#‘holy shit people romanticize this’

[creekbed-burial]

“2014 aesthetic” “2016 aesthetic” im gonna shoot myself, what do you mean my teenage years are an aesthetic now???

[mel-tokio]

absolutely wild that the venn diagram of people who call millennials/gen z "entitled" and people who get up in arms about us wearing pajamas to the grocery store is just about a perfect circle

[keebwee]

smthn smthn i think people need to realize theres a difference between romanticizing something in media vs telling a story focused on that thing that may have an unreliable narrator/something similar

[ratatattouille]

Why The Arcane S2 Finale Fumbled, Part I

arcane season 2 was artistically beautiful and thematically cheap. every interesting and meaningful thing it did with its characters (even in season 2 act 2) was reduced to romanticized bullshit, utterly divorced from its season 1 roots. it's so bad it can be considered pro-status quo propaganda (and i do mean that). good ships aside (and i do mean the caitivi, jayvik, timebomb holy triad), this season squats and shits on every zaunite character in the show. not just their zaunite-ness, but how it literally shaped who they were as characters.

Let's start with Vi:

Vi and Vander:

Vi's loyalty to The Lanes always went beyond Powder. Zaun was her father's, Vander's dream. Zaun was her friends and her family. When she's giving Caitlyn a tour of The Lanes, we see how much she embodies and revels in Zaunite culture (esp in the food scene). She took responsibility for the vulnerable, like Vander taught her to. Her "protective" trait extended to ALL the vulnerable in The Lanes, because Vander taught her that. It wasn't EVER just Powder. Zaun is her HOME. As a child, she wanted to make a name for herself IN ZAUN "one day, this city's gonna respect us." You can make the excuse that Vander's death meant that side of her died, but it clearly didn't because of how she regarded it while showing Caitlyn around. "Family" to Vander, extended to the vulnerable of Zaun, which is how Vi and Powder came to be his "daughters" in the first place. Because Zaun was for THEM. Zaun WAS THEM. Vander and Silco "weren't allowed to fail" at Zaun (i.e. the two daughters).

Additionally, Vi and Jinx were supposed to succeed where Vander and Silco hadn't: forgiving each other and uniting so they could realize their dream for a free Zaun. A big reason why Zaun struggles to be free is because of their own internal divisions (the different gangs fighting for scraps). But if they united, they would be able to liberate themselves from Piltover (who is still the enemy). The whole reason the others are prosperous in the alternate timeline Ekko and Heimerdinger travel to is because Vander and Silco reconcile (not because Vi dies).

Vander also passes on his sense of responsibility to Vi. He tells a repeatedly vengeful Vi how her ambition to show up her oppressors can overshadow the more pressing priority of looking after those more vulnerable than her i.e. Powder. Like Silco, his advice to his daughter is steeped in his own trauma of getting so zealous he didn’t stop to think what it would cost.

Vi and Caitlyn:

Caitlyn was an interesting development for Vi, particularly because Caitlyn mirrored Vander's care for all people. Caitlyn was an enforcer that wanted to truly understand and help people. This challenged Vi's biases and also gave them a common goal. Caitlyn appealed to Vi because she gave Vi renewed hope for peace in The Lanes. That Zaun could be free through co-operation instead of violence. Her whole teaming up with Caitlyn, romance aside, was predicated on Vi brokering for peace between Zaun and Piltover (and getting revenge on Silco).

The first break-up between the two (Season 1's "Oil and Water") centred around Jinx, more or less. Vi believes Silco is a threat to peace between Piltover and Zaun (even though The Lanes aren't known as Zaun to her, I'm just using the names interchangeably). She believes Jinx is acting out due to Silco's influence, as well (and she isn't wrong). Had Caitlyn not been injured on the bridge (and had Jinx not felt betrayed by Vi), Vi was going to leave her in pursuit of Jinx. Vi has also never fit into Piltover (and that's also shown in Season 2 act 1-2). She makes no connections with Piltovians besides Cait and (an already disillusioned) Loris who we see for like two seconds.

Vi and Jinx:

This show was ALWAYS about a tale of two sisters/cities. When Vi becomes an enforcer, it isn't because she's switched loyalties. She wants peace for The Lanes, she just wants to take Silco's creation--Jinx--out of the equation so it can work. Her priority, like Vander’s, is to keep the vulnerable of The Lanes safe, and both were willing to co-operate with Piltover to protect the people they loved. She believes, like Vander did with Silco, that Jinx (and by extension Zaun) is her responsibility. That the reason bad things happened to Zaunites (Vi’s and Powder’s parents dead on the bridge, Jinx’s mania) is their fault.

Vi blames herself for creating Jinx as Vander does for creating Silco. The only reason Vi agrees to Caitlyn's plan is because, again, their two goals align: get Jinx. The difference is Vi wants to kill Jinx to kill Silco, while Cait wants to kill Jinx to get her city (mother) back. Vi is still explicitly concerned about Jinx, who she has come to see as a threat to other people she loves (e.g. Ekko, Cait, etc). Vi became an enforcer to protect The Lanes and the (appearance) of peace. Vi internalized Vander’s words and doesn’t want war, even if it means Zaun never becomes independent. But she is doing it as penance for what she feels she didn’t do that led Jinx to become what she is.

The show in season 2 TOTALLY LOST THIS FOCUS. Vi's guilt at hunting down her own people with enforcers is ALSO ignored a lot by fandom, especially because her post-breakup scene where she goes full goth is framed as regret for letting Cait down (rather than the self-disgust she would feel for joining her oppressors). Vi played a part in creating Jinx and her enforcer-arc is still centred around Jinx. This gets shoved aside for romance with Cait. All the time we could spend post-breakup focusing on the sisters, quickly circles back to Cait.

Cait, who, literally became a dictator and weaponized the air ducts her mother had created to SAVE ZAUNITES. The whole thing is viewed as Vi betraying Cait instead of Vi betraying Jinx/Zaun/her family and Cait betraying Vi ("promise me you won't change") and her mother. Cait was the one who sought to help Zaun (like her mother) but betrayed who she was when she was willing to kill Isha, an innocent child.

Vi would feel even more guilty at how she is literally in an enforcer's suit when she is about to kill Jinx, the only family she has left. She is literally hunting down Jinx, a Zaunite, like the enforcers had her parents. But we barely explore that. It’s just off to chasing Vander/Warwick only for it to not matter anyways!

(ALSO IMPORTANT: Just to further prove my point on how integral the sister's love for each other was, every show started with a record playing. The cover of the disc was Vi and Jinx. They were always the center focus of the story. The song that the record played? Likely "Our Love" by Curtis Harding and Jazmine Sullivan which goes "Our love is a bubblin' fountain, our love, that flows into the sea, our love, deeper than the ocean, our love for eternity." This love deeper-than-the-ocean can apparently crumble in the face of a dictator girlfriend you've known for less than a year lmao).

Summary of Fumbles:

-Vi's and Jinx's relationship becomes secondary not just to the entire plot of the show but to Vi's arc. Zaun and Piltover's conflict was set up to be the epitome of the show, and the fact that it got shelved for some (ahem military propaganda) epic battle between humans and robots is very telling about the writers and showrunners.

-Vi forgives Cait easily and prematurely, trashing Vi's true loyalties as established in earlier seasons/episodes and robbing Cait’s actions of their appropriate weight.

-(above is an excerpt from Amanda Overton's interview with TheGamer) The culmination of love for Vi's character ends with Caitlyn and not Jinx. Vi's character, whose love is explicitly centred on Zaun and her family, reaches its peak in romance with a Piltovian. To quote Amanda further: "If Vi had no one left to protect, she would fall in love." As if Vi had no ambition outside of protecting her family. As if her dream since she was a kid wasn't tied so much into Zaun. As if the reason she wore an enforcer outfit wasn't because of Zaun. As if Zaunites aren't suffering right under her nose. As if she was the only kid in Stillwater Prison and struggled to survive the whole time she was there. I can't pretend to stomach it. (Again, it's not that Vi shouldn't be happy, it's that the ship had to shove this aspect of her character aside for it to work). If they wanted to really commit to the Vi-in-video game origin story, they should have set it up better and stuck to it.

-Vi herself takes a back seat in most of season 2, and becomes a passive, guilt-riddled yes-man to Cait

-Vander's re-introduction is almost completely worthless to the plot and narrative (he comes back just to die), and he is used as a cheap way to re-unite (and then separate) the daughters in a way that has no significance to the themes (also, Silco as Jinx's father is completely ignored during this time)

-Cait's deferral to fascism should have been permanent. Idc about the shippers at this point. Vi and Cait should have never come back from Cait shoving the back of her gun into Vi's injured side (let alone the gassing of the ducts). Vi would've never forgiven her, attraction or no. The fact that Cait could become a dictator after losing one parent is proof of their class divides (after all, Vi held onto hope despite losing all her parents to enforcers and Jinx was all she had left of her family). That should have cemented the death of that relationship (and it would have made for more compelling storytelling on class). I’m thinking it was kept because it matters more to white Western audiences to have a Romeo x Juliet rendition that assuages their classist sensitivities. Cait becoming a fascist made sense and was true to her character and the world. Vi forgiving her (and then having sex with her in the prison she was thrown into as a child?) destroyed both her character and the narrative.

Yeah, yeah, Vi was overwhelmed by the breadth of love and forgiveness Caitlyn had in letting Jinx go, but that's bare minimum shit. Vi "always choosing wrong" because she *checks notes* keeps trying to reconcile with her sister instead of letting her go since she isn't Powder anymore? So she resolves her guilt by choosing her own pleasure and putting herself first for once. Okay, I don't have a problem with that except that Vi and Jinx were supposed to succeed where Vander and Silco hadn't--by reconciling! And you still won't get me to like the fact that so much of Vi's character arc gets held up in a Piltovian who encouraged her to do the worst shit to her OWN PEOPLE and then fucking turned on her when she couldn't kill her sister. It is frankly amazing how we're supposed to celebrate Caitlyn literally coming between the sisters. I'd rather Vi forgiving Jinx than Caitlyn. And if the whole appeal of Vi's relationship with Caitlyn is that she was overwhelmed with love for how Caitlyn forgave Jinx after she killed her mother, I don't see how a relationship with Cait automatically makes Vi feel less guilty, since Cait also makes her feel guilty for choosing Jinx (remember her accusation "you will always choose her" like sorry I don't want to kill my orphaned, traumatized sister who I ripped into for making an honest mistake as a child and who has carried that since). Caitlyn (as others have pointed out) got a whole ceremony for her mother and instantly turned on Vi's people. The Vi I know would have been like, "You really are all the same," and FUCKING DIPPED. And there's a little acknowledgement of this in act 1 where Vi accuses Caitlyn of acting like Jinx.

Both Jinx and Caitlyn are emotional labour for Vi. Vi still wants to protect Caitlyn from Jinx. There's not that much of a difference, lol, except that Caitlyn is a privileged Piltovian and Jinx is a victim of the abysmal childhood she suffered at the hands of enforcers. Yet the show is more or less saying Vi pursuing reconciliation with Jinx was a bad choice for Vi and the reason the cycle of violence continued (for some reason). The sister reconciliation was what I was here for, personally. Cute ships aside. But noooo, Vi should forgive Cait (not Jinx) to stop the cycle.

And having jail sex is a liberating act for her because it's where they had their meet-cute. (And we're all good bc Caitlyn gave up the Kiramman seat, lmao, like sure okay).

It's frankly made the ship that much more unpalatable. If Vi had to be destroyed as a character for the ship to work, then the ship wasn't all that good (even though it started off that way). It's honestly left such a bad taste in my mouth. What a fuck you to oppressed groups that whole subplot was. (And it's made worse by the fact that the creator thought that was somehow an empowering and liberating act for Vi, like fuck that).

Let's Talk About Victor:

Viktor and Heimerdinger:

Heimerdinger and Viktor were the most polar of opposites. Heimerdinger was not only a privileged, ulta-wealthy Piltovian, but he had a comparatively endless lifespan while Viktor's own human life-span was cut short due to being a Zaunite, born at the bottom of the barrel and raised on toxic fumes that led to his terminal illness. Viktor's desperation to unlock the Arcane was explicitly about him overcoming his circumstances, his illness, his premature death. It wasn't merely about his internalized ableism, but the unjust way in which he had to suffer. Heimmerdinger could afford patience because he had all the time and resources in the world, but Viktor didn't. Not merely because he was a mortal, but because he was a Zaunite.

Viktor and Singed:

Viktor's arc with hextech is foreshadowed with his childhood interaction with Singed. I understand that in the games, Viktor is a villain-type character and his catchphrase or whatever is "Join the Glorious Evolution," which the show hinted at from Season 1 when Singed explained his experiments to Viktor. While Viktor is horrified by Singed killing the creature that he eventually uses for shimmer, Viktor later says, "I understand," hinting that he saw the sacrifice (and death) necessary to "heal" the world of its ailments. Both Viktor and Singed grow up in The Lanes, and both have ailments they want to cure (for Viktor it is his lung cancer and for Singed its his daughter's dying). In season 2, Viktor tells Singed that while he understands what healing all those people could cost him, he will not sacrifice their humanity for Singed's cause. This is because of Sky’s death (which is partly why it is her who is in the Arcane with him).

Sky’s death is what makes Viktor beg Jayce to destroy the hex core, since he couldn’t do it himself. He is willing to die if that means no more innocent people do. But here’s where I get a little touchy. VIKTOR didn’t KNOW she was there. Viktor was simply desperate to live. Sky’s death was not malicious (even if it’s true to his character that he’d feel guilty anyways). It is at this point that Viktor has Jayce promise him to destroy the hex core (and by god is this where a lot of my contention with the finale comes from). Also, it is important to note that Viktor’s self-loathing is depicted only in regard to Sky’s death (NOT HIS BAD LEG). Now Viktor feels guilty not just for Sky’s death, but also necessarily for trying to live (AND PLEASE KEEP THIS IN MIND). TRYING TO LIVE is subtly treated as an AMBITION that, for Viktor, interfered with his ethics. (And please note that in the end, Singed, who repeatedly embraces unethical practices for reviving his dying daughter gets what he wants).

Anyway, in S2, Jayce blasts Viktor in the chest and all that conviction goes out the window. All this despite Sky (his conscience and “humanity”) being there with him in the astro-nether. Now Viktor's idea of becoming a higher being is just getting rid of emotion (apparently because Jayce did it or something). Jayce killing him without explanation was all of a sudden all he needed to become a divine dictator. The same Viktor that looked terminal illness in the face and preferred to spare others instead of himself? The same Viktor who's immediate action after waking up with a new body was to go and use the arcane he wished had been destroyed to help others? Because the arcane is corrupting him? That’s convenient for a certain political narrative. Especially because anyone would hesitate pressing a button (in Viktor’s case smashing the hex core) that would guarantee their death. Viktor was being human, not corrupt.

Viktor and Jayce:

Now, I think Jayce's speech had some merit and could have been framed better with a little more time and thought. The philosophical idea of perfection or a perfect world (one which Piltoverians strive toward) being untenable, maybe even undesirable, is a fascinating concept worth exploring. BUT MAKING IT ABOUT SOME INTERNALIZED ABLEISM FROM VIKTOR IS FUCKING STUPID!!!! I'm sorry, but Piltover being the city of progress until it actually included becoming progressive with Zaun was absolutely one of the things Jayce and Viktor's sub-plot was trying to explore.

Viktor WANTED TO LIVE. Viktor wanted his people to STOP SUFFERING. Viktor WAS RIGHT. He wasn't merely eliminating "imperfections" (and of FUCKING COURSE A PILTOVIAN WOULD SEE IT THAT WAY), he was trying to cure sick and dying people who did nothing to deserve it. He was buying them time that people like Jayce and Heimmerdinger had in spades, but Viktor and Zaunites had stolen from them.

Children dying of disease and violence in The Lanes was by Piltovian design! It was not some predestined cosmic necessity. Viktor WAS RIGHT TO HATE HIS FUCKING TERMINAL ILLNESS ARE THESE GUYS INSANE??! Wtf kind of message is Viktor embracing it as part of himself sending to vulnerable, impoverished and ill people? Is that supposed to be some kind of fucking comfort? Fuck off right to hell!

Like I'm glad if it resonated with any disabled people, but Viktor's struggle with his body was a protest against Piltover, not himself, and I hate that the writers gutted that character development. Viktor's and Jayce's paths "diverged a long time ago" because Jayce had the luxury and time of pursuing his dream while Viktor didn't. Viktor, even up there as a scholar of Piltover, was still getting the Zaunite treatment.

Jayce had the time to pursue a better world, while Viktor had to struggle for a little more time. When Viktor becomes part of the arcane, suddenly he has all the time in the world to realize HIS OWN DREAM. Why would wanting a better world for others have to result in "dreamless solitude"? Why does wanting progress equal wanting perfection? You are changing the subject and that is cheating!!!!

Viktor becoming obsessed with fixing what ailed humanity was warranted, and his extremism was hinted to have been due in part to the effect the arcane had on him, but it still made the themes of arcane a joke. There was so much potential and the writers (and showrunners) just squandered it for some more romantic bullshit.

The Glorious Fumblings (A Summary):

-"Humanity, our very essence, is inescapable. Our emotions, rage, compassion, hate. Two sides of the same coin, intractably bound. That which inspires us to our greatest good is also the cause of our greatest evil.” That's a neat quote, but wars don't start simply due to emotions or whatever. This lacks class analysis, and it's annoying that the writers made this the whole theme of season 2 (and retroactively the show) in a story on class divides. Cait did not merely gas the Zaunites because of her mother, but because of her privileged upbringing that made it more acceptable to her to view Zaunites as animals (remember Ekko telling her enforcers “hunt us down like animals"). Cait knew the humanity of Zaunites was real. She just chose to ignore it because she could afford to. While it is interesting that Viktor would come to see being human as a flaw that destroys any hope of achieving peace (conflict theory would like a word with you), it ignored that fascism is not an inherently human trait and detracts from how or why it persists in the first place. It's almost the same as saying men/white people oppress women/poc because the latter were mean to them. It's victim-blaming (and false lmao). The British didn't colonize the Americans because the natives did anything to them. All prejudice is unjustified, that's what makes it prejudice. Again, Cait became a fascist when her mom died, but Vi still drew the line at killing children and even council members despite losing every single one of her family members to Piltover's violence against The Lanes. AND THAT’S JUST IT. Why the Zaunites do what they do isn’t simply because of love and hate, but because of the desperate circumstances they are forced into by their oppressors. Why the Piltovians do what they do, isn’t because of love or hate, but because they are bread in luxury and affluence. Pretending that’s not the case is an insult to the work put into Arcane’s first season (and anyone with a brain and basic empathy).

-Jayce's speech would have been cute in another story, but it's downright insulting in Arcane's. Yes, yes, Jayce's words would have been the only ones to have broken the real Viktor out of Arcane Viktor's grasp by appealing to this deep childhood wound, but Viktor's desperation was not to belong (because his leg kept him from playing with other children) but TO LIVE (because he was dying of an illness). Jayce's speech isn't bad, just misplaced. Like most of the finale.

-Viktor did not have to become a fascist-aligned deity in his quest to heal people. It is a typical MCU thing to have a "villain" that's technically right and then destroy their entire character to make their (correct) philosophy untenable by making them do something extreme. Typical pro-status quo propaganda trope. I DON’T CARE if it was so we could get some game version of him. Viktor was right in bringing progress and his discoveries to The Lanes instead of devoting his efforts to Piltover, the fake city of progress.

-While I am annoyed that the climax of the show hinged on Jayce and Viktor and hextech (a tool to explore the inequalities of Piltover and Zaun) instead of Jinx and Vi, I think it kinda makes sense. Hextech built what Piltover has now become. Jayce, Viktor and hextech kinda represent Piltover (what it could be) and Jinx and Vi represent The Lanes (and the Zaun it could be). Both would have been integral, but the story shouldn't have hinged on hextech, IMO. Hextech should have remained a tool to explore the politics of both cities, but instead it overshadowed everything, cheapening the story's themes, characters and world-building.

-Jayce calling the Zaunites to arms was downright absurd. But not as absurd as Zaunites volunteering.

And Then There's Jinx:

Jinx and Isha:

Isha's only use, as far as I'm concerned, was to be a reconciling force between the sisters. When Cait was willing to shoot her to get to Jinx, that should have stopped Vi right there and brought her back to defending Jinx 100% I DON’T CARE. When Isha sacrificed her life to save Jinx, that should have been Jinx's wake-up call right there and helped her understand why Vi kept leaving her out of missions as a kid. But instead what do we get? Depressed, suicidal Jinx and an astoundingly even more resentful and indifferent Vi. Now Jinx sees herself as even more of a poison to those she loves (because she can’t protect them like Vi can and frequently kills them while trying to do so). Jinx, who has always wanted to be useful to those she loves. Who pursued her own hextech inventions in order to give her siblings a fighting chance when facing down Silco. Who wants to give Zaun a fighting chance as Silco's daughter (and Isha’s surrogate mother). To be useful to the goals and dreams of her family. Isha was the perfect opportunity to bring the sisters together and get Jinx to embrace all she is (both the Jinx that Vi rejects and the Powder that Silco rejected), but no. Instead, the kid was some kind of foreshadowing to Jinx's own heroic self-sacrifice for her sister (a message that left both sister's arcs unfinished). Or perhaps, Isha was a commentary on the cycle of violence. But that this sub-plot really wasn't needed given what we'd already established in Season 1.

Why do I say this?

Because the cycle of violence is not a "Jinx" issue, but a Piltover one, and the writers making it an interpersonal issue instead of a political/sociological one damaged the story and what Jinx's character could have meant to mentally ill people like her. It wasn't illogical storytelling, just far less meaningful than it could have been. It would have been more powerful and moving and impactful for Jinx to realize where the true cycle of violence (as established the whole fucking show from the dead parents on the bridge, to Vander and Silco, to Jinx and Vi, to Jinx and Ekko, to Isha and Warwick, to Cait and Vi, etc) was coming from.

Jinx needed to accept herself and the love others showed toward her (Silco, Vander, Ekko and Vi). Jinx keeps blowing things up because she repeatedly rejects herself (both Powder and Jinx), ignoring the good she's done and tried to do. Isha was a call back to the good Jinx has done and can continue to do for Zaun and others. Isha and Sevika understood (even though Silco unfairly set it up) that Jinx was actually their good luck, their hope, more than just a hex (pun intended) on the city. After all, Jinx made Sevika her new arm (even though she's the reason Sevika lost her arm in the first place), which further proves that Jinx had the capacity to fix some of what she broke. It would have been better for her to embrace responsibility and have the faith to try and fix things (ESP her relationship with Vi). While it is not unrealistic or necessarily bad writing that she would fake her own death to run away and start over (or just die) trying to save Vi, the arc people she represented deserved was her embracing Vi back, not accepting that she was a curse in Vi's life. And most definitely NOT romanticizing her pain.

Jinx and Ekko:

Ekko's and Jinx's relationship is precisely an exploration of how Piltover's violence against Zaun forced these children with entire futures ahead of them (they are both child prodigies) into endless war and hellish heroism. Ekko and Jinx are repeatedly shown to be hesitant and even unwilling to participate in violence against others, especially their own. Ekko does not hate Jinx, though he wants to, and Jinx does not like who she is when she's violent. She is trigger-happy because she already expects Vi and Ekko to want to kill her (projecting her self-loathing on them, but not entirely unreasonably). She doesn't have faith in their love or mercy because she doesn't see any part of herself as redeemable or loveable, which is why she consistently sabotages her life (but not without help from Vi and others).

Ekko and Jinx are symbols of progress for Zaun AND Piltover (and Heimerdinger saw that, especially when Ekko insisted he had to go back to his timeline, even if the one he had landed in was better). Heimmerdinger saw what they could have been in the alternate timeline, all the genius that was squandered in The Lanes. Jinx and Ekko are the ones most willing to put an end to violence and injustice because both of them are nostalgic for their families. All that’s ever kept them going is the love of their families. Jinx just doesn't have the same faith in her ability to be their hero as Ekko does, but Ekko manages to convince her for a moment anyways.

Ekko recognizes (like Silco, Viktor and Isha) how integral Jinx is to the creation of a new world. She injects colour and life and hope into Zaun and is the only one who can unite all warring factions in Zaun in the first place. I know people have gripes with this Jinx being the hero of Zaun when she literally killed Silco, opening the market for other gangs, but her most famous act is the bombing of the Council, which pretty much all Zaunites were unaware was about to grant them independence. To the average citizen of Zaun and Piltover, Jinx was the symbol of a revolution (even if Jinx didn’t see herself that way and didn’t really want to be). Both her and Ekko are rebel leaders, but that is hardly used in Zaun's interests in the end. (ALSO THAT WHOLE CONVERSATION WITH VIKTOR AND JINX WHERE HE SAID SHE COULD BE USEFUL TO HIS WORK. This show would have won with a Viktor and Jinx team-up to unite Zaun--also in parallel to Jayce and Vi's team up. We could have had it all!)

Jinx and Silco:

This, is only second to Vi in the most FUMBLED things about Jinx. Silco was her guide once Vander died and Vi ran away. Silco not only took care of her, but gave her purpose (someone to love and be loved by and protect) and nurtured her talent (one that many others scorned). Silco accepted Jinx even though he weaponized her (which backfired for him). As much as Silco WAS WRONG to lie about Vi (manipulating Jinx) and even try to kill Vi (which was a dumbass move on his part), he wasn't wrong about Jinx's path to healing: self-acceptance and self-forgiveness. And even though Silco's own stupidity led Jinx to "embrace" Silco's version of Jinx to the point that she bombed the Council right when they'd granted Zaun independence (I wanted to fucking kill myself watching that), Jinx was still not ENTIRELY a jinx as Jinx (e.g. when she rescued Zaunites from Stillwater Prison). This fucked up dude did a whole John-the-Baptist thing where Vander tried to drown him with Jinx so she could embrace her Jinx-ness. But I don't think he was telling her to embrace that she was a curse like Vi meant it, but to embrace her new life (baptism is all about death and rebirth) and her new self and take responsibility for it.

Silco, like Ekko, was the one who saved Jinx from death and offered Jinx a home. While everyone else patronized Jinx for her own childhood trauma, Silco was gentle, understanding and provided space for that, even when her psychosis killed him. He showed zero resentment toward her. But when Silco dies and Vander returns, Jinx just . . . oopsie, doopsie! Forgets about Silco until one final hallucination she has of him in the jail cell. The only one she has where he talks. And what does he say? She needs to break the cycle. How? Not by eliminating Piltover or gaining Zaun's independence like he'd talked about and dreamed about. Not by accepting herself as Jinx and Powder, the inventor, the fighter, daughter of both Silco and Vander, but by offing herself? Leaving her family to think she's dead? Embracing the lie that she really was the poison in their lives and the reason none of them could be happy? The reason they died? NICE! SWELL! WHAT A SATISFYING, INSPIRING CONCLUSION! Even worse, they made her "death" staged. I'm sorry, but do we really believe that this same girl who killed herself multiple times in front of Ekko just 24 hours ago somehow found the will to live and escape into air ducts when she was falling with Vander? She decided to live right when she was about to die? And let's not forget that she was falling to the same song that was playing when she was trying to commit suicide. Why? And why would a heroic death (staged or not) be any form of character growth for Jinx in the first place? When her whole thing is distrusting the love offered to her? Or was she accepting herself by being the one to kill Vander because she knew Vi couldn't? Either way, it's cheap!

I Wonder Who Put All Those Holes In You (Fumbling Summary):

-Vander's letter to Silco could have been why she hallucinated Silco talking to her about forgiveness, but breaking the cycle here is about forgiving (unapologetic) Piltovians instead of herself, which needed to happen to complete her arc.

-Isha and Vander misery porn

-(above is an excerpt from Amanda Overton's TheGamer interview) to paraphrase: "SO OUR GRAND CONCLUSION TO VI AND JINX'S ARC WAS TO CONFIRM THAT YES, JINX WAS INDEED A JINX (AND NOT PILTOVER OR ANYTHING HAHA) AND THE SISTERS WOULD ONLY HAVE PEACE IF THEY NEVER RECONCILED - JUST LIKE THEIR FATHERS BECAUSE THAT WORKED OUT SO WELL THE FIRST TIME! :D THE REASON THEIR LIVES ARE IN SHAMBLES ARE PURELY BECAUSE OF THEIR OWN PERSONAL FAILINGS AND NOT AT ALL BECAUSE OF THE SITUATION PILTOVIANS HAVE PUT ZAUNITES IN! XD WE THINK THIS IS ALSO A FANTASTIC THING TO TELL MENTALLY ILL PEOPLE." :)

-Jinx being the reluctant Girl Saviour of Zaun after clinging onto her identity as a jinx so she didn't have to take responsibility for Zaun should have been the completion of her arc, IMO. As far as Jinx's arc is concerned, she was meant to reject the identity of jinx that Vi gave her and embrace the identity of Jinx that Zaun gave her. Loveable and capable of doing the right thing and saving others. Using hex-tech, something Jayce and Piltover had levelled against her people, against them. And she does this to some extent, but we don't even get a hint as to why Ekko's speech worked (and how he got her to fight alongside him and the Firelights in the first place). We know she does so for Vi, but she so quickly gives up once she and her sister are back on the same team. She allies herself with her sister just to die and then fuck off to another land? BRUH! Like act 3 is SO FRUSTRATING!

Conclusion

If the focus had been on the coming war between Zaun and Piltover, then we could have better explored the internal struggles happening with Vi's and Jinx's characters. Using Isha and Vander as misery porn for Jinx was a bad move. I stand by that. Isha didn't need to die that uselessly. Jinx did not need more "trauma" for any character development (positive or negative). It's not unrealistic that Jinx would be depressed after Isha's death (and that Isha was likely meant to symbolize the constant cycle of violence), but that this sub-plot really wasn't needed given what we'd already established in Season 1.

These are where my gripes with Jinx's and Viktor's arcs in S2 really lie: the story tries to strip the political from the personal! Viktor, on waking up with the arcane in him, goes back to The Lanes, and what does he see? The cycle that Silco mentions in Jinx's hallucination in the cell. This cycle is not merely coming from the interpersonal struggle Zaunites have, but rather, the forces behind those struggles: the starvation, the lack of resources, the poverty. All caused by Piltover. Where Season 2 fails while Season 1 succeeded, is it points the camera away from Piltover as the origin of all this mess, and instead, makes it a stupid cosmic clash between chaos and order (kinda fascist ngl). Zaun lost, and Arcane Season 1 had the tits to show why those in The Lanes were always on a losing streak: Piltover. The commitment to saving Piltover instead of destroying it ruined so many arcs, most notoriously Vi's and Jinx's. This should have ended in a war between the two cities, not one where both fought against robo-people and Ambessa.

But what, instead, do the writers brandish as this solution to the cycle?

Fucking forgiveness (of those who harm and oppress you) and acceptance of your (physical) imperfections (like that's what we were apparently talking about, which no, it wasn't). By refusing to acknowledge Piltover's hand in the desperation and violence and struggle the Zaunite characters find themselves, the show inadvertently ends up excusing Piltover.

TLDR: Bad message to send to oppressed people, mentally ill people, and people dying of terminal illnesses, lmao. The Zaunites ALL LOST with this one.

And I'm going to make a Part 2 to really get into it, but from the perspective of three Piltover characters (and one Zaunite) that really prove my point: Jayce, Mel, Caitlyn and Ekko.

P.S.: It's okay if you think the show is good because it succeeds in many other things, I just think it drops the ball in the places I've mentioned. But if your main criticism of my criticisms is going to be defending your ships, please find another post. Oppression is a serious reality that deserves serious depiction and it's insulting to have such necessary political discussions devolve into dumbass ship wars.

EDIT: I honestly did not expect this post to get more than 20 likes lmao, and i must admit that this was more of a thought dump than a super-deep analysis, but i'm glad a lot of it has resonated with so many of you!

EDIT AGAIN: Here's PART 2.

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 22

˗ˏˋ karaoke night ˎˊ˗

"Vanilla extract has always been his lifeline, and tonight is no different."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 11k

content: friendly drunkness, karaoke, lowkey interest, girl talk, unwanted appearances, trauma responses, isolation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, vulnerability, sneak peeks, soft, lowkey real conversations, subtle references to the past.

✧ author's note ✧

OKAY. Let me just start by screaming into the void real quick: SIX. HUNDRED. NOTES. And TWO HUNDRED VOTES. IN LESS THAN FORTY-EIGHT HOURS?? What the actual hell is wrong with you people??? I'm genuinely flabbergasted. Bamboozled. Reeling. I thought I had time. I thought I could chill. But NO. Y’all are CRACKED and now I’m upping the goal like an absolute psychopath because clearly you’re fiends and I am merely your supplier. I’ll give you your fix, don’t worry. Just know I’m running out of backlogged chapters and my therapist is gonna hear about it.

Anyway.

This chapter. Hoo boy. This chapter feels like the emotional hangover after a wild night—the kind where everything feels a little too raw, a little too exposed, and you’re left trying to piece together what the fuck happened between the yelling and the tequila. There's a reason why I framed it this way, too—because this is the shift. The oh shit, real people have real pasts and they bleed sometimes moment. The façade cracks here, and it does so in ways that are deliberately uncomfortable.

Jungkook is so many things in this chapter, but most importantly, he’s small. And I don’t mean that physically. I mean small like a kid trying to crawl into his own skin. That rooftop scene? I wanted you to feel the stillness after the storm, the weird quiet that happens when someone you thought was bulletproof shows up vulnerable and unguarded for once. And it’s messy. He doesn’t have answers. He doesn’t give you the sob story, not yet. He gives you glimpses. Vanilla extract, deflections, silence. All of it is by design.

(Also yes, the vanilla extract thing is a metaphor. Yes, I know it’s weird. No, I won’t elaborate. Just know it’s real and kind of tragic and also weirdly endearing. Like him.)

And Y/N… god. She’s tiptoeing the line so hard here. Because she wants to help and she wants to understand and she also very much wants to not feel. But she does. And she hates it. And she jokes because otherwise she’ll unravel. And that’s what makes this chapter so bittersweet to me—because they’re both posturing like they’re fine, but their actions betray them. Their quiet kindness, the subtle care. The intimacy isn’t in the sex anymore. It’s in the stillness. In the scent memory. In the way he says “you smell like vanilla” like it’s the only anchor he has left.

And let’s not even talk about Mia because that woman is the human embodiment of a champagne cork to the eye. I will simply say this: trauma is not always loud. Sometimes it’s a whisper that sticks to your ribs. Sometimes it’s someone’s name.

Anyway.

This chapter is long, chaotic, unfiltered, and possibly one of the most emotionally raw things I’ve written for this fic so far. So please take care of yourself while reading. You don’t have to romanticize brokenness. You don’t have to love these characters for their damage. But you can hold space for them. Just like they’re learning to do for each other.

Also Taehyung deserves a nap and a raise for his emotional labor.

As always, I’m deeply grateful you’re here, crying and laughing and spiraling with me. Keep being feral in the comments. Keep voting if it makes your little goblin brain happy. And maybe—just maybe—hug your own Jungkook if you’ve got one.

Or your therapist.

They deserve it.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Tequila makes you do stupid shit, like hugging people you normally avoid touching with a ten-foot pole.

You practically launch yourself from your seat, the room tilting at an alarming angle as you throw your arms around Yeji's neck. 

"Holy shit," she laughs, body stiffening with surprise before awkwardly patting your back. "Okay, this is literally the first hug you've ever given me and I don't know how to feel about it." 

You ignore her, already detaching yourself and stumbling toward Irya, who catches you with more grace, giggling as you nearly topple both of you over.

"Hi to you too," she says, squeezing back gently.

Jimin is next, accepting your clumsy attempt at physical affection with the patient tolerance of someone used to dealing with drunk friends. He pats your back, concern etched in his features.

"How are you doing?" he asks, holding you at arm's length to study your face.

You flash him a thumbs up, swaying slightly on your feet. "Absofuckinglutely amazing."

"Okay, yeah. No." He shakes his head, exchanging a knowing look with Yeji.

"Why are you guys even here?!" The question bursts out louder than you intended, making several heads turn.

Yeji shrugs, all casual nonchalance. "This is a famous ramen place. Irya's been wanting to come for a long time."

"Guilty!" Irya raises her hand with a sheepish smile.

"And Jimin was like a lost puppy, so we just kind of adopted him," Yeji adds, nodding toward him.

Irya shoves Yeji's shoulder. "No, actually, I was studying with Jimin, and Yeji just came in and was like 'yo, let's have spicy ramen!' And we kinda rolled with it."

You snort, turning around to find the entire table watching this interaction with varying degrees of amusement. 

Jungkook has his hand pressed against his mouth, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter.

You mouth 'die' at him, and he throws his palms up in mock surrender, the bastard.

"Well..." You gesture vaguely, suddenly realizing you need to perform introductions. "These are my friends." 

The words feel strange on your tongue—not because they're untrue, but because saying them out loud makes them real in a way you weren't prepared for. 

"Yeji, Irya, and Jimin," you continue, pointing at each one. "And this is... um..."

Your alcohol-soaked brain struggles to remember the names of all the people around this table. There's Yoongi, obviously, and Taehyung, and Hobi, and... the others. The gaming nerds. And Tessa. And that other girl who judged your ramen choice.

You wave your hand in a circle, encompassing the whole table. "Jungkook's birthday squad."

Awkwardness settles over you as you realize the predicament. Your friends are here, but it's not like you can just abandon Jungkook's party to join them. That would be rude. And weird. And probably not what a good roommate would do. 

Not that you care about being a good roommate. But still. Principle of the thing or whatever. 

Before the silence can stretch too long, Yeji speaks up. "We were heading to the karaoke place that's like five minutes from here, if y'all want to come?"

All eyes shift to Jungkook, the birthday boy, the decision-maker. 

But instead of looking at his friends, he looks at you first.

You look back at him, a silent question passing between you.

Then he smiles—not his usual smirk, but something softer, more genuine—and turns to Yeji. 

“Sure, absolutely. Count us in."

“Hell yes!” Hobi exclaims, clapping his hands together. “I’ve been waiting for an excuse to show off my pipes!”

“God help us all,” Taehyung mutters, but he’s already standing, clearly on board with the plan.

“What about the bill?” Diana asks, glancing around at the mess of empty glasses and half-finished food.

“Already covered,” Yoongi says, holding up his phone to show a payment confirmation. “Birthday gift.”

“You paid for all of this?” You blink at him, genuinely surprised. “That’s… actually really nice, Yoongi.”

He shrugs, looking vaguely uncomfortable with the acknowledgment. “Whatever. It’s not a big deal.”

“It kind of is,” you insist, the alcohol making you more earnest than usual. “You’re a good friend.”

He gives you a look that clearly says ‘please stop talking now,’ so you do, but not before patting his shoulder in what you hope is a comradely fashion.

The group begins gathering their things, a chaotic shuffle of jackets and phones and forgotten scarves. You stand in the middle of it all, suddenly aware of how drunk you actually are as the room tilts alarmingly when you try to take a step.

“Whoa there,” a voice says near your ear, and then there’s a hand at your elbow, steadying you. 

Jungkook. 

“You good?”

“Fine,” you say automatically, then reconsider. “Okay, maybe not fine. But I’m upright, so that’s something.”

“A low bar, but I respect it.” His tone is light, teasing, but there’s something else there too—concern, maybe. It’s hard to tell through the tequila fog.

“I can walk,” you insist, taking a deliberate step forward to prove your point. 

Your legs cooperate, mostly, though the floor seems to be at a slight angle that wasn’t there before.

“Never said you couldn’t.” He’s still close, though, ready to catch you if you stumble. “Just making sure you don’t face-plant in front of everyone. Would hate for you to embarrass yourself.”

“Too late for that,” you mutter, remembering your enthusiastic greeting to your friends.

A laugh escapes him, quiet enough that only you can hear it. “Nah, you’re fine. You’re just… friendlier when you’re drunk. It’s kind of cute.”

“I am not cute,” you say with as much dignity as you can muster while swaying slightly. “I am intimidating and cool.”

“Absolutely,” he agrees solemnly. “The most intimidating and cool person in the room. Everyone’s terrified.”

You glare at him, but it’s hard to maintain when he’s looking at you like that—amused but not mocking, a softness around his eyes that makes your stomach do a weird flip that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

“Shut up,” you say, lacking a more clever comeback. “It’s your fault anyway. Your stupid friends kept giving me shots.”

“My stupid friends, huh?” He raises an eyebrow. “And what does that make me?”

“The king of the stupid friends,” you declare, poking him in the chest. “The stupidest of them all.”

He catches your finger before you can poke him again, his hand warm around yours. 

“Your Majesty, then.”

“Oh my god, you’re so—” You break off, distracted by the way he’s still holding your hand, casual as anything. 

You pull away, flustered for no good reason. 

“Let’s go. Karaoke awaits.”

“After you, Phoenix.” He gestures toward the door where your friends are gathering with the others.

You make your way over, focusing intently on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping. It’s harder than it should be, but you manage, only weaving slightly.

Yeji appears at your side, linking her arm through yours. 

“How much have you had to drink?” she asks, voice low.

“A moderate amount,” you hedge. “An appropriate amount. A birthday celebration amount.”

“So, too much.”

“Maybe.”

She sighs, tightening her grip on your arm. “Babes, I’ve never seen you drunk. You sure you’re okay?

“Yuuusss,” you decide, nodding solemnly. “I stand by my choices.”

“Of course you do.” She glances over at Jungkook, who’s now engaged in an animated conversation with Taehyung and Hobi. “So, what’s going on there?”

“Where?” you ask, playing dumb even though you know exactly what she means.

“With your roommate. The one whose birthday party we just crashed.”

“Nothing’s going on,” you insist, too quickly. “We’re just… I don’t know. Trying to be friends. Or something. I guess.”

Friends. You and Jungkook. 

Friends.

It’s starting to sound less terrifying.

“I see.” She grins, positioning her head on your shoulder. “Just don’t replace me, huh? I’m your new college bestie. I claim that title.”

Before you can respond, Irya bounces over, linking her arm through Yeji’s free one. 

“Are we ready? The karaoke place gets busy on Saturdays.”

“We’re ready,” you confirm, smiling stupidly at the blonde. “Lead the way.”

As your strange, merged group spills out onto the sidewalk, you can’t help but wonder how the hell you ended up here—drunk, surrounded by people who barely know each other, heading to a karaoke bar on a Saturday night.

It’s bizarre. Surreal. Absolutely not how you expected your evening to go when you agreed to take Jungkook to the MoMA this morning.

But as you watch him laugh at something Irya says, his face open and relaxed in a way you rarely see at home, you can’t quite bring yourself to regret it. 

Even if your head is spinning and your stomach is dangerously close to rejecting every questionable decision you’ve made tonight.

You catch his eye across the group, and he grins at you—that stupid, lopsided grin that always makes you want to either slap him or—

Well. Other things.

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too, unable to help yourself. And when he falls into step beside you as the group starts moving, close enough that your shoulders occasionally brush, you don’t move away.

It’s his birthday, after all. You can give him that much.

Somehow, the sidewalk is significantly more difficult to navigate than it was four hours ago.

"Careful," Jimin murmurs as you stumble over absolutely nothing for the third time in two blocks. He steadies you with a gentle grip, adjusting to link his arm more securely with yours.

"The ground is uneven," you insist, though it's clearly not. "Poorly maintained city infrastructure. Someone should write a strongly worded letter."

"Definitely the sidewalk's fault," he agrees, humor warming his soft voice.

You've ended up at the back of your odd parade, watching as your two separate friend groups merge into a loud, laughing mass of bodies moving through the Manhattan night. Yeji has somehow ended up walking beside Taehyung, both of them gesturing wildly as they argue about something. Irya is chatting with Tessa—a combination you wouldn't have predicted—while Hobi tells an animated story to Ryan and Seth that has them howling with laughter.

And then there's Jungkook, right in the middle of it all, moving between conversations simply like someone accustomed to being the center of attention. Even from behind, you can tell he's having a good time—shoulders relaxed, head thrown back in laughter at something Hobi says.

You can’t help but think it’s… a bit strange, seeing him like this. In the apartment, he's always a bit wound up—ready with a sarcastic comment or provocation. But here, surrounded by friends, celebrating, he seems... looser. 

Happier.

It's a good look on him. 

Not that you care.

"Here we are!" Hobi announces as your group reaches a neon-lit storefront, the sign advertising ‘SING YOUR HEART OUT’ in aggressively colorful lettering. "Best karaoke in the East Village."

The place is crowded—not surprising for a Saturday night—but Hobi apparently knows someone who works here because you're whisked past the line of waiting people and into the lobby with minimal fuss.

Inside, it reeks of cheap beer and cheaper air freshener, and the walls are plastered with faded posters of pop stars past and present; along with some occasional muffled screech of someone butchering a high note from one of the private rooms.

Everyone begins shedding layers at the coat check, a flurry of jackets and scarves being handed over to a bored-looking attendant who barely glances up from her phone. 

You hang back with Jimin, suddenly aware of how sweaty your shirt is under your own jacket. 

Great. 

Nothing like marinating in your own alcohol-infused sweat to round out the evening.

"I kind of can't believe we're doing this," you mutter to Jimin, still leaning on him more heavily than you'd like to admit. "Karaoke? With these people? Is this real life?"

"It's definitely happening," he confirms, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Though I'm not sure how much you'll remember tomorrow."

"I'm not that drunk," you protest automatically. "I'm just... celebrating."

"Uh-huh." He doesn't sound convinced.

Across the lobby, Yeji and Jungkook are locked in what appears to be an intense negotiation over room selection, both of them pointing at different options on the laminated menu the hostess is holding. Taehyung stands nearby, pinching the bridge of his nose like he's developing a migraine.

"I'm telling you, the premium room has better song selection," Yeji insists, her voice carrying across the space.

"But the deluxe has the light-up dance floor," Jungkook counters, gesturing emphatically. "It's my birthday, I want the dance floor!"

"The dance floor is tacky!"

"It's not tacky, it's fun!"

"It's the definition of tacky."

"Your face is the definition of tacky."

"Wow, super mature comeback there, birthday boy."

Your eyes drift from their bickering to the quieter presence leaning against the far wall. Yoongi stands slightly apart from the group, scrolling through his phone with the detached air of someone who's physically present but mentally elsewhere. 

You notice Jimin's gaze has followed yours. He's studying Yoongi with an intensity that feels almost... private. Like you're witnessing something you shouldn't.

"That's your other roommate, right?" he asks, voice soft.

"Yeah," you nod, head still resting on his shoulder. "Yoongi."

Jimin just smiles, a small, soft thing that doesn't quite reach his eyes. There's something there—a question, maybe, or a thought he's not voicing—but before you can figure it out, Yeji's sharp voice cuts through the moment.

"Y/N! Get over here and settle this!"

You straighten, blinking rapidly as the room spins slightly with the sudden movement. 

“What?"

"Premium or deluxe?" she demands, beckoning you impatiently. "Tell this idiot that premium is clearly superior."

Jungkook turns to you, actually pouting like a kid who's been told he can't have a second ice cream cone. 

"The deluxe has a light-up floor," he says, as if this is the most compelling argument in the world. "And disco balls."

You look between them, trying to focus through the tequila fog. It shouldn't be this hard to form an opinion about karaoke rooms, and yet. 

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up at the absurdity of the situation—Yeji and Jungkook, two of the most stubborn people you know, locked in a standoff over something so utterly trivial.

"Come on, Yeji," you say, rolling your eyes even as you fight back another laugh. "He's the birthday boy. Let him make a choice that matters in his life for once."

Jungkook's indignant "yooo!" is drowned out by Yeji's dramatic sigh.

"Fine," she concedes, throwing up her hands. "But when we get stuck with a shitty song selection, don't come crying to me."

"I'll make it up to you," Jungkook promises, already bouncing with excitement. "You can choose the first song."

"Damn right I will." She huffs, no anger behind it.

Jungkook turns to you, triumph written all over his stupid handsome face. "See? I can be reasona—" He cuts himself off with a yelp as you swat at him playfully.

"Don't push it," you warn, but you're smiling despite yourself.

The hostess, who's been watching this entire exchange with the weary resignation of someone who's seen far too many drunk people argue over karaoke rooms, clears her throat pointedly. 

“So... deluxe room? For how many hours?"

"Two," Hobi calls from where he's now organizing a drink order with the rest of the group. "At least!"

"Follow me," she says, gathering menus and leading the way down a dimly lit hallway plastered with even more music posters.

Your odd group trails after her like ducklings, Jungkook practically skipping in excitement. You hang back slightly, still unsteady on your feet, and find yourself walking beside Yoongi, who's finally pocketed his phone.

"You sure about this?" he asks quietly, eyeing you with what might be concern. "You look like you're about ten minutes from passing out."

"I'm fine," you insist, though the hallway is doing that weird tunnel-vision thing that definitely isn't normal. "Just pacing myself."

He snorts, clearly not buying it. "Sure."

"I am," you argue, even as you reach out to steady yourself against the wall. "Totally in control."

"Right." His tone is dry as dust. "That's why you're currently leaning on a poster of Justin Bieber."

You glance over and, sure enough, your hand is planted firmly on young Bieber's face. 

You snatch it away with a grimace. 

"Ew."

"Exactly." He doesn't say anything else, but he stays close as you make your way down the hall, oddly comforting in its steadiness.

Just like the day at the gynecologist.

The deluxe room, when you finally reach it, lives up to Jungkook's hype—it's large enough to fit your entire group comfortably, with plush seating along the walls, a central space that is indeed illuminated by color-changing floor panels, and not one but two disco balls hanging from the ceiling. The most impressive feature, though, is the giant screen taking up one entire wall, currently displaying the karaoke company's logo bouncing around like an old DVD screensaver.

"This is amazing," Jungkook declares, immediately bouncing onto the dance floor, which lights up green and blue under his feet. "Worth every penny."

"We haven't paid yet," Taehyung reminds him, but he's smiling as he says it.

"Details," Jungkook waves dismissively, spinning in a circle that makes the floor shift colors again. "Come on, everyone pick a song! I want to hear Hobi destroy 'Uptown Funk' again!"

"Bold of you to assume I'd repeat myself," Hobi says, already flipping through the song catalog. "I'm thinking Beyoncé tonight."

"God help us all," Taehyung mutters, but he's already grabbing a microphone.

You sink onto one of the couches, grateful for the chance to sit before your legs give out. 

The room is spinning slightly, but in a pleasant way now—like you're on a very slow merry-go-round. From this vantage point, you can watch as everyone settles in, claiming seats and drinks and song choices with the chaotic energy of people determined to have a good time.

Jungkook is still in the center of it all, now trying to convince Yeji to duet with him on some song you can't quite make out over the general noise. She's protesting, but you can tell she'll give in eventually—there's a gleam in her eye that says she's enjoying this more than she's letting on.

The first note of "Don't Stop Believin'" hasn't even finished before Hobi's on his feet, microphone clutched in his hand like it's the Olympic torch and he's the last runner.

What follows can only be described as a religious experience.

The man doesn't just sing—he performs. 

Every note, every gesture, every hip thrust (and there are many) executed with the determination of someone who's spent significant time studying the art of karaoke domination.

By the time he hits the chorus, the entire room is on their feet, singing along whether they want to or not. 

You find yourself belting out words you didn't even know you remembered, arm slung around Yeji's shoulders as you sway dramatically.

And that's just the beginning.

Taehyung and Jungkook follow with some K-pop song you've never heard but somehow everyone else seems to know the choreography to. Irya delivers a surprisingly powerful Adele ballad that has Yeji staring at her with undisguised adoration. Seth and Ryan butcher ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ with the confidence of men who have never been told they can't sing.

Somewhere between your third vodka cranberry and Yeji's unexpectedly heartfelt rendition of ‘Dancing Queen,’ you lose all remaining inhibitions.

Which is how you end up center stage, microphone in hand, challenging Taehyung to an Eminem rap battle that neither of you are remotely qualified for.

"I've got this," you hiss, yanking the mic toward you as the opening beats of ‘Lose Yourself’ start playing. "I've been preparing my whole life. Get ready to get your ass beaten, jerkinci.”

"You've been preparing to embarrass yourself," Taehyung retorts, tugging the microphone back. "I actually know all the words."

"Bullshit. Nobody knows all the words."

The first verse hits and you're both fumbling, words slurring together as you try to keep pace with the rapid-fire lyrics. 

You've got maybe every third word right, but what you lack in accuracy you make up for in enthusiasm, half-shouting into the microphone while Taehyung tries to pry it from your grasp.

"His palms are sweaty—"

"—mom's spaghetti—"

"—nervous, but on the surface he looks—"

"—SPAGHETTI!"

You dissolve into laughter at the same time Taehyung does, both of you bent double as the backing track continues without you. 

"Draw," Jungkook declares from somewhere to your left. "You both lose. Spectacularly."

"I clearly won," you argue, straightening up with as much dignity as you can muster, which isn't much. "I hit at least four words correctly."

"Wow, four whole words," Taehyung deadpans. "Eminem is shaking."

"He should be," you agree solemnly. "I'm coming for his whole career."

The music shifts to something slower, and you realize you're suddenly very, very thirsty. And maybe a little dizzy. 

You hand the microphone to Jimin, who's been quietly watching the disaster unfold with a bemused smile.

"Your turn," you tell him, patting his arm. "Show them how it's done."

He starts to protest, but Irya's already pulling him toward the screen, insisting they do a duet. 

You make your way back to the couches, flopping down with more force than intended. The room tilts briefly before righting itself.

"Need a break?" Jungkook asks, appearing beside you with a glass of water. 

When did he get water? More importantly, when did he get so considerate?

"Maybe," you admit, accepting the glass. "Thanks."

He studies your face for a moment, and you resist the urge to check if you've got something on it. 

"I'm gonna hit the bathroom. Don't pass out while I'm gone."

"No promises."

He laughs, the sound warm even over the pulsing music, and then he's gone, weaving through your friends toward the exit.

You take a long sip of water, letting the cool liquid soothe your throat, raw from shouting lyrics and laughing too hard. 

Your eyes dance around, noticing Hobi teaching Ryan some dance move on the light-up floor, Yeji and Irya huddled together on one of the couches, heads bent close as they flip through the song catalog, Taehyung now trying to convince Yoongi to join him for something that has Yoongi shaking his head emphatically.

It's... nice. In a chaotic, messy, not-at-all-what-you-planned kind of way.

The couch dips as someone sits beside you. You turn, expecting Yeji or Jimin, and find yourself face to face with Tessa instead.

"Hi!" she says brightly, tucking a strand of perfect auburn hair behind her ear. "Mind if I join you for a minute?"

"Free country," you shrug, shifting slightly to make room even though there's plenty of space.

She smiles, and you can't help noticing how ridiculously pretty she is even in the garish lighting of the karaoke room. No smudged mascara, no frizzy hair, no signs of being several drinks in like the rest of you heathens. 

It's annoying. 

Pretty people should have the decency to look at least a little disheveled when everyone else does.

“That was quite a performance,” she says, smiling warmly. “I didn’t know you were into rap.”

“I’m not, really,” you admit, taking another sip of water. “I just couldn’t let Taehyung think he’s better than me at something.”

She laughs, the sound light and genuinely amused. “You guys have known each other long?”

“Not really. Just through Jungkook, honestly.”

“Oh!” Her face brightens at the mention of his name. “That’s actually… I was hoping to talk to you about him, if you don’t mind?”

The way her voice lifts hopefully at the end, combined with the slight flush on her cheeks that has nothing to do with alcohol, tells you exactly where this conversation is headed. 

Great. 

Girl talk about your hookup buddy. Exactly what you signed up for tonight.

But there’s something so genuinely nice about her expression that you can’t bring yourself to brush her off. 

It’s not her fault Jungkook’s… well, Jungkook.

“What about him?” you ask, though you already know.

“I just… I really like him? And I was wondering if you had any insights, you know, being his roommate and all.”

You should have seen this coming. 

Of course the pretty film student would be into Jungkook. Of course she’d want insider information.

Wait.

How the actual fuck does Jungkook pull these types of women? 

Like, seriously. This girl looks like she should be dating a 6’4” investment banker with good hair, not your annoying roommate who sometimes forgets to wash his coffee mug for so long it develops its own ecosystem.

The universe is truly unfair.

“I’ve only lived with him for about a month,” you say, because it’s true and also gives you time to process.

“I know, I know,” she says quickly. “But you must have some impression of him by now, right? Like, what’s he really like? Outside of class and everything?”

You take another long drink of water, considering. 

The truth is, you do know things about Jungkook that probably no one in this room knows—like how he bakes sourdough when he can’t sleep, or how he gets oddly protective of Griffin’s food schedule, or the precise sound he makes when he comes.

Which is actually a thought that gives you pause. 

If Tessa and Jungkook start dating, that means your arrangement would end. 

No more convenient stress relief. 

No more really good sex after bad days.

That would kind of suck, honestly. Because whatever else he is, Jungkook is fantastic in bed. The idea of giving that up isn’t particularly appealing.

But on the other hand… aren’t you kind of friends now? Or at least trying to be? 

And friends help each other out. 

Even if that means letting go of a mutually beneficial sex arrangement.

Besides, look at her. She’s gorgeous, clearly intelligent, and seems genuinely sweet. Jungkook would be a complete idiot to pass that up for occasional hookups with his sarcastic roommate.

She’s still looking at you expectantly, those wide hazel eyes so earnest it’s almost painful.

“He’s…” you start, then sigh. “Look, I don’t really know him that well outside of basic roommate stuff.”

“Oh.” Her face falls slightly.

Dammit. 

Why does she have to look like a disappointed puppy?

“But,” you continue, “I can tell you he’s very passionate about film. Like, genuinely passionate, not just doing it because it seems cool.”

Her expression brightens immediately. “I know, right? The way he talks about cinematography is so… I don’t know, refreshing? Like he actually cares about the art of it.”

“And he’s good with his hands,” you add before you can stop yourself, then immediately want to die. “I mean, like, fixing things! He fixed our bathroom sink when it was leaking.”

Nice save, idiot.

“That’s so sweet,” she says, apparently not picking up on your momentary panic. “He seems really thoughtful, you know? Like, in class he’s always offering to help people with their equipment.”

You nod, because that actually tracks with what you’ve seen of him. For all his annoying qualities, Jungkook does seem to genuinely care about helping people sometimes. It’s one of his more redeeming features.

“You really like him, huh?” you ask, though it’s obvious.

She blushes, looking down at her hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little,” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But it’s cute.”

And it is cute, actually. 

She seems genuinely into him, not just physically attracted or playing some kind of game. 

It’s surprising that a girl like her would be interested in your dumbass roommate, but weirder things have happened.

“Do you think I have a chance?” she asks, her voice dropping to a near whisper, as if she’s sharing a secret. “I mean, I’ve been trying to drop hints, but I can’t tell if he’s picking up on them or just being nice.”

You glance toward the door where Jungkook disappeared, considering. Because in all honesty, you have no idea what his type is beyond ‘willing and available.’ Your arrangement has never included discussions about who else either of you might be seeing or interested in. For all you know, he could be totally into Tessa.

And really, why wouldn’t he be? She’s gorgeous, smart from what you can tell, and seems genuinely kind. 

She’s basically way too good for him, but if she can’t see that, it’s not your job to point it out.

“I think…” you start slowly, turning back to her. “I think you should go for it.”

“Really?” Her whole face lights up, and you find yourself smiling back reflexively.

“Yeah, really.” 

You straighten up, suddenly feeling like you’re on more solid ground. This is just basic girl code, after all. Helping a fellow woman navigate the treacherous waters of modern dating, even if the guy in question is your occasional fuck buddy.

Plus, you can be the bigger person here. 

Yes, the sex with Jungkook is great, but there will be other guys. Other hot idiots to hook up with. It’s not like he’s the only option in New York City.

“Look, Jungkook’s… an okay guy, I guess? But if you like him, you should definitely let him know. Life’s too short for subtle hints.”

“That’s what Irya said too!” She laughs, reaching out to squeeze your arm gratefully. “Oh my god, thank you. I was so nervous to ask you, because I didn’t know if you two were… you know.”

“Me and Jungkook?” You almost choke on your water. “God, no. Absolutely not. We’re just roommates. Barely even friends, honestly.”

It’s not entirely a lie. Yes, you’ve been sleeping together, but it’s just physical. There are no feelings involved. It’s just convenient, uncomplicated sex—exactly how you like it.

“Oh, good,” she says, relief clear in her voice. “I wasn’t sure, and I’d never want to step on any toes.”

“No toes here,” you assure her, wiggling your feet for emphasis. “Completely toe-free zone.”

She giggles, and you find yourself smiling back. She really is nice, which makes it hard to keep disliking her just for being pretty and put-together.

“So,” you continue, feeling oddly invested now. “What’s your plan? How are you going to let him know you’re interested?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, biting her lip. “I was thinking maybe I could ask him to coffee? To discuss a project or something? But that might be too subtle.”

“Definitely too subtle. Guys are dense as bricks. Trust me.”

“What would you suggest then?”

You tap your chin, thinking. “You should just ask him out directly. No pretense, no ‘let’s discuss this project.’ Just ‘hey, I like you, let’s go on a date.’”

“Oh god,” she groans, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t know if I’m brave enough for that.”

“Sure you are,” you encourage, surprising yourself with your sudden enthusiasm for this matchmaking endeavor. “Look at you! You’re gorgeous, smart, and frankly, way out of his league. If anything, he should be intimidated by you.”

She peeks through her fingers, looking both flattered and skeptical. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely. In fact…” You pull out your phone, opening your contacts. “Give me your number. I’ll help you figure out the perfect approach.”

“Seriously?” She beams, reciting her number as you type it in. “That would be amazing. I’m so glad we got to talk tonight.”

“Me too,” you say, and find that you actually mean it. “And hey, even if things with Jungkook don’t work out, we should hang out sometime. You seem cool.”

“I’d love that!” She looks genuinely delighted, which makes you feel a small pang of guilt for your initial judgment of her based solely on her perfect hair and flawless makeup.

As you finish entering her contact info, you glance around and realize Jungkook still hasn’t returned from the bathroom. 

It’s been what, ten minutes? Fifteen? Way too long, even accounting for lines or hand-washing (which, knowing him, is probably not a factor anyway).

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” you tell Tessa, pocketing your phone. “I just want to check that your future boyfriend hasn’t fallen in or something.”

She chuckles at the term but nods, still smiling. “Sure. I’ll save your seat.”

You navigate through the chaos of the room, dodging Hobi’s enthusiastic dance moves and stepping over Taehyung, who’s now sprawled dramatically across the floor reciting what sounds like Shakespeare to a bemused Yeji. The hallway outside is quieter, though the bass from neighboring rooms thrums through the walls.

Where the hell did Jungkook go? The bathrooms are just down the hall, and there’s no way he’d ditch his own birthday celebration. 

Maybe he’s answering a call? Or got waylaid by some random person?

Or maybe the idiot got lost on the way back. You wouldn’t put it past him.

With a sigh, you head toward the bathrooms, determined to drag his ass back to the party. 

After all, you’ve got a stunning redhead waiting to shoot her shot with him, and you’ll be damned if your sacrifice of great casual sex goes to waste because he can’t find his way back from taking a piss.

You turn the corner, ready to pound on the men's room door and yell at Jungkook for taking forever, when—oh.

He's not alone.

There's a girl. Of course there's a girl. Because when isn't there a girl around Jungkook?

This one's got shiny black hair down to her waist and is wearing what looks like an actual fucking Chanel dress to a karaoke bar. 

Who does that? 

The kind of person who also wears Louboutins to a place where the floor is permanently sticky with spilled beer, apparently.

But it's not her rich bitch outfit that makes you stop.

It's Jungkook.

He looks... wrong. 

He's staring at the floor like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen, shoulders hunched forward in a way that makes him seem smaller somehow. His usual swagger is completely gone. He keeps opening and closing his mouth like a fish gasping for air, not actually saying anything.

It's weird. 

Really fucking weird.

Before you can think better of it, you're walking toward them. 

Stupid protective instinct. Stupid tequila. Stupid feet moving without permission.

Jungkook notices you first, his eyes widening in what looks like panic. The girl turns around, giving you a slow once-over that makes you feel like you've been scanned and found wanting. 

She's beautiful. Like, unfairly beautiful. The kind of beautiful that probably makes other girls hate her on sight. Perfect skin, dark eyes, delicate features that look more doll-like than human. Her smile is almost too perfect, like it was professionally installed rather than something that grew naturally on her face.

"Oh my gosh, hi!" Her voice is high and sweet, like artificial honey. "I'm so sorry, am I keeping him too long? You must be looking for Kooky."

Kooky? Is she fucking serious right now?

"Can you believe we ran into each other? What are the chances?" She grabs your arm like you're old friends, squeezing with perfectly manicured nails that dig in slightly. "I was just telling him it must be fate. Some connections are just meant to be, right?"

She's acting like you're all at some cute reunion instead of standing in a gross hallway outside a karaoke bathroom. Her perfume is expensive and overwhelming—the kind that probably has a French name and costs more than your rent.

Jungkook clears his throat, still not looking at her. "It's just a coincidence, Mia."

Mia. 

The name hits like a slap. 

This is her? The ex that sent those texts that made him look like he'd seen a ghost? 

Bitch looks like she belongs on a billboard, not stalking her ex in a karaoke bar.

"Oh, you're so skeptical," she laughs, the sound like tiny bells. "Always was. That's what I loved about you though, always keeping me grounded." She turns to you with a conspiratorial smile. "He's the practical one. I'm the dreamer. We balanced each other so well."

She's talking about him like he's not standing right there. 

Like he's a character in a story she's telling.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name? I'm Mia."

"Y/N," you say flatly. "Jungkook's roommate."

"Roommate! Oh how wonderful," she claps her hands together like you've just announced you've won the lottery. "It's so nice to see Kooky making new friends. He was always so reserved with people he doesn't know well." 

She leans in close enough that you can smell her breath—minty with an undercurrent of expensive champagne. 

“Trust issues. We worked on it a lot during our time together."

She says it like they were in some kind of therapy program, not… dating. 

What the actual fuck?

"I've found him pretty straightforward," you say, stepping closer to Jungkook because something is clearly wrong here. 

He's still staring at the floor, still silent, still looking nothing like the annoying, confident asshole you live with.

"Oh, then he must really trust you," Mia says, eyes wide like you've shared some profound revelation. "That's so special. After everything he went through with his father, it's hard for him to let people in."

His father? Since when does Jungkook talk about his family? He's never mentioned a word about his father to you.

Jungkook's head snaps up at this, face gone pale. "Mia, don't—"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" She covers her mouth with one hand, looking embarrassed. "Was that not something...? I just assumed since you're roommates..." She turns to you and shrugs apologetically. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it. Please forget I said anything."

Right. 

Like you're going to forget she just dropped that little bomb. 

But now's not the time to dig into whatever daddy issues Jungkook's apparently hiding.

"It's fine," you say, because what else can you say?

"Anyway," she continues, her voice shifting back to that syrupy sweetness, "I was just telling Kooky we should get together sometime. Catch up properly." 

She squeezes Jungkook's arm. 

“I've missed our little movie nights. Nobody appreciates Park Chan-wook like you do."

Jungkook's still doing his best statue impression, eyes fixed somewhere near the exit sign like he's calculating how fast he can make a break for it.

"We were just getting ready to leave, actually," she says, gesturing down the hall. "I'm here with some friends from Parsons—we have a private room upstairs. You two should join us! We have so much champagne, it's ridiculous. My father just closed another deal in Singapore, so we're celebrating."

Of course her dad makes international business deals. Of course she has a private room upstairs. Of course she's casually drinking champagne while the rest of you slurp tequila from plastic cups.

"I don't think—" Jungkook starts, voice sounding rusty like he's forgotten how to use it.

"It would be so fun!" Mia insists, looking at you now with wide, earnest eyes. "Honestly, any friend of Kooky's is a friend of mine. I've been dying to get to know the people in his life now."

She's laying it on thick, like she's auditioning for the role of Supportive Ex-Girlfriend in some bad rom-com. It's almost impressive how sincere she sounds while being so obviously full of shit.

"We're actually here with a group," you say, firmer this time. "It's Jungkook's birthday."

"Your birthday!" she gasps, turning to Jungkook with exaggerated surprise. "Oh, I can't believe I forgot! I used to be so good with dates."

She steps closer to him, practically pressing against his chest. 

"I should have gotten you something. Although I think my presence is gift enough, don't you? Just like old times." She laughs, light and tinkling. "Remember that birthday I planned for you last year? The surprise party at The Standard? Everyone said it was the best night of their lives."

You can practically see her subtext in neon letters above her head: ‘Whatever you losers planned tonight is nothing compared to what I did for him.’

"I don't think he wants to reminisce," you say, surprised by the edge in your own voice. "We should get back."

The bitch’s smile falters for just a second before snapping back into place. 

“Oh, I totally get it. You guys have plans. I would never want to intrude on your... celebration."

The way she says ‘celebration’ makes it sound like she's referring to a kindergarten birthday party with paper hats and apple juice.

"We should get your number though, Kooky," she continues, already pulling out her phone. "I changed mine recently. We really should catch up soon. I have so much to tell you."

Jungkook looks like he'd rather eat glass than take her number. His hands are actually shaking slightly—what the hell happened between these two?

"I don't think that's necessary," you say, and without really thinking about it, you link your arm through his. 

His skin is cold through his shirt sleeve.

This is the first time his skin’s ever been cold.

He’s usually always a walking furnace—a warm backdrop to your perpetually freezing body. 

“Why not? Can’t hurt.” She tilts her head, eyes crinkling in a tight smile.

“Might hurt.”

Mia's eyes flash to where you're touching him, her smile tightening just a fraction. 

"Oh, I see," she says, her voice still sweet but with something sharper underneath. "You two are..."

"Friends," you finish firmly. "Good friends."

"How sweet," she says. 

She reaches out and straightens Jungkook's collar in a way that feels weirdly intimate. 

“You always did need someone to look after you, didn't you, baby?"

She sighs, the sound somehow both theatrical and condescending. You feel Jungkook tense next to you. 

What the hell is she talking about?

"Save my number," she says, pressing a small business card—who even carries those anymore?—into his hand. "For when you realize what you're missing. You know where to find me when you want a real connection again."

She leans in and kisses his cheek, holding it a beat too long. 

“Happy birthday, Kooky. Try not to have too much fun without me."

She gives you a final look, equal parts pity and dismissal, before sauntering away down the hall, her heels clicking a perfect rhythm against the floor.

Jesus Christ. Is this real life? Did you just witness an actual soap opera villain in action? 

The whole thing feels surreal, like you accidentally walked onto a TV set during filming.

"You okay?" you ask Jungkook when she's gone, because what else can you say?

He's still staring after her, jaw tight. 

"Fine."

"Bullshit."

He glances at you, momentarily surprised by your bluntness. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

"I... I think I need some air."

"Yeah, of course." 

Not that you really have any other response ready. What are you supposed to say? ‘Sorry your ex is a walking red flag’? ‘Want to talk about whatever the fuck just happened?’ ‘By the way, what was that father line?’

"I'll be back in five," he says, already moving toward the exit sign at the end of the hall. "I just need a minute."

"Okay."

He pauses, glancing back. 

“Thanks."

Then he's gone, pushing through the exit door, leaving you standing in the hallway with the lingering scent of expensive perfume and a head full of questions.

What the hell was all that about? And why does he look like he's seen a ghost? And what did she mean about his father? 

You shake your head, trying to clear it. 

Not your business. Not your problem. You have your own shit to deal with without adding Jungkook's ex drama to the list.

But as you turn to head back to the karaoke room, you can't help glancing toward the exit where he disappeared. 

He really did look... small. Scared, almost. 

Nothing like the cocky asshole who drives you crazy on a daily basis.

It's disconcerting, seeing him like that. Like peeking behind a curtain you didn't know existed.

You're going to need another drink for this.

It's pathetic, really. 

Jungkook knows it. He acknowledges it fully, standing here on the rooftop of some overpriced karaoke joint in the heart of Manhattan, staring down at the tiny flask in his hand. 

Not whiskey, not vodka—no, nothing even remotely respectable. Just pure vanilla extract.

Fucking vanilla extract.

He twists off the cap, lifts it to his lips, and takes a small sip. It burns just enough going down to remind him he's alive, but it tastes good. 

Always good. 

Sweet enough to mask the bitterness that's permanently lodged at the back of his throat these days. 

It's not the watered-down shit they sell at grocery stores either—he learned that lesson quickly after one particularly desperate night ended with him gagging over his sink. 

No, this is the real deal, the expensive kind he has to order online from some bougie shop in France that probably laughs every time they ship another bottle to New York City.

His therapist side-eyed him when he first confessed this little habit—because who wouldn't? Who the fuck drinks baking ingredients to cope? 

But after a few awkward seconds of silence and scribbling notes on her pad (he hates when she does that), she'd shrugged and said it was better than alcohol or pills or whatever else he could be doing instead. 

So Jungkook took what he could get.

If vanilla extract keeps him from self-destructing completely, then that's what he'll stick to.

He leans against the rooftop railing, cold metal pressing into his forearms through his thin shirt. Below him, lights blur together into a neon haze—yellow taxis weaving through traffic like fireflies darting between trees. The city beneath him looks both indifferent and alive, while Jungkook feels like he's barely holding it together.

Happy fucking birthday to him.

Birthdays are supposed to mean something. Another year older, wiser, closer to figuring shit out—but Jungkook just feels stuck. 

Twenty-something years old and still sneaking away from his own birthday party because seeing Mia had knocked the air out of his lungs in a way that made him feel like a fucking teenager again.

Weak. 

Pathetic. 

Unable to even form a coherent sentence when she'd looked at him with those eyes—the ones that used to make him feel special until he realized they were just another weapon in her arsenal.

He takes another sip of vanilla extract, savoring the burn this time as it slides down his throat. It's stupidly comforting in a way he can't quite explain—not even to himself. 

Maybe it's nostalgia or some childhood memory he's buried deep down beneath layers of emotional baggage and trauma from Mia and everything else he's fucked up along the way. 

Or maybe it's just because it's something sweet and simple in a life that's become anything but.

He chuckles bitterly under his breath, shaking his head at himself.

"You're fucking ridiculous," he mutters into the night air.

But ridiculous or not—pathetic or not—it helps. 

And right now, that's all that matters.

Twenty minutes. That's how long he's been up here, hiding like a child. Twenty minutes of staring at the skyline and trying to get his shit together. Twenty minutes of letting Mia's voice echo in his head like a bad song he can't turn off.

He closes his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply as cool September air fills his lungs. 

He can hear muffled laughter drifting up from downstairs—the karaoke room packed with film school friends who've probably noticed his absence by now—and for once tonight, Jungkook doesn't mind being forgotten for a little while longer.

He'll go back eventually; plaster on another easy smile like nothing happened because that's what he does best these days: pretend everything is fine until everyone else believes it.

And then—the icing on the cake. 

He mentally claps for himself at that one. Solid joke. A little on the nose, sure, but he'll take it. 

You're there.

He doesn't even need to look to know it's you. That faint trace of vanilla that isn't his flask. Not the sharp, concentrated kind that burns his throat and keeps him grounded. 

No, you smell like vanilla, but softer. Warmer. Like someone took the edge off and folded it into something human. 

There's something else underneath it too—milky, maybe? Creamy? He doesn't know how to describe it without sounding like a complete idiot, so he doesn't try.

It's funny, though. 

Hilarious, actually. 

Because in the four weeks he's known you, he knows you're anything but soft. 

You're mouthy as hell. 

Reckless in a way that makes him think you've got some kind of death wish or maybe just a really bad sense of self-preservation. 

You talk back every time he opens his mouth, like it's your personal mission to make sure he never gets the last word. 

He should find you annoying. 

Irritating enough to make him want to jump off this rooftop just to get away from you. 

And yeah, sometimes he does—like when you leave your tea bags in the sink instead of throwing them out like a normal person, or when you steal his hoodies and pretend they just ‘ended up’ in your laundry by accident (as if he doesn't know you're lying). 

But mostly? 

Mostly, you're just...there. 

A sudden disruption in his life when he was finally starting to feel okay again. Starting to enjoy the quiet. Heal, or whatever the fuck people call it when they're trying to piece themselves back together after everything's gone to shit.

And then you came along.

All talk back and adrenaline and thrill and sex.

Really good sex.

He shouldn't be thinking about that right now—not here, not with you standing behind him like some kind of ghost haunting his already-fucked-up night—but it's hard not to when everything about you feels like a challenge he can't help but rise to. 

The way you smell, the way you look at him like you're daring him to say something stupid just so you can tear him apart for it...it's infuriating. 

Addictive too.

He takes another sip from his flask because what else is he supposed to do? 

He can feel your eyes on him—sharp and curious, probably trying to figure out why he's up here alone with nothing but a tiny bottle of vanilla extract for company—and suddenly the burn in his throat isn't enough to distract him anymore.

"Didn't know karaoke had a rooftop package," you say eventually.

Jungkook snorts before he can stop himself, shaking his head as he screws the cap back onto his flask. 

"Yeah, well," he says, turning around just enough to glance at you over his shoulder. "Figured I'd splurge for my birthday."

Your eyebrows lift at that—just a little—but you don't say anything right away. 

"You know they've noticed you're not around, right?" you say after a moment, your tone careful. "People are asking."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

Of course they are. Because that's what happens when you disappear for twenty minutes in the middle of your own birthday party.

"You good?" you add, and there's something in your voice that makes him look at you directly. "Because we need you back there."

God, you're annoying. Always so direct, always cutting through his bullshit like it's tissue paper.

He should hate this—hate you—but somehow, Jungkook can't really bring himself to fully mean it.

"How'd you find me?" he asks instead of answering your question.

You shrug. "Just a hunch. Figured if I wanted to escape, I'd go up, not down."

He stares at the city below, the skyline stretching out like a postcard someone forgot to mail. The cars are specks from up here, tiny dots crawling along the veins of Manhattan. It's almost peaceful if he squints hard enough to ignore the noise humming faintly in the background—the kind that never really stops, even at this height.

For a moment, it's quiet. Just him, the skyline, and the faint burn of vanilla still lingering on his tongue.

Then he hears it: your footsteps. Soft, slow, like you're trying not to startle him but also don't care enough to stop yourself from intruding. 

Of course you're here.

You stop just short of the railing at first, hovering like you're testing the waters. 

Then, after what feels like an eternity but is probably only a few seconds, you step closer and lean against it. Right next to him. Close enough that he can catch another whiff of that vanilla-milky-whatever-the-fuck scent that's been messing with his head all night.

He doesn't look at you. Doesn't have to. He knows exactly what you're doing—trying to see whatever it is he's staring at like it's some big mystery that needs solving.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth despite himself because yeah, this is so you. 

Meddling without actually meddling. Curious without outright saying it.

And he doesn't know how he knows that about you, but he does.

So when you finally break the silence with a casual, "What was that?"—your chin jutting toward his jacket pocket—he's not surprised. 

"Huh?" He plays dumb, glancing down at his pocket like he has no idea what you're talking about. "Nothing."

Your eyes narrow slightly, and he can feel your gaze boring into him even though he still refuses to meet it. 

“Nothing," you repeat flatly, like you don't believe him for a second. "Right."

"Yup." He pops the 'p' for emphasis and turns his attention back to the city below, hoping you'll drop it.

You don't.

"What kind of nothing are we talking about here?" Your tone is light, teasing—but there's an edge of curiosity there too. The kind that tells him you're not going to let this go anytime soon.

"It's just...nothing," he says again, more firmly this time but still avoiding your gaze.

"Uh-huh." You lean in slightly, tilting your head as if that'll give you a better angle on whatever he's hiding. "So nothing just happens to fit perfectly in your jacket pocket?"

He sighs, shaking his head slightly as a low chuckle escapes him despite himself. 

“You're relentless, you know that?"

"Yep," you say easily, popping the 'p' right back at him. "So? What is it?"

He hesitates for a moment, debating whether or not to tell you the truth. 

It's stupid—embarrassing even—but something about the way you're looking at him makes it hard to keep deflecting.

Finally, with a resigned sigh and a slight smirk tugging at his lips, he pulls the flask out of his pocket and holds it up for you to see.

"It's vanilla extract," he says simply.

You blink at him, clearly not expecting that answer. 

“Vanilla extract," you repeat slowly, like you're waiting for him to say he's joking.

"Yup." 

He unscrews the cap and takes another small sip just to prove his point before screwing it back on and slipping it into his pocket again.

For once, you're speechless—and Jungkook can't help but feel a small sense of victory as he leans back against the railing with a smug grin on his face.

"Happy now?"

The silence stretches a beat too long after his admission. He licks vanilla residue off his bottom lip, the sweetness turning cloying under your stare.

"It's pathetic, I know."  

"I mean—it's weird," you say, shrugging. "But not pathetic-weird. Just… niche."  

He huffs, drumming his fingers against the railing. "Yeah, who the fuck drinks vanilla extract, huh? Couldn't stick to whiskey like a normal fuckup. Had to be quirky.”

The word drips with self-mockery.  

You lean back, arms crossed. "We all have our vices. At least you don't smell like an ashtray."  

"You'd kick my ass if I smoked in the apartment."  

"Damn right."  

The corner of his mouth twitches. Below, a siren wails—distant, unimportant. He watches you watch the city, the neon glow catching on your eyes.

"It's… comforting. Don't know why. Ethanol or whatever—therapist says it's placebo with benefits."  

"Placebo with benefits," you repeat, deadpan. "That your band name?"  

He snorts. "Nah. Ethanol Enthusiasts."  

"Catchy."  

Another pause. 

The wind tugs at his sleeves, carrying your scent again. 

Fuck.  

"What started it?" you ask, casual as someone asking about the weather.  

His thumb rubs the flask's engraving—a nervous tic he didn't know he had. 

“Didn't wanna become my old man. Found this… seemed safer." The admission tastes bitter. He backtracks with a shrug. "Therapist greenlit it. Win-win."  

You hum, noncommittal. 

“Explains why you're obsessed with vanilla lattes."  

"Am not—"  

"You are. You side-eye my tea like it's piss."  

"Because it is piss. Chamomile's for grandmas."  

"Says the guy sipping baking supplies."  

He barks a laugh, sharp and surprised. When he turns, you're smirking—that infuriating, I-win smirk that usually makes him want to rile you up. 

Now it just feels… warm.  

"You smell like vanilla," he says softly.  

Your smirk falters. "You've mentioned. Usually when you're—"  

"Not then." He cuts you off, voice lower. "All the time. Even when you're not… y'know."  

"Y'know?" You raise a brow.  

"Fuckin'—wearing shit. Perfume. Whatever." He gestures vaguely at you. "It's just… you."  

The words hang, raw and clumsy. 

You blink, that sharp mask slipping for a half-second. He watches your throat move as you swallow.  

"Huh," you say finally.  

"Huh," he mimics, too quick. Deflect. Always deflect. "Maybe you're part cookie. Secretly."  

You freeze. Just for a heartbeat. 

Then you smirk, but it doesn't reach your eyes. 

“Maybe I'm marinating."

"Maybe," he murmurs. 

Another siren. Another beep. Another car being way too loud in this fucking city.

"Or maybe you were made just for me."

It slips out. Too raw. Too honest.

Shit.  

Jungkook's throat tightens—what the fuck was that? 

He licks his lips, grip tightening on the railing as he scrambles to claw the moment back from the edge of whatever that just was.  

"I mean—" He forces a scoff, rolling his eyes like he's mocking himself. "—or you're just some undercover therapist plant. Be honest." 

He side-eyes you, smirk plastered on. 

“You know Dr. Liao, don't you? This is an intervention. 'Let's gaslight Jungkook into emotional vulnerability via mediocre sex and vanilla-scented body wash—'"  

You snort, cutting him off. "Mediocre?"  

"Painfully average."  

"Excuse you?" You open your mouth exaggeratedly, and he can't help but grin at the sheer offense in your expression. "Okay wow, we are never having sex again."

"Cap."

"Are you seriously using online slang in real life?"

"Yeah, because you're capping."

"I am not capping and stop doing that, it's so cringe."

"But you just said capping too?"

"I—that's because you said it first you moron!"

"And you said it second so who's the real moron here?"

"That's it, I'm never wearing vanilla perfume ever again."

He stops abruptly at that. Looks you in the eyes.

"Like you are right now?"

You open your mouth. Close it real fast. Press your lips together. 

"Maybe."

"No maybes. I can literally smell it from here."

He tilts his head slowly, letting you move back if that's what you want. 

But you don't.

And he takes that as an invitation, his nose hovering over the soft spot under your ear, where you always apply your cologne on.

"Right here." He mutters, voice velvety and rough. "Really makes me wanna fuck you."

You don't move your head, but your hands come to rest on his chest, and he likes that. 

Likes that, despite whatever semblance of control you're trying to channel, you're slipping out of balance. 

Like you need to hold on to something—on to him. 

"I could fuck you here, you know." He continues, pressing his lips against your skin as he angles your bodies just right—your back against the railing, both his arms caging you in. "Right against the railing. Give the locals a nice view."

"You're insane." You say, but it lacks conviction. He knows it does. "Nobody down there could see us from below, this is a skyscraper and we're on the rooftop."

He clicks his tongue, but can't quite hide his amusement. 

"Always ruining the fun. Is this your way of saying no?"

You lick your lips. Feel the goosebumps erupt as his lips trail down your neck.

"No."

"Hmm?" He plants another kiss. "So is it your way of saying yes?"

"No." 

You repeat; and this time he actually leans back a bit, trying to figure out what you're aiming for. 

"It's a ‘maybe when we get home’. We are not fucking in public, Ro, during your birthday, when all your friends are gonna be wondering where we both are."

His eyes don't stray away from yours. Then, he chuckles. 

He doesn't know why he chuckles. Doesn't understand what about your commentary he found funny. Perhaps it's your way of being sensitive even when he's goofing around but totally ready to fuck you for real if you so much as ask. 

But it feels familiar. 

Safe.  

No feelings, no depth—just the usual bullshit.

He likes it. Likes how your smirk looks softer now, under the moonlight, eyes crinkling at the corners, and fuck, he needs another sip of vanilla.  

But the flask stays buried in his pocket.  

And then you say, "c'mon, Rogue. Your fanclub's singing off-key Mariah Carey downstairs."  

And he can't help but reply with a "fuck, really?"  

"Taehyung's hitting whistle tones. It's apocalyptic."  

He groans, pushing off the railing. "Fine. But you're explaining why I'm not drunk."  

"Tell them you're a pastry chef now."  

"Fuck you."  

"When we get home—"

The rooftop door slams open with enough force to make both of you jump apart like startled cats. 

Taehyung stands in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes wild as they scan the space before landing on Jungkook.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he breathes, voice tight with something that sounds suspiciously like genuine panic. "You're up here? On a rooftop?"

Jungkook stiffens beside you, his casual posture vanishing in an instant. 

“Tae—"

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" 

Taehyung cuts him off, storming across the rooftop with the intensity of a small hurricane. 

His eyes flick briefly to you, then back to Jungkook, who suddenly looks like he wants to melt into the concrete. 

"A rooftop? Really?"

You glance between them, completely lost.

 There's clearly something happening here that you're not privy to—some subtext that makes this more than just Taehyung being dramatic about Jungkook ditching his own party.

"It's fine," Jungkook says, his voice careful in a way you've never heard before. "I just needed some air."

"Air," Taehyung repeats, like the word tastes bitter. "Sure. Great. Because there's definitely not air anywhere else in this building." 

His hands are shaking, you notice. Actually trembling. 

"What the fuck, Kook."

"Tae," Jungkook steps forward, reaching for his friend's shoulder, "it's not like that. I swear. I'm okay."

Taehyung's eyes close briefly, his jaw working like he's grinding his teeth. When he opens them again, there's a vulnerability there that makes you feel like you're intruding on something intensely private.

"You can't just—" he starts, then stops, inhaling sharply. "You can't disappear and then be on a fucking rooftop, man. Not after—"

He cuts himself off again, shooting another glance your way.

"I'm sorry," Jungkook says quietly, and there's so much weight in those two words that your own chest tightens in response. "I didn't think about it like that. I just needed to get away for a minute, and this was the first place I found."

"Because you needed to get away," Taehyung says flatly, and there's a question buried in there somewhere.

Jungkook hesitates, his eyes darting to you for just a fraction of a second. 

"Mia's downstairs. Or was. We ran into her in the hallway."

The change in Taehyung is immediate and alarming. His face drains of color, then flushes with anger so quickly it's like watching a stoplight change.

"Mia's here?" His voice drops to something dangerous and low. "That fucking—where is she? Did she say something to you? What did she do?"

"Nothing. She's gone," Jungkook says quickly, reaching out to grip Taehyung's arm like he's physically restraining him. "She was with some friends in another room. Just bumped into her on the way to the bathroom."

"And said what, exactly?" Taehyung demands, not even trying to hide his hostility now.

"Nothing important," Jungkook insists, though his tight expression suggests otherwise. "Just Mia being Mia. It's fine."

"It's clearly not fine if you're hiding on a rooftop," Taehyung snaps, then immediately looks like he regrets it. His shoulders slump slightly. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—I was just worried."

"I know," Jungkook says, and there's something so gentle in his tone that you feel like you're witnessing a side of him you've never seen before. "It's okay. I'm okay. Promise."

You shift awkwardly, suddenly very aware that you're intruding on something deeply personal. 

“I should, uh, maybe head back downstairs," you offer, already taking a step toward the door.

Two pairs of eyes snap to you, like they'd forgotten you were there. 

Jungkook looks caught between relief and something else—regret, maybe?—while Taehyung's expression is blank now.

"No, stay," Jungkook says quickly. 

Too quickly. 

Then, more casually: "I mean, we were about to head back anyway, right?"

"Right," you agree, though it feels like you're reading from a script you haven't seen before. "Mariah Carey and all that."

"God, they're still on that." Taehyung rolls his eyes, making a visible effort to shake off whatever just happened. "Hobi's been trying to hit the high note in 'Emotions' for like twenty minutes. It's a massacre."

"Can't be worse than your Eminem," you say, hoping to lighten the mood.

It works, sort of. Taehyung's mouth quirks up at one corner. 

"Excuse you, I killed that performance."

"Yeah, killed it dead," you agree. "Like, murder. Homicide. Call the rap police."

Jungkook snorts, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Rap police?"

"You know what I mean," you say, waving a hand dismissively. "Let's go save Mariah from Hobi before someone calls actual law enforcement."

As you all move toward the door, you notice Taehyung hanging back just enough to place a hand on Jungkook's shoulder, squeezing once—firm, grounding.

Jungkook nods, a tiny movement you almost miss, and something passes between them again—silent but significant.

But it's not your story to know. Not yet, anyway.

So you lead the way back inside, pretending you didn't notice the way Taehyung's hand shook as it fell back to his side, or the way Jungkook's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he followed you through the door.

Some things are better left unasked. At least for now.

goal: 600 notes (this chapter was posted after both goals were reached. unfortunately the previous chapter suffered mass unvoting on wattpad after i published the next chapter. please go vote on chapter 21 in WP to restore the original numbers and not mislead any new reader 🫶🏻.)

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[rafeandonlyrafe]

obsessive love

words: 2.1k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, smut!!!, MURDER!!!, SERIAL KILLER!RAFE, PSYCHO!RAFE but sweet with reader, best friends to lover, DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD AND STABBING, physical violence, psycho!reader as well!, romanticization/sexualization of murder?, mentions of stalking (in the past), road head, blowjob, p in v sex, semi public sex, rafe beating up your dates tehe, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (advisement to take caution and heed warnings! ty)

rafe is only half paying attention as the movie plays out on the screen. he’s far more focused on the way you’re tucked into him, squealing every time a jumpscare happens and ducking your head into his chest with a wide smile on your face.

it’s not unusual for you to get touchy with him, to cuddle in bed after a day together or hold hands when in a crowd. but lately rafe has found it difficult to not take things further. he has loved you since first grade. not had a crush on like some people like to say. no, rafe only knows deep, obsessive love for you.

it’s why you barely dated anyone high school, rafe was always there to beat your date up and make sure they didn’t reveal it was him. afterall, you’re his best friend. he just wants you to be happy. happy and with him. no one else deserves you, or can protect you the way he can, go to the extreme lengths rafe will.

rafe realized he was in deep shit when he was stalking one of your dates that he wasn’t able to get to. he dropped you off on your front porch and had the audacity to kiss you. rafe exploded the second you were inside. you found your date a bleeding and bruised pulp still on your doorstep the next morning.

“its not even that scary.” rafe chuckles, teasing you as you grip onto his forearm.

“yes it is!” you love getting scared. it’s what you often say is your worst feature. you may scream your head off at horror movies, but you’ll still drag rafe along to haunted houses come halloween and stay up late binging your favorite thrillers with a smile on your face despite the chills down your spine.

rafe forces himself to pay attention to the last couple minutes of the movie. its entertaining enough to distract him from wanting to pull you closer to him, to never let you go, to always keep you by his side where you're safe and happy.

an idea forms in rafes head as he watches the two characters finally kill the serial killer that had murdered all of their friends and tried to go after them. he watches the way they embrace, relief on their faces as they kiss, bonded together forever from the shared trauma.

rafe smiles as you ask him if he’s up for another movie, purposely navigating you to one involving an in love couple and people getting mysteriously murdered in their small town. rafe knows what he’s going to do to keep you close, to play into your fear and need for him.

--

“holy shit!” you grab the remote, unmuting the tv. you would apologize for using the language in front of wheezie, but she has just a bad of mouth as you do, and very little supervision now that ward is dead and rose fled with what little money she had left.

you both watch the news report on the edge of your seat, the anchor giving details on the recent murder in kildare. it’s a boy you went to school with, but haven’t spoken to since graduation. when the anchor begins to go over details of the murder, you click the tv off.

“hey!” wheezie argues, scrunching her brow as she looks at you, but you just shake your head. “you don’t need to be watching that kind of stuff, wheeze.”

you stand up to find rafe, eyes glancing around nervously, as if whoever murdered the boy could be lurking inside tanneyhill. you don’t realize that the murderer is just the man you want to see.

“rafe, oh my god!” you cry out when you round the corner to find him walking down the hallway. you fling your arms around his shoulders. he’s shocked for only a second before pulling you in, holding you by your waist as the words spill from your mouth, recounting the news to him.

“oh, that’s terrible.” he frowns, hand gliding up and down your back. “you better stay the night tonight, yeah?” he offers. it’s hours away from dark, but you certainly don’t want to venture home after hearing the news.

“yeah, if you don’t mind.” you feel your cheeks blush slightly, knowing you’ll end up sharing a bed with rafe as always.

“i never mind.” he smiles at you.

--

you wrap your arms around yourself as you watch the news report. the third murder in just under a month just took place last night. you lean against rafe, who presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“i can’t believe we knew all three people killed.” they weren’t particular gruesome deaths, most just a couple stabs with a sharp knife and leaving them to bleed out, there was no passion in the murder itself, no torturing or postmortem injuries.

“i know, it’s scary.” rafe is glad you can’t see the smile on his face. you already spent most nights anyways, but now you’re over more and more, only feeling safe when you have rafes arms around you. it makes it a little hard for him to slip away, but he finds the time.

“and not the fun kind of scary.” you pout. “although…” you trail off, almost like you didn’t mean to say it.

“although what?” rafe questions. 

you sit up a little straighter, wiping your hands on your pants. “it’s a little exciting, isn’t it?” you admit. “that makes me sick, doesn’t it?”

rafe shakes his head, pulling away slightly to see your big innocent eyes blinking up at him as you continue to explain. “obviously it’s terrible these people are dead but… god, it’s exhilarating!” your words switch to rambling as you finally get your feelings out. “like the thrill of knowing there’s someone out there killing people, it just makes me feel so alive! as long as i don’t get killed or anyone close to me-”

“i won’t kill you.” rafe says the words to stop your rambling, not even realizing his slip up. “i won’t let you get killed.” he quickly corrects himself.

“i know.” you look rafe up and down. he can tell when your face shifts into one of sheer concentration, mind slowly piecing the puzzle together. rafe needs to do something now before it all comes together.

he could scream or yell for wheezie or… rafe leans in and presses his lips against yours, mouths molding together. you hesitate for a moment before kissing back, much to rafes relief.

“i won’t let you get killed because i love you.” rafe says, hand cupping your jaw to bring you in for another kiss.

“oh, rafe.” you coo, smooching all across his face before landing on his lips again. “i love you too!”

--

it’s harder now that you’re moved in. you went from spending most nights in rafes bed to making tanneyhill your home as well, cuddling and kissing every night until you’re off to sleep.

he doesn’t need to kill as much now anyways, besides he’s got most of the boys from high school who looked at you a little too hard in your shorts for gym class, or said lude things about you when you weren’t around.

you’re well and truly his, but rafe can’t help himself. he loves the way you hide in his arms when a murder happens, how you kiss him deeply and tell him you love him so much, how you’re so glad that something good came out of something terrible and that you’re together now.

rafe waits until you’re fast asleep before slipping his arm out from under you. he grabs the knife from the back of his closet before heading out. he just needs someone. to stab and maim someone. it’s been months since the serial killers last appearance, and people are starting to relax again, including you, even asking if rafe minded if you went out with your girlfriends without him.

rafe does what he needs to do. he doesn’t enjoy the act itself, but he doesn’t dislike the feeling after either. he walks back into the house, knife bloody but wiped off on the victims own clothes as to not drip all over the house as he sneaks in.

his footsteps pause when he sees you standing there, robe wrapped around your shoulders. he knows you see it. he knows you know everything.

“baby, please don’t leave me i-”

“can i come with you next time?” 

“what?” your question shocks rafe, his voice raising before glancing up the stairs to make sure he didn’t wake wheezie.

“next time you kill someone. will you take me with you?” you ask, glancing at the knife, hating the rush you feel over your whole body when seeing it. it’s the last confirmation you needed for what you have been suspecting.

“i-baby, i don’t need to kill anymore. i’ll stop, it was just-”

“no.” you shake your head. “rafe, i don’t care. you can keep doing it. it’s… exciting.” you’re not ashamed this time when admitting it. you used to be worried about the murders but now you know there’s truly no need. rafe would never hurt you.

“okay.” he swallows, stepping closer, glad that you don’t turn away as you accept a kiss pressed to your lips. “okay, i’ll bring you next time.”

--

“shit, that was exciting!” you squeal, smiling as you turn to rafe. “seeing the life drain out of his eyes? and god, you were so hot when you stabbed him!”

“baby, you sound crazy.” rafe chuckles, easily gliding the car around the turns of the backroads, heading back towards home.

“rafe, you are a literal serial killer, i don’t think you should lecture me on sounding crazy.” you giggle, not even tired despite the late hour from all the adrenaline. “and god, you looked so hot stabbing that guy.”

you reach over and run your fingers down his forearm, remembering the way his muscles bulged and stretch when swinging the knife. your hand moves from rubbing his arm to his thigh, only pretending that your movements are innocent for a minute before you slide your hand up to his crotch, rubbing at his length, feeling it harden in his pants.

“baby-” rafe groans, eyes flicking between you, your hand, and the road in front of him illuminated by his headlights.

“just keep driving, it's okay.” you unbuckle so you can lean across the center console, lips pressing against his neck, tongue darting out to taste his skin.

you tug at the front of his sweatpants, rafe lifting his hips to assist you as the car engine roars. you grip his cock, teeth running over his jaw teasingly, never biting down as you stroke him eagerly, wanting to thank him for continuing his killing spree, for starting it for you and allowing you to take part.

“let me suck you off.” you gather your hair to one side, fucking your head until you're bent sideways. you hold rafes cock with one hand at his base while your lips sink down around the head, moaning at the familiar taste on your lips.

“fuck.” rafe swerves slightly, glad there's no one else on the road as you suck and lick at him, not caring that you're dripping spit down your chin from your movements.

“lemme pull over baby.” rafe says. he knows how much you like the excitement, the rare possibility someone could drive by, but he needs you hop0ing on his dick.

“fiiiine.” you say dramatically, going right back to sucking him off until rafe pulls on a dirt road. you work your shorts and panties off so the second the car is shifted into park, you swing your legs over to straddle rafe.

“shit, you're so wet.” rafe groans as you rub his cock through your folds.

“i told you.” you smirk at rafe. “you looked so hot killing that guy.”

you sink down before rafe can reply. 

the murders shift from rafe doing them in secret to make you rely on him, to force you closer, to something you do together, you often doing the planning while rafe finishes the task with violence.

you barely get back to the car before you jump on him, needing to feel his fingertips digging into your hips while he fucks ever, even if there are still specks of blood on him.

you know you won't get caught. no one would expect the former troubled teen turned happily domesticated man, raising his little sister after his father's death with his faithful girlfriend, to be the one behind the violence.

you see no reason to stop as rafe wipes his knife clean for what feels like the hundredth time.

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[colorfulwastelandvoid]

In defense of MelJay

I just need to say this…SHUT UP! Yall are all tap dancing on my last nerve.I’m am at my wits end with this fandom. Every time I think we take one step forward some dufus pushes us two steps back.

Okay. I’m arguing with a JayVik shipper on TikTok who says MelJay is boring and toxic. I am about to explode this shit can’t still be the main conversation about this ship.

So first off MelJay is “boring”. This isn’t unique to JayVik nor is it the first time someone has said this about MelJay, but I always find it weird when people say certain ships are boring. The ships in question are usually just chill and communicative so there is no needless drama. This probably relates more to online fandoms’ obsession with romanticizing toxicity but I digress. It’s weird that the tension and political intrigue,something of which yall claim to love about the show overall, is in someway boring. The fact they are not constantly arguing or disregarding each other was nice cause I hate that those interactions are normalized in fandom in regard to romantic ships. If one of them had something to say then they would just say it and they would discuss it and move on like a normal couple. There is a lot to digest with them though as separate characters and as a couple. While Mel and Jayce are similar they obviously are not exactly alike. Mel it’s a lot more closed off and tempered and Jayce is more emotionally open and is hot headed. Both want to do good and have enough ambition to do so. It is their methods that differentiate them. Mel is more comfortable working behind the scenes whereas Jayce runs head first. These little differences offers up moments of character growth for both these characters. Mel started to become more aggressive (she was never docile) in her emotions and tactics where Jayce became more level headed.

The second one is that they are toxic. I’m going to keep this part short cause I already addressed this multiple times on this tumblr, so I’ll just bring up my highlights. Mel was not manipulating Jayce throughout their whole relationship. The only times where we see her manipulations is with Hoskel , but f him who cares about that man, and Jayce during progress day when they weren’t even together and Viktor wanted Jayce to do the same thing Mel was asking him to do. He didn’t even listen to her either. Mel and Jayce were genuinely attracted to one another so no she didn’t eventually fall for him she liked him from the first kiss. After a certain point we must recognize that Jayce was coming to Mel for advice and she gave it. Whether he listened to her or not. The investment line, an investment to Mel is not the same as investment to Jayce. An investment to Mel is like an action word. She invested in Hextech cause she genuinely believed in Jayce and Viktors ability to do good and she wanted to help similar to how a parent invest in their child, not because they think they’ll get something in return but because they love and believe in their kid. Jayce knows that, hence why he apologized for insinuating otherwise.

A lot of the so called toxicity the fandom claims they see is cause no one is meaningfully engaging with Mel or Jayce as characters but are just trying to get them to work in whatever ship they see fit.

Listen at the end of the day ship who you want but how you ship is gonna get your critiqued. For the love of anything that’s holy engage with the characters as their own separate entities. Your ships will thank you for it.

Ps I doubt this will be the last time some one will piss me off about Mel, Jayce or their relationship but I’m trying to keep this page more happy, for a lack of better words,so I’m trying not to rant to much. I got one more though. It’ll be way shorter though.

[bettsfic]

How did you feel about anora? 👀 I absolutely loved it but there's so many haters, especially on Tumblr, to where I felt like I watched a completely different film from them. I'm really glad I watched it before the majority got to it because I feel like seeing all those takes first would have really ruined it for me.

i loved it. as soon as i've sent this next revision of my novel off for feedback i'm going to finish my first kiss fic, which will be CUTE and FLUFFY and not EMOTIONALLY HARROWING i swear.

when i first watched anora, i noticed a lot of comparisons between it and my own writing (in terms of character, plot, aesthetic), so i can kind of get a sense why people don't like it based on the same reasons people don't vibe with my writing. namely, the extremely wide tonal range. many people are made uncomfortable by stories that bounce around between comedy and tragedy and realism and surrealism and absurdism. not to mention that the sex scenes are not heightened into eroticism, they're just like any other scene, except the characters are naked. people generally like for sex scenes to be bookmarked by a tonal shift into "this is a special and important scene." that is, if they can handle sex scenes at all. not to mention ani doesn't feel any shame about her profession. that's just not a conflict she has. a lot of people want sex work stories to have an element of shame in them. thankfully sean baker was like, nah.

to me, anora is a very asexual movie. i have an entire short story collection about asexual sex stories, and that collection didn't sell i think because a lot of people aren't ready for asexual sex, and don't even know that's what they're looking at. anora is a movie where sex is ultimately meaningless as sex -- it's only a vehicle for character and conflict. for ani, sex and money and self-worth are all tangled up together, and that's what creates the conflict. not to mention, it's a funny movie but the sex and sex work isn't what we're laughing at.

i would argue she's not physically attracted to vanya; she, like many women who probably never got to be kids, romanticizes boyishness, playfulness and whimsy and freedom from consequences. i feel like she's not driven to be with vanya as much as she is to live his life, to become like him. their sex isn't intimate or intense; it's playful and even fairly innocent. at one point she even says to him, if you go slow it feels better/you'll last longer (i forget the exact line), because vanya is only ever chasing the most intense pleasure, even if it's extremely short-lived, because he knows he has an infinite supply of it.

meanwhile in the back half of the movie, we get to witness ani from igor's perspective. we're not watching ani watching vanya; we're watching igor watching ani and becoming enamored with her the same way she became enamored with vanya. the only difference is that i think igor admires and even adores ani for who she is. unlike everyone else, ani isn't putting on a show for him, in fact she pushes him away repeatedly. he's seeing her real colors.

and that last scene is what elevated the film for me from "wow i really loved this" to "holy SHIT." the whole movie, ani is so tough and strong. and that's a front but it's also carefully measured. she never gives any of her emotions off to other people. or rather, her battles. she fights all of them on her own all the time and doesn't trust anyone else to fight with her.

so when she sees igor's interest, she refuses to take the offer as its presented, with earnestness and respect. instead of giving in, she fights it by going, yeah yeah i see you think you like me but i promise you only want to fuck me, so to push him away even further she goes to have sex with him. but she won't kiss him, because that's what'll give her away. and then she breaks down and lets him comfort her, and we see this whole movie isn't about how strong ani is, but how lonely and lost she is. she's a woman who's never known love without concession, who's never known freedom or girlhood, who's never trusted anyone to have her best interests at heart.

anora is a story that's about sex but not about attraction. it's a story about a woman but it's not about the strength of womanhood. it's a story that's laugh-out-loud funny in equal measure to its profound tragedy.

i don't know all the discourse and i'm not really interested to see the reasons for hating it, but my bet is that some viewers were made very uncomfortable by this film and can't fully articulate why, but instead of sitting with that discomfort they reject it and label it a bad movie for whatever reasons they manage to rationalize.

i get it, there are some people who just dislike this movie. i get why someone would watch it and go "this isn't for me" because i get why people read my writing and go "this isn't for me." but i also think any criticism based on lofty ideals of "should" and "should not" might just be rejecting something they don't really understand.

[cultkinkcoven]

We all know that tiktok has terrible spiritual advice but the worst one by far that I see so often, disturbingly often, is the:

“10 signs you’re experiencing a spiritual enlightenment!

1: You start seeing shadow people!”

Because holy shit… No. that’s not how this works. Seeing shadow people should be a warning sign of spiritual psychosis (or visual impairment, get your eyes checked y’all)

I hate this one because I remember when I believed this I was actually trying to see shadow people. And of course I did because I was convincing myself I should be. Seeing shadow people does not mean you’ve unlocked the ability to “see passed the veil” or whatever. The veil is there for your protection, it’s a very good thing that we’re lucky to have. Seeing passed it is not something that just starts happening randomly the moment you reach some hypothetical “enlightenment”.

There are some cultural spiritual beliefs about shadow people that have legitimate basis, but every time I see it spoken of online it’s always romanticized. Seeing shadows people is not any sort of indication of your spiritual enlightenment. If anything, it’s a sign to do some banishment and check up on your mental health. People who peddle this are usually preying on those with dissociative disorders or hallucinations, or are experiencing these things themselves without realizing it.

If I were to give an actual indication of enlightenment, it would be noticing the profound interconnectness of life on this planet. Having empathy for people you previously didn’t understand. Realizing how your perspective informs your beliefs, that’s true enlightenment. Seeing shadow people, ghosts, ghouls, goblins, is not.

[skarkkk]

People are so sick they make me want to vomit. Stop writing like Robby cheated on his girlfriend when he was raped, stop acting like it was cheating and not the fucking rape, my god, I have no patience for that kind of people because it's the height of stupidity.

People hate him for nothing and for nothing. And yes I say nothing, don't get me wrong, I completely understand the whole situation of the third season, but fuck it??? If the characters themselves forgave, moved on (not in the way I wanted it to be developed, but you can't expect much from a Netflix series) what the fuck are you going to do?? ( And I'm not even going to say my opinion about the fight because it would be an even bigger outbreak)

They put Kyler as a joke, Tory as a very deep plan that was never touched on again and now Zara and Robby as cheating??? It's disgusting.

I search the Robby Keene tag on ao3 and I want him to be comforted by someone trustworthy (give him happiness, I dare you Netflix) and so far I've only found three, three that were actually good, because the rest either make the situation 100% worse for no reason or are about things that have nothing to do with the situation. Give him a trustworthy adult who actually works, here we believe that Amanda would have done it differently and that she would see the situation because she seems to be the only sane one in this whole karate thing (and Shawn, but that's another thing).

I hate that they're going to treat it as a cheat plot in the last part, I hate that they're going to romanticize this as much as fucking hell and that it's going to fuck with Robby even more for no reason. It was completely UNNECESSARY to put SA there or at all other times and it's not even used for character development, for the plot, or who knows what, but for a fucking joke, a cheat plot to mess with the best couple in the series.

Fuck it, forever faithful to the opinion that Robby deserves much more.

Tumblr, surprisingly even though it's an american app, is safer to discuss this than with the brazilian fandom on TikTok, holy shit.

This post shouldn't even be this long, but I can't help myself.

[hana-no-seiiki]

HELLO??? WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS MASTERPIECE??? especially the last line holy shit im scared yet excited at the same time 😬😬

YANDERE! AQUAMARINE HOSHINO x REINCARNATED! READER x YANDERE! RUBY

Guess I gotta do a full fic about it huh. Here we go. Link to previous part in the ask!

tw/cw: yandere themes, gaslight tactics courtesy of aqua, girlkeep tactics courtesy of ruby, girlboss [y/n]. mentions of suicide. reader is gn but gets described as beautiful.

is this really a yandere fic when both the twins are canonically insane tho-

IT WAS SAID THAT DURING THE NIGHT OF YOUR BIRTH THE SUN WAS AT ITS HIGHEST POINT AND FULLEST BLOOM.

Its rays buried humanity under a blanket of heat and devastation. Fortunetellers would wax on and on of the disasters you would soon bring upon the world.

That was your experience in your first life.

Many could only wish of being born to a worldwide pop-star, but to you it was a reality. You resented those that vied for your place. How could they romanticize such a life when every single day was torture for you. Some predicted you to be world-class singer before your first cry. People knew you before you could even speak to them. Everyone already idolized you, expected you to do great things before you’d even learn the alphabet.

The pressure had already been insurmountable the moment you took your first breath.

Your second life was terrifying to say the least. It didn’t matter that way you died before, just the thought of experiencing the same motions again frightened you to your bones.

And so you pretended. A shining star to a dim moon that barely reflected any light. Ever so meticulously making sure none knew of your so called genius. The last thing you wanted was to be labeled a prodigy even with the more lax nature of your new family.

But art will always call to you, a sunflower drawn to its source of energy.

You kept everything as lowkey as you could, reconnected with contacts you knew would keep their mouth shut, and even kept your identity away from prying eyes.

To the world you were just this masked musician that was oddly reminiscent of their previous luminescence.

You were satisfied with that life. Fame wasn’t something you agonized about or wished for. But now that veil had been taken away, it’s as if everything was crashing down yet again. Emails, messages and articles about your success as a young star was beginning to show its true weight. Stress began accumulating further and further as you had distanced yourself from your family and threw yourself to work as a distraction.

On one such ‘productive’ night, you were met with a face you didn’t expect.

“Aqua-niisama! Nice seeing you here. Thought you would be staying at that director’s place for the night—“

“Why didn’t you tell me? Didn’t you promise to tell me everything? Don’t you trust me?”

Aquamarine had this knack of being utterly terrifying without meaning to. He had the talent to frighten at a glance. His beautiful sea-like eyes turn dull, murky. Capturing all the light, and drowning you in the same pressure your old family would throw you under repeatedly.

With his arms caging you between his form and the wall, you knew there was no escaping this. So in spite of the crippling anxiety, you gulp it do

“I wasn’t confident enough with my skills. Your mom is the Ai Hoshino and Ruby is so talented I—“

He lowered his face, nestled it right beside yours. You could swear he was breathing in your scent. “You looked anything but ‘not confident’ up on the stage.”

“Liar.” His hands then moved from the wall to encircle themselves around your body; his face to your the top of your head and nose between your hair. Yet even in this tight embrace you still felt chills down your spine. “I scare you don’t I? You were worried that I would stop you like I did with her.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I’m a terrible brother.”

“No, I understand you. You just wanted to keep her safe and I—“

“Not for that.” He pushed himself away for a couple of moments, and for that short amount of time you were ashamed to say that you felt utterly relieved until— “This.”

— he kissed you.

You’ve seen Aqua kiss Akane before. Both on and out of camera. You respected their relationship despite knowing of how unhealthy it truly is. They’d eventually break up and things would go smoothly you thought.

Pfft, as if. You knew shit would hit the fan. You were just too much of a coward to get in his way. Akane could suffer for all you care, she chose to date your psychopath of an adoptive brother anyways.

But you didn’t expect him to fall for you.

He never seem interested. Despite your mother telling you time and time again that Aqua cared deeply about you, you just couldn’t see it.

He was the deep, dark ocean. You were at the highest point of the sky, sailing across the cosmic sea. There was no way you two could meet eye to eye much less love normally.

You did the only thing your body could muster at the moment and slapped him.

“You’re right. You are a horrid brother.”

As you ran away, sobbing, Aqua couldn’t help but feel aroused.

Oh, how charming you looked with tears streaking down your cheeks.

It felt like hours when you first started crying nonstop. You never cried in your original life. You had no time or energy to. You never expected that your second, mundane life would be the one that shattered you.

And shattered you it did. You felt sorry for the future you who had to wash off all the tears and snot on your pillows and bedsheets, but it had to be done. You knew if you didn’t let it all out that day it’d happen sooner or later at a more inconvenient time.

Aqua only entered once to leave a tissue box and water bottle before he left. The sounds of typing outside of your room never ceased however, indicating he never actually went too far.

Ruby arrived far earlier than you expected as well. Her schedule that day should have had her busy til midnight but you had the feeling Aqua told her what he’d done.

“Ruby-nee—“

“Ssshhh…” Ruby silenced you with a kiss to the forehead.

“Why would he do that— he - he has a girlfriend.” You stuttered and hiccuped throughout your speech, still crying as hard as you did back then.

“Do you really think he loves her?”

“No.”

“But that isn’t what you’re worried about isn’t it?”

Ruby brought you up to her shoulder, massaging your back in a circular motion. “Trust me, nothing will change. He loves you very much. We both love you. I’m just sorry we didn’t make you feel comfortable enough to share your passion with us. You’re amazing [Y/N] in every shape, way or form. You don’t have to be the brightest to the world, you have no obligation to.”

“To us you’re already perfect.”

You never knew she had the capability to be this comforting in a mature sort of way. She always radiated a loud vibration; refreshing most of the time, though it did get tiring.

Never have you been afforded this kind of consolation. It was always you against the world. Being reminded that there are other stars in the sky beside you gave you a strange sense of solace. An odd variety of relief borne out of being insignificant in the sky.

“This incident just means he loves you in a different way alright?”

“But what about Aka-neesama?”

“I’ll talk to him about it.”

“You should thank me. I left them all vulnerable for you.” Aqua spoke, his right hand quickly moved across his laptop’s keyboard and his left held a can of Monster.

“You felt it too didn’t you?” Ruby exhaled. It took a while to get you to lull you into sleep; a necessary step to have the conversation she was partaking in.

“Yeah. . . I did.” Aqua took a sip from his drink, his starry eyes laser focused on the recording of your performance. He had set up several fan accounts and gotten footage from all sorts of angles. He couldn’t wait for your next stage. May it be from sheer excitement or the caffeine in his blood, but the man was absolutely shaking all over over in anticipation. “We have a second chance, don’t mess things up.”

“I should be saying that to you. Break up with Akane by next week. And be careful with how forward you are with your feelings.”

“Already done.” Aqua held up his phone without breaking moving his head at all, in his phone were a few texts between him and a panicking Akane. “and no promises”

Ruby sighed one last time that night, leaning her head back to your bedroom door. “. . . You were right.”

“Hm?”

Both of her eye’s stars hard turn tar black, a blush covered her cheeks.

“[Y/N] does look enticing when they cry.”

[doctoratecuddles]

part of me wants to believe KC is able to move past this and drop her predator friends and just go AWOL but my god. knowing KC just wants constant backpats and is willing to suck up to any community that allows her to flaunt her harmful fetishes (which, lets be honest, is an addiction if shes willing to draw a fully colored 100+ page incest cub comic and possible others that aren't released yet plus her constantly talking about it it seems) and not willing to put in the effort to actually heal in productive ways. I genuinely want the best for KC and for kit not to do anything drastic but I also want to see her actually make the effort to realize "wait, this isn't really helping at all" but after seeing post after post from squeak its obvious that squeak is not willing to help squeakself and is still stuck in that victim mentality and is constantly lashing out for what she wants to minimize as "comforts". her guilt tripping everyone isn't gonna make the blow softer after seeing her admit to being into this shit and! being abused does not mean she then gets to become the abuser and surround herself with them to continue this cycle over and over. I doubt KC is reading this but genuinely, someone who is 24 should not be minimizing and making abuse material "cutesy" with rainbows and sparkle vomit colored furries and then being surprised when the only people who are still willing to stick around are people who are willing to enable you, KC I genuinely hope you are able to log off for a good long while and find a real life support system and cut off the abusers you call "friends", if you want to truly heal it genuinely starts with you and what you consume and differentiating it as fetish/romanticization or something actually healing that wont have you stuck in your trauma.

FUCKING POP OFF HOLY SHIT

[mythoughtsxxblog]

YOU Series Review

If you don’t want to be spoiled please do not read the rest of this post. I just finished the entire series and I need to talk about the finale.

Please don’t read ahead if you’re not done with season 5….

Holy shit. It’s over. I’m feeling so many things right now but the first thing I want to say is, 👏👏👏 Penn Badgley deserves all the awards. That man is the reason why this show was a huge success. His acting doesn’t get nearly enough recognition and it’s so aggravating that he hasn’t won a single thing for his portrayal as Joe Goldberg. The way he can portray Joe as this tender and sweet man to snapping almost immediately to depict him as the monster that he truly is, impeccable.

This show has been part of my life for 7 years and although I’m upset it’s all over, I’m so satisfied with the ending. I love that they made the final season about Beck and getting her justice. I feel like so many people obsess over Love that they forget this all started with Beck. It started and ended with her and I love that. Another thing I loved so much is that they didn’t kill him. He didn’t die and I was so afraid they were going to do that. I even predicted that Henry would kill him, but thankfully he ended up right where he belongs. Alone in a jail cell. Something else I’d like to bring up is that final scene. My god how chilling. Joe is reading a fan letter and it’s filled with so much shit about how amazing he is and basically romanticizing him. Which is what viewers of this show have done since the very beginning. I remember even Penn getting so annoyed with the fact that people were on joes side and defending him. That entire scene with him reading the letter was a blatant callout to all the people that watched this show and romanticized Joe Goldberg. “Maybe the problem isn’t me. Maybe it’s YOU.” FUCKING CHILLS. Also Henry calling him the monster in his room….so good.

Another aspect of the final season I enjoyed was the fact that they brought back Will Bettelheim!!!! Such a great throwback. And compared to last season, this had vibes from season 1. I liked that there wasn’t too many new faces and it being set in New York really added a nice touch to the overall vibe. I’m going to miss this show terribly especially seeing Penn go nuts in all his scenes, but I’m happy with the way it ended and there will never be another show like it.

[mccn-bcys]

JUST A TOUCH OF YOUR HAND pt. 3

pairing: moonboys x fem!reader

summary: jake finally makes his debut to ask the reader a question the boys have been dying to ask. reader gives her answer and jake is just a cutie.

warning: jake (he's a warning, yes), just some nice fluff for ya.

authors note: okay ik a lot of you have been wanting this chapter for a long time (sorry about the long wait, I had a lot going on the past couple of months). this chapter isn't as long as the others but it just felt right to have this one be short and sweet. the next chapter, maybe we'll see some more of marc 😏🤭

word count: 1,028

and then there was jake. it was funny actually. he'd been dreaming of meeting his soulmate since he had gotten the stain. and he had so badly wanted to meet you when you first brushed against their hand on the sidewalk that day.

god how he wanted to meet you. and yet he couldn't make himself front. even when steven or marc would hand it over to him, especially when you'd plan days to meet and spend with him, he just couldn't front.

none of them understood it. it's like he'd freeze up. it was eating him up. he was pretty sure he was in love with you – actually he was positive he was in love with you. and he'd never even actually met you!

you, being the amazing person you were, were so patient with him. whenever you'd see the boys on the days you were going to meet jake, and find out he wasn't fronting, you'd have marc or steven tell him you didn't mind waiting.

"you boys are all worth waiting for," you'd say, making them melt.

and jake would try more to front around you and it just wouldn't happen. he couldn't figure out why. although on a deeper level, he knew why.

he supposed he wasn't much different than marc. as much of a hopeless romantic as he was, he also knew his reputation. it was said reputation that caused him to romanticize the thought of a soulmate. he never really thought himself capable of being loved. if marc thought his hands were stained with blood, jake was swimming in it.

if he was realistic, he couldn't imagine why you would love him. he was ruthless, he could be cold, he had a tendency to shut people out if they got too close.

But he wanted you to get too close. He wanted to able to talk to you, learn about you and not through the other two. He wanted to hold you and comfort you, and be held and be comforted by you.

but like marc, he'd been scared. scared you'd run for it, if you knew him. everyone else did.

and yet here you were: sitting across the table, smiling so wide, eyes so patient, like he's your favorite person in the world. if you kept going, he's sure he would probably cry.

"jake?" you called cautiously, breaking him from his thoughts. his eyes snap to yours, smiling at you. he thinks: 'they're right...the way she says our names is addicting.'

"sí, amor?" he answers softly, but you seem to brighten up even more.

"yes," you simply said.

his eyebrows furrow. had he asked a question?

yes, you did, you bloody idiot!

holy shit...she actually said yes...

"yes?" he repeated, since his alters weren't helping him at all.

you laughed at that, at him seemingly forgetting his own question. he loved that sound.

"you asked me to move in," you reminded him patiently.

"and you said yes?"

"I did."

"but you don't know me," he tries to reason, because how on earth would you have agreed to move in with the mess of these three men?

"I know that i love marc and steven, and if I love them, i already love you too," were you trying to kill him?

"why?"

that threw you for a loop. you hadn't been expecting it. why did you love this man you've never actually met?

"well...for starters, we're soulmates-"

"that doesn't mean that I'm not a terrible person." steven had warned you of this. that he might try to talk of himself like this.

"but you're not-"

"you don't know that."

"except that I do."

"how could you possibly know that?"

"because I just do-"

"amor, that's not an answ-"

"I know because you're a weirdo who wears gloves while he drives a limo. You send a bouquet of my favorite flowers every time you can't front when we planned. I know because I can feel you follow me home every night after work when you're patrolling, making sure I get home safe. I know because marc's told me that you can't pass a cat without petting it. I know because I *know.* You're a *good man,* jake," you say, looking at him completely serious.

and for the first time in a long time, every voice in his head is silent. they're at a loss for words. there's this strange feeling in jake's heart and he's never felt it before.

what is that, he thinks.

that's love, jake.

it feels like a heart attack.

yeah...it's great, innit?

you watch him closely while he's silent, watching to see if you've overstepped somehow. to try and see what he's feeling. amd when he stands, you're worried he's leaving. that he's going to change his mind about wanting you to move in.

but he quickly crosses over to you and he cups your face, gentle as he is urgent, and leans down and kisses you, deeply, passionately. and for a moment, you're confused. but you quickly kiss him back, matching his energy, his passion. after a moment, he pulls away, both of you panting lightly, breathless from the kiss. he presses his forehead to yours, looking into your eyes so intensely you swear he can see your soul.

"te amo jodidamente mucho," he says, voice barely above a whisper.

"I love you too," you say back softly, meaning every word.

jake has feel that twist in his heart again, but he knows what it is now. it's love. and it's strange and foreign but...he thinks he likes it. he feels like he's never smiled so wide in his life. he presses one more soft kiss to your lips before moving back to his seat at the table.

"so...tell me about these gloves you bought me," he grins.

and you start talking about them, explaining every detail about them and why you thought he'd like them. he swears he's never smiled so dopey in his life, talking to you about anything and everything you wanted to talk about. he'd finally fronted and he'll be damned if he doesn't take advantage of every single second he gets with you.

______________________________________________________________

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[mikareo]

⌗ RENAISSANCE ₊ ˖ ་. rin itoshi x fem reader (2.1k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ he's never been one to appreciate art, but you've given him a new set of eyes— the love he feels for you is overwhelming, and he hopes it lasts forever. (bonus for rationalism and romanticism; necessary to read first!)

contains; colorblind!rin, painter!reader, rin’s mom is reader’s art mentor, swearing, immense fluff, kissing, sae and rin actually have a good relationship, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness author's note; bonus ending for rationalism/romanticism!

This is a fancy-ass venue. 

Rin can’t help but feel underdressed for the occasion, despite being clad in a fitted white button up and black tie, whilst his dress-shoes cramp his feet in the worst ways imaginable. He almost looks like that one moviestar in the romantic comedy you love so much. Was it the one with the rich guy in Singapore or the one where they worked in an office and he was a businessman? Rin can’t remember. Whatever, it doesn’t really matter either way. He’s distracting himself too much, he needs to focus— tonight is one of the most important nights of your career. No, it is the most important night for your future career. His mother contacted every big art distributor and critic that she has professional relationships with. It’s your night…and wow did you kill it. 

It’s almost as if you’ve plastered yourself across the walls. Every art piece that his eyes roll over is exceptionally you - your personality, your passions, and your heart - and it’s obvious you’ve spent months curating the most perfect array of paintings a person could muster. 

He can read your story like an open book while he slowly makes his way through the gallery. There are paintings depicting your childhood, ones that remind him of the stories you tell him of your primary school drama and premature interests. That one must be when you broke your arm while learning to ride your bike. You’re particularly stuck on that story— strongly stating how upset you were because it was your dominant arm, halting your ability to paint for seven weeks. Referencing your painting passion, there’s a whole array of canvases dedicated to your love for art; beginning with inspirations of immaturity to skillful selections of texture techniques. Rin is obviously no art critic, but if he were, he’d write a whole expose on how amazing you are. 

With his mind so engaged with your talent, he’s oblivious to the people passing by; so oblivious that he doesn’t even notice his own family approaching. 

“She’s talented isn’t she?” 

Holy shit. The familiar voice of his mother startles Rin, but he instinctively wraps a loose arm around her waist and greets her with a grin. She returns the affectionate expression and it’s painfully obvious that he got his smile from her, and even more painfully obvious that they’re all related when Sae walks up with his teeth beaming. Long lashes and a toothy grin, the physical brand of the Itoshi family; famous in not only football, but good looks!

“Y’know I always knew she had an innate ability.” Miss Itoshi has a faint smile on her face, gazing at her youngest son with nothing but pure happiness. It’s a true display of a mother’s love for her youngest son, and Rin doesn’t know what he’d do without her guidance. She squeezes his side and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. God, he’d be so embarrassed if his teammates saw this. “Though, I always thought she specialized in artwork.”

Hm? Rin sends a puzzled glance in her direction. What is she going on about?

His mom continues, knowing her son well enough that he needs a clear explanation in order to understand anything at all, and presses her hand against his chest. “I didn’t realize she was so skilled at touching hearts.”

His heart is beating faster at the mere thought of your beauty.

There are tears behind Miss Itoshi’s eyes and Rin can feel the waterworks attempting to break his own dam. They’re an emotional duo, him and his mom, Sae gets tired of their antics sometimes— but Rin knows he loves them. Their mom always knows the right thing to say. “I never thought I’d see you like this, Rin.”

Sae smirks, nodding in agreement. “You seem so at ease. It’s cute.”

Reflexively, he pulls them both into a big hug— which is the first hug he’s given Sae since he was nothing but a young boy, six years old and playing soccer for the very first time. Rin finally understands what it means to love and be loved, all because of you; and now he can apply that same love to his older brother, who was his rival for so long. The overwhelming comfort he feels in his family’s arms is the same warmth he felt when he made his first goal and ran into his mother to celebrate his newfound passion. For a long time, Rin believed that it was only possible to have that one singular passion. Oh how wrong he was.

“I get it now.” he says softly into their ears. “She helped me understand.”

“And we’re happy for you,” Sae pats him on the back as hard as he can, eliciting a threatening glare from his younger sibling, to which their mother laughs. 

“Check out the centerpieces down the hall.” Miss Itoshi nudges Rin on, standing beside Sae. “I think you’ll love them, sweetheart.”

With their encouragement, he carries on with the gallery and down the straight hallway of evolving paintings. Every step he takes, seems to carry him into a new era of your life. It’s almost as if he’s time traveling through memories that seemingly morph from abstract to realistic art; and he learns more and more about you with each passing second, ultimately leading towards one large painting in the center of the room. 

Holy shit. You’re breathtaking. 

Never in Rin’s life has his world stopped due to paint on canvas— but right now, it feels like every single brush stroke is a frozen second that he gets to relive again and again, just basking in the presence of your beautiful skill.

The way you’ve outlined your hair with thin lines and highlighted your lovely cheekbones, is nothing short of masterful. If he looks close enough, he can understand the comforting feeling of cupping your face with just his eyes. He didn’t even know you did self-portraits, but now he wishes he could hang this very one right above his couch; to show off the talent of his amazing girlfriend for everyone to see (not that he actually has many friends other than his teammates).

Where are you? He needs to let you know how special it is to be with someone like you—

“Cat got your tongue?”

Speak of the devil.

“Do you like it?” You raise your eyebrows at him expectantly. “What do you think?”

You said the same thing when you first met.

Rin looks between you and the painting, now realizing that no matter how masterful your skill is, it’s impossible to capture just how gorgeous you are in any form of art. You’re simply exquisite. The most talented painter in the world wouldn’t know how to appreciate your beauty. Davinci? No. Botticelli? No. Di Angelo? Not even he could sculpt your features to perfection. However, despite his high standards, Rin believes that your self portrait is the greatest thing he’s ever seen. 

The familiar feeling of flusteredness grows on his cheeks as he holds eye-contact with you, wondering what color it is you’re wearing. He bets it’s red, you always wear red around him. “I love it.”

As your right hand finds his palm, the left reaches up and cups his cheek. With a gentle touch, your lips are on his and Rin feels his head take a spin on the merry-go-round of love. He can’t get enough of you. If he had a choice, he’d spend every waking second of his day peppering you in light kisses on every part of your body— and he’d make sure that you never felt loneliness again. You deserve nothing less than the absolute best, and he’s made it his life’s goal to give that to you.

Slowly, he begins to feel your smile against his lips and you pull away with a lovesick gaze. He pulls you into his chest, cradling your head and kissing it softly before whispering how proud he is, and it’s almost unbelievable how far Rin’s come. Somehow you’ve lured him into a bottomless ravine where the only resource to live is to be hopelessly in love with you— and truthfully, he never wants to escape. You're everything to him.

“You love it?” your eyes are shining brighter than the sun. “You haven’t even seen my best work yet.”

“Oh?’ Rin raises his brows, mocking surprise at your statement. “Well now you have to show me. It’s only fair.”

You place your hands on his chest and peck his lips before spinning him around. He’s confused for a moment, wondering what you’re doing when you could’ve just led him to the canvas instead of guiding him around like it’s a dance class…but then he sees it.

He sees himself.

Never in his life has he completely understood what being in love is. Yes, he's felt love. From his mother, who raised him to be the man he is; caring, thoughtful, and compassionate. From his brother, who helped him understand ambition and sacrifice. From his teammates, who challenge him to be the best he possibly can and to support one another without holding grudges. He's felt different types of love from so many people in his life. Familial. Platonic. Admiration. This is different, though. The love you show him is true love. It's the kind of love that movie stars win awards for portraying. It's the fantasy that kids dream about having when they grow up into big adults. It's the thing he thought was impossible to obtain, but was lucky enough to stumble upon you in that empty art studio on the best day of his life.

He didn't know love could be expressed in this kind of way. Through the very same paint strokes and brush marks that used to make him nauseous with hatred. Seeing your masterpiece, he doesn't understand how he could ever hate something so amazing. Art is spectacular. No. Your art is spectacular. You are spectacular.

"You love it right?" You're trying your best not to giggle at his awestruck reaction. "Want to know the best part?"

Rin can feel himself nodding, desperately reaching for your hand in an attempt to ground himself from the air he's walking on— and you begin to explain. "It's a dual piece. Notice how we're facing each other?"

Oh my god, you are facing each other. He hadn't noticed it before, but he can see clearly now. You've placed him in the dead center of the room, giving him a full view of both of the paintings— opposite of one another on two opposing easels. "Tell me more, baby." His voice is nothing louder than a whisper, only for you to hear.

"I'm painted in black and white."

Oh?

"You're painted in color."

...Oh.

"I wanted to show how love knows no bounds. There's beauty in how you see me and how I see you. It doesn't matter that I'm colorless to you, you still look at me like I'm the prettiest girl in the world; and I only wish you could understand how vibrant your eyes are, Rin. You're the most handsome man I've seen in my entire life."

He loves you.

He loves you so, so much.

A part of his heart feels like he's falling in love with you all over again. It's growing larger and larger, unable to contain the capacity of feelings he holds for you. He's so overwhelmed with joy that tears begin to fight to escape his eyes, ultimately dripping down his cheeks like watercolor on paper, and he sweeps you into the tightest hug known to man.

There's really only one thing left to do. One thing to close this chapter and carry on with the rest of your love story, something that's sacred only between the two of you. Something that he hopes to say to you everyday, every night, every hour, and every minute that he can.

"I love you."

this is the end of this series! every part was such a joy to write and i'm so thankful for all of the feedback i've been given. more fics coming soon love y'all &lt;3

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

[aegomaniac]

I just watched the Shape of Water for the first time. My review and mild spoilers under the cut.

Holy shit. I've never been one to cry over a movie, especially anything that's meant for an adult audience. This, however, had me tears not once, not twice, but three times.

Everyone talks about The Shape of Water like it's just a monster fucker movie, but it's so much more than that. It's for the monsters. It's for the misfits who've found, or are trying to find, each other in a world that simply doesn't give a damn about us. Just look at the human protagonists: a disabled woman, a black woman, and a gay man. All living in 1960s America, a time romanticized by people who've never had to deal with the hatred hurled at these groups.

Elisa's character was easily my favorite. She felt so familiar. She's a hopeless romantic, finds comfort in her routine, and takes the greatest pleasure in something as banal as nice bit of music. Though not physically disabled, I also know what it's like to be misunderstood, even in the most basic terms of communication. Her monologue about rescuing the Amphibian Man in particular stirred something in me. The way she asked, "What does that make me?" was enough to make me misty eyed. Sally Hawkins' performance was enthralling.

Since we're on the topic of performances, Michael Shannon's was the most convincing in my opinion. Strickland is a villain in every sense of the word, one you can despise even on a personal level. He's racist, misogynistic, uses his religion to justify his horrid behavior, and he's the last person I'd want to be alone in a room with. We've all met someone like him and, depending on how "fortunate" you are, you might even be related to one. I think I speak for all of us when I say he got what he deserved in the first end. "Fuck, you are a god," sent a chill down my spine.

As for the mature content. Fuck. First of all, that was one sexy fish man. I didn't expect anything less from Guillermo del Toro, though. He did make me fall in love with Hellboy and Abe Sapien as a kid. He also took a very frank approach to sexuality and love, and didn't shy away from their ugly sides. But that made it all the more beautiful. (By the way, I couldn't stop laughing at Elisa explaining how the Amphibian Man's junk works to Zelda. That was pure, Grade A Comedy Gold™.)

And that ending. The Amphibian Man and Elisa sharing a kiss, floating in their domain, blissfully cut off from a world that reviles them. It gave me butterflies. The whole movie felt like I was child watching Beauty and the Beast all over again. The only difference is it ended the way I always wanted it to.

I could go on, but I think I've rambled enough. So, The Shape of Water, I give it a 10/10 and am disappointed in myself for not watching it sooner.