#something something beauty is in the eye of the beholder

[doromoni]

Clash of Champions | LH44 , MV1

Act 2 . Part 3 : The Champion’s Weapon

Ships : Lewis Hamilton x Engineer! Reader , Max Verstappen x Engineer! Reader

Genre : Drama , Angst , Romance

Warning : Morally Grey Characters , Swearing , Insinuation of Forced Drug Use,

A/N: Forgive me for taking so long. University had me by the neck.

Summary : The rivalry between the titans of Formula 1 go off track and only one will reign victorious

< Previous

Act 2. ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The sudden exit of Y/N L/N had put immense pressure on Mercedes. Investors had started pulling out and stock shares were dropping by the second. The influence behind your name was something that Mercedes had never accounted for.

Your move to Red Bull has been one of the most shocking news of Formula 1 since Sebastian Vettel’s move to Ferrari. The name Y/N L/N had always been strongly associated with the German racing team — No one outside Mercedes had expected the sudden team shift.

From the outsider's perspective, Y/N L/N and Mercedes were a package deal. Your initial start at being Nico’s head engineer had turned heads. Then you suddenly transferred to Lewis’ team without explanation and had the paddock talking. But are you leaving Mercedes to move to their rival, in the middle of the most competitive season? All of the motorsport is in the question of why.

You were the best race engineer of your time. Every other team would kill to have you in their pit wall. Now Red Bull had you and your addition to the team was forecasted to be monstrous on the grid.

Nothing was set, but rumors had spread that you were going to be Max’s engineer as soon as possible.

The rumors were not baseless. You were ready to go and wreak havoc on Mercedes. And if that meant being with Max at Red Bull, then you’ll do so with a smile.

The excitement and eagerness of a new start was seeping off of you as you entered Red Bull Racing Headquarters. Your red-bottomed heels resounded with every step you took. Each step confident as the last one.

Red Bull’s factory was a sight to behold, the atmosphere felt very much alive and bustling. People in uniforms and iPads fly in and out of rooms like worker bees.

Each one greeted you with smiles, waves and with some stopping and talking to you as if you weren’t the enemy just a few races before. The feeling and interaction were so foreign, you have forgotten that not every motorhome was as toxic as Mercedes.

Your eyes linger towards the ginormous 2 story wall of trophies. It was not short of impressive. But what caught your attention wasn’t the number of trophies … but the empty section on it.

Then suddenly, you were pulled into a warm embrace. Your back is tucked into your chest, and your arms are wrapped around your waist loosely. The scent of sandalwood, spice and bourbon filled your senses.

“Christian said that section was for me. For future wins and all. ” Max spoke down to your ear, his breath sending your stomach spinning in every good way possible. His thumb gently brushed over your hips.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as he said that. Leave it to Horner to show his favor towards the Dutch Driver.

Although you enjoyed being in the comfortable and warm hug of the Dutch driver, you realized that you were still in the middle of the lobby.

So you reluctantly removed yourself from Max’s hold. Your eyes suddenly turn your attention back to the bewildered Red Bull employees and staff who are watching you and Max wide-eyed.

Shocked at the display of affection from their usually stoic 1st driver. What's more, it was towards the beautiful race engineer with a reputation of being merciless. The news of what happened at the party didn’t help your odds.

The situation suddenly dawned on you. People just saw you and Max.

“Shit! Max people are looking ” You looked at the Dutch driver, alarmed. The memories of Lewis denying your relationship to all of Mercedes came back to you. And you couldn’t lie, it still stung.

“Yeah, I know. Why, what’s wrong Y/N? ” Max was so nonchalant and unconcerned. You and Max haven’t talked about what your relationship was and what it would mean for the both of you when you were to become coworkers. Your mouth went ajar at his calmness.

“What’s with that expression? Should I be concerned?” Now Max looked at you confused as he surveyed the environment.

“You don’t care? “ You asked. Max just shrugged and muttered a no. His hand finds its way toward your waist again.

Laughing to yourself, finding the circumstances extremely funny. A huge smile then blossomed on your face. While Max was looking down at you with amusement.

“Why should I care if people are looking? Is it weird to hug my girlfriend?” Max called you his girlfriend as if were natural. He said it with so much assurance

“I'm your girlfriend?” You asked, now a smile wide on your lips. You were teasing the driver, but you had butterflies. You felt giddy as you gazed at Max.

“If you’ll take me as your boyfriend and wouldn’t mind me taking you out and spoiling you. Then yeah, you’re my girlfriend” The look on Max's was smug, and he had every right to be. Max’s charming ways did things to you and he knew it.

“Hmm , I don’t know. I’m not sure if I should be dating my driver. Conflict of interests, you know?” You played along — a glint in your eye that Max surely got.

“Maybe you're right, I’ll move to Mercedes then” Max joked back. You laughed along making sure to slap his chest with faux disapproval.

Your humor matched Max’s and learning each other’s boundaries was easy.

“Oh, you better not!” You exclaimed exaggerating. Max continued to laugh along.

“Seriously, Y/N. Will you please be my girlfriend officially ?” Max’s voice then held seriousness and a little bit of uncertainty. He looked directly into your eyes, never breaking eye contact.

You took a deep breath.

“In one condition, we will not keep our relationship a secret. If we are truly to do this, we are not hiding from anybody. “ your voice started to tremble as you went on.

A soft understanding smile fell on Max’s face. He knew exactly how much you’d suffered from your previous relationship.

“ I want everyone to know that you’re mine and that they have no chance with you. You’re mine to keep. Schat”

Your face burned red. You didn’t think that Max calling you pet names would be that attractive. But you were so wrong.

You loved how Max said it, loving how he was solely looking at you as he uttered the endearment in his mother tongue.

“Well then, boyfriend. How about we talk about it with our boss? Hm,” You insisted, for your sanity’s sake. You hoped that Max understood your dilemma.

“Already did” Max grinned down at you. Your eyes grew wide. Max did what your ex couldn’t do in years. You were frozen in shock.

And he took the opportunity of your surprise as his hand found its way to yours, and he pulled you somewhere.

“I was interested in you for a while, but you were with Lewis. But when you broke up, I took my chances and I already notified Christian just in case.“ Max explained as he continued to gently guide you somewhere.

“Well I didn’t know that Max Verstappen had a crush on me” As you said those words, Max suddenly stopped causing you to hit his back.

Then he started to look at you with both astonishment and disbelief. And you find the expression cute on Max.

Suddenly, he took your face in his hands and squished your cheeks — shocking you in the process.

“Y/N L/N . I was flirting with you every chance I got. When you visited me at the clinic after my crash, I thought that I was hallucinating ” Max said seriously, his piercing blue eyes gazing into yours.

“You probably were hallucinating a tiny bit, that was a big crash” You added —Max recognized the guilt in your voice. You still blamed yourself a little bit for that.

“Y/N, Schat. That was not your fault. Please stop blaming yourself. Now come, We’re going to Newey, He wanted to talk to you” Max’s hand found its way to your lower back, guiding you towards the double doors that lead to a glass office.

You felt goosebumps travel up your arms. Max’s attention made you feel cared for and you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies in your stomach.

“Wow…. Adrian Newey wants to talk to me. Wait, but how about Christian? He’s probably waiting in the lobby! “ you suddenly remembered that you were supposed to be waiting for your team principal in the lobby.

“I’ll let him know that you’re busy with Newey,” Max said as he kept nudging you into the office towards another door near the back.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, F1 drivers did tend to be spoiled. And Max wasn’t immune to that. Not when everyone at Red Bull loved their champion contender.

As Max opened the door, there sat Mr. Adrian Newey scribbling in his famous notebook.

You were dumbstruck, it was always a dream to work with the legend that is Adrian Newey.

Your fascination with developing and designing cars was one you held most deeply. However, even when you were a head race engineer during your time with Mercedes — your inputs were never taken seriously.

“ Newey! I’ve brought Y/N, as requested “ Max beamed as he was excited for you. He knew how much this meant.

Adrian looked up from his notebook — his eyes found Max and then it settled on you. You suddenly grew nervous and your palms started to sweat.

“Ms. Y/N! It is my pleasure to finally have you on board!” Newey smiled at you, as he offered his hand.

You quickly shook his hand, still amazed.

“It’s an honor to work with you, Sir! It’s my pleasure” you gushed like a fangirl. Max looked at you with fondness.

“Just call me Newey or Adrian, Ms. Y/N. “ He offered as he stood from his seat and went near you and Max.

“Only if you’d call me Y/N” you offered back with a huge smile still on your face

“Max, you may go. I only need Y/N here” Adrian waved his hand in a shooing manner towards the Dutch driver, who was now pouting.

“Fine, I’ll be back later. Bye, Adrian.” He said towards the developer.

“I’ll see you later Schat.” Max bid you farewell and left — but not without kissing your forehead.

“Well, Y/N I need your input towards the car I’m developing for next year. “ You suddenly grew giddy and excited as Adrian uttered those words

You were going to help in developing a car!

“ What do you say Y/N are you up for it? Will you help me with the RB18?“

“Let’s make a rocket ship, Adrian” You couldn't help but show your excitement as the smile on your face widened.

***

United States Grand Prix

It was finally qualifying. The paddock was bustling with people walking all over trying to find their seats and drivers talking to their engineers inside their garages.

It was officially your first time being Max’s head race engineer. And from the practice sessions yesterday, you were glad that everything went smoothly with Max.

You were confident in your paring as driver and engineer; he trusted in your decisions and you honored his every feedback. You two were like clockwork, everything fell into place.

And so you weren’t worried for Qualifying at all. You knew that Max was ready. You made sure of it.

You were already seated in the pit wall as Max was talking with Christian inside the garage.

When suddenly, you received a text. It was from Lewis. Your forehead scrunched as your eyes fell into the Mercedes Garage; Lewis was not inside.

After a few minutes of Contemplating, you decided to answer.

What the fuck was that??!! So many thoughts filled your mind. Was Lewis telling the truth? Was he lying Why did text he you now? Out of all times.

Was this a tactic to psych you out? To take you out of your focus and fuck with your reasoning. Was Lewis desperate enough to use such devices just to beat Max?

You knew that Mercedes was capable of using cheap shots to put themselves ahead and from what you’ve seen from Lewis recently… he was capable of the same.

You continued to stare at your text conversation. No , you won’t allow yourself to overthink. Not right now when so much was on the line.

You had to prove yourself to the world of motorsport that you were more than the Mercedes race engineer.

You won't allow them to fuck up your freedom, not again.

“Y/N? Are you ok?” You were cut from your thoughts by the radio message from Max. You didn’t realize that Q1 had already started and cars had started to come out of their garage.

“All good, thanks Max” You knew that it wasn’t the right time to tell Max. He needed to focus on— he needed to take pole.

And you will do everything in your power to lead him to that.

Mercedes and Lewis could wait in hell for all you’d care

“All right, Max. Just like we did in the simulation. You go first, then Checo will be right behind you”

“Copy, Y/N” Max was finally on his out lap.

“Radio check, Radio check. Final check”

“Loud and clear, dear” You didn’t expect Max to say that at all. Your face started heating up and your heart was beating way too fast and way too loud.

You knew that Max said that he wanted everyone to know but you weren’t expecting it so soon.

Trying to gain your professionalism back, you cleared your throat with a cough. You heard your team snickering from the sidelines — trying not to laugh at your flustered state.

“Funny Max, now back to focusing on the lap hmm?” You tried to play it cool.

“Will do, ms. L/N” The tone Max used was still playful.

In your other ear, you heard Crofty commentating.

“And that was Y/N L/N from the Red Bull pit wall, all friendly with Max Verstappen. It’s nice to finally have her back. It quite weird to see her in blue and red rather than silver, but everyone missed you Ms. L/N.”

Then suddenly Nico Rosberg had decided to join in with the slightly older commentator.

“She finally left her cage and Red Bull gave her wings! I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But it didn’t shock me that Y/N decided to explore more. From my time working with her, when she was my race engineer back in 2012– I was sure that she was up for greatness.

You were shocked by Nico’s statement. You were always led to think that your past with him had led him to hate you. So much ugliness had happened within Mercedes that you thought his opinion of you was bitter.

You two never had closure when he left the team so you assumed that he resented you like he did with Lewis.

And so you were more than shocked that he was praising you on live TV.

You shook your head and focused your mind on qualifying. It was your first race and it was time to earn your position at Red Bull.

“OK, Max. It’s time for a fast lap. Tyre temperature is at its optimal and there is no heavy traffic on track”

Max was a natural behind the wheel. It was as if the car was a part of him. He breezed past Q1 and Q2 perfectly, earning P2 and P1 respectively.

It was finally the last qualifying session.

“Max, how’s the car feeling?” You asked your boyfriend for feedback.

“The front could be sharper. And the rear needs to be tighter, I could feel the car snapping at turn 5” You checked your data sheet, and Max was right he was oversteering on turn 5

“Will look into it.” And with that, you and your team started to make some changes to the car, as per Max’s input.

“Abort the lap max, will do some changes to the car” you called on the radio. You knew that it was risky but you decided to gamble and do what your gut told you to do.

Your team fully believed in your call and supported your decisions till the end. Your adrenaline was pumping as Max pitted.

And without a hitch, Max was out again on an out lap.

It was almost near the Chequered flag when Max had finished his lap.

Your nerves were eating you alive and your foot hadn’t stopped tapping as Lewis crossed the line placing himself on top of the board.

You had faith in Max. You knew that he was going to earn back that pole.

Everything was down to this. One last push. Max was on his one last fast lap.

Your eyes glued on your screen, as the rest of Red Bull and the entire paddock held their breath.

Max had aced the first sector. Your heart started to pound once again, you could feel it in your throat.

The rain had started to pour in the pitlane, your nerves spiking. But you knew that your analysis was spot on — you didn’t have to worry about anything. Max was flying through the second sector.

One last sector. Your breath caught when he went wide but corrected instantly. You felt light drops of rain on your back but you did not care— as your eyes zeroed in on Max crossing the line.

Enormous cheers erupted as Max goes top of the board. He has won pole position over Lewis!

Claps and hugs were exchanged between your team. Wow, Max had won the pole position. In your first race as his engineer.

Holy shit. You excitedly radioed Max.

“That is P1 Max! Pole position. Congratulations!” You cheered for your boyfriend

“ Let’s go!! Thank you, everyone, for a mighty effort! Y/N! We make a good pair, don’t we” Max said as you saw him waving to the crowds from your screen. The double entendre not escaping you. You laughed along with your other engineers. Cheeky bugger.

The entirety of Red Bull knew of your situation with Max. How could they not? Max was like a puppy always following you in the building.

You watched as the two Red Bull drivers parked their cars in Parc Ferme in their corresponding places. You couldn’t help but fawn over the Dutch Driver as he stepped out of his car towards the interviewer. Max looked amazing in the spotlight.

The camera then zeroed in on David Coulthard and Max who was now holding a mic — a smile on his face as he went on with the post-quali interview.

“Congratulations on the pole position, Max! That’s your 7th one this season! How are you feeling?” David questioned Max.

“I feel great! Another lovely position for the team with me Checo in front of the grid. The team’s effort was extremely excellent today, I have no complaints. And we hope that we can turn this pole into a win tomorrow” Max answered like how he was trained to do. The PR team will be celebrating this as well.

“We’ve heard that you had a change of your head race engineer to Ms. Y/N L/N, how are you finding the shift?” David continued to gauge the Dutch driver

Everyone at Red Bull held their breath. It was decided that your relationship with Max albeit not kept secret to anybody — it would be best to keep it on the low. Until everything with your issue with Mercedes dies down.

Ironically, you agree with them. You didn’t want to drag Max’s name along with yours. You needed to set things straight with Mercedes first. Cut and burn bridges that didn’t do you any good.

You waited for Max to answer the question.

“Y/N has been an absolute delight. The learning curve and transition were seamless, She knows what I want in the car and she delivers.” Max answered with a smile.

“Well Max, congratulations again on the pole! Thank you so much and good luck tomorrow “

Then the camera zoned in on Lewis. He got P2 on the race and he seemed pissed, like anytime he’ll explode.

“Lewis, congratulations on P2! That’s the front row for you! You were two-hundredths of a second behind Max. How was the car for you?”

Lewis’ composure was dissolving by the minute as he tried to answer.

“ I had issues on the last sector, the car was a little too sharp for my liking. But we will utilize what we have” He gruffly answered.

“ I assumed that your change of race engineer hadn’t been as smooth as you expected. How is it working with Bonno instead of Y/N?”

Lewis’ jaw tightened as his hand flexed over the mic that he was holding. People had started to murmur and suddenly the camera panned on Toto then it was suddenly in you.

You were shocked, but you didn’t let anyone see. You looked directly into the camera tauntingly and smiled — innocently waving your hand. Dressed proudly in your Red Bull uniform and your headset lazily hanging around your neck.

“Bonno had been great. He just right for my style of driving.” Lewis plastered a smile. You saw right through Lewis’s lie. No one could fully understand Lewis driving other than you.

You couldn’t help but smirk and you looked back at the data sheet on your screen.

Mercedes didn’t know what’s coming to them.

***

“Why do you suddenly need the medical records , Lewis? You and the other drivers did something stupid. You got high It’s best to keep that buried” Lewis was inside the Mercedes clinic talking to the resident doctor.

He couldn’t seem to push it aside. Everything seemed weird. He was so sure that he just drank and he didn’t participate in anything like drugs.

“You don’t understand, James. Someone framed me and slipped something in my drink”

James , looked at Lewis in both shock and confusion.

“ Are you sure? Lewis this is a serious accusation. We might need to bring this up to the FIA” Lewis only nodded

“I’ll contact the Doctors from the other teams. I’ll report back to you. But when I do find something,..I need to tell Toto. “

“Fine”

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[allfearstofallto]

A Boon from the Tsaritsa

Arlecchino x Fem! Reader

A/N: Reader is a simp

She's beautiful from all angles. That's the only thought that's running through your mind as you kneel before her. Her haunting beauty is a sight to behold, her face like that of an angel. Or maybe, a demon, with the way she tempts you. Even the look of disinterest, of lack of care for you, sends a chill of adoration up your spine. All it took was one glance at her in passing and you were absolutely smitten.

“I was told you requested me personally?” She spoke, her voice echoing off the wall and sending a familiar tingle to your groin. Her words, spoken coldly like ice, made your heart beat even faster in your chest.

“Yes, Sir! I did,” you stuttered back enthusiastically. Her dark eyes were on you and you could feel them practically melting through your skin. And the feeling was euphoric. Her painful gaze was like heaven to you and you wished to bask in it, if only her impatience with you wasn't so palpable, “I did well on the previous mission, sir, as I'm sure you've heard. I'm actually the sole survivor of it. I was told by the Tsaritsa herself that I could have any gift I desire for my job well done.”

Arlecchino cocked an eyebrow, crossing one of her gorgeous legs over the other. The way her thighs squished against the heavy fabric of her pants had you nearly drooling, your eyes tracing up and down her long legs to where the heel of her shoe where she tapped her foot against the marble floor, “I'm assuming you have something you want from my orphanage then, seeing as you asked for me. I do not give my children up, if that's what you're asking for, so I suggest calling on someone else for your ‘reward,”

“I want nothing of the sort,”

“Is that so?” She hummed.

“What I want is something only you can give me,”

“And that is?”

Your eyes fell upon her lips. Plump and wet with gloss. The natural pink shade making them stand out against her pale skin. They were pressed together in a frown, but even that displeasing expression excited you, “I want a kiss. From you.”

She was dumbfounded for a moment, you could see the slightest change in her expression, then she went back to her neutral expression, trying to pretend that what you’d asked for wasn't phasing her. She waved her hands, shooing the other Fatui guards out of the room and they left with little sound, their feet sounding like little patters of rain against the floor.

“A boon from the Tsaritsa is not an easy thing to acquire. People typically ask for things like land or status,”

“I'm aware,”

“Yet, you're giving it all up for a peck on the lips?”

When she said it like that, you did feel a little stupid. But you were steadfast in your ways and insistent on what you wanted. Her lips plagued your dreams day and night. And passing her on your way to assignments made you mentally curse whatever fate kept her from being your superior. Although, you doubted you'd get any work done if you had the opportunity to ogle at her as much as you pleased.

“I do not feel as if I'm wasting my boon, I've wanted this for a very long time,” affirmation coated your words, showing that you meant every bit of them. 

Maybe she could feel that. Feel your honesty in the way you spoke. In the way you look up at her with admiration. Most would be upset that they were made to kneel, yet, you dropped to the floor before her without any hesitation the second the order left her mouth. 

You watched her feet as she stepped towards you, her heels clicking against the floor. She cupped your face, just beneath the chin. You'd never touched her before, how could you? But the feeling of her gloved hands against your skin, of her sharp nails practically testing your flesh, it was euphoric. 

Bending over at the waist, she pressed her lips against yours. You would've melted into a puddle right there, had it not been for her firm grip on your cheeks. She tasted sweeter than you expected, but her lips were as soft as you'd dreamt of. Her smell up close was intoxicating, and even though you would've been more than satisfied with just her lips, you felt her tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

The way she kissed was dominating. It was suffocating. It was heavenly. You let her do whatever she desired, practically sitting there like a ragdoll for her to toy with. You wanted to remember every bit of her taste, the feeling of her lips. Her touch. You savored it, whining in sorrow when she pulled away, her lips wet with your saliva.

“Do well again,” Arlecchino spoke in a hushed whisper right against the shell of your ear, “So you can get another.”

#genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino #genshin arlecchino x reader

[herdarkestnightelegance]

Nocturnal eyes

Pairing: Astarion/ g/n Tav

Tags: vulnerable Astarion, angst, friendship, a bit of fluff

Length: 2.4k words

Summary: Astarion notices something is off with his eyes …

A/N: @nyx-knox out here once again, being the ✨best✨ beta-reader I could hope for!

Also: ARE Y'ALL FOR REAL?! Over 750 reactions on my Bedhead fic?? Thank you so much 🥹!!!

Taglist: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate , @littlelovelore, @onlyancunin @chaoticbardlady99

::::::::::::::::::

Astarion sits in the soft green grass, enjoying the warmth of the setting sun.

Today had been exhausting. The party had finally left the wilderness behind and set up camp on the Mountain Pass. Tomorrow they will head to the Githyanki Crèche, but for now … he’s just relaxing, listening to the soft rustle of the trees above him with his eyes closed.

Because they are hurting again - his damned eyes - causing his head to ache in that awful stinging way. This has been happening semi-regularly since they crashed on that beach. By the end of every day, his eyes feel exhausted. Sometimes he even welcomed the night, the dark bringing relief to his vision, much as he hated to admit that he found any solace in the darkness after having been trapped in it for so long.

It’s not that he wants to be in the dark again - on the contrary! Oh, words could never express how much he enjoys the feeling of the warmth on his skin, the smell of sun-baked earth beneath him, filling him with life, making his undead heart swell with secret joy. It’s just …

“Truly, a sight to behold,” Gale had said, when they first stepped through the gate onto the Pass and were greeted by a magnificent view of the surrounding valley … Or at least Astarion assumed that’s what it was.

Because he can’t tell. Not really. In fact, all he sees are blurry, rugged shapes and a haze of earthy colors far off in the distance.

When Astarion had first opened his eyes after the crash, all he could do was gasp audibly. The sun seared his eyes, the light brighter than anything he had seen in centuries. Immediately, he had shielded his face from the merciless rays, curled into a ball, panic taking over. “No!” he yelped. It’s daytime! I can’t be out! Oh Gods, do I smell smoke? Am I burning up?? Am I disintegrating???

But a few heartbeats passed and to his surprise - and great relief - it was not a burning pain he started to feel. Rather, it was a sensation he thought he had forgotten but that he immediately recalled, having felt it lifetimes ago: The warmth of the midday sun.

Cautiously, he had uncoiled himself and tried opening his eyes again. Gods! It hurts. Of course, Vampire eyes are sensitive to the light, in order to see better at night. An essential trait for nocturnal creatures, predators, such as himself. His eyes hadn’t had to process so much brightness in … forever. So, being blasted with daylight for the first time in roughly 200 years - it hurt like all Hells! 

It took a few moments, but eventually Astarion managed to pry open his crimson eyes. And he began to see. To look. And he saw colors he hadn’t seen in too long. He saw the bright blue sky, the deep purples of the Nautiloid shipwreck, the turquoise water covered with the most beautiful shimmering reflections. Everything was bright. Everything was so vibrant! Everything was so … full of life. He looked up, squinting at the trees and their slightly blurred leaves. Those luscious, green leaves. Gods … I had forgotten how beautiful that particular color is … 

But there had been no time for him to enjoy all those new sights for long. He heard them before he saw them. The others. Friends? Enemies? He couldn’t tell. They were just indiscernible shapes in the distance - but as soon as he had lured one of them close enough to put a knife to their throat, he was back in survival mode, forgetting about the colors he had just reveled in.

That’s what he knew how to do, after all. Hitting his close target. And really, that’s all he should care about, that’s really all he actually needs to see. He’s a master at close-up melee combat, a rogue who sneaks up to his victims, dangerous with his blade. He’s skilled at picking locks and picking pockets. And he’s an amazing lover, always able to read every detail of his victims' expressions to make sure he hits that target just as well. All he needs to see clearly is what’s right in front of him, isn’t it?

But if he was being really honest … it’s not like his usual tricks have actually worked out for him so far, now have they? His first melee attack had earned him a headbutt to the face. He had woken his first victim while sneaking up on them. And he felt his nice little seduction plan for Tav slowly and steadily backfiring on him - but that was a problem for another time. So why not top it all off with embarrassingly inadequate vampiric eyesight to really emphasize it all, he figured?

Astarion opens his eyes again and looks at the hazy, blurred valley below, the wind tousling his white locks, and he scoffs. Ironic, isn’t it? Here he is, finally free from his captor. But of course, even out in the open, he’s not able to look beyond the confines of his own metaphorical cell. As if his eyes are still keeping him prisoner.

A sound behind him snaps him out of his thoughts. Again, he hears them before he sees them coming. Only this time he knows it is a friend. “Astarion?” Tav, he thinks with a knowing smile. He knows their voice anywhere.

“Yes, Darling?” he asks as their leader emerges from the shade of the trees.

Astarion grew to enjoy Tav‘s company quite a bit, if he was being honest. Not only during their passionate encounters, but also just sitting with them, talking about their journey, about the others in their party, sometimes even about his past, which he never thought possible when he had been pressing his knife to their throat just a short time ago.

“Enjoying the view?” they ask as they sit down next to him in the soft grass.

“Oh of course,” Astarion answers as he leans back onto his elbows.

“Especially the Crèche,” Tav continues, pointing into the valley, making casual conversation.

“Why, I agree. Who would have thought the Gith were such marvelous architects,” the pale Elf replies without missing a beat. 

It’s now that Tav turns to look at him. “... Except the Crèche is in the opposite direction?” they say cautiously. 

Shit. Astarion tenses.

He hates this. They know. Immediately he is prepared to snap, to throw a sarcastic comment back at them, telling them to mind their own damn business. Feeling exposed, he keeps his gaze fixed forward, part of him expecting to see mockery, or malice even, should he meet Tav’s eyes. But when he eventually looks up … all he sees is a knowing smile. Their face is so very clear next to him, and so is the genuine fondness that greets him in their expression. The same fondness he is secretly happy to see on Tav’s face every time they look at him.

Astarion takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want his walls to go up. Not for Tav. He resists it, that stupid defensive mechanism and to his surprise, he actually relaxes a bit. “You noticed,” he says quietly.

Tav nods. “On our first day, actually.” His eyebrows go up in surprise. 

“Did you now?” the vampire asks.

“We climbed that platform next to the crash site, remember? You were first up. And you said there’s nothing to see.” Their tone is neither condescending nor reproachful. “But there was... A lot, actually. You know, like, the village? Or the goblin camp. Or, well, this mountain pass. So yeah, I noticed.”

Astarion scoffs. They were right, of course. And back then, he didn’t even realize there was something wrong with his vision. He had still been so overwhelmed with all the light and color, all this blue and green…

For a moment, both sit in silence before Astarion speaks up. “It’s all rather blurry, you know?” he finally admits aloud. “I never noticed it back in Baldur’s Gate.”

Tav listens and nods. “I thought vampirism cures all mortal ailments, even eye problems.”

“Well, maybe there are exceptions? Or maybe I’m just a sorry excuse for a vampire spawn. Honestly, I don’t know. It’s not like any vampire is able to look at vast illuminated landscapes during the day to notice if something is off.” he says in a slightly frustrated, even embarrassed tone, gesturing towards the sunset.

“Your eyes have been adjusted to the night for 200 years. So … maybe they just need a bit to adjust to the daylight now? Give it some time.” The optimism and sweetness in Tav’s voice makes the corner of Astarion’s mouth twitch up into a half-smile.

“Wouldn’t that be something,” he says. Maybe they are right. Maybe. 

This is when Tav clears their throat. “But uhm, until then …” Astarion’s pointy ears twitch slightly as he hears Tav rummaging in their pocket. When they procure something wrapped in a folded leather cloth, he sits up.

“What’s this?” he asked, and they hand him the flat parcel. Curiously, Astarion opens the wrapping. 

In his hand lies the most hideous pair of mismatched spectacles he has ever seen. 

Before he can say anything, Tav begins to talk. “I came across this half broken pair of looking glasses while looting some time ago, and I thought, well, while there is no way we would ever find the perfect pair, we might just try making a custom one, right? I mean, it’s obvious you’re straining your eyes. You might not say anything to us about it, and you don’t have to, but I can tell that you often have a headache by the end of the day, and I, well, wanted to help.” Astarion still says nothing, inspecting the wonky looking thing in his hands.

Quickly, Tav continues, compelled to explain. “But you have no idea how hard it is to find undamaged spectacles! I mean, it makes sense, right? Who would leave their eyes behind? So anyway, I started collecting all the glasses I could find, hoping for an intact pair, but well … eventually I ended up with … this.”

The pair of spectacles in Astarion’s hand was clearly made of two halves from different glasses, held together in the middle by a thin leather cord, wrapped around it several times and in several other places. “Both glasses seemed to be made for looking at things further away. Of course, I can’t say for certain. They are not for me, I mean, if anything, I should be looking into finding a pair for me, so I can finally read that book Gale won’t shut up about. But … anyway, I thought maybe they might be of use to you.”

It’s not often that Astarion is stunned into silence. Tav did this? For him? It takes him a moment to process this … act of kindness. But when he does, he leans over to Tav, turning their face to him with a finger beneath their chin, and softly kisses them. “They … are hideous, my dear,” he says against their lips, with a chuckle and a genuine, soft smile on his face.

“Yeah, I know,” Tav agrees, kissing him back, mirroring his smile, before pulling away. “Well go on then, put them on.”

And he does. Astarion puts on the mismatched, wonky pair of improvised spectacles, the right temple barely fitting over his ear.

“Well?”, Tav asks hopefully.

With the awkward thing perched in his elegant face, the vampire looks down into the valley and takes in an almost inaudible breath. It’s … much better than he could have hoped for. Yes, it’s far from perfect. The glasses are sitting on his aquiline nose lopsided and the left glass is not even close to what he probably needs, yet he feels that nagging strain on his eyes eases immediately.

But that’s not what stuns the pale Elf.

Just as the sun begins to disappear behind the mountains, casting long shadows and a warm orange glow on everything around them, Astarion sees. And all of it this time! For the first time in 200 years, he sees the crisp outline of the setting sun. He sees the mountain tops and ridges. He sees the glowing clouds. By the Gods…

“Astarion?” Tav asks timidly, but he does not react. They sit with him in silence then, watching him watch the sunset in wonder, those red ruby eyes they love so much squinting intently, unmoving, until the glowing disk disappears behind the horizon and the sky slowly begins to turn a lovely shade of purple.

It takes a moment for Astarion to stir again. Carefully, he takes the spectacles off his face as if it’s the most precious thing he has ever owned, before looking at Tav. A lot of things are going through his head at that moment, and - much to his ever-growing confusion - through his undead heart as well. This is not a thing you just do for a travel-companion. Why are you so nice to me? I do not deserve your kindness. “Thank you.”, he eventually settles on, and he knows to Tav those simple words convey everything. 

Tav smiles. “Don’t mention it,” obviously delighted their little gift has been accepted. Why in the hells his favorite travel companion, no, his lover, went out of their way to help him like this, he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Sure, they agreed to help him kill Cazador, but this is not the same! This is special. This is … caring. It is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him. And he is truly, deeply grateful.

This gift would do wonders for his vision, at least until his nocturnal eyes fully embrace looking into the far distance during the day. He knows he will look so foolish with this contraption on his nose and he would probably have to kill Gale should the wizard ever see him with them on, but somehow he didn’t mind wearing these, looking silly, unsightly even, in front of Tav. They wouldn’t judge him, they wouldn’t laugh at him. Because he feels that they care.

After a moment, Astarion puts the spectacles back on, turning his head up to the tree branches above them, that stunning green of the individual, defined leaves still visible in the dim dusk light.

“You know, Darling …”, he says, “I really do love that color.”

#ohoh ​herdarkestnightelegance wrote something #astarion fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion headcanons #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic

[ride-a-dromedary]

There is something...painfully ironic when Christian actors who also have relatively bigger and more prominent noses are cast opposite Cyrano de Bergerac. 

#Cyrano de Bergerac #ot3: feel my soul heavy with love untold #something something beauty is in the eye of the beholder #cyrano looks at him and is like wow lovely so handsome why can't i look like that? #meanwhile christian also has a bigger nose and it's really just a punch to the heart #and a testament that cyrano really just...doesn't like himself #got my hands on claude dauphin's cyrano and christian also has a more prominent nose #also claude is like...strangely soft thusfar - i have to actually watch this through carefully i'm just skimming for now

[queen0fm0nsterz]

Sometimes i think im not capable enough of writing stories but then i receive a comment on ao3

#HELP #tbh people's words of encouragement really spark a light in me #i would be writing regardless (i've always been doing it going as far as i can remember.. wrote a whole lil screenplay at 9 years old LMAO) #but seeing people actually enjoying my stuff is on a whole other level. its indescribable #i can only strive to get better and better‼️ #i think ln really pushed me to explore writing choices i never would have touched otherwise... #the fnty format is something i would have never thought of trying before. same thing goes for beauty in the eye of the beholder #NEED to write something else about RCG and pretender #been a year. i miss them #carols.txt

[embyrinitalics]

I finally managed to get the time to sit down and read An Inconvenience and I have So Many Thoughts

Even though I knew it was coming, seeing Link speaking coherent Hylian was so satisfying and fun. Especially Zelda's reaction. And the way that you showed that he wasn't a perfect master at the language (as he shouldn't be considering it's only been 6 months) by dropping verbs is *french kiss*

ALSO your description of Zonai as a "strange thrumming language that reminds her of the wide, rolling stride of a water buffalo, or the pulse of a sea of stars over a swaying hammock" had me melting in my seat it's so so GOOD

AND THEN the Zonai word translations??? "arensa tsu’im" for "the goddess sings"????? It's stuff like this that makes me wish I knew a second language so badly. And Link's view on how everything is beautiful? He's so optimistic and lovely I love him

If we ever get a traditional Zonai wedding I will tear up with joy

Anyways sorry for the long post/ask/whatever, I just wanted to share my impressions with you because this chapter gave me Lots of the Good Feelings and want to let you know you have once again made me fall in love with this dynamic

AHHHHHHHHH thank you so much for this incredibly sweet and delectable BOOK of a comment, when I tell you it MADE MY DAY. It did. I can't stop smiling about it! 😆

And. Ok. Legit. I have a whole wedding in my head and I just about threw it out cuz I was like "This is so self indulgent and boring of me. Who wants to sit through an entire wedding. No one. Trash. TRASH!" But then you just WALTZ IN with "If we ever get a traditional Zonai wedding..." and I'm just 😱😱😱

So yeah that's happening 😎😆✨

Thank you again SO MUCH for this amazing note in my inbox, which I will reread forever and ever and cherish like a child 😌💖

#asks #mrmilktrayman14 #An Inconvenience #long post #I also have Many Thoughts on not having a word for beautiful #like just the idea we have that only things that look a certain way are beautiful #when really there's complexity and beauty in everything #and we say Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder but like #Link's culture being so in tune with that that having a word for beauty at all seems like Why???? when it applies to Literally Everything?? #meanwhile when something absolutely knocks you breathless with the Rightness and Blessedness of being in its presence? that deserves a word #and that experience is unique to each person even if they're applying it to the same thing #like a father and a groom looking at the bride might both say Arensa tsu'im but they're having totally different experiences #wow is this getting too deep I'm gonna go have breakfast lol #Thanks for the ask!

[seagull-scribbles]

Pre-Super Genesis Wave Antoine Post Metal Sonic Explosion/Coma

[Part 2]

#sth #Archie sonic #antoine d’coolette #I’ve been picturing him with an eyepatch for ages but he really would just look like His Anti Patch so #maybe Neo Metal could tell him true beauty is in the eye of the beholder #or some other terrible pun like that #I know Antoine is ambidextrous so he’d still be a good fighter #but you can not have something explode in your face and put you in a coma without consequences #I’m not being too angst though I do think he’d make a full recovery #Him and Bunnie could do physiotherapy together #she’d fix his hair for him #they both help eachother with their body issues #stuff like that #I know I drew him angry here I promise he’s still the same bean as he was before #cringe is dead #I could fix him no I could fuck him up

[roselise]

You’re beautiful

♡ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

　 ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ 🤍

ﾟ｡ 🤍 ｡ﾟ

🤍 ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

And *you* are very kind!

:’)

Honestly, I think I’m pretty average myself in appearance, but this was still nice to hear, and gave me something to feel happy about tonight. ♡

So thank you!! :D

I’d give you the biggest hug if I could! You’re truly a gem. ♡ ♡

Have a beautiful day, and take care of yourself, my friend ~ ! XOXO

#<3 #ask #you’re very sweet <3 #i don’t know if i’m beautiful or not to be honest #i try not to think on it much #i try to think of who i am mostly — that is if i’m a decent human or not #it is in the eye of the beholder though i suppose #i’m happy to hear this <3 #it really made me smile <3 #so i hope something makes you smile today too ! :D #sending hugs hearts & much happiness! <3 #take care & all the best to you ! <3 #xo ! <3 #🌸 ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ . 🤍

[theflyingfeeling]

Sometimes I just can't believe how beautiful that man aka Olli Elias Matela is

mmmmmhh what ever might you be talking about? I don't understand what you mean at all 🥲

#no but really. every time i look at him i wonder HOW can anyone NOT be attracted to this man HE IS SO GORGEOUS?? HAVE YOU NO EYES?!? #''beauty is in the eye of the beholder'' PFFFFFT NO BEAUTY IS IN THE OLLI YOU JUST HAVE NO TASTE #(pls understand i'm only joking around. to each their own etc.) #also i'm wondering if there was something in particular that provoked this ask? #or did anon just spontaneously go ''olli!'' which. you know. is relatable as heck 😅😩 #sometimes i think back to seeing olli face to face in stockholm and barely being able to utter ''thank you'' and ''hi'' (in that order lol) #because i was literally so blinded by his beauty 😭 #like. from pictures/previous gigs i KNEW he's stunning #and yet! it's crazy how pictures don't do his beauty justice and it's NOT because he looks bad in pictures?? #he's so beautiful in so many pictures BUT he's even more beautiful in person howwwwwww 💀 #in this essay i will-- #answered asks #anon asks

[kickdrumheart68]

💯

#truth #modesty #leave something to the imagination #respect yourself #beauty comes from within #put on some clothes #beauty is in the eye of the beholder #found on pinterest #know your worth

[cuchufletapl]

Can I just say that I find it just a little bit weird how strongly some BNHA fans are rejecting Horikoshi's depiction of realistic Deku because he doesn't look like an idol.

He's an average-looking boy, we've been told this from day one, and yet some fans (Deku stans, might I add) are surprised and disappointed because...?

People really can't accept that a character that they like isn't drop-dead gorgeous, as if by virtue of being their favourite and/or being cool they just couldn't be unattractive, and I just think that it's a strange way to view those characters. And, honestly, I also think that if we question it a bit further, it denotes a fucked-up underlying thought process—one that is alarmigly common in the real world, at that.

#this is something that I'd noticed in fanfic too #because some writers describe him like he's beauty incarnate #and I've always felt kinda weird about it because like #deku is supposed to be a character that looks plain and uninteresting on the first impression #and then like blows you away because he's fucking amazing #attractiveness is in the eyes of the beholder and deku earns it just through a sort of charisma #not because of photograph-type beauty #and either way he could still be fucking ugly and it shouldn't be something that makes you like him LESS??? #bnha #boku no hero academia #horikoshi kohei #midoriya izuku #my original post

[partystoragechest]

none of the companion/advisor characters in dragon age are inherently unlikable or bland you just have different tastes in character to other people and thats okay

#there are some characters where i dont get the hype #BUT the fact that other people love them enough to write entire essays about them tells me the character isn't the problem here #beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that #you will find meaning in the things that mean something to you but that doesn't mean everything besides is meaningless #dragon age #codex entries

[iamonlyhereforthefreefood]

I'm screaming I just stumbled upon a girl on here thirsting over like early 70s Elvis... girl he is so ugly 🤣

#something something beauty is in the eye of the beholder but come on

[astraystayyh]

pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

i. 

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation. 

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand. 

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you. 

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure. 

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth. 

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head. 

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh. 

She isn't shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.  

He’s beautiful. 

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually  don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips. 

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice. 

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly. 

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support. 

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.” 

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display. 

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within. 

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.” 

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you. 

“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants. 

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being. 

“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back. 

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers. 

“Touché.” 

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed. 

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you. 

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?” 

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you. 

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.” 

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you. 

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move. 

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around. 

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen. 

One hour later 

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight. 

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back. 

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind. 

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips. 

“You made them?” 

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief. 

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears. 

“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before. 

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth. 

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head. 

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two. 

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both. 

“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.” 

“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.” 

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it. 

ii. 

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you. 

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention. 

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago. 

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours. 

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.” 

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.” 

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose. 

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly. 

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.” 

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek. 

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying. 

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her. 

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten. 

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.” 

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror. 

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door. 

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch? 

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.” 

“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend. 

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.” 

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well. 

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.” 

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements. 

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair. 

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth. 

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest. 

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows. 

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.” 

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue. 

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him. 

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it? 

Your facade cracks. His voice wins. 

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.” 

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years. 

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly. 

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris. 

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture. 

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp. 

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours. 

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?” 

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

 “I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

 “I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

 “You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

 “I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

 “Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him. 

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night. 

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter. 

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head. 

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.” 

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not. 

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly. 

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back. 

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.” 

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near. 

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly. 

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near. 

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay. 

One week later. 

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm. 

“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.  

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair. 

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing. 

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face. 

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess. 

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm. 

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems. 

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling. 

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter. 

“Will she be okay?” 

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.” 

“Okay, thank you.” 

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?” 

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks. 

"She looks just like you," you softly smile.

"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up. 

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode. 

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak. 

"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on. 

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze. 

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps,  despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.” 

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears. 

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.” 

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away. 

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.” 

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek. 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before. 

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ 

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired 

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help? 

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring 

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock. 

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide. 

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.” 

“Can I read what you wrote?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart. 

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago. 

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?” 

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.” 

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?” 

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.” 

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes. 

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.” 

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away? 

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own. 

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch. 

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.” 

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin. 

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close. 

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?” 

“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.” 

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing. 

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you. 

You wished to be the only one Chris liked. 

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out. 

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair. 

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold. 

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper. 

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it. 

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could. 

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.” 

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date. 

iv. 

You’re avoiding him. 

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks. 

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh. 

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory. 

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you. 

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question. 

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!” 

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?” 

“Okay!” 

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner. 

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

"Look at me, hm?" he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. "Yn, please, I want to look at you."

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him. 

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm. 

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile. 

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly. 

“What happened to connected Chris?” 

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place. 

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again. 

you win. 

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later). 

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face. 

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly. 

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both. 

It's her first time calling you mom. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently. 

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.

#skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids angst #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids reactions #skz angst #skz fanfic #chan fluff #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz au

[wynterlanding]

tag dump –

#can your heart stand the shocking facts! ooc #coming attractions! answered #depraved stories from the underground! wishes #he's laughing up at us from hell! musing #in headspace no one can hear you scream! headcanons #my hearts beating outside my chest! ship aesthetics #queue of the damned! queued #so beautiful you'll die a thousand times! ship #speak of the devils on my shoulder! dash comments #styles from the underground! edits #the flip side of satan! audio #this motion picture is rated f for fabulous! ash likes #to avoid fainting keep telling yourself its only a meme! memes #welcome to our public service announcement! psa #vintage villains and shocking sinners! dash games #eye of the beholder! main #words like violence break the silence! filmmaker #sigma fi or die! college #the nights poet! alt college #i saw something sitting on your bed! paranormal investigator #nothing bad is gonna happen to you here! investigative journalist #sweet symphony of life! vampire #soaring sun and morbid moon! twin au #specters from the black moss! lance #twin styles! lance musing #pick your poison! journal boi plots #pick your poison! film boi plots #keep the streets empty! werewolf

[instantheartpirate]

#Something I like i am cute I am suede but leather no doubt beauty is in the eye of the beholder not beauty is me.