the language he knows is the tongue of destruction. he kills it, he destroys it, he owns it, and here he allows his nails to drag across the skin taut against her ribs as if he meant to tear it out and own it, too, for tonight. michael is the type of man to scrape his knees before a woman, but arin knows too well the lesson of gravity. he knows that bodies fall more easily than they are hoisted; that it takes less to twist a thin-prick knife through heart and ribcage than the effort needed to draw them closer. the woman is a body, just the same. the woman is a cover. his other hand holds her jaw firm -- "alright," he acquiesces. she'll learn her lesson, too. he presses his mouth against hers as a present, tinged in absinthe and sugar, fire taut, no slot for oxygen but the breath exhaled lightly after pulling away from something with more pull than tar. michael trembles. he breaks, for a moment; this dark thing seeping into the eyes of a saint: a shadow with a vengeance. the hook tears into michael's mask, rips it open, and arin glues it back together with a grin and a thumb against her chin: an apology -- "i don't usually kiss girls on the first night." it's a stamp on the night. a signature. something for others to know he was here, and not at the parking lot folding the dead into wishful origami in the boot of someone else's car. he pulls away, but only just, only enough to still keep his palm against her waist. "buy you another drink?"
lust and greed , the two sins that cause the most damage to your psyche. , both come to a heed . the combination is so hypnotic , yet lethal . a thrilling rush surges through your veins , causing a sensation akin to a drunken stupor . it's just you and him ; the ringing of ears grows in prominence as eyes bore into his , a faint trickle of blood rising to the surface as your knife stabs you underneath your shirt . but , you don't care ; you press your mouth against his with hunger , the tongue swirling for dominance . an insistent voice echoes in your head : bring him to his knees , make him beg for mercy . but your power is slipping . . . like quicksand from an hourglass , and you know it . your teeth give him a firm and possessive bite that strikes at his lower lip , a proprietorial mark of some sort ; the marking serving as an emblem of capture , a discreet badge that conveyed a clear message to fellow agents — this was your territory . a saccharine sweet coo then emerges from lipstick stained lips , your head tilting only enough to expose the bare neck . “ oh ? have i rocked your world ? ” your hands assertively cover his on your waist , a subtle dance of desire and possession . may the best one win . “ another drink ? only if you're ready to dance in the flames . get me a vodka cocktail , and let's see how dangerous you can really get . ”
he thinks now of max ernst and his decalcomania. there, on canvas, ernst showed how a man can be so small to an incalculable woman; how the ground beneath him could just be an abstraction, a random collection of air bubbles, murky with intent. arin enjoys that ernst was wrong. "i like to pretend to play it safe." he calculates the step back, the distance between them, enough to extend a hand to lead her to the sea. he understands this. there is no incoherence in it. after the war, the world must have seemed a random outcome of events lucky enough to hold the sinews of life together. arin knows this is not the case -- not the randomness, of course, but the luck. the right men know when to take the opportunity. they know to understand incoherent women. to lead them to the dark, to move in music, place a tender hand on their waist as one might touch a worn-down saint. he leans down, just enough for a prayer to be heard, "maybe you'll see how dangerous i can be, if we keep going like this." if he could laugh -- if he learned how to -- if he'd seen it done better -- his mirth would've been more convincing.
you're an enigma ; an intangible concept , a startling essence of mystery that lies underneath a statuesque figure ; a figure so discreet yet enthralling , an aesthetic so beguiling yet deadly . but , this is what you wanted to be ; a silhouette of a story written in whispers , a fleeting shell that flails through the wind . you knew predictability was a weakness : a tale as old as time . the moment you allow a pattern to emerge , there vanished your strength - - and you refused to let that happen . “ oh , but pretending is quite overrated, don't you think ? i prefer to live on the edge , and embrace the wild side . ” and embrace it , you did . your manicured hand falls into his , tight shirt subtly adjusting to expose the tiniest hint of your breast . you were in dangerous territory , and you knew it ; but damn , did you enjoy it . as he bends , the tension thickens ; your mind becomes a cloud , heavy with the intoxicating blend of desire and anticipation . impulsively , you move his hand to your chest , lips grazing against his neck . “ then , show me . let's see how dangerous you can be , hm ? ”
The Burnout almost felt like a second home to Link. He loved the sounds of the cars and the way smog coated the air. He dreamed of being able to race once more, to finally claim victory rather than defeat, and he decided that today might be the day he finally got back into his favorite activity. It had been a month since he crashed, and he felt relatively back to normal (minus the strange visions and moments where he felt frozen in his own body). Besides, there's no time like the present, right?
He blinked slowly as he watched Juliet step out of her car. He hadn't seen her since the night he crashed, and the sight of her brought back old memories of their competitions. He grinned a bit at her words, crossing his arms as he watched her wave him over, ❝You think I'm pretty?❞ The compliment caused him to trot over to Juliet's side, but he paused when she asked him about his last race. He rubbed the back of his neck as he admitted, ❝...I lost control of my car and crashed into another race.❞ The event felt like a lifetime ago, but he knew the wounds were still rather raw. ❝It's not happening again, though. I'm going to beat you this time, and I'll finally get to say I told you so.❞
your brown eyes bore into his own , laser - focused as if peering into the depths of his soul . there was something about link you couldn't quite place your finger on ; at times , he appeared quite abnormal , though you lacked concrete evidence to prove that something was truly up . but , he was a man . and weren't all men weird ? it had to be that damn testosterone ; you swore it was something akin to poison , for there was no reason that men should act like they way they do .
“ don't get so ahead of yourself . you're no heartthrob , but i guess you're decent . ” you knew that was a lie - - sure , you find link attractive . who didn't ? but you couldn't tell him that ; you weren't here to boost up his ego , you were here to win . “ you crashed ? ” god , you didn't want to laugh in his face . but how could someone who just admitted to crashing think they could beat you ? impossible . “ well , it's nice to see you're still holding up well . ” saying that almost made your throat burn . since when did you show compassion to others ? you must have been getting soft . “ but , you'll never beat me . not even in your dreams . you couldn't even hang if i gave you a ten - second head start . ”
emiko can imagine how it played out, how the clutch must have felt beneath juliet's foot and how the engine and her heartbeat thrumming in her ears must have sounded. she's sure she's probably said the same things to yamato, words fired at a quick rate as adrenaline is flooding her body. she beams like a proud mother until she registers the last of juliet's words. "YOU WHAT?" she swears that soul nearly leaves her body, hand reaching out to the ground to steady herself from keeling over. maybe this was karma for putting yamato through the same things back when she was younger, nearly sending him into an early grave just from worrying itself. it almost makes her want to send him a lengthy apology for being an adrenaline loving brat. her voice drops in volume, eyes softening, "please, please, please promise me you'll wear your seatbelt next time. or if you don't please don't tell me. i'd rather not know." the thought of having juliet's body wheeled into the er as emiko's helplessly trying to do all she can to save her makes her want to hurl. she's lost enough people in her life and she refuses to lose any more. "where does it hurt? what else hurts? is it more like a dull pain or sharp pain? on a scale of 1-10."
if you had to compare yourself to someone ? you would definitely characterize yourself as the guy from we're the millers with the no ragrets tattoo . that's how you lived life ; on the edge , with no regrets . at least , that's what you let yourself think . plus , living a life filled with adrenaline has allowed you to forget about the routine aspects of life . it relieved yourself of feeling emotion , of having to actually face the fact that you weren't really happy . did the wildebeest think of its hunger when being chased by a 380 pound lion ? fuck no . it was forced to live in the moment , trying to survive . and that's what you did ; try to survive . “ hey ! there's no need to worry now . i'm alive , aren't i ? ” and alive you were , with enough cuts and bruises to prove it . “ it's just my knee . . . and a bit on my elbow . but it hurts just a tiny bit ! ” that was a lie , and you knew it . you tried so hard to not let anyone in , not let anyone see you sweat ; but how long could you keep that up ? “ it's a bit sharp . i'd give it about a seven ? but , it's nothing i can't handle . ”
open: to all
setting: in the city, where people are only concerned about where they have to be.
" oh, fuck you. " a coffee in one hand, bagel in the other. he has no time for either as he weaves through the crowd. it's that time of day where the pace of the city is akin to the drumming of a jungle, and you can't tell the hawks from those being lead to a slaughter. a tank of a shoulder barges against his own, and he flips around to yell a 'fuck you!' at them. back to the conversation: " and what's up your ass, huh? do you need some hookers, some molly? a hello kitty band aid like a fuckin' pervert? "
“ say that ' fuck off ' shit around me again and i'll blow your goddamn brains out and leave it on this damn concrete . ” it wasn't the fucking time ; you were already on edge , and the last thing you wanted to do was deal with this idiot . “ and you're calling ' me a fuckin' pervert ? i bet you can't even pleasure a woman , or find the fucking clitoris , you piece of shit . you just ram that shit in there like a fucking asshole . ”
WHO: Haneul Seon & Delphine Le (@primadvnnas)
WHERE: Old World Casino, Haneul's office
The irony that he was a CFO working with a mob whose main goal was to bring down corporations like the Old World Casino was not lost on him. He fought to balance the responsibilities of each team on his shoulders, and for the most part, he managed to switch between his roles carefully. He was currently adorning the role of the cold, level-headed CFO--- a man whose sole purpose is to make sure the company is prospering, not drowning like the other corporations in this city.
Of course, the two roles could occasionally run into each other. Having many Burning Gods members working under his thumb was both a privilege and a curse. When he spotted a figure in his office, he had a feeling it would be the latter. His eyes squinted as he stepped into his personal domain. A frown adorned his face as he realized that this wasn't even a member who worked a few floors down--- it was DELPHINE LU, a woman who had a knack for getting under Haneul's skin.
❝You have ten seconds to tell me why you're lurking around my office. If you take any longer, I'm calling security and having them escort you out of the building.❞
truth be told , all delphine wanted to do was take a damn nap . her days abided by the same schedule : try to piece meaningless information together during the day , and finding even more meaningless information at night . different day , same result : each passing moment felt like a blur , a life lived on a broken clock that stayed on the same hour , refusing to change the time .
but ? desperate times called for desperate measures . that's why her body is bent over at a 90 degree angle , nimble fingers swiftly rummaging through countless files . “ you have got to be kidding me . ” an exasperated whisper echoes through the empty room , and eyes roll in disbelief . you had to have the worst luck on the planet . well , hold that thought . did you just hear footsteps sound through the corridor ? fuck . hands quickly restore files to pristine condition , and the body snaps upward , right before the door opens .
remember what aranya told you . it's all in the eyes . slightly raising your eyebrows and narrowing your eyes , the body slowly glides as the eyes remain focused on haneul's . “ i heard you had a card shark spot open ; i was here to offer my services as appreciation for your wonderful work as the underboss . you wouldn't call security on me for trying to help , would you ? ” your eyes remain focused on his , not daring to look anywhere else .
"I....DIDN'T LIKE THE MOON?" memories are fuzzy in the ether that she can barely grasp out to reach. like fog on the water there are things that she does not quite know. the slip of like-dislike and a malleable personality sweet like saltwater taffy. there are days when she feels entirely out of her own body like know, an omnipotent overlooker to their conversation pulling at strings of hair to be noticed as a phantom. yue frowns, stares down at the dust that's gathered in her keyboard fingers tracing the space bar in barely concentrated strokes. she can't be certain but she thinks she loves the moon, the brilliant white light that blinds. a leading giant back to wherever she came from. yue means moon, she whispers under her breath. what does it say about herself if she doesn't like. a sudden sadness creeps into her face looking back up at juliet. "i can't believe i ever didn't love the moon." there's a lingering sense of betrayal like she's done something wrong. if she made a mooncake now would her hands shake under the weight of ignorance. could she fold the forgetting into red bean paste and dough? "i'm glad you remember."
words jumble at the mouth , spewing them a mile a minute , sentences rushing out in a frenzy . “ i mean you - ” fuck . did you have to get another detail wrong ? “ you weren't the most fond of it . but that was back then ! remember ? we used to always look at the sun , and we would . . ” come on , think of something else ! “ wish for it to come back . we would even sit out and chant , and say ' come back sun ! ' but then , we started liking the moon a bit after that . ” you're convinced none of that made sense ; that the shit you pulled out of your ass wasn't enough to pacify any wounded feelings . there's nothing more that you wanted to do than remove her frown ; to whisk her away from melancholy and bring her back again to buoyancy . “ and your dislike only lasted for a teeny bit . ” you tried your hardest to sound convincing , conviction wavering for just a bit when you realize the severity of your situation ; you hold so much power in your hands , and yue's memory relies on you . “ what about . . . cars ! remember when i took you on a drive , and we stared at the moon the whole time ? ”
a fuck up . that's all you are . . . and that's all you'll ever be . the nickname begins at birth : your father spits it at your infant body right after your birth . you're a sign of his infidelity ; your mother , a local escort , trapped him with a son . to her ? you were a miracle ; a sign of life , a small angel that served as a reminder that she could be forgiven for her sins . but your father ? he was a married man in his 50s : one of declining health , with three kids who he already planned to take over his empire . but then you came . and those kids ? they never spoke to him again . his family began to slip away from his fingertips : a divorce , a restraining order , ending with a house foreclosure . and it was all because of you .
that's what he told you , over and over again . your mother fought tooth and nail for sole custody ; she never wanted her baby boy to end up toxic and demented like the man who had fathered him . two lives are spent in and out of court , arms reaching for the same touch of a small child . you hated your father ; you wished to never see him again . he made your life hell : one filled with harsh punishments , coupled with hours filled with yelling and screaming about how much he hated you . and you almost got away , until that one fateful day .
you remember it like it was yesterday : yelling , screaming , and fighting . but then , you hear gun shots . the house shakes , and the sulfurous smell of gunpowder enters unsuspecting nostrils . a sound of mournful wails echoes from your mother's mouth , but your father's calloused hands sweep you up before you can run for cover . reports come back later : the police tell you it's a suicide , but you know otherwise . but you refuse to say such , for your father has already threatened you : " if you tell them , then you'll go with her . "
hatred remains trapped in your bones , and venom runs cold at the mere sight of him . if he wanted to take your mother away from you ? then you would take everything else away from him . the household becomes a hell-hole , a live-in boxing ring if you may . punches and fists are thrown daily , and the occasional stab of a knife is introduced . sometimes you find yourself at the end of its sharp tip , and other times ? he's a recipient . you go to school with black eyes and bruises ; " oh , i just got in a fight " , you say . technically ? it's the truth .
you're living on a battlefield ; fights become number one priority , and as a result ? your grades are in the gutter . but you knew you weren't going to college : you were a fuck - up , and fuck - ups didn't get degrees . but the marines ? they wanted you . they needed you , actually ; and you needed them . there , you flourish . you're able to fight as much as you want to , hurt as much as you want to : well , behind the sergeant's back at least . and if you saw a man attempt to make any woman uncomfortable or conduct any actions without their consent , your foot instantly went up their ass . it was something your knew mother would have wanted you to do , and something you wished you could have done for her .
time passes , and you begin to climb the ranks . years fly past , and duties become more daunting . but you love a challenge ; so it's when you feel that you cannot accomplish anything else , you get an honorable discharge . life becomes quiet ; too quiet for your comfort . it is then when you find the white crocodiles , and just like the marines , you needed them .
she speaks and he finds his own life weaving in-between her words, about her siblings who she hadn't seen and how their parents weren't present ; how a brother had taken care of juliet, so young, unable to take care of herself. green eyes stare, mouth slightly ajar because they are both kowalski's. his name leaves her mouth and everything stops. no longer can he hear the noise of the club behind him, the bright lights and pounding bass all gone, leaving clear only the vaguely familiar woman in-front of him.
except there is no vagueness now, she is as clear as day. the fingers stop fiddling, smoothing out quickly the photo he so desperately wanted to show; a toddler, headshot, teary eyed and red in the face from previous crying but smiling now. first picture day, watermarks across it indicate the proper ones weren't bought and those samples were kept. donovan has one of each of them, the only indication that the kowalski siblings were born and raised, not appearing from the gutter where he so often found himself.
a hand extends, giving it to her, next typed text on the bottom saying 'juliet kowalski'. the world doesn't seem to resume spinning for donnie until he softly says to her;
"i'm donovan kowalski," he licks his lips. "it's me."
i'm donovan kowalski . it's almost as if her brain takes a moment to process the severity of his words ; her mind pauses for what feels like nothing short of a lifetime . an overwhelming surge of shock and intense emotion sends a jolt through her being like a flash of lightning , bile rising to her throat . this is donovan : your donovan , your flesh and blood . if you could , you would peel your layers of skin right now ; scalp it to leave yourself raw , just for the chance to show him your bare bones ; bones that are so similar in structure , for his would be an automatic match .
teary , brown optics gawk at the photo held accessible to you , shaky hands struggling to grasp it out of his reach . was this a dream ? it couldn't be real . you couldn't blink ; if you did ? you were afraid that he would go away , and vanish into the abyss . “ this is me ? ” it had to be you ; the name was a dead match for yours , and it was impossible to just be a coincidence . “ i can't believe you kept this . ” you're shaking , and the tear that you tried so hard to keep in your eye finally falls .
it's like you've lost all control ; the shaking , the tears , the waterworks - - all of it comes to a heed at once . you can't even stop your hand as it reaches out to cradle donnie's face . “ it's really you . ”
A cornered animal always bares its teeth. Yes, perhaps — but what is an animal if not a tired woman? What is a foaming mouth if not a woman saying the words of death-mud into the beak of a wheezing vulture? The shark that had circled her for eight years, bloated belly, beady eyes — a god among the men who worshiped him. But it was her who stole his most devoted sinner. It was her who took him to his knees and told him that all saints have been deemed useless. Bend the waist and watch how the blood of his still drips from her mouth. Incubated with his terror. A blink and she’s back in the elevator, lips pulled up into a taut smile — the professional agent and her amoral addiction. “Wait for them to be comfortable [ … ] my previous assignment lasted me eight years. I was very patient. It was worth it.” A brief flicker of something dark and slippery behind her usual stoic features, a malicious creature that swims along the shores and drags down sailors. Has the siren-blood always been her? Or had the Bureau coaxed it out? She ate a wolf’s heart and called him hers. She found the dragon’s teeth and still pressed her neck between them, his heart was warm and vengeful and she ate it all the same. Perhaps a woman-skin was her second home. Perhaps she had always been this hungry. The yearning for something to consume her. “Just the Burning Gods you’re focused on, hm?” Aranya speaks this to the lit up floor button on the elevator’s wall. Gaze focused and slightly dreamy, half-aware she’s saying this aloud. The smile returns, pleasantly so — as though she is thinking back to the blood spurting up from a particular cockroach’s neck. “It’s not about the clothes. It’s about how you walk. How you look at them. You can bring an empire down with only your eyes showing.”
wait for them to be comfortable . it's words you wish you didn't have to hear, but you knew it was true . patience was a virtue ; but it was something that you felt you didn't have . you were rash , your mind spun with the intricacies of a swift cheetah , racing through thoughts and imagining a wild array of possibilities , the mind attempting to develop its answers a mile a minute . you never wanted to be caught off guard ; like the innocent doe who became prey , for its docility and heedlessness results in a failure of an escape plan . you wanted to be the one who was two steps ahead ; a great warrior on the trojan battlefield who slayed the greatest threat . but you had to wait . . . and knowing that killed you . “ eight years , hm ? patience is something i lack . i hate having to wait behind the corridors , and wait for things to come together . i'd much rather fast forward to the part where i get to see the burning gods on the floor , begging for mercy . ” were you fucked in the head ? maybe . but it took a real fucked up person to work undercover in a gang , to put your whole body on the line knowing that one day ? it could be your blood splashed against those walls . “ just the burning gods . could you imagine if i tried to take on anyone else ? ” a small sigh sounds . “ i would never leave this damn office . ” but , isn't that what you wanted ? to avoid going home to an empty home , a house that haunted you ? how ironic : a little miss perfect with a fucked up personal life . but this was work , and you had to keep on a cheery demeanor , one that made it seem like you had it all together . “ it's all in the eyes ? i'm starting to think you know this all by experience . ” a small laugh escapes lips , but damn , was she right . “ so what you're telling me is eye contact is my greatest superpower ? got it . maybe i'll even sip a drink while making eye contact , or put a finger in my mouth . ”
she is nothing if not consistent. of course, it's not as if lux seeks her out, but the timing of each encounter is enough to make her not only suspicious but equally as intrigued. what sort of dirt will she dig her heels in tonight, and who will catch wind of it? perhaps it's not particularly smart to run an FBI agent in circles — in fact, it's sure to blow up in her face — and yet lux finds herself doing it anyway. or maybe she just likes to watch delphine squirm, and she'd been more than willing to do just that beneath them on multiple occasions. whatever the reason, lux feels their feet taking them in her direction the moment they spot her at the bad monkey doing god knows what. they stand behind her, an infuriating smirk on their face as they lean in to her ear. "don't look now, but there's someone watching you from across the room," she greets lowly, an obvious lie just to get her skin crawling. lux moves away and sidles up next to her at the bar, raising a hand to order two drinks for them. her tone is mocking as she takes a sip of her drink and pushes the second toward delphine. "i'm a little offended. you choose this shithole over my bar nowadays?" she asks, as if she is not also at this shithole of a bar. "what ever did i do to drive you away?"
you knew you shouldn't have done it . you knew that with all actions come consequences , and that a cosmic bitch named karma would come back and bite you in the ass . and you knew that if it didn't come today , it would come soon . but you just couldn't help the way that lust and greed dominated your body , a combination so enthralling , yet so deadly . maybe you should blame it on the alcohol : a liquid that made you feel so good , yet fueled an impulsive set of decisions that left a set of destruction in your path . or , maybe it was a full moon ? that had to be the reason why lux still had such an impact on you , why your body still shuddered under her touch . “ don't say shit like that . you know it makes me paranoid . ” you only whisper , but you know you couldn't speak any higher ; you might moan if you do . legs move to create as much space as possible , a task daunting in such a crowded place . “ oh , don't get so ahead of yourself . it was never about you . ” that's a lie . “ i just needed a change of scenery ; to go somewhere better than where i usually attend . ” eyes glance at the drink lux passes your way , but fingers refuse to wrap around them . you can't get drunk ; if you do , you know you’ll sleep with lux again . “ but how kind of you to offer me a drink from this ' shithole ' . it's always nice to know what you think of me . ”
it'd been nearly two months since he'd landed on american soil now and alexsey found himself with more questions than answers - they were no closer to finding what they'd come for, in fact the distance between himself and dmitri felt bigger than it ever had. but he had the café, he'd grown familiar with the four walls, the familiar seating arrangement - so much so he knew the best place to sit. it was difficult to quiet his mind, always a troubled man, but a coffee and crossword seemed to do the trick these days. more often than not he would stumble over a lot of the words, some he wasn't so familiar with, others he could answer quickly. this one though, it was proving to be more difficult and while he was half tempted to look up the answer on his phone, stubbornness would not allow it.
his attention was drawn away from the puzzle to look at the woman speaking to him. was she speaking to him? right, there was no other man sat nearby with a crossword to hand. " i uh - yes. of course. " immediately, rather clumsily, alexsey moved himself to the spot closest to the window to give up the seat closest to her. trust him to make a fool of himself right away in front of someone as pretty as her, he cursed himself under his breath. " is it this one? " he pointed to the seven blank spaces in the middle of the puzzle, description to follow. " scrub or wear away. "
chocolate brown hues twinkle , glistening under the light as they meet his own brown orbs . the mouth couldn't help but release a small giggle , the feeling of amusement running through the core of your being . who said chivalry was dead ? well , maybe you did . but who could blame you ? in the aftermath of betrayal that arose from your divorce , the sensation of having jagged claws tear your heart away from its rightful sanctuary caused you to refuse to humanize the male species , in fear it may come back to bite . you even had a new motto : fool me one time ? shame on you . fool me twice ? shame on me .
but , you can't help the small smile that emerges when you look at alexsey . the sickly sweet aroma of floral perfume gently seeped from your body , left dimple on display as you took the seat he left open for you . with a curious lean , your body draws closer to the crossword puzzle , bringing you physically closer to him . “ that's the exact one ! ” a manicured finger traces the lines of the crossword puzzle . “ how did you know ? please tell me you were having trouble with that one too . it'll make me feel a lot better about myself . ”
if only he could have given her quick peck of a kiss on her cute, button nose. his lips brushed past her cheek, teasing juliet a tiny bit. “you know i would’ve but...” he pauses to take a LOOK at the crowd, taewoo looked forward for the rest of the night, and them being alone. together, doing god knows what. he winks back at her, with a smitten smile. the one she knows, the one she can interpret just by a sudden glance.
after making a swift exit, he sits on his bike and waits for his ice queen to arrive. he puts his jacket on and has one of juliet’s jackets on hand, as well as a helmet to protect both of their identities while on a crusade. tae-woo had a protective nature, but knew that she could very well manage on her own. though, if anything, he’d rush at any given chance to be by her side. tae-woo’s really infatuated with her, and to his surprise, their feelings were mutual. thank the heavens.
oh , how much she hated to be teased . he looked like the forbidden fruit ; tempting , alluring , yet impossible to devour . you were hungry for it ; and his lips brushing past your cheek made him even more irresistible . it was a game you two liked to play : a challenge where you two tried not to show affection in the public eye . unluckily for you , it was harder to do than you expected it to be . you wanted nothing more than to just give into temptation and take him by the hand , to hurry up and whisk him away from the crowd yourself .
you watch him exit , staring as discreetly as possible . as the attention of the crowd begins to shift away from you , your legs quickly book it in tae - woo's direction . butterflies begin to emerge in your stomach , and giggles become louder as you approach his body . “ finally ! ” your voice now higher than a whisper . “ you made it so hard . ” shoulders envelop him in a hug , and lips press a quick kiss to his cheek before letting go . “ and is that helmet for me ? ”
they weren't positive what it was about the dirt and exhaust mixed with the chemical lined fog of the burnout that was so comforting. maybe not comforting, maybe just familiar but without reason. why did that happen so often? whatever it was, it kept them gravitating there to watch the races and meet the supplier that fueled one of their many, arguably most destructive, vices.
' hey kowalski, ' raven was perched on a deteriorating cement barrier when they heard the name but didn't turn. they didn't miss the person who did turn, however. stunning, with a face so expressive he felt like she could say anything she wanted without saying anything at all. there goes that twinging jolt at the back of their brain again. it had them on their feet, moving toward her with conviction. the hesitation only hit when they were beside her, lips parting to say something then pausing. take a breath. "hey, sorry to bother, but did they just say kowalski or was it kawasaki?" not a long shot, they were around cars and it wouldn't be the first time their ears played tricks on him.
the tumultuous racetrack was juliet's home . the rhythmic , yet thundering squeals of her car breaks brought juliet to a place akin to paradise . this was where she belonged ; not being tossed between the hands of foster parents who tossed her into their trashcan the moment she acted against their rules , nor in a tumultuous , unstable home where the only special gourmet meal she had was kraft's mac and cheese . here ? she was in control . it was her and her car engine against the world , with her gears serving as beneficial back - ups .
when her name is announced , she feels like a celebrity ; a tom-boyish marilyn monroe , perhaps . and hearing to hear the crowd chant it after a win ? man , it filled her with pride . her excessive showboat of pride only halted when approached by an unknown male . he was attractive ; with high cheekbones and gorgeous almond - eyes unrivaled by many . but was this competition ? you're on high alert , until you hear his question : kowalski or kawasaki ? you can't help but chuckle . “ kowalski . unfortunately i'm not worthy of a last name like kawasaki or even wazowski . ”
pixelskylines
jbbartram-illu
2087
dededos
origamiaround
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