#the vibrancy is so nice here

[vashstash]

Due to popular demand, a halo man from the L’Oreal Paris poster

[perlelune]

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | iv.

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: NON-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

A smile blooms on your lips as you watch Tilly play hopscotch with her friend near the street. Snow’s melted enough this morning to be able to draw chalk patterns on the cobblestones. The young girl woke up excited to enjoy the day. And while you’re nowhere as thrilled, seeing the joy and life return to her gaze is more than enough for you. 

The little girls’ buoyant laughs fill the street and you let yourself bask in the moment. It’s rare that you get time to yourself lately.  Your shifts at the factory take up most of your time. And you’ve been spreading yourself thin, hoping to keep concerns at bay by remaining busy. White wisps surround you as you blow a long breath. You readjust your scarf and rub your gloved hands. Cold air seeps through the tiny holes in your gloves. You’ll need to stay after hours on your next shift to mend them. Perhaps you could even purloin enough throwaway remnants of wool to make Tilly a new pair. She’ll soon outgrow hers.

Besides, her health might have improved for now, but you never stop worrying about her catching another cold, one that might be deadlier than the last.

Lost in contemplation, you draw a sharp breath when an object drops from the sky onto your lap. Your eyes widen as you lower them. A pair of knitted gloves rests in your lap. They’re clearly brand new and the wool quality is unlike anything you’ve ever laid eyes on. You can tell from the thickness and vibrancy of the twining threads. You’re tempted to give it a brush with your fingertips, revel in the warmth oozing from the fabric. But you refrain.

“I don’t want that,” you snap, whipping your head up.

A towering, lanky frame clad in the peacekeeper’s signature blue uniform fills your sight. 

You toss the gloves at him and he catches them with a deep sigh. He sits near you on the steps. The hairs on the back of your neck bristle with his proximity, his broad shoulder grazing yours as he turns to study you.

You shiver as his gaze runs along your frame. You don’t look at him. You don’t want to. You’ve done your best to forget about him these last few weeks, even if his ever-lurking presence is hard to ignore. Whatever you do, wherever you are, he’s never hovering too far away.

He seizes your hands, forcefully slipping the gloves on your frostbitten fingers.

“Come on, you’re freezing,” he says. Your lips tighten as you meekly comply. Arguing with the peacekeeper has never worked in your favor. So why even try? You let him put the gloves on you, cursing the comfort you feel when the warm fabric hugs your fingers. An absent thought drifts in your head as you admire the wool. You never owned anything this nice. The quality evokes the clothes that usually head straight to the Capitol.

All the nice things go to them first while District dwellers beg for scraps.

Coriolanus leans back, his large hands spreading over his knees. His stance is far too relaxed for your taste and you shrink further on your side of the narrow stairs. 

As his icy blue orbs settle on your cousin and her friend, you tense.

“She seems to be doing well. I’m assuming the medicine helped,” he notes, smugness oozing from his words. His attention scorches your skin as you pointedly evade his stare. You loathe the satisfaction he draws from this. More leverage to use against you. More opportunities to make you feel small, helpless.

“What are you doing here?” you curtly ask.

His small chuckle makes your stomach coil.

“Is this any way to greet a friend?” His tone becomes light, playful. “Especially one that comes bearing gifts?” 

Your brows knit. “Friends…”

Hot air tickles your earshell as he bends over you, whispering, “The closest of friends.”

Your heart skips a beat.

He grabs your chin, angling your face towards his. A shuddered breath leaves your lips as stark blue eyes drink you in. “Really birdie, not even a smile? Come now.”

You nudge a tremulous smile onto your lips. 

His thumb grazes your trembling bottom lip as his mouth twists skyward. “Better,’ he praises quietly.

A winning glint sways in his eyes and your stomach lurches. 

“Hi!”

Tilly’s cheerful voice shatters the moment. Coriolanus releases you and relief billows inside your chest. 

He beams at the young girl, replying in a similar tone, “Hi.”

Your young cousin bounces on her feet, excitement rounding her gaze as she admires  the peacekeeper. Your frown deepens at the exchange.

“I’m Tilly,” she announces solemnly, offering her hand to shake.

Coriolanus laughs as he takes it, mirth lighting up his handsome face.

“I know. I know all about you.” A mix of shock and awe decorates the young girl’s features with that information, as if the peacekeeper knowing anything about her was the most extraordinary thing in the world. “I’m a friend of your cousin. My name’s Coriolanus.”

“Coriolanus,” she repeats, as if mesmerized by the sound of his name alone.

“Here. I have something for you,” he says. 

He reaches inside the pocket of his uniform and pulls out a bag. Your cousin jumps, her eyes sparkling with joy when he hands it to her.

“Candy!” she exclaims. 

Your face pinches at the sight of the colorful sweets in the bag. These aren’t easy to acquire. 

“Tilly…”

“What?”

The young girl’s expression is dejected as she looks at you, almost like she can sense your disapproval and is preparing to return the gift. Your shoulder sag. You don’t have it in you to refuse her this small sliver of delight. 

You shake your head and smile.

“Nothing.” You hunker in front of her. “We should go back inside.”

“But I want to play…” she pouts.

“You have chores. And Coriolanus…” Your eyes lift to him. Amusement hasn’t left his expression. “is very busy.”

He doesn’t say anything as you shove your cousin inside the house. He lingers by the door and you fidget beneath his heavy stare.

“I’m guessing you have…somewhere to be.”

His gaze drags over you as a small smile dances on his lips.

“Yes, I hear I’m very busy,” he teases. Shock fills you when he leans to brush his mouth against your cool cheek. “See you soon, birdie,” he mumbles, his deep voice making your stomach flutter.

You’re relieved when he finally leaves. You chase away the peculiar sensation his closeness sparked as you shut the door.

You don’t get time to collect yourself,  your little cousin immediately asking, “Is he your boyfriend?”

The pitch of your voice goes high with shock. 

“What? Are you crazy?”

Tilly frowns. “But I saw him kissing you.”

Heat nestles in your cheeks. Maybe from an outsider’s perspective, Coriolanus’ closeness could be misinterpreted, the peacekeeper perpetually crowding your space despite your reluctance. Still, you can’t believe it’s what the little girl thinks from looking at the two of you. 

It couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Every fiber of your being burns with hatred for him.

“No, we weren’t. It wasn’t…” you sputter, your embarrassment cresting as the excitement in your cousin’s eyes doesn’t dwindle. “He wasn’t kissing me. We were just talking.”

“About girlfriend and boyfriend stuff,” she insists. 

You sigh. You approach her and grip her shoulders. 

“Tilly, I need you to promise me something.”

She blinks up at you. “Yes?”

You crouch before her so you’re at eye level. 

“You need to stay away from peacekeepers.”

She purses her mouth, glancing down at the bag of candy.

“Yes, but Coriolanus…he was nice to me.”

Your stomach sinks.

“Well, Coriolanus isn’t like the others.”

She nods in understanding. You’re glad she doesn’t ask any further questions. You wouldn’t know how to begin to explain your relationship with him.

Not in any way that makes sense at least.

For a fortnight, you don’t see much of him. You bask in the tranquility of your usual routine, going back and forth, from home to work, and preparing to celebrate the end of the year with your cousin. It won’t be lavish, of course, but you’re hoping to save up enough from your wages to get Tilly a teddy and perhaps even a toy this year.

While most of your family has passed away, you want to cherish the things you still have. Perhaps you can even create new memories for your cousin, happier memories. She has been bedridden for months now and it’ll be the first holiday she’ll get to truly enjoy as a healthy, normal child. 

He appears again as you’re working your usual shift, casually switching places with another guard. While you pointedly avoid looking in his direction, you feel the weight of his unwavering eyes, watching you as always.

Still, you diligently weave the silk on your loom. Your attention cannot stray. One mistake and the fabric will be ruined. 

“Your shadow’s there,” Yara notes from her station right next to yours.

Your eyes flick upward briefly as you nod.

“Yeah.”

Silence hangs in the air a while before your friend speaks again.

“It doesn’t seem to bother you that much.”

You shrug. “I’m getting used to it.”

Her eyes land on the gloves peeking from the pocket of your long skirt.

“By the way, I meant to ask…Is that from him?”

You hesitate a little before begrudgingly admitting, “Yes.”

She moves her head in acknowledgement. 

“I see, gifts now.”

Stepping on the treadle to slow down the motion of your loom, you snap your head to Yara.

There was something in her tone just then, an implication you didn’t like.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She shakes her head and scoffs, “It’s just interesting, is all.”

“My hands were cold,” you defend.

“You could have thrown them away. I made my own. It’s what we do every year. Make our own.” Her gaze locks with yours. Licking her lips, she seems to mull over something before she asks,  “Is there something going on between you two? I mean other than what I already know.”

Your face grows hot.

“There is nothing.”

She studies you for a few minutes before turning her focus back to her loom.

“Right,” she says.

Your annoyance mounting, you give the treadle a vigorous push and start weaving faster.

You let your friend’s prickly comments fade somewhere in the back of your mind. You have no desire to explore this dangerous line of thought any further. 

There is indeed nothing going on between you and the peacekeeper. You keep repeating it to yourself as your fingers assemble the threads as if your life depended on it. 

It helps you ignore the way your blood races in your veins.

Relief fills you when your shift ends. Tension built in your body and firmly remained since Yara began questioning you. You can still feel it in the stiffness in your limbs, the heaviness in your chest. You make haste as you dart across the hallways, eager to return home.

Your escape is halted by a pair of strong arms pulling you in a dark corner of the factory. 

You look up at him through wide eyes. That teasing smile you’ve grown all too familiar with decorates his lips.

“Why the rush, sweet bird?”

“Coriolanus…” You step back from him. “Can’t you just leave me be, just once?”

He approaches you, forcing you to shrink against the wall. He cages you, his hands on each side of you as he drinks you in. You dip your head, overwhelmed with the scent of roses washing over you. 

“I can’t actually.” Warmth swirls in your belly as his tone lowers. “Look at me.” He puts two fingers below your chin to angle it upward. His eyes narrow. “You’re upset.”

“Just had a long day,” you elude with a shrug. 

He scrutinizes you. Your mouth quakes, his silence unnerving you. 

After some time, he finally announces, “I’m getting discharged soon.”

“Oh, where?”

“I’m getting sent back to the Capitol.”

You gape at him. That’s not what you expected to hear. Though you surmise it makes sense, with him being around less. A strange mix of feelings surges inside your chest. But mostly, relief, freedom. You’ll be able to breathe properly again, without the uneasy attention of the peacekeeper tailing you everywhere you go. 

Though you try not to let your emotions show. You give a tilted smile.

“Isn’t that a good thing? You get to go home, return to your life.”

His knuckles sweep over the apple of your cheek. 

“Well…I’ll miss some things about District 8.”

You clear your throat. “I should get back home.”

“Meet me tonight,” he says bluntly. 

“What for?”

His eyes darken, running over your trembling frame. His thumb skims over your bottom lip.

“I’m leaving. We should celebrate, just the two of us.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. You truly hoped to avoid…colliding with the peacekeeper again, in any way, but you suppose it was inevitable. One way or another, he’d have asked for more of you, simply because he could. Your fate is in his hands after all. He could easily make your life here hell just by whispering in the right ears.

Still, you can’t help voicing a feeble protest.

“Is that necessary?”

His eyes flare with danger. Your breath snags as he grips your jaw, his fingers digging painfully into your cheeks. Your pulse thrums beneath his palm.

“I don’t want to be mean to you right now, so don’t make me.” Though his tone is soft, his expression is harsh and inflexible. “Just do as I say.”

You give a shaky nod.

“S-See you tonight.”

He releases your face and you take a deep breath. His crooked smile is wide and victorious as he hops away from you.

“I look forward to it, sweet bird.”

You put a hand on your chest as he disappears, willing your thundering heart to slow down. You find comfort in a single thought. At least, after tonight, you will finally be rid of the peacekeeper.

[tonicandjins]

right where you left me

characters: wonwoo & reader word count: 8.9k genre: exes to lovers summary: in which wonwoo leaves and takes your heart with him. three years later, you're in another city, but tragically, right where he left you. warnings: alcohol consumption, detailed smut.

please help me see seventeen on december!

***

Seoul’s stale and dusty air reminds you exactly why you don’t like visiting the capital city often despite its vibrance and the colors built upon its land. As someone who likes to have their own space once in a while, the city is not for you, with its busy streets and lights that never seem to dim even a little. Seoul, at least for you, is a place to visit when you’re looking for some excitement, some diversity, some stories to tell your workmates—but definitely not a place to reside in full time. 

But here you are, two days after moving, trying to get used to its noise and its beauty at the same time. If it hadn’t been for your job requiring you to move around multiple times a year, you wouldn’t be here. Albeit grateful, part of you wishes it could have been some other place closer to where you were raised. 

Growing up in Changwon, your slightly tanned skin had been used to the coastal area’s cool, salty air. Also, it’s 40 minutes away from Busan—where your best friend Jihoon lives (which means to reach your best friend is a 40-minute drive). And this is also one of the reasons why you didn’t want to move to Seoul unless Jihoon tags along with you (which he, unfortunately, did not because he “can’t just pack up his entire life so that you’re not lonely in Seoul”). 

“Is it that bad?” Jihoon’s voice echoes from the speaker of your phone as you put away your groceries. 

“Yes,” you huff, remembering how someone bumped into you as soon as you stepped out of the subway, making you drop one of your grocery bags. The person did not even bother to look back. “Jihoon, I want to go home.”

“How old are you again?” your best friend teases. Even from miles away, you could make up his face as he speaks with you. “You’ll be fine. Remember that your boss had said it’s a temporary relocation. Once you’re done with whatever you have to complete in Seoul, then you can come back home.”

“I doubt,” you answer as you finish organizing the last few containers. “Launching this project in Changwon took them 2 years to fully establish. It’s Seoul, I know many things are more accessible here; for sure we’ll have more chances of finding competent potentials here to kickoff the project with me. But still, I don’t think I can do this in six months; one year at the least, maybe, if I work hard enough.”

Jihoon hums, agreeing, then proceeds to ask when the rest of your team would arrive. You briefly explain their itinerary and tell him that you’re also in collaboration with HR to ensure that enough manpower will be available by next week. You ask about the project that Jihoon is also working on; he tells you he will most likely visit Seoul, too, and it excites you until he reminds you of what you’ve been trying to avoid since you arrived. 

“Wonwoo lives in Seoul. At least you have someone you know,” he says, voice reluctant. “I mean, that is if you need help settling. I know you don’t have a lot of relatives up there, but you know, just in case you need someone to remind you of home.”

You laugh at the last statement. Jihoon sighs, knowing how stupid he sounded just now. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “It’s not like I stopped being in contact with him after, you know, and it would be nice.”

“What would be nice?”

“You know, to catch up and all,” he answers, yawning. You look at the time, nine in the morning, Jihoon probably hasn’t had a wink of sleep. 

You stay silent, sitting on the stool from your kitchen island, looking at your phone as if you’re waiting for him to say something more. 

“It would be nice,” he repeats. “You were friends for a long time before you dated. It would be nice to have someone in the lonely city.”

You hum, still not willing to say anything. Jihoon knows that you never like talking about this, about Wonwoo. 

“I mean, it has been how long?” Three years. “Two? Three years now, right? I’m sure Wonwoo’s moved on. I’m sure you have, too. Right?”

Being friends all throughout high school, dating as soon as you go into college, Wonwoo leaving as soon as the three of you graduated, you and him not being able to handle the distance—of course. Of course. You should have been able to move on at this point. Three years should be long enough for someone to move on. Three years should have allowed you to see someone else, to get rid of your feelings from the starry-eyed boy whose dreams are as vivid as yours. 

Jihoon calls your name. “You there?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m here.”

You’re here, in Seoul, miles away from Changwon, but here also means right where Wonwoo left you. 

***

Kwon Soonyoung is a long-distance friend of Jihoon, which by default makes you a friend of his, too. He and Jihoon used to live next to each other when the latter temporarily moved to Seoul to be trained for his current job. Soonyoung is vibrant and loud like the city, but kind and warm like home. He helps you familiarize yourself with the city and gives you a list of places to visit nearby where your live and work. He shows you which subway or bus stop to go to certain places and helps you settle in further. 

A month into living in Seoul, you’re finally getting used to it. The rush still bothers you sometimes, but it’s better now, thanks to Soonyoung. 

“Do you like this place?” he asks, mouth full as he chews on the grilled beef you had just served for him. 

You nod, taking a piece of meat into your mouth. 

“I’m glad,” he says. “This is me and my best friend’s favorite place. We come here every weekend to drink. He doesn’t really drink, but he eats a lot and takes me home to make sure I don’t die. Jihoon knows him, too, apparently. Small world, if you ask me. Wonwoo used to go to the same college as Jihoon.”

You almost choke. Soonyoung quickly hands you a glass of water and asks if you’re okay. 

Small world, my ass. The universe should might as well just punch you in the gut. 

“Wonwoo,” you breathe out. “Jeon Wonwoo.”

“Yes,” Soonyoung exclaims. “You know him, too? That’s—wait, that actually makes sense. You and Jihoon have been best friends since birth. Of course, you know Wonwoo.”

“Soonyoung,” you say, catching your breath after chugging the glass of water. “We have been hanging out for two, three weeks now. Why haven’t you ever mentioned Jeon Wonwoo?”

What difference would have it done? You would have avoided Soonyoung at all costs, wouldn’t have bothered to befriend this bright, kind man across you. Then, that would minimize the chances of ever seeing Jeon Wonwoo in Seoul until you have to go back home. 

Soonyoung shrugs. “He’s been busy. But he should be free next weekend, so we can meet up here then—“

“No,” you cut him off and visibly, you could see how Soonyoung’s mouth form into a pout. “No, Soonyoung. Sorry.”

“Why?” He asks. “Wonwoo is not that bad. He’s a little cold, but he’s not that bad. You should know if you had known him back in Changwon. I mean, Jihoon is the coldest person in the universe, so Wonwoo is not half bad.”

“It’s not like that, Soonyoung,” you sigh, picking up a piece of radish and shoving it in your mouth. 

The man across you is puzzled for a minute, chewing on another piece of meat with his eyebrows furrowed. 

Soonyoung suddenly gasps when it dawns to him. “Oh my God.”

“Shut up.” He knows. 

“You’re the ex,” he exclaims. “Holy shit!”

“Shut up, Soonyoung.”

“You are!” He repeats. “You’re the ex that got him so fucked up on his first year here in Seoul!”

“That’s rude,” you remark. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Oh, I am so going to call Jihoon later. This should be fun.”

***

What are the odds of meeting Jeon Wonwoo for the first time in three years?

More than half month ago, back in Changwon, chances were nearly zero. Wonwoo completely moved to Seoul and never bothered to return since he left. His father and brother had already moved to Seoul, too; Wonwoo never really had a reason to go back. 

Weeks ago, chances were little to likely. You are in Seoul. It is a big city, but bumping into him wasn’t completely impossible. 

Two weeks ago, chances were most likely. After learning that Soonyoung had been friends with him for three years, it’s definitely a possibility to see him one of these days. 

But here, in a small cafe at the corner of the street leading the way to your workplace, you would think that it’s less likely. There are thousands of cafes across Seoul, a wide variety of themes scattered along the busy streets, and it’s not very likely for you to meet Jeon Wonwoo in this place. 

Yet here he is. Right in front of you. Sitting right across you as if it’s the easiest thing to do. 

“So, uhh,” he starts, clearing his throat and setting his clasped hands on top of the table between you. “Seoul. How is it?”

You shrug, looking anywhere but him. “It’s alright. Too noisy—“

“I figured,” he interrupts but apologizes right away. “I mean. It’s different. From home. So, I figured it would be too noisy for you.”

Jeon Wonwoo is different, and it’s not like you expected him to remain the same after all these years, because you, too, are an entirely different person now. His hair is fixed, cut clean and pushed back from his forehead so that it doesn’t cover his eyes. Eyeglasses are nowhere to be found; you reckon he’s wearing transparent contacts to help with his sight. He’s wearing a suit and a tie, something you seldom saw back in Changwon, and he’s more confident now. He doesn’t look away when he talks. He doesn’t look like the Wonwoo you had known. 

The Wonwoo you had known never would have approached you as soon as you stepped in the cafe. The Wonwoo you had known would have pretended he never saw you and ran away. The Wonwoo you had known would have shot a text to Jihoon to let him know that he saw you, so that you would initiate a conversation with him next time because you knew that he was too shy to say hi first.

In the end, you don’t really know a Jeon Wonwoo at present. He doesn’t know you at the same time. 

“Jihoon said the same thing,” he continues, filling the awkward air with words you could barely absorb because you’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that he really is sitting right across you. “When he moved here for a while. I also thought of the same thing during my first few months here.”

You hum. The barista calls both your names just in time before another wave of awkward silence could take over you. 

Wonwoo abruptly stands and tells you he’ll take both your orders. You let him. Your legs probably do no have enough strength to stand on its own at this time. 

He comes back with both your orders combined in one tray. You’re glad you didn’t get anything to eat, otherwise you might have to vomit your insides out with how much your stomach is shaking. 

“You sure you don’t want to eat anything?” He asks as he sets your drink in front of you. “The strawberry shortcake here is nice. Even the tiramisu is to die for.”

You shake your head. “I should get going,” you answer instead. “I just dropped by for some coffee. I need to go back to work.”

Wonwoo nods as he sips into his drink. “You work right down the street, right? I texted Jihoon while ordering, I hope you don’t mind. I asked him where you worked. I should have just asked you.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “But I should really go.”

Wonwoo pulls out his phone and slides it in front of you. The screen tells you he’s asking for your number. 

“Please allow me to take you out for lunch,” he asks. “Let’s catch up.”

If your heart was galloping two minutes ago, at this point it’s in a fucking drag race. It’s not a good feeling and you do not trust yourself enough for things like this. 

“Wonwoo,” you sigh. “I don’t think we should.”

“Why not?” He asks. “It’ll be alright. Besides, I’ve been meaning to ask Jihoon for your number anyway, ever since he told me you had moved here. I can help you fi—“

“Wonwoo, please,” you reply. Wonwoo stops. And this is the only time you actually look at his eyes. 

His eyes soften when he notices the way your face winces in distress. Worry clouds the windows to his soul, and this lets you know that this Wonwoo may not entirely different from the Wonwoo you had known. 

“Please,” you say again. “I’m not even sure why I agreed to sit across you, let alone give you my number and let you in again.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“You left, remember?” you reply. Wonwoo doesn’t answer. “You left. I could have waited for you, or uprooted my entire life so I could follow you here if you had a little more patience. A little more understanding.”

You have no idea where this burst of emotions are suddenly coming from, but it’s here now and you are not going to contain it. 

“I don’t think I can be friends with you again, Wonwoo,” you continue. “It’s—it’s not right. It’s not good. For me. It’s not good for me, and I don’t think I am ready to reconnect with you in any form. I’m sorry, Wonwoo.”

“No,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

You nod and take your cup of coffee, bowing your head a little. “I’ll see you around.”

Wonwoo watches you leave.

***

You don’t drink a lot, and it reminds you why you, Jihoon, and Wonwoo were closer to one another compared to the rest of your friendship group back in college. The three of you were, by default, the ones responsible to take everyone home safely.

It was a routine back in college. So long as nobody has to attend some kind of practice on the weekend (swimming, football, debate club, theater – name it), everyone from your group would meet up at the same place at seven every Friday night. You, Wonwoo, and Jihoon knew everyone’s dormitories and were always in a conquest to ensure everyone would have hangover soup and aspirin ready by the time they wake up in the morning.

The flashes of memories make you smile as you down on another shot of alcohol, and man, do you wish Jihoon could keep you company. Both of you would have been so shitfaced by the third shot, careless and honest strings of words thrown at each other. As soon as alcohol has reached your system, you and him become emotional turmoils. You and him, despite being fully grown adults, are still terrible drinkers.

And you wonder if Wonwoo had learned how to handle his alcohol tolerance better.

The drink is hot when it slides down your throat, but you like it better than the feeling in your chest.

Jeon Wonwoo is the greatest love of your life.

It had always felt like he was a gift from the sky, like a star who fell comfortably on your hands, sharing his light and warmth whenever he was close. The star himself winked his vibrance amidst the void surrounding you – just in time when you were going through growing pains.

High school wasn’t the best time of your life, unlike any other person you may ask. It was when you were still trying to get to know yourself better while juggling school and family matters. Jeon Wonwoo had sat at the back of the class, as though he’s the furthest star from the sky, but his light extended far enough for you to see him.

Wonwoo has always been handsome, even when he had gained some weight on his cheeks in sophomore year and when he decided to get a K-Idol type of haircut that didn’t quite suit him. He was quiet and timid, wouldn’t talk to you unless you approach him first, but was subtly funny when he starts becoming comfortable. Wonwoo and Jihoon’s similarities made them friends, and you had to start competing against Wonwoo for the title of Jihoon’s best friend as soon as you noticed how much Jihoon adores the boy.

The three of you were inseparable. But it was always different with Wonwoo.

Jihoon wrote you a letter when your 15-year old dog passed away, and it was the most beautiful string of words you had read your entire life. Wonwoo couldn’t express himself well, but he slept over for two weeks and held your hand every day during that difficult time of your life.

Which is why the lines were never blurred with Jihoon, but with Wonwoo, it was always grey.

Jeon Wonwoo kissed you under the stars on the night of your graduation day – hands shaking, lips soft, eyes twinkling – and told you he had decided to go to the same college as you and Jihoon.

Wonwoo had just gotten a car from his father on the first day of college, and he made it a point to drive you to and from the state university. He had asked you to be his girlfriend before you got off from his car on the first day of freshmen year.

When you, him, and Jihoon had found part-time jobs to get you through dorm rent and daily needs, it had saved countless of core memories in your head. Those were difficult times, but it never felt that way when you had those two boys by your side.

Eventually, you and Wonwoo moved in together to save some money for rent. You and him fell into daily routines and in love with each other even more. Wonwoo became family, eventually, and you to his, and for a period of time, all was well. Better than well, most of the time.

That is until Wonwoo had to leave right after graduation and you couldn’t because you had so many things going for you in Changwon. There were opportunities for you and him, but in different places, and it would have been unfortunate if either of you turned these chance. Wonwoo had asked if you wouldn’t consider moving with him. Seoul is a big city, after all, there were jobs available for you. But as much as Wonwoo was a dreamer, you were, too. You had dreams of your own, and those dreams aren’t in Seoul.

Hence, Wonwoo had left and you had stayed. You were ready to let him go if it means he would fly and be successful. There were hushed promises the last time you made love in your shared apartment, words of comfort that things would be fine, that you and him will eventually find your way back to each other once you figure things out. No concrete plan, but promises nonetheless.

Promises that were, eventually, thrown into oblivion.

Inevitably, you and him became occupied at work – too much that sometimes both of you forget to call. On the weekends, during Wonwoo’s first few months in Seoul, you would take a train to visit him and spend your days off from work together. For a while, it worked. The routine of not talking at all from Mondays to Fridays and catching up on the weekends with you taking a train to Seoul worked. That is until you noticed Wonwoo never bothered to come see you at home.

To your surprise, his father and younger brother had moved to Seoul when he found a place for them to stay nearby. Bohyuk, his brother, was getting ready for college, and Wonwoo decided it would be best for him to study in the city and have his father move, too.

“Not right now,” Wonwoo had answered as soon as he picked up the call. But you weren’t having it.

“Don’t hang up,” you had warned while knowing well that he was in the middle of work. “Bohyuk dropped by to say goodbye. You never bothered to tell me you’ve decided to have them move to Seoul.”

“Y/N,” Wonwoo warned in the same tone. “I’m at work. Let’s talk about this when you come here on the weekend.”

“I am not going there on the weekend, Wonwoo,” you firmly replied. “Why don’t you ever come home?”

Wonwoo had stayed silent on the other line.

“You like Seoul that much, huh?” You taunted. Wonwoo huffed on the other line and you knew him well enough to understand that he’s just as angry as you. “You’ve never bothered to come home. I’ve always travelled miles and miles for you, spending my days off on trains and not being able to sleep well at night because it’s not my bed. Every fucking weekend since you moved to the city.”

“What are you trying to say?” Wonwoo asked.

You sighed, palm on your forehead as you tried to think about where you and him went wrong. “Wonwoo, why do you never come home?”

Wonwoo never held back, didn’t take a second to even think about his answer. “I don’t have a reason to visit Changwon. It’s not home for me.”

That was the last straw for you.

It may be the vodka that’s keeping you from remembering, but you’ve forgotten what you had said after that. All you remember is how you were fuming mad and had taken an empty box to gather all of Wonwoo’s things and to send it to his address in Seoul. It was only then that you had realized Wonwoo had really left. He had taken all of his belongings when he left to Seoul, and you realized he didn’t bother leaving any clothes or any pair of shoes when he took the flight to Incheon to reach Seoul. It was only then that you had realized Wonwoo never inteded to go back. He took all of what’s his and had left you.

And it may be, again, the vodka that’s talking but you understand now why you dislike Seoul so much.

It’s because you never understood why Wonwoo had easily left you for a city so bright and so loud, and you were jealous of that. You were envious of a city and you wonder why Changwon was never enough for him to even visit. Why you were never enough for him to call you home.

Wonwoo, indeed, was a star that fell out of the sky.

The universe never told you that you had to return him back to the sky eventually. It was the most painful thing you had to do, but you did it, anyway.

***

It turns out that saying that you don’t want to reconnect with Wonwoo is better said than done.

Soonyoung is determined to see you and Wonwoo in the same room, same space, same air – that’s why you are here, again, in the same barbecue place that Soonyoung took you weeks ago.

It’s Saturday, and Soonyoung picked you up from your apartment to have some grilled meat, yours and his favorite. And you should have known, truly, with the smug look on his face and overly huge grin on his mouth, that Wonwoo had been waiting for you and Soonyoung at the said place.

Wonwoo and Soonyoung talk animatedly about work and how the week went by so slow with the load of work they had to finish. The two apparently met at work and have been friends since then.

You stay silent for the most part, reason truly being to tired from work. You tell them you had been working ten to eleven hours a day since Monday because of the preparation for the program’s launch. Soonyoung points out that all you’ve been eating for the entire week are noodles and soda.

“That’s not healthy,” Wonwoo comments.

“I know,” you sigh. “But I don’t really have that much time to make something for breakfast. And I would be too tired in the evening to even wait for food delivery so I just settle on what I have.”

The conversation falls into place, awkwardness from the first few minutes gone, thanks to a tipsy Soonyoung clearing the air for everyone. And just like this, you and Wonwoo fell into another routine, as if those years of nothingness between you and him never existed.

***

Jihoon is surprised when he sees you and Wonwoo pick him up from the airport.

You had filled him in, of course, with the situation and how much you hate it, but still, your best friend couldn’t hide how happy (maybe?) he was to see you and Wonwoo together (not really). You decided to let Jihoon stay in your apartment for the entire two weeks that he needed to be here for business. One thing common about you and him, he could never sleep well on a hotel’s bed.

Wonwoo tags along, of course, and it’s the first time he sees where you live. You see him briefly stare at the pictures you had displayed in your small living room (many, many photographs of you and Jihoon, your family, some friends, and your pets who were left at home). He takes a second to study each, and you wonder if he’d been expecting to see his face on the photographs.

“Thanks, Wonwoo, for driving us here,” Jihoon says. “Y/N, I told you it would be more convenient if you get a driver’s license and buy a car. Especially here in Seoul. How are you commuting every damn day?”

You shrug as you start to unpack Jihoon’s carry on. “The company pays for my transportation. Also, driving, me? Can you really picture that?”

Both Wonwoo and Jihoon laugh.

“Some things never change,” Wonwoo mumbles.

You never learned how to drive because Wonwoo always drove you to places when you were younger. You were too uncoordinated to learn it on your own, and now you feel like you’re too old to take driving courses.

Wonwoo helps Jihoon settle in on the spare bedroom you had prepared for him. You can’t help but kiss Jihoon on the cheek when you the dried fish he had packed just for you.

“There is dried fish from the supermarket nearby,” Wonwoo comments as he watches you place the delicacies on the cupboard. “They’re good, too.”

You shake your head, still smiling, “Nothing will ever taste like home.”

Jihoon agrees from his bedroom.

The three of you decide to have dinner across the apartment complex. Soonyoung joins you within half an hour, which is why as soon as you finish your meal, alcohol is served on the table.

“You’re a fucking alcoholic,” you joke. Soonyoung pouts and says it’s the best time to drink because Jihoon is here. This is, as he says, a rare occurrence in the universe.

Eventually, Soonyoung was able to pursuade the three of you to drink, but he was already too tipsy himself to realize that you and Wonwoo had stopped taking shots on your second ones. Jihoon, however, seems to be having fun drinking with Soonyoung.

When the clock hits 12, Soonyoung’s roommate arrives to pick him up. The man introduces himself as Jun.

Jun is handsome, and he shakes his head when you offer him a drink. Soonyoung begins to tease you and tells everyone that he’s never seen you so red before. You tell them it’s the alcohol, but even Jihoon wasn’t buying it. Flirting wasn’t really your forte, and maybe it was those two shots of soju that helped you speak confidently with Jun the entire 20 minutes he sat on your table.

“Sorry,” you say as you and Jun haul Soonyoung to the car.

“It’s fine,” the man answers and settles his friend on the back seat. “I wonder why Soonyoung never introduced you.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” you reply. “I’ll see you around. Thanks for picking him up.”

Jun nods, smiling, and takes a device from his back pocket. “Here,” he says softly. “Put your number.”

Your breath is caught when you realize what’s going on, and unconsciously, for a reason unknown to you, you look back at the restaurant where Wonwoo is seated right the wall made in glass.

He is looking right back at you as this is happening.

Jun is quick-witted. He realizes what’s going on and chuckles.

“Oh,” he mutters, about to pull his phone back but you stop him, pulling your eyes away from Wonwoo.

Jun is surprised when you punch your number in and give yourself a missed call.

“Is it okay?” He asks.

“Nothing’s going on between me and Wonwoo,” you answer confidently.

Jun laughs, and you blush. “I’ll just say I believe you, okay? Now, give me a hug so he can throw more daggers at me. He’s been slaughtering me with his eyes since you and I started talking back there.”

You’re taken aback when Jun suddenly pulls you in, your face buried in his fruity scent and you laugh when he makes an effort to make it look real. He bids goodbye and you watch his car leave before returning to Wonwoo and a very sleepy Jihoon.

“Took you a while,” Wonwoo mumbles and helps Jihoon to stand. “Saying goodbye really takes that long?”

You shrug and walk to the other side of Jihoon, helping him walk as well. “He’s nice.”

“Nice enough to give your number immediately?” he mutters, making you chuckle at the new behavior.

“Yes, of course,” you answer sarcastically. “Soonyoung has mentioned him before. I’ve been looking forward to meeting him.”

The three of you walk (Jihoon, very drunkenly) across the street. Wonwoo punches the button to your apartment’s floor and you’re impressed at how easily he remembered it despite being here the first time.

Wonwoo complains about how buff Jihoon had gotten and how heavy he is when he comes back to the living room after closing the door behind your best friend’s room. He catches you making tea, and you don’t even remember grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Tea?” You offer. Wonwoo hums and takes one mug from the counter. He comfortably takes a seat on the couch, taking a look around while waiting for the tea to cool a little. You don’t hesitate to take a seat beside him.

“Nice place,” he comments.

“Isn’t that compliment a little too late?” you joke, blowing air to your tea and deciding to set it down the table beside Wonwoo’s because it’s still too hot.

“We were busy unpacking Jihoon’s things,” he answers. “I didn’t get a good look.”

“Thanks,” you say anyway. “Nothing like home but, you know, it’s nice.”

Wonwoo chuckles. “You like comparing everything to what it is at home. If you keep doing that, you’re never going to truly like Seoul. Changwon and Seoul are two different places.”

“I have no plans of liking Seoul,” you answer. “I’m here for work. Once I’m done, I’m going back home.”

Wonwoo nods. He looks at you and finally, you look back at him. Wonwoo had his hair down today, unlike all the other days you’ve seen him. He’s wearing his glasses and it reminds you a lot of what he used to look like when you were in college. He’s wearing a plain white shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. And you would be lying if you say you’re not attracted to him right now.

He has always been handsome, and though you like when he wears suit and tie, nothing will ever compare to how attractive he looks right now, to how much he looks like the Wonwoo you had known right now.

Wonwoo licks his lips when your eyes meet his, and the sparks light up like a switch, then seconds later he’s kissing you.

Wonwoo’s lips are as soft as you could remember despite how roughly he’s holding you as he kisses the air out of your lungs. His hands are on your jaw, keeping your face still and he dives in, his tongue licking your lips and asking you to open up. You cave in so, so, so easily when his hands travel to your arms and to your legs and when he pulls you so that you’re sitting on top of him.

Wonwoo licks and bites and sucks your lips and your tongue, and the heat between your legs makes you moan. The sound you make invites Wonwoo to touch the skin in your hips, your shirt lifted a little, and suddenly he’s pulling the material over your head.

He is hard when you move closer and sit right on top of his crotch, and he makes the same sinful sound when you grind yourself on his boner. The strap of your bra begins to fall from your arms and this encourages Wonwoo’s lips to leave yours and mark up your shoulders and chest. You throw your head back when Wonwoo pulls one of cups of your bra down and starts kissing your breasts. He nips and sucks where you want it the most and uses his other hand to massage the other.

“Wonwoo,” you moan. “Room.”

Wonwoo doesn’t need a second. He uses his strength to stand and carry you while your legs are wrapped around his waist, teas forgotten and cold. He locks your room, gently places you on bed and pulls his shirt off his body before climbing on top of you again.

“Can I take these off?” He asks. You don’t know which piece of clothing he’s asking but you nod anyway.

Wonwoo unclasps the last piece of clothing that’s covering your chest and continuest to dive in, mouth finding your nipple, sucking, nipping, biting, kissing. And it’s hot and your heart somersaults with how familiar this feels. With how much Wonwoo remembers when it comes to your body. You feel your wetness pool even more between your legs when you realize Wonwoo has been kissing you on the right places, sucking when you need it the most, biting where you want it the most 

“Wonwoo,” you moan when he finishes sucking both your breasts and moves down to kiss your stomach. “Please.”

“Please what, sweetheart?” He asks. You involuntarily moan at the nickname and how low and attractive his voice sounds, and how much you remember that he likes words being used when fucking. “Tell me what you want.”

“I need you,” you answer. Wonwoo chuckles, kissing your stomach.

“You need me now?” he taunts. “You seem to like Jun.”

You shake your head, reaching so you could pull him back to your lips. You kiss Wonwoo, palms touching his neck and shoulders. (Wonwoo had started working out, you realize.)

“I’ve only ever liked you,” you say in between kissing him. “Please. I need you.”

“Don’t be in love with someone else,” Wonwoo whispers and you nod. He kisses you one more time before going back down in between your legs.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he commands. “What do you want me to do?”

“Your hands and mouth,” you answer. Wonwoo shakes his head. You sigh, closing your eyes and know exactly what he wants to hear. “Please eat me out, Wonwoo. Please use your tongue and your fingers.”

Wonwoo doesn’t hesitate. “Can I take these off?” You nod. He pulls your pants alongside your panties down.

You bite your lip when Wonwoo breathes out as soon as he sees you on full display. Unconsciously, you start to cover your breasts and close your thighs, but Wonwoo stops you and tells you he wants to see you first. Wonwoo takes his time looking at you, admiring your skin and the wetness between your legs.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,” he whispers and dives in.

Wonwoo knows how to use his tongue well. There were a lot of things you’ve already forgotten about your dynamics, but if you could recall one thing perfectly, it’s how amazing he treated you in bed. He takes his time making small, soft licks on your folds, tongue glazing on your clit, making you squirm and moan. Wonwoo holds you down when you start to move and close your legs on his head.

“I’ve missed this,” Wonwoo mutters as he sucks and kisses your cunt. You’re a moaning mess and even worse when you see him looking right at you as he licks your wetness. “I’ve missed you,” he says, eyes locked to yours, tongue slowly licking up, showing you exactly how wet you are for him through his tongue. He climbs back and kisses you, letting you taste yourself.

Wonwoo takes this moment to slide to fingers in while you’re making out. His mouth swallows your moans when he fingers you fast, your cunt making a scandalous schluck, schluck, schluck sound as his fingers pound you hard and fast. You’re about to cum when Wonwoo stops.

“Do you have a condom?” He asks and that’s when it hits you.

“Fuck, I don’t,” you answer. Wonwoo nods and says it’s okay. He lays on his side beside and starts to slide his fingers again.

“I’ll make you cum like this,” he assures but you shake your head.

“I’m clean,” you say suddenly. Wonwoo takes the message. “I’ve never had sex with anybody after you.”

“Me neither,” he answers and you’re already gone.

“Pull out,” you remind him. “I’m not ovulating so we should be good.”

Wonwoo agrees and removes his pants. His erection springs and it’s huge and red and you sit up to touch him but Wonwoo stops you.

“I might cum as soon as you touch me,” he says. “Next time.”

Next time. Next time. Next time.

You nod and lie back down on your pillows, legs open for Wonwoo, all wet and ready for him. Wonwoo settles between you, one hand on the bed steadying himself and the other holding his hardness. He massages his tip nice and slow with your clit and it takes everything in you not to take matters into your hands and ride the fuck out of him. You let Wonwoo take his time when he slides into you slowly.

He’s as big as you remember, but he prepared you well (and wet) enough for your cunt to swallow his cock gracefully. Wonwoo is a mess when you look at him. His face is read and contorted into a look of pleasure when he feels how warm you are inside.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re still just as warm.”

He begins to slide in and out, a steady pace, and kisses you all over your face, asking if you feel good. You nod and let out a moan when he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

“You feel exactly the same since the last time.” Since you left. “And I love you,” Wonwoo says. “I love you.”

He says it over and over again. He says it when he pulls out for a second, bringing your legs up on his shoulders and fucking you deeply on your bed. He says it when he spreads your legs again, diving back to your lips, and tells you he’s about to cum. He says it over and over again when he makes you cum first, fingers making circles on your clit as he swallows the noises you make when you reach your orgasm. And he says it when he continues fucking you until he has to pull out and cum on your stomach.

You say it back when Wonwoo carries you to the toilet because he knows you need to pee after sex. You say it again when he cleans you up with the shower head and a towel. You say it again when he carries you back to bed and pulls the covers over your body, kissing you on the lips and on the forehead. You say it again when he’s asleep and you’re staring at the digital clock on your bedside table, Wonwoo hugging you from behind, his naked chest keeping you warm.

Just when you’re about to drift off to sleep, you look at the time again. 1:56 am, it says, and you wonder if it’s going to hurt if it doesn’t work out with Wonwoo for the second time.

Your back aches a little, a small groan leaving your lips when you adjust your torso so that it's more comfortable. Wonwoo remembers it like the back of his hand and helps you adjust yourself so that your back is not as stiff. He mumbles a soft I love you, and you hum when his thumb makes small circles on the skin of your stomach.

The last thing in your mind before completely passing out is the answer: yes. It’s going to hurt.

**

A routine is made after that night.

Wonwoo had woken up long before you, but he stayed on the same position as you slept. The only difference was that he had his phone in his hands as you slept soundly. He had kissed you as soon as he realized you were awake like it’s the most normal thing to do. He had dressed up and said he’ll pick you and Jihoon up for dinner and that he had to leave because he had to do his laundry before Monday arrives.

Indeed, Wonwoo had picked you up that same evening. When he held your hand and kissed you in the car, Jihoon didn’t say anything. After that dinner, Wonwoo stayed the night again (and this time, you and him had to be more quiet because Jihoon was awake and sober in the other room).

The routine goes like this: Wonwoo picks you up from work every day because he clocks out at the same time and eats dinner with you or with you and Jihoon if the latter is not busy. Sometimes he would take you out for dinner, other times he asks you to cook for him at your apartment. He does home and only stays the night if it’s the weekend. When Jihoon leaves Seoul for Busan, he tells you he's happy his best friends are together again, and warns that love is more painful the second time around as much as it is sweeter.

Some weekends, Wonwoo would take you to his father and brother’s apartment nearby the university. Bohyuk looked confused, most likely why you’re suddenly in the picture again when he knows all too well that it didn’t end up nicely between you and his brother,  but he never said anything.

It’s easy to fall into a routine with Wonwoo, and the lines were never blurred. He never shied away from admitting how he felt and conveniently, you had always felt the same.

He apologized for leaving you behind (though, him leaving Changwon wouldn’t have been so bad, you could have compromised) and for never making an effort all because he was too excited to venture out his new life in Seoul. He spends hours talking about his experience and how much he missed you every step of the way. And just like that, you and Wonwoo are back together.

All is well, at least for the time being.

**

The program launch was a success six months in. You had underestimated yourself in the beginning, yet here you are after months of working hard, recognized and praised by your bosses with how efficient you had worked for the last six months.

They jokingly tell you that you’re free to go back home now, but Seoul will always be ready for you whenever you wanted to come back.

And in the last six months, you have learned love the place despite its noise and how busy it is all the time. You have understood why people sought after Seoul’s vibrance and why people find inspiration when they visit the city. You have seen different personalities and realized that maybe it’s not the city that’s giving the place colors, maybe it’s the people and their diversities and quirks. Seoul, finally, is a place you like and would often visit if given the chance.

But in the end, home is still home.

People think that all small town girls want to venture out the big city and learn life from there, but it’s different for you. You like Changwon, and as much as you love Seoul now, nothing compares to home.

And so you decide to go back home.

And Wonwoo wasn’t taking it well.

“But I thought you love Seoul,” he argues when you drop the bomb on him.

“I do,” you answer. “And I love you. But it’s not home, Wonwoo.”

He licks his lips, frustrated and leans back from the dining chair. “Y/N, stay. You’ll do well here.”

“I’ll do better in Changwon, Won,” you reply. “Besides, it’s not like we’re breaking up again. We know better now.”

“You don’t know that,” he mumbles and drinks from the glass.

You sigh, losing the appetite. “Won. I supported you when you wanted to move to Seoul. Can’t you do the same for me?”

“Am I not enough?” He mumbles. You understand but you ask him to repeat. “Am I not enough?”

You laugh sardonically. “It's funny because I was asking myself the exact same thing when you left me for Seoul.”

Wonwoo sighs. “That was different, Y/N. We were just starting our careers back then. It was an opportunity I couldn’t miss. It’s different this time. You have the choice to stay.”

“And you had the choice to visit me once or twice and to make it work,” you retort. Wonwoo is taken aback by your sudden attitude. “But you didn’t. In your head, it was all Seoul. You told me you didn’t have a reason to come home.”

“I only said that because I was pissed,” he answers. “You’re the one who broke up with me.”

“And you didn’t bother calling back,” you respond. It’s true. He never called back, never tried to apologize, never took a train home to ask you to take him back – which you would have. In a heartbeat. Without a doubt.

“Was I not enough?” You ask the question back to him. “Was I not enough for you to compromise, Wonwoo? Now, am I not enough for you to finally learn how to compromise and make this work?”

Wonwoo stays silent. You can’t read his mind, so you pick up the dishes and wash up. He avoids you at all costs. By the time the clock hits 9 pm, Wonwoo bids you goodbye – but not before kissing you on the forehead.

When the door is shut, you start to cry and pack your things.

***

Your flight is three days from now, but Soonyoung is already acting like it’s your last day. He reckons it would be nice to have dinner at the same barbecue place for the last time because you would be too busy for he next two days.

The dinner is nice, as always, and Wonwoo is silent the whole time. Soonyoung teases him and tells his friend not to be too sad that you’re going back, unaware of the fight you and the latter had two days ago.

When dinner is done, Wonwoo drives you home and announces that he’s staying the night. You let him and kiss him on the lips before taking a shower.

Wonwoo hugs you while you scroll through your phone on the bed.

It’s been two days and all he’s done is to mope around. He has followed you everywhere but hasn’t said anything about you moving. He takes care of you, kisses you, and even makes love to you but he doesn’t talk about the elephant in the room. You are just as bad; you don’t say anything either.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly when you’re laughing at a video from Instagram, you almost miss it.

“What was that?” you ask, pausing the video and looking up at him. Your head is resting on his arm, his hand playing with one of yours.

“I’m sorry,” he says it again, clearly this time. “I thought about us a lot, even talked to Jihoon and asked for his insights. And I realized how insensitive I have been towards you and this relationship. Jihoon told me about how much pain you went through three years ago—“

“Wonwoo, you’ve already been forgiven,” you interrupt.

“No, please let me apologize properly,” he says. “Three years ago, Changwon wasn’t the place for me. I was happy with you but I knew it in my heart that I couldn’t stay in Changwon. The first week in Seoul was the best week of my life. I had learned how to deal with different personalities here, and found myself learning about my own potentials that I couldn’t see when I was in Changwon. I was happy in Seoul, and it had always felt incomplete because you weren’t around. And I knew you never wanted to move.

“I had asked father and Bohyuk to move here because I knew they’d be better off here, too. And I knew deep down, you weren’t too keen of the idea of moving here with me someday, and that made me mad. That made me think as though you didn’t love me enough to even visit me every weekend, not realizing that you did. You do. You loved me so much that you let me go even when you were lonely and missing me most days. You supported me, and took your days off with me so that we could make it work.

“I was the one who didn’t love you enough to see through what we could have done and compromised to be together until the end. And with you being here in Seoul for the last six months,  I have learned that I can never be truly happy if you’re not with me. So, I’m sorry, Y/N, that I had been too selfish years ago and even now. I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize once again a mistake I could have done for the second time. I’m sorry that you had to double your efforts back then and that I had made you feel like you weren’t enough – and the truth is that you are. More than enough if you ask me. And I am willing to meet you halfway to make it work this time.”

By the time Wonwoo is done, you’re already crying and hugging him. You don’t realize this until Wonwoo laughs and comments about how you made a paper towel out of his shirt. You apologize and stand to grab another shirt for him. He thanks you and helps you wipe your tears as you and him sit across each other on your bed.

“So how do we do this?” he asks. “We can take turns going back and forth from Changwon and here.”

“They’re promoting me as senior manager for both sites: Changwon and Seoul,” you announce. Wonwoo gasps and hugs you. “You can come visit me if you miss me too much, but I’d like to talk about moving some of my things to your apartment if you don’t mind.. I’m giving this place up.”

Wonwoo kisses you again and again, saying he’s proud of you and tells you that he’s going to start moving your things tomorrow. You tell him that you will still take the flight to Changwon in three days to check on your team, but you’ll most likely be back in a month.

You and Wonwoo spend hours talking about your plans, and somehow it reminds you of three years ago when Wonwoo had to leave. But this time, instead of hushed promises, you and him had plans: a timetable and a commitment to make it work this time.

Wonwoo randomly brings up the question of marriage and what would happen by the time you and him decide to tie the knot. You kiss him goodnight and tell him that you’ll cross the bridge when you get there. He asks if you would marry him if he asks you.

You say yes before you and him drift to sleep.

***

The flight back to Changwon took an hour at least. Your luggage weighs lighter compared to how heavy it was when you left six months ago.

There is a light, hopeful feeling in your chest as you push your luggage in the middle of the busy arrival area. Your phone dings, but you decide you’d check it later when you reach home.

Changwon is much, much warmer than Seoul, and you kind of forgotten because you wore a jacket before departing the city. Its salty air hits you as soon as you step out of the airport and suddenly, you’re reminded why you loved home so much.

The taxi stops right in front of you. The old man helps you with your luggage albeit light. You thank him and he asks you the address. His accent tells you you’re home.

Your phone dings again, and you pull out your phone this time.

The messages are from Wonwoo. The first one is a picture of him pouting with a caption “missing you already x”.

The second one is a message that makes your heart swell.

From: Wonuuu <3 Seoul is colder without you. Have a great time in Changwon, love. Trust that your Wonwoo will wait for you.

[miinatozakiii]

are we still friends? (can we be friends?)

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; fluff, angst 

synopsis: seeing sana again during christmas causes feelings to resurface

warnings: food ; alcohol ; datzu crumbs ; cursing ; proofread halfway bc i got lazy + grammar and spelling errors probably

a/n: how to write angst?? am i cooked?? (I'm cooked) ALSO I wrote this in December so a lonnnngg time ago like when I touched the doc for the first time two days ago it said last edited 12/30/23 T-T

“y/n! come help with the decorations, it a bit tough to reach.” your mom calls out from the entrance.  

pausing in your place, you turn to respond to her, “i’ll be there in a bit, let me finish mixing everything.” 

“okay honey. make sure to wear a coat when you get out here, it’s chilly!” she yells back before closing the door. 

a giggle leaves your lips as you continue to sift the dry ingredients, trying not to spill the flour and sugar. when you’re done with a part of your cookie process, you wash your hands and throw on your puffer jacket before heading out to help your mom. 

christmas is in four days and your mom has this annual thing where she throws a big party at your place every christmas eve. she invites all her friends who are back in town—some even fly out to come to this big event—and it goes on until the concerningly late hours of the night.  

your mom didn’t get to throw this big party last year because she was terribly sick, so you missed it that time, but now she’s so back.  

this means you’re in charge of the baking (yet again) and also helping her out everywhere. it’s not that you don’t enjoy this, if anything you look forward to this event—just not this year, it won’t be the same as the previous christmas parties. 

your mom has this friend who moved in five minutes away from your house when you were twelve, and they had a daughter your age. of course, both your mothers found a way to get you guys to meet, and eventually, you’d be spending the majority of your middle and high school years together stuck by the hip. 

her name was minatozaki sana; she was the first person you had fallen in love with inside and out.  

she had this type of vibrance to her that spread through her surroundings like a bullet train. if the room was dim, it’d seem like she had brought a piece of the sun inside just by being there, instantly illuminating it. it was palpable that she had her flaws, everyone did, but with the way she held herself up and gave her all, you’d see right past her imperfections and into that warm heart of hers. 

sana expected nothing and appreciated everything, that’s what made her lips curl up into a contagious grin. the streaks of creased skin in the corner of her eyes as she flashed that toothy grin gave everyone the intimation that she was simply overjoyed to be able to have the ability to love and to care. she was so beautiful in the way she found adoration so enticing, and that’s why you had fallen in love with her. 

your years with her passed by quickly, each year was filled with vibrant memories that led you to fall even deeper into her charm. however, you never mustered up the courage to tell her how you really felt toward her, and by the time you had gotten close to spilling out your pent up feelings; sana had found herself a little boyfriend. 

chris was some guy on the basketball team—who was also a bit short and lacking skill to even make the team—he was an arrogant, pretentious, and egotistical snob who managed to win sana’s heart. how did he do this? who knows, everyone who’s interacted with him either hates his guts or is in love with his pathetic self.  

he was only nice around sana, but you had seen him when he wasn’t pretending like there wasn't a stick up his ass. he was below the bare minimum and that’s how you’d describe him, he was nowhere near sana’s league. if anything, maybe you were just jealous (and that you were), but you knew what kind of person deserved sana—chris was not someone who deserved a wonderful woman like her. 

that asshole managed to win sana’s heart and keep it for half of junior year and all of senior year of high school, then he managed to convince her to go to a college that was a five-hour flight away from home—and by the way, your town was a two-hour drive from a well-known, top notch university, one that you and sana agreed to go to when you were both in middle school. 

there was no way you’d let sana go to that college, not when chris was the reason she was going. it was a school that wasn’t even comparable to the one not so far from home, the one that had significant alumni and programs fit for the both of you. sana could easily win a decent scholarship to the university you’ve been dreaming of going to, but she was going to let him change her mind in a matter of seconds. 

there was no way you’d let that happen, so you simply walked over to her house and stormed up to her room after seeing her text regarding this whole plan, a fool’s plan.  

- 

you remember the argument that shattered your friendships in seconds, almost like it was yesterday. 

“sana, you can’t just go to that school because of chris. look, i’m saying this as your friend and because i love you: he’s not all that, and the uni nearby has great health programs, they’re ten times better than the school over there and you know it.” you argue.  

you’re pacing around the room that you and sana have had countless late-night conversations and sleepovers in, the place where you had done more for sana than chris did. your eyes land on the two strips of laminated paper that hold the memory of the time you two had gone to the photobooth on your sixteenth birthday, your brows crease at the sight of your cheeks squished with sana’s as the two of you posed. a heavy breath makes your lungs shrink as you exhale. 

“i can’t let you do this, not for him sana.” 

“but i love him so much y/n, you know this. he promised we could stay in an apartment together and that everything would be perfect, we have a whole future planned and i—” 

“what about us sana?” you cut her off, voice breaking slightly. “what about our future? we promised that we’d go to that uni together, what happened to that? you’re going to throw it away for him?” 

“you’re being ridiculous y/n, we were thirteen! things change and you need to grow up, look—”  

“we’ve known each other since elementary school and you’re throwing away this opportunity for a guy whose grades are falling apart. not only that, he’s a fucking ass! you’ve come crying and complaining to me more times than i can count on my left hand.” you respond angrily, and much louder than you meant to. 

sana looks at you in disbelief, her expression almost carrying some sort of disappointment or disgust. she scoffs and you feel your heart shatter just from hearing it, this isn’t like her at all. 

“if you were so fucking annoyed by my misery then you could’ve told me,” she responds harshly, water lining her eyes.  

“sana that’s not what i—" 

“you’re supposed to be my best friend, always there for me and to support me. now look at you, what happened to that? can’t you be happy for me and chris? i seriously love him and all you’ve been is mopey and bitchy whenever he’s around.” 

“i know more people that have treated you better than him. he’s an asshole sana, it’s clear as day and even dahyun agrees.” 

her eyes meet the floor and she says in a smaller voice, “i love him y/n, and he loves me.” 

not like i love you, never will he love you like that. 

your features soften as you look at her. “sana you can’t—” 

“get out of my room.” sana spits in a stinging tone that’s worse than a dagger to your heart. she shakes her head then turns to avoid your gaze and your heart completely shatters as you watch a tear slide down her cheek in the process. “get out of my house, i don’t want to hear it.” 

“sana,” you begin, but when you hear her sniffle, you hold back everything that’s burning in your chest. your shoulders give up and sink in defeat before you croak out an “okay.” 

turning around, you step out of her bedroom with a heavy heart and trembling lips. tears stream down your cheeks as you make your way out of the house where sana and you had spent countless hours together—hours that you’d never forget no matter how hard you tried. 

- 

each breath you take is visible in the cold air and snow compresses with each step you take whilst hanging up the christmas lights. your mother smiles once you pin the last string up and  then you take a step back to admire the illuminating pattern of diverse hues beaming when your mom presses the “on” button. 

“thank you again honey, i appreciate it.” your mom says, holding your hand and squeezing it gently.  

you turn and smile at her, shaking your head before responding, “anytime mom.” 

the two of you enter the house again and immediately you’re on your way back to the kitchen to finish up your famous cookies. you three different types of cookies: chocolate chip cookies (the fastest batch to be eaten), matcha cookies with white chocolate chips, and ube cookies—sana’s favorites. 

-- 

“ube? what’s that?” sana says, giggling softly as you hand her a purple cookie with white chocolate chunks.  

“just try it sana, you’ll love it.” you assure, urging her to try. “it’s purple too, how could you not?” 

she rolls her eyes at you then picks up the sweet treat, taking a bite of the cookie. it’s crunchy on the outside and perfectly soft on the inside, making her shoulders sink down and eyes close when the new, thrilling flavor meets her tastebuds. 

“so, how is it?” you ask, raising your brows. sana simply smiles and nods, shooting a dorky thumbs up before taking another bite. 

“it’s wonderful, it’s like coconut and nutty and has vanilla and oh my gosh it’s so… it’s really good.” she sighs, melting as she consumes your baked good. she looks adorable. 

you laugh at her response and take a bite of your own experiment, eyes widening at how good they were. sana was right, they’re wonderful. 

-- 

“ah the purple cookies, those were a hit ever since you started making them.” your mom says, rubbing your back. she looks at you with some pity, knowing about your little falling out with sana. 

you simply smile and nod. “i like them, i was going to save some for myself too.” you joke, easing some tension in the air. 

“well, i’m going to call your dad up, go visit the kim’s later and tell them i said hi.” your mom insists, placing a twenty dollar bill on the marble counter. “heard they have a holiday latte out, you should try it. dahyun’s also been experimenting with her baking and beverages, she gets better each time i visit.” 

“of course she is,” you chuckle lightheartedly, “let me just finish these last cookies and i’ll put them in the fridge for a bit. did you want anything from their place?” 

“no, it’s fine. oh wait! i have a present for dahyun’s mom, can you give her this if she’s there?” she asks. 

“mhm,” you hum,  “just put it near my bag on the couch.” 

“thanks sweetie, i’ll do that.” your mother beams, then rushes towards her room to grab whatever it was that she needed. 

-- 

ring  

the sound of the bell chimes throughout the café—which is not too busy other than the elderly group in the corner and a student typing away at their computer to the side. you catch sight of the familiar face, instantly grinning when you walk towards the register. 

dahyun is turned away from you and cleaning the espresso machine, wiping it down and yelling a “welcome! feel free to check out the holiday pastries and beverages!” without turning towards you. 

you laugh and speak up, “it’s nice to see you miss know-it-all.” and upon hearing your voice dahyun instantly turns around, beaming a bright grin and setting her rag down. 

“y/n? you didn’t tell me you were in town? what the hell where were you last year?” she questions, walking out from behind the counter and then towards you to greet you with a warm hug. she smells like coffee grinds and cinnamon, you hug her back and smile. 

“i was deathly sick last year, like seriously fighting for my life. i didn’t tell you?” 

“no stupid, you didn’t.” she sighs, then pulls away to look at you. “i’ve only seen your instagram posts, haven’t seen you in a bit and wow… you look better than in the pictures.” 

“thank you?” you giggle before she walks over to return back behind the register. “i’ve also seen your instagram… who’s that girl you’ve been posting? got a girl and didn’t fill me in with the details?” you pry, smirking cheekily. 

“oh, tzu… gosh y/n we have so much to talk about, i’m glad you’re back in town.” dahyun says appreciatively, and you don’t miss the slight pink that dusts on her cheeks before she starts again, “let’s talk over some coffee. what can i get you? on the house by the way. we have like, thirty minutes before a bunch of people start piling in.” 

a giggle leaves your lips again before you decide on a peppermint mocha. dahyun gets to work and weighs out the coffee grins as you situate yourself to the side, watching her work her magic. 

the two of you catch up on what’s been going on with college, dahyun’s love life that you’ve missed out on, and what you’ve been up to yourself. twenty minutes pass and you’ve both ended up on some old memory that has the two of you laughing like idiots again, making both your stomachs hurt. 

“so… we’ve talked about what’s been going on with me… what about you and your love life? bet you’ve met a girl too.” dahyun interrogates with a teasing tone.  

“oh, well—” you begin, awkwardly staring at the cup in your hand. “i dated this girl for a while, but we ended up falling out and staying friends, nothing much… we just weren’t right for each other.” 

“i see…” dahyun responds, holding herself back from bringing up the sensitive topic—or, well, person.  

dahyun was aware of the falling out as well, but still stayed friends with sana. however, she was your friend before she met sana, so she had made sure if it was alright to keep contact and whatnot. of course you didn’t want your own personal problems to get in between other friendships, and you still loved sana despite everything that had happened so you gave dahyun the green light.  

after running to dahyun the same night of the argument with sana, you cried for an hour or two in her room. this was the first time you turned to someone other than sana, and dahyun had been on your side of the whole situation, making it easier to comfort and reassure you. she also disliked chris, but not as much as she liked you. 

she pretty much agreed with everything you had ranted about and thought it was stupid that sana would rather choose that asshole over someone like you, and later on you’d confess that you were in love with sana to dahyun. when everything had been rocky with sana, dahyun had been by your side, and you were grateful for that. 

“well, maybe you’ll land yourself a kiss under the mistletoe, who knows who’ll be showing up to your christmas party.” dahyun nudges you, smiling as she hands you some peppermint chocolate bark treat. “i could always set you up~” 

“it’s fine, really.” you guarantee. a smile spreads across your face and you dismiss her offer with a wave of your hand. “um, by the way… has um, has she stopped by or anything like that recently? does sana still visit—" 

there’s another ring from the door opening that cuts you off, making dahyun’s attention redirect towards the customer walking in. her eyes widen and she pauses in place before smiling awkwardly, then she mumbles an uneasy “um, be back…” before walking over to the register. 

you don’t think much of her weird mood shift and instead swirl around the small remainder of coffee in the latte cup. 

“hi dahyun! it’s nice to see you again.” a voice beams.  

you freeze in place, all of your body tensing up as soon as the familiar voice processes through your ears. it’s smooth, it’s sweet, and it has that same high-pitched ring and giggle that follows. immediately, your heartbeat spikes and you’re doing anything you can to avoid interacting or even looking in the woman’s direction. 

“it’s nice to see you too sana,” dahyun greets with a bubbly tone. the name being uttered from dahyun’s mouth is enough to make your hands grip the cup in your hand a little tighter. “can i get you anything?”  

“hm… i’ll have that peppermint mocha please. i’m also going to take a look around the bakery, i need to grab some treats for others. you know how it is, holidays and whatnot.” sana says in that adorable tone, it has you falling for her all over again just when you thought you’d gotten over everything that’s happened. 

quickly, you finish the last sip of your coffee before setting the empty cup down abruptly. it makes a small yet noticeable sound with the glass plate it had been sitting on, making sana advert her gaze.  

the small gift you had set down beside you is now placed on the glass that covers the display of christmas themed cakes. dahyun looks at you in confusion and tilts her head before you turn to smile at her, avoiding sana’s widening eyes. 

“thanks for the coffee dahyun, take the present on the glass to your mom—it’s from my mom to yours.” you start, trying to keep your voice level 

every ounce of restraint and discipline is fighting back the urge to simply glance at sana, who’s standing right in front of dahyun. you almost manage to avoid her, but it’s inevitable, your eyes land on your first love for the first time in almost two years. 

she’s looking at you with parted lips and surprise, but she still looks as beautiful as you remember. sana looks a little more mature than when you last saw her; the curve of her jaw is sharper, lips somehow brighter and her features are more defined overall. sana is wearing a scarf that fits around her neck comfortably, a brown, fluffy sweater, and dark sweatpants with uggs to compliment the outfit. there’s simplicity in her look—she’s jaw dropping, the sight of her makes your jaw tighten and heartbeat spike.  

her eyes meet yours for exactly three seconds, enough time to have every memory flowing in. 

clearing your throat, you finish your farewell to dahyun with a smile, “i’ll see you around, my mom says hi to your mom, tell her i also said hi too. i’ll get going now, have a good one.” 

your body doesn’t fight back the urge to glance at sana again—big mistake—before turning around and walking out the door. 

sana keeps her look on you the whole time, baffled to see you here and her own heart yearns for you. she’s missed you more than you’d ever know, and more than she’d like to admit. it doesn’t help her case that you’re ten times more attractive than when she’d last seen you at graduation. 

“you should talk to her.” dahyun says softly. sana keeps her eye on the door, you’re already out and probably in your car, but she keeps her eye on the door still. 

“were you talking to her earlier?” sana asks, now turning to face the younger woman. 

“we were catching up.” dahyun answers. the woman behind the register turns around to start making sana’s drink, unknowingly the same drink you had ordered. it all makes dahyun’s own heart sink in her chest a bit. “how long has it been since you’ve talked to her?” 

“since graduation.” sana explains, looking down at the counter. “i messed up.” 

dahyun turns around again to see sana, sorrow and regret etching into her features. the barista frows and reaches over to place her hand on sana’s shoulder, then rubs it gently.  

“talk to her, there’s always time to fix things. especially with y/n.” 

-- 

a few days past since that meeting, you’re still shaken up from it to say the least.  

sana is too, but you aren’t aware of that. 

to stray away from this event that is dreadfully close to leading to some form of existential crisis or spiral, you’re helping your mom out with setting up the last few decorations and tables while your cookies that you chilled a couple days ago bake.  

dahyun is also coming over with her girlfriend in the evening to exchange a couple of greetings and to properly introduce her girlfriend tzuyu to you. your mother had met tzuyu before and talked highly about her, so you were excited to meet her yourself.  

when the time comes, you hear a knock at the door and shoot up to answer it. you open the door and dahyun stands there with a nervous grin on her face. next to her stands tzuyu—and sana.  

your eyes widen and your jaw tenses when you see her perfect face, standing next to tzuyu with this awkward smile. she’s wearing a gray pullover and black sweatpants; an orange scarf also wraps around her neck comfortably. she looks snug and cute as ever, no matter what she’s adorable in your eyes. your heart flutters and you get all nervous like a teenager again. 

pushing away the edginess flowing throughout your whole being, you greet dahyun with a warm hug, then give tzuyu and friendly one as well. you’re not sure how to greet sana, being all shaken up by just her presence, so you resort to a smile and a small “hi sana,” then invite them all in. 

sana walks in and her hand brushes against your arm on accident, the two of you definitely notice it—though you both decide to ignore it and the warmth in your chests.  

your mom greets all the girls with a hug and the five of you sit down in your homey living room. sana sits across from you on the couch next to your mom, and you sit there avoiding eye contact as you all catch up. 

an hour passes by and dahyun is over in the living room talking to your mom about what’s been going on with her parents and the bakery. in the meantime, you decide to give yourself a break from feeling all nervous just by being near sana. 

standing up, you announce, “i’m going to the kitchen for a bit.” your mom simply raises her brows at your sudden departure, you’ve been silent for most of the conversation and it seems like you’re the only one affected by the tension in the room. “won’t be long.” you add, smiling weakly. 

the fridge is still full of some essentials, and to the side, there’s some cold brew and your favorite coconut milk; everything you need is right where you need it. you head over to the counter and grab your favorite glass cup, heart stinging at the memory of when you had received it. it was one of the many gifts from sana. 

you grab some ice and put it in the cup, then add your cold brew inside. then you grab a small cup with some honey and search for a spoon so you can mix it in with the coconut milk. 

“drinking coffee at this time?” a voice says, making you freeze. you break out of your short trance and hum in response before continuing to make your drink. 

“you know i can’t resist a good coffee, sana.” and the way her name slips off your tongue feels right. you haven’t said it often since the falling out and it still rolls off perfectly, it feels right coming from you. you’re hesitant to talk again, feeling her eyes drill into your back. something in your heart shifts and you manage to ask, “did you want something to drink?” 

“yeah,” she answers, walking over to you and sitting at the kitchen island. “same thing you’re drinking, but sweeter.” 

of course she wants it sweet, just like always.  

“okay.”  

your back is still turned towards sana and she watches you grab another glass. as you do so, she gets a glimpse of your own glass and smiles. “is that the cup i got you?”  

still fixing up her drink, you nod and answer, “yeah. it’s my favorite.” 

“a lot of your gifts are my favorites too.” she admits, her voice so soft and fragile that you’re scared the thick tension in the air might break it. 

sana watches you turn around, but you still avoid her gaze. you place both cups on the surface of the kitchen island and begin to pour the coconut milk mixtures into the coffee. the liquids swirl as they combine, creating a satisfying view. sana’s quick to redirect her attention back to you, staring at your face again. 

last time she had saw you at dahyun’s cafe, she only had the chance to get a simple glance at your features, not enough time to fully take in everything that’s changed about your apperance. there’s two new piercings on both ears and a new, small tattoo below your ear; the length of your hair is also noticeably longer. your lips part as you swirl both cups in your hands around, and then you take a quick glance to the side, allowing sana to admire your side profile and the unique curve of your nose and lips. 

you hold the mug out for her and finally meet her eyes again. sana’s favorite thing about you were your eyes, they’re still as pretty as she remembers.  

- 

it’s some thursday night during your sophomore year of high school, you were supposed to be studying with sana for your math quiz tomorrow, but she had other ideas.  

“stay still,” sana mumbles softly. 

she situates you in the chair near her desk and tilts your head up with the fingers holding your chin. she’s inches away from you as she puts some sort of sponge on your face, brows creasing as she does so. your heart is racing. 

after a couple of minutes, sana finishes up your makeup. she’s done some type of natural look on you, nothing too heavy or bold. you look at yourself through the mirror and take a moment to examine sana’s doings. as you do so, sana can’t keep her eyes off you. 

something in her heart shifts as she admires you. her eyes land on your lips, they’re oddly alluring, and sana’s cheeks burn. 

“sana you’re staring… do i look weird?” 

“no,” she practically breathes out, mouth slightly agape. “you’re beautiful.” she says breathlessly, her expression turning all serious it makes you giggle awkwardly. 

there have been many moments where sana has found you pretty, not just physically. your small gifts and reassurance have made her heart flutter, but she’s always figured that was just because she loved you deeply as a friend. but when you stare at her with those eyes in this moment, she’s so surprised by everything she feels. she's giddy and happy and warm inside and gosh her heart wants to jump out her chest and cling onto you. she's not opposed to the feeling; she always has this feeling aorunf you and she loves it. that's why she’s always around you in the first place. 

her face burns and you’re gazing at her all confused, you look so cute. 

growing nervous from how non-verbal sana has been, you try to shake her out of her trance. “hey, you’re scaring me. earth to sana? hellooooo…?” 

“how are you so pretty all the time.” sana’s eyes soften and her whole body relaxes as she rests her head on her palm. “like, your face is so perfect and your eyes… god y/n, whoever gets to be with you would be so lucky, seriously. like, you’re honestly the prettiest girl in our school, how do you not have a boyfriend?” 

your cheeks flush from the abrupt compliment, so you push her gently and giggle. sana giggles along with you, still star-struck. you’re both young and unknowingly in love with each other—giggles and teasing seem to be the only way to hide that. 

- 

sana has always found you attractive, after all these years she still hasn’t figured out why she made the mistake of pursuing chris instead of the person who was always there for her—and ten times prettier. you’ve always been right there, she’s a fool for looking right past you. 

sana grabs the mug, still making eye contact with you and both your eyes soften at the same time. 

“y/n i’m sorry.” she says immediately, “i messed up really bad and—” 

“sana,” you cut her off, “just enjoy the drink.” she watches you smile at her, it’s genuine and small, still enough to calm her nerves. you grab your glass and walk towards the door to the porch, tilting your head and urging her to come follow. sana figures she could pour her heart out later, if it were on the porch it wouldn’t be the first time she’s poured out her emotions there.  

the two of you find a seat across from each other, the fairy lights above create some type of ambiance to ease the tension that’s hanging in the air like an invisible cloak of some sort, suffocating the two of you with its unease. 

“how have you been?” sana asks. it’s cliché, but what else was she supposed to say?  

you don’t look up from the drink in your hand when you respond, “good, you?”  

“likewise.” sana lies, her jaw clenching.  

“you know,” you begin, and with intent, your eyes meet her face and she’s doing the same as you had been doing before; she simply sits there with the drink in her hand, looking quite on edge. “i figured if i were to see you again like this, chris would be with you.”  

“we broke up three months after we moved in together.” sana says quietly, “i broke up with him.” 

“sana…” you mumble quietly, surprised to say the least. “why— what?” 

“i ruined everything between you and i because i was so blinded by his affection, i couldn’t stay with him anymore with guilt clawing at me.” she explains, her voice breaking slightly. “and i couldn’t bring myself to talk to you after hurting you. losing you was the biggest mistake of my life. god, it took everything in me to come back to you.” 

“you never lost me sana,”  

“i’m just… sorry for everything, i really am.” she says sincerely, “and i don’t think enough words could really explain how sorry i am.” 

you look at her with pity, and despite her coldness towards you during the last semester of your senior year, you decide to let everything go. she’s your best friend after all, you promised yourself to be there. 

“it’s okay.” you say, it’s not the truth, but it’s not a lie either. “it was my fault too for letting the distance between us get larger.” 

“don’t say that, it’s not your fault.” sana sighs. she takes a sip of the coffee, it’s good, of course— everything you’ve ever made for her has been great. “i only stayed with chris because i was scared. that’s why it was so easy for me to leave everyone i loved behind, i think.” 

“scared? …of what?” 

she looks dead into your eyes and exhales, “i realized that, that maybe i was with chris because i was trying to push down how i felt about you.” 

you tilt your head in confusion, then begin to pry, “sana what do you mean—" 

“y/n, i was falling for you and it terrified me. i mean, i loved you, and honestly, i think i still do. i'm so fucking dumb, god i'm just oblivious.” sana says, then immediately, your heart rate spikes and your brows raise. she continues while fidgeting with her fingers, “i guess it’s easier to admit now because we’ve grown distant, and physically we’re distant enough. chris treated me alright and loved me, but i came crying to you all the time because he never treated me like how i wanted you to treat me, i don’t know why i did that. i don’t know why i let myself go through that when i had you. every time i’d kiss him i wished it were you, every time we did anything honestly.” 

sana's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, their glossy shine failing to hide the immense emotions she was desperately trying to suppress. the weight of her confession hung in the air, causing the entire world to momentarily freeze. it felt as though time itself had paused, giving you a moment to absorb the magnitude of her words. 

sana loved you, and she still does. you loved her, and you still do.  

but really, you can’t. you can’t go through with this. it’s too sudden, so unorganized and uncertain. 

all of this is a recipe for disaster. 

the echo of her vulnerability reverberated through the atmosphere, your mind spun in a cyclone of emotions. thoughts collided and collided again like football players during some game, leaving your head in a dizzying state of confusion, the sheer intensity of it all was jarring, leaving you all disoriented. the feelings you suppressed were finding their way back out, and you found yourself teetering on the precipice of vulnerability once again, just as you did years ago. 

finding out that sana loved you still gave you hope, but the revelation also made you uneasy. it had been too long without sana, and so much had happened, so there was the chance that things would be all rocky. besides, it’s just too sudden. 

“i’m— sorry for dumping all of this, i just wanted to give you closure because… well, i should’ve given you it years ago.” a tear streams down her eye as she says this, and then she begins to stand. “i should leave, i’m sorry for not letting you know i was coming— god i’m so sorry.” 

“sana wait—” you start, grabbing her wrist. she looks into your eyes, her’s are still glossy. you decide it’s better to let her go for now, unsure if this is the last time you’ll see her after this—hopefully not. “it’s okay, just… be careful. you know i’m always here, always sha.” 

the nickname that you made up for her makes her heart crack a little, she can only smile back at you for now. 

— 

the conversation between dahyun, tzuyu, and your mom is interrupted when dahyun catches the sight of sana pulling her scarf off the hook and wrapping it around her neck again. she takes account of the slight flush of her nose and cheeks, as well as her water-lined eyes. 

“you’re leaving?” dahyun asks, concern clear in her tone. sana simply smiles and nods, “yeah, i’ll see you at the holiday party. it was nice seeing you too miss l/n, i missed all of this.” 

“you’re always welcome honey,” your mother assures, “where’s y/n?” 

“out on the porch, she said she’ll be back in a bit. i’ll see you all, thank you.” sana says before departing, leaving the three women in the living room perplexed. 

a few minutes later whilst the three in the living room conjure up theories of what had happened while you and sana had been gone—you appear with a blank expression. you sit down next to your mom and lean against her, not saying a word. 

tzuyu (who is only briefly caught up with whatever had happened between you and sana, and she deinfitely needs a thorough presentation on your history) looks at dahyun and tilts her head, dahyun simply shakes her own head. 

“sana and i talked a bit, resolved and made things clear.” you say, answering the elephant in the room. “i’m heading up, i’m getting sleepy and i want to have some energy for the party tomorrow.” you add. “it was nice getting to know you tzuyu, you’re perfect for the idiot beside you. night everyone.” chuckling quietly in between responses. 

and with that you’re walking up the stairs to your room, leaving your mom, tzuyu, and dahyun perplexed yet again. 

- 

december 25th, five o’clock pm. 

you're greeting guests, various familiar faces and their parents, family friends, and whoever else you mom managed to fit on the list. 

the party is lively, with people scattered in the backyard and on the little porch while your dad grills his signature bbq meats. your mom laughs with her friends as she sips on her wine, moving her hands around as she talks to emphasize her little life updates. 

in the basement with you are your old high school friends: momo, her cousin mina, jaehyun, mark, johnny, seulgi, sooyoung, jeongyeon, and dahyun, who’s accompanied by tzuyu. the rest of your frineds couldn’t make it, they were probably out of town. all of them sit on the floor or couch with a can of smirnoff or soda, all chatting and laughing over old memories. 

you lean against jaehyun as you laugh, letting yourself hide behind his shoulder while mark ruthlessly brings up each embarrassing phase you’ve had. what a guy, a guy you’ll be figthing soon if he keeps this up. 

the feeling of your phone ringing against your palm as you hold it catches your attention, directing you from the conversation at hand. the screen shows a call from “mom♡” which earns a confused look. you answer the call, cupping the phone so you can hear her better as you answer. 

“hello? did you need something?” 

“hey honey, would you mind coming out for a bit? someone wants to see you.” 

“someone?” you ask, “one of your friends or...?” 

“just come on out sweetie.” she insistts. 

“okay okay, whatever you say.” you respond before ending the call and starting to get up. jaehyun looks up at you with a quirked brow as he sips on his drink. you look back and shrug, “my mom wants me to meet ‘someone,’ probably one of her friends or something. i won’t be long.” you respond to him and let the others know. 

"alright, take your time," jaehyun says with a nod, setting his drink down. "hopefully, it won't be too boring," he adds with a small smirk, teasing you gently. you roll your eyes playfully in response before grabbing your jacket and heading towards the sliding door.  

you were right about the guess on seeing your mom's friend, or—friends. however, the sudden chill you get when seeing the minatozaki’s on the porch makes you tense up.  

they're standing there, glasses of wine in their hands as they look at you. sana's mom has a smile on her face, so does her dad. you walk up to them and try to shake off your nerves, fully hugging sana’s mom and giving sana’s dad a side hug. 

“it’s been a while hasn’t it?” sana’s mom says, putting her hand on your shoulder and grinning. “it’s wonderful to see you again.” 

“likewise.” you respond, melting into relaxation the more you get used to this atmosphere. “how have you all been?” 

after a tense reunion with sana’s parents, they find out about your ambitions and what you’ve been up to. not much is mentioned about the falling out between you and their daughter, but the thought most definitely lingers in the cold, winter air.  

sana's parents tell you about an internship she earned at a hospital her first year, saying they’re proud of her for helping others and the bonus of the nice paycheck that came with the experience. they tell you she’s found herself a guaranteed transfer to your school and that she’s excited to help even more people in the nursing program. it sounds like sana’s a great person, she’s always wanted to help others, it makes you smile and nod as her parents update you on what she’s been up to. 

but there’s this feeling of uncertainty and sorrow brewing. the fact that you have to hear about sana from anyone but her breaks you a bit, knowing that the two of you wouldn’t hesitate to update each other back then. now, it seems like you’re missing a chunk of memories that you could’ve shared with sana. 

“we asked her to come to the party.” mr. minatozaki says, looking at you with a sympathetic smile. “she said she’d consider it.” 

“oh, i see.” you respond, nodding whilst looking at the ground.  

part of you is glad that she’s not here, but who are you kidding, there would never be a time where you’d be dissapointed to catch her near you, despite the paranoia taking over. 

“well, it’s nice to catch up y/n. we've missed you, it’s great to see how well you’re doing. your parents must be proud.” mr. minatozaki concludes, looking at you with admiration. 

“yeah, thanks.” you say, “well, i'll leave you to talk to my parents, but i'll stop by again to talk to you two. it's really nice to catch up, i've missed you guys too, and your wonderful dinners.” you add jokingly, earning a laugh from the couple. 

sana's mom kisses your temple and hugs you, then lets you walk back into the house. 

it seems like this whole night has been full of surprises—scratch that, at this point, everything is a surprise ever since you've been back in town. especially now, because once you step into the kitchen, there’s a familiar woman who’s making your knees weak all over again. 

“y/n, hey.” sana greets softly, smiling at you. 

she's just hung up her scarf on the little hook near the fridge, the same place she’d always hang it back then. there was this unspoken rule that when sana was here, there were certain spaces that belonged to her; the hook near the fridge, the chair at the dining table closest to the living room, the right side of your bed, and the left side of the couch in the basement.  

still, you’re pissed at the fact she had practically cut you off completely over a boy just to come back years later to win you back. it irritated you how easy it was for sana to convince you, but you were much angrier at the thought of her coming back to see you because her and chris didn’t work out. was she serious about the breakup? was that all it took to forget that she had caused so much mental turmoil? 

despite this, her being in your house again and seeing her at this christmas party like years before; everything reminds you of the fact that sana had always lingered in your home. 

“hey, didn’t think you’d make it.” you respond, watching her shrug. 

“my parents said your signature cookies are here, i had to.” 

can't be the only reason, you want to mumble, but your lips stay sealed. 

sana speaks again, “i stole a couple, ate some earlier actually. still as great as i remembered.” 

“thanks.” you mutter, walking over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “did you want to talk about something?” 

“what do you mean?” 

“there’s a reason you came, and i know it’s for me since you’re not in the basement with everyone else. we both know that’s the signature spot.” 

sana cringes at your tone, but gives in. 

“i just wanted to see you, and hopefully talk to you normally.” 

it's taking everything in you to hold your ground, to protect yourself from this sudden appearance that’s making you all uneasy again. you can’t let sana screw you up again with a simple visit, you can’t. 

“i know you’re sorry but sana, you treated me so terribly. do you know how much i cried? how fucking terrible i felt after losing my friend of years to chris?” you seethe, sighing. “part of me wants to start over, maybe try again—but how can i do that when there’s the chance of you throwing away everything, we rebuild over another stupid fucking guy.” 

she looks at you with guilt in her eyes, her shoulders sinking and words jumbling in her throat.  

“y/n, nothing—no one, despite what i've done to you, will ever make me forget how much i love you. there's always a space in my heart for you.” 

you scoff, anger flowing throughout you now, then walk over to her. she stands against the frame of the entrance, you stand in front of her now, looking down slightly. sana's looking at you directly in the eye, you can see the hurt and regret in her eyes; her look brings you back to your senses. 

“how do i know you’re not bluffing? sana, every ounce of me wants to redo this.” your voice cracks slightly, the hurt evident in your tone.  

“you just have to trust me, i'm sorry, i'm really sorry.” 

you feel like curling up into a ball and hiding, the way your chest tightens makes you want to cry a bit. 

- 

the party ends around one in the morning, considering the fact that some of the attendants are adults that don’t have the energy to party until the sunrises.  

jaehyun’s just crossed the line, now slurring his words and laughing stupidly while he gets touchy with the guys, so mark ends up driving him home. johnny catches a ride with seulgi and sooyoung. with them gone, you’re in the basement with momo, mina, dahyun, and tzuyu. all five of you end the night with some recollections of memories, momo’s recent date, mina’s annoying professor, and before you know it you all are hugging goodbye. 

you've already gone through three cans of the smirnoff cans, it hadn’t done much except make you a little more giggly and talkative. you were a little tipsy, that was all. 

throughout the night, tzuyu and dahyun exchange glances, their eyes meeting repeatedly, dahyuns hand rubbing tzuyu’s thigh, and the little smiles they give each other. all of it doesn’t go unnoticed – at least by you – and hints at the potential for something you don’t want to think of in detail once they return home.  

as you observe their subtle interactions, a pang of envy stirs within you, longing for that same allure and anticipation. amidst the swirling emotions, a sense of emptiness creeps in, amplified by the beers you’ve had. you're left to ponder on what’s making you feel hollow, still feeling bad after raising your voice at sana earlier. 

you can’t feel bad, you shouldn’t. whatever you did wasn’t comparable to her practically pretending you didn’t exist for almost two years. 

after rolling your eyes and saying some stupid joke to dahyun and tzuyu – the last to leave the house – you head back to the basement.  

of course, sana had to be sitting on the couch, head turned towards the tv as she sipped on a beer.  

“hey.” you mutter, earning her attention as she turns away from the christmas movie you paused earlier. 

“hi.” sana greets. 

every ounce of anger, irritation, and dread had been squeezed out your body at the sight of her. you genuinely think it’s the alcohol that’s making you rethink everything, making it hard to fight back that voice in your head that’s trying to stay reserved and petty. 

sana sits there, her gaze fixed on you with intensity. her glasses are perched on her nose, a familiar sight whenever she's engrossed in watching tv or anything like that. the sight only adds to her charm, making her look even more adorable. you can't help but notice her favorite cardigan draped over her shoulders – the fluffy, white knit cardigan she adores so much –it's a cherished gift from your mother, and she's held onto it all these years. her eyes bore into yours, drilling into your skull and compelling you to plop down beside her as if nothing had ever transpired between you. you surrender, maybe it’s the late hours of the night, maybe the beer, o rmaybe just sana. 

(it’s probably just sana.) 

she turns back to the movie playing, some stupid romcom jaehyun had put on as background noise. 

your eyes trace the curve of her nose, lingering on her lips and the impeccable contour of her jawline as she remains fixated on the tv screen. her side profile captivates you for a moment, holding you in some sort of spell until she breaks the silence with her soft voice. 

“i think our parents are playing card games in the kitchen.”  

“probably betting money too.” 

“remember when your dad took your christmas money for their game?” sana asks, giggling at the memory. her eyes are still fixed on the screen, you decide to tune into the movie too. “didn’t he lose too?” 

“yeah.” you sigh, sinking into the couch. “he paid me back double the next day though.” 

“so it was worth it?” 

“yeah, i think we went out to eat with that money.” 

sana turns to gaze at you, her eyes tracing the soft contours of your profile in the dimly lit room. the glow from the tv accentuates her favorite features of yours, and she finds herself lost in the sight before her. for a while, she simply stares, allowing the comfortable silence to envelop the moment.  

you turn to look at her now, you two just stare at each other for a while more. 

“maybe we can try again.” you mumble, giving into the beauty in front of you. “every part of me is against the idea.” 

“that’s understandable.” sana agrees. she sighs before adding, “you don’t have to try again.” 

“i know.” you assure, “but i think we should.” 

“i’m sorry.” 

“i know, sana.”  

as the music from the tv fills the room, silence once again settles between you and sana. you know that you can't let this opportunity slip away – it's everything you've wanted, and deep down, you realize it's everything you've needed too.  

there's a mistletoe that’s hung above the two of you, it’s been there the whole time, both of you were aware of it. it dangles from the light tantalizingly, but neither of you do anything about it. neither you or sana even mention it. your mind races to the memory of dahyun and tzuyu kissing each other under it and part of you wants to kiss sana like that, but you won’t let her kiss and make up. 

you reach out, your fingers gently intertwining with hers. you lift her hand to your lips, feeling the warmth of her skin against your own. softly, you press a kiss upon the back of her hand, you linger in the intimacy of the gesture. 

the two of you sit there for a moment, letting the world around you two fade away. 

everything about the moment renders you weak. you think to yourself that maybe, just maybe, a second chance is enough to patch things up. if it’s with sana, then maybe it’s worth it. 

[pacentia]

Title: Forest Lovers

Pairing: (established relationship) slightly dom non-ascended!Astarion x reader WITH VOYEUR GALE

Setting: act 3 beginning, right after shadow cursed lands

Word count: 2,218

Tags: voyeuristic Gale, bloodsucking, vaginal sex, forest sex, pussy eating, L-bombs, body worship, slightly sad Gale

Synopsis: Gale wonders where his Muse (reader) went off to. Stumbles upon her fucking Astarion in the woods 🫠

Author's note: some random ass ideas come into my head in the middle of the night. Couldn't let go of it so I had to write it down lmaoo - please enjoy

It was nice - being out in pure sunlight again after spending God knows how long in the Shadow Cursed Lands. Gale never thought about missing cobblestone streets beneath his feet, the vibrancy of Rivington made him feel alive again. It wasn't his tower in Waterdeep, nor his very own study - cuddling with Tara, but this would do. And, it would all be over soon, according to the pack leader, because she would take the fight to the Elder Brain. 

Gale admired her for quite some time, well - ever since he set eyes on her after stumbling out of that damned broken portal. He had dropped some hints here and there, but she never quite fully indulged him in his desires. She remained so incredibly kind and supportive though - for everyone - during their long journey. 

The vampire Astarion had her heart a thousand times. It's the way she looked at him, and the way the broken man softened in her company that Gale knew these two were soulmates, destined for each other. It felt bittersweet - watching them kiss in public. Hold hands. Embrace each other around the campfire. Of course, if she preferred somebody cold and undead - that was entirely her choice. 

The night before the party would venture forth to Baldur's Gate - Astarion and her were nowhere to be found. Not present in each of their tents, nor in the campsite. Gale felt a little concerned because of that, because tomorrow was a big day and everyone needed a well deserved rest. Who knows what overcame her - the woman he cared for so deeply. And so the wizard cast an invisibility spell and ventured deeper into the nearby forest.

Gentle moonlight cast over the forest and the stars shone bright that night. It was quiet and calm, the two nowhere to be seen nor heard until -

Two completely bared souls entwined in one another, passionately kissed in the middle of the forest, no place left untouched on their bodies. The silver haired vampire and his muse. Gale's muse. 

His jaw went slack from surprise and he suddenly felt greatly inappropriate for stumbling onto this incredibly private moment but… 

Gale just couldn't look away, respectfully, of course. Her body had the likes of a true Goddess - his imagination before had done him so wrong. She was even more beautiful than in his wildest dreams. Astarion was… surprisingly gentle with her. His hold on her was protective and firm but the kisses that he planted on her lips, cheeks and breasts were so soft.

Gale, you damned pervert. He complained to himself, pinching his brow. He could leave now, and forever hold his tongue or he could just… Watch just a few more seconds.

Her fingers wrapped around Astarion's aching hard cock - Hells, the man was big - and started teasing him playfully. The vampire reciprocated - wetted his long, pale digits on his tongue and pleasured her beautiful pussy. Gale swallowed, unaware that he was pitching a huge tent in his purple robes.

"Oh sweet darling…" The vampire moaned in absolute pleasure, burying his head full of untamed silver curls in her neck. She just pulled him into the most amorous embrace as she closed her eyes, lips slightly parted as she felt her vampire's fangs graze her neck. This made her moan in delight - of course - as she was bloodless every damned day.  Her hand gently caressed Cazador's scars on his sculpted back while her other hand worked  his erection. 

"I need you, Astarion." She voiced needily, her feminine hips bucking into the vampire's cold touch. "Need you inside me… Please…" 

Gale swallowed - feeling too hot in his robes right there. He just fantasized he was in Astarion's place, feeling her magic hands work his own cock - making him twitch in the process. Astarion was going to take her right there, on the soft bed of overgrown grass, next to their pile of clothes.

It's as if he had chosen the perfect spot. Astarion had guided her down gently, her legs spread out incredibly wide before her lover. Gale could see the glistening of her folds - how completely drenched she was for her vampire. Delicious, it looked. 

Astarion's hands caressed her perfect body. Breasts, hips. Kissed inside of her thighs - working his way up to her toned calves until her feet. He worshipped her like a real Goddess. As he should. A sweet smile spread across her face as she watched Astarion show how much he desired her. 

"I love you." She confessed sweetly, completely spread in front of him. It's the way her eyes shone with adoration that you could tell she really meaned it. She's completely in love with her vampire. Goodness, Gale never anticipated being hurt by seeing the scenario unfold before his voyeuristic eyes, a sharp tightening in his chest overtaking him. Neverminding his obvious pain, Gale continued watching.

The vampire then lowered his head to her sex, and pressed a soft kiss on her clitoris. Dripping wet, needy for him. "My sweetheart, I love you more than anything." The vampire whispered, kissing her folds again with such careful love. Her hands sunk into his silver curls, letting her head fall back in the grass. Astarion utterly devoured her, nuzzling into her sex, licked her until she was a squirming mess. He suckled on her sensitive bud, gently sinking two of his cold fingers deep inside her. 

Gale just needed to watch this a little closer. So he could really admire her angelic pussy. Study how she liked to be pleasured - learn from… Astarion's seduction. He inched further, so that he watch in detail how Astarion licked and fingered her. 

Astarion's fingers gently dipped in and out of her drenched folds, his tongue swiping back and forth over her clitoris. His sharp fangs were bared, reminding her what he truly was - her vampire. Everyone knew at camp that this excited her incredibly, eager to feel his fangs dig into her neck every night. God's, she was so sinful.

"Star… I'm… close..!" She warned him, one hand tangled in his silver curls, the other one gripping onto the grass soil beside her. Her legs were shaking, hips bucking while Astarion expertly pleasured her. "Then cum, my love. On my lips." The vampire ordered.

What a sight it was to behold, her body coming down from such an incredible high. His name was on her lips like a melody as she shivered in her lover's hold. Gale knew he should leave right now - but then Astarion just climbed over her body, and guided his dripping hard cock inside her drenched pussy. Fuck. He could just. Not. Look. Away. 

"Did you enjoy that, sweet love?" Astarion whispered, sinking as deep as possible into her. He didn't even falter in his speech - Gale would've surely have. 

"Y-yes, my love… God's - forgot how… big you were…" Immediately she enclasped her legs around his waist, the aftershocks of her orgasm begging the vampire to get deeper inside her. Her arms clung around his back, holding his scars ever so gently. Astarion chuckled at her response, "How dare you, darling?" The man smirked. "But you do remember how - good - it felt?" Emphasizing the words with the rhythm of his vigorous hips, the vampire pumped into her unrelentingly, chasing after his own orgasm. 

"Y-yes Astarion - fuck… Your cock feels incredible…You're so big, so powerful, so beautiful…" She gasped, her pretty moans bellowed deep into the forest. Astarion seemed to enjoy her praise, rewarding her with kisses, licks and nuzzles. 

Gale's trousers were completely soaked in his own pleasure - how could he not - watching such a beautiful woman reach her high out in the open. He figured he was too far gone already and sneaked his fingers under his robe - cupping himself - until he decided to take out his own length and stroke himself. He still had to concentrate on casting his invisibility, if he'd fail - he figured he'd just explode his Netherese orb.

"Will you get on your pretty hands and knees for me, sweet darling? I want to feel you as deep as possible, please…" Astarion sighed in pleasure, ragged breath overtaking him when he stopped thrusting. She nodded heavily, just carrying out whatever her vampire needed. God's how devoted she was to him, completely wrapped around his finger. She shifted her body exactly as Astarion asked - and the hungry man immediately mounted her like a horny stallion. 

Certainly, he had read this in one of his lewd novels in his library, but he'd never seen such lust up close, nor experienced it for himself . Mystra never let him.

Astarion growled like a beast, thrusting every inch of him inside her wet cunt. Eventually he pulled her into his lap, pumping up inside of her. She was completely on display for Gale, breasts swinging, Astarion's hands roamed her delicate body, until he swept her hair from beautiful neck, and wrapped his hand around her throat. 

"Darling, your blood smells so delicious tonight…" He moaned, inhaling the scent of her neck, grazing his fangs over previous puncture wounds from his own teeth. 

Gale swallowed, pleasuring his cock faster, harder. He was about to witness him setting his fangs into her - God's, wouldn't that hurt her? She seemed even more eager than before, rubbing herself, arching her neck more - she wanted it desperately. Longing for him to mark her as his.

"Ask me, sweet darling. What do you need?" Astarion teased, his hands digging into her breasts, using them as leverage for his thrusts. "Tell me what you so desperately crave." 

She giggled at his statement, teasing him right back, "Love, aren't you the one who's starved? You crave my blood." 

Astarion's wits seemed to fail him, and buried his face in her neck. "Darling, do not play with me like that… I'm incredibly hungry - Starved, if you will." He continued kissing her neck, dragging his tongue over the pulsing arteries and veins. "You know I'm a very dangerous vampire, and your jugular is right next to me." He teased playfully.

She giggled at his lighthearted intimidation, turned her face to stare into his deep red eyes. "Then bite, Astarion. My blood is yours." 

Nothing the vampire liked hearing more as he continued to pound into her, only now - he latched onto her neck, and buried his fangs deeply. She visibly winced in his hold, obviously in pain as Astarion sucked her blood out. So this is what she's been going through almost every evening since meeting the vampire near the Grove. Gale's cock twitched at the sight before him, close to own climax. All of this was so private, intimate. She willingly surrendered her neck to the vampire with such love.

"God's, s-so… delicious…" Astarion whined in bliss, his hips starting to give out - thrusts becoming erratic. Her body initially freezed against him - until a few gulps of blood later, she started feeling dizzy, two taps onto his thigh stopped his bloodthirsty urges.

Astarion released with a growl, bloody fangs bared, his chin and lips tainted with her hot, red blood. Drunk on her, he lapped up the remnants on her neck, kissing her, holding onto her for dear life. "So f-fucking delicious, darling. I -I'm close." Astarion panted as he grit his teeth like a beast, blood dripping from his chin, his tongue licking the remnants of his chin. 

Nothing had prepared Gale for her desperate pleading. 

"Please, Astarion… Fill my cunt, need your cum deep inside - please, cum!" 

Gale wrapped one hand around his mouth, shutting himself up as he spilled all over the woodland ground, silencing his heavy breath watching their lovemaking end.

Astarion erupted deep inside of her perfect cunt - God's how Gale wished he was the one absolutely filling her to the brim. The vampire growled, pumping her full of his essence, tongue licking the remnants of blood off of her neck. Astarion was a filthy, filthy man - Gale remarked. Well, he had already anticipated that from all of his quirky mannerisms and slick talk.

The couple lay spent on the grass, cuddling in the afterglow of their pleasures, looking up to the stars.

"Need this everyday, Astarion. It's been too long." She whispered, and he rolled over on his side, gently caressing her stomach. 

"Well, we can do it everyday now, darling." The vampire smirked, pressing a small kiss against her cheek. In turn, she wiped a streak of blood off of his chin, and made him suck her finger clean. Astarion indulged her with the greatest pleasure - as long as blood was involved. Gale didn't know why that made his cock stir.

The two cleaned themselves up, and he made notice on how she wiped her cunt with a particular cloth, throwing it away in the bushes - well - wouldn't it be a shame to… let it go uninspected later? They got dressed again in their camp clothes, joked some more and left.

The couple walked hand in hand right past Gale, still invisible of course - until Astarion stopped his footsteps to take in the air.

"What is it lover, did you hear a squirrel you could feed on?" She grinned, to which the vampire playfully poked her.

"Worse, darling. It smells like… Gale here. Well, nevermind." 

Gale had never gone red so badly in his entire life.

[halothanic]

delighted to post my full piece for the colorful beginnings zine, which was made to showcase the vibrance and character of the ace attorney trilogy! my piece is for "rise from the ashes" or the fifth case in the series, which has always been one of my favorites. the significance of the color red throughout is part of it, but the introduction of ema and the forensics are the main reason haha!

the zine is completely free and a PDF can be found here, there are so many nice pieces from equally nice folks, i'm honored to have been a part of this project! i really enjoyed how this one turned out

[markanddebbie-protectionprogram]

comparison and analysis on eve and mark's colors

i know this miggght be me overthinking but i really need to get it out of my system ahahajshajsha

Pink is definitely Eve's signature color, it's the main color of her costume yet somehow you don't see that in her casual attire. As for Mark, no doubt his signature color is blue (even yellow can be included), and that's obvious in both his costume and his casual attire.

this post contains pics from season 1 and the atom eve special, putting a cut here cause this is lowkey long so,,,, oops-

Eve wore pink a LOT when she was a kid, it's in her every outfit throughout all the time skips in the special. When a character has a signature color, it's something that's reflected in (nearly all of) their outfit/s.

So where did the pink go on Eve's casual attire on season 1? Where did she even got the idea of wearing yellow of all colors when it's so far from her favorite color? There's red that when you mix it with white, it gives you pink. So she could have had a red top and white pants in her current casual attire, but that's not the case.

We got our answer on who she got the idea of wearing yellow from in the Atom Eve special: it was from Betsy.

There's a key thing that I noticed from the shade of yellow Betsy wore and what Eve is currently wearing. Betsy's yellow seemed happier. It was more vibrant.

Comparing Betsy's yellow to Eve, Eve's yellow is lighter. It's dull. As if it was drained of its vibrancy. And with what we saw of Eve's past in the special, it checks out that she must've have become so, so tired of so many things.

In animated series, yellow is often associated with warm, happy, and energetic characters. But when it comes to cinematography, yellow represents other things. From the link, I think cowardice is the symbolism of Betsy's yellow - due to her fear of Eve not being "normal" and her inability to accept Eve as she is. And @mandareeboo even pointed out Betsy telling Eve to "try harder" which leads to the symbolism of yellow that I associate with Eve: insecurity. There is no bigger source of insecurity than having your own parent say that to you, especially at a young age when a lot of things feel they're scary and overwhelming that you need a parent to guide you through it but instead they just tell you to repress yourself.

It's no wonder that Eve's yellow looked pale in comparison to past Betsy's yellow, pretending for years must have been exhauasting.

(Before anyone comment that Zak could be the reason Eve wore yellow instead of Betsy, I have an explanation I'm going to be giving later so please bear with me on this one hahahsdfjahsfda)

Now on to Mark!!

In the Atom Eve special, Debbie wore no shades of either blue or green. In fact, her top's color leans more to give a nod to Nolan's signature color (red). That, and their family pictures from season 1 showed that aside from Debbie, there was a time that Mark wore red too.

Compared to Eve and Betsy, I find it so fascinating that the opposite applies for Mark and Debbie.

We can see that kid Mark's shorts and top are currently the colors of Debbie's top and pants.

It was a nice switch to see the mom's colors reflecting her child. You often see the kid copying the color of their parent/s. This doesn't necessarily mean Debbie copied Mark, as a mom, this is her way of commemorating her son.

The two stripes on Mark is a brighter shade of aquamarine while Debbie's top is a darker shade of Caribbean green, and both colors are near to each other in the color spectrum. Which is definitely something we can describe their relationship: they are close to each other.

I always thought that the stripes across Mark's chest was sort of a subtle design thing to show that he keeps his mom, who represents his humanity, close to his heart. Seeing that Debbie got her colors from kid Mark adds a whole new layer to it.

This is the part where I compare the then & the now:

The reason why I mentioned Eve would never have picked up yellow with Zak in mind was that he was just a temporary figure in her life. Eve used to wear pink so much before, it was her favorite - so one can assume that the color itself brought her joy. You see Betsy wearing pink (this is the episode Eve left "home"). So my reasoning for Betsy wearing this color was to appease Eve, while Eve wore yellow to represent her trying to please her mom.

For Debbie and Mark, it was crucial for Debbie to wear the colors Mark wore as a kid. Throughout the series, we see how desperate Mark wanted to be like Nolan, to be good with his powers so he can be a good hero. One would think that Mark would have incorporated red in his outfit, but he didn't. What stood in the place of red in Mark's outfits was yellow, a color that's close to red in the rainbow arrangement. Using the same link for the meanings of the color yellow in cinematography from earlier, Mark's yellow symbolizes two things: naivety and idealization.

See how Mark has a yellow button-up underneath his sweater? It's his naivety about his father, it's not all out there yet it's on all the ends of his sweater as if making sure you know that the yellow is something that should be seen. And Mark's yellow I in his costume? That's idealization. In his eyes, Omni-Man is (probably, I can't speak for Mark 100%) the best hero. He idolizes his dad, there was never a doubt about it. He has put Nolan in such a high standard that there was more yellow in his costume to represent his idealization rather than his own signature blue.

That's why it's so important that Debbie wore his colors from the Atom Eve special in season 1. That Mark sees that on his mom. It was a reminder of kid Mark. That even then, he was just as precious. That he mattered even wayyyy before he had powers. That he mattered because of his humanity.

[inhales deeply to catch my breath] NOW FOR THE FINAL PART!!

i'm sorry this is so long i had so many thoughts about colors, color symbolism in characters is so personal to me.

you guys can skip these pics and list cause this is kinnnnd of a stretch now hahajsdfha - feel free to go straight at the portion after the bullet points end, that's just my final ramblings dedicated for season 2

Back to topic of colors!! It's obvious at this point how relevant both Mark and Eve's moms are when it comes to their colors. So it leaves me with two remaining things about Mark and Eve: (1) the color red on Mark on his casual outfit and (2) the color pink on Eve on her casual outfit

The only moments we saw red on Mark that isn't blood is when he wore his bag. Now I know this is a pretty small thing but that bag could literally be ANY other color - and it isn't, it's specifically red. It could have been white to match his shoes or black to match his hair but it's neither of that. It's red. It's Nolan.

I think it's really important to know the relevance of that red bag, especially in those two pictures. (1) The moment Todd was harassing Amber and Mark wanted to intervene, it's totally obvious that Mark carries the heavy fact that at the moment, he's powerless unlike his dad. And it sucks. Cause he's his father's son and even though he carries his blood, at the time, he doesn't carry Nolan's powers. It doesn't stop him from defending Amber, but it still hurts bothliterally from Todd's hits and emotionally. Mark's carrying the feeling of inadequacy cause he has no idea how to defend himself in this situation, his dad never taught him how to fight because he didn't have powers.

(2) The second picture was Mark rushing to school because his training with his dad made him late for class. He got powers now, and it's literally dragging him from his education (among other things and that's including his relationship with Amber). His power of flight, no matter how fast it is, doesn't get him to places on time. Even when he got his powers, he still had problems. They actually piled up now.

Now as for Eve, sure her casual attire doesn't have any pink on it but her bags are pink!! (1) The first picture of her was when she and Mark met at school. During my first watch, I found it cute that she held on to the straps cause it's a little habit of mine when I wear backpacks. Then at the (2) other picture where she had her luggage out so she can run away from "home", I noticed they're pink too. And it's a small observation but compared to Mark that just lets his bag hang down, Eve holds on to her bags.

The bags are both pink, and pink is her color. It's not a piece or part of her, it's her. Pink has been something she deprived herself to wear but it's something she still wants to keep, even if it's just with bags. It's the thing she's comfortable to carry, it's something she wants to hold in her hands.

I know bags are a practical item for any student to have and I overthought a lot about their bags' colors but yeah hahasdfjasdfha I'm done with that now

CLOSING WORD TIMEEEE HAHAHADSFAHFAHA

man that was a lot, anywayssss

The season 2 poster showed that Debbie has a new outfit. As for Mark and Eve, they're both wearing their hero costumes.

Slight spoilers from the comics: When Nolan left, there was a time that Mark began to dress himself in a style similar to Nolan (I can't tag op for some reason :(().

I feel there's a big chance Mark and Eve will also have new casual attires this coming second season.

Mark is likely to dress similar to Nolan just like in the comics. He will definitely have questions about his identity now that he knew the truth about Nolan, so I think Mark won't be able to wear his usual colors to show that he's figuring things out.

Mark could also wear that blue and black costume, the one that doesn't have the yellow anymore. Because he won't be idolizing his father's heroic persona anymore.

Mark, of course, misses his dad but he won't be looking up to him anymore after what happened.

As for Eve's season 2 casual look though, now that she has her own treehouse and starting to feel free from her parents, I hope she allows herself to incorporate pink in her clothing. She deserves it <33

[adrift-in-thyme]

Febuwhump Day 12: Semiconscious (Warriors & Time)

Ao3

CW for poisoning, vomiting, blood and injury, and a near death experience

————————————

He stopped seeing clearly long ago.

His surroundings are no longer distinctive shapes. No, they are mere colors now, smeared and edged in the glare of lantern light. It is as though someone poured oil out on the street and left it to be trampled.

Warriors stumbles over something substantial and nonexistent. Another wheezing breath tears out of his lungs. Everything tips sideways and he goes with it, tripping over his own feet. He collides with a lamp post, frightens a blurred figure, garners murmurs of “inebriated” and “not right in the mind.”

He doesn’t care. Not much is bothersome, he’s quickly realizing, when you can’t breathe.

Wildly, he glances around. The buildings lean right, then left, their glowing windows seeming to leer at him. The inn…he has to find it. That is where his brothers await, that is where he can get help.

Warriors gulps in air and gains nothing from it. The ground tilts. He goes down, bile rising in his throat. He has already vomited up everything his stomach contained. But his body is desperate, desperate to rid itself of whatever is killing him.

So, it tries again.

He comes up feeling no less dizzy, no less sick. If anything, it is worse now. When he shoves to his feet, his vision goes abruptly dark. For a moment, he is certain that this is it. This is when he collapses, surrendering to the bitter embrace of oblivion. But then it screams back into a mirage of shifting shapes and nauseating shades of vibrancy.

“Captain?”

Warriors blinks rapidly. Someone is standing before him – a woman he thinks. The visible edges of her expression convey worry.

“Are you well?”

He grins and it feels wrong. Lopsided, clumsy, sharp…a grimace more than anything else.

“Not to worry. ‘M fine.”

“Oh.” She frowns now. Or at least, he thinks that she does. Drunk, her silence screams. Irresponsible. “O-oh alright, then. Goodnight to you.”

It’s good a thing, his mind assures him, as Warriors gazes dazedly at her retreating form.

It’s a good thing that they think you’ve drank too much. Better than them knowing. Safer.

…yeah. Safer.

He is certain he’s going to be sick again. His lungs rise and fall, and nothing comes of their efforts. The ground churns like the sea in Wind’s Hyrule. If only it were warm here like it is on that beautiful beach. But no. Here it is icy cold.

He shivers, stops the failure of his equilibrium with a nearby wall.

Just find them. Find…find your brothers.

Darkness tinges his vision again, spreading like an ink blot on cloth. It grows from left to right, and he lists sideways, drifting towards it. Something catches his boot on the way over. He stumbles, fails to catch himself, crashes down in a tangle of long limbs and thick fabric.

“Oh, look what we’ve got here!”

Giant forms move in the borders of his waning sight. Warriors stares up at them, icy heat prickling the back of his neck and head. Everything smells and tastes of iron. Everything hurts.

“It’s the princess’s favorite little errand boy!”

Something flat and harsh connects with his cheek. Warriors’ head snaps sideways. He chokes, coughing blood onto the pavement.

Get up! His instincts screech. Get up and fight!

He ignores them. It’s so easy to do that now. They are usually so loud, so boisterous and unignorable, hardened and loudened by years of experience.

It’s nice to silence them for once.

“He don’t look so good. Looks like somebody already got a hit on ‘im.”

“Poison?”

“Seems like it. He reeks of something rancid and it ain’t whiskey. His breathin’ ain’t right either.”

“Well, then.”

A hand fists in his collar. The next thing he knows, the ground is falling out from beneath him. He hovers somewhere above it, gazing obliviously at the space before him. Something is there – or maybe someone – but he can’t make out their features.

“He’s all lonesome out here. Might as well finish what they started. It’ll be easy.”

He should be afraid. He’s not.

Warriors feels nothing now except pain. Well, pain and the curious sensation of drowning. Strange, he doesn’t remember seeing water anywhere around here. But maybe he’s simply floating in it, unknowing, unseeing. That would certainly explain how cold he is.

His body slams back into the ground, and what little wheezing breaths he had managed to garner abruptly flee. Dull panic slices through the haze for a split second – just long enough for him to grab a wisp of air. Then, it’s back, a fog as thick as the stuff hovering over Time’s Lost Woods.

Unavigatable. Unbeatable.

For once, he can’t win this battle. For once, he has an excuse to succumb.

And he’s not one for giving in – his stubbornness is practically unmatched – but throwing in the proverbial towel now…fills him with relief.

“Go on boys! Gut him!”

The words reach his ears, but he hardly hears them. And he certainly doesn’t comprehend. Everything is so very far away…

It’s odd how without oxygen the world grows soft.

His head flops sideways. Lazily, he blinks into the indistinct expanse of Castle Town. The colors run together more than ever now. He can hardly tell them apart anymore.

Its beautiful, he thinks, with a loopy smile. Like Arty.

The soft shink of deadly metal surrounds him. Pain streaks through his abdomen. He coughs. Blood spills down his chin and drapes his tunic in crimson. It is wonderfully warm.

Again, metal strikes. More blood, more warmth. More pain.

His eyes flutter. There is not much to see now. But darkness is beginning to be replaced with dazzling light.

It is as beautiful as Castle Town…maybe even more. It beckons him, envelops him like a hug.

Come, it whispers, in the voice of his mother, come to me, dear child. Rest.

Somewhere, someone screams.

Warriors smiles and it is a soft, gentle thing. He starts to step forward.

“No!”

Hands grasp his wrist, as small as a child’s yet, much too calloused to be. Warriors dares to glance over his shoulder.

Mask stands there, his green clothing even more vibrant in the world of white. Tears have turned his large blue eyes the color of Warriors’ scarf. His lip trembles, despite the way he has it between his teeth. And while his grip is strong, his expression is a rapidly crumbling wall.

Warriors feels the tug again, the call from the endless light. He needs to go. He wants to. Sweet Hylia, he wants to.

“Sprite…”

“You-you can’t!” Mask shouts, stepping closer. He is shaking, Warriors realizes. The child who has faced monsters larger than himself armed with nothing more than a cocky grin and a slingshot is shaking. “You can’t leave me!”

The tears fall and smudge the markings that have now appeared on his face. Shades of blue and red trickle down his cheeks.

Warriors blinks and suddenly, the child’s hands are drenched in blood. He gasps, stumbling back. But Mask holds on.

“Sprite, I’ve got to go,” he says, desperately, because he must see that he can’t remain here. It’s time…isn’t it?

“No. It’s not.”

Mask ducks his head, as a sob tears at his tiny body. Salty water plunks onto the ground. It sounds like raindrops.

A downpour on a sunny day. A child curled beneath his scarf, grinning mischievously. A beautiful woman laughing, face upturned to the sky.

A tear slides down Warriors’ own cheek.

“Oh, Link…”

“Please,” he croaks, soft now, vulnerable. Broken. “Please, don’t leave.”

A single eye meets Warriors’ two. A face marked by a war god crumples, every year, every battle, every loss written in the tears streaming down it.

The captain moves closer. The light seems to dim now, lessened by the aching in his heart. Time…Time should never look like that. If he could reach him, maybe he could make that pain go away.

Time drags in a trembling breath. Crimson-drenched fingers fist in Warriors’ scarf like he did so often as a child.

“I need you, big brother.”

Warriors take another step and another and another. He can’t stop now. The decision seems plain. Whatever is behind him, wonderful though it may seem, is not yet for him. Not when Time is looking at him as though he is his entire world and then some. Not when he can hear them now — the faint pleas of the other heroes.

His brothers. His family.

He reaches out, fingers brushing Time’s cheek. The hero’s breath hitches as he leans into his touch.

“I’m right here, Sprite,” the captain promises. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

With a sob, Time falls into his arms. Warriors closes his eyes and buries his face in his shoulder. And as they cling to each other, the endless white surrounding them comes crashing down.

[ronsenthal]

As a fellow gifmaker (only not quite as skilled as you are) I've been struggling and your gifs always look so amazing and nice and colourful so I was wondering if you could share some tips on how do you colour tinted scenes like in MoTA? thank you Jess you are amazing 🤗

heey there!!!! First of all sorry for taking so long to reply to this, I was so happy with your nice comments that I wanted to give you a proper insight on how I do it, but unfortunately I'm quite HORRIBLE at explaining things?

I'll put it under the cut because it's gonna be a long post! but if you have any doubts my askbox is always open!!!!

So first of all I already gave some tips on how does my process with coloring gifs work so you can check it on my resources and tips tag

As you said you are also a fellow gifmaker so I'll take it from there as I assume you already know gif 101, but if you are new to this you can again check my tag for some beginners tips

Also want to point out this lovely tutorial by @ajusnice that might be even more helpful, since I learned a lot from it

Disclaimer: i'm colorblind, I can see all the hues, just not all the shades and I tend to struggle with greens, oranges and yellows so apologies for any mistakes or if this turns out looking weird!

HOW TO COLOR TINTED SCENES????

So at this point I hope you already have you gif all cut down to the size that you want and used your fav action/sharpening presets ( I use this or this actions to sharpen my gifs

Now I'll use the footage down bellow as it is really blue tinted and I worked with it for this gifset (MoTA SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!!!!!!) so it looks like this

3. So the first thing I do is work with curse as it gives me a better grasp of what I have and how do I want to go with it. I have been using this method where you go to Curves >> Click on the top right menu >> Auto Options

4. Now a new window thing will open up and then I click on the option Find Dark and Light Colors, as you can see my gif already looks a lot brighter and now so tinted

5. this is how my gif looks like I selected that option

6. still does look a little blue-ish doesn't it? Okay so now I'll go to some adjustment layers, the first thing I do is work with hue/saturation. I'll go to the cyans and blues first and I want to remove some of the blue tint of my scene. I prefer to decrease the saturation of those colors so it looks a bit like this

and my gif looks like this

7. So here is our first problem, while I took away the blues my gif now looks a little dull as the scene was delivered to us in such a different color scheme, It wasn't supposed to look like this so now we need to color correct!! For this I work my way around vibrance/saturation so my menu looks like this

And my gif looks like this

8. Problem #2 because now it looks too blue tinted AGAIN! so I just repeat step 6 again so my menus look like this

and my gif looks like this

9. from now on it's only about some details such as correct the brightness/contrast of the scene and I personally like to use the color balance adjustment layer, I'll leave it all here

10. finally one of my fav adjustment layers -> SELECTIVE COLOR i just mess around until it looks nice to me, I'll leave the configs I used down bellow

Finally after all those steps my gif looks like this

[mayakern]

dammit maya stop trying to murder my bank account. i have a desert sunset from the old manu and i kept thinking about getting one from the new manu bc i love the new fabric so much, but i was on the fence about it bc i kept telling myself "oh i don't need two of the same design, what's the point of that when the first one is still perfectly wearable and nice looking?" then you did this sale. and i saw a review on the site with a picture comparing the old to the new and the difference in the vibrancy of the design. and i caved. why. why do you do this to me.

hehehe well i can’t say this is a bad thing for me, but i’m sorry for causing such woe. and also you’re welcome.

and yeah the printing from the new manu is SO much nicer. not only does it have 3x the printing fidelity (prints at 300dpi instead of 100, which is INSANE i’ve never encountered another fabric printer that could print over 100dpi) but the colors are also so much more vivid.

here is the photo included in the aforementioned review. left is the old manu skirt, right is the new one.

but for me this is even more pronounced in the blues. if you’ve printed anything ever, you know that blues are REALLY hard to print well. unfortunately i don’t have a good side-by-side of this on hand, as the photos of the old whale skirt were taken with a different camera and lighting and were edited differently, but the new printing on the whale skirt is ASTOUNDING.

this photograph, despite being cute, doesn’t even do it justice (i think in part due to the super bright lights we have on set

this is an objectively worse photo but the colors are, i think, more accurate to how the whale skirt looks IRL because it is SO vivid and rich and lovely

[whalesforhands]

settle your sorrow pt.7 (satosugu x reader, implied!shoko x reader)

previous masterlist next

warnings: fluff, angst, learning to settle your sorrow (haha), a bit geto & shoko-centric, i promise more gojo next time

You’re staring at the vending machine. It’s been a good 2 minutes now.

He contemplates for a moment, simply content with watching you, trying to guess the thoughts running through your mind. Just what intricate concepts would you be conjuring in that pretty head of yours? What kind of questions were you asking? Was it the very obvious, sleek new design of that new green tea in the corner? Did your milk change packaging?

“Suguru…” Your head slowly turns to meet the upturned slits that seemed to be studying you with great interest.

“…could you please lend me 50 yen?”

He bursts out laughing.

“Ah, Geto-san! It’s nice running into you here!” Haibara snaps him out of his daydream, a much needed distraction.

“Haibara.” His tired eyes met the vibrancy of his junior. “Were you not meant to be on a mission?”

“Ahh, about that. Still packing and all, ehe.” Yu is still grinning, tongue sticking out at his lack of preparedness.

“But I’m still super excited to go, of course!”

“Let me treat you to something before you leave, then.”

“Ahaha, that isn’t needed at all, senpai!” He pauses momentarily with a sheepish grin, hands held up as if to deny vehemently. “But I’ll take a cola if you’re offering!” Haibara catches the 500 yen coin tossed at him as Suguru flashes him a smile.

“Want anything, senpai?”

Suguru’s gaze begins to settle back onto the floor.

“Is there chocolate milk left in the machine?”

Haibara diligently scans the selection of drinks, eyes trained and zooming in on the familiar drink.

“Yessir!”

“I’ll have that.”

——

“What kind of woman is your type?”

Suguru huffs, sunken eyes and wild hair as he seats himself on bench, a boisterous Haibara next to him.

“I love girls who eat a lot!”

Suguru makes an exasperated expression as he looks towards the energetic second year, mouth falling open in consternation as he listens to Yu answering the question.

“I’m taken.” His elbows are resting on his knees as he slumps over, his answer brief and quick to get… Whatever this situation was over with.

“That so?” Tsukumo Yuki. She sits herself down right next to him, legs spreading out as she leans back against the wall and crosses her arms.

“Geto Suguru, I presume? Heard lots about ya.”

——

Satoru’s treading back with heavy footfalls, holding onto the hands of both the children he had just… Seized.

(Does this count as adoption…?)

“Is this truly what you want for the future of Jujutsu Sorcery as a whole?”

It’s dark. His eyes zeroed in on Suguru’s form, the clearest thing he could see. The brightest in his eyes.

“If it is… Then I don’t know what to do anymore.” His voice breaks a little at the end, hair haphazardly pulled into his bun as inconsolable brown met overwrought blue.

The crowd buries Geto within as he says those words, the passing of the forgettable passerbys disorienting his vision of his beloved. He can’t see them. He can’t see anyone else when he’s right there.

Satoru has been neglecting him as of late, the damned geezers piling mission after mission onto he and his other.

You’re strong, protect the non-sorcerers. You’re strong, fight for the weak. You’re strong, so just go ahead and die in place for them. You’re strong, so just keep being our puppet so that we can put your talents to use for our own gain.

He knows it’s been hard. He knows how Suguru’s been looking. He knows. He knows. He knows.

He knows it just as well after losing you a year ago.

Suguru needs him. Ever since that mission they went on to that accursed village. Now, more than ever, he can’t lose anyone else. He can’t bear it.

That’s why he can’t just let him walk away like that. He lunges forth, his legs pushing him forward, heavy heart and a voiceless despair, pushing through that faceless crowd as he grabs for Geto’s hand, interlocking their fingers together, as his voice finally squeezes out the words he held.

“Don’t just walk away from me!”

Eh?

The duo stare at each other. Gojo pulls a face, corners of his lips pulling downwards as he bares his teeth, eyes squinting when he saw Suguru holding the 2 familiar twins.

Did he anticipate that he was bringing some kids of his own to the school too?

Gojo sighs as he lands his hand on top of a fluffy mass of black, rubbing vigorously as the kid frowns harder, bothered by the white-haired sorcerer’s treatment of his head.

“You damn copycat.” It’s a laugh coupled with exasperation. As if he couldn’t believe it.

Geto doesn’t falter, a stiff chuckle escaping his lips as he watched the way Gojo interacted with the new faces. This was unexpected.

“Watch your language, Satoru. We’re in front of children.” It’s genuine, light and hearty. They really were hopelessly in sync.

“As if they’ll care if they can’t understand anyway!”

Suguru’s eyes glanced between the carbon copy of the Sorcerer Killer and the… non-sorcerer.

“I see you have… Acquired taste, Satoru.”

Gojo’s sunglasses glint from the orange glow of the sunset. He gets what Geto is implying.

The two girls in Suguru’s arms begin to flit their eyes back between everyone.

“Geto-sama,” Mimiko whispers as she tugs on the fabric of Suguru’s shirt. “Who are those that Gojo-sama holding onto?”

The ravenette could only sigh, tucking his arm further up underneath the girls’ knees to better support them as he looks at his partner.

“Trouble.”

Megumi’s eyes stare blankly at the trio ahead of him, before tugging on Gojo’s arm. A silent question. Tsumiki waves at them, a friendly smile on her face as she greets the young twins.

“That’s him, isn’t it?”

Gojo only grins down at the boy as he continues to hold Tsumiki’s hand.

“That’s right, you smart little runt!” He’s now patting the back of the little boy with exceptional strength, watching with glee even as the boy starts to cough from the sheer power in his taps.

“My one and only!”

——

Shoko stares at the 4 children in front of her. 2 almost identical twins are holding each others’ hands, a stuffed animal clutched within one’s grip. Their expression is one of discomfort, of anxiety, but not fear.

Geto has ensured that they’re safe.

The other 2 are a bit more amicable-looking. Well, one of them. The oldest looking one smiles at Shoko as she waves, whilst the younger brother grasps his sibling’s arm, openly furrowing his brows and just… Scrutinizing her.

Shoko pulls out her phone, a betta fish charm in a familiar colourway jingling as she glances at the time.

18:47

“So you both,” Shoko’s eyes flit up to her two classmates. “Destroyed the only table in the loungeroom.” Her fingers press to her forehead, the pensiveness building up as she recalls the recent events.

“Became a public nuisance.”

She drums her fingers against the surface of your desk as she leans back in your chair.

“Then both decided to coincidentally adopt kids at the same time.”

“I got the twins first.”

“We. And he’s the one copying me!”

“I can’t be the one copying you if…” He stops himself, sighing almost exasperatedly as he pulls a look of mock annoyance as he rolls his eyes. “We got the girls firs-“

“Hah?! What’s with that look-?!”

“All that before the day even ends.” She interrupts, palm pressed to her face as she sighs.

Shoko’s contemplating, the botamochi next to her cup of steaming green tea as she watches the twin girls eye her snack from the corner of her eye.

“In front of you, there’s a little cage. How many kittens are inside of it?”

You think momentarily.

“Mmm, about 4?” Your eyes are closed in thought as you tap a finger against your chin. A sudden thought occurs to you. “There are probably more cages with around 3 or 4 kittens inside it right? Since we would be in a shelter?”

Shoko snickers, lollipop stick hanging over her lips as she flipped through the pages. “So you want 4 or more children, huh? In batches too.”

“What?!” Your head snapped to meet hers so quick you swear you could feel something dislodge. “Where’d you get that idea?!” You’re blushing, your hands over your cheeks as you try to calm the creeping heat of embarrassment.

“According to the love psychology book it says so.” She continues to smirk as she flicks through the pages, gracefully leaning away when she spies you peeking over her shoulder to grab at the book.

“Where’d you even get that?!”

“Library.”

Her expression is placid, eyes blank as she twirls a strand of the hair she’s been growing out, holding the bowl of mochi out to the 4 kids, offering them a piece.

“Do as you like.”

——

Graduation is dreary. A simple celebration within the classroom, attended by no one other than the graduates themselves. The crudely drawn banner made by Gojo, the streamers provided by Shoko and the 3 stalks of flowers within a glass vase seated upon your chair is all the decoration that fills the classroom.

It’s silent, for once, as the SSS trio stood at the front of the class, awaiting Yaga’s arrival to commence the event. This place… Had too many memories.

The nervous, quiet sliding of the door breaks it.

“I-I hope I’m not too late…” In his hand, a singular stalk of forget-me-not flowers. Ijichi anxiously treads in, nearly tripping over his own two feet when he saw Gojo’s intense gaze face him.

“Ah, Ijichi.” Geto greets, hand out up to greet the bo-

“Senpai! We’re sorry we’re late!” Haibara bursts in, scratched up and bruised. Bandages covered almost the entirety of Yu’s body as he hobbles in on his crutches as he attempts to wave a greeting, nearly falling over had it not been for Nanami behind him, pulling him back up.

“The mission took way longer than we expected!”

“More like it took the life out of us.” Nanami sighs out, looking stressed, arm in a cast as he assists a struggling Haibara to a nearby seat.

“But we did so good, senpais! Enough time for us to even make it here on time!” He elbows Nanami to the best of his ability. “We even bought those souvenirs!”

A polite knock at the door catches the attention of everyone.

“Please excuse our intrusion.” Kuroi politely bows as she enters, a shy, agitated Riko hiding behind her as she held onto a bouquet.

“Hey.” She’s averting her gaze, trying to act nonchalant as she walks in, failing upon revealing 4 tiny heads trailing right behind her. “I saw them at the entrance… And they just,” She’s huffing as she hugs the bouquet closer. “Followed us in.”

“We assumed that you knew them.” Kuroi smiles at the trio.

The kids, Nanami, Ijichi, Haibara, Riko and Kuroi. Everyone is here to celebrate with them.

The door slides open a final time. Yaga. With Utahime and Mei Mei right behind him.

“What a crowd. I assume that everyone is here?”

——

Riko forces her eyes away as she spots the purposeful space left empty between Suguru and Shoko, the sorrow starting to swell in her heart as she listened to their homeroom teacher congratulate them, finishing off the remnants of his speech.

“I think you should smile more, Riko-cchi.” You stir the teaspoon within the cup as you held onto the saucer. “You look prettier when you do.”

The tears are starting to gather in the corner of her eyes, her clutch on the bouquet growing tighter and tighter.

“Congratulations on your graduation!” She’s yelling it out, jumping onto her feet, tears finally streaming down her face. The first to vocalize her congratulations. Her voice is fraying, snot trailing down her nose as she desperately tries to make the corners of her lips quirk up.

She’ll smile. For you.

“Congratulations!” A chorus of blessings from the small crowd as applause rings out.

Haibara’s clacking his crutches together as Nanami frowns at him, the twins, tugging at Ijichi’s sleeves to come play with them.

Megumi is brooding in the corner with a laughing and cheery Tsumiki as she chats with Yaga. Utahime is sending Shoko her congrats, tears in her eyes as Mei Mei watches nearby. Satoru is interrupting their heartfelt moment, skipping around and poking fun at her.

It’s peaceful, for the first time in a while. Suguru decides he likes this.

“You’re in a flower field, a place which has the most gorgeous flowers you have ever seen, and the owner says you can take as many as you wish to pick. How many do you take?”

“Huh? Another one?!” You’re grimacing as you look towards Shoko, her face planted in the psychology book, eyes glued to the words.

“Just answer it, will you? How embarrassing could it be?”

You huff. Fine.

“Then… I guess I’d take enough to make bouquets for each of you…” Your eyes blank out, counting in your head how many that would take. Yaga, Nanami, Haibara, Utahime… So many. You don’t want to just give them all a bouquet if it’s the most breathtaking sight ever.

“Maybe I’ll bring everyone I love there?”

“Ehhh? So sappy.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it! So…” You fight back your blush, waving off Shoko’s provocation. “What does it mean?”

Shoko grins. “Take a guess.”

“What?” You’re irked, cheeks puffing themselves up into a pout. “Can’t you just tell me?!”

——

“Oji-san.” Megumi tugs on Geto’s uniform shirt, a photoframe held within his hand.

Suguru can feel a vein pop. Surely, he doesn’t look that old, right? His depressive episode may have done a number on him, but there’s no way he could’ve aged that immensely like this brat was implying.

“Now, now. Who are you calling-“

He’s interrupted when Megumi abruptly flips the photo frame to face Suguru, a group photo of all four of you from your first year displayed on it.

The black-haired shaman’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Who is this?” His chubby finger is gliding over the glass above your smiling face. “She wasn’t at the…” He furrows his brows. “Grad-you-eight-shun.”

“She’s…” He catches himself. Takes a moment to breathe. “One of the most wonderful people to exist.” He pats Megumi’s head. “You would’ve definitely liked her if you ever met.”

He sees Megumi raising a brow, as if prodding for more. He’ll stop here. To save himself the sorrow.

“Maybe I’ll tell you when you’re a little older.”

(“What’s with the sudden interest in her anyway?”

Megumi remains silent, eyes still trained on your figure.

“Nothing.”

Kids these days.)

——

“Why do you smile so much?” Riko’s tone is indignant, filled with frustration as she watches your carefree grin, eyes upturned even at her prickliness as you float around with her in your bubble.

She’s sat back against the wall, back pressed against it, arms crossed over her chest as she eyes you, waiting for an answer as you steer your cursed technique towards the ground once you witnessed the duo take down the bounty hunters.

You hum in response, gratified that she’s at least taken to speaking to you after Gojo and Geto’s rather rude introductions.

You descend, before turning and holding your hand out, your cursed technique reforming itself into a staircase-like formation.

“It’s because I’m around the people I love,” From behind her, she could hear the complaints of the energetic student alongside his more lax counterpart as they begin to approach.

You tap her nose when she squeezes your hand, making her blink at you in surprise before she suddenly sneezes. You giggle, a happy glow overtaking your face as she stares, perplexed.

“That I think it’s a waste to not be smiling.”

previous masterlist next

Notes:

It took both Geto and Gojo awhile to learn to love the kids of the man who… Murdered you. But they never blamed it on Megumi or Tsumiki.

In that memory, Geto actually just went up and bought you the milk you were eyeing. It was a new flavour. Chocolate banana.

The number of flowers you picked/give represented how much love you have for the person/people you’re giving them to.

guys i had to rewrite this entire thing like 3 times

[eddiediaaz]

Hi! I was wondering if you had any tips on how to color the flashbacks in the begins episodes, because they have that weird green tint that's so hard to get rid of? Would really appreciate any advice you had! Love all your gifs :)

hellooo! that is really nice of you to say, thank you <3

yeah flashback scenes in 911 can be tricky to color. i don't know why they made the el paso flashbacks look so drab, or the hershey flashbacks so glowy and green lol. anyway, i have two flashback examples on how to go from this:

to this

steps under the cut (:

CURVES

the first thing i always do is usually use a curves layer to white balance the colors automatically. it can be quite handy, but it's usually not enough. it can be a great place to start though. on the top right you can click the 3 lines menu and choose "auto options..."

then you can play around with the different settings in the algorithms section, and the snap neutral midtones. there's usually one that's better, so i just toggle between them and choose which one looks best.

if the auto settings don't work well for your shot, you can always do this manually with the black and white droppers with a curves or levels layer. becca/@yenvengerberg did a great tutorial on it here (in the step one: curves section)

both gifs with curves auto color correction:

as you can see it brings the colors in a more neutral zone and less saturated, but the coloring still needs more editing.

COLOR BALANCE

i used a color balance layer to bring back some warmth into the eddie gif. i started by giving it a bit of red in the shadows, then with midtones and highlights, i simply played with the sliders until i got something i liked (knowing i'll grade the colors more specifically later).

CHANNEL MIXER

for the maddie & buck gif, i wanted to reduce the yellow/green tint. i needed to add some blue to counter the yellow and channel mixer worked better than color balance for this one. this channel mixer tutorial by kate/@aubrey-plaza goes into so much depth, much better than i ever could, but here's how i did it:

SELECTIVE COLOR

my favorite and most used layer! i use it all the time. for the eddie gif, i wanted to make it warmer and less drab. i always start with deepening the blacks, then i want to make sure the skintones are good with the reds and yellows.

then the rest is mostly small adjustments to my liking, especially with cyans, blues, neutrals. this particular gif doesn't have a lot of blue tones so it doesn't change a lot tho haha

selective color results for eddie:

then for the maddie & buck gif, i went pretty much in the same order: blacks, skintones (reds and yellows)

then blues, cyans, neutrals:

maddie & buck selective color results:

FINAL TOUCHES

now that the gifs are color graded, what's left is to add final touches, aka more vibrance, contrast, exposure, etc etc.

for the eddie gif i added these layers

here's the layer order and final result:

for the maddie & buck gif, these are the layers i added:

and the layers order and final result for that one:

that's it, i hope that helps a little!

there's also this great tutorial by ace/@ajusnice on how to color yellow tinted shots, it's a great reference.

[thehardy-boys]

The Platform (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

Hey! Its literally been like forever but I've had some time to myself and actually written something. This was not requested or anything but I just got inspired with all the new content recently. Anyways, pls enjoy. It's a series so there will be more parts to the story.

Warnings: Sadness, negative thoughts, flirting if you squint (In the future -- smut 😏)

Part 1

(y/n) hadn’t planned on ever coming back.

“I’ll put your tea here then mum. Alright?” (y/n) spoke fairly loudly so the elderly woman could hear. She was nearing eighty and she had lost most of her sight and hearing. She was a ghost nearing on a corpse. But there was no one else to look after her. As these kinds of responsibilities usually fall on the women, the daughters, they fell on (y/n) just the same.  

“I’m heading to work. Mrs. Iona will check in on you from time to time, alright?” The bedroom door was almost closed when she heard the slight mumble coming from the shriveled woman.

“Not supposed to be here. Don’t want her here. Take her away.”

She paused only for a moment suddenly hit with a wave of the past. The tide so strong it almost pulled her into its murky depths. But with the door closed and the sight of her mother taken away (y/n) turned her back and softly made her way out of her mother’s house.

She waved to Mrs. Iona as she shut the front gate and walked back down the street towards the main road. Her shoes already collecting the terrible coal dust.

She hated it here. The heavy air that the sunlight could never quite penetrate which resulted in the town being in a constant gloom. It made her skin crawl. The unhappiness was crippling. The drunkards already stumbling around the street at eleven o’clock in the morning, the starving children running back and forth, the haggard mothers one step closer to the grave and the dark alleys that were haunted with glistening knives, illegal pistols, and razor-sharp caps.

Get me out of here. Get me out of here. (y/n) screamed internally but she only pushed open the heavy wooden door of the newspaper agency and kindly greeted Mrs. Kelley the receptionist before making her way to the back of the building and sitting down at her desk. Another day. More editing. That was her lot in life: never to be the one writing and creating but only a ghost in the machine, a minion behind the scenes.

By the end of every long day at the newspaper house the words would blur into one huge muddle. She’d pack up her small bag, wish a good night to her boss Mr. Beavers, and head home. Her eyes would be sore and her brain throbbing with a headache. But that was just Small Heath, barely living.

(y/n) felt that she had something missing. She knew she had it when she was younger because of all her memories. The vibrancy of the trees she climbed, the scent of baking in the kitchen, the damp fur of their pet dogs after a rain storm. Everything was so vivid back then and full. Her eyes open and wanting, now she was shuttered, fragile, and tired. Her knees often ached and her neck sore from hunching over papers all day. She was decaying, slowly.

“(y/n)!” Her head popped up from her desk at the sound of her name. Polly Gray was making her way towards her. She was as formidable as (y/n) remembered. She rose up to return Polly’s hug.

“Mrs. Gray, It’s so nice to see you!” Polly squeezed a bit tighter. The warmth of her body rubbing off onto (y/n). She welcomed it. It had been so long since she had received any kind of touch.

“When the hell did you get back?”

“About a year now.”

“A year!? A whole year and you didn’t bother to drop me a line?” Her outrage wore the mask of humor but (y/n) could tell there was genuine worry, genuine hurt lurking behind it.

(y/n) shook her head in apology, “I know. I know. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting to come back here and then a lot happened and I’ve just been so busy Mrs. Gray. I’m really sorry.”

“No, I know (y/n). I heard what happened. Awful stuff. I had no idea you were here dealing with it all. You should have asked for help.”

(y/n) began to shake her head and ward off Polly’s offer when her boss’s door opened up behind her.

“Ah, Mrs. Gray and Mr. Shelby do come in.” He gestured warmly into his office.

Polly rubbed her arm before stepping inside.

A tall man had been standing behind Polly. (y/n) hadn’t noticed him in the frenzy of the greeting but she didn’t need an introduction. Nobody in Small Heath did. He was just as the ladies described him at the grocers she went to weekly: cold, inscrutable, foreboding, and dangerous.  

(y/n) had lived in Small Heath only until she had turned thirteen and then her family had moved away. Her father had been close to Polly and consequently (y/n), over the years, had played with the young Shelby brothers. (y/n)’s older brother had gotten along well with Arthur and if she concentrated hard enough, she could remember playing hide and seek with Thomas and John Shelby. But it was all so long ago, and she realized she hadn’t seen any of them in over fifteen years. And yet she knew it was Thomas. She knew.

She wondered mildly if he remembered her, “(y/n) (l/n).” That was all he said with a quick nod he passed her by not glancing back and nor did she.

Polly left first and, on her way, reminded (y/n) to drop by. An hour or so later Thomas came out, as well. (y/n) was neck deep in the upcoming Sunday issue so she barely registered the figure standing next to her desk.

“Oh, Mr. Shelby! Did Mr. Beavers ask me to get you any forms?” She pushed away her paper hurriedly and stood up.

He shook his head slowly and continued to stare at her, hands deep in his pockets.

She tilted her head as a question, and he only shrugged slightly.

“I was trying to remember why you left, all those years ago.”

(y/n) sat back down. A flicker of fear coursed through her at the reminder of their family’s departure. A broken window, her father’s bruised face, and her mother’s hands constantly trembling.

“It wasn’t my decision; it was my parents.” She didn’t look up at him and instead pulled her papers back towards her. She didn’t want to sift through all those years. She could barely make it through the present.

He must have sensed the finality because he bid her good day and left but his stare stayed with her all day and even into the night. The frostiness of the blue. The condemnation they held for humanity.

Mr. Beavers explained the next morning that they were starting a partnership with Shelby Limited. They would be expanding their sports column to include more articles on the races. Mr. Beavers excitedly described the hope for a few informative articles on the intricacies of horse racing, training, and breeding. But it wasn’t just about horses Mr. Beavers went on, being attached to Shelby Limited allowed them an easy avenue for new stories and information. It was a ready-made news source.

“All this in exchange for what?” (y/n) asked.

“We give Mr. Shelby’s races publicity and well…occasionally we would publish or not publish certain articles for the company.”

(y/n) crossed her arms, “So they can censor us? What stops them from completely taking over the paper? What if next week they decide they don’t want the Theatre column? Evan and Nate would be out of the job.”

Mr. Beavers frantically shook his head, “It’s not like that, not like that at all. I know Mrs. Gray and I trust her. The company is not interested in that kind of control. I mean we’re only a small agency, (y/n).”

And thus, the partnership began and now not just (y/n) felt the steely stare of Mr. Shelby, but the entirety of the agency did.

It started slowly but Thomas began to come by once or twice a week. It was usually on Tuesdays and Thursdays. (y/n) learned from Mr. Beavers that they were working on a contract. She would here the tell-tale sound of expensive shoes on the marble floor and know even without looking up who it was. Thomas Shelby walked with such authority in his three piece suits all the young ladies at the agency were already gossiping about him during their lunch breaks. But (y/n) kept her distance.

She had always been an outsider in Small Heath. The community never welcomed her family, something to do with their Jewish ties. And now, after returning, people were even more wary. (y/n) could tell there were whispers behind her back. She ignored the fake apologies about the missing invitation when she caught her colleagues out for a bite to eat all together. It didn’t bother her, not really.

“Mr. Shelby, Mr. Beavers will be right out. His previous meeting’s running a bit late. Please sit down if you’d like.” She gestured to the few arm chairs by the window. He only nodded and sat. He lit his cigarette and did what he always seemed to do around her, stare. And she ignored him in favor of the monumental stack of paperwork in front of her.

“How much do they pay you here?” He asked out of the blue. His deep voice easily cutting through her concentration.

She looked over, “Minimum wage.”

“For all that?” He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

(y/n) shrugged.

“You edit, organize, design, and manage each issue and only get minimum wage?”

“I’m not in a position to be picky, Mr. Shelby.” She bristled a bit.

He took another drag and let the smoke column upwards. He did look beautiful with the sunlight streaming in behind him. It caught the contours of his angular face and she thought yeah, I think I get it now.

He cleared his throat and sat back satisfied her attention was now on him, “Don’t you remember me?”

“Yes. I mean we were just kids.” She shrugged lightly.

“We met on the platform.” He took another inhale of his smoke, “After the war.”

(y/n) blinked.

“Yes, we did.” Her throat had gone dry.

He opened his mouth to continue but “(y/n)! I need the consumer reports.” It was Evelyn from the market section. Her plump red lips perking up at the sight of Thomas. (y/n) had the feeling Evelyn already knew he would be here; the reports weren’t needed until the end of the day.

“Yes. Here they are.” (y/n) sifted through her desk and handed over the packet.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Evelyn asked. She played with a few loose strands of her hair.

“Oh. Uh-Mr. Shelby this is Ms. Lowe. Ms. Lowe, Mr. Shelby from Shelby Limited.”

“Ever so pleased to meet you, sir.” She placed a sneaky hand on her hip and shifted her weight a tad to conform her body into an elegant pose.

And she was attractive (y/n) had to admit. She was young and full of vigor. Her hair always done to perfection and makeup never smudged. She looked like a movie star. She looked like a woman all men would fall head over heels for. (y/n) inwardly cringed. She could only imagine what she must look like next to this creature of beauty.

But when (y/n) looked over to see Thomas’ reaction, he seemingly hadn’t stopped looking at her. Only when their eyes met did Thomas glance over at Evelyn and give a slight nod.

“Mr. Shelby! Please come in, come in! I do apologize about the delay!” Mr. Beavers rushed out and hurriedly greeted the businessman.

After the door closed Evelyn let out a huff. She handed back the packet to (y/n).

“I don’t even need these. I just wanted him to get a look if you know what I mean.”

(y/n) gave a small smile hoping to be rid of the superficial woman but she had one last request.

“Put in a few good words for me, will you? He always comes by your desk. Just drop in a few hints?”

(y/n) sighed and re-organized a few papers, “I’ll try my best Evelyn, but I can’t promise anything.”

A few hours later, Evelyn really did come and collect the consumer reports but lucky for her the office door opened and the two men appeared.

“And wonderful (y/n) here will get the correct form for you to sign Mr. Shelby. Let’s organize a convenient day for her to drop the upcoming issue down at your office weekly.”

Evelyn who was too quick easily swooped in without any hesitation, “I can help, Mr. Beavers. You know that I have a much more open schedule than (y/n). I’d be happy to deliver the issue.” She smiled blindingly.

(y/n) just sat there watching the whole thing unfold. In fact, she was actually grateful Evelyn was sticking her nose into it because she didn’t want to see more of Thomas than she already had these past few weeks.

“That is true, Mr. Beavers. Evelyn has a bit more time on her hands these days.”

The boss was beginning to make the face of agreement before, “I’d like Ms. (l/n) to be the one making the deliveries.”

And there was no room for argument with Mr. Shelby.

“Of course, whatever works best for Mr. Shelby. Let’s say every Thursday?” Mr. Beavers heartily clasped the man’s hand and then beckoned Evelyn into his office for a round up on the recent reports. (y/n) didn’t miss the venomous look the other woman shot her.

(y/n) opened her desk drawer and took out the mentioned form that needed the signature.

“Just here, Mr. Shelby.” She held out a pen for him without bothering to look up. This turned out to be a bad idea because she jumped in surprise as he partially leaned over her to sign the paper. He smelled of oak and whisky. He carried the scent of the past.

She remembered seeing his eyes in the sea of green uniforms on the platform. And she knew. She just knew. After all those years. She had walked towards him. He stood there waiting for her. His beautiful blue eyes. That beautiful face.

“(y/n) (l/n).” He had said her name then with such certainty like it was law. Like it had some kind of divine meaning and not just a jumble of letters.

“Is that all?” He asked setting the pen down.

She cleared her throat, “Yes.”

She expected him to be on his way, but she looked up when she never heard the retreating footsteps. He still stood next to her one hand on the back of her chair. Looking down at her.

“Did you not expect me to remember you?”

She clenched her jaw, “Why would I expect you to remember me?”

He furrowed his brow and walked away.

Part 2

[bfpnola]

ID 1: Instagram post by @/therwees. It reads: “I do not envy those of you with the ability to look away, to "log off", to prioritize your "mental health" over bearing witness to genocide. one day you will be in the position to tell someone where you were when all this happened, when an entire people were wiped off the map - what you said, how you reacted, which congress people you called on to help stop it. and you'll have to tell someone - a daughter, a grandson, a niece or nephew, a boyfriend - that you couldn't even look. that you couldn't even give those people the easiest thing you could give them, which is an eyewitness testimony of their pain, their suffering, and the denial of their freedom.” End ID.

ID 2: “here is what you must know, deep down inside of you: that the only way you are to rationalize all this death, all this tragedy, is islamophobia and racism. the only reason you are able to look away is because there is a grotesque part of you, a dead appendage of your soul, that believes brown people are destined to be miserable forever. that we deserve these calamities thrust upon us. It's why so many of you readily shared racist fabrications about baby beheadings, mass rapes, a global day of jihad. you are so ready to accept the image of the angry arab, the evil muslim, the heinous savagery innate to our identity.” End ID.

ID 3: “to be arab or muslim in this country is to be burdened with the task of constantly proving your humanity and your innocence. there is always some awful thing to condemn - a terrorist attack, a corrupt regime on another continent, a preacher's vile sermon. it is psychically_draining to be suspicious of everyone, to wonder *all the time* if your next date is gonna say something islamophobic or if your employer will hold your faith against you or if the man staring at you on the bus is going to erupt with violence. to wonder if simply advocating for the liberation of Palestinians or Iraqis or Afghans will get you fired or ostracized or even just marred with the reputation of a histrionic.” End ID.

ID 4: “and then, when the drum beat of war starts again, and the headlines start to look like guns, and the correspondents start to sound like executioners, it becomes obvious that our anxieties were not unjustified. that some of you do want us dead. that you only like falafel, that you only enjoy vacationing in marrakesh, that if bella hadid said hello to you on the street you'd have a story to tell forever, at every thanksgiving. that we bring color and vibrance to your social circles but only when we're quiet about our heartbreak. that arabic is a beautiful, sophisticated language for a barbaric people.” End ID.

ID 5: “I know, as I've always known, since 9/11, and maybe even before, since I wore the hijab for ten years during the war on terror, since I saw my mother terrorized by our neighbors, that our lives are political fodder. you like us better than we're dead. we've learned nothing from our follies in Iraq, follies that came at the cost of more than half a million Iraqi lives.” End ID.

ID 6: “american life is underwritten by the suffering of others after all. every shein haul, every iPhone, every meal delivery comes at the cost of another person's hardship. I think we really underestimate the psychic toll of this, to enjoy excess and convenience and peace at the price of someone else's despair. it has rotted our souls, to know that every gallon of gas we use steals a moment away from someone else's future, and to continue doing it.

so it is easy for us to look at the Israelis say: they should be able to enjoy their nice tel viv beaches, their lovely kibbutzes built on stolen palestinian land. civilization is built on the graves of barbarians, of people lesser than you. manifest destiny and all that.” End ID.

ID 7: “I am so heartbroken for the palestinian people. I have faith that liberation is possible, but the price they've paid for it is too heavy. it's too too heavy. and now muslims and arabs all across the world will also pay the price. the very least you can do is look.” End ID.

[deepdreamnights]

A friendly wizard and style reference.

Midjourney has just released both the version 6 of its niji anime engine and the first version of its "style reference" tool.

Functionally this is a variation of the image prompting system (explained here), in which breaks a submitted image down into the 'token language' the AI uses internally and uses that as a supplement to a text prompt. "Style Reference" (or 'sref') lets you do this with up to three images, only with only the tokens associated with 'style' being drawn upon.

This is not to be confused with style transfer, a much older and very different AI art process.

But what is a style in this context? And how does it affect generation?

Prompt: a blue axolotl-anthro wizard in a red-and-yellow swirl-pattern robe, holding a sheleighleigh made of purple wood and a potion full of glowing green energy drink. A blue-and-green ladybug familiar stands near his feet, white background, fullbody image

Settings: --niji 6, --style raw --s 50 --seed 1762468963

Here, I've tested the same seed and prompt with a number of reference images.

My semiorganized ramblings under the fold

The first thing I note is that style reference affects the gen so much that same-seed/different style ref comparisons are kind of pointless. Way too much of pose, composition and content changes for it to matter, so for future style ref tests, I'm probably going to drop the seeds.

The second thing I note is that there are certain limitations. You need to change up your prompt for things like photography, and the system interprets styles using its own criteria, not ours. If image prompting misinterprets something, so will style ref, but perhaps not in the same way.

This is notable for the one prompted with a scan from the Nuremberg Chronicle (first row). It recognizes that its a woodcut and emulates that general vibe nicely, but MJ is highly tuned for aesthetics, and emulating real world jank and clumsiness is a weak area. This is literally the first printed (european at least) book with illustrations. Every example thereafter is building on that skillset, so the dataset for woodcuts is going to be largely of a higher apparent quality.

In short, with Midjourney, additional prompt work is needed to replicate the look of early jank or intentionally 'ugly' art styles, and even as recent as v6 I've had no luck with things like midcentury Hanna-Barbereesque cheap TV animation styles or shitty 1990s CGI.

Style reference can help, I've gotten some pretty good cheap 80s-90s TV animation looking stuff from v6 niji and style ref in my early tests:

Color observations: Absent specific requests in the prompt, SREF will stick pretty close to the palette and lighting conditions of the referenced image. With such instructions, you get blending, so the one referencing the okapi fakemon (second row from bottom), for instance, has a lot of colors the reference image doesn't have, but they're in similar in vibrancy and saturation.

One limitation, however, is it doesn't apply to the aspects of the gen that come from any image prompts, so it will always blend the style of the style reference with the style aspects inherited from the image prompt, and that is very strong compared to the style ref.

Using the dog as the image prompt, and the TFTM reformatting as the style prompt, and the text prompt: "a cute older yorkie dog sitting on a bedspread", we get the image on the left. Dropping the image prompt weight to .25 gets us the center option, and removing the image prompt entirely produces the one on the right.

I expect this will be patched eventually, or general image prompting may fall out of favor compared to a combination of style ref and the upcoming character reference option, which will be the same thing, but will only reference the tokens associated with the character in the reference image. Depending on how that works that will have a lot of uses.

Stay tuned for more experiments. There's some good potential for freaky, unexplored aesthetics with combinations of multiple style refs and text prompts.

[roguelov]

morpheus watching you draw intently. morpheus being so proud of your work. morpheus letting you sketch him. morpheus giving you a space in the dreaming to make art. <33

THIS IS ALL I EVER WANT

Dream giving you any and all art supplies, Dream always encouraging you, Dream finding teachers in the Dreaming for you, Dream being the perfect model

“Dream, could you …” You gestures by cocking your head very slightly. Dream mimicked you. You smiled, “Perfect, thanks.”

You quickly returned to your sketch.

Dream’s eyes softened with such adoration. He loved seeing you like this. The way your eyebrows furrowed together in concentration, how your tongue occasionally poked out between your lips, how your face scrunched up to fix a potential mistake only to light up seeing your final product.

He loved you and your hobby.

His little artist.

His castle had not seen such vibrancy since its creation. Paintings filled the hallways of Fiddler’s Green and some residents along with murals which took up hidden corners.

Such wondrous color which brought such inspiration.

“How much long, my dear?” He asked.

Your eyes flickered up. “Oh? Do you need a break?”

You need a break, he thought.

The only downside Dream could ever find was how you neglected yourself during your drawing sessions.

“Perhaps,” he hummed. “Only a minor one.”

“Oh, right, yes of course.” You quickly shut your sketchbook.

Dream smiled. “How about a walk? I’ve become a little restless then perhaps dinner? It has become quite late.”

“Has it?” You peered out a nearby window to see the sun almost touching the horizon. Your eyes widened a little. “Wow, I didn’t know we had been sitting here for so long, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, there is no need to apologize.” He stood up from his chair, strolling over to you. He extended his hand out. “Come, a walk and some food would be a nice refresher.”

You placed your hand in his, leaving your sketchbook on the chair. “Yeah, it would be.”