#hostis

[moonlady101]

"You want to know something even worse?"

"Dear gods, no," said Mago ; then "What?"

"Probably half of them are called Gaius."

I have no words for the book I just finished. A couple of years ago I made a post about finding a fanfic (one of the best written I have read) about Hannibal and Scipio after the Punic Wars; well, turns out the author wrote a book about them too. It's called Hostis, and the author is @enemyofrome. Not only the writting is very good, not only is the setting absolutely evocative, but the story is brilliant... what if Scipio hadn't gone to Spain with his father? What if he had been in Cannas and gotten captured by Hannibal? On top of all that, the protagonists aren't portrayed as heroes,they are so very human, Scipio calls his mother mama because he is only 18, Hannibal jokes with his siblings and they all hate Cato (seriously it's so funny to me that Cato is cabbage boy).

It has been a while since I enjoyed a historical novel so much. Go read Vale Aida's book and her fanfic on ao3. I promise it's worth it.

[resurgentclass-stardestroyer]

[Mon Mothma] pauses to consider her next words. "It is vital that we demilitarize our government so that a galactic war cannot happen like this again." The wind whips up and lifts [Hostis'] wispy hair from his liver-spotted head. "We are not yet at that day. We must show military strength. If we project weakness, the Empire will capitalize on it. Giving the war over to the fickle vagaries of politics will slow our response time, weaken our resolve, and make us appear vulnerable — in part because we will be vulnerable." [...] Mon Mothma sighs and says, "I will today put up a vote that resolves to cut our military presence by ninety percent once we are able to officially confirm an end to this war. [...] I am quite serious. Look around you. The dead on our side are not proper soldiers, no matter how much we pretend they are. They're farmers and miners, pilots and smugglers, all drawn into this conflict against the greater evil of the Empire. Once our conflict is over, what do we say to them? Keep fighting for us? Against what? To what end? For what ideal?" "For democracy, of course—" "Democracy is not in need of defense. People are. And it's why we'll keep that ten percent. A peacekeeping force. The rest of our efforts will go toward training the militaries of other worlds. We will be a true Galactic alliance, not a false one with an authoritarian sun at its center." Hostis scowls. Gravely he says: "Then we shall see only endless war, Chancellor. Smaller armies just means smaller civil wars all across the galaxy. It means oppression will grow like weeds and we won't have the eyes or the control to stop it. In this time of upheaval, the galaxy will need law and order and you will grand it only chaos. It is that vulnerability that caused the rise of the Empire in the first place. The people of the galaxy reaching out, looking for a central authority, desperate for protection..." [...] "We are not fighting the empire just to become the Empire. This is not a power grab, and that's what I want to show the galaxy. I want them to know that we trust them, as the Republic has always trusted them. If we're going to ask anybody to fight for us, they need to know what they're fighting for. And they will fight for a unified, democratic galaxy. Not one that merely pretends to be as it's squeezed tight in an unyielding fist. We must yield. And to your comment about earlier history... we will put safeguards in place. We will move forward, smarter this time. More aware."

— Star Wars: Aftermath (Interlude: Naalol)

[timextoxhajima]

The Misadventures of Ares: Promotionem

HOSTIS MASTERLIST

“Do I want to know if one of you will be reported missing tomorrow after I give you this information?” Dr. Choi has his left jaw snug in his left palm, head resting in his hand with his free one fiddling with the corner of a file. 

“With all due respect, Dr. Choi, I doubt you have much of a choice,” Hyunjae grits his teeth and bares them like he was cringing. You would love to agree with him on the spot, but that’s not a very smart thing to do now, no. 

The promotion was yours, and if it wasn’t, Dr. Choi might actually have to call 911 tomorrow when he doesn’t see your fiancé report to work. 

He raises a brow and provides a slight shrug at Hyunjae’s words, already tuned to his little remarks that could cause a fire, but not enough for him to fire him. The hospital couldn’t anyway, not when Hyunjae’s done more good than most doctors in the building. 

“I must have the both of you know that this promotion doesn’t mean anything. The paycheck is just about two or three thousand dollars difference and the working hours are still the same.”

A pause. He’s waiting for a reaction.

None. 

“No matter which one of you gets promoted at this point, the other can get a promotion far more honorable, you know?”

He pauses again.

Nothing.

Dr. Choi sighs in resignation. “Very well,” He opens the file. Hyunjae sucks in a deep breath and shrinks his left eye, like he was scared something was going to pop out of those ivory pages. “I would like to congratulate Dr. l/n for excelling at her job, and the hospital would like to present her with-”

“YYYYYYYYYEEEEESSSSSSSSSS!” Your fists are clenched so hard and pushed so fast up into the air, the sides of your chest hurt. “AHA! DIDN’T I TELL YOU I’D GET THE PROMOTION FIRST?”

“Dr. l/n,” The senior doctor calls out, yanking your ghastly triumph back down to Earth. You hadn’t realised you were inches away from Hyunjae’s face, doing nothing but ironically talking down to him as if you were ready to win a rap battle. 

“Oh,” Quick, embarrassed steps retreat you from your fiancé (and your loser of a colleague). “Sorry.”

Gaze stuck to the floor and your fingers tightly interweaved with one another, you cannot control the smile that’s erupting across your face. The glee, the satisfaction, the pure bliss that encapsulates your entire being in the form of a sheet of paper in front of you. 

“Very graceful, Dr. l/n.” Hyunjae’s voice sneaks up from your right, and the childish need to stick out your tongue at him overwhelms your need to remain professional. 

“Sometimes I question how you two made it past med school,” Dr. Choi looks up, over the rims of his glasses and raises a brow. The gesture earns a gentle huff from you as you turn away from Hyunjae. “Anyway, I’ll be sending you an email regarding the additional things you need to look out for, but for now, just keep up the good work.”

Clenching your fists in glee, you are snickering when you look up at Dr. Choi, who only turns to look at Hyunjae. “Doesn’t mean you can’t be the next to get a bigger promotion, Dr. Lee.”

“I know,” Hyunjae nods knowingly. The smug smirk directed at you rips out a sneer from your lips. “I trust you, Dr. Choi.”

You are halfway across the distance between you and your fiance, hand in the air and ready to slap it down against his arm when Dr. Choi raises both his hands, palms facing his audience and waving aggressively. 

“If you two want to fight over this miniscule promotion, please do it at elsewhere, possibly in the safety of your own homes.”

Hyunjae tuts loudly, walking around you and heading for the door of Dr. Choi’s office. “Thank you, Dr. Choi,” He pauses, and glances between you and the older doctor. “And do help me call the police and ambulance tomorrow if I don’t show up.”

Your lower jaw goes slack as Hyunjae purses his lips in mischief, quickly exiting the office before you can throw something at him. “You-!”

“Dr. l/n!”

The mandarin shades of the setting sun is reflecting off the champagne glass tower as you are shown to the rooftop restaurant. With the spectacular view of the city and the sights of exquisite food placed on perfect-white porcelain plates, this is the last thing you would’ve expected him to do. 

“Over here, Mr and Mrs Lee,” The waiter, who’s dressed in a suit that seemed mroe expensive than the clothes you were wearing now, gestures to a table for two nearest to the end where there was a gorgeous waterfall over the ledge and into the water catchment area below. “Here’s the menu. Today’s soup special is the Black Truffle Mushroom and I recommend that we get you started on a five-course seafood and steak meal with a Cabernet or Malbec.”

“Kitten, is there anything you don’t want before I get us started on that five-course?” 

Your eyes dart away from the glistening water below to look at Hyunjae, whose eyes are plastered to the menu while the waiter is standing by the table with his hands before his abdomen. 

“Uh- I-”

“We’ll both have the five-course. And make that two Cabernets. But is it alright if we change the soup special to Clam Chowder? It’s in the menu.”

The waiter takes the menu from Hyunjae that was being handed over. “Definitely. I’ll come by soon with the wine and soup.”

“Thank you.”

And with that, the waiter takes off with the menus and leaves you staring in awe at the view before you. Hyunjae peels your hand off the table and plants a kiss on the back of your hand, before cupping his own cheek in your palm.

“Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it,” As much as you wanted to slam a book in his face for teasing you infront of your mentor this morning, you couldn’t. How could anybody? “You really didn’t have to.”

“No, no,” Hyunjae releases your hand for you to keep. “I’m great at being gracious and this is it. You won the fight and you deserve a treat.”

“But my treat’s the promotion. I didn’t need this.”

Hyunjae leans back in his chair, with his emerald green blazer a capturing all the orange there is that settling on the fabric. His hair is slightly tousled, and it’s a miracle how it remains in its position. He never liked touching much wax or hairspray unless he knew he couldn’t afford it getting into his face. But his skin is so clear, it looks like glass. And his eyes are pearls in the clear blue sea when you look down in the sand. 

Then he looks at you with utmost genuine when he parts his lips, only speaking out enough for you to hear.

“At least let me enjoy celebrating your wins with you, even if you beat me to it.”

A gentle chuckle escapes your throat. “Is this how you won Minhee over, back when we were in school? With your... diabetic, sugar-infused speech?”

Hyunjae pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue and crosses his legs under the table. “That probably wouldn’t work - words don’t click like they do in her head as they do in ours.”

“That’s mean!” 

“Says you.”

The sound of your stomach gurgling stirs you in your sleep - which is weird. You've never had a problem with gastric or anything similar of the sorts. It's a surprise when your mouth starts flooding with saliva though, and you try to sit up in a bid to swallow down the need to hurl.

But a weight on your hip keeps you from sitting up completely, as so does Hyunjae's arm on your waist that keeps you pinned to the bed.

"Jae-" 

"Hmm? What is it?"

"Get your leg off me."

"No."

"Get your damn leg off me before I-"

There it is again.

Hyunjae can feel your physique squirm against his chest. The feeling of queasiness lurches up your stomach and into your throat and finally it becomes unbearable. He isn't given a chance before you literally slide out from underneath him and bolt for his bathroom, and before you know it you're on your knees with your dinner and dessert being hurled out into the toilet bowl.

"Jesus, are you okay?" Hyunjae squats next to you after turning on the bathroom light. "Was it something you ate?"

The stench of the remnants in the toilet bowl stinks up the whole bathroom, and your slightly limp hand reaches out for the flush. "I don't know. I don't think so- you're not puking."

"Well- I could have a stronger stomach than you."

Sitting your bum to the cold tiles of the floor, your eyes naturally start shooting daggers at your fiancé. "You really know when to say the best things, don't you?"

The mischief in him slips away, replaced with a gentle smile as he presses his hand to your forehead. "Well, you're not having a fever so it probably isn't food poisoning."

"Never mind," Your hand searches for something solid to help you up, but Hyunjae interrupts you and slides his arms under your knees and your back instead. "I can get a check up at the hospital tomorrow when I check into work."

"Can't you take the day off and get your check up elsewhere?"

"We literally work at the hospital," Your bum leaves the floor as he carries you out, stopping by the switch on the wall to turn off the light. "Isn't it common sense to make use of that?"

Hyunjae hums, making it to his bed in about 5 or 6 steps. The cushion sinks under your weight when he puts you down in bed, and he crawls over you playfully, with his arms perching his torso above yours.

"You're so cute when you need me to take care of you," He pecks your nose and forehead.

"I don't need any taking care, Sir," Your fingers dig into his cheeks as you squish them, forcing his lips into an 'o'. "You're cuter, by the way."

Hyunjae grins widely, eyes still sleepy. Then he topples over and scoops you into his chest like a child holding a puppy, lips against your forehead as his gentle breathing takes you away into your slumber.

"Why did you even bother to clock into work today when you're not feeling well?" The general practitioner frowns at you through the reflection of his laptop as he watches you slide the door of his office shut.

"Aw, not happy to see me?" The sarcasm was awfully heavy in your voice as the smirk remains plastered to your face. Dr. Kyung Won Jin whirls around in his roller chair and scoots over to his desk where you head for, automatically pulling your white coat so that you wouldn't sit on it.

"I think I'd like it more if we were... perhaps in a restaurant or a café catching up instead." He takes your temperature and blood pressure.

"I would but I'm swamped," The blood pressure arm strap tightens around your skin and muscle. 

"Not to mention that promotion I heard you got yesterday, right?" He smiles, turning to his laptop and letting some program run.

The satisfaction wells your chest. "So you've heard!" 

"How could I not, when the entire department heard you yelling about it in Dr. Choi's office?"

A low chuckle collects the atmosphere as he removes the blood pressure strap. He clicks a pen and jots down the number, but it's not enough to catch your attention.

"Well, had to make sure to rub it in his face."

"Would've been there to see it myself... but, probably didn't want to be around when y'all are hurling things at each other."

"News flash, we didn't throw anything at each other," You grin at Dr. Kyung, who pulls out a needle and a blood tube.

"Nice to know," He wraps a band around your forearm before lifting the syringe. "Hold still for me, yeah?" Dr. Kyung starts pulling on the syringe. "So, how did he take it? Did he give you the cold shoulder?"

All you can remember from the previous day was the warmth of the sunset and the coolness from the starry night sky.

"Nah," A sweet smile overcomes your greed to flaunt your triumph. "He took me out for a dinner date."

"Aww," Dr. Kyung pouts cutely, eyes flitting back and forth between the blood tube and you. "So, when's the wedding? You've already registered your marriage, haven't you?"

"Well, yes. But the wedding's gotta wait," Dr. Kyung pulls out the needle, pressing a cotton pad to your tiny wound that you press into your arm. "I don't think we can afford the time to plan one now. We were already busy before and now with the promotion... Nah."

"Mm," He hums, sticking the blood tube into one of those test tube holders.

"That's a bummer. But if you do have a wedding, I'd hate to miss it."

Dr. Kyung helps you paste a plaster before you get up and take your leave.

"Of course not. Anything for you, Dr."

The marble counter is slightly stained with cream sauce and some pepper when the pasta is done cooking, and Hyunjae wraps his arms around your waist in a bid to plant little kisses into the back of your neck.

"You're already not helping and you want to pull this stunt now?"

Hyunjae turns off the stove before you're done and turns you around, letting you lean against the edge of the counter. "Who said I didn't help? I got the groceries and I set the table."

You can taste the butter from the garlic bread he was told to make when he presses his lips into yours.

"I told you to help with the garlic bread, not eat them," Hands on his chest, you pull away but unable to escape from between his hands on the edge of the counter.

"I was hungry, let me live a little, would you?" His fingers find your chin and bring them to his face again. The smile that stretches across his lips when you can't resist the kiss he's offering tastes like-

Then Hyunjae's right arm finally leaves the counter, and his left rests on your waist instead. His lips don't leave yours until he finds the vibrating device in the back pocket of his pants.

"Mm, hi- Dr. Kyung," He manages between the kisses. "Mhm- yes- she was just- cooking-"

Of all times to call...

"Right- the blood test- Mhm-"

Then he abruptly screeches to a halt, and your lips are left alone like ditching a puppy along the street.

"Ugh, will you hang up and just-"

"No, shut up, kitten," He shows you his palm as he transfers more attention to the person on the other end of the line, his left hand still gentle on your waist.

Rolling your eyes, you turn back to the pan and pour out your dinners into two plates that you bring to the table.

"It's my blood test," You mumble to yourself, annoyed. After setting down the food, you finally turn around to look at him, hands on your hips. Your lips are already parted to ask him to hang up and just come for dinner if it's nothing important, but he beats you to it.

"Kitten," The phone is held a distance away from his ear, his eyes flickering like satellites in the sky. "You're pregnant."

[athousandgateaux]

What insurrection promises is civil war, as in the indefinite suspension of the social. If there are no rules in war, then there are no identities left to affirm in civil war. There is nothing to praise in the unjustness of war, except that it lays bare the starkness of how social categories promise peace but  only deliver war. Behind every claim to an identity is a history of suffering, colonialism, violence, and exploitation that renders meaningless the statements of ‘proudly’ claiming ‘our’ identity. We should not pride ourselves on the victories of our enemies, but rather pride ourselves in finally coming to terms with the freedom to have been done with any identity whatsoever. This line of thought, taken up by Dylan Rodriguez and his work on Filipino American identity, leads to only one conclusion: “there really cannot exist a Filipino or ‘Filipino-American’ subject, or collective identity...” The challenge of civil war is to retain all of this statement’s polemical force and extended it to all identities. In the present society, there cannot really exist any identity category, except in recognizing how it only produces the opposite of the desired, stable, identity it promises; every identity merely tells the story of war–wars past and wars to come–and the asymmetrical power formations that have brought bodies to their present collective moment.

Hostis, “Introduction to the Politics of Cruelty” from Hostis 1, pg. 12

[inutilidadeaflorada]

A risada de Medusa Invocara manticoras Caçariam o mito romântico Que precipitava o ceifador A corrida dura Que nunca saí do lugar Enquanto se é soterrado de verbetes Enterrem-me junto de meus pecado, não glórias Eu sou uma palavra enigmática Embaralhada Que significada desprazer Olá, despeço-me antes do começo Vês a devoção à cutículas? És a preparação ao meu banquete Sem fome e em jejum parcial Claramente, antes preciso comer a sobras de meus lábios Cegueira na terra justa: Auto proclamada ao amor Quem diria o dito corroído A verdade mais vil e plural de todas O perdão se torna belo Frente a plateia O pecado se torna pleno Em frente a uma plateia A fera linha em míngua de paz Apunhalando cinquenta pombas brancas Para nomear-se enfim a única virtude Em mares hostis de copo, cerca de mil marujos voltam Descrito como zelo Interpretado como enfermo Regozijado como beleza Recitando uma eterna tristeza...

Enfileirado Entre Vertigens e Codinomes - Pierrot Ruivo 

[simcataris]

Hey everyone

Just wanted to let you know that I won't be posting for a few days, I'll be back on sunday!

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter XII: Terminus, Limit

Previous Chapter (XI: Et Invisibilia Filum)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): drama, comedy, suggestiveness

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“he’s not the one who’s got you wrapped around his finger.”

red, pink or peach?

tch.

unbelievable.

changing your choice of lipstick because of lee hyunjae?

who am i?

where am i?

you yank the cap off the peach lipstick and start to trace it along your mouth, but a loud, prolonged honk crashing its way through the calm morning startles you, and a peach line gets drawn off your upper lip.

an agitated groan escapes your throat while you wipe the mistake off, and you start to speed up your application of make up, including on your neck.

the honks start to become more frequent, and by frequent you mean like once a fucking minute. 

you find your briefcase and push yourself out through the door, locking it while yelling at him over your shoulder. 

“neighbours are not going to be happy about this!”

“it’s your fault you took so damn long! what are you taking so long for anyway?! there’s literally no amount of make up that can correct how hideous you look!”

your eyes roll in plain sight as you skipped down the steps, and he gets back into the drivers’ seat without helping you with your door. 

the sky was clear today, in stark contrast to the day before. the roads were already bustling with vehicles driving back and forth, some cars had students in them, some cars with some rich guy driving off to work, some were lorries. 

your attention was suddenly yanked back into the car when your jaw was pulled away from the window, and his touch on your chin pissed you off for some reason. 

“interesting choice of lipstick,” he tilts his head and raises a brow, his eyes glued to your lips. a little bit annoyed, you lift your head out of his hold and swat his hand away, suddenly aware of the layer of foundation you had around your neck. his marks from the party four days ago were still there. 

the ache between your legs was gone, but not his stupid territorial marks.

what does he think he is? an animal?

“peach is a common shade, don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

he chuckles and lands both palms on the steering wheel, the light thwack earning your attention from the side of your eyes. 

his grip on the steering wheel pumped up all the veins in his hands, and the lone one or two arteries were showing on the back of his wrists. they trailed along his forearms and disappeared under his rolled up sleeves, and in your peripheral vision, you notice the white dress shirt he was wearing looked a tad tight around his shoulders and chest. 

the car jerks as it moves off, and it also jerks you back into your senses.

fuck’s wrong with me-- ew.

no.

you shut your eyes tightly and open them extremely wide, vision looking straight out the window in complete disgust with yourself. 

traffic was pretty light, given how early it was, and hyunjae must’ve still been in his morning mood because he doesn’t say anything either. 

but hatred and resentment for someone will never be able to match up to hatred and resentment you could harbour against yourself.

your heart was fucking racing for some godforsaken reason when the car starts to reverse into the parking lot.

he wasn't even looking at you -- hell -- it's almost like you weren't in the car.

his arm comes around the passengers seat and his strength pushes the seat forward just slightly, and him turning around to look at the rear of the vehicle reversing does nothing but pull the material around his shoulders and chest even more.

the black tie falls to the center console, and your reflexes decided that turning your head to look at him was a great idea.

the muscle in his neck was strained as he looked behind, and there was a vein shyly exposing itself on his skin under his ear. the contours of his jaw makes your lips feel so unsettled that you had to suck them between your teeth.

the white material that gets stretched around his torso puts stress on the buttons, and his skin was peeking out from the tiny gaps between them.

stop fucking looking man--

the arm that was still reached out for the steering wheel now had the two arteries on display, and the sight in general, coupled with the shitty lighting of the carpark, was making you feel things you shouldn't be feeling.

the car finally stops reversing and you look away, slightly panicked and in shame. his ears were slightly red from the effort, but the blood quickly dissipates once returns into his seat to pull the car into parking mode.

you stay completely still in your seat while he checks all the gears, and there was this nagging voice in your head telling you to cut it out.

but he suddenly reaches across you, his forearm with his stupid arteries just inches away from your chest as he pushes your door open.

not only that, he pulls away only enough for him to rest his palm on your right thigh.

every nerve and muscle freezes, and you were so grateful that they didn't tense up; he would've felt it.

the heat from the carpark swarms into the vehicle as you feel him scan your face from the side, like you were too scared to look at him.

he gives your thigh a small stroke before removing it, hands running all over the gears once more as he says, "get out, i don't think i want to be seen together."

after clocking into your offices, hyunjae leaves for his rounds while you stay in yours to refresh the patient’s records. 

work was such an efficient method to fit you into reality, a place where you could divert and dedicate all your attention to your profession and taking care of patients. 

rather than that annoying man next door. 

your press your peach-tainted lips together and rub them, the layer of coating becoming drier and more stuck to the lines on your lips. the classical music runs its course in the background before your phone alarm sounds, cuing you to start on your rounds before you head over to the research department before lunch. 

hyunjae was already seated in his cubicle and walking around to different research officers to ask some questions about something he was doing. meanwhile, eric greets you with a hug when he walks past the lift you were in.

“y/n! good morning!” 

the physical contact stuns you, but you remind yourself that eric was american-born.

“someone’s in a great mood,” a grin spreads on your face and you watch as he carefully pulls away, a cup of hot coffee in his hands. 

“oh, my god, you’ve got no idea,” he turns and walks to his desk, but his face was still tilted to the side so you could hear him as you followed. “the storm yesterday was insane.”

the enthusiasm in eric’s voice was so contagious, the grin never comes off your face. walking your way to your cubicle, hyunjae stops just close enough for him to say something that was loud enough for you to hear.

“don’t you dare try any funny ideas.”

confusion and slight resentment befall on your face as he walks away, a sneer appearing on your lips before eric catches your attention again. 

his mug was on his table now, and he’s got his butt planted to his chair, rolling his way over to you. 

so cute.

your briefcase gets laid on the table and you start up the computer, eric fiddling around on his phone while waiting for you to sit down so he could start his story. 

“you were saying?” using your feet to position your chair near enough, you slump into your seat and lean back, hyunjae in the distant background getting up from his seat and walking over to another research officer’s cubicle again.

“the thunderstorm blew down this tree right outside my friends’ place yesterday and their car was super wrecked,” the phone gets fished out and he shows you the picture. 

“oh, my god,” your palm covers your mouth at the devastating picture, a picture you’d probably only see in newspapers. “nobody got hurt right?” 

“oh, no,”  eric shakes his head and removes the phone out from your sight. “everybody’s fine.”

“that’s a relief,” the computer screen lights up and your eyes naturally turn towards it, eric still fiddling with his phone. 

“also, y/n, i can’t believe i’m saying this but i accidentally deleted your number yesterday after i got it.”

“you what?” a chuckle breaks free from your lips and you turn to eric, hands already at the desk where your keyboard is.

“yeah, i may or may not have saved it before exiting the page and it’s just gone.”

unbelievable.

“but i’d still like to ask you to hang out sometime soon, so do you want to go for dinner tonight after work or something?” 

your lips part with an answer in mind, but your vision zooms out into wide view and your attention lands on lee hyunjae. 

one arm resting on the cubicle partition, the other hand holding the research document file to his torso, and his eyes glued to you. there was a pen being twirled around in his fingers, and the look in his eyes looked too tempting to manipulate. 

he was warning you.

“dinner after work?” the eye contact breaks and you return your attention to eric. “i have rounds till 6, maybe later, though so if you’re willing to wait then--”

“doctor l/n!” 

eric snaps his head around when hyunjae calls for you, and he was waving the research document file in the air while he walked along the cubicles and stopped between the two of you. 

“sorry... eric,” hyunjae says the name like he hated it. “can i just steal her for a bit-- i got instructions from doctor choi--”

“doctor choi? why are we getting instructions fro--”

“can i just--”

“i’m gonna go...” eric points over his shoulders and glances at the two of you, his feet already pushing himself back to his seat. “tell me if you’re up for dinner tonight later, okay?”

watching him roll away because of lee hyunjae again was such a sour, bitter sight. hyunjae’s shadow covered you from the morning sun, and you angle your head upwards to squint at his features that were darkened from the silhouette. 

his shoe comes into sharp contact with your chair but it doesn’t make a sound besides startling you, and he turns so suddenly, his coat runs into your face. 

“you--” the hiss seethes out between your gritted teeth, and you purse your lips when you realise your lipstick got brushed onto his coat. your eyes widen when you see the small mark, but his one step was so large, he was already too far for you to call without distracting the other research officers in the space. 

the little blob of peach on his coat was so glaring to you, you worried if anybody else was going to see it. three steps became two while struggling to keep up with hyunjae as he walked off into the pantry again. 

the memory you associated with this place starts to flicker like a spoilt bulb in your head, but him dropping the research file on the table in the pantry knocks you out of your thoughts.

“which part of ‘don’t try any funny ideas’ did you not understand?”

so he’s bothered.

“i’ve got no clue what’s wrong with going out with eric though,” an arrogant brow perks itself up on your face and your arms cross your chest. his fingers brush across his forehead, and him being visibly stressed about a lame situation was really making your day. 

the sunlight was brimming in with sharp lines on the floor, the shadow of the window grills making grey squares on the floor behind him. 

a considerable amount of effort was spent to keeping your smirk to yourself, and the frustration that was radiating off him was being lapped up by your confidence like a dog drinking water after a walk. 

he finally stops pacing after a few steps and literally stops an inch away from your nose, the close proximity pulling your pupils away from his direction. 

“how can you even think of other men when you have my hickeys on your ne-- you know what?”

a pause.

“i’ve got two things i need you to know, kitten.”

oh, god

that name.

his scent starts wafting through your nose like poison gas and his breath hits you on your cheek with your face turned away. he was craning his head lower to level your eyes with his, though you were looking somewhere else. 

you tend to forget that he was the stronger ares. 

“one: you’re not available tonight. two: you can flirt with eric all you want but he’s not the one who’s got you wrapped around his finger.”

the reflection off the microwave oven shows you your distressed brows after you process his words, the pain of the truth seeping into your bones against your will and liking. 

your jaw and chin start to get traced with his finger before he pulls your face towards his, and your eyes were already going to shut themselves when you feel just the surface of his lips brush against yours. 

but he stops, and pulls away. 

that cocky smirk surfaces on his lips when he notices your annoyance, and he reverses to retrieve his research file off the table. 

“you seem to forget that i too can play this game, kitten.” 

the nickname kicks you in the gut once more, this time harder and more difficult to swallow. your hardened eyes freeze on his figure while he leaves the pantry, and your temples tighten with frustration when you start to realise he was going to spend the rest of the day proving his point. 

by the end of the day you’ve counted a total of ten times he’s brushed a hand across your waist, touched your hand, bumped shoulders into you, and all you could think of was shoving your research papers down his throat.

the physical contact was only alleviating your need for more, and it wasn’t to your liking that it had to be him. 

and that blotch of peach lipstick on his coat... there was no way he didn’t know it was there. 

was he just waiting for someone to point it out?

by the time you told eric that you wouldn’t be able to make it for dinner, you already had a ton of electricity in your body. 

and by electricity you mean unwarranted displeasure. 

your rounds concluded almost on time, so returning back to the office to find hyunjae idling outside yours was like a nightmare. 

“what do you want now?” the office door clicks open and he follows you in while you pull off your coat and pack your things. 

“what do you mean ‘what do i want’? i told you to tell eric you’re not available tonight because you’re not.”

why did i tell eric i wasn’t available when i didn’t even have a reason...?

“am i expecting to be drugged out and tied to a chair--”

“well, if you’d like that--”

“stop,” you warn with a finger in the air, briefcase already in hand before you turned off the main switch for the stereo. “not another word.”

“request declined,” he looks at you with eyes you should be becoming familiar with, his tongue poking the inner side of his ride cheek. he shifts his weight on his feet and a small smile appears on his lips, the sight of it all only encouraging you to wonder just what the fuck is wrong with you?

you give in first and turn away, picking up your briefcase to exit the office with him tailing you. the lift takes forever to come, and some other doctors come by to speak to him, greeting you in the process. 

“leaving together?”

“yeah, we are.”

what?

“oh, to where?”

to hell--

“my place. we had a little deal for her to give me her opinions on my culinary skills.”

the lift door opens and the ride was so painful to swallow. hyunjae just went off about cooking and being his mother’s helper in the kitchen when he was younger and blablabla...

and the other doctor gets off at another floor while the lift continues down to the basement.

the heat of the carpark swamps the lift when the doors open, yet he doesn’t bother to tell you to follow him. “why the hell am i going to your place to eat dinner?” 

silence.

“lee hyunjae!”

“can you just shut up and get in the car? i don’t want to be seen by anybody else.”

a look of disapproval slaps onto your face as you stormed over, the car beeping when he pulls the car door open. “wha-- you literally just told her that i’m going to your plac--”

“one more word...” the ribbon around your top gets tangled in his grip and pulled forward, just enough energy without him pulling it off. “kitten...”

not again.

“and i’ll make the day even harder for you to tolerate.”

his breath hits your lips when he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip, and he dramatically releases the ribbon around your neck. 

“get in. i don’t think you’ll need eric to help you into the car, do you?” 

“you--”

the sudden lack of vocabulary crushes you when his soul dug his way through his pupils, and the light from the car park glimmers off the whites of his eyes. he angles his neck so carefully and it exposes the vein right under his right ear. your knuckles whiten when your grip around your briefcase tightens, and your legs turn to jelly for a split second.

“get in the car, or i’ll show you what it means to be wrapped around someone’s finger,” he drags his finger across your chin and looks at your lips for a second, quickly looking back up at yours without leaning any closer. 

“and right now you’re already halfway there to being wrapped around mine, kitten.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter XIII: Inferno

A/N: i felt like this was a rlly shitty chapter imo but it wouldn’t have been complete if i didn’t include this in the line up. it’s really to show the change in dynamics between the two of them so i hope it isn’t too hard to swallow ;(

[athousandgateaux]

This is not a simple call to transgression. Our enemies have wised up and few include virtuosity in their marketing campaigns. They realize that everyone wants to feel at least a little transgressive these days. The recession of saintly figures does [not] mean that morality tales have disappeared. Virtuousness now appears in negative; wickedness is paraded in front of audiences for them to ‘make their own decision.’ It hardly works, though, as postmodernism took the piss out of disruption–little is truly shocking anymore. Frat boys love either American Psycho or Fight Club, depending on their mood. There are plenty of stock brokers that read Bukowski and defense analysts who refuse to miss ‘Girls’ on Sunday nights. This confirms a suspicion many have had about the radical potential of cultural politics obsessed with its own marginality: rather than condemning badness, today’s depictions of transgression end up making it mundane.

Hostis, “Introduction to the Politics of Cruelty” from Hostis 1, pg. 10