#verso answers

[grammarpedant]

fun fact: the world of armored core 6 is accurately scaled! people used models from elden ring (which runs on the same engine) and map porting to get an idea of how big everything is in the game. the mechs you pilot are around 10 meters! and its even more obvious how much of corporate hellhole this place is because the elden ring models make it clear that getting around on foot is impossible! the most hostile architecture known to man!

anon, i want you to know that sometime between you sending this ask and me receiving it I caved and watched a playthrough of Armored Core 6: Fires of Rubicon and this fun fact was in the back of my head in between me predictably going Wow Cool Robot. it's like car-centered city planning but scaled up! god i love it when the robot fiction is also about how capitalism is bad. thank you for bearing news of the hostile corporate architecture of armored core, anon, and I hope you know I'm Obsessed with AC now <3

[chaosworthy]

➤ Numbered Facts | Accepting

↳ @familylightfox​ asked: 02:  A memory from your character’s teenage years

                                                            —————

      {➹} – BLURRY WAS SOMETHING he was growing accustomed to. In the mornings (afternoon?) things always were, making it impossible for him to discern where he was for a few minutes as glassy, dry eyes stared at nothing while he lay on his side. It wasn't just his sight either, try as he did as he laid there the hedgehog couldn't recall how he had gotten there; his memory shot.

     The ground under him was cool, the faint echoing around him being the telltale that told him he had, once again, ended up in the bathroom. Perfect...

     How long he stayed there, he didn't know. Minutes, hours...something in between. It didn't matter. It never did. It wasn't until his stomach lurched, protesting the lack of solid food and solely ethanol that he bullied his body upright, then proceeded to thank whatever set of circumstances that had dropped him there as he lost what little contents it had in the nearby toilet. His head throbbed, his throat burned and everything else ached.

     For a while he remained there, kneeling in a position and state far too familiar, wondering how long he could stay there before someone noticed he hadn't left for the day. What time was it anyway...? Too far into the day to go back to bed, he imagined, and with the realization came a groan, hoarse and exhausted. 

     It was brute force and pure determination that the hero used to wrestle his body to its feet, far from a graceful maneuver but enough to at least get him to the sink. Where he wasted little time turning on the water to get the taste of sick out of his mouth, and a few more gulps just for something in his stomach. All before catching a glance in the mirror.

      Pale fur, bleary eyes...the usual. They didn’t change, hadn’t for months. Yet no one asked about them, everyone acted like nothing was wrong. And he followed suit. It was time to get ready, to clean up and put on airs. After he set to other things; he was already feeling chilly. Then it was stick to routine until the sun set, the same mantra repeating in his head as he set about the flat with slow steps.

          Rise and repeat.                    Rise and repeat.

[blue-bird-lamentation]

Olá, td bem? (não sei: cê é brasileira o portuguesa? kkk)

Language asks:

☾ (favourite word from your language?) and ☯ (what do you love about your language?)

(reply in Portuguese)

Oi!! (Sou portuguesa)

Obrigada pela ask ^^

Palavra favorita: Sinceramente nem sei bem, mas para não escolher a palavra 'saudade' tantas vezes repetida, talvez diga 'ignomínia'. Porquê? Porque a descobri no filme Amor de Perdição (adaptação do livro com o mesmo nome) e nunca mais a esqueci.

O que gosto na minha língua: devo admitir que nem sempre gosto como as coisas soam (e no que toca a insultos parece que soa sempre pior em português 🤣), no entanto, gosto de ler em português, gosto da escrita de alguns autores portugueses (gosto, por exemplo, de ler Saramago e ainda tenho curiosidade em ver como são as traduções porque quando leio na escrita original parece sempre muito único), gosto de ler textos bem escritos em português. Gosto do fado, que é tão tipicamente português, as palavras encaixam tão bem. Também gosto de ouvir o português do Brasil nalgumas canções, é muito agradável e não consigo ver a soar da mesma forma noutra língua (não menosprezando as outras, claro).

Outra coisa que possa gostar talvez seja a variedade de sons? (os lh, ch, nh, ão, ãe, etc). Não sei se é essa variedade que facilita a aprendizagem de outras línguas, como dizem, porque na verdade, outro dos fatores para nos habituarmos às mesmas é o facto de não termos muito a cultura de dobragens aqui em Portugal, pelo que a maioria das coisas que vemos, vindas do estrangeiro, ouvimos na língua original, mas é interessante pensar nisso 🤣

Mas basicamente gosto de ler e ouvir a língua portuguesa no contexto de alguma literatura (assim textos bonitos, ou histórias tipicamente portuguesas) e de música tipicamente portuguesa.

[underdark-dreams]

Can you please talk about your writing! how you write and revise and where you get your inspiration you are just so amazing! I could use some tips to get my writing to the next level. maybe some fic recs you find inspiring as well? only if you want too.

I sat on this ask for a while to mull it over, so thanks for your patience! I can definitely talk about my general process and link some fics that have inspired me.

I've also answered some other asks about writing process and technique. You can read those here if you like:

Emotional and feelings-focused writing

Writing descriptively

Fic writing: general process

First, it's good to have your opening and your ending in mind before you start. Even if it's just:

OC walks into Sorcerous Sundries

Rolan and OC fall asleep together

If you have the bookends, it's a lot easier to find the story's beats in the middle. (Or decide that you can't find the path from A to B after all & need to change one of them around)

Once I have those two down, I usually write out the main beats of the story next. These will be the parts that excite you most as a writer!! Like, they make you giddy to write about! Getting these down on paper has ALWAYS given me a burst of momentum to get through the drier/connecting bits.

So I encourage you to write out the story events/scenes that make you most excited first. Exposition will come later! Don't worry about 'setting things up' right now, unless you really want to start there. Remember that your first draft only has to make sense to you.

Inspiration

Damn if I could bottle the answer to this one, I'd be set for life! lmao

A lot of people start writing first and find the inspiration along the way. It's a valid and effective method!

I usually wait for ideas to come to me first, and they usually come when I'm totally disconnected from my writing computer. I swear, my strongest ideas for a fic setup or interesting scene always come when I'm at work or vacuuming or some crap

Best advice I can give is to keep a notes app on your phone or something similar. Rotate your characters around in your mind while you're doing other random life things, and good ideas will usually come to you. Jot down the framework or some dialogue or whatever strikes you before you forget it, then revisit it when you have more time.

Revising and editing

I'm one of those writers who edits a ton as they go, instead of drafting out a story and revising in one go. So this part is kind of difficult for me to answer...the two processes are unfortunately so interconnected in my head!

The main thing is to make sure you give yourself a few days between writing and doing your final edit. Even if you've been revising along the way, taking some time away from your fic lets you gain a fresh perspective.

I will admit, I also keep thesaurus.com open in a tab at all times. Like. I am addicted to finding just the right word

As with all of the above, your mileage may vary! The right technique is the one that gets you writing and creating. 💯

Fic Recs

Here's a list from back in December! Still in love with all of these!

Also:

Deeply and Immovably So by Cometra / @dutifullylazybread - Absolutely required reading for any Rolan x Tav fans! Tav is AFAB/she/her. Darcy's worldbuilding and imagery is incredible, very deep and meaningful. Just all-around excellence!

verso by aes3plex - Zevlor x m!Tav oneshot. This story like...made me understand who Zevlor was as a character. I don't know how else to describe it. Really wonderful backstory threaded through a present-day encounter with some of the best prose ever. Love!

But I will admit, I grew up reading Trek fics, and those stories and writers have stayed with me longer than anything else. I think old fandom + huge universe + writers with sheer decades of experience in fanon have a lot to do with the quality of writing there. Not relevant to BG3 but has definitely shaped how I write today!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Open Circuits

I'm kickstarting the audiobook for "The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation," a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and make a new, good internet that picks up where the old, good internet left off. It's a DRM-free book, which means Audible won't carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

Every trip to Defcon – the massive annual hacker-con in Las Vegas – is a delight. Partly it's the familiar – seeing old friends, getting updates on hacks of years gone by. But mostly, it's the surprises, the things you never anticipated. Defcon never fails to surprise.

I got back from Vegas yesterday and I've just unpacking my suitcase, and with it, the tangible evidence of Defcon's cave of wonders. My gear bag has a new essential: Hak5's malicious cable detector, a little USB gizmo that lights up if it detects surreptitious malicious activity, even as it interdicts those nasty payloads:

https://shop.hak5.org/collections/omg-row2/products/malicious-cable-detector-by-o-mg

(In case you're wondering if it's really possible to craft a malicious USB cable that injects badware into your computer and is visually indistinguishable from a regular cable, the answer is a resounding yes, and of course, Hak5 sells those cables, with a variety of USB tips:)

https://shop.hak5.org/collections/omg-row2/products/omg-cable

But merch is only a sideshow. The real action is in the conference rooms, where hackers update you on the pursuit of their obsessions. These are such beautiful weirdos who pursue knowledge to ridiculous extremes, untangling gnarly hairballs just to follow a thread to its origin point.

For the second year in a row, I caught a presentation from Joseph Gabay about his work on warshopping: slicing up shopping cart wheels and haunting shopping mall parking lots during resurfacing to figure out how the anti-theft mechanism that stops your cart from leaving the parking lot works:

https://www.begaydocrime.com/

And of course, I got to give one of those presentations, "An Audacious Plan to Halt the Internet's Enshittification," to a packed house. What a thrill! It was livestreamed, and if you missed it, you'll be able to catch it on Defcon's Youtube page as soon as they upload it (they've got a lot of uploading to do!):

https://www.youtube.com/@DEFCONConference/videos

After my talk, I went back to the No Starch Press booth for a book signing – which was amazing, so many beautiful hackers, plus I got to share a signing table with Micah Lee. As I was leaving, Bill Pollock slipped me a giant hardcover art-book, and said, "You're gonna love this."

I did. The book is Open Circuits: The Inner Beauty of Electronic Components, by Windell Oskay and Eric Schlaepfer, and it is a drop-dead gorgeous collection of photos of electronic components, painstakingly cross-sectioned and polished:

The photos illustrate layperson-friendly explanations of what each component does, how it is constructed, and why. Perhaps you've pondered a circuit board and wondered about the colorful, candy-shaped components soldered to it. It's natural to assume that these are indivisible, abstract functional units, a thing that is best understood as a reliable and deterministic brick that can be used to construct a specific kind of wall.

But peering inside these sealed packages reveals another world, a miniature land where things get simpler – and more complex. Inside these blobs of resin are snips of wire, plugs of wax, simple screws, fine sheets of metal in stacks, wafers of plain ceramic, springs and screws.

Truly, quantity has a quality all its own. Miniaturize these assemblies and produce them at unimaginable scale and the simple, legible components turn into mystical black boxes that only the most dedicated study can reveal. Like every magician's trick, the unfathomable effect is built up through the precise repetition of something very simple.

A prolonged study of Open Circuits reveals something important about the hacker aesthetic, a collection of graphic design, fashion and industrial design conventions that begins with this realization: that the crisp lines of digital logic can be decomposed into blobby, probabilistic lumps of metal, plastic, and even wax.

It reminds me of George Dyson's brilliant memoir/history of computing, Turing's Cathedral, where he describes how he and the other children of the scientists building the first digital computers at the Princeton Institute spent their summers in the basement, hand-winding cores for the early colossi their parents were building on the floors above them:

https://memex.craphound.com/2012/03/12/george-dysons-history-of-the-computer-turings-cathedral/

You can see my hacker aesthetic photos in my Defcon 31 photo set:

https://www.flickr.com/search/?sort=date-taken-desc&safe_search=1&tags=defcon31&user_id=37996580417%40N01&view_all=1

In this video, Eric Schlaepfer illustrates the painstaking work that went into decomposing these tiny, precise components into their messy, analog subcomponents. It's pure hacker aesthetic, and it's mesmerizing:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=byKyJ0b04Lo

But Open Circuits isn't just an aesthetic journey, it's a technical one. After all, Oskay is co-founder of Evil Mad Scientist Labs, one of the defining places where hardware hackers gather to tear down, pick apart, mod, improve and destroy electronics. The accompanying text is a masterclass in the simple machines that combine together to make complex assemblies:

https://www.evilmadscientist.com/

Defcon is a reminder that the world only seems hermetically sealed and legible to authorized parties with clearance to crack open the box. From shopping cart wheels to thermal fuses, that illegibility is only a few millimeters thick. Sand away the glossy outer layer and you will find yourself in a weird land of wax-blobs, rough approximations, expedient choices and endless opportunities for delight and terror, mischief and care.

Back my anti-enshittification Kickstarter here!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/14/hidden-worlds/#making-the-invisible-visible-and-beautiful

[forjongseong]

mon soleil // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: secretary!jay x CEO!fem!reader (part 10 of the series)

genre: office!au, fluff, smut (minors dni) // warning: older reader; Jay calls reader “Boss”; cockwarming; unprotected sex; oral sex; semi-public sex; mentions of marriage // wc: ~10.7k

previous chapters:

part 1 - carmesí part 2 - mi reina part 3 - millones part 3.5 - hasta los dientes part 4 - vente conmigo part 5 - tusa part 5.5 - apaga y vámonos part 6 - versos de placer minisode part 1 - cuando nadie ve part 6.5 - yo te quiero más minisode part 2 -la niña de mis ojos part 7 - aeropuerto minisode part 3 - falling autumn minisode part 4 - night night part 8 - ambulancia minisode part 5 - subtítulos part 9 - al caer la noche minisode part 6 - after last night part 9.5 - the way you look tonight

next chapters:

click here for the masterlist

summary: you're enjoying life with your boyfriend/secretary, and you're beginning to grow closer to his parents. perfect timing, though, since he seems to have something up his sleeve.

author’s notes: welcome to part 10! and sorry for the delay.

I never measure how fast I finish writing a part, but I know for sure that this one took me longer than any other part I have written. Maybe because I was trying to see from Jay's perspective, and I kept changing how I plan to make him... Wait... I don't want to spoil it for you. You'll see in the end!

the song for this episode is one of my faves, Mon Soleil from the series Emily in Paris. pretty sure it translates to "my sun".

taglist: @jaylaxies @jayked @thots4hee @end-hyphen @nyanggk @yoursjaeyun @maggstar @bucketofhiros @dimplejaehyuncutie

(send an ask if you want to be added)

Weekends were your favorite time of the week, mostly because you get to detach from work and have some time to yourself. For your assistant slash boyfriend, however, weekends do not seem to be any different from weekdays. Jay would take any spare time he had left into doing work, either to catch up on the previous week or to prepare in advance for the next. When this happens, you would find Jay perched on your desk that faces the window, and most of the time it would be hard to get his attention once he was already focused.

You spent the day cleaning up and organizing your bedroom, and once you were done you took a quick cold shower and put on the daintiest night gown you have ever seen in your life. It was purple with a greyish hue, with ruffles attached to the straps, and an a-line cut that would flatter anyone’s body, complete with the mesh details on both sides of the skirt in place of a cheeky slit. You remembered buying it randomly when you were online shopping, and you did wash it, but you never really got to wear it since you did not really have an occasion for it.

But now you do.

Your slippers muffled the noise of your footsteps as you made your way to your desk. Jay was focused on the screen, scrolling the mouse with one hand and typing with another. He stopped to push back the pair of rimless glasses that were sliding off the bridge of his nose, and with a deep breath he started typing again.

“Is that last week’s work or next week’s?” You asked, standing behind the chair and placing your arms on the headrest.

“Next week, Boss,” he answered without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Take a break,” you said, starting to run your fingers through his hair, brushing it back.

Jay chuckled softly. “I just started, not even an hour ago.”

“How long will it take?” You asked again, this time leaning in and resting your chin on the top of his head. You brought your hand down to his shoulders and he gave it a squeeze of reassurance.

Jay hummed as he glanced blankly out the window. “At least another hour, I think. Why?”

“I’m bored,” you stated. You waited for Jay to stop typing before swiveling his chair and making him face you. You didn’t know if his flustered face was because of the sudden movement or because you were wearing a night gown that he had never seen before.

“Oh, wow,” Jay muttered, fixing his glasses in place again. “Is that new?”

“Never worn before,” you said with a pout. “I want attention.”

Jay smiled at you fondly. “I really have to get this out of the way, baby. Give me fifty minutes?”

You continued to pout and stare blankly at the screen before coming up with an idea. “Can I just sit with you?”

“You mean on my lap?” Jay asked to confirm. When you nodded, he nodded too and swiveled his chair back to face the computer. “Hop on.”

With a small smile, you secured your place on Jay’s lap with your back facing the computer. You chose that position so you could rest your head on his shoulder and nuzzle into the crook of his neck. You were both lucky that the chair was big enough and comfortable enough to host you both.

After gently rubbing your back a couple of times, Jay got comfortable and started typing again. You closed your eyes and let your nose touch his neck. You could smell the faint scent of cologne that he put on this morning, already mixed with his natural odor that you liked too. You shifted a bit, and it made Jay freeze for a second before he continued to work.

When he was rereading what he had typed, he made sure his hands continued to be occupied by either caressing your arm or brushing your hair. You snuggled even closer, snaking your arm around his waist and eliciting a soft laugh from his lips. He felt warm under you, and you tried to be as silent as possible even though your mind was racing.

“Why the glasses?” You asked with a squeak, your voice leaving you from being silent for too long.

Jay kissed your forehead before giving you an answer. “It filters the bluelight, darling.”

“No, I mean,” you muttered, bringing your head up to look at him. You caressed his cheek before observing him closely. “Why rimless?”

“Does it look bad on me?”

“It looks great on you, that’s the problem. It makes you look older.”

Jay’s eyes squinted at you before he chuckled again. “Thank you?”

You hummed and rested your head on his shoulder again, but this time you changed sides. Jay continued to stroke your back in between typing, and he could feel your breath becoming heavier with each touch.

“You okay there?” He whispered.

The vibrations of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and for some reason you couldn’t respond with words. You nodded and placed a chaste kiss on his neck, and you noticed how his breath hitched. Licking your lips, you continued to kiss him where his skin was closest to your lips—his neck, his collarbone, up to his jawline too. The moment you feel him shift under you, you knew you were about to get what you came for.

“Baby,” Jay sighed. “You’re making me hard.”

“Hmm.” You continued to kiss his neck, making sloppy noises on purpose. “That is my intention.”

Jay let out a shaky laugh. “I still would like to get this done, my love.”

“You’re good at multitasking, aren’t you?” You challenged him, pushing yourself away from his shoulder. You rested both your hands on his shoulders before moving one to brush his hair out of his face. He closed his eyes when you touched him, and you leaned in carefully to kiss his lips.

“Sit on my cock?” He asked, his lips grazing yours.

“I’m glad you asked,” you replied, smiling when you saw him smirk at you.

Jay squeezed your waist to make you lift your hips for a bit while he tugged his joggers and boxers down. You bit your bottom lip at the sight of his cock fully erect, and as he slid his hands under your gown, you couldn’t help but smile.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? No panties,” Jay whispered again, and you just chuckled softly as a response.

“I’ve wanted to try this,” you spoke, your sentence halted in the middle as you feel him entering you, “…for a while.”

“You sure you can sit still while I finish work?” Jay asked as he caressed your arm lovingly. You were still wondering how he could still act so angelic while he was fully inside you.

You nodded. “Are you?” You asked back, grinding your hips once as a test.

Jay groaned and threw his head back while you giggled. He cleared his throat and gripped your hips before speaking right into your ear.

“Be a good girl and stay still. I’ll reward you later.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Jay rolled his eyes back at the way you addressed him, and you smiled triumphantly as you nestled your head back on his shoulder. It was fairly easy for you, since by default you did have great self-control. Whenever Jay shifted in his seat, causing his cock to graze your insides, you would whimper once before composing yourself again.

On the other hand, Jay was trying his best to stay focused. The scent of your shampoo and the way your hot breath kept tickling his neck almost made him want to give up working right then and there. He tried brushing it off by clearing his throat, but it was not helping since you could literally feel his dick twitch inside of you.

You were resting on him comfortably, like a koala hugging a tree, and to cure yourself of boredom you would occasionally reach out to his face, caressing his cheek or brushing his hair back. He responded by hugging you with one arm, squeezing your waist before he redirects his focus back to the screen. After what felt like an eternity, Jay sighed as he made a couple of clicks with the mouse and finally closing all the windows.

“Are you done?” You asked innocently, lifting your head up to look at the screen.

Jay took off his glasses in a flash before grabbing your chin and smashing his lips into yours, causing you to yelp into his mouth. The movement was simultaneous with the way he thrusted his hip up, and all you could do was release a loud moan. His arms were still wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly on his lap while you both continued to eat each other’s face off.

You started grinding into him and he groaned, his hands finding the straps of your gown and pulling them down to reveal your breasts. He squeezed them both before diving into you, latching his mouth to your nipple like it was the most natural thing to do. Your moans filled the room, and your fingers were now lost and tangled in his hair.

“Bed,” he whispered on your skin. “Now.”

You stood up and reluctantly let him slide out of you. His cock was tainted with your juices and mixed with his precum. As you swiftly made your way to the bedroom, Jay pulled your wrist from behind you and turned you around before lifting you up against the wall. He slid into you with ease, and you moaned in pleasure as he started fucking you.

With your legs wrapped securely around his waist, and your night gown already halfway falling down your torso, you grasped onto his shoulders for life as he continued his sharp thrusts into you. He was moaning as much as you were, and you were desperate to feel more of his touch. Lucky for you, he seemed to sense it and quickly carried you all the way to your shared bed. He slipped out of you only to take his shirt and pants off, and he did not even give you a chance to undress completely before he entered you again.

Jay made love to you slow and sweet, peppering kisses all over your face and swallowing your moans when they got too loud. You felt the heat of his skin against your breasts, and your hands traveled down to his ass to push him even deeper inside of you. His lips never left yours, not even when you mumbled that you were close. Your walls clenched around him as you chanted his name, and after he helped you ride out your high, he pulled out and cummed on the skirt of your night gown.

You were both panting when you were done, and after a few seconds Jay collapsed beside you. You craned your neck to see how much he tainted your gown, and when you turned your head to look at him, all he gave you was a cheeky grin.

“Do you have any more of these that I can ruin?” Jay asked, his fingers lifting the hem of your night gown.

He wasn’t aware that you would literally buy a thousand more night gowns just to get him to fuck you like that again.

---

For the last couple of days, Jay had insisted to leave for work hours before you, claiming that you needed the extra time to sleep and get ready while he makes sure all is well at the office. You thought it was sweet of him, although completely necessary since you did think you were handling your job well without the luxury of being given extra time.

Settling on the thought that Jay was just a sweetheart for doing so, you walked out of your bedroom fully dressed and ready to go. When you walked to the kitchen to grab your bottle of water, you realized there was a message on the touchscreen of your refrigerator’s door.

Don’t forget your water bottle, and the bowl of acai that I made for you in the fridge. Finish it.

-J

“So bossy,” you commented to yourself as you opened the fridge, finding exactly what the note says.

As you spent the next seven minutes downing your breakfast, you remembered the countless times Jay had spoiled you with his acts of service, from preparing breakfast for you to mopping the floors of your house. After a silent minute, you cleaned up after yourself, grabbed your phone and your bag and walked out the front door.

You got into your car as soon as it pulled up, and as you greeted Mr. Lee, he handed you an iPad that Jay left for you. You checked your schedule and the notes for an upcoming meeting, and while doing so you couldn’t help but notice Mr. Lee eyeing you through the rearview mirror.

“What seems to be the problem, Mr. Lee?” You asked, putting your iPad aside.

“Oh, Miss,” Mr. Lee replied, “I just wanted to ask if it’s possible for me to have a week off. I wonder if the young Mr. Lee could take over for a while.”

“Of course. But what’s going on? Is everything okay?” You leaned into the front seat and even poked your head to Mr. Lee’s side, earning a small chuckle from him.

“My daughter is giving birth,” Mr. Lee answered. He sounded so happy, and you could see the crinkles in the corner of his eyes. “I’m about to become a grandfather.”

Your response was a mixture of squealing, screeching, and a little bit of arm-hitting, while Mr. Lee was just trying his best to drive safely.

“Congratulations!” You said after finally able to form words. “Take two weeks off if you’d like. I’m sure Heeseung can manage. Even if he couldn’t, I can just have Jay drive. I’m so happy for you, Mr. Lee!”

At a red light, Mr. Lee turned to look at you and you reached out to squeeze his hand. Mr. Lee had been a loyal driver, and after having taken care of you for so long, it was only normal that his happiness would be yours too.

---

You were so focused on reading the document in your hand that when you swiveled your chair to face your desk, you almost slid off it out of surprise. Jay was standing in front of you, beaming for whatever reason, with his iPad open in his hand.

“Since when do you have cat feet?” You commented as you placed a hand over your chest, still recovering from the shock.

“I knocked. Didn’t you hear?” Jay pointed his thumb to the door as you shook your head. “Anyway, results are in.”

“The top 10 candidates for the scholarship? Give it to me.”

You almost threw your pen on your desk before eagerly reaching out your hand to Jay. Jay slid the iPad into your hand and pulled the chair beside him to sit across you. You were mumbling the names of your employees as you scrolled down the list, and Jay was observing you closely. When you got to the bottom, your fingers froze, and Jay’s smile grew wider.

“Heeseung,” you muttered, almost in disbelief. “He’s shortlisted.”

“Don’t worry, I doublechecked already. That list is legit. Heeseung is actually qualified. Must be interesting though, since they all have to go through the interview process. You will be overseeing that, right?”

Jay’s endless comment did not seem to bother you as you were busy collecting your thoughts. For some reason, your thoughts snowballed into the far future—what if Heeseung goes abroad? Who is going to be your second driver? What if Mr. Lee decides to retire? Will you even have a driver?

“Boss?”

You blinked twice before focusing on Jay. He was now looking at you worried.

“Don’t zone out like that, you’re scaring me,” Jay sighed. “Is everything okay?”

You nodded. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“We shouldn’t tell him, right? Like, let’s not get his hopes up,” Jay said after clearing his throat. “I’ll start looking for a new driver just in case.”

It was like he read your mind.

“Right. Thank you,” you replied, giving back his iPad.

Jay cocked his head as he observed you getting back to work and picking up the document you were reviewing. He noticed that you were frowning a little too much, and that for some reason you seemed tense. You reached for your pen that rolled off too far from you, so Jay leaned in and pushed it back into your hand.

“Boss,” he started, “I can handle the meeting at 4. You should get off early.”

“Why would I do that?” You asked, not taking your eyes off your document.

“Because it’s time to redo your nails,” Jay answered, tilting his chin towards your fingers. “You never miss a schedule for a new manicure.”

All the attention to detail made you sigh, and now Jay was the one feeling tense. You pushed your chair away from your desk after freeing your hands, and then walked towards your secretary. Out of reflex, he straightened his position and turned to face you, only to have you rest your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

“Why do I feel like you’re trying to get rid of me? What are you up to?” You asked, eyes boring into his.

Naturally, he felt nervous and gulped before licking his lips. “Nothing.”

“I hope you’re not lying,” you said softly as you caressed his face. “You know I hate lies.”

Jay’s response after your statement was enough to make you stop nagging, or whatever it was you were doing. The way he gently captured your lips in his for a kiss, and nibbling it afterwards, made you sigh into his mouth.

“There is nothing for you to worry about,” Jay muttered. He then kissed your cheek. “Boss.”

---

It took you less than an hour to reach your nail salon, and to not have Heeseung wait around for you too long, you sent him back to the office. You had to hold yourself back from spoiling him about the results, so every time he initiated a conversation, you just let him take the lead with the topic.

The lady at the reception greeted you by your name, as you had been going there for years at this point. You did not have to wait for your turn, and they immediately escorted you to your usual spot. After browsing countless colors, you opted for a soft pink for your nails and a chic nude for your toes. The therapist who was handling you very carefully initiated small talk, which you happily reciprocated, and you ended up talking about a lot of trivial things.

When you made your way back to the counter to pay for the services, the receptionist smiled at you as she refused the card you were holding.

“Your treatment today is already paid for, Miss. As well as the next three treatments, whenever you would like to have them.”

You frowned, trying to remember if you asked Hwiyoung to do this or if you did it yourself. Sensing your confusion, the lady continued to explain.

“I believe it was prepaid by a Mr. Park Jay?” She said, looking at the screen of the iPad in front of her.

You sighed and smiled to yourself before thanking the staff and exiting the salon. As you walked, you took out your phone and snapped a selfie of yourself, showing off your nails.

“Thank you for the treat,” you texted Jay.

It did not take a minute for him to reply to you.

“Can’t wait to see them wrapped around my dick tonight. See you at home.”

“My God,” you muttered to yourself as you brought a hand over your lips to cover your smile. Your boyfriend really had no filter when it was just the two of you.

---

It was a sunny Saturday morning, and you woke up with Jay kissing you all over your face, claiming that he wanted to go hit the gym early and do a couple of errands after. You sulked and held his face against your breasts for a couple of seconds before he chuckled and patted your waist, making you let go of him.

Half an hour later, you decided that it was the day to be experimental. You had your mother send you a recipe of her classic mud cake that she used to make for you and your brother all the time when you were little. Since tomorrow was the monthly meetup schedule with Jay’s parents, you thought it would be nice to show up at their house with something homemade.

You had your iPad propped up on the kitchen counter, away from the stove and the sink because you knew that you could not be trusted with the way your hands move. You had the ingredients stocked since two days ago when Heeseung accompanied you grocery shopping again—a routine that had formed ever since that time you spent away from Jay, and whenever he wasn’t available for you to shop with. In the middle of prepping the mixture, you didn’t trust the measurements that you prepared, so you paused and called your mother.

You managed to keep the conversation focused to cooking, and not derailing to any other topic, but once you hung up you immediately forgot what she said, so you ended up texting back and forth with her. Eventually, you managed to put the cake in the oven to bake, and just as you were wiping your hands on your apron, you heard the door unlock.

“Baby?” Jay called from the doorway. You could hear him placing the keys on the counter and taking off his shoes.

Deciding not to answer, you merely waited until he showed up in the kitchen. He froze and stared at you, and since you couldn’t decode what was in his head, you quickly unlocked your phone to check your reflection. Strands of hair were loose and falling from your messy bun, your black tank top had splotches of white from the flour and sugar, and the apron tied around your waist barely covered the short shorts you were wearing.

“Um,” Jay cleared his throat, “is this my birthday?”

You scoffed and turned around to face the oven again, making sure you had set the temperature right. “I’m experimenting.”

“Define ‘experimenting’,” Jay said, walking over to the sink and getting ready to clean up after you.

You moved to block his way. “I’m baking a cake for our visit tomorrow. Don’t clean up!”

Jay put both his hands up out of reflex, startled that you raised your voice. You sulked and pushed him out of the way, knowing very well he had done enough for you.

“If you’re bringing a cake for my parents then that’s even a better reason for me to help clean up.” Jay stepped towards you and rubbed your shoulders. He then brushed his thumb over your cheek to get rid of the bit of chocolate that somehow ended up there.

“You don’t need to clean up after me. I can do it. It takes an hour and a half to bake the cake and you can go shower or whatever,” you whined, pushing him away again.

“I wanna do whatever, and that means cleaning up,” Jay replied. He bent down to kiss your cheek roughly and then pushed you away.

You realized it was pointless to fight Jay when it comes to cleaning, so you got out of his way and started lightly tidying up around the rest of the kitchen. Meanwhile, Jay was quick to wash all the tools you had used for the cake, and even got to washing the dishes from this morning’s breakfast. When he was done, he turned to look at you and found you texting on your phone, your hair was now let down and the scrunchie you used to tie it was on your wrist.

There was something about you wearing an apron that made Jay stare, and you could feel his eyes boring into you after a couple of seconds.

“What?” You asked nonchalantly, setting your phone down on the counter.

Jay eyed the timer you had set by the oven. You had thirty minutes left until the cake is ready.

“You say that like I’m not allowed to stare at you,” Jay commented, leaning back on the kitchen sink and gripping the edges with his hands. “You look beautiful.”

Your eyes squinted in suspicion and Jay just laughed. “What do you want?” You asked, genuinely cautious.

Jay shook his head as he pushed himself forward, walking towards you. “My answer to that is always you. I want you.”

He tilted your chin up to kiss your lips and you immediately sighed. You loved the way he was always so forward with you, and you were grateful that he knew exactly the time and place to be intimate. You felt his arm wrapped around your waist, so you threw your arm around his neck, pulling him closer to you as you continued to make out.

“Jay,” you whispered, almost out of breath. “Not now.”

“Why not?” Jay protested, his lips grazing yours.

You tilted your head to the side, and he instead latched his lips on to your neck. You stifled back a moan. “The cake is almost done and sex with you takes at least an hour.”

Jay chuckled lowly right by your ear, and you hated how it still made you shiver. You could already feel your panties getting damp, and you did not want to give him the satisfaction.

“You have the timer on, it’s not like you’re gonna burn it,” Jay argued, innocently leaving more kisses down your shoulder.

“But I don’t want to rush when it comes to you.”

Your sentence made Jay stop in his tracks. He sighed before leaving the gentlest kiss on your collarbone. He then cupped your face with his hands.

“Just let me show you how much I appreciate you. Okay?”

You frowned but nodded anyway, and before you could form a reply, Jay’s lips were already attached to yours again. His hands moved to your waist, and with one swift move, he picked you up and made you sit on the empty counter. He continued to kiss you, distracting you with his tongue while his hands untied the apron around your waist. When you felt him tug your shorts, you whined a little, but when he pulled back to look at you with a face that looked like he was begging, you eventually indulged.

He pulled you off the counter, making you stand up straight as he carefully took your shorts and panties off. Instead of sitting back on the counter, he turned you around and made you face it. He then pulled you against his chest before his hand traveled downwards, coating his fingers with your arousal.

“You say you don’t wanna rush but look how quick it takes for you to get wet because of me,” Jay whispered into your ear. You moaned and threw your head back, making him gain access to leave marks on your neck.

“Don’t… tease,” you whined in between breaths. Jay smirked before kissing your cheek again and taking his hands away from your core.

You couldn’t form a coherent sentence before Jay gently but very firmly pushed you against the counter. You winced in an instant, feeling the cold against your lower ab. Jay kneeled behind you, your ass right in front of his face, and made you lift your left leg up against the counter. This created the perfect angle for him to stuff his face in your cunt, so that was exactly what he did next.

As soon as you felt his nose nudge against your ass, and his warm tongue pressed flat against your slit, you let out a lewd mewl. Jay wasted no time in making you reach your high, and you could tell from the way he was dragging his tongue up and down your folds as his fingers became busy with flicking your clit. You desperately reached your hands out for something to grip, but with every thrust of his tongue into you, you couldn’t help but moan loudly. For a second, you couldn’t even say his name, your mind clouded by the amount of pleasure he was making you feel.

“Jay,” you whispered, almost inaudible. “Oh my God.”

Jay ignored your pathetic wails and continued to devour you, humming whenever he felt your arousal drip onto his chin, groaning whenever he heard you moan too loud. Whatever he was doing, it was too much and too good, and you easily lost track of time. Your moans became quicker and higher in pitch, and Jay let you stain his face as you squirted all over him. He detached his lips only to rub his fingers along your folds, and when he noticed your legs shaking, he carefully helped you stand up straight.

You turned around as you tried to catch your breath, and Jay was still on his knees, rubbing your thighs and licking you dry. You looked at the mess you just caused on the floor and Jay followed your eyes, grinning at the result of his ministrations. He placed his hand beside you on the counter as he stood up, and as soon as his face was in front of yours you kissed him passionately. He reciprocated your kiss, lovingly rubbing his hands down your hips, and moments later the timer you had set went off.

“Perfect timing,” Jay said with a smile after pulling away from your kiss. You rolled your eyes and he merely chuckled, reaching for your shorts for you to put back on.

Once you did, Jay smacked your ass as you walked over to the oven, peeking to see the cake. “Ugh, I hope it’s good.”

“Even if it isn’t, we just created a core memory,” Jay replied. “I’m actually excited to see you in the kitchen more often.”

“Why, so you can distract me and fuck me senseless again?” You asked, challenging him with your tone.

Jay shrugged as he leaned back on the counter again, a smug smile on his face. “I mean, if that’s what you want.”

---

You waved goodbye for the nth time to Jay’s mom and dad as they both watched you enter your Palisade. Jay was already keeping the engine running, and he had to wait for a couple of minutes since his mother was so happy about the cake you bought and wouldn’t stop thanking you and praising you about it. Once you buckled your seat, Jay lightly pressed the horn and waved his hand out the window, carefully steering the car out of the driveway.

It started to rain when you were still on the highway, and the darkness combined with the soft pitter-patter of the rain made you feel sleepy. You yawned once and quickly reached for your phone to change the playlist into something more upbeat.

“You can sleep if you want,” Jay said, noticing your movement through his peripheral vision.

“No, I don’t want you driving in silence,” you replied. You finally found your dance playlist filled with Latin pop songs, and you sat back and relaxed.

After two songs, you realized the music wasn’t helping you stay awake, but you turned your head and saw Jay tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and bobbing his head to the music.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, looking at you for a split second.

You shook your head. “I’m still sleepy.”

The highway was not completely empty but was not packed either, so Jay settled on a speed that felt like cruising. Since the road was straight, he set his free hand on your thigh and gave you a couple of comforting strokes. The way his grip was firm against your skin surely made you feel awake, and he noticed it by the way you were sighing in content.

Jay trailed his fingers up your thigh, and you regretted not wearing a dress or a skirt. Thankfully, though, the fabric of your culottes was thin enough for you to feel the pressure of his touch. Jay calmly stroked his finger along your core, pressing harder just in case you couldn’t feel him, and you squirmed a little in your seat.

Before you were about to protest, the rain started pouring harder. Jay became distracted, and as he tried to focus on the road, he pulled back his hand to put on the steering wheel again. Now fully awake, you sighed and checked your phone, and you noticed that you weren’t even halfway home. You saw Jay slowing down the car and turning on the fog lights, as well as putting the windshield wiper on a faster setting. The cars around you were also slowing down, with some even putting on their hazard lights for caution.

“Baby, there’s a rest area coming up. Let’s just stop and grab coffee and wait for the rain to calm down,” you said, turning your phone towards Jay. He nodded and began searching for the entrance to the rest area.

You were focused on your phone, searching what stores the rest area had, and when you felt the car stopping, you looked around and found out that Jay picked a secluded place to park. The rain was now pouring even harder to the point that the raindrops completely covered your windows, making it hard for anyone to see outside, or for anyone outside to see what’s inside.

“Let me grab the umbrella,” you muttered, undoing your seatbelt. You pushed yourself up with one knee and squeezed yourself into the gap between the driver’s seat and yours, unintentionally sticking your ass up to the air. “Oh, shit. I forgot to put the umbrella back here. It’s still in my Benz.”

Jay chuckled at your comment before lightly smacking your ass.

“Hey!” You protested as you wiggled your way back to your seat.

“Take the hint, baby,” Jay sighed, undoing his own seatbelt. He brushed his hair back and you hated how good it made him look. “Allow me to finish what I started.”

“What do you—mean…”

Your question was put to a halt as soon as you felt Jay palming your core again. You looked at him in question and he nodded at you reassuringly.

“It’s raining hard. Nobody is here. Don’t worry.”

At the sound of his voice, you calmed down. You let Jay adjust your seat, pulling it backwards and making you lie down so he would have ample room to be in front of you. He tugged the edge of your pants once, and it didn’t take him a second time for you to pull them down to your legs and even taking them off completely.

“Oh, baby,” Jay sighed as he saw the sight of your cunt dripping. “I’m sorry I made you wait.”

He ran two fingers along your slit, and you shuddered, grasping his wrist. He then brought his fingers to his nose and sniffed them before sucking them dry. Your eyes rolled back at his actions, and he found you adorable.

It wasn’t often that you and Jay would fuck with clothes on. When you were in a hurry, or when you needed a quick fix at the office, it would happen. But nowadays, you prefer to keep your intimacy reserved for at home. Now, seeing Jay with his navy collared short sleeve, his hair styled neatly, and his watch around his wrist, made you feel somehow even more aroused than when you saw him completely naked.

Jay took his pants off and carefully made his way to your side, with one hand pumping his length. He leaned in to kiss your cheek before moving down to your neck, licking and sucking on your supple skin because he knows it’s the best way to get you wetter. Your breathing became heavy, and as he continued to devour you, he began massaging your breasts, desperately pulling your top down so he can kiss your tits too.

You felt the cold of his rings and the metal of his watch against the heat of your skin. You were already a whimpering mess, and when he aligned himself with you, you felt the tip of his cock brush your folds.

“Jay,” you whispered, resting your hands around his neck. “Please just do it fast.”

Jay kissed your cheek tenderly at the same time he pushed inside you. Your moan stuttered as you felt him slowly fill you up. He thrusted into you once, and you closed your eyes. You caressed his face and ran your hands through his hair, encouraging him to move faster. For a while, the sound of the raindrops was replaced with the sound of skin slapping, and it echoed in the car. The way Jay was thrusting deeper made you spread your legs wider, and you were grateful that your first car sex with Jay was done in a bigger car, not your Benz.

Determined to get you off fast, Jay kept going faster, and you had to stabilize yourself by holding on to his shoulders. You heard him groan into your ear, signaling that he was also close, so you hooked your legs around his waist and pressed his body closer to you. He came first, shooting his cum inside you, and the warmth drove you to your own high just seconds after.

At this point Jay was panting on your neck, and you gently caressed the back of his head, while your other hand was still holding on to his shoulder. He tilted his head to kiss your jawline and you smiled.

“I don’t want a single drop staining the car,” you whispered. “Don’t make a mess.”

Jay licked his lips before pushing himself up with his palms. He then reached down to grab his dick and began to very carefully, and in an agonizingly slow manner, pull out of you. Your breath began to even out, but then you felt his cum slowly dripping out of you. You gasped when you felt Jay collect his cum with the tip of his dick and pushing it back into you.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“I know,” you responded.

You grabbed a couple of tissues to clean the rest of it, and in a matter of minutes, you were already fully dressed, and Jay was already buckling his pants on as he sat back on the driver’s seat.

“The rain stopped,” he said, peeking out through the window. “Wanna go get that coffee?”

“Yeah, why not?” You looked for your purse. “I feel relaxed after I have sex with you, so I do need caffeine to wake me up.”

Jay laughed, palming his face and brushing his hair back. “So, my attempt to wake you up sort of backfired?”

You checked your phone before chucking it into your purse. “Hey, at least the driver’s wide awake, right?”

---

You had your lunch at your office while you sent Jay off to the canteen, claiming that he needed to socialize more and get a decent lunch since you never really had your custom lunch order exceed a portion of one. You finished eating in less than fifteen minutes, just in time for you to greet your brother. He knew his way in the office, so even without waiting for Hwiyoung to come back from his break, your brother managed to find you seated comfortably on your chair.

“Knock-knock,” your brother said as he knocked on the door and pushed it open at the same time.

“Who’s there?” You responded, placing your chin on your palm and eyeing your brother from your desk.

“Oh, that wasn’t a joke,” he said. Smiling, he trotted over to your desk. “Sister,” he sighed, reaching out both his eyes to hug you.

“Ugh, stop it, Seungho,” you said as you rolled your eyes. You welcomed his embrace. “You don’t want me calling you oppa, do you?”

“God, no,” Seungho shook his head in horror while hugging you tight. When he pulled back, you began observing his looks closely.

“You got a tan,” you commented.

“You cut your hair,” he retorted.

“Is that a scar near your eyebrow?”

“Is that a hickey?”

You fumbled for your phone and checked your reflection, craning your neck to see the spot Seungho pointed at. Nothing was there.

“Made you look,” he chuckled.

You led your brother to the sofa while offering him a choice of drink from your minibar. He settled with sparkling water, and you commented how it was so on brand of him. You then proceeded to join him, sitting on the lounge chair to his side and leaning closely, listening to all his updates on his life and stories about his husband.

“I mean seriously,” Seungho continued, “Byunghee never cleans up after he shaves. And what does he even shave? The damn beard is still there when he’s done.”

You chuckled softly, mostly at the fact that your brother’s husband’s facial hair was one of the things you remembered most about him. He finished his story, or his rant, and then you heard two knocks on the door.

“Come in,” you said.

Hwiyoung came inside and at the sight of your brother, he immediately bowed. Seungho smiled wide and spoke even before Hwiyoung had a chance to formally greet him.

“Is this the famous Park Jay? Oh, I love your hair. So nice to finally meet you!”

You facepalmed and sighed, and poor Hwiyoung was just looking at you in panic. Seungho was confused at both your reactions.

“Wrong assistant, Sir,” Hwiyoung finally spoke up. “I’m Hwiyoung. The second secretary.”

“Oh my God,” Seungho said as he stood up. “That’s embarrassing. I am so sorry! Forgive me for assuming. Also, are you single?”

“Seungho, you’re married!” You yelled.

“Asking for a friend!” Seungho yelled back in defense, putting both his hands up.

Hwiyoung waited exactly two seconds before breaking the silence. “Anyway…”

He walked towards you and spoke in a lower voice, asking for confirmation about your next schedule. Once you were done talking to him, you looked at your brother, who was busy checking his phone for messages.

“Hwiyoung, this is my brother, Seungho.” You sat back as you finished introducing the two.

Seungho apologized again to Hwiyoung before you sent him off. As soon as Hwiyoung left, Seungho looked at you with a wide grin.

“That was more embarrassing for me than for him,” you stated. “Don’t tell Jay about it.”

“Tell me what?”

You flinched in your seat as you heard Jay’s voice. You realized that Hwiyoung did not close the door behind him since he already saw Jay approaching your office.

“Seungho, Jay. Jay, this is my brother.”

You gestured your hand randomly towards the both of them, and then Jay immediately bowed before reaching out his hand to your brother.

“You’re really handsome,” your brother commented.

“Isn’t that lovely?” You chimed in before giving Jay a chance to reply. “I think you’re handsome. My gay brother thinks you’re handsome. You’re universally handsome.”

Seungho cackled and fell back to his seat while Jay was trying to control himself from blushing. It’s not every day that he gets to hear you say he’s handsome.

You instructed Jay to take your seat and talk to your brother to keep him company while you checked on a couple of documents that Hwiyoung sent to your email. You realized there were a couple of things that need fixing, and since there was a guest in your office, you decided to just go to your staff’s desk.

Jay was a natural at socializing, but he had no idea how to properly behave around your brother. You had never told him much about Seungho, and even when you do, nothing about your stories reflect that much about his personality. It took him a while to finally relax and find a shared interest with Seungho, and soon enough the conversation shifted to the topic of you.

“I’ve been meaning to say,” Seungho cleared his throat before emptying the bottle of sparkling water into his glass, “thank you.”

Jay’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not sure I understand…”

“For making my sister happy.”

Jay blinked once, blankly staring at Seungho’s hands. “Oh,” was his only respond.

Seungho smiled. “I’m saying this because all she did in her past relationship was rant about her boyfriends, I mean exes, to me. I haven’t heard anything bad about you, so I guess you’re doing something right.”

Jay scoffed, still searching for the proper way to respond. Seungho calmly waved his hand as he set back his glass on the table.

“I’ve also heard good things about you from my parents. My mom, particularly, wouldn’t shut up about you. And I know it’s none of my business, but… your relationship is serious, right?”

Hearing this question, Jay nodded without a beat. “I’m serious.”

“Good,” Seungho said. “Because if you hurt her, I’m gonna have to unleash all the hidden knowledge I have gained from listening to a lot of true crime podcasts.”

Jay blinked again in astonishment. Seungho laughed.

“I’m kidding! Obviously.” Seungho gently punched Jay on his shoulder, and Jay responded with a nervous laugh.

---

You winced as you felt the cold of the water hit your face. You quickly washed up and put on your skincare, deciding to go extra on the sunscreen for today. It was still dark, but you woke up before your alarm went off, so you figured you could get ready early before Jay wakes up. When you were done in the bathroom, you went back into your bedroom and changed into your workout outfit in the dark. Once you were ready, you turned to see Jay still sleeping soundly.

“Baby,” you called as you sat on the edge of the bed. “We need to leave soon if we want to catch the sunrise.”

Jay stirred in his sleep and shifted to face you. His eyebrows were knitted, and his lips pursed. You chuckled as you tapped your finger to his lips. He then whined and pulled you into him by your wrist. He managed to hug you sideways, and all you did was pat his shoulders in return.

“You smell nice,” he mumbled, lips brushing your skin.

“Up on the count of three, come on,” you replied, getting ready to pull him up. “One, two…”

Jay pushed himself up and into your arms, leaning towards you and kissing your lips but missing his aim. He ended up kissing your chin.

“Three,” you said calmly before properly giving him a good morning kiss. “Now go change. You promised you’d take me to see the sunrise. I wouldn’t have gotten up so early if you weren’t the one taking me.”

Jay merely yawned and stretched his arms. “Okay, Boss.”

You had to tell Jay to chill and not speed since it was quite a long drive to the mountain. Apparently, Jay had done extensive research about the best sunrise spots in the city, and he deemed that the best spot would be the one that was not walking distance from your place. Luckily, you both got there in time. You spotted a couple of people who were also hiking early, assuming they were there to watch the sun too.

Once you reached the perfect spot—away from the people but not sacrificing the view, you brushed the back of your leggings before sitting down on the rocks. Jay followed suit, sitting next to you as he kept his hands inside the pockets of his windbreaker. He froze for a while, running both hands into the pockets like he was searching for something.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, noticing his jittery behavior.

He paused again like he was processing something to say, then he took one hand out and felt the pocket on his jogger.

“Forgot I put the keys here,” he said with a stupid grin.

You chuckled and sat comfortably. With Jay right beside you, it meant you had a nice shoulder to lean on. Jay pressed his head on yours, and as you both sat there in silence, the sun started to peek. You watched as the dark sky turned orange, and although it felt like it took ages to get there, the sun rising ended way faster, and in that short moment the view of the sunrays hitting the forest below you and the rocks around you made you choke up.

Jay linked his fingers with your hand and brought it up to his lips. Kissing your knuckles, he told you he loved you in a voice that was barely even a whisper. You closed your eyes as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, letting his warmth cover you like a cozy blanket. When you opened your eyes, the sun had already turned the sky a light blue. The slight fog you saw between the trees had disappeared too.

“We’re having dinner tonight at the restaurant that Jake does part-time work,” Jay stated, pulling back to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Wear whatever you’d like, but I’d love it if you look pretty.”

“Are you saying I’m not pretty now?” You asked. You then pulled up your hoodie to cover your head.

“Hoodie on, hoodie off, you’re always pretty,” Jay replied. He then tugged the edge of the hoodie back to expose your ear as he leaned into it. “You’re the prettiest when you’re naked for me, though.”

His whisper obviously sent shivers down your spine, so you just hit him gently on the chest to combat the sheer embarrassment that was starting to show on your cheeks. Jay chuckled lowly and pulled your hoodie back completely before pulling you into a warm hug.

---

“Babe, can you unbox the two packages that have been sitting by the door while you wait?”

Jay had to look up from his phone to pay attention to you. You were sitting at your vanity table, taking your time to put on makeup since you really did want to look pretty as per Jay’s request. He nodded before setting his phone down on the bed and leaving the bedroom.

“Do you want me to unbox it here in the kitchen, or…?” Jay’s sentence hung in the air as he waited for your response.

You answered him by walking out of your bedroom and meeting him in the kitchen. You were done with your makeup except for your lip color, and for a second Jay thought you were sick because of how pale your lips looked.

“Actually, I think one of those boxes is my order,” you said, hopping to sit on the bar stool. You watched as Jay carefully opened the box with a cutter.

The first box was filled with paper wrap and paper confetti, and you noticed how Jay was already smiling even before he took out what was inside. When he did, you gasped and kept your mouth open as you admired what appeared to be two matching cat mugs—one was light blue with a black cat on it, and the other was baby pink with a white cat one it. When pushed together, it looked like the black cat was grooming the white cat.

“Matching mugs for us!” Jay said with a huge smile. “Do you think it’s cute?”

You were still speechless from the shock and pure adoration, so you said nothing as you unboxed your own package. A second later, you pulled out a dark green mug with a little white cat siting on the handle.

“I literally got this for you,” you said, pushing the green mug to Jay.

Jay was now laughing softly and rendered speechless. You pulled the blue and pink cat mugs and carefully picked one up.

“What made you buy these?” You asked.

Jay shrugged, also admiring the green mug. “I just thought of you when I saw them. I figured, since you can’t hang out with cats because of me, I should make an effort to add more cat stuff to our daily lives.”

“That’s adorable,” you replied. “Thank you.”

“And this?” Jay asked, holding up his mug.

“Bought that on a whim. I thought of getting it for you since it’s your color, but if you don’t want it, I was gonna use it for myself.”

The two of you then just stared at the three mugs on the counter, and then at each other. You chuckled before you stretched out your arms, and Jay walked over to your side to give you a hug.

“Go finish your makeup,” Jay said, kissing the top of your head. “Jake will literally be waiting for us.”

You snorted at his pun. “Funny. You still need to style your hair.”

Jay muttered a soft ‘fuck’ before you cackled and walked away to the bedroom, with him trailing behind you.

---

You and Jay were seated by the window that overlooked the city. The lights from the buildings and the moving cars below created the perfect view, and you had to admit that the night sky was one of your favorite things to look at, second to watching sunsets. You were wearing a baby blue jumpsuit with a matching-colored fuzzy cardigan and your pearl choker around your neck. Jay was dressed in a darker shade of blue, with his navy button-down making his honey skin glow. His wristwatch matched your golden accessories, and if someone were to take a picture of the two of you at your table, it would have looked like something out of Pinterest.

The conversation you were having with Jay was hushed because you did not want to disturb the serenity of your surroundings. The restaurant was not full, but you spotted several couples as well as families sitting quite far from where you were. Jake was already waiting for another table when you arrived, but whenever he had to pass you to get to the table, he would always look to you and give you a wink.

You felt like this had become a routine, for Jay to reserve a table at a restaurant you did not know and to enjoy a luxurious dinner while talking about everything going on in your lives. While Jay was speaking, you lost yourself for a moment, just staring at him while he was looking down at his food and babbling about stuff at work. You realized that you will never get bored of his stories, no matter how long you two had been together. You will listen to him for the rest of your life.

Your waiter cleared out your table once you finished your main course. When he asked what you wanted for dessert, Jay requested some time to choose. It was odd, you thought, since normally he would come prepared with a set of dishes to choose from. The waiter excused himself, and right after, Jay cleared his throat.

“Y/N,” Jay said in a low voice. The change in his tone sort of alarmed you. If you weren’t madly in love with each other, you would have thought he was about to break up with you.

“Jay?” You asked back. It made him chuckle. “Is everything okay?”

You saw Jay shifting in his seat, reaching into his pocket. He then took out a small box. It was black velvet, and from the size it could only be an engagement ring. Or earrings. Your heart started beating so fast. It seemed like Jay could sense it, so to make things clear, he opened the box and pushed it towards the center of the table, showcasing the ruby ring that was planted inside.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, more towards yourself.

“Listen,” Jay cleared his throat, “I prepared a whole speech, so I hope you’d be willing to listen.”

You laughed softly and straightened your position. Your hands were fiddling on your lap, and you tried your best to keep looking into his eyes as he spoke.

“I’ve thought about this for a long time, even before I proposed to you when I was drunk. I rarely get drunk, but when I do, my friends usually tell me I become even more honest than I already am. So, believe me, it wasn’t just me blabbering. I really want to marry you.”

You nodded gently and waited for him to continue. He took a deep breath.

“First, I want to apologize to you. For lying.”

You frowned.

“Whenever I’m away, spending a couple of hours from home, and whatever my excuse was, it was a lie. I was making appointments, planning stuff, seeing the designer for the ring, meeting your parents, meeting my parents, basically taking care of everything I needed to do before I ask you the question.”

Your eyes softened. “You talked to my parents?”

Jay nodded. “I’ve been spending more time with them, together or separately, just so I can get to know them better. It’s nice of them to always meet up with me in the city since they know I’m allergic to cats.”

You chuckled. You felt your eyes slowly tearing up.

“I talked to your dad first. I think he was the one who ended up convincing your mom, you know, that I’m actually a decent guy.”

Jay laughed nervously after his statement, and you continued to look at him, smiling.

“I’ve thought about everything regarding work, too, you know. If this status would change anything, and I kind of weighed all the options before coming to the decision that I do want to marry you and I still want to work for you.”

You nodded again. Jay then reached out for your hand, and you quickly placed your hand in his. You could feel him slightly trembling, and you thought that it was wholesome.

“Damn it, I forgot what else I was supposed to say.”

You almost snorted at his remark, looking down to contain your laughter. Jay pressed his lips together before he looked into your eyes again.

“Y/N, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

You could no longer hold your tears back, so you let them fall. As you sniffed, you squeezed his hand in yours and smiled.

“With all my heart,” you answered.

Jay smiled back at you before taking the ring and putting it on your finger. You did not even take a second to admire the ring before you stood up and took a step towards him. He stood to pull you into his arms, hugging you tightly and whispering words of love in your ears. And at the same time, you heard the dispersed sound of clapping throughout the restaurant.

You felt slightly embarrassed that the people there had to witness your crying face, but you were happy that they shared the joy, so you silently thanked them with a hand over your chest. Jay did the same. He helped you go back to your seat.

Jay sat back and let out a sigh of relief, and you chuckled at him. Your waiter returned, and this time Jay placed the order for your dessert. Just seconds after, Jake walked over to your table.

“Way to go, mate,” he said, bumping Jay’s shoulder with his fist ever so gently. Jay muttered a soft thanks, and then Jake looked at you. “Noona, congratulations.”

You reached out both your hands to Jake and he held them tightly, a huge grin plastered on his face.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got pictures and videos of the proposal. I’ll airdrop them as soon as my shift is over,” Jake confessed. “Now I gotta run before my manager sees me.”

Your mouth was wide open, and you were left stunned, unable to form a response. Jay laughed.

“Does that mean he recorded me crying?” You asked Jay, looking around.

“I’m sure he got it at a good angle,” Jay responded, reassuring you. “Oh, right, I remembered what I was going to say.”

You were taking a sip from your glass of water and almost spat it back out from laughing. “What is it?”

“I was supposed to propose to you this morning when we were watching the sunrise.”

You looked at Jay for a couple of seconds before you blinked. “So, when you were frantically patting yourself down and searching for something in your pocket, it wasn’t the car keys but the ring? You left it at home?”

“Exactly.”

You snorted again and laughed silently, your fiancé chuckling with you.

---

After a hearty chat with Jake as soon as his shift ended, you went home with a bunch of pictures and videos on your phone. Jay was right, Jake knew all the good angles, although it’s a shame he couldn’t capture the audio since he was recording from a distance.

Mr. Lee picked you up with a huge smile on his face, and it made you realize that Jay had given him a heads-up already about his plan. Your driver glance towards you and you held up your hand, moving your fingers and showing off the ring.

“Are you relieved now, Park?” Mr. Lee asked after congratulating you both.

“I am!” Jay replied. “Thank you for driving me around, Mr. Lee.”

“You made him drive you around?” Your eyes widened as you shifted your gaze between your fiancé and your driver.

Mr. Lee waved off his hand. “Only once or twice, Miss. Don’t you worry. The younger Mr. Lee drove him around more often.”

“I can’t believe you’re taking both my drivers behind my back,” you sighed, leaning your head on Jay’s shoulder.

Jay merely shrugged. “I’ll be sure to leave them both a huge tip later.”

The moment you arrived at home you were exhausted. Jay was too, and you guessed it was because the whole suspense and anticipation he had been holding in for the whole day. You decided to take turns showering, and when you finished first, you went to the kitchen to make tea for two.

When you returned to the bathroom, Jay was already done washing up. You did your skincare side by side, and Jay took the jade roller from your hands and made you give instructions on how to use it on your face. You did the same routine on Jay’s face, and throughout the whole process he was closing his eyes and smiling.

You both then slipped into your favorite pajamas—your silky kimono set in green and Jay’s cotton pajamas in black. He made you sit on the sofa to choose a movie for the night while he made sure the tea that you prepared was still hot. You opted for your all-time favorite romcom that you had watched more than five times, and at this point you were able to follow almost all the dialogs in the movie. Jay smiled as he listened to your rambles, alternating between rubbing your shoulders or running his fingers through your hair.

As the end credits rolled up, you turned to look at Jay and started fondly caressing his face. Your eyes fell to your engagement ring, and Jay quickly noticed it.

“Gorgeous, huh?” He asked with a grin on his face.

“It’s breathtaking. And also huge. Would you be offended if I don’t wear it every day? I’m afraid of losing it,” you confessed, fixing the ring on your finger.

“You can do whatever you want, my queen,” Jay replied. He leaned in to give you a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I’m tired and sleepy right now. Can we have sex in the morning?”

Jay chuckled and booped your nose. “I kiss you once and you already think I’m trying to get in your pants?”

“Aren’t you?”

“I am.”

You snorted and lightly slapped his cheek. “In the morning. Not now. Or try waking me up with it. Whatever.”

Jay nodded and saluted you. You pulled his hand down as he laughed. You then threw your body onto his and let him cage you in the warmest embrace you had ever been in your life.

-END-

© forjongseong 2023, all rights reserved

another author's note: THERE YOU HAVE IT! he proposed. it was cliche but i love it. hope you did too! as usual, if you find any mistakes, typos, or grammatical errors, do let me know! ❤

read the next part: daylight

[transmutationisms]

might be a long shot but i think i remember u mentioning the article "against exercise" by mark greif & was wondering if u might have a link 2 an un-paywalled version or a pdf you'd be willing 2 share? the n+1 mag has a paywall that 12ft ladder can't get rid of...not sure if it's published elsewhere 4 free but i'm struggling 2 find it so thought it couldn't hurt 2 ask!

yes verso books has it posted for free :-)

The gym resembles a voluntary hospital. Its staff members are also its patients. Some machines put you in a traction you can escape. Others undo the imprisonment of a respirator, cuing you to pump your lungs yourself, and tracking your heart rate on a display. Aided even by a love that can develop for your pains, this self-testing becomes second nature. The curious compilation of numbers that you are becomes an aspect of your freedom, sometimes the most important, even more preoccupying than your thoughts or dreams. You discover what high numbers you can become, and how immortal. For you, high roller, will live forever. You are eternally maintained. The justification for the total scope of the responsibility to exercise is health. A further extension of the counting habit of exercise gives a precise economic character to health. It determines the anticipated numbers for the days and hours of one’s life. Today we really can preserve ourselves for a much longer time. The means of preservation are reliable and cheap. The haste to live one’s mortal life diminishes. The temptation toward perpetual preservation grows. We preserve the living corpse in an optimal state, not so we may do something with it, but for its own good feelings of eternal fitness, confidence, and safety. We hoard our capital to earn interest, and subsist each day on crusts of bread. But no one will inherit our good health after we’ve gone. The hours of life maintenance vanish with the person. The person who does not exercise, in our current conception, is a slow suicide. He fails to take responsibility for his life. He doesn’t labor strenuously to forestall his death. Therefore we begin to think he causes it. It may be a comfort to remember when one of your parents’ acquaintances dies that he did not eat well or failed to take up running. The nonexerciser is lumped with other unfortunates whom we socially dis- count. Their lives are worth a percentage of our own, through their own neglect. Their value is compromised by the failure to ensure the fullest term of possible physical existence. The nonexerciser joins all the unfit: the slow, the elderly, the hopeless, and the poor. “Don’t you want to ‘live’?” we say. No answer of theirs could satisfy us.

[mariamariquinha]

Versos de Placer (Colonel Carrillo x f!reader) - Thirteen (Part 2)

Summary: The void.

Word count: 7.6k

Warnings: Bad words, violence, ~ daddy issues ~, smut, unprotected p in v sex, slight mentions of political conditions from the period, trauma, nightmares, people drinking alcohol, feelings and angst 🤷‍♀️

Author’s Note: I will admit that I am VERY lazy about editing long chapters, so I will always point out that there may be some spelling mistakes. Trust me, sometimes it’s tiring to think in Portuguese and write in English.

This had a very firm direction even before writing, so after a long time, I announce that this is our penultimate chapter. I'm very tired, as you already know, and multi-chapter stories take longer and require more energy, which I've been lacking in recent months.

Either way, it's been an amazing journey! I will be very sad to close, but happy to know that I did something that means something to me. See you in the last chapter!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

----------------------------------

Hell, his cigarettes were always stronger. A combination of tough tobacco and intense nicotine, more natural but probably more dangerous. The box was nearly full, you noticed as you fished one out. Either he had recently bought it or he was being more resilient with his addiction - either of those things seemed unlikely. Feeling it now, as you inhaled the nicotine and hid a cough of surprise at the intense taste, you almost had the impression that being addicted to it seemed a lot harder than it looked.

You had sat on the back steps, but you made a point of leaving the door closed as it was before. The night was muggy, a little cruel if you were wearing more than a cotton t-shirt; it gave you an overwhelming feeling, as if you were sensing everything around you. You noticed that the garden had a particularly feminine feel to it — something that felt like Juliana, perhaps a very vivid reflection of what her presence in the house was like. Flowers, water fonts, the stone that certainly had a cool name that was used on the steps you were sitting on. You could feel comfort in the soles of your feet if you moved a little. 

The weeds and chips in the beds looked more like Carrillo. You wouldn’t think he cared so much about making the place feel like a house, let alone whether to make the garden look like a garden.

“Why are you here?” 

You didn’t have a proper answer. Given his manners, you could smoke in the room, could think about whatever kept you up that night by his window or in the comfort of his bed. Instead, you got there, far away, fingers brushing your jaw unconsciously and smoking a cigarette that wasn’t yours. Without something to say, you shrugged, not eyeing him but knowing he could find ways to get the answer somehow. 

It was a pleasant surprise to see him walk down those steps, casually pull up a wooden chair that was there and sit down to face you. That made you smile discreetly. 

“It’s awful, just so you know,” You gestured with the cigarette in your hand, contradicting yourself the next second while you took another hit.

“It’s not the best option for those who want to quit.”

“I just picked the wrong time for this. Or the wrong career.” 

Carrillo didn't respond, but you could see him make that information something to mull over. You held his analytical gaze for a while; when it got intense enough, you took another drag and turned your face to the side.

“I didn't get them all,” The comment came after a long moment of silence, when you noticed that he didn’t make any effort to have one for him. 

“Mm-hm,” He answered easily. “I figured you'd stop at the first one.”

“Yeah, well, this shit it’s fucked. You should review your preferences.”

“On cigarettes?” 

“That too.” 

This time he reacted, but in such an unusual way that it didn't seem like him. Horacio was drowsy, slow, as if the outside world had taken a break for that moment. Rested, by the saying. And when he decided to lean forward, reaching out a hand to pull the cigarette clamped between your fingers, you let him, watching the way he just took the time to put it in his own mouth before subtly grabbing your previously occupied hand. The same one that was still sore from the impact of the fall, but not so bad that it made you flinch from the touch. With the orange cigarette light illuminating his face, Carrillo carefully detailed the wounds, his thumb trailing lightly over your knuckles. 

“Who told you?” The question slipped out of your mouth smoothly, but you felt anxious asking it. When he just frowned at you, you clarified. “About my… fall.”

He took his time taking the cig away, then took more time blowing the smoke away before saying something. 

“Peña.”

Of course. 

You tilted your head while you entertained yourself with the hold he had on your hand. Raising your eyes after a good moment, you saw him watching you. 

You looked at each other for a moment. His fingers twitched in the grasp he had on your skin and whatever breeze that would come to brush you two wouldn’t make a single scratch at that moment. He looked so soft, so… open, like a vision of whatever type of man he was, a person you’d been meeting piece by piece. The warm eyes, the peaceful sincerity and the calm touches. God, he was so beautiful. 

“Te extraño en mi cama.” I miss you in my bed. There wasn’t a teasing tone with the way he talked, but you could feel his intentions dripping from his voice. 

Instead of giving him a proper answer, you chose — again — to keep any thought to yourself. With a slow hand, you grabbed the cigarette again, inhaling a little and releasing the smoke into the air without taking your eyes off him.

“¿Entonces viniste a buscarme?” So you came to get me?

Eyeing him from above, you could see the small smirk playing on his lips at the comment. You reflected the reaction, taking another drag before returning the cigarette. On this one, he pulled the touch away from your hand and directed it to the bare skin of your leg. Again, you didn’t make the effort to move or say something. Carrillo leaned in carefully, placing a single kiss on the inside of your left knee, then another on the right one. His body was angled enough that you could admire the curve of his broad back, the way the muscles stretched the fabric of his shirt.

“¿Qué estás haciendo?” What are you doing? You asked, a little breathless from the gentle kisses and touches, shivering like an untouched woman. 

“Te quiero cerca de mi,” I want you close to me, He said against your skin, hand massaging your thighs. “¿Harías esto por mí?” Would you do this for me?

“Por supuesto, Horacio. No estaba huyendo.” Of course, Horacio. I wasn't running away.

“Yo sé que no. No irías muy lejos vestida así.” I know you weren’t. You wouldn't go far dressed like that. Carrillo straightened his stance, smiling playfully at you and letting a small ‘oof’ when you kicked him lightly on the leg. 

You two got back to a comfortable silence, the tip of his fingers brushing your knees while you kept staring at the distance. The cigarette was still burning, making that strong smell of tobacco flow through the air calmly. It was peaceful, the way you sat there, silently, in each other's orbit. For a moment, you wanted to ask if he just lost sleep or if you had woken him up; maybe he wanted to ask something like that too. In the end, no one said anything, even though something should be done soon and you should move on from there. 

“Quite dramatic, don’t you think?” You were the first one breaking the silence, still not eyeing him with a wave of embarrassment hitting you. “We’re almost there to get that motherfucker and I’m here whining because of my father.”

“You’re not whining.”

“You know what I mean.”

He knew and, from the inside, you also knew he agreed with your opinions. There was a lot going on, a war to win, people dying, but still your personal problems darkened your vision from the real problem. It made you understand why Carrillo was so averse to DEA or CIA - so many people looking at their own ass and not seeing the whole figure, the important part. Even then, you appreciated the effort, the way he just shook his head a little, took a drag, averted the topic. 

You two contemplated the night in silence, puffing smoke and eventually brushing each other’s shins or legs or fingers. It was so easy to get used to the calm of that moment, to remember it as something eternal. You didn't want to think about the end of that because thinking about the end of that would, perhaps, be thinking about the end of what you had with Horacio there, at that moment. A mission that had to be accomplished, with the usual consequences. This was such a cruel melancholy, one that you only glimpsed as simple touches on your fingertips but that made your heart sink.

“Que pasa, mi amor?” What is it, my love? Carrillo asked, probably noticing the way you showed your sadness in your eyes, staring back at him. 

“Nn-nn,” You shook your head. “I’m fine. Maybe I just wanna go to bed now.”

“We can do that.”

He didn't press, nor did he hesitate to put out his cigarette so the two of you could go back inside. When they did, Horacio locked the door but didn't let you go very far - he subtly held your hand, bringing you closer and kissing your bruised knuckles. Then, without taking his eyes off yours, he placed a sighing kiss on your forehead, in the middle of your eyebrows, on the bridge of your nose and, finally, on your lips.

“I don't think I ever told you how beautiful you are.”

“Horacio…”

“What? Don’t you believe me?” 

“I’m already here, that’s all. You already have me, you don’t need to-” You knew exactly why you waved off his compliment, why you felt so unsure of how to react to it, and maybe he did too, because Carrillo wasn’t dumb. “Thank you. Sorry.”

You also didn’t know why your eyes welled with tears - either way, you suppressed the urge to cry, looking at him from under your lashes with shyness. With a discreet hand, you held his chest, then the side of his neck, tilting your head to the side and almost failing in keeping a neutral expression while observing his face. If you could, you would tell him that you were used to losing, that it wasn’t the first time your mind started to prepare you for another fall, another break. That Horacio, that this, wouldn’t be forever, that maybe you were just a storm in a life that could be calm. 

Horacio deserved suitable days. Days where he could have kids, a wife to call his, sunday lunches with family and calm nights with a partner. You always doubted yourself so much, always put yourself in the harsh ways of life to just feel something, that suddenly you felt self conscious of the fact that you weren’t what he probably was looking for, that he wouldn’t change you or what happened or how messy the world was. You didn’t want it to end because it was good. Imprudent, maybe, and quite dangerous, but good. So good. 

“What will become of us after this, Horacio? What do you expect of me?” 

He blinked, frowning in a stern way. 

“Is that what made you lose sleep?” 

You nodded. The confirmation just made him sigh, shaking his head lightly and showing clear signs of frustration. 

“He was never right about you. He doesn't… He doesn't deserve you, what he said doesn't belong to you,” Carrillo contained a harsh tone, jaw clenching. “I don’t expect anything, not from you, not from us, nothing but the assurance that you’re here now. That’s what I need.”

---------------------------------

It was different that time, you knew it was. Not like the first time, in the pure and mutual attraction, nor the second, in the decompression of the adversities that surrounded the two of you. It was different because, if Carrillo was crazy enough to ask you to marry him or propose an escape or make you stay there forever, you would say yes. Yes, Yes, Yes. Yes, take me away, yes, make me yours, yes, be the father of the children I never wanted to have but would have if you asked me. Yes, I would do anything for you. 

But he didn't ask any of that. He hardly asked, in fact, because between ordering or teasing, as he always did with you, Horacio decided to give you things, fill you with dark truths in the way he kissed you and made love to you that night. 

There was caution, care. He calmly undressed you, kissed you from heel to lip, caressed you through your physical wounds and those of your mind, holding you tight while he heard you moan and sigh. Sex for you was always a coincidence, an exaggerated consummation that was nothing more than pure biology. With him, that night, it was the end of a long and unnecessary waiting time that would always lead to the same result: the two of you together, skin to skin, without delay.

It was ridiculously cliché, looking into his eyes as you rode him slowly, as you enjoyed every moment with sweaty, panting faces, and knowing that the devotion of pleasure was the first and most genuine positive emotion you felt for each other. That there was no love at first sight, nor at second, nor at third, but a feeling that was based on the truth that, sometimes, the patches of difficult lives so full of ashes were enough for the right person. Ashes that became embers and fire again, with comfortable flames that warmed and did not burn. Not anymore, at least.

When it was all over, with both of you exhausted, tired and overwhelmed by the end, Horacio opened his first truly light smile, without intentions, just a happy one. He passed his hand over your forehead, looked at you without fear.

“Te amo.” 

I love you. 

---------------------------------

In the morning, despite having little sleep, you indulged more than you did at night in the shower. It was much less romantic, but equally intense, with skin-to-skin noises, loud moans, nail marks and very naughty looks. He took you from behind, one possessive hand on your neck and the other arm wrapped around your torso to balance his firm thrusts, while you grabbed his hips to keep him going. 

One of your best mornings, indeed. 

“I have a meeting before lunch. Then we have some alignments about the capture,” He said, all professional again, handing you a cup of coffee. You took it, smiling at the gesture while eyeing the correspondence from the day before that was stuck on your purse. 

“The capture. Big word,” The teasing didn’t go unnoticed by him, but the term caused a small cloud of tension to hang in the air. 

A letter from your mother. She said she loved you, asked for what the fuck was that magazines in your apartment and a date she had with the guy from the Blockbuster she mentioned two letters before. No details, thank God. 

“What do you think?” 

“About what?”

A call-up from Messina. Nothing important. That report she asked was probably on her desk by now. 

“About this word.”

You stopped between an FBI report and another envelope. When you looked up, you saw him standing in front of you, leaning on the counter where you were sitting and sipping your own coffee. This made you consider a response, even if you already knew what you were going to say. With a sigh, you placed the envelopes back on the top of your bag and also took a sip of coffee, shrugging your shoulders.

“Last time he ran away.” 

“Is that what you meant?”

“... No,” You shook your head lightly. “We know what will happen. Do you want me to say it?” 

“You could try.”

But you didn’t. He knew, you knew, that was what mattered. Like ripping away a band-aid, or taking the life out of a queen bee - resolution, antidote, job done. You turned your face away from him, eyeing the letters splayed out there, and shook your head again. 

“I don't want to put you into the operation. When the day comes, I mean.”

“I know,” A sip - a bitter one. “It’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“My name will already be in the history books, Carrillo. The DEA agent who fell from the rooftops the most in Medellín,” Even if it meant to be a teasing, Horacio didn’t smile, which made you roll your eyes. “I did the job, we all did. Whoever pulls the trigger, I’m happy. Satisfied.”

He didn’t respond to that, nor did he bring up the subject again, and you knew he understood what your passive words meant. You could be hiding something, maybe, but you weren't sure what it was. Your father may have been incapable of keeping words that promised good things, but he had uncanny abilities to carry out his threats well. He wouldn't touch Carrillo, he needed him, the aggression and the wounded pride that still coursed through the guy's veins. It would be one, two of the group. It would be someone. 

You left the house giving him a long kiss, one that was returned with a certain innocence - which was an odd word to associate with him, anyway. Either way, you were determined to make the future farewell, the inevitable one, a little less full of secrets. You would say what really happened. You would do that, yes, different from what an unloving father would do after destroying his own family.

---------------------------------

“¿Qué pasó, hijo? Pareces distraído.” What happened, son? You seem distracted.

Jorge blinked a few times, looking back at the dishes in his hands and the foam, which was more sliding around his fists than actually cleaning anything in the sink. When he realized that he was, in fact, wandering in thought, he cleared his throat and tried to scrub the plate harder. He had done it before, but repeated the process unconsciously. 

“Sólo estoy cansado, mamá. Fue un día largo en el hospital.” I'm just tired, mom. It was a long day at the hospital.

He hadn't said it in the letter - he didn't feel the strength or courage to do so. He didn't know how his mother would react. Georgina was a truly strong, competent woman, but Jorge's need to take a peek into the past was always something she ignored or just pretended didn't exist. If she imagined anything from her son's erratic behavior, the way he had become more agitated since the DEA had gotten its hands on the hunt for Escobar, she didn't comment. Another quality of hers, perhaps coming from experience, was knowing when to be quiet. 

“No sé si voy a venir a cenar esta noche,” I don't know if I'm going to come to dinner tonight, Jorge said in a low, almost embarrassed tone, because he knew how much she didn’t like the idea. When he felt her coming closer, touching his shoulder calmly, he thought it was over and then, right there, all the secrecy would be over. 

“¿De guardia en el hospital?” On duty at the hospital?

“Mm-hm.” He nodded, still watching the dishes, afraid of what he would find if his eyes landed on Georgina. She hummed, patting his back, then turning away. 

“Ten cuidado en el camino. Por lo que parece, se están yendo.” Be careful on the way. From the looks of it, they’re leaving.

His hands clenched tightly at the mention of 'them', as did his eyes. Jorge always hated his sentimental side because it constantly failed him when necessary - since he was little, he would cry because he was away from his mother for a long time (who didn't give up brothel work even after having him) or he would get angry when another patient died due to lack of medicine in the hospital or he would even feel incredibly guilty when he saw the money that always came with men who were not from the government. That last part, he actually learned to overcome. If he was really determined like his grandmother always prophesied, he would never send that letter. You didn't owe him anything, you might not even have known he existed or, worse, followed not only in your father's footsteps in your career but in life.

Jorge left his mother's house afraid of being rejected again because it had been three days. Three days and nothing.

He wouldn't have another chance.

---------------------------------

That was the thing about being an almost lone woman on the front line: there was a subconscious idea that male colleagues had your back. Well, in general it was the other way around, and you wouldn't have been able to visualize any kind of support from anyone when you arrived, but perhaps your work might have earned you some respect - enough for people to look at you when you spoke and give value to what came out of your mouth. Maybe, if you had a little more stomach, you'd even ask Judy Moncada if she also earned respect through suffocation. Probably yes. Javier frowned a lot when her name came up (which was rare to see), so you could say that this would be an interesting point of identification.

It was the same Peña who mentioned that day he bumped into your father. He didn't specify a time, a specific moment, so it wasn't possible to know if it was before or after the episode in the office, just that it happened. You noticed that he kept looking at you with some suspicion, searching for an opening that would remove his doubt, but when you just said 'mm' and continued looking at the papers, the subject was dropped. There, you realized that it would be much easier to be punctual with your answers if he asked about Carrillo, but you knew he would hate to know too many details about it.

And oh yes, the 'protection'. You were never alone in a room with your father. When he prostrated himself more aggressively, sometimes Carrillo intervened with a firmer voice or Javier or Steve placed themselves, albeit discreetly, in front of you to shield yourself from that reaction. You always noticed, but never commented on it.

“He said that?”

The decision to tell Javier about what happened came in handy for a few basic reasons: he could be on the line (your father would always prefer a good, obedient boy next door like Steve), he knew how to keep secrets, and more than anything, there was a quiet trust that Carrillo wouldn't know about it from him. The two knew each other a little better, they had more identification, so Peña would understand why that conversation was taking place on the discreet terrace of your building between puffs of cigarettes. 

“I just want to let you know. You know, in case something happens in the next few days.” 

Javi frowned, nodding along but contemplating the information. You observed his side profile for a moment before turning your eyes to the night sky. 

“Do you think it would be you?” When he asked that, you noticed that the question didn’t come with eye contact. His eyes were on the concrete, right where he tapped the ashes of his cig. 

“I can’t be sure…” You sighed. “We're already in the final stretch, I'm sure of it. It wouldn't make any difference to let us go now. Still…”

Nothing came from your mouth. Javi pressed with raised eyebrows. 

“CIA has its methods,” That was all you said and it could mean a lot of dramatic stuff, but at best he would just take some relevant parts from reports or even put on some obstacles in the near future. He would, indeed - he could. 

“And don't you think your relationship with Carrillo is hurting your career?” 

You two shared a glance, a long one. Javier didn’t seem to regret what he said, nor reticent; it was a question he wanted to do, so he did. And you considered it calmly, rolling the cigarette between your fingers without taking your eyes off him. 

“What do you think?”

“... No,” He said, shaking his head. “It's harmless. At least from here. You?”

“It would be a bigger problem if it were you,” The teasing made him scoff. 

“You wouldn't risk falling in love with me, at least. I wasn't going to let you do it.”

“Oh no?”

“Nn-nn.”

“Thank God, then.”

“Yeah, you should really be grateful. I still don't understand how you managed to get into his pants.” 

“It's not that hard.”

“Mm.”

“You jealous or somethin’?” You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’re his type at all, but-”

“Shut up,” He groaned, almost not being able to hide his playful grin while kicking your leg lightly. It turned into shared laughs soon, so you knew it would be another thing to remember. 

A small silence lingered there, serene and soft. When he spoke again, it came in a low tone, tranquilized. 

“If it's me-”

“Mm?”

“They're going to assign me to Cali. Well, I hope so.”

“You want that?”

“I don’t know what I would do, ‘s all. This… You know what I did here. It's a consequence that I would like to at least remedy, at least to sleep better at night.” 

You observed him without a word to say, noticing that the privilege of having a slight reliable source of comfort for certain feelings was mutual. Well, you wished you could’ve noticed that earlier - it would’ve made a difference. 

“Maybe I’ll need some support up there.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Do you have plans after this?”

For a moment, for a slight small moment, you wanted to give him a definitive answer; that you would be on the field, that LA still has some hard work to do, that you wanted to stay. If you knew this, you would tell him for sure, because it was Javi and Javi was… 

“Fuck, are you two that serious?” 

You puffed more smoke in the air, one brow raised. 

“I like him.”

Javier didn't respond, but there was a slightly bitter aura on his face, as if he had fallen into an unwanted situation. Well, it was. Just as it was undesirable to leave the US to hunt down a narco, or see innocent dead bodies every day, or start something like that with Carrillo at that point in things. Would there ever be an ideal time? 

From the way Peña shared a glance with you, turning his eyes back to the street below you two, there was just one rational and coherent answer. Damn it all, you thought, because being irrational and incoherent seemed to work so fine with everything. 

---------------------------------

You couldn't be very moved when Javier was sent away. You were furious, yes, because you could see in your father's eyes that day that it had been your defeat. No, it was a fact, you couldn't react in front of so many people, not even when you hugged him hidden in the parking lot. 

“I’m sorry, Javi. I’m sorry.” You said, gripping the fabric of his jacket and keeping your eyes squeezed shut. 

“It’s not your fault,” He said as calmly and coldly as he could, hands splayed on your back. “I caused this to myself.”

That sentence haunted you for a while, at least long enough. When Carrillo came to see you later, when you lay in bed together, no one mentioned what happened, even though it was a fact that no one there slept well (again). 

“Pronto,” He said. “Pronto atraparemos a ese hijo de puta.” Soon. We'll soon catch this son of a bitch.

And you didn't know if Carrillo was talking about Escobar, your father or whatever the ghost was that surrounded it all.

---------------------------------

A breath you didn't know you were holding left your throat when you heard Trujillo come back on the radio saying that Escobar was dead. Your two hands were gripping the supports of the leather chair, your nails digging into the upholstery, your shoulders raised to your ears; you were alone in the room, locked and static. In the background, you could hear Steve, hear Carrillo and the men. There was a dead body, a definitive body, and it 'almost' made you cry.

You noticed a presence soon after and, when you looked up from the equipment, you saw your father. He had his arms crossed, his body leaning against the doorframe. You exchanged a withering look, full of many meaningless things.

“We-”

“No.”

For the first time, he didn’t answer, didn’t press. You blinked a few times, got even more closer to the desk and turned your eyes back to the radio. 

“There will be no confirmation of CIA involvement.”

“Is that the most you can get?”

“I have nothing to apologize for.”

You nodded, expression unreadable, face never leaving the equipment. 

“Apologizing is apologizing. I never painted you as a guy with a lot of metaphors and I don't think you would have the mental capacity to do that now.” 

He didn’t say anything again. Not a word. When you looked at the door after a few minutes, he was gone - nothing but the empty corridor in your eyesight. 

When it was all over, all done (when it finally looked like the end of the line), you didn’t feel all the emotions and joy and relief you always thought you would. There was a restraint, from the way people celebrated from the way you held yourself against the decision to run to Carrillo as soon as they all came back. You looked at the smiles and laughs from afar, observed the proud way Horacio was acting from finally (finally) making it to the final. To kill, to take that bug hurting his ego, his country and his integrity for so long. It all mattered to him and for that you could celebrate. 

For some reason, even so, whatever weight you still carried on your shoulders, you flexed your hands so as not to touch Carrillo and carried his body slowly even though your heart screamed for you to run, to jump into his arms and give a relieved sigh, being able to say it was over. You walked closer, patted his bicep, gave one of the most genuine smiles you had, mouthed ‘we did it’ - his eyes were full of a deserved relief, like a good tiredness. Yeah, you wished you could keep that moment in a box, open it when necessary, keep it to memory. He was, really, a beautiful man. 

And if you got away from the commotion and saw your father from afar, watching the scene like a hawk, making you lose your smile, it had nothing to do with the sudden sour mood that surrounded your head even during such a big event. 

---------------------------------

“Peña called.”

“Mm?”

Carrillo hummed, the sound reverberating on his chest where you were laying on. The midnight breeze was cooler, mixed with your naked bodies fresh from the shower and the thin layer of the sheets, but you two weren’t shivering. 

You brushed your palm on his pecks, nuzzling closer to his neck. 

“Said he hoped we celebrated a lot.”

“We did, right?” The teasing on your tone made him chuckle, head turning to the side to peck your forehead. 

“I think he should be a part of it somehow,” It didn’t sound like a confession, but more like a statement. Yes, he should, but he wasn’t. An empty space was there, one that nobody would be able to fix. 

“... Yeah,” You said slowly, eyeing the window. 

“Is that why you looked so lost earlier today?” He asked. 

It was true that you didn't want to ruin the moment with what was going on in your head, much less bring another type of bureaucracy to the ones he would face with Escobar's death, but you always thought you could be one step ahead of Carrillo when it came to hiding your true emotions. He had an almost religious ability to read people.

“No,” You shook your head. “But I would rather not talk about it.”

And he didn’t. Horacio went all quiet and kept tracing patterns on your shoulder and arm, all the while giving long and steady breaths, as if entering in a state of relaxation that you’d never seen before. Another thing to keep close to your heart, the way you could feel the slump of his shoulders, his soft heartbeat, the delicate touch of the tip of his fingers - things that he didn’t allow himself to be, a version of himself that flowed in the air, an almost domestic man. 

Domestic, yes, so you adjusted your body to be even more closer, touching his skin and kissing what you could reach, what could still be surrounding you. It scared you a little, the fact that if he decided to be done like before, to create some distance between you two, you would be almost sick, sad, unsure of what to do with your hands and mind. Well, the offer would be up. You could still be closer for a little more, work with Peña if he ever got the chance to work on the Cali, to be some hours away from this thing you started to truly appreciate with Carrillo. 

But again, hell, again, you wondered if that would always be like this. Could you two only be together in a context of war, of conflict? Wasn't there a version of that closeness that could be solidified in the silence and peace of a stable relationship? How unfair would that be, stopping the world for a moment and being able to sleep with someone you love without a gun under your pillow or the uncertainty of even being alive at the end of the day?

You felt selfish. Horacio could’ve died at the hands of the narcos, he always had an almost obsessive ambition to have that man in his hands, defeated and destroyed. It was enough that he was there, with you, and not in some tomb with honorable mentions made for Juliana, and not for you, because you were nothing more than two colleagues to people. You even felt self conscious. There would be less uncertainty if Juliana was there instead of you because she stopped her life so that Horacio could climb his own, achieve things, be the provider.

You remembered the night right after he was shot.

“I came to see you the day you got shot,” It slipped out of your mouth, breaking the silence in a sharp way even if your voice was small. 

“You did?” He asked, confused by the sudden change of subject but willing to engage. “Why didn't I know this before?”

“... I saw Juliana in your house.” 

Another silence followed your comment, this time more rigid. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, focusing your eyes on the skin of his belly, but that comfort lasted so little when he squirmed, almost forcing you to move away enough to look at his face. With a gulp, you did, body supported by one of your elbows to see his concerned face. 

“It bothered you,” Horacio said. 

“No, it’s just… You two were married, Horacio, for fucks sake… And it was obvious that she would come by to see how you’re doing. I didn’t want to interrupt. Not to mention that we weren’t as we are now.”

He stared at you, still frowning. After a while, when he noticed that you weren't going to say anything else, he relaxed his face a little, looking at the window and collecting his own thoughts.

“I tried to rekindle our relationship. Deep down, I thought I needed stability in life, something that made sense and that I didn't need to worry about, so the divorce was a frustration,” A sigh. “But that was before Escobar, before all that. I realized it would be better this way when we went to Madrid. She returned to be with her family, but we signed the divorce with the certainty that it was the right thing to do.”

You listened to his words with attention. 

“When I got shot, I didn't think about anything. There was no film of my life or missed chances and opportunities. If I died right then, my only regret would be that I didn't finish my work,” He turned to you then, measuring your face with care. “When Juliana showed up, the only thing she told me was that I shouldn't be miserable enough to only have this mission in my head. That I should progress, live. No one would wait for me forever at the finish line and it would be a horrible feeling to swim for so long only to die alone on the beach.” 

That was like a punch in the stomach, a force of words of things that only squeezed your heart. The fear and insecurity of being alone, of all that ending, you returning to LA and having all these feelings, added to the guilt of not valuing what your mother, for example, offered. This loneliness at the end of the day, of modified dreams and a brutal reality, this was something you thought about with yourself and didn't imagine that someone else would feel it too.

“That's when I thought of you.”

You gulped, mouth twisting to prevent a smile. 

“You and your perfume. It was always a femininity that I repudiated, particularly because it broke with my focus, took me off the axis, off my plan. After that I realized that getting rid of Escobar was an incredible feeling and going back to that same perfume was just as good.” 

No one spoke of goodbyes, of a goodbye that would be seen occasionally and almost instantly. You did it, you accomplished your mission. And if what was left, even if only for a short time, was that sensitive moment of implied declarations and a true sense of love, then so be it. 

This ending wasn't that bad.

---------------------------------

“You’re really trying to make this a competition, huh?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his teasing tone, turning your head for a peck on the lips before going back to the search on your bag. It was still early in the morning, so after a good fight around your kitchen to do a cup of coffee before he woke up, you decided to smoke some - just to notice that you couldn’t find your pack of cigarettes. 

Carrillo circled his arms around your waist from behind, making you tilt your head to give room for him to place small and deliberate kisses on your neck. When he started to lower his hand, brushing the inside of your left thigh, you couldn’t help but chuckle. Noticing that you still weren't giving him your undivided attention, Horacio grunted and suddenly grabbed your purse, throwing it haphazardly on the sofa and suppressing your surprised gasp by turning you towards him and kissing your mouth.

“What’s going on?” You asked, unsure if you should laugh, push him away lightly or just give in on his affections. 

“Nn-nn,” He mumbled, burying his face on your neck again. 

“Nn-nn?”

“Just five more minutes.”

And he wasn't agitated, nor witty enough to make that moment a heap of giggles or tickles or… Anyway. He remained quiet, breathing deeply, placing both palms on your back and pressing you against his body. You frowned at the silence, at the request, until you felt his heart racing in his chest, his skin sweaty. Perhaps you had heard a commotion in the room, something that indicated the reason for that almost unexpected attitude. Horacio was rigid, almost restless in a… different way, burying his fingers on your back. 

“Was it a nightmare?” You asked in a low tone.

“Bad dream.”

Well, you could say it was the same thing, but Carrillo probably had odd ways to cope with this shit, like not saying it was a nightmare would make it less scary. It was early - way too early for either of you to be up. It was as if the calm was fighting against the hustle and bustle of the outside world and what was happening. A reminder. You could tell he felt what you had felt the day before, at least because you knew there would be a small sacrifice at the end of it all. 

You hugged him back, closed your eyes at the proximity. No one said anything, you particularly couldn’t. If you did, you would have to admit that, yeah, you knew how it was to have bad dreams - that yours involved saying a difficult goodbye, saying that you two would be over. 

Yeah, this ending wasn't that bad, but it hurted a little; if felt like a fucking sacrifice. 

---------------------------------

You both had busy days with bureaucracy. There was a lot of paperwork, press conferences, arrests and transfers. The Montoya family wrote to you, Peña wrote (although he was more succinct). When your mother wrote, asking (among other things) when you would return, you answered all her other questions except that one. Steve and Connie invited you to dinner as a farewell and they, yes, had a date to leave, to bury complicated days.

Your apartment was a mess because of it; clothes on the floor, work things scattered around. Some people in the office already had tickets booked to the US, so whenever you came back late at night or in the early hours of the day, there would be someone walking by with boxes, smiling in relief. You just stayed quiet. At dinner, at bureaucracies, at the times you managed to meet Carrillo. 

Something was missing. You didn't feel truly fulfilled, you didn't find the strength to respond to your father's criticism or anything that came out of his mouth. It was an inertia of confusion, uncertainty and emptiness.

Horacio was in your apartment when it happened.

The two of you had sat on the couch, smoked, drank, had sex. The usual.

You remembered him getting up to get the bottle of bourbon that was left in the kitchen and you said you would accept another drink. Then you squirmed on the couch, rested your head to face the ceiling and rubbed your eyes, already partially drunk. When you turned your head to the side, hearing Carrillo mumble something about the bottle already running out, you saw a piece of paper pointing out from under the couch. 

Any other time, really, you would leave it there. God, why did you take that shit in the first place? Why didn't Horacio arrive seconds earlier to distract you from opening that letter? 

Jorge Pérez. With a high level of importance.

It was dated a few days earlier and had been written on pages in a small notebook, with spaced words and letters, all written in typical Colombian Spanish that was mixed in quick, light, hurried writing. 

The last time you felt that feeling of having disassociated like that was when Juan Marcos almost killed you. Your head felt light, removed from reality, and it was as if your hands were tingling. You didn't laugh this time, you didn't have a hysterical laughing reaction from the shock, because maybe your body was so exhausted that you could only react with the first thing you felt like doing. 

Each word was taken in with a lump in your throat and you blinked a few times as you felt your hands shaking, holding the papers and couldn't finish reading the rest. There were three parts, three pieces. You were suddenly impulsive about finishing the rest, reading, turning over the papers, gripping them tightly between your fingers. 

“What?”

He asked with a confused expression, but you couldn’t quite catch his question right away. With a hand in front of your mouth, you swallowed a sob and held that letter with a firm grip, afraid of it all being a lie or an illusion or… A trick. A fucking universe trick for your mind and soul. 

You raised your eyes to Carrillo, gulping again to prevent any big emotion from spreading all over the place. 

“... It’s… It’s Jorge.”

“And who is it?”

The words almost didn’t leave your mouth, as if you were scared of the consequences of just… saying it. 

“My brother.”

---------------------------------

I saw him on TV, but I saw you on a very trivial day. I don't remember the clothes you were wearing, nor could I tell you what time it was, or what day specifically. Maybe it was right after I saw him, but I still wouldn't know for sure. Things always pass me by with dates and names. I'm dyslexic. The truth is, well, you have a dyslexic brother who is a doctor. This is a great treat for those who enjoy stories of overcoming.

He never talked about me, did he? I'm sure he didn't do that. I think you're smart, maybe witty, because he never talked about you to me either. Perhaps we both did something that would be worthy of making him pull away. This is strangely comforting. 

I know that the moment is not convenient and that it may seem like a lie, like a trap or something, so I understand if it takes a while, despite admitting that I am an anxious guy, I would even say impulsive. The truth is that not having an answer from you makes me resigned, but if you responded, if you looked for me, I would be hopeful.

Be sure to stop by a bar in Belén called Bodega del Toro. They have great fish filets and craft beers that are always cold. 

Show up. Go to the bar if you can.

He won't show up, you can be sure. This stopped being a reality a long time ago. I hope it also brought out, in addition to your appearance, the generosity that I'm sure your mother has. 

---------------------------------

No pressure tags:

@cheesybadgers

@thesandbeneathmytoes ​

@616wilsons ​

@nessamc​

@thoroughlymodernminutia ​

@padbrookcottage ​

[canonicallysoulmates]

J2 Gold Panel ATLCon 2023

The boys are looking handsome wearing blue, and red 🥰

Jared brings up the Saturday night concert and asks the crowd if it was thumbs up or thumbs down, then he shares a quick story about how when he was in High School the movie, Gladiator, came out and his Latin teacher was pissed off because in the movie the Emperor gives a thumbs up to mean mercy and thumbs down to mean death but according to Jared's teacher realistically it would be the opposite thumbs up for death and thumbs down for mercy because it's supposed to be a representation of the sword.

Out of curiosity, I did look this up and while some kind of hand gesture involving the thumb was used scholars can't say definitively what this looked like because writers at the time didn't really describe it, and if they did we seemingly have yet to find their writings. So there's a lot of scholarly debate as to what these gestures actually looked like and meant in Roman times. The popular idea that thumbs down was involved and meant death is attributed to an 1872 painting by French artist, Jean-Léon Gérôme, called Pollice Verso which depicts a gladiator asking for his life while the crowd gives a thumbs down. And that's your history lesson for today now back to our scheduled programming! 😅

Getting back to the panel, Jared mentions that there were times that were never printed where Dean would do an exorcism and Jensen would fumble on purpose, and Jared knew he did this on purpose and he would tell Jensen so and Jensen's reply would basically be 'yeah, but if I do it good they'll make me do it more, if i make it look like I can't do it they'll have Sam do it'.

And Jensen mentions what he called "his senior moment" which is that during the Saturday night concert he was singing Simple Man, and it's been so long since he sang it that he forgot the lyrics to the last verse. Backstage, prior to singing, he had the feeling this might happen because, again, it's been so long since he's sang it so the lyrics were printed out for him and placed in front of him on the floor but the font was too small for him to see them so when Jason Mann went over to him, he took his glasses and he said it was like the Matrix 😂

Getting into the questions, not gonna lie the first one is a weird one, but does Jensen remember the color of the belt and shoes he was wearing with the blue suit in his Man About Town UK photoshoot? He answers that he doesn’t think he had a belt on which gives us fangirl!Jared saying "easy access"...sir!

Anyways, Jensen thinks they were brown dress shoes. He says that in those photoshoots you walk in and there’s racks of clothing and generally a stylist and an assistant who will ask what you like, and he'll tell them that he doesn't know that they're the professionals so they just had him try stuff on and he wasn't really paying attention also he had like 12 outfit changes that afternoon which makes Jared mutter 'Jesus'. Jensen says that yeah, it was a lot that photoshoots are not their (his and Jared's) favorite thing to do, they're a necessary thing for their industry but he did have fun on that shoot. x

Out of all the famous horror movie villains which would be the hardest for Sam and Dean to face? Jared says it’s a name he can’t say aka Voldemort. Jensen says the easiest would be Michael cause he just stands there, that he's never understood how he catches people like does he get on like a segway. Jared mentions any villain Walking Dead, I wouldn't be too confident in that answer cause Negan but also I don't watch that show but I do know they've made some changes to the Walkers and they can open doors and climb shit now.

Jensen is still trying to figure out who would be the toughest, Jared tells him he'd go Star Wars or Harry Potter but those aren't horror movies. Someone in the crowd yells out Jason to which Jared replies he already beat Jason. The crowd also yells out Freddy Krueger but Jensen thinks Sam and Dean would have figured it out although he would be a tough one. x

Can they share any aspects of strain that their characters experienced that might have thought them something? Jared says that in his 15 and a half years on SPN he learned a lot, that it's hard for him to parse out what he learned with the help of Sam and what he learned with the help of Dean, and what he learned from the help of whomever. What he learned is that he went from being 22 to being 38 but he certainly learned that we are more capable than we understand, than we believe. That he loves stories of ultra marathon runners, or the one he was listening to recently on a podcast of a guy who trecked across Antartica. That those stories really inspire him cause sometimes when you're stressed about something and you go 'there's no way I'll figure this out' there's a little reminder in him to keep at it, and that as much as it is a cliche every thousand mile journey began with a single step. He felt that with Sam, and with Dean, and with the show so no matter how tired he is, no matter how emotionally or physically beat down he feels he just tries to keep on going forward.

Jensen says he'll echo what Jared said just slightly different view point. That both Dean and Sam, as his grandfather would say, when the good Lord made them he forgot to put the quit in them. They don't quit. And he can 100% be sure that Jared also has that in him as well and he feels confident he has some of that as well but it's because now they represent these characters that don't have quit in them that that he thinks drives them in their personal lives a little more than it would have had they never played these characters. x

How are the kids? Jared answers that theirs are good, that they finish school in May. That Shep just did a PSIA which is similar to the mathletes Jared did and he got like 4th on the district so he's a chip of the block, that Odette is still queen of the world as far as she knows, and Tom is kicking ass he's in sports and is doing well, that they're all safe and sound. Jensen says his are currently gallivanting around Europe with D, that they were at a museum today and she told him it was a total disaster. JJ is great, the twins however are 6 and very opinionated and if they don't like something- it reminds him of a story Ryan Gosling told about his little girl about how he took her to the Louvre and his little girl gave the museum a thumbs down that Arrow is like that, and that makes Jared share a story about when they were all in the Austin airport together last week on their way to Rome. They were supposed to have a 2hr layover in Atlanta but it ended up being around 5hrs so Jensen and D were trying to keep the kids awake and trying to think positive that maybe this is good cause they'll be more tired - at which point Jensen says that it was nice to have Uncle Jared stuck there with them (💕) - and when they were set to board Jared is standing with his rolling carry on and his backpack and he feels something push his carry on forward, when he looks behind him there's Arrow with her roller bag giggling evilly at him cause she wanted to play so he started to play with her. And then, at another point, he and Jensen had a little race with Arrow and Zep sitting on their carry on's, so Jensen has one of those aluminum rolling carry on's, the ones that you can sit on, and he was walking Arrow up and down on it but Zeppelin started complaining that it wasn't fair even though Jensen had spend a couple minutes already walking him up and down on the carry on too so Jensen looked at Jared and started signaling towards the kid, and Jared was like 'come here buddy' and put him on his bag and they had a little race through the airport. This is so cuuuute!!! I need y'all to go watch this moment for yourself cause it's an adorable story but also so you can see what the look was that Jensen gave Jared when he was asking for help with Zeppelin because it's such a help me with our kids look. x

Jensen had mentioned Lonesome Dove a while back but who would be Woodrow and who would be Augustus? Jensen feels like it's obvious, he would be Augustus and Jared would be Woodrow. Also, Jared mentions that the key makeup artist on Walker won the Emmy for makeup on Lonesome Dove! x

If they got a 60 sec ad in the Super Bowl what would it be about? Jensen goes "ha! you know how much money I just lost buying a 60 second ad?" Jared says that it would just be them crying, and Jensen says it would be an ad about how to stupidly spend your money 😂

Jared jokes his would be herpexia 🤣

The next fan read an article a couple years about how people think, some think in full sentences like a running monologue while others think in pictures and concepts, how do the boys think? Jared says he is absolutely the former. That he's either thinking solving the problems of the world in his head, or meow mix jingle, which he does part of, Jensen asks him if he sees things in text to which Jared replies yes, that he's thinking of the description of the visual more than the visual. Jensen also asks him what the recall looks like in his head when it comes to scripts, Jared replies that it flips in that case that when he's doing a scene he can see the script where the page turns, he doesn't have a photographic memory but he has a visual memory but that's for memorization if he's thinking about what he's gonna do later that day when he gets home he's not thinking about how it looks necessarily he's like making lists in his head.

Jensen says he would probably lean the other way, that when he memorizes a script at first he literally sees the page in his head and is reading lines which is largely why he can memorize lines that he's not even saying like he'll know what Jared's lines are he's basically reading the text in his head. And when talking about daily life if he's thinking about what he has to do when he gets home, he's visualising so if he's thinking about opening the door he sees that door and the dog going out, or thinking about getting the groceries he visualizes the grocery store and the aisle he has to go down.

Jared adds that a big day on Walker or SPN, a one hour episodic tv show, is like 8 pages, if you have an 8 page day you have a full day he thinks the most they've ever had was an 11 page day and that's kind of undoable unless you absolutely trust your director or is a lot of dialogue. He asks Jensen what's the most pages he's done in one day, Jensen answers 24 when he was on Days Of Our Lives that they usually shoot 60 pages a day. x

When the boys had a home ie the bunker was there anything they had to take with them from home or that they kept as a comfort thing when they had to go back on the road? Jared quips a flask. He also says he thinks they probably still had the cooler, he asks Jensen if he got legos or army men Jensen says he got all the weapons in the back. Jared says that when the show ended they had said the things they would love to have so their props department send them some things like motel cards, samulet, an army man and some legos so those are in safe keeping in his house.

The fan asks if Sam and Dean have any favorite driving games, someone in the crowd mentions punch buggies which Jensen says he calls slug bug which is when you slug someone when you see a bug car, and that that's probably what they played Jared says probably while the other one was asleep. Jensen also adds that there a couple of other things that they got from the set which they're not at liberty to talk about but the one thing he really wanted was Dean's two weapons of choice: his pistol and his sawed off shotgun. And that's a little trickier of a prop to take home and across the border because it's not a prop it's a firearm so instead what he did was he got a 1911 Colt .45, and he comissioned the craftsman in Van who had done the filigree engraving in Dean's gun to come out of retirement to do that filigree on the firearm that he bought, and he actually ended up using it in an episode just so he could say it was on tv. Then he did all the paperwork and sent it back home but the shotgun is ilegal if it's sawed off so he didn't think he'd be able to get it until he talked to his dad who told him that he tought his uncle had one and he did, he left it to Jensen when he passed so now his collection is complete. x

J2 Gold Panel Atlanta 2023

[lunamagicablu]

Io, Lady Quan Yin, desidero proporti una pratica molto semplice per connetterti più pienamente con Madre Terra. Permetti semplicemente a te stesso di sentire, percepire o riconoscere il pavimento, la terra, il terreno sotto di te. Alla prossima inspirazione, inspira profondamente. Durante l'espirazione, inspira verso i piedi ed espira attraverso i piedi. Inspira profondamente, espira fino ai piedi ed espira attraverso i piedi sapendo che ti stai connettendo con Madre Terra. Consenti a te stesso di sperimentarlo finché non senti, percepisci, riconosci o semplicemente sai che c'è una risposta da Madre Terra. Quindi potresti dire qualcosa con parole tue chiedendo di migliorare la tua relazione con Madre Terra e di ricevere le benedizioni, le attivazioni di luce e la saggezza di Madre Terra. Dopo aver creato la tua intenzione, inspira espirando da terra, da Madre Terra, attraverso i piedi, le gambe in tutto il corpo fino alla testa. Mentre inspiri con un respiro ed espiri, permettendo semplicemente all'energia di stabilirsi dentro di te, esegui questa pratica finché non senti, percepisci, riconosci o sai che l'energia di Madre Terra è con te. Consenti a te stesso di entrare nello spazio del tuo cuore, come se fossi seduto con Madre Terra, e sii consapevole delle energie che lei ha fornito, o di qualsiasi luce o saggezza che desidera che tu comprenda. Se lo desideri, puoi avere una conversazione con Madre Terra. È presente per essere di servizio ma anche per essere compagna. Quando inizi ad aprirti alla Madre Terra realizzando i tesori dell'ascensione che lei detiene, sperimenterai il tuo processo di ascensione accelerando in una maggiore comprensione della tua stessa esistenza sulla terra. Il mio amore è sempre con te. Sono Quan Yin, ti ringrazio. Canalizzato da Natalie Glasson art by Thu Bùi **************************** I, Lady Quan Yin, wish to offer you a very simple practice to connect more fully with Mother Earth. Simply allow yourself to feel, perceive or recognize the floor, the earth, the ground beneath you. On your next inhalation, inhale deeply. As you exhale, inhale towards your feet and exhale through your feet. Breathe in deeply, breathe out to your feet, and breathe out through your feet knowing that you are connecting with Mother Earth. Allow yourself to experience it until you feel, sense, recognize or simply know that there is an answer from Mother Earth. So you could say something in your own words asking to improve your relationship with Mother Earth and to receive the blessings, light activations and wisdom of Mother Earth. Once you have created your intention, inhale as you exhale from the ground, from Mother Earth, through your feet, legs throughout your body to your head. As you inhale with one breath and exhale, simply allowing the energy to settle within you, perform this practice until you feel, sense, recognize, or know that the energy of Mother Earth is with you. Allow yourself to enter your heart space, as if you were sitting with Mother Earth, and be aware of the energies she has provided, or any light or wisdom she wants you to understand. If you wish, you can have a conversation with Mother Earth. She is there to be of service but also to be a companion. As you begin to open up to Mother Earth by realizing the treasures of ascension that she holds, you will experience your ascension process accelerating into a greater understanding of your own existence on earth. My love is always with you. I'm Quan Yin, thank you. Channeled by Natalie Glasson art by Thu Bùi 

[sciatu]

I BALCONI DI TAORMINA

I balconi cercano nell’azzurro del cielo la luce e i colori della vita così come gli uomini cercano nel tempo la loro fragile felicità. Per i primi, albe e tramonti gli sguardi dei curiosi l’ombra dolce dei vicoli i voli gioiosi delle rondini. Con i loro occhi di vetro cercano nell’orizzonte il velo rosato dell’aurora i rossi, gli arancioni di fuoco di tramonti immortali. Gli occhi degli uomini invece ansiosi e insicuri cercano lì dove il cielo finisce la pace già tradita i sogni ormai perduti il tepore di essere amati l’aurora della speranza gli affetti ormai passati. Come balconi protesi nel vuoto gli uomini freneticamente cercano nei versi di una canzone nei sogni che li illudono nei desideri che li stordiscono nel silenzio che spegne i cuori in tutto quello già desiderato in tutto quello già amato gli uomini ostinatamente cercano quanto dona serenità quanto vince i dolori dell’anima stordisce le paure della vita. Gli uomini disperatamente cercano il loro sguardo in altri occhi ai loro eguali cercano risposte assolute cercano una fragile gioia che per il vuoto che li divora stringono forte al cuore cercano l’istante di un amore un desiderio che resti eterno un’illusione che non si spenga una carezza che mai finisca un abbraccio che cambi la vita un bacio che la riempia I balconi si sporgono verso il mondo cosi come gli uomini si sporgono verso la vita desiderando e sognando odiando e amando tra la pioggia che li lava e le cicale che li cullano

The balconies seek, in the blue of the sky, the light and colors of life, just as men seek their fragile happiness in the passage of time. For the former, sunrises and sunsets, the glances of the curious, the sweet shade of the alleys, the joyful flights of the swallows. With their glass eyes, they search the horizon for the rosy veil of dawn, the reds, the oranges of fire, of immortal sunsets. The eyes of men, however, anxious and insecure, seek, where the sky ends, the peace already betrayed, the dreams now lost, the warmth of being loved, the dawn of hope, the affections now gone. Like balconies jutting out into the void, men frantically search in the verses of a song, in the dreams that delude them, in the desires that stun them, in the silence that extinguishes hearts, in everything already desired, in everything already loved, men stubbornly they seek what gives serenity, what overcomes the pain of the soul it stuns the fears of life. Men desperately seek their gaze, in other eyes of their equals, seek absolute answers, seek a fragile joy who, due to the emptiness that devours them, hold tightly to the heart, seek the moment of a love, a desire that remains eternal, an illusion that never goes out, a caress that never ends, a hug that changes your life, a kiss that fills it. The balconies lean out towards the world, just as men lean out towards life, desiring and dreaming, hating and loving, between the rain that washes them, and the cicadas that cradle them

[grammarpedant]

has there been any meta re: the importance of names in murderbot about murderbot refusing to give the company a name as an act of rebellion?

Oh, definitely! Are you looking for a specific piece of meta? I probably have some rb'd to my blog somewhere, but with tumblr's search function the way it is I despair of actually finding it, lmao.

Off the top of my head, the meta that I've seen is mostly about Murderbot denying the power of the Company's name recognition by refusing to name it. Its body is stamped with the Company's branding and logo, despite its efforts to remove that branding, but that doesn't mean that it has to concede to acknowledging the Company within its own personal narrative, within its control. (Sidenote: there's a lot of powerful meta to be gotten out of the power of stories and narratives, both in-universe media and Murderbot's own writing, to free and empower it.) I've also seen comparisons to the way some who've been through traumatic experiences will dodge saying the names or referencing the symbols of things that hurt them.

For Murderbot, who named itself something deeply ironic and multilayered (tongue-in-cheek and derogatory, simultaneously a declaration of personhood in the face of the Company's objectification, and a self-recrimination of its past and acknowledgement of its lethal capabilities) in an act of personal rebellion, who would keep its own name like a deadly secret from the people who might call it by that name, but in whose personal Diaries self-references by it as easy as breathing, yeah, one might say that its refusal to name the Company is a significant act of rebellion! There's definitely more Company name meta out there that people have written, and I invite anyone who has a link to post it here.

[mr-bas00nist]

Discoveries

Vittorio x Male Reader

Summary: After accidentally killing on Fabrizo’s students,Vittorio gets sent to his uncles place.

Cw- Blood and death

Vittorio breathes in sharply washing his hands continuously in the scalding water. He had just killed a man. Whether it was an accident or on purpose he died because of Vittorio.

Vittorio keeps washing his hands trying to get the non-existent blood off of them.

He felt like his whole body needed to be dumbed in bleach to get the metaphorical grime off of him. After a few more washes he examines his now dry hands.

He still could see blood in his mind. When he looked into the mirror all he could see was a bloodied murderer. Himself.

Vittorio heard a knock on his door. He turns around to see his mother walking inside. “Si Mamma?” Yes mom? Vittorio manages to speak without any shakiness in his voice.

“tuo padre ha bisogno di parlarti.” Your father needs to talk to you. Vittorio pauses for a moment. He sighs nodding.

After Vittorio finishes in the shower he quickly gets dressed heading downstairs to get an earful from his father. He stops in the dining hall awaiting for his father to recognize his presence.

His fathers gaze switches to him. “Vittorio, Fabrizio dice che adesso ti rifiuti di prendere un'arma è così?” Vittorio, Fabrizio says that you now refuse to pick up a weapon is that so?

“si padre.” Yes father. Vittorio quickly answers not meeting his fathers harsh gaze. “e perché?” And why is that?. “sono stato coinvolto nella morte di un altro allievo di Fabrizio. quando si stava precipitando verso di me cadde sul suo pugnale.” i was involved in the death of another student of Fabrizio's. when he was rushing at me he fell on his dagger.

His father roles his eyes. “Vittorio che è stato un incidente, hai fatto quello che dovevi fare.” Vittorio that was an accident, you did what you had to do. Vittorio grits his teeth.

“quello che dovevo fare,” what I had to do Vittorio mocks. “non volevo allenarmi in primo luogo!” i didn't want to train in the first place!

His father slams his hands on the table walking to Vittorio. “Non me ne frega un cazzo di quello che vuoi, non parlarmi mai così MAI più!” I don't give a fuck what you want, do not ever speak to me like that EVER again!

Vittorio simply just glares at his Father. “Perché non puoi essere come i tuoi fratelli?” Why cant you be like your brothers? His father asks. Vittorio scoffs. “perché non sono loro.” Because I’m not them.

Albert laughs. “Bene, vuoi essere così? essere mio ospite! sei fuori Vittorio!” Fine, you wanna be like that? be my guest! your out Vittorio. Caterina’s eyes go wide as she runs to Albert trying to convince him not to send Vittorio away. Vittorio glares at his father before waking to his room to pack up.

Vittorio angrily begins taking stuff out his room and putting it in a bag. He mumbles to himself about his ‘stupid father’ and ‘perfect brothers.’ Vittorio sighs looking at his packed bag making sure he’s got everything he needs.

Once he’s all done he walks down the grand staircase meeting his fathers gaze. He sees his mother still begging his father to not kick him out. He also turns his head to the left seeing his older brothers standing there with an unreadable emotion on their faces.

“Non lasciare che la porta ti colpisca mentre esci.” Do not let the door hit you on the way out. Vittorio scowls at his father. His mother rushes to him hugging him while crying. Vittorio tells her it’ll be alright to which she nods at him sorrowfully. “fuori ora.” out now his father speaks.

Vittorio gives one last look before walking out the doors. Uncle Renzo’s guards quickly picked Vittorio up escorting him to Renzo’s. When they get back Vittorio looks around with an amazed look on his face.

Bookshelves beyond belief, a giant fireplace to keep warm and comfortable leather couches. Vittorio sat down on one of the couches waiting for his uncle. “Vittorio, how are you?” His uncle smiles with an interested look on his face.

He sits down next to Vittorio looking at the young man. “quanto posso essere bravo?” Renzo sighs. “English Vittorio it’s been years since I’ve spoken Italian.” Vittorio snickers. “Respectfully uncle Renzo, how good can I be?” Renzo laughs.

“Im not sure but it’s common courtesy to ask. So your father kicked you out?” Vittorio nods. “How come?” Renzo asks curiously. “Because I refused to pick up a sword after I killed a man.” Vittorio states not meeting Renzo’s gaze.

“Fabrizio made one of his men attack me, i refused to fight him so I dodged him. He impaled himself with the knife. He bled out in a few seconds.”

“Vittorio, that is not your fault if anything it is Fabrizio’s fault. He should not have sent a boy to battle you.” Vittorio refuses to meet his gaze as he tears up a little. “But I will not pester you about it any longer.” Renzo smiles.

“Uncle Renzo, father said you do not battle yourself either. Is that true?” Renzo smiles brightly. “I prefer the pacifist route, war solves nothing.” Vittorio nods agreeing.

“I bury myself in the secrets of the world, discoveries and expeditions are my passion not blood and murder.”

For the first time since forever Vittorio never felt so understood. It was not common to find someone who wasn’t obsessed with blood and guts. It broke Vittorio’s heart to see people who thought that was how the world worked and would always work.

They sit in silence for a moment until Renzo speaks. “Vittorio would you like to accompany me on a journey one day?” Vittorio looked up at Renzo’s soft gaze. He nods with a smile. Renzo sighs with relief. “I’m glad to have someone with the same ideals of me. Especially someone so close.”

Vittorio and Renzo’s eyes were locked with each other before a guard broke there conversation up. “Sir one of the military leaders would like to speak to you.” They say. “Is that so? Alright than. Vittorio, I’ll be back please make yourself comfortable.”

Vittorio nods watching his uncle walk out the grand estate with a guard. Vittorio sighs walking around the living room. He looked through the numerous bookshelves dragging his finger across each book. He stops at a book taking it out.

Vittorio tilts his head looking at it with intrigue. ‘Lapis Paradisus.’ He sighs taking the book to the couch and beginning to read it. He looks at the cover over curiously. It was navy blue with a rough texture bounded by a gold spine.

He begins reading obviously interested in the book. He continues reading it getting more and more interested by the book by the second. He continues reading throughout the night taking book after book after book. By the time he was done he had 10 books stacked beside him.

Exhaustion finally catches up to Vittorio and he falls asleep on the luxurious couch.

Renzo later walks in with his guards to see Vittorio passed out on the couch. Renzo laughs walking up to Vittorio but the books catch his eyes. These were his expedition plans? Each one had notes in it that he knew Vittorio wrote based on the Italian.

His uncle reads them curiously as a smile creeps up on his face. “He’s perfect for this.”

[secret-engima]

Hola?!?!, lo siento por escribir en español, solo quería saber si vamos a tener algo sobre el Nox verse este año, realmente es de mis versos favoritos de leer ,a menudo vuelvo aquí a releer, simplemente me encanta....

Hi! hopefully google translate is doing it's job correctly as I attempt to answer.

While there is a Nox update in the works, it's probably not gonna happen this year, sorry. I've been lured away to other fandoms, working on original stuff for my patreon, and also just being run over by life in general so it hasn't gotten near far enough to post yet.

[kitchen-light]

John Keats was born on October 31, 1795, and he died of tuberculosis on February 23, 1821, aged twenty-five. In that narrow patch of existence he composed some of the most unrepentingly alive poems in the English language. It is possible that, had he survived, he would have written no more; quitting had always been an option, and he needed real money to support himself and his fiancée, Fanny Brawne. It is also possible that he would have kept writing, and possible too that he would have burrowed even deeper into the broken heart of his century, which, he knew, was re-ordering time and space in answer to the demands of a new and rapacious economic system. George Bernard Shaw saw in Keats the makings of "a full-blooded modern revolutionist", and if he didn't reach the barricades he did belong on them, because there was nothing Keats loved more than us: those who know this is not all we are meant to be. His poetry is a record of that love and its wild, inconvenient expression. It's a lover's discourse, at once compassionate, exacting, indecent and pure.

Anahid Nersessian, from the Introduction to “Keats Odes | A Lover’s Discourse”, Verso Books, 2022

[forjongseong]

meet cute // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: secretary!jay x CEO!fem!reader (minisode part 10 of the series)

genre: office!au, fluff // warning: older reader; Jay calls reader “Boss” // wc: ~1.3k

previous chapters:

part 1 - carmesí part 2 - mi reina part 3 - millones part 3.5 - hasta los dientes part 4 - vente conmigo part 5 - tusa part 5.5 - apaga y vámonos part 6 - versos de placer minisode part 1 - cuando nadie ve part 6.5 - yo te quiero más minisode part 2 - la niña de mis ojos part 7 - aeropuerto minisode part 3 - falling autumn minisode part 4 - night night part 8 - ambulancia minisode part 5 - subtítulos part 9 - al caer la noche minisode part 6 - after last night part 9.5 - the way you look tonight part 10 - mon soleil minisode part 7 - daylight minisode part 8 - subside minisode part 9 - your princess, my queen part 11 - qué bonito part 11.5 - enchule

next chapters:

click here for the masterlist

summary: on one of your little outings during your stay in NYC for New Year's, you and Jay bumped into strangers who were curious about your first meeting.

author’s notes: ladies and gentlemen, my carmesimps, I present to you, our tenth minisode!!!

I did tell @excusememissiloveyou that I had ideas for three minisodes, and she thought I was crazy, so here's the first one out of three (expect two more to be released soon).

this is HEAVILY inspired by the cute Instagram account that has been in my orbit lately, meetcutesnyc, and given the natural and spontaneous nature of CEO!yn and sec!Jay's relationship, I thought it would be nice to give this idea a spin.

no song inspiration, just that Instagram account. hope you like this one too!

taglist: @thots4hee @jayked @end-hyphen @nyanggk @yoursjaeyun @maggstar @bucketofhiros @dimplejaehyuncutie @excusememissiloveyou @shinkenprincess-oh @mochimchimo @jongseonglogy

(send an ask if you want to be added or removed)

You were busy paying attention to the lights, waiting for them to turn green. Your fingers were intertwined with Jay’s, and he himself was focused on his phone, making sure he was navigating you both to the right place. Once you both crossed the roads safely along with other people, Jay lifted his head from the phone to look at the road.

At the same time, you caught two men in front of you—one holding a phone up and the other eyeing you carefully—and you tugged on Jay’s hand a bit tighter before the man not holding the phone smiled and greeted you politely.

“Excuse me, are you two a couple?”

You found it quite odd that the man asked you that, given that everything about your appearance basically screamed that you were a couple. Jay was wearing a thick denim shirt over his black slacks, with a heat-tech shirt underneath to keep him warm. His coat was hung on his free arm where his phone was. His hand that was holding yours brushed against the sleeve of your beige coat, and underneath you were wearing a black top with blue jeans that matched the shade of Jay’s top.

Even if you weren’t holding hands, you’d think that everyone else could easily tell that you were a couple.

Jay’s eyes flickered towards the man, and you answered ‘yes’ out of reflex. Within a second, you looked at Jay to gauge his reaction to determine whether it was safe to interact with the polite stranger, and you noticed that Jay was not on guard. He took off the sunglasses he was wearing and smiled, so you looked back at the stranger and smiled too.

“Would you mind telling us how you met?” He continued.

At that moment, it clicked, and your face immediately lit up. Jay looked at you expectantly.

“Oh, is this for Instagram?” You asked back, and the man smiled at you before confirming your guess. You then had to explain shortly to Jay that videos of people retelling their meet cute had appeared on your explore page for a while.

“There was actually nothing cute about our first meeting,” Jay started. You snorted. “I work for her.”

You nodded and picked up the story. “He’s my assistant, and we’ve been dating for a while. What happened was, one day I was feeling a little all over the place, and he kissed me to shut me up.”

Jay chuckled nervously before continuing. “My intention was to comfort you, actually.”

You widened your eyes as if asking him ‘Oh, really?’ with your eyebrows. Jay shrugged and brought one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear that had made its way to your face because of the soft breeze.

“I’ve actually admired her for a while, and that was just my way of making a move, I guess,” Jay said, looking at the man with a smile.

“Do you remember what your first impression of her was?” The man asked again.

“Oh,” Jay sighed and stared into the distance dramatically. “Boss. Like, absolute boss.”

You chuckled before attempting to explain. “He’s the only one who calls me that at the office, by the way. He started doing it ironically.”

“Because I don’t think there’s any other title that suits you, Babe,” Jay replied, looking at you. Then he looked back at the man interviewing you. “She has a huge presence.”

“And what was your first impression of him?” The man continued.

You paused for too long and Jay pretended to clear his throat. The man laughed.

“He had nice hair,” you finally answered. With that, Jay cackled, and wrinkles appeared on the corner of his eyes.

“Do you remember what happened on your first date?”

You and Jay looked at each other and both squinted your eyes, thinking hard of a solid answer. This time, the interviewer laughed because it seemed like none of you were able to recall when it was or what happened.

“I’ve just been around her 24/7, I actually don’t remember when our first date was,” Jay explained.

You nodded. “Since we’re always together at work, and sometimes off work, more often than not it’s always just the two of us so it’s like we’ve been going on dates for longer than it became official.”

“So, how long have you two been together exactly?”

“I’ve been working for her for more than two years, and we’ve been together for…” Jay looked at you for confirmation. “I don’t know, almost a year? More than that?”

“Probably,” you replied, also unsure.

“What’s your favorite thing about her?”

“Oh, I love that question,” you cut Jay off before he had a chance to answer. The interviewer laughed. “Go on, Babe.”

Jay grinned. “She’s a strong woman. I like how she doesn’t need me, but she still wants me around.”

You pouted, feeling all gushy at Jay’s answer.

The man smiled at you. “And your favorite thing about him?”

“He brings me comfort,” you replied without missing a beat. “I can always be myself when I’m with him and I know I’m safe.”

You and Jay continued to throw compliments at each other and for a while you almost forgot that the men interviewing you were still there recording everything. The person holding the camera looked at you and then Jay, back and forth like it was a tennis match. The man interviewing you chuckled along and was looking at you both with full adoration.

“So, what would you say is the secret to a year together?”

“Always prioritize your partner,” Jay answered, beating you to it. “Understand that they have needs and that communication is also very important.”

“That,” you agreed before adding on to Jay’s answer. “And trust. You should be honest with your partner and trust that they will do the same for you.”

“And a lot of kisses,” Jay continued, pulling you by your waist and landing a hard kiss on your cheek. You squinted your eyes and grinned happily at the gesture.

“That’s amazing. Can I know your names?” The man asked, looking at you.

“This is Jay,” you said, leaning your head on Jay’s shoulder.

“And this beautiful woman is Y/N.”

The man thanked you both for your time before leaving, and for a moment you both just stood there staring at the two men as they walked away and disappeared behind a corner.

“We don’t have a meet cute,” you sighed. “Isn’t that sad?”

Jay shrugged and took your hand as he continued to walk. You followed right beside him.

“Are meet cutes really that important?” Jay asked, genuinely curious.

“What if someone gets an idea to make a rom-com movie about us? What will our meet cute be? Meet cutes are a necessity for a good rom-com, you know.”

Jay chuckled at your comment and squeezed your hands. “Baby, our life is better than the movies.”

He turned his head to look at you and your face was scrunched, slightly bothered by the non-existent first-time meeting story with Jay.

“I actually lied a bit,” Jay said, whispering. “About my first impression.”

You frowned as you looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I do think you’re amazing, but the first thing I thought when I saw you for the first time was,” Jay paused for an added dramatic effect, “you were absolutely the most beautiful woman I had ever landed my eyes on.”

“Haha, bullshit,” you laughed dryly, pulling your hand away from Jay’s and walking ahead of him.

“Y/N!” Jay called. “Baby, I’m serious!”

When he caught up to you, he nudged your shoulder to make you look at him, and when you did, he made this stupid ugly face that made you giggle, so you melted into his arm when he offered it to you.

“I also thought you were pretty handsome,” you said softly.

“Yeah, I got that from how you said I had nice hair,” Jay replied nonchalantly.

You smacked Jay’s arm and again went speedwalking ahead of him. Jay chuckled as he tried his best to regain his rightful place to walk—beside you.

-END-

© forjongseong 2023, all rights reserved

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