#BECAUSE ALSO THEN IT'S LIKE. there is so much that is wonderful outside of the 'canon' of well known writers BUT I CAN'T READ IT ALL SO.... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyukascampfire · 1 day ago

Text

𝑯EART 𝑊ORM ⸺ hueningkai ℘˒´ˎ˗

⨾𓍢ִ໋ ˒˒ 𝚑𝔢art𝚠𝔬rm

[𝑛]. a relationship or friendship that you can't get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smoldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire.

⸺ listen to the playlist .ᐟ ‧˚

〝﹙ 📼 ﹚“I was just... wondering,” you say, blood roaring. "Well, Yeonjun wants me to come over to his place this weekend, and... I’ve never...” Sucking in a quick breath, you just spit it out to get it over with, “Would you be my first kiss, Kai?” ˛ ､､

wc ➛ 17.9k

𝔭airings childhood bsf!kai x reader (lowkey soulmates?) ⤷ ft. asshole!yeonjun x reader

𝒢 ‎; smut ˒ angst ˒ some fantasy

𝔴arnings angst, family issues, fingering, jealousy (i’m sorry i just love ts), yeonjun really is an asshole, orgasm denial, thigh fucking, unprotected sex (they're stupid!), strength kink a lil bit, breeding kink, possessiveness, cream pie, choking... i think that's all, lmk if i missed any

✎୭ ashlynn's note omg. this was such a fun palate cleanser to write. this wasn't supposed to be as big as it is, but it just kept getting bigger and bigger, and i got super into the story. this kai is SOOOO!! yeah. i’m so nervous posting this because i’ve only ever posted TSFAWC, but…. here you areee (^^;; this is not proofread, so if you see a mistake... give me a sec. i'll get to it. hehe

Though you fan your hand furiously over your face, the little breezes washing over your clammy skin are not enough. The air is thick and heavy with summer’s heat. So thick that you almost feel it each time you swallow. It’s better than just letting yourself melt away, though. The cushion at your back doesn’t help much. It holds your warmth and returns it to you the longer you sit slumped back into it. You suffer it though—you’ve gone too sluggish to move.

You let a leg dangle over the arm of a chair, watching a hopeful moth dance in the light of the buzzing porch light overhead. It flutters frantically in it, making a grand fight to reach that false moonlight, only to drop away when it realizes that it’s being burnt. You watch it rinse and repeat, relentless and sure, for who knows how long. It’s no special moth—no luna moth or the ones with the pretty pink wings—but the light falls down on it and colors it a pleasant stardust silver.

You delight in letting your conscious brain turn off to watch it. It lets you forget the sweltering under your skin, and also that Kai had drug you out here. His dad gives him shit when he plays inside, but it’s way too hot to be out here. Isn’t it supposed to cool off after the sun goes down? It doesn’t feel like it. The deep acoustics are drowned out each time a car whirrs by. Playing outside should be the best option, but you and Kai live right on a busy road.

When the roar of some car going ten miles over the speed limit doesn’t obscure his playing, though, you admire the intricacy of it. His fingers work up and down the neck, jumping frets that you imagine would be impossible to anybody without those long fingers of his. You had always been a loud supporter of his playing, even way back when the most he could play were simple chords, but you became especially so when a few years back he put a guitar in your hands and tried teaching you. Even with his fingers guiding yours, it was quick to learn that the effortlessness with which Kai handles the instrument is hard earned.

He practices on the acoustic guitar, but that’s not his domain. With houses just a dash across the street from each other, Kai had grown up at your home more than he had at his own. So vividly, you remember the stars in his eyes when he’d listen to your dad’s music. Metallica, The Smashing Pumpkins, Linkin Park, any of it. He had fallen in love with it a long time ago. Your whole life you knew that it was only a matter of time before he was in his own band, chasing his dreams with a boundless mind and an indelible vision of himself on stage. How had that time come so soon, though? You don’t know if the notebooks full of inky lyrics that live wherever he deems inspiration might hit him make you proud or nervous. He’s making good on his dazzling aspirations, and you?

You speak finally into the air, cutting through heat waves and his music and the night. “Isn’t it weird that we’re not going back to school after this summer?”

He doesn’t have to even stop playing to answer you. Playing comes to him as a second nature. “Kinda,” he answers, brown eyes flitting up to you. “But it’s not like you won’t be back to it in September. College is the same shit.”

The leg you’d been dangling and bouncing pauses. That’s right; you’re supposed to be going to that college you’d chosen because it was only a three-hour drive away from here. You pluck at the seat’s threadbare fabric, and the moth, still there, becomes oh-so-interesting once again. When his playing stops, you drop your head back with a cushioned thud and a groan that you wrangle in your throat.

“Why are you acting like that?” he says, voice gone sharp like accusation. He doesn’t even know the truth, but he’s known you too long.

Can’t you just keep secrets for yourself, sometimes?

Kai, arms clad in a well-loved hoodie even in this dreadful weather, lays the guitar down. You maintain your silence. “Seriously, what?”

Some secrets have timers, though. This one could only last you until about September, or even August when he realizes that you’re not preparing to return to school. A controlled sigh from your chest isn’t enough to soothe the nerves that sparks. “Nothing.”

“Secrets, huh?” Kai says. When you do finally look to him, black spikes of hair frame his eyes and the accusation in them.

It’s a simple poke, but it gets under your skin as sharp as any thorn might. It’s not like you don’t keep secrets from him, and you’re sure he keeps some from you too. But those are the little kinds, the inconsequential ones—like I ate already when asked why you’re not eating or like Yeah, I’m fine when it’s been a bad day. You don’t hide this kind of stuff from each other. Usually, you’d run over to his place to tell him whatever’s bothering you. Why not, when he’s known even the worst details of your life for almost the entirety of it? You’ve been holding this one close to your chest since somewhere around the end of senior year, though. The longer you let it fester, the worse your nervousness snowballs. “C’mon, Kai. Let’s not do this. Can you keep playing?”

He doesn’t like that, of course. But you watch recognition dawn over his chocolate brown eyes, helpless to stop it. “You’re not going,” he says. It’s not a question nor a suspicion, it’s a bone-dry fact.

Well. There that goes. You want to tear every hair on your head right out. Why had you even thought you’d keep him in the dark about it? When he’s not out in some garage making music, you two are together. The conversation was going to stroll by at some point; this was only inevitable. His disappointment radiates off him in waves and blisters you. He hasn’t even said anything yet, but you know exactly what he thinks of it. It’s why you kept it from him in the first place.

Your silence is enough confirmation for him. “Why?” he says. “I thought you were excited to move out.”

Wincing, you nod slowly. You were. Even went through the whole application process, along with most other kids your age. Ultimately, you never went through with declaring a college. You don’t exactly know why, but somewhere weaseled down in the shadowy recesses of your soul, you know. Taking those steps, the massive and terrifying ones from adolescence into adulthood, meant agreeing that this form of your life was over. It meant that at some point, you’d be moving away from here to where living your days away in Kai’s room would not be a choice. Everybody has to do it eventually, you know that. Kai’s music gig could take off any day, too. He’s going to make it happen. And then what? All this stalling and wishing on just a bit more time would mean nothing, he’d be off and chasing that dream. As excited as you are for it to finally become reality for him, there’s a nasty bitterness that’s budded in your chest, infecting your person.

Can’t things just stay like this?

“I was,” you say. It comes out of your mouth heavy.

“Then why aren’t you going?” he says. Crickets, never seen but always heard, sing their song into the night’s darkness. “You didn’t get rejected. You’re too smart for that.”

An ache sits heavily somewhere near the center of your chest, maybe over your heart. All those good grades, nights spent bent over a desk and AP paperwork—you’re wasting it. You shake your head. “No... just...” It’s an effort to dress your thoughts in a way that might appease him. A quiet moment stretches with your thinking before you continue, “I don’t know what I want to do.”

He doesn’t like that, the yellow wash of the overhead light dancing over his taut lips and hard eyes. “Don’t know what you want to do?” he says, bringing his legs up onto the seat to crisscross them. He wears his favorite jeans. They’re heel-bitten and baggy enough over his legs that he can wear them around the house without any bother. “You’ve wanted to be an artist your whole life. You know exactly what you want to do.”

Your chest only seems to ache harder. When the both of you were only young and hopeful, you both had big dreams. Kai was going to be the face of a metal band, and you were going to be an artist. A painter, potter, sculptor, even doing animation for those big companies like Dreamworks and Disney. You wanted any of it, just as long as you were doing art. You’d even promised him that you’d do the cover art for his albums with interlocked pinkies and flushed, hopeful cheeks. That passion and love wasn’t gone from you, it blazed strong in your veins. This blaze wasn’t the kind that kept you warm and excited to push forward into life, though. It had morphed into something that scalded you when you got too close or started imagining yourself pursuing its call. It’s a taunting silvery glow, no longer a guiding north star. Taunting words of family members stamped down on that hope hard. When you were little, it was said lighthearted and in passing. The older you got, though, the more serious their faces became. They wouldn’t say it outright perhaps, but you hear what they think well enough. Art is a dead-end career.

Shifting in your seat, you tell him, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” Kai says. “There are good colleges for that.”

“I just... don’t know.”

Shaking his head, he tells you, “But you love it.”

You do. In its every form, you love creating. But loving it doesn’t mean that it’s right for you, or that you should trust your future in its hands. “I think I can do it in my own time,” you say, finally pushing yourself upright from the cushion. “Don’t wanna kill the passion by doing it for a living, you know?”

He thinks on that for a moment. “If you love it, you should do it,” he says.

An awful frustration bubbles in your chest. Kai has always had a clear life path, the steps ahead of him set in stone and waiting for him to follow in them. It’s hard for him to see why you might not want to do the same. There’s nothing that makes you as happy as the fact that he has it all figured out, that he knows just where he’s going and that he’s so incredible at it that he doesn’t have to worry about meeting the requirements, but your path seems obscured and untrodden. Punctuating a deep, resonant sigh, you say, “It’s not that easy, Kai.”

“If you’re not doing that, then what are you going to do? Are you just going to settle for a nine-to-five?” he says full of accusation, the tapping on his knees gone still.

A dry laugh, you say, “Maybe I’ll marry a super rich guy and just do my art for a living. No nine-to-five.”

His face flashes. He’d always been a bit reserved, especially around others, but he bared his emotions freely around you. You hold them dearly to your chest and made sure to do your best to make good on that trust. He says, “You’re more than some guy’s housewife.”

Cheeks radiating in the heat, you snort. “I know, dork. I’m a rockstar’s best friend. It’s my personal favorite achievement.”

His face sours when you reach out and pinch hard at his cheek, but he doesn’t pull away or brush you off. The skin there is warmed and clammy. Really, the two of you should go meet the cool AC inside before you suffer heat stroke. But this moment feels so nice—your shoulders feel tons lighter without something to hide. If you had it your way, things would stay like this forever. Just the two of you, sat here like you have so many times before, just taking for granted the time you’ve got together.

His mouth opens to banter, probably something about how he’s not a rockstar yet or to get you back for calling him a dork. Wingbeat and sterling dashes about your face send the image into a blur, though. You’re a quick mess of limbs and a whipping head, as if it’ll chase the thing away from you.

“Seriously?” Kai says. You’d climbed halfway over him, elbows digging into him and knee doing a number on his thigh. “It’s a moth. You’re not scared of moths.”

Lingering for a few moments later to ensure the flying thing was nowhere on you or around you, you hold back a laugh before you climb off him and fix your hair with undignified tucks behind your ears. “He was in my face,” you say around a laugh, because you know it was a bit too much. Nobody likes wings in their ears and spindly legs in their face, though, and you’re in no control of what you do when anything with six legs tries and get too friendly. Even moths.

“You just wanted me to protect you,” he says. A sarcastic, shit-eating smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh,” you scoff, batting your eyelashes and clasping your hands together all saccharine-sweet. “Yes, Romeo, won’t you kill that bug for me? This girl’s heart just can’t take it!”

Kai’s nose crinkles, and the playful light twists into a glare. “Nasty.”

“That’s how you sounded,” you say. “I only reacted accordingly.” Laughing, you kick your legs out over his lap and sprawl back out. He takes the guitar back into his hands.

As much as you want to escape the mugginess, you’ll survive it for just a little while longer—if only with the force of an indulgent heart. The eternal moments are those you allow to linger.

⚝⭒

Some things, you forget when you’re older. Maybe it’s time’s hand, eroding memories down and stuffing more in the longer you live to experience them. But also maybe because they’re the sort of things you can’t say in the adult world without a laugh in the face and a look from down their noses.

This memory is one of those forgotten things. It’s moth-bitten and dusty, something you one day folded up in a moving box and decided to never revisit.

You’d been down at the creek. Kai and you had spent so many summer days there. It wasn’t too far from home, just past the filbert trees and into the shallow neck of the backwoods, but there you were out of sight and free to get up to nothing good. It was a wonder your mom ever let you do it. Kai’s dad didn’t care too much where he went or what he did, but your mom dug her claws in deep. You like to think that she imagined you two would have each other, if anything ever happened.

Usually, you’d be there holding your jeans up from the stream and Kai would be letting his jeans go dark with it. The bite of water was nice as it washed over warm skin. Fun was a simple thing to find, then. You dug your fingers into the mudbanks and tossed stones way too big to be throwing at each other, just because you two remembered how much the adults hated it when you did. Then, you’d drag tired limbs home avoiding sweetgum tree spikes that had fallen to the ground and dug splinters out from your feet.

This day, you had been in the blackberry bushes. It was maybe late July or early August, and they’d gotten heavy on their branches. You’d waited until the smell of them, summer-warmed, was sweet and cloying in the air to pick them. With buckets in your hands, you plucked only the fattest berries from their bunches. Your fingers were stained a delightful purple and perhaps a bit thorn raw, but you didn’t mind much then. You plucked for hours, and it was dusk before you could catch it. Dinner was no doubt waiting for you back home.

“There’s a bunch over here,” Kai had said. He reached a long boyish arm, still awkward and lanky with puberty, up high for ripe bush. You finished off picking before climbing around thick branches sticking out to take a peek. A bunch, there was.

When you went to drop a handful of them into your bucket, Kai hissed. He’d been snagged by a vicious looking branch, those ones as thick as a finger with thorns to match and you’d warn each other tongue-in-cheek to watch out for that one. He’d worn those ridiculous shorts that day, the ones that looked half pants half shorts with how long and baggy they were, and the claws of the bush had jumped at the opportunity. At first the scrapes were white, but then red blood crawled out and down his leg.

“Kai,” you said, some parts chiding and some parts just wondering how he’d managed that. You surveyed his leg for a bit, and then determined that he should wash his leg off in the stream. He walked there strong, but of course you noticed the hobble beneath his acting. When you squatted down into the dry grass and cupped water to wash off his leg, you laughed.

“What?” he had said, holding the shorts up. You covered your laugh with a hand, but it erupted past your palm. You remember the glare on his face very well.

You still laughed. “You’re stupid,” you had told him.

“I didn’t see it,” he said. “I tripped over it because it was sticking out.”

That time when you brought your hands to catch some water, there was a twinkle in its surface. You didn’t notice it for a second. The creek moved fast and you could see a lot of things in its reflection. When it lingered, that’s when your brows furrowed. It seemed to twirl, dancing around like alive over the stones.

The sound of Kai’s voice remains with you. “Hey,” he had said, strong to call your attention but also wavered with uncertainty.

When you looked up, there was silver dust dancing around you.

It was fluffy and whorling, fine silver stardust. It’d moved weightless in the air, as though it barely existed. In the center of it were a few moths. They seemed to be made of sterling powder just as the dust was, and they glowed against dusk’s backdrop. If your memory serves you right, there had been a sweet hymn of coos from them. They beckoned you. Summer’s heat felt lighter, and so did your chest. You wondered where they had wanted you to go.

Almost afraid that if you spoke they might have fluttered away, you whispered soft and low to Kai. “What is that?” He was stood frozen there, pant leg still scrunched up in his fist. Stardust glowed soft in his brown eyes while he took it all in, you remember. It wasn’t a scared frozen. You weren’t scared, either—rather, it was as if that lightness had found its way into the core of your being and brushed over it with mending hands.

He whispered back, “I don’t know.” How could he have known? It was absurd.

Those whisps had beckoned you, flowing toward the deeper woods. The soft moths, their murmuring brushing up against your ears, seemed to wait for you to follow. You remember a pull, soft tendrils wrapping themselves around your heart and the yearning it planted there.

But there was also this reluctance, a bone-deep answering that had told you: No. You’re not ready.

“Kai, I wanna go,” you told him.

You didn’t even need to tell him twice. Berry buckets forgotten; the journey home was a stranger one. When your dad asked why you returned from berry picking emptier handed than you had left the house, Kai and you only shared a look. You pair kept that evening at the creek hidden so well that it became more forgotten than shared secret.

⚝⭒

Once, you had been the type of girl that loved being around family. Some of your favorite days of your life were spent in this living room, T.V. roaring over bouncing conversation. Some of those nights ended in rosy cheeks and laughs, and some ended with words thrown angry like fireworks. You never knew which you’d be getting, but you endured the fear of not knowing because it was a simple love—the basic kind built with biology into you the moment your infant skin touched your mother’s. You endured it because eventually, sleep washed away the bad taste left in your mouth and you forgave them quick, sometimes quicker than you ought to, and things would go on as if it hadn’t even happened. You endured it because you could handle its burden, if only to feel the warmth you feel when it’s a good day.

Kai was always there—his dad was hardly home, so he found family in yours. When you were younger, you’d been embarrassed he was there for caustic, spitted words and intimate fights. Now, you’re just grateful for his shoulder.

So, yes. Once, you had loved being around your family. But things feel tenser now, nights spent all together less frequent and when they do happen, they’re tainted by a strange air. You think that this strangeness is new, but an awful worry also makes you think that it’d always been there, that you only feel it now because you’ve grown into your adult mind. A hollow ache stakes its claim in your chest, declaring that it won’t leave until you find that youthful ignorance and joy once more. You think that it might stay there forever.

Bare feet bounding down the stairs, you make a rare appearance downstairs. The cupboard is only half open to make way for a snack raid before your mom’s voice cuts through the air. You know quickly just by the look on her face that you should’ve stayed upstairs.

“Hey,” she says, gathering laundry into a basket. “You’ve been applying to jobs?”

With an anxious belly, you tell her, “Yeah. A few. They’re not really, like, ideal, but I sent applications.” You don’t remember when it got hard to look into your mother’s eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to do so now.

“Not ideal?” she says. “It’s not like you can be picky. Mcdonalds or wherever, I don’t care, you’re going to need to get a job if you’re staying here.”

“I know. I applied,” you reiterate around a mumble. You close the cabinets, not so interested in a snack anymore. “I just... I don’t know, ma. I don’t want to do that for a living, going between those sorts of jobs.”

Face hard and abrasive against the truth you bare, she does that awful taunting smile that makes you feel small. Stupid. “You’re not going to college, so that’s what it’s gonna be. You can’t sit up there and draw for a living. You’ve gotta get into the real world, get some real experience.”

There’s a burst of hurt in your chest, dazzling and gnawing. She’s getting closer to saying how she really feels about your dreams out loud every day. Your face burns and so do your eyes, knot thick in your throat. “Yeah, okay. Got it,” you say, nodding. You’re at the front door before you even know it, slipping on shoes and fighting the greatest internal battle to will back tears. She’d use those against you, no doubt about it. “I’m going to Kai’s,” you throw over your shoulder.

Whatever she barks back at you, you’re glad you don’t hear. Bells on some old Christmas decoration hung on the door that had yet to be taken down, even into summer, jingle and wash it away for you.

Kai’s brows shoot up when he opens the door to your face crumpling. You’d done so well at damming it up, but the wall cracks and the water crashes through once you see him. If it were anybody else, you’d feel icky and attention seeking, but you’d held Kai to your chest through gut-wrenching sobs as much as he’s done it for you. Without question, he takes you into his arms, warm hand running up and down your back. The warm soothing is so familiar. You melt right into it.

He keeps you there for a long moment. Then, his chest rumbles as he tells you, “Come on.” The walk through the AC to his bedroom is nice. Having a house like Kai’s to come to where it can just be you is nice, too. You step around the mess of clothes and scattered belongings on his floor like you have a muscle-memory roadmap of his room. Boxsprings creak and hard mattress welcome you back home. His room is dark as always, a night-dweller you call him. The array of peeling band posters plastered over walls you two had painted blue some years ago, when it’d been his favorite color, don’t help to lighten it up. He keeps a low lamplight on.

“She never listens to me,” you say, crying gone to occasional sniffles from your chest. You rest your cheek on your bent knee.

“I know,” he says. “But at least she cares about you. Pays attention to you.” His voice is soft and deep and right next to you. Always right next to you, there for you even when you might not appreciate it as you should.

His dad cares too little what he does, and yours care too much. The grass is always greener on the other side, you know it. Still, you hold a fantasy where you’re able to do teenager stuff. Where you’d allow yourself to do bad things, because you weren’t so intent on painting yourself with their will. You two hold eyes for a long moment, your twinkling ones caught in that steady brown. “I just want to get away. Be my own person.” Your words are muffled in the softness of your skin.

“You had the chance to do it,” Kai says, hand playing with your fingers. “But you didn’t.”

Holding your legs closer, you lick your lips. What do you say to that? Would it ever be the time to tell him that you did it because you think that your soul is pathetically intertwined with his, and that it might snuff your lifeforce out to even try pursuing life without him? Without this? How do you tell him that you’re so frozen and unwilling to pursue any sort of future because it means accepting that this chapter is over? You clutch childhood to your chest like a wild animal guarding scarce food; you refuse. You refuse to acknowledge its end.

“Kai,” is all you say, trembled and thick. It’s not just your mother’s words that dig at you and tear to shreds the last bits of what dreaming you had left in you, but so many other reality checks too. This isn’t the first time you’ve heard those sorts of words, urging you forward. You can only dig your heel into the ground for so long before you’re swept away in time’s ruthless, endless moving.

He understands. Lifting your face with warm fingers against your cheeks, he says, “Hey. How about we go get ice cream, or something?”

Ice cream does sound nice. “Dairy Queen?”

Smirk tugged over his mouth, he says, “Yes, Dairy Queen. A blizzard. C’mon, let’s go.” Sliding off the bed, he offers you an urging hand up.

But you falter. “I don’t know if we can. She’s mad at me. I don’t think she’ll let me go.”

“Let you go?” he says, eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t have to let you go. You’re an adult now, you go if you want to.” He offers his hand to you again.

It’s so him, freely going wherever he ordain it. The bullheadedness is very him, as well. Always the devil on your shoulder, he was the root of any rebellious thing you’ve ever done. He could never understand your apprehension, or why getting in trouble was such an awful thing to you. “I have to ask to get money.”

Brows pinching, he says, “You think I’m not gonna pay for you? You don’t need them to give you money, I’ll pay. I’ll take care of it.” He drags you up from the bed this time. “Live a little. Do you want to go?”

It was never the punishments or the getting in trouble that you were scared of, though. Disappointment was a scarier word than grounded. Sneaking out and those sorts of things, it’s not like you had angel wings at your back and never considered them. It’s that you are deeply, utterly terrified of changing how they look at you. You begin to tell him, “I do, but—”

He cuts you off, adamant. “Then do it. Let’s go. If you want to go, then go,” he says. “At some point, your life needs to become your own. It’s not sneaking out when you’re graduated and eighteen years old, it’s going wherever the hell you want. You’ve... You’re gonna end up stuck here, in this town, forever. You don’t deserve that.”

That sounds like both the best and the worst thing you’ve ever heard. You take his hand.

⚝⭒

Your frozen fingers nurse your ice cream. The cup itself is cold, but the Dairy Queen on your side of town is always thirty degrees below what it should be. It’d always been that way. Even way back when you two couldn’t drive, you’d get dropped off here to escape the melting weather and get a frozen treat with a handful of dollars. Each time, you’d start off sagging with the relief of summer’s weight off your shoulders and left the place shivering and sugar-mouthed.

It’s really only you two in here. You crinkle your nose when he takes a spoonful. “Out of all the flavors...”

Unbothered and no doubt expecting you to say it, he offers you a flat, “You get your flavor, I get mine.” He makes a point of taking an extra-long bite. His lips linger around the red plastic of the spoon and his brows rest high in silent challenge.

The corners of your lips twitch up. “Hmm. Well. I just have a hard time believing that Oreo... or, like, brownie fudge, is right there, and you actually want M&M. I don’t get how M&M your favorite.” A familiar banter falls over your tongues. Your heart buzzes and your cheeks radiate. This is the first you’ve done this all summer, and it’ll be weaning off into fall soon. Any other summer, you would’ve been here on all the hottest days. You hate that Kai’s been so busy with his music; you hate that you can hear the resounding ticks of the clock counting down your time. You also hate that the stubborn depths of you still believe that if you freeze yourself here in stasis that the world will relent and stop along with you.

You look over the sharp lines of Kai’s jawline as it feathers with his chewing, and the broadness of his shoulders where his jacket stretches around it, and the starkness of his collarbones against his chest and the bobbing of his adam’s apple when he swallows. No, time doesn’t stop. Some of him remains the same, though. In it, you see the boy that had love creeping up on you so long ago, with all its aching and all its hope. That freckle on the column of his neck, the bump in his nose leading down to the button tip that beckons your lips to steal a quick kiss.

And, those lips. They’re as soft as ever around the discontented grimace he pulls. “M&M isn’t my favorite.”

With a pursed mouth and patronizing brows arched over your eyes, you say, “Oh, huh. That’s funny, because if my memory serves me right, it’s the only flavor you’ve ordered for the past... six years.”

Kai husks a laugh at that. “That’s because they haven’t had my favorite for years,” he tells you, scooping up the final bit and then pushing it off to the side. “It was a blizzard of the month that they discontinued. The blackberry cheesecake one. I made peace with it, though. It lives on in my heart.” He grins, arms crossed over his chest and his back settled into the booth seat to let you finish your cup.

“Blackberry cheesecake,” you say, voice made taunting. Your nod is slow and taunting, too. “Well, forget M&Ms.Why would blackberry cheesecake be your favorite? Ever?”

His face falters, a moment where something flows over his eyes as if reliving a memory in a few short seconds. Then, he shrugs. “It just is.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever,” you laugh. “Maybe my palate is unrefined.” Imagining the tarte fruit in purple swirls of ice cream, you’re taken back to a humid July day and the scent of churned mud.

The strange memory unfolds itself quick. As if it were waiting for you to find wherever it’d hidden itself away. With a sharp gasp, you say, “Oh my god, Kai. Do you remember that one day? That weird stuff we saw down at the creek?”

He nods. “Yeah. I was just thinking of that the other day, actually...”

Less interested in finishing your cup now, you let the spoon rest. “What?” you say, the word peaking in the middle. That day hadn’t crossed your mind once since it’d happened. “How weird is that?”

Scoffing a laugh, he says, “Weird, yeah. Just as strange as two kids high on fermented berries.”

That draws a breathy laugh from you. “Is that what you think it was?” you ask him with knitted brows. The berries had been fresh, and you two had popped plenty into your mouth. But no doubt, you’d have spat them right back out if they were that ripe. “I mean, we saw the same thing.”

“It happens to animals all the time. Squirrells, and stuff.” He lends you a gallic shrug. “We just freaked ourselves out. Like that one time you said you saw the shape of something in the dark and we freaked out. And it was clothes.”

Well, hallucinating, in tandem, a glowing mist because you two by chance ate fermented berries is a very long shot. However nonchalant he acts about it, he seems to have thought long and hard about it. Enough to reason it away with some far cry explanation. Would you have even been able to get drunk off a handful of fermented berries? And, god, you’re really sure that you’d have noticed. That taste isn’t really one you just don’t notice.

Whatever. Maybe you were just drunk idiots. That’s a lot easier to swallow, anyway.

“Okay, but you saw that. Did it not look sinister?” you say. With your spoon back in your hand, you punctuate the sentence pointing it at him. “You freaked out with me, too.”

An unsatisfied scowl on his lips, he steals a spoonful of your dessert. You don’t even swat him away—your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Catching sight of who’s calling, you share a long look with Kai. It’s funny, how fast those three white letters scramble you up. When you hesitate to answer, Kai tells you, “Answer.”

You hope she can’t tell you’re not at Kai’s by the refrigerators’ dull buzzing. It’s an effort to tussle that invasive worry back. You’re at Dairy Queen. Getting ice cream with the boy she’s known since childhood. She should clutch her hands and thank the sky that you’re here, not out in some nasty frat house like you could be. You thumb the green button.

Her voice comes through the speaker crackled and asking you to run over to do a quick dish load. For a heartbeat you consider telling her that you will and then start rushing home. Instead, you fork out the truth through resistant lips.

The hangup tone sits heavy on the air between you and Kai. Having listened to the whole thing on speaker, he says, “What was so hard about that? The world didn’t end, did it?”

The plush of your lip takes a hard gnawing. No, it hadn’t. “I know she’s not going to get mad at me for just going here,” you say as you rest your elbows onto the table. “It’s that they’re supporting me right now. I still live under their roof. The more I go around and insist I can do whatever I want, they’ll start reminding me of it.”

His face drawn, he lets his mouth twitch to one side. “Yeah,” he muses. “I never thought yours would be the type to kick you out.”

Kai’s dad had started threating him with getting kicked out years ago, when he first started telling him that he wanted to do music. How many times had he let reluctant tears flow into your shoulder over it? Because music wasn’t a real job? Back then, you’d whispered in his ears that he’d become everything he’d dreamed of and more as your fingers carded through shaggy locks of hair.

“I don’t know,” you say, humming it out noncommittally. “Is your dad still... y’know?”

Nodding slowly, his eyes tell. “Yeah. Always.”

“Because you’re taking the band seriously, now?” you ask.

“Probably. I don’t give a shit what he thinks about it. If I’m just his goddamn problem, I’ll give him what he wants soon enough.” His eyes blaze with promise of it.

It takes a bit out of you to not wince. Kai living anywhere but in the house across from yours is wrong. “I don’t think he necessarily wants that, Kai...” You take his hand in your icy ones, the urge to reach out to him thinly veiled under the guise of searching out warmth. He’d always run warmer than you—your personal heater. “It’s probably because he can see that you’re doing it for real. Not just saying it anymore.”

“Yeah, well,” he spits, “I can’t fucking wait to see what he’ll say to me when I make it. That piece of shit, though, he wouldn’t even care. It’s not like he ever gave a shit about me enough for it to matter.”

But, it matters to you, you want to tell him. You understand his need to throw it all in his face. Though. “Is that one label going to sign you? The one you were talking about?”

His tongue darts out to wet dry lips. “They haven’t yet. I don’t know. But I don’t need that money to get out of here, I’ve been working on it.”

“They will,” you say. “But, where would you go? Not too far?” You try and keep it light and playful, even as your heart aches.

“Come with me,” he says. It’s painfully blunt, as if it were that simple. “Let’s go get and apartment; you and me.”

“Kai...” you say. “You don’t have to drag me along because you feel bad.”

The idea doesn’t sound half bad, though.

“What?” His face tightens, as if somewhere under the surface your words had scraped somewhere tender. “You don’t have to stay here forever. Please. I want... I want you to come with me. You wouldn’t have to even tell them; just bring all your stuff and go together. We could do it together. Like we said we would.”

“We were like, five. Everybody tries to pretend running away at five,” you deadpan. It’s a washy attempt at lightening things back up.

Living with him, moving out together, should feel like everything you’ve ever wanted. And, maybe it is. But, he’s not asking you to live with him the way you want him to. Not in the way that your aching heart wishes he would.

Kai doesn’t share the laugh you give him. “Yeah, okay,” he says, leaning into the table.

Perhaps you should consider the potent disappointment he’s terribly masking with a face of indifference, though.

⚝⭒

Slowly, the knots in your belly have worked themselves out. When Kai had dropped you off, they’d been so awful that you felt borderline sick. You sat the whole ride there in his old beat-up truck picking at your nails and rambling to him. He listened to you the whole time. And then when it was time to walk in, it had least felt a little easier to do so with his eyes on you, watching to make sure you made it in safely.

You’d gotten a job. It’s not too bad, folding clothes out on display. It would be nice if they kept the lights a bit brighter, but you’ll get used it eventually, you hope.

Most of your coworkers are around your age, but the one showing you the ropes... your heart had fluttered.

“You’ll get it,” Yeonjun says. The smile you find on his lips once he straightens up from placing product on a display is smooth and smug. Sleek strands of black hair fall over his eyes. You fluster under his gaze.

With arms crossed over your chest you say, “Yeah, probably.” You reach into the cardboard box for stock to practice on.

“Where’d you work before this?” he asks, leaning back into a wall to watch you. Suddenly, you make sloppier work of your folding. “Your first retail job?”

Some obnoxious pop song falls down from the speakers over the store. Nobody’s in here yet, thankfully; you’ve got some time to try and get a handle on everything. “No, this is my first job. I was so nervous walking in.”

Interest catches in his eyes. It encourages that smooth smile on his lips further. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll show you the reins.”

Your mind stalls. The suggestive, sly flicker to it—are you looking too much into it? Maybe that’s just how guys like Yeonjun act. It’s hard to pretend that you don’t see how he’s looking at you, though. It has your belly twisted up in fluttery knots. It’s not like you hadn’t had your share of his type. But, for some reason you’d rather not address, he’s got your heart thumping in your chest.

He laughs at your fifth attempt to fold up the shirt. When he takes it from you to help, he smells of musk and vetiver. “You going to college near here?” he continues.

“Nah, just doing this, I guess,” you answer, watching him fold it up to try and soak it up.

“Really? Why not?” he hums, crossing his arms about his chest. “You seem like a smart girl.”

Buffering, your blood buzzes in your veins and your cheeks burn. “Dunno. Not really sure what to do. Are you in college?”

“Nah. I’m trying to figure things out, too.”

The both of you pop your heads up when the bell rings to announce the arrival of a customer.

“Yeah,” you say, eyeing him. He’s a few years older than you, no doubt, and yet his life hasn’t fallen apart because he’s not done anything grand yet.

Time’s hand around your neck loosens. Just a little bit.

⚝⭒

You sit crisscrossed on top of Kai’s bedsheets. He’d thrown the windows open because the AC died, but it’s no help. The hot air wafting about the room sits heavy on your skin. You’d dressed in as little material as possible to let it breathe, bare thighs clad in a pair of loose shorts and a thin tank top, but it’s still miserable.

Perhaps you two should be going over to yours, but you haven’t had time alone with him for a few weeks now. You hate this busier life, where you struggle to make room for this.

Your new job isn’t so awful, though. Especially with Yeonjun there. A bout of nerves flows up through your stomach. That reminds you.

Sitting up a bit straighter, you consider not doing it. In fact, you really shouldn’t. But your mouth moves before you can put a stopper on it.

“Hey, Kai,” you say. The thickness in your throat makes you believe that your heart’s jumped up into it, caught. God, what are you doing? The unsure waver in your words has you regretting.

His eyes flicker up to yours. He hums out a, “Huh?”

No, this is wrong. You mess with the thin cotton strap of your tank top where it’d slipped down. “Never mind,” you tell him, trying to shrug it off.

That piques his interest. “No, what?” His brow pinches.

You lick your lips and shake your head. “Nothing, never mind. Really.”

His eyes search you from where he sits up against the wall. “Tell me,” he demands.

Really, you shouldn’t have said it in the first place. It was a ridiculous idea. But now you know he’s not going to let it go. And, ridiculously, you say it. “I was just... wondering,” you say, blood roaring. "Well, Yeonjun wants me to come over to his place this weekend, and... I’ve never...” Sucking in a quick breath, you just spit it out to get it over with, “Would you be my first kiss, Kai?”

Insects buzz outside as he looks at you, frozen in spot. You reject the urge to dart away or throw up. You’re honestly just as shaken as him. But really, who else could you trust with something like that? You don’t want Yeonjun to be disappointed if he kisses you, or to seem inexperienced to him.

And, perhaps, the hopelessly in love part of you hopes to at least feel his lips on yours at least once. If you’re going to be alone forever in your longing, you just wish that you can have this.

“What?” Kai says. He looks rattled.

Of course, he’s shocked. You shift. “Forget I said that,” you tell him, unable to meet his gaze.

String-roughened fingers wrap around your upper arm. “I didn’t say anything,” he says, voice strained and face less shock-fallen and more darkened. “But... I mean, you want me to teach you to kiss for some other guy.” He spits out the last bit as if bitter in his mouth.

“You don’t have to do it,” you say. “I just... thought that I might ask you to do it. I don’t know, I’m sorry I said it. I’ll just wing it or something.” His room’s grown ten degrees hotter, if that was possible. Especially where you feel his eyes on your face.

Almost imperceptibly, his hand tightens around you. He swallows hard. “You want to learn how to kiss?” he says. “Fine. I’ll teach you.”

In a heart-stopping moment, your eyes snap to his. Brown and familiar, they hold you with an intensity that turns your limbs into jelly. The air is stifling. “What... do I do?” you ask when the silence becomes too heavy.

A muscle feathers in his jaw, reflected in the low light of his room. It’s quick and so easy to miss, but it tells you everything you need to know about how this is making him feel. How much disbelief he’s in. “Come here,” he says, stilted around the absolute absurdity of it. He pats on his lap.

You make a hesitant crawl across the bed toward him. It seems as though your elbows might buckle beneath your weight, but you make it despite the odds. A fog settles over your brain when you rest your hands on his shoulders and bring your legs to straddle his lap.

But you shove it back; you want to live and breathe every last second of this. No matter how unbelievable or blistering it is.

Breaths fan out over your face. It’s seizing your mind like undiluted liquor. “Where do I put my hands?” you ask him. It’s breathless, the air stolen right from your lungs though your mouths haven’t even touched.

“There is fine,” he says. His words sound breathless, too. The weight of his touch on you as he runs his own up to support your back is unsure. “And then...” he says. It falls out on your mouth slowly, and then he’s taking your lips onto his.

The walls melt away, sound does too. All that is real is the taste of his lips and how they move against you. Your lips start tentative, but you try his mouth movements yourself. It feels like a timid dance—it feels like deep, deep down, finally everything is right. That mist, thick and blinding, falls back over you.

Something changes. Something in it, where you two meet, changes. He becomes hungry. Softly locked lips turn biting and nipping, shaky breaths exhaled slow through your nose. His hands on your back become surer, and one even ventures off to grab your chin. The other holds you to his chest, melded together despite the intense smoke and flame rolling off your bodies. You wonder if he can feel your heart beating a mess there.

Reluctance paints you both when you pull back. You’re panting deep drinks of air. It’s hard to think; your mind’s run off and sits just out of reach. Licking your messy lips, stained with illicitness, you can only manage to brush your fingers against it to form words. “How... was that?” you say, searching his eyes. You find his pupils blown so wide that they consume the warm brown. You’re ready to jump out of your skin with that look pointed at you.

Kai doesn’t answer, though. He slams your mouths back together as if starved by just the brief moment you’d parted for air. Nips on your bottom lip and emboldened hands—he moves like roaring water through a dam. A dam that he’d worked hard to fortify, and yet, at a crack it’s all falling down. Fingertips digging through the fabric of your shorts down to your soft hips, his chest rumbles. You feel it reflected in your core, electricity charging there and shooting up your spine and down your thighs.

You kiss him for all the times you wish you would’ve, but didn’t. The slight rolls of your hips down onto him come easy. You love how it has him making a sound into your mouth and taking the fat beneath his fingers harder into his hands. He helps you.

He drops his head into your neck. Your head swims for air and he has you shuddering with just the brushing of his nose against the column of your neck. The walls of his room spin around you. “Kai,” you whine, every bit of friction his jeans provide, even clothed as you are, just enough to rile you but not to give you what you need.

“God,” he growls, thumbs hooking under your waistband. “You always fucking run around dressed in nothing,” he says, letting his fingers linger like a suggestion of undressing you. “Did you do it on purpose? Expect to make me crazy, knowing I couldn’t touch you?”

And, in those words, it seems that he steals every last bit of breath from you. How often had you gone braless or worn something like this around him? Laid here, in his bed, like that?

Grown tired of your fruitless grinding, he brings a hand down to support your lower back and says, “Turn around.”

Though you explode with the prospect of what he might be intending to do or what’s next, if you’re really going to do this, you do so in a flash of eager limbs. His chest is solid against your back, you melt against the feeling of it. He’d become such a man lately, filled out, and you watched it happen. It was hard for your eyes not to catch on muscle-corded forearms while he picked at strings or to not appreciate the timbred rumble of his voice when you’d feel it come from his chest. How could it not do things to you? Now, he’s dragging your shorts down your legs and you’re in disbelief.

“Fuck,” he breaths out. His fingers find your panties soaked through. “So, you’re the type to get dripping wet.”

An embarrassed blush decorates your cheeks. Kai drags his index finger in circles around your clit through the fabric as if enamored with how much of a mess you’d made of it. Your hips twitch every time he rolls right over it. It’s strange how he’s got your body acting on its own volition with his touches. Even stranger that it’s your best friend doing it. “Sorry,” you tell him, wavering.

He continues those terribly slow circles. “Sorry?” he says, chin on your shoulder. He’s got you wrapped up in him, with nowhere to go but to melt back into him and let his fingers work. Free hand on one of your inner thighs digging divots into the plushness there to hold it still, he tells you, “It’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s hot as fuck. You’re so excited for me to touch you, huh?”

The words wreak havoc on you, feeding the flame that has your belly twisted up tight and the ignition point between your thighs pounding. To hear them coming from him, reserved Kai, has you digging your fingers into his forearm to prove that it’s real. You’d never have imagined him being so... filthy. You imagine him behind falsely nonchalant eyes, devouring you with a perverted mind all the times you’d spent innocently sitting together in this room.

Your cheeks squish beneath his fingers as he takes your face and turns it to him. He wants to make sure you’re look at him as he asks you, “Do you want me to finger you?”

Like a record, your brain skips. Between the blunt, lewd question and his hand on you, it’s in overload. How could ask something like that so simply? Stunned as you are, of course you want him to. You want him to do anything to you. You nod.

Every last nerve and neuron in your system, just below the skin, cry out when his fingers slow down to nothing. “Hmm?” he says, ignoring the chasing of your hips and the opening of your thighs to invite him into paying your poor pussy the attention he’d ripped from it. He wants to hear you say it.

About ten minutes ago, you lost your mind. It does not return to you now. “I want you to,” you say, chest beating in tandem with your cunt.

“You want me to, right? Not some dumbass you met a week ago, huh?” he says. “Because you know that this is what it’s meant to be. Me, doing these things to you. Not some twenty-five-year-old piece of shit. He doesn’t deserve you, baby. Understand?”

His fingers slider under your panties. Dumb brained and cognition gone muddled, you nod. All you can really think about is the moment his fingers slide over you. Fire licks up your lower belly and your insides as he brushes calloused finger tips finally right against your clit.

Puffed breaths of a scoff raise goosebumps over your skin. “Teach you to kiss so that you can go over there and get his hands on you,” he says, middle two fingertips prodding at your entrance. “As if you were ever anybody’s but mine. You’d come crawling back to me, baby, because it was always meant to be us. He could never satisfy you.”

His words might alarm you or have you asking questions if he hadn’t pushed his fingers into you and begun curling them with strong, pointed presses, pulling soft mewls and hums from you until he finds a spot that twists up your insides. Even through the palm you press over your mouth, your moans come out more like wavering grunts and croaks. Your thighs quiver and twitch, threatening to snap closed against your own will with each. Only your feet stay planted to the mattress. Like a cone of soft serve under the sun’s blistering attention, you melt down him. Just his frame keeps you upright.

“Right there, huh?” he says. The smirk on his mouth filters his words into something taunting. “That’s where you like it.” It’s like he’s learning your body step by step, fulfilling all the questions he’d been forced to only guess at before this.

“Uh-huh.” It comes out whiny and cracks in the middle, but you can’t find even an ounce of you to care right now. If this moment had been a long spiral, a fall from grace, down into a dark pit of forgotten inhibitions, you’ve just hit the bottom. Cheeks blazing cherry blossom pink and with your fingers curling into his pant leg, you don’t doubt that you are a picturesque mess. The kind of mess that’s beautiful because it’s dirty. Your teeth are not gentle on your plush bottom lip. It stings, tugged back and bitten and still a bit swollen with kisses. Perhaps you taste the tang of metal on it, but you pay it no mind.

Kai redoubles his efforts. Now that he knows exactly how to play you, he’s fucking you on his fingers without mercy. The sounds coming from your cunt were wet, but now they’re different— nasty squelching. The only noises coupling with your pathetic keening. Forget anchoring yourself on his thigh, forget muffling your sounds. Instead, your hands fly to encircle his flexing forearm. Under your nails, angry red crescents dig into the muscle there. What had been a languid, building pleasure suddenly becomes everything. Your breaths run away from you, and you chase them frantically. Deep down in your core, the muscles spasm and rage against his fingers. “H—oh god,” you groan. Even the muscles in your thighs and tummy tighten up.

“So whiny...” Kai mumbles, voice taut with the effort of eroding you down into pure, blinding-white pleasure.

And then, in a swoop of mercy, your belly tightens. You hover here, on the precipice of something so consuming and voracious that your muscles and bones reject it, and yet your heart sings. Your eyes and cheeks and lungs and belly burn, the flame charring the edges of you in a beckon. You answer its call. Kai doesn’t mind the snapping of your legs shut around his arm, nor does your bucking or shaking deter him. He just holds you through it, arm like a metal bar around your waist. He’s everywhere, in this moment—the smell of him, leather and utterly familiar, his mouth dusting hot kisses over your skin, his fingers guiding you through orgasm. Where you’d gone silent in the initial crash of it, you devolve into mewls and grunts as you come down.

He holds you even as you slump against him boneless. Afterglow simmers in your veins and has your brain all lethargic and lazy. Neither of you speak for a while, your pulse thumping a rhythm. His breaths rise and fall against you; it grounds you in this moment where you feel all spacey and gone. You become aware again of how disgustingly sweltering it is in his room, your skin sheened.

That brainless bliss only lasts you for so long, though. When rational mind returns to you, no matter how you wish it wouldn’t, you’re hit in the chest with regret so hard it knocks the wind out of you.

How will anything ever be the same after what you’d just done? Stricken still by the thought, you barely register him pulling his fingers out of you. After all your worrying about making sure no wedge comes between you two, look what you’ve gone and done. No; nothing ever will be the same again.

⚝⭒

A couple of weeks ago, you ruined the one friendship you were supposed to have forever. It presses down heavy one you while you sit sprawled out on Yeonjun’s couch, his arm around your shoulder. His phone casts a glow over his features with all the lights out.

It doesn’t smell like home. He, pressed against your side, doesn’t smell like home.

Some stupid movie that he’d picked out, yet somehow you’ve ended up the only one still watching it, weaves a hum into the quiet of his apartment. Tangy hurt wells up in your throat. Even the moments when you and Kai would sit in mutual silence on your phones never felt like this. This is different.

You haven’t seen Kai since that night. He’s been busy getting ready to move out, and you’ve been here most days. How fast all of it had changed. You wish you’d feel whiplashed, left empty, by the drifting that you’d been so terrified of. But you don’t. It’s just been you, locked on land, watching him being taken away by the ocean’s tide with no way to change its course. You tried and screamed to call him back, but now your voice has gone hoarse.

And instead of watching him go, you choose to look elsewhere. It’s all you can do to protect yourself from the hurt.

“Hey,” Yeonjun says, finally addressing you rather than whoever’s he’s got in his phone. “Did you bring anything to change into?”

“I brought stuff to sleep in,” you say, eyeing him. You know that’s not why he’s asking. If it came down to it, you could just steal something from him and pull it on. He means going out clothes. Your jaw tightens. “But nothing nice. Why?”

He stretches his arms behind his head in a flaunt of long arms and tanned muscle. Hours spent at the gym lent him those; you appreciate the look of it with a watering mouth. Kai had earned his build by hours spent outside with your dad, because his own could care less, helping him fix up cars and vehicles of all ridiculous sorts. You remember when Kai had first gotten his truck—junk on wheels, honestly—he’d spent so much of summer out there getting it running. And, well... the sun-kissed bronze of his skin and frame that came with it, you had no qualms with.

But those memories only sit heavy in your chest as you’re sat here beside Yeonjun. You banish them elsewhere; you need to let him drift off. If you can’t have each other, and your feelings won’t permit just being friends, then you have to. You want him to do amazing things, and you fear that it’s your presence in his life that will interrupt that. As much as your feelings are real, they are selfish. You, your unsure direction and all your dead weight, should let him go. Because you love him.

“The guys want to come over,” he tells you, pushing off from the couch. “You should probably into change into something less showy.”

Less showy. Your mouth drops into a scoff of disbelief, looking down. A pair of shorts and a shirt, showy? You have to laugh, or else you’ll succumb to the strange embarrassment crawling at the back of your skull. What’s he trying to say? Is that what he thinks of you? “What’s that supposed to mean?” you say, face tilted up to him in a twist of distaste. “I’m wearing something comfy.”

He shrugs, hands shoved into the pockets of his black sweats. “Don’t want to give them the wrong idea about you, that’s all, baby. They’re guys; I just want to protect you.”

“No,” you say, the word falling out in a barked laugh. “Why would you even be bringing over dudes that you think will look at me like that? Why are you even friends with people that you think are gonna make moves on your girlfriend?” He holds a hand out to you, but your hands stay right where they are: crossed solidly over your chest.

Throwing that hand up in audacious exasperation, he gives you a look that makes you feel small and petulant—like you’re throwing an overblown fit. And, maybe you are. You should probably just do it; him seeing you as some overbearing or high maintenance girl has that embarrassment flaring like wildfire that’s found dry brush. “C’mon, baby,” he says, a lazy smile on his mouth that gets under your skin. “Let’s just have an easy night. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Let’s just have an easy night. As if you’re the one ruining the night. Something snarky tries to seize your tongue, but you hold it down. “I thought it would be just us. We wanted to watch the movie together, Yeonjun. Can’t you wait to hang out with your friends? Let’s enjoy our time together; you’ve got your shift tomorrow.”

“My fucking god,” he groans, running a hand through his hair furiously. “You’re needy, you know that? The neediest I’ve ever had to put up with. I don’t put up with needy, baby. Can’t you just chill out a little? My last didn’t mind when I’d have friends over.”

Your eyes burn. Your cheeks burn. He’d been with plenty of other girls before you; that, you’re well aware of. It’s been a corrosive source of self-doubt for you. You don’t want that title: the neediest he’s ever had. Don’t want him to think of you as some prude that won’t let him have fun. Just... hearing him bring up the other girls he’d been with before you stings and leaves welts no different from a slap in the face. Feelings of inadequacy shackle you and have you saying, “Fine. I’m gonna borrow some of your clothes.”

Heavy resentment blooms on your skin where he bends down and presses kisses to your cheek, and then mouth, and then down your neck. “Thank you, baby.”

And, where those ugly, wilted flowers of it bloom, you hear echoes of something. Something that tells you that Kai wouldn’t treat you like this. But you’ve made your bed, decided to do it yourself, and now you’ve got to lay on it.

⚝⭒

The frat parties are the worst kind of social outing that Yeonjun insists upon. The smaller kinds, more intimate gathering with just his closer friends, you tolerate much easier. You’re not fond of the circles he chooses. Breathing in thick, smoked-out air surrounded by alcohol-coated breaths is not your type of fun night. Somehow, you end up doing that more than date nights. But that’s better than being here. The base rumbles up through your feet and makes your stomach sick, and it reeks of grinding bodies and body odor, and condensation coats your fingers from the red solo cup as full as when you’d first gotten it.

But, still, you come along. Not every time, but when you don’t, you lay in his bed sickening yourself with images of what he might be doing here. How pathetic is it to attend parties with your boyfriend because you fear that otherwise, he might stick his tongue down the throats of other girls?

You’re looking for him right now, awkward and left alone. He’d promised to stick around; you had begged him to. That was pathetic, too. You know that you put up with too much. If he loved you, or honestly even liked you, you two would be in the thick of the throngs dancing or off somewhere talking with others. Together. The frantic skimming and weeding of your eyes through the blur of faces is not right. That’s not how he should make you feel. It’s not how Kai would make you feel.

Well, Kai would never have you here in the first place.

Venturing out from your little corner, you sift between the bodies of people have a hell of a lot better time than you. Drunken, some you bounce off of like bumper carts. You press your palm over the round face of your cup to spare the floor from spillage threatening to pour over the lip. It’s not like a splash from yours would matter much, though. The linoleum has already been made a fetor mess of dirt off shoes and the sticky sugar of liquor. Your shoes peel from it as you walk. God, what would your parents think of you being here?

You peek around corners and eye big groups. He’s not in the kitchen when you look there, either. Your stomach feels sick in a knowing way—a gut feeling that doesn’t justify anger or tears just yet, but you know. Right in the center of your chest, you know.

It’s in some room that you find him. Sat on the floor along with a few faces you don’t know, he pulls from his bottle. And on his shoulder, he lets a girl with shining curls and pink cheeks rest her head. At your busting in on the intimate gathering, Yeonjun’s eyes slide to you. Recognition flashes over them and wars with bleary drunkenness.

“Hey, baby,” he says. Their gazes all fall on you, but you can hardly see them through blurry eyes.

The girl lifts her head from his shoulder. She’d caught the memo.

“I think I’m gonna go.” You make it sound resigned, try to not let them see your shame, but your voice betrays you and crackles. Maybe it’s better to pretend it doesn’t feel like you’ve just been kicked in the stomach and left to reel against the force, but you can’t. You’re nowhere near shocked, nowhere near blindsided, but still you hurt.

He follows you down the hall. “What’s your problem?” he says, the few, plain words mending and waving into a slurring.

You’ve got one goal: get to the front door, away from the shitty music and him. His words, sharpened, fall off your skin despite his efforts. What good would fighting do you, anyway? It was always going to end up this way. This is just who he is, and he doesn’t give two shits enough about you to want to change that.

“Baby, seriously? That made you this mad? I didn’t even fucking do anything. Stop being insecure,” he says. At the gritting of your teeth, he sees an opportunity and pounces on it. “You don’t need to be jealous. I don’t do jealous shit. We can dance, or something. Shit, I don’t know what you want! Just stop throwing a fit.”

Didn’t do anything? You have to laugh. Maybe you didn’t walk in on him fucking someone else, but that’s not what this is about. Not even a little bit. You’ve checked out, and the fact that he thinks he can make you believe that it’s your fault this time only drives the killing stake in harder.

Maybe you’re bitter. It claws at your insides—turns your face hot and screams in your face that you’ve been used. But beside it sits a sadness. Not the slow kind, but the quick sadness of hurt. Why hadn’t you been good enough for him to love you? To like you? You’d left behind Kai and rested your new life on Yeonjun’s shoulders. You’d wanted so badly for his approval, or for him to want you. You did your best to try and make this work out because you needed it to. You needed so desperately proof that you could fall in love with somebody else. But your best was not what Yeonjun was interested in.

Pins and needles prick your skin as you step outside, like jumping into an ice bath. It shocks you out of dizziness. Words surge up and out in a flash flood like hard reality. You spin on him. “Jealous?” you say, choking out a scathing laugh. “The last thing I’d ever let myself suffer over you is jealousy. Get over yourself. I’m going, stay here if you want. I don’t care.”

“How are you gonna do that, huh?” he says. The flickering yellow of the porchlight paints his features. The shadow of something fluttering around it cuts dark spots in the light, and then a small little moth comes down and jumps around in his face. He waves it off. “Gonna have bitch boy come pick you up? You can’t leech off him forever; he’s gonna get sick of picking up another man’s girlfriend.” It seems like you walking in on that had sobered him up, but his breath still curls out onto your face with the reek of alcohol. “It’s not a big deal. You’re making this a bigger deal than it has to be. Do you not trust me?”

“You are such a piece of shit,” you grit out. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Ever. I don’t know how I let this go on for so long.” You don’t like him having Kai in his mouth, don’t like him trying to act like you’re conflating things, and especially don’t like that face he’s making. As if you’re acting crazy and overblown. “No, I don’t trust you. You didn’t fuck her, but come on, Yeonjun. Seriously? You think I’m stupid, and I’m sick of it. You thought this would be easy because I didn’t have the experience you have, but I’m sorry. I don’t like being walked over.”

“If you’re gonna be so goddamn jealous, then maybe we aren’t gonna work,” he says.

That moth, floating light in the air, is right back in his face. Yeonjun takes two hands and smashes it between a clap of his hands. He shakes its flattened, broken body off his hand. Looking down at it laying there on top of dirt-caked concrete, you get this... feeling. A tickling around your person.

“See if I care,” you snap, throat aching against the onslaught of emotion and held back tears.

⚝⭒

Rivulets of raindrops dilute the tears on your cheeks. Your hair plasters to your face and your clothes to your body.

For a week, you’d went about it all as if it hadn’t happened. And then you came here.

It’d not been this rainy when you first got down to the creek—just a gentle trickle, really. You hadn’t been crying then, either. But, watching the water work at babbling over stone, you let yourself feel it. Here, where you’d had so many good memories. You’ve gone and tainted it, now. But for whatever reason, you’d just wanted to be here. Arms curled around yourself and fingers digging into drenched sleeves, you don’t wipe away the tears or cover the sounds of your crying. You let the stream hear it; it’ll sweep it right up and down the way. Somewhere far off, where you don’t have to feel it anymore.

You realize that, usually, you’d be over at Kai’s right now. The fact that his room was not the first place you thought you could go to anymore is a punch to the gut. You drop your face into your hands and cry harder. Really, you’ve got to stop doing that to yourself. Thinking of sad things—putting your hurt under the microscope to see it closer. It’d be easier to just fold it up and tell yourself that it’ll pass, and that relationships end all the time.

It’s not him that you cry over. Well, maybe some of it is. Rather, it’s that you have absolutely no idea where you’re going. Where you are. Finally, you’d built yourself a raft to get off the shore and go out to sea, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, and it’s breaking apart right beneath you. And, stranded and alone in the water, you’ve got no way to get back to shore to build yourself another raft. You’re stranded, and the scariest bit is that you’re doing it all alone. You weren’t supposed to do this alone. You two made promises back then.

You suppose that a promise is one of those things you were supposed to leave faith in back on shore.

The raindrops are heavy over you. The fall of it roars against the ground, a torrent downpour. It’s not coupled with whipping wind or flashes of lightning—just straight, still falling. It’s a somber feeling no different from the gnawing in your chest.

Like chimes, there’s a distant, gentle sound. Maybe water falling over creek rock, but it’s more like suggestion. A sweet sound that you shouldn’t even be able to hear over the rest of it, it’s as if it’s right in your ear. A whisper.

You fix your blurry eyes with a wet sleeve. Rain falls right back into its place, but you see it: a silvery, whimsy haze. And the moths. They jump and call you, this time. Their glow bounces off the rainy mist against the grey of night’s arrival. Then, all you can hear is the whispering. Where you stand frozen, your feet beg to move. To follow them.

So you do.

Their entourage of moondust trails them where they go, wrapping you up and weaving between raindrop and space. You don’t worry where they’ll take you, or even try to wrap your head around this happening again. You just follow, mind glossed over and entranced with how beautiful it is. When you’d seen them before, it’d made you uneasy. Mostly because it looked so unearthly and unbelievable. But this time you just follow.

A far-off voice, one oh-so-familiar, peaks through the haze. It’s not enough to stop you, but then you hear it again, louder and closer.

You blink a few times. Once to break away the fog, and then twice to focus your eyes on Kai stood in front of you. His hair lays in wet spikes over his eyes and beads of rain trace the planes of his face. He’s as soaked as you.

“Kai?” you say. Looking around you, you’ve ended up somewhere in the field between your houses and the creek. But you’ve got no recollection of walking here. Whatever that mist is, sentient or not, had swept you here.

His voice is strained, but you appreciate hearing it. “Break up with him,” he tells you.

In his eyes, as you search them, there’s stardust glowing like reflection. Your face twists up. “What?” you say, breath a puff of smoke ahead of you. Summer had come and gotten away from you so fast, and now it’s gone all cold again.

“Break up with him,” he echos, face solemn. He looks ruffled.

“Why?” you ask, “And why are you out here?”

“Because I’m moving out today, and I think I deserve to at least see you before I go.” His eyes look over you. “And... your dad said you went down to the creek.”

He’s moving out today, and you had no idea. And really, it’s your fault. You’d driven that wedge between the two of you. “I did break up with him.”

Downpour fills his quiet for a few moments, his face swirling with emotion like the clouds above you. He nods. “Good.”

There are a few more long minutes between you; just you two searching each other's faces, antsy to say so much that it bunches up in your chests and stalls. It’s what a summer of longing does to you. Even with Yeonjun, even trying to slowly chip away the stitching that had connected the two of you at the hip, you were helpless to stop the gnawing of the love you bear for him. Even just seeing him now, you feel those threads mending back up. God, why does it have to be so hard?

He just looks at you. For a few beats, he just looks at you. There are so many questions in his eyes. They flit across and turn over, but all he settles on is, “Why?”

There’s so much you want to tell him. Words pile up to the top, some threatening to spill over. But you know that if you tell him some of it, just to make up for all the time you’d missed out on together, it’ll all come crashing out. And you don’t think you want him to know just how much you accepted, the way you let yourself get treated. So, you shake your head and say, “It doesn’t matter.”

Kai looks like he wants to push that issue, but whatever look he finds on your face deters him. “Come with me,” he pleads. “I want you to come with me.”

Your throat tightens. Curling your arms around yourself harder, the rain only coming down on you harder, you say, “Kai, I want to. I want to. I just... I don’t want to freeload off you, because you’re doing great things, and I’m just...” Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, but they’re already as soaked as the rest of you. “I’m just going nowhere. And I don’t want to be a burden, or ever be the reason that you can’t do what you dream of. If staying here means that you become everything that you’re destined to do, then I’m happy with that, Kai. I am.”

He shakes his head, stumbling toward you. “No, no you don’t get it,” he says, frantically taking your shoulders into big hands. Under his touch, every taut muscle goes slack. You melt. “You don’t get it. You are the music. Every single song is about you. Every single fucking song is about you. I want you to come with me, please. I love you, I have always loved you, and I will always love you, and I thought you’d loved me too, and I don’t want to do this alone. I can’t do it alone.”

He loves you. Kai loves you. The enormity of it rumbles the ground where you stand on legs you fear might just give in. You flex your fingers to combat the tears pricking your eyes. It doesn’t work; they brim and well up, spilling down over your cheeks. “What?” you say, voice softly breaking. “Kai, I didn’t...”

“And just when I thought I finally had you, you left me,” he says, throwing a hand up beside him in a big gesture. “You left me! I woke up thinking you’d be there, and that maybe you loved me too, and you had left me. And then you threw me away for some piece of shit, and you stopped coming around.” His chest heaves for breaths.

Your face contorts. That night, the one where you two had slipped up, you’d fallen asleep curled up against his chest on undiluted contentment. When you woke up, you had panicked. You thought he’d wake up and pretend it hadn’t happened, or he’d be uncomfortable, or even be disgusted and regretting. You couldn’t handle that, so you slipped out before he woke up. It’d been an attempt to protect your tender heart, but looking at the twitching of his lip now, you begin to think it’s the most selfish thing you’ve ever done. He thinks you used him and left him. Your stomach twists. Voice thick, you say, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you, Kai. I thought you didn’t... I thought you didn’t see me that way. I was scared. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Brows knitted together, he says, “Thought I didn’t love you?” His hand cups your cheek, warm against the soft frozen skin he finds there. “I’ve... I’ve dreamed of you almost every night of my life. In my sleep, I see you, and you’re happy and glowing, and that damn... mist is all around you. I couldn’t get away from you even in my sleep.”

Darting between his eyes, soft and reflecting your face back to you, it’s hard to breathe. Kai’s dreamt of you; he’s as sickly in love with you as you are him. Thunder claps, and the ground shakes, and the heavens open up above you, the trumpets belt, and you two are in love. Somewhere deep in your center, you feel it—your soul nodding yes.

The mist. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “I saw it. That stuff, those moths. The stuff we saw back then.”

“I did too,” he says, wet spikes of hair bouncing with a nod. “Not that long ago. It was the first time I saw it out of a dream since that day.”

Back then, you two had only budding, innocent love for each other. Things hadn’t become mangled and lost to confused hearts or expectations. When they’d appeared to you, you hadn’t needed it. This time, you’d followed it. And it had led you here—somehow had led you right to the very spot you needed to so that every last piece might fall into place. For this moment to happen. You know why it did.

“I’ll go with you, Kai. I’ll go wherever you go; I love you. I’ve loved you since forever,” you say, each and every word massive and lovely on your tongue. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier.”

So unlike the last times your mouth had met, he brings his mouth to yours with a dazzling clarity. No longer is it confused kisses; he locks his lips against yours with the urgency of so many years being unable to. Kai’s hands cradle your wet cheeks, hold you so tenderly into his kiss. His touch grounds you, makes the moment real. You melt into him—your fingers curled into his shirt as if holding him there so that he won’t disappear like something of an incorporeal dream. He sighs through his nose, kissing you harder. Even if it all were fake and this was nothing more than a feverish figment of your imagination, you think you could die happy just knowing this once.

But it is utterly real, and utterly yours. You kiss him harder, too.

When your lungs start to burn and plead for breath, you two pull away from each other. Your eyes flutter open to capture his. Warm and brown and the same ones you’ve stared into so many times before, but not like this, you sink into them. He runs his thumb over your cheek as he sinks into yours. His tongue darts out to lick lips painted with you. In the inches between you, space no longer feels heavy or charged with grievances. Every last unsaid thing had been answered.

“I have my stuff up in the truck,” he says, breaths soft. Brown eyes dart around your face. “I’ll help you add your stuff to it.”

You shudder out a breath. Add your stuff to it. A nervous energy settles down over you, but it doesn’t seem so bad if you’re doing it with him. Together.

“Okay,” you whisper, a balmy secret just like the ones you used to share in small, giggly voices so many years ago. “Okay.”

⚝⭒

Shivers seize you like jittering bones, all wrapped up in a blanket. The velour cushion seats beneath you have soaked up water and become damp, but Kai’s got the heater blasting. You wind around back roads, headlights illuminating the way ahead of you. Stray droplets whip in them, but nothing much. Isn’t it funny how the rain had just stopped like that? That’s just how the weather is, out here. You wonder how the weather might act wherever you’re headed.

Your teeth chatter as if your jaw had its own will. The two of you had the windows down thinking that the wind might dry you off, but all it’s done is lap at your bitten cheeks. You reach down for the handle to crank it up. You’ve got a long drive ahead of you—either you’ll eventually dry off, or you can pull off at a rest area to change in a bathroom. The wet clothes are really not helping.

With an arm up on the steering wheel, Kai turns his attention on you. You know that smile. “Cold?” he asks, eyes darting between your face and the road. With the hand he’s not got working the steering wheel, he runs fingers over your thigh. Soft, gentle massages, yes. The number it does on your core is absurd. Each mindless digging into your thighs and brush of his thumb, sparks sputter there. You’ve sat here, right in his passenger seat, so many times before. Day trips up to the lake, the one he’d joined your family camping at for so many summers, all the times he’d driven you to school in this truck, and even just a quick run down to a convenience store for a late-night snack. You’d deemed it your seat. But never once had you sat in it like this. Your heart does a flip. All those times you’d wish he’d reach over and do just this—a small gesture that would’ve been so big then. And it’s your reality, now.

“Freezing,” you say. A brush of his fingers nearer the apex of your thighs sends you pressing them together and shifting in your seat. “But not everybody runs as hot as you, though, so.”

His eyes catch the movement in just the split second he looked over to you. “Huh,” he says. He turns to look at you, his gaze flickering with something anew. Something that you’d only ever seen once before. “Is that it?”

It’s hard to swallow. His fingers brush higher, and higher, feather-dustings of calloused fingertips that sends tingles shooting up your spine at the slightest suggestion of where he’s headed. “Yes,” you say, feigning indignance to cover the shiver that threatens to overtake you. When his fingertips dance at the waistband of your bottoms, it does so anyway. “Kai,” you say, blood hot in your veins. “You’re...driving.”

His eyebrows pinch into a taunting furrow. “I am,” he says, nodding. “Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ve got us.”

And he does; fingers slipping under the band of both your bottoms and your panties, he doesn’t even tear his eyes off the road. He’d driven these roads so much, you think he might be able to do it asleep. Even drawing a mewl from you with a brush over your clit, he doesn’t look away more than a quick glimpse at your pinkened cheeks.

Two fingers dragging up your folds, right over the source of the mess. “You get excited so easily, huh?” he hums. “You like it when I play with you.”

When he presses those fingers at your entrance, you can’t help but be taken back to that night. It echoes and reverberates through you. Long fingers, strong and punctual brushes against the sweet spot—he was criminally good with his fingers. Playing guitar did more for him than just music. He seemed to know exactly how to utilize those roughened fingers and trained flicks. Your muscles flicker as he abandons your hole for more brushes at your bud.

Those teasing, sly touches turn to something more serious. His fingers roll over your clit, slow but enough to have you sighing and rolling your hips against the seat belt. But last time had gone just like this, him touching you and receiving nothing. He should feel good, too. “Shouldn’t you pull over?” you sigh, muscles taut. Your breaths come out shuddering and half-controlled, interrupted by the tightness that each delicious swirl provokes. The door takes the brunt of your grip, white-knuckling the interior.

He laughs, a husky sound that is tinder to fire. He knows what you mean. “Maybe,” he says. “But I think I’m enjoying this plenty. I think I want to see you cum on my fingers again.”

Fingers pinching and flicking faster, you grow breathy and whiny, hips rolling against the seatbelt and back into the seat. Your muscles, all the way down your thighs and deep in your belly, jump and twitch each time his fingers run over your clit in just the right spot—that tender spot that’s so good that it teeters on overwhelming. The kind that makes you hiss and then want more. “Shit, Kai,” you whine. “Right—there, keep going."

He doesn’t answer with any teasing words. No, he just doubles down right at that angle and pressure, leaned back into his seat and driving as if he wasn’t fingers-deep in your panties right now. His sculpted profile at total ease—it does something for you. A delicious tightness curls its fingers over your center, promising a sugary ecstasy that you can’t help but chase. Bucking into his hands as best you can, you go quiet. Right there—right there, you feel it. The cusp. Your fingers brush over it, clenching around nothing and squeezing your thighs tight around him. Every last drop of blood in your body reaches for it, singing and dancing through your veins and making you dizzy.

And then he stops. Your mouth drops open, whiplashed and helpless to its slipping away from you. You whittle your gaze into something sharp and turn to him. “What—why?” you complain. The tide slips further and further and further back, but you still taste sea salt on your tongue. Frustration sets in its place as you feel it go. Seriously, you’d been right there. “You’re so mean.”

He slows and then with the clicking of the turn signal, he’s off the road and pulling the truck into park on a little secluded side road. Where the headlines pierce the pitch black, nothing but gravel and field surrounds you. He doesn’t kill the engine, instead pulling his hand free from you.

Your heart, still stuttering with your lost orgasm, kicks back to life as he smears your slick over your mouth, dragging it over your lips and then taking his thumb to run it right over the plush of your mouth. “Am I?” he says, fingers taking your chin to meet your eyes with his. Endless hunger, pupils so blown that his eyes look black, pins you. “I don’t think you’ve seen mean yet, baby.”

Darting your tongue out to clean your lips, you look at him through your eyelashes. “Show it to me, then.”

Something dark passes over his face. It has your skeleton jumping out of your body. Then, he says, “Is that what you want? You want mean?”

Brain gone to mush that can only really think about him touching you, a slow nod is all you can manage.

The engine’s hum prevails for some long, thick seconds. And then, he tilts his head in a gesture. “Get in the back.”

Holy shit. You want to sit there frozen in an overwhelming sort of excitement, but his seatbelt clicks undone and you’re set into motion. In a flurry of giggles and clumsy limbs, you climb up over the center console and into the backseat. He slips out of the front seat, not bothering to even kill the engine.

The door beside you opens in a swirl of cold wind. In nothing more than a blink, a strong hand has both your wrists pinned to the cushions and your back flush against it. Nose-to-nose, his breath hot over your face. “I’ve got plenty of ideas as to how I can warm you up.”

You appreciate each other’s faces for a beat more, you looking up at him big-eyed and waiting. Kai breaks the moment to attack your neck in a procession of bites and kisses. Your mouth falls into a silent sound.

“You know,” he says, free hand working your pants off. His eyes are trained on you, though. “I thought about doing this to you all summer. Touching you again.” He moves on to your top, pushing the fabric up until your chest is freed, clad in soft cotton. He eats the sight up. You want to reach down and cup the back of his head or feel his hair between your fingers as he presses his mouth against the soft beginning of your cleavage, but he’s got your wrists firmly planted. So much so, that you wonder exactly how he’s got you so secure with just one hand. Kai is strong, but maybe you hadn’t seen just how strong. Your skin aches under the purple bites he decorates you in. The sight of him—face in your chest and marking you up so lazily—has your teeth abusing your bottom lip. Whatever sounds you might make otherwise would be embarrassing. Kai lifts his eyes to you. “And I think you thought of me, too. Didn’t you?”

“Oh, god, yes,” you say, writhing beneath him. He’s going so slow. You want him all over you. “So much.”

He likes that. He takes your pebbled nipple into his mouth through the fabric. Soft grazes of teeth and sucks, you’re burning all over. When he pulls back, he’s left you dark wet patches when the bra had only just dried against your body heat. “Good,” he rasps, taking his big hands demanding and hungry over your torso. They swallow your frame up, soothing skin but lighting it aflame all the same. “Good girl.”

You never thought just words could unravel you, but those did the job. Not a gasp, nor a sucking in of breath—no, you go silent and brainless, fumbling for rational thought.

The dropping of your jaw has Kai delighted. “You’re so pretty,” he says. In a swift and powerful hoist, he’s tugging you down the cushions toward him with greedy fingers. He’s got your thighs pressed up to your chest. You’re bent right in half.

Out of breath, you huff out, “You too.”

A quick laugh falls from his mouth, lips pulled into a smug tilt. He nips at your calf up by his face. “So sweet, it almost makes me feel bad for what I’m about to do to you.” Reaching down for your panties, he pulls back on the suffocating press for only enough time to drag them up your legs. Those get discarded somewhere on the floor. Who cares about that right now, though? All you can register is the metallic clinking of his belt being undone. It’s got your nervous system twisting up.

And, those words. Electricity shoots bolts of pure, sizzling revery into your core. What I’m about to do to you. You imagine a great deal of things that he might mean, but still, you think that none could hold a candle against the promise his voice held in saying it.

Kai presses his body to your thighs and hooks your calves over his shoulders, and it all becomes real. The press of his heavy cock to your folds, the digging of his fingers into your outer thighs, his pretty eyes sparkling with something feral. As real as it gets—more real than anything you’ve ever felt in the entirety of your life. Your hands find perch flattened to his broad chest.

The position leaving you two no option but to look right into each other, he holds your gaze and begins slow drags of his hot length up and down your slit. Tantalizing, awful, awful drags. When his tip nudges your eager clit, you jolt. And then he does it again. And again.

“Kai,” you mewl. A press against your hole has you hopeful, and he lingers there for a moment, but doesn’t give it to you. Can’t he just fuck you? You’ve never been more pitifully in need of something in your life.

“Shh.” His ruts get more daring, smearing your slick up onto your belly. “Take it.”

You wiggle your toes in the air and make passes at arching yourself into him in search of better friction. He’s got you pressed so suffocatingly into the seat that it does absolutely nothing for you. In fact, he holds your harder and changes tack so that your thighs press together. At the very apex of them, his weeping cock slips through the seam.

Pressing his cheek into your calf, he watches you. Every gasp and shaky inhale, he watches. It spurs his rutting on, sticky sounds and pants eating up the air. Your nails claw at his hands as, finally, a knot tightens in your core.

“Yes, please,” you breathe. He fucks your thighs harder. Faster. Every nudge at your clit and hole becomes euphoric. “Kai, baby—I’m gonna—”

Just as furiously easy as last time, he rips it all away from you. The rushing away of the buzzing and promise of shaking thighs—he takes it from you again. It brings prickling tears to your eyes. “Kai?” you hiss. “Again?”

His eyes aren’t playful. He pulls your calves back over his shoulders, handling your hips into a better position to press his cock right at your entrance as if you weigh nothing. Face utterly straight, he says, “I don’t think you deserve it, do you? Not after what you did with Yeonjun.”

A swallow goes down your throat hard. He presses himself just a bit harder into you. Not in yet, but right there.

When he does begin sliding in, the stretch of it... You cling to him and squirm between him and the warm cushions behind you. Each inch is a heady feeling, all the way up to the hilt of him. He shudders a controlled breath. “You’re so fucking tight, though,” he grits out. “Did he not fuck you right?”

Slaps of skin bounce off the car interior and between your bodies. He starts off at a brutal pace; you know it’s meant to make your brain go foggy. Squeezing your eyes closed, you manage, “I... didn’t fuck him.” It comes out strangled, voice bouncing as he fucks you into the car seat.

Thumb tugging your bottom lip down and then dipping into your mouth, he watches the show of your ecstasy down to every last detail. “Yeah?” he says, voice shaking and almost desperate. “Always thinking of me, huh? Such a good little princess. You know exactly where your heart belongs.”

You want to answer him, even just with a whine or moan. You try to. But with his thumb pressing down on your tongue, enough to pin it to the floor of your mouth, it’s not gonna happen. He tastes salty in your mouth.

His truck consists of his grunts and whines, and your taut groans for some moments that seem to stretch forever. The planes of his groin grind against your clit when he delivers occasional pointed rolls, but mostly it’s just an animalistic, feverish dancing of your two sweaty bodies, holds growing more frantic the closer you get.

Thumb wet with saliva; he frees your mouth. The hand trails slowly down your face and your chin, brushing feather touches, until he finds your neck.

Your eyes fly open, wide. He pressed his fingers into your neck—no real pressure yet, he looks at you through damp strands of dangling hair and says, “Want my fingers around your neck?” His thumb brushes over the buzzing pulse point there.

“Yes,” you grit out, body bouncing and back raw with friction against the coarse cushion’s surface. Your breath stutters, your mind stutters. Even your blinks stutter, eyelids too lazy to keep up. “Please.”

The pressure of his fingers there—it frightens you and has you tightening around him at the same time. But you would trust nobody more with your life than Kai.

He presses his cheek to your calf to indulge in the sight of you like this: underneath him, folded in two, nowhere to go but to take his pistoning hips, cheeks blazing, and his fingers pressed into your windpipe. If the way he becomes sloppier and more desperate in his tempo has anything to say for it, it does something for him.

“Gonna be my pretty little girlfriend, huh?” he says. His voice is tight—so is your belly. You’re both so close. Hopefully, this time he’ll let you cum. “Take you to every show; show you off to everybody. Fuck.”

Brain like static and swimming with a pinched flow of oxygen, you slur your words. “You’re—hah—gonna have other girls all over you.”

The taunting, split-second raise of his brows flips your belly. You tighten him again. If he keeps hitting that spot, tip ramming into the soft spot deep inside you that he’d taken such delicate care of finding last time, you’re going to burst into sparkling flame and firework. He growls, “Well, I’ll just have to knock you up so that they know I’m yours, huh?”

Holy shit. You like the sound of that. Your nails dig into his wrist around your neck, but you cry out a pitchy, “Yes!”

“Oh, you like that?” Kai releases your throat to take both your hips. You gulp for air, finding nothing but the thick air of sex and humid breaths, at the opportunity. He’s ramming into you like he’s found a purpose. “Isn’t this the perfect position to do it? Get you pregnant?”

With every last bit of brain power you’ve got, teetering on the edge excruciatingly close to salvation, you groan a long, hoarse sound. “Fuck, yes! Please, Kai, inside—” A hot trail of tears roll down your temples.

It’s all he’s got to hear to still inside you. His growl rumbles deep in his chest, holding you in place and filling you with his hot cum deep in your cunt. That feeling, coupled with his short grinds against your clit as he fucks his seed deeper, takes your soul by sinful claws and crumbles it down into nothing. You burst into a shaking, whimpering peak, sucking your lips into your mouth to bare through the sheer twisting of your insides and the flame that consumes up your thighs and cunt.

He falls on you heavy, face in your neck. Warm kisses against your clammy skin meld with your slow floating down, the two of you a beautiful, nasty picture of fucked out. He stays right inside you—the absolute stillness of him, you think he has no plans of pulling out any time soon. His long fingers card through your sweaty locks of hair.

Finally, he presses himself off you. You get a glimpse of the window behind him—fogged up and filthy with your affairs. Anybody to see the truck from the outside would know exactly what went on inside, but right now, you don’t care. Not one bit. Your panted breaths drag in nothing but musk and thick, hot air. The drumbeat in your chest tells you that, despite how you feel ripped straight from your body, you are very much still alive. More alive than ever.

“Warm?” he says, pushing sticky hair off his forehead. He’s a mess, too. His hair is ruffled with your touch, his clothes rumpled the same, beads of sweat rolling down the planes of his cheeks and neck, and his eyes a lazy smolder. As much as he looks like sex personified, a soft smile twitches at his lips.

You snort. You can’t help but feel giddy, here with him. You’re with him. Nothing has ever felt more right. Unplugged when he pulls out of you, your mess trickles down onto the seat below you. “Yeah,” you say. “Very.”

Warm is not enough to begin to describe how you feel. In your ears, you hear whisperings. Soft and gentle. Perhaps it was divine intervention, or the fates lending you their word, or maybe just rational thought. It says:

Home. You are home.

✎୭ ashlynn's note how do we feel about this pair? i really didn't mean for this to get so long, but i ended up RLLY liking their chemistry. i had to do their story justice. also, i finished this with kai as a guitarist and then his drummer performance came out... hmm.

﹙🏷️ ﹚@lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 , @linqed , @serenityism00 , @immelissaaa , @luv4cheol , @lickingan0rchid , @20-cms , @hhoneylix , @beestvng , @hyucktapes , @bewitchless , @prince-jjae , @blankliving , @yaoizee , @stormy1408 , @missychief1404 , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

217 notes · View notes

blossoms-phan · 2 days ago

Text

What The Hell. like genuinely do we realize. just their cadence of speech and the way they carry themselves now is so different to the way it was years ago, and that shows itself in everything from videos to what they post on social media to what they’ve been doing on stage for the last few months but like. god. i hold ii as a stage show and the whole era like very close to my heart it really hurts to know how much dan struggled in that time and that it was supposed to be the end of Dan and Phil (it wasn’t!!) but I’ve been thinking about just how completely different ii and tit are as stage shows and the way dnp perform them and it’s like i saw someone wondering about the acting in ii and though it was heavily dependent on audience participation a lot of the show was also acting and it’s not that they didn’t do it well! they’re great performers and maybe I don’t remember bc I wasn’t super into the phandom ar that time but it just felt like they were a lot stiffer performing it and that they didn’t really let themselves mess up or be silly a lot (outside of what was scripted I mean). someone lmk if you have different thoughts on this bc I haven’t rewatched it in a while this is just a ramble but i am so so happy about everything that tit is and that I got to experience this version of them as a longtime fan because it is so, so evident that they are really in the dgaf era, being unapologetically themselves, no one can tell us what to do and just having the most fun ever- that all comes out through the way they carry themselves on stage, improv silly little things for fun, genuinely laugh and smile through it all and dan calling phil babe. that’s the whole reason I started writing this like. cheers dear. it’s okay honey. we let ourselves phannie out over those moments as well but this feels so different?? and we haven’t even gotten audio yet but idk how to explain this I just feel like if phil had messed up a line years ago it would’ve been like a more performance level reaction y’know, like an eye roll and a this guy which dan still very much does, but just genuinely letting an “it doesn’t matter babe” slip out like????????????? they’re literally just boyfriends partners in life actual soulmates who live and work and do everything together doing this stupid silly fucking stage show together every night and dan can just call him babe and they move on and do the show talking about them sharing a bed and the ways they’ve supported each other through this whole thing and how they’ve gotten to this point of beautiful shared authentic fun with their audience and fucking press their hands together and go back to back after that song like this has no fucking clear point to it and yet im losing my mind. does anyone hear me

#titspoilers #dnp #dan and phil #phan #tit tour #blossoms yaps

229 notes · View notes

heartowan · 1 day ago

Text

★WINTER VISITOR: jason todd x reader.

( first part here !! ; afab!reader, cuss words, smoking, sexual content ) ────────── ★

"It's you again." You murmured, your voice sounding extra quiet now that it was past midnight. You could see the tired look in his eyes as he sat down on the wooden floor of your porch, his legs stretched out in front of him, reminding you of the position he was in that day you found him bleeding right there, at that same spot.

It had been a few weeks, maybe two and a half... and there he was: the Red Hood, back at your house, looking up at you with those white shining eyes of his ridiculous helmet.

"Yeah, it's me." He said, and before you could even process or think about the modulated voice, he removed the helmet. Now, only the area around his eyes was covered by that little domino mask.

You didn't like smoking inside, so you often went out to the porch for this sole purpose. To smoke a blunt. It calmed you down, though you didn't enjoy the actual action of smoking that much. It was... er, alright.

You exhaled the smoke slowly, and that was when he noticed what you were doing. "Can I be really honest with you right now?" He murmured, still looking up at you. You offered a soft grunt as a response, and he continued: "I would never, ever, in any possible circumstance ever, guess that you were a stoner." He said, a light chuckle following his words.

You furrowed your eyebrows, something that you seemed to do a lot in his presence, but you weren't offended in the slightest.

"Well... uh, thanks?" You mumbled with little interest. "I do it mostly for the buzz."

"I guessed you'd say that." He teased, a little stupid grin on his lips, and you glared at him.

"What's that even supposed to mean?" You inquired, a faux-offended tone in your voice.

"Nothing, nothing." He snorted, leaning his head back against the wall.

"What are you doing back here anyway?" You asked, now moving to sit down close to him. Honestly, you didn't really mind that he was who he was right now. You were stoned, tired and... didn't give a shit. You'd probably still sit in the same spot if you were sober.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment. "Was passing by and saw you out." He looked over at you, watching as you sat down beside him as he spoke. "Can I have a drag?"

"Sure." You mumbled, handing him the blunt. Woah, now you were gonna share saliva with him. Where the hell was your life going?

You mimicked his position, leaning your head against the wall. The night was freezing. You two probably shouldn't be outside, but you were covered in your warmest clothes, and he didn't seem to be cold, so you brushed your own concerns off.

"I looked you up, by the way." He murmured, handing you the little joint back. "Not much out there."

You arched one eyebrow at his words. Oddly enough, this time you weren't weirded out. "And you're admitting it?"

"Uh, yeah." He shrugged, letting out a soft huff. "Trying to make conversation or something." You laughed at that. What the hell was this guy's deal?

You didn't seem to be angry at him, so he kept talking to you. The whole thing was unusual for both of you. Talking to strangers (sorta) and being comfortable while doing so wasn't something that happened often in your lives.

You two spent hours and hours talking, even after you finished the blunt. It was nice, and even though it was still freezing, you two weirdly didn't bother by it. Maybe it wasn't that cold.

When you woke up the next day, you were in your bed, all tangled up in your sheets. You didn't even know how you got there, but you felt light, like you had a good night of sleep. Also unusual, because every time you smoked, you had the shittiest sleep of your life, but it seemed like this time had been different.

You picked up your phone, and as soon as you unlocked the screen, there was a text notification from a contact that you didn't recognize.

It was a red heart emoji, just that, and the text said: "If you're wondering, yes, I was the one who put you to bed. And yes, I snooped around your room 😝"

You rolled your eyes at that and tossed the phone down on the matress.

★...

More often than not, your few friends noted how affectionate you were. Always giving them little touches, brushing hair back, playing with the strands, fixing their clothes, stroking their arms with your fingers, even tying their shoelaces. It was all so you.

You didn't have many people close to you, and not because you were a loner, simply because you valued your hodiernal connections enough and didn't feel the need to look for anything else at the moment. You liked your friends, in fact, you loved them.

So, when that guy in the red helmet started showing up at your porch at ungodly hours at least three times a week, you started to consider adding him to your circle of friends. It wouldn't harm anyone, he was nice, and your friends wouldn't know anyway.

He was surprisingly talkative with you. You always expected those harsh and violent vigilantes to have harsh and violent personalities even when they weren't doing their job, but he was cool. He talked about a lot of things with you just to keep the conversation going, and you thought it was cute.

"... so... hey, did you get a new lamp?" He asked as he flopped down aggressively on your couch, interrupting his own line of thought. He was asking you about the neighborhood cat before.

You nodded at that, standing across from him while you fixed the little Christmas hat that had fallen off your bookshelf. "Yeah, the other one I had broke. I kinda bumped into it."

He hummed at your explanation, and you recognized the sound of his helmet being taken off. Always, as soon as he got comfortable in your house, he removed it.

While you had some trouble getting the Christmas decoration to stay in place, he stared at your back. Taking in your little green and red pajamas, your slightly messy hair, the dark green socks on your feet, and the way you seemed to be struggling terribly to get the Christmas hat to stay up. Adorable.

He stood from the couch and walked over to help you. "Let me try." He said, gently nudging your hands away. You sighed and let him.

You watched his concentrated face as he tried to put the little red and white hat in a position where its own weight wouldn't make it tumble. He looked nicer up close.

"It's Jason, by the way." He mumbled, eyes focused on fixing the hat. You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Huh?"

"My name. It's Jason." He explained.

He already knew yours. You had told him a few weeks ago when you shared a blunt for the second time.

"Ah, alright." You mumbled back to him, trying not to sound surprising. Jason. It was a cute name, and it seemed to fit him. "Fits you."

He finally got the hat to stay up, and he turned to you with a big, proud smile. You found it quite adorable how much he smiled around you. You didn't know if he was like this all the time, but you chose to believe it was a unique thing.

You two just stared at each other for a moment, him proud of his achievement, and you thankful for his help.

"Do you know how profound your eyes are?" He blurted, making a stupid face at you. Truly, he was gazing deeply into your eyes.

"If this is you trying to hit on me, you're failing." You retorted, a little smile appearing on your lips.

"Just saying." He shrugged, stepping back a bit. "I fixed your hat. You're welcome."

You watched as Jason walked back to your couch, flopping down onto it once more and letting out a lazy groan. His eyes closed, and he let out a tired sigh.

"Rough night?" You murmured, sitting down beside him. Your couch was comfortable and fit up to three people. Most of these nightly visits were spent in it, talking away. It was all too cozy.

Recently, he had started placing his arm around you when you sat closely, that and gently caressing your hair. And, this time, it wasn't different. As soon as your head touched his shoulder, his arm was around you, and his fingers started threading through your hair.

When you got closer, spending time with Red Hood Jason became something like spending time with yourself. Despite the absurdly different lifestyles, you two had a lot in common.

Like physical touch as a love language, liking sweet tea, reading, staying up until dawn, and, of course, being each other's secret. Nobody knew about your midnight visitor, and nobody knew where he went when he became unreachable past midnight.

"Yeah, rough night." He said, his voice becoming softer as he steadied himself with your help, the help of your presence, of your proximity. "Just, like, lots of stupid people making my job even harder."

"I get it." You murmured, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He was to your left, his right hand playing with your hair while you half-rested your back on his chest. It wasn't awkward anymore. You weren't even sure it ever was. "It used to be like that at my old job, and then I got a job at that little bookstore close to Gotham U."

"Mmm." He nodded, tilting his head a little in your direction, but his eyes remained closed. "You think you'd recognize me if I went there in my normal clothes?" There was a faint smile on his lips as he muttered those words.

"Probably." You said smuggly. "That little mask doesn't hide much."

"True," he chuckled softly, his eyes fluttering open to look down at you. They still look tired, and you had no idea if you'd ever see him looking not-tired. Maybe cause you've never seen each other after a good night of sleep. "But, they hide the most important part of my face. You can see the color of my eyes, yeah, but you don't know what's the shape of them or anything."

"Makes sense. Yeah, I think I wouldn't recognize you at first, but I'd recognize your voice, for sure." You said.

"What? Is it special or something?" He smiled at you, his fingers giving your ear a light, playful tug. "I bet you wouldn't recognize that either."

You gasped dramatically, hand cluching chest as you looked at him with the dumbest smile on your parted lips. "How dare you doubt me?" You inquired, your tone dripping of sarcasm.

"I mean..." he mumbled. "I guess you might recognize it. I don't know... we'll- we might see it one day." He fumbled over his words, his cheeks reddening. You got him flustered by making fun of him.

You wondered if that guy snuggled up with you on your couch, mumbling and fumbling over his words because of you was the same guy that beat and killed criminals in the deeps of Gotham. How could he be so... him? People have layers, yes, but this man is unbelievable.

Everything went quiet for a few minutes, only the faint sounds of your breathing and the soft hum of the heater could be heard, but those were muffled by the pull of your gazes on each other. He couldn't stop staring at your face, at your nose, at your lips, at your forehead, at your eyes. Like he'd never seen something so flawless, so polished, so complete ─ all he needed.

And you stared at him, at his mask, at the paint around his blueish-green eyes, at his chapped, but rosy pouty lips, at his straight nose, at his cheekbones, his chin, the white and black locks that fell on his forehead, his ears and the small earings on them. Like you'd never seen someone so unique, that seemed to be right there for you. Just for you.

You sighed when the staring contest became too much, but neither of your gazes strayed. His eyes focused on your lips, and you'd recognize that look in any light.

"Can I be really honest with you right now?" You murmured, and you could see a little smile creeping on his lips when he registered your words. Or, his words. He offered a soft "mhm" in response. "I want to kiss you so fucking bad. I think I might die if I don't."

"You might die?" His tone was soft, slightly mocking. "I don't think I'd like for that to happen."

"It'd be all your fault..." you taunted, giving him ridiculous puppy eyes. But, he was ridiculous too, and they worked so well on him.

He simply chuckled at you, and in half a second, his hand in your hair was used to push your head closer to his face as he leaned in, capturing your lips in the softest kiss you've ever shared with someone. It was lazy, he wanted to adjust to your pace, to let you guide, and you kept it deliciously slow and delicate, your heads moving and lips touching each other in a way that was simultaneously so tender and so sensual.

His hand slid to your cheek, holding you closer and caging you in his embrace while you raised a leg and placed it right on top of his, draping it over his lap, almost to mimic his hold on you. He used his left arm to pull you even closer by that same leg, your chests touching as the kiss became more intense and your tongues met.

He parted his lips to invite it, and you gladly accepted, sliding it inside of his mouth and caressing his own languidly and in a pleasant way, earning a hum from him that you swallowed in your kiss.

The feeling of your lips on his, his hands on you, his tongue on yours... way more satisfying than you'd ever imagined. You didn't think he'd feel so good on you.

His hand on your leg pulled you on his lap, the kiss becoming sloppy as you both shuffled on the couch to get you into a straddling position, each one of your thighs beside and squeezing his, your knees digging into the soft cushions of the couch as the kiss started getting a little more intense.

After all this time knowing and wanting each other, even if the attraction was suble, you'd expected wildness, despair, hands clutching clothes, teeth clashing, lips being biten, but that wasn't happening. What was in the air was need, tenderness, longing, and comfort, almost like it was a normal Thursday.

But it wasn't, and the both of you knew that. It was something new, something that you had yet to explore with the other. You were, of course, stepping into uncharted territory, a land which you knew nothing about. How would it be from now on? He'd still come almost every night? You'd still text constantly? Would you still call him in between your breaks to gossip about your boss? Would things get difficult and complicated?

These thoughts made you pull back from the kiss. Fucking anxiety. The pleasant and wet pop of your lips parting would've made you smile if you weren't so preoccupied. "Sorry." You mumbled into his lips. "Thinking too much."

"Don't worry, I get it." His nose brushed yours, and his heavy, warm fingers slipped under your shirt. He was panting a little, his cheeks, lips and neck flushed. He wanted you so bad. "If... you just want to chill and hang out like we usually do, we can just try to go back to that. Don't overthink it, okay? This doesn't doesn't have to be complicated."

You furrowed you eyebrows at him. "I don't see how this would not be complicated." He smiled at you, at your words, at whatever. He was, honestly, just glad to have you there, on top of him, speaking to him with your pretty voice after he had your tongue down his throat.

"I mean... like, don't think too much. I know it's easier said than done, but I think we'll figure it out anyway." He explained, his words sounding so sweet as he obviously spoke in a way that you just knew was an attempt to comfort you. "I don't wanna sound stupid and mushy, I really don't, but... yeah, I want with you... whatever you want with me. As long as you're happy and satisfied."

"Jason, what the hell do you mean?" You mumbled, narrowing your eyes at him. He laughed at your tone.

Saying his name felt weird. Until some time ago, you only called him Red Hood. But it also felt right, felt closer, deeper, maybe even made you feel warmer inside. The both of you.

"That I like you and I'm happy to be here, doing this with you." He said. "I don't know if it's too fast, maybe it is, but I'm in for it if you are."

Jason squeezed your waist, his eyes glued to yours as he waited for your response. His fingers caressed your skin, the palms of his hands heating up your sides while the pads of his digits squeezed your soft derm.

"I like you too." You whispered, almost afraid of your own words, but he was just marveled about how sensitive and sincere you sounded. "I'm in."

He offered you a gentle smile, warm and inviting, and you smiled back, your eyes crinkling at the corners. That sight reminded him of something.

"Take it off for me?" You looked confused at his request, a little curious pout on your lips. "The mask." Oh.

Carefully, your fingers reached for the black domino mask around his eyes. Even though you were excited to finally see what was under there for so long, you weren't hesitant. It peeled off easily, and you caught a glimpse of his temple once you started pulling it away ─ in five seconds, there he was. Jason.

He had black paint smeared around his eyes, but you could see him clearly even under the dim, warm lighting of your living room. You two were so close that you could see almost all of his lower eyelashes, but the top ones merged with the paint. You couldn't take that.

You wiped the oily paint away with the bottom of your shirt, just hoping it was washable. He simply let you. And in a minute, you finally had him there. All of him, all of his face.

"Your eyes are pretty." You murmured, hands now coming up to craddle his face. "Like, the shape."

"You think?" His voice was low and soft as he asked, and he received a nod in response. He loved when you complimented him, and you didn't do it often. "Kiss me?"

You just nodded again. You'd never dare refuse him. Your met him in a more certain kiss this time, now used to each others lips. He squeezed your waist once more, pulling you closer to him as the kiss intensified. Your clothed cores rubbed and chests pressed together with the movement, and you two grunted at the contact.

Your hands slid down to his shoulders, then to his biceps. You just had to grasp at them. And his own went up to your back, making you tingle. It was already too much, yet not enough.

You moved your hips against his, searching for more of that sensation from just a few seconds ago, and in no time, he was guiding the movements, his hands on your waist, moving you back and forth. The friction was delicious, and it made you both moan in each other's mouths, the sounds making everything so much more pleasant.

His mouth left yours only to press at your cheeks, going up to your temples, and then back down to kiss under your ear, then all over your neck. He just wanted to swallow you whole, but while he couldn't do that, he'd have to settle for kissing you all over.

He painted your neck with red marks, his lips sucking and leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach. Your hands went to his hair, sometimes tugging at his locks, sometimes caressing his scalp. He couldn't get enough of your touch, of your body against his, of your skin. He needed you.

You kept moving against him, rubbing yourself on his crotch to try and soothe the want you felt inside. You couldn't feel that much through your pants. They were thick to keep you warm, but you felt hot enough already.

Jason's hands around your waist lifted you up from his lap with ease, then guided you down to lay on your back on the couch, and you pushed some pillows to the floor on the process so you could fit better. He straddled your hips and pulled his shirt off all while you stared up at him with your pretty eyes.

You didn't hold back when you felt the urge to touch him, your fingers tracing his abs so carefully, caressing all of the skin you could reach without sitting up. His skin was littered with scars, and the ugly gash from before was healing slowly ─ it was still a red, long scar on his chest, its color showing that it wasn't fully healed yet, but much better than before. It wasn't that deep of a wound, but with him constantly having people beat him, neither of you expected it to heal quick and gracefully.

"I want you." You murmured quietly, a little embarrassed of your own words, but they were the ultimate truth. You wanted Jason and anything he could offer to you at that moment.

His eyes followed your hands, and he placed one of his on top of yours, pressing your fingers against his skin. "I'm yours." He whispered, and you wondered if he meant right now or from now on.

You looked back up in his eyes, and you felt heat pooling at your lower belly when you noticed the look in them. Like he wanted to consume you, and you wanted him to. Right now.

His hands lifted your shirt, bunching it up past your chest as he leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth while his fingers softly grazed the other, caressing it. You slipped your fingers in his hair again, pushing his head against you, and you felt him move his hips against yours once more.

With that, you could feel how much he wanted you as well, as the bulge in his thick pants pressed against you even through the heavy layers. You wanted those heavy layers off.

"Jason," you mumbled his name, hands gently squeezing his shoulders. "Take your pants off."

You heard him let out an amused huff at your request, and he went back up to his previous position, looking down at you. He guided your hands to his belt, and you knew what to do.

Swiftly, your fingers unbuckled it, pulled it out of the loops, and tossed it to the floor of your living room, you both heard as it landed on the mat with a soft thud. You went for his button next, then for the zipper. You caught a glimpse of his black boxers, salivating at the mere view of them.

He helped you push his pants down and then tossed them to the floor as well. When he was free of his, he yanked yours away without warning, making you let out a surprised yelp, in which he delighted himself.

He laughed at the sound you made while he removed your green socks, and you glared up at him for surprising you. "Not funny." You muttered, but he shrugged playfully at you.

He leaned down to nuzzle your neck after he removed your shirt as well, the gesture reaking of the affection he felt for you. His hands splayed on your stomach as his lips and nose caressed your senstive skin, and you squeezed at his arms, your legs sneaking past his and wrapping around his hips.

His hands went for your ankles, caressing the back of them as he dived back into your chest and then down to the valley in between your breasts, then to your stomach, and then to the place where you wanted him the most.

His hands went back up to your sides now, but he brought one down to caress you through your panties, brushing a finger over the damp spot in them, and then one over your clit. He smiled at how your thighs pressed on his shoulders and then at you when his eyes found yours.

He kept rubbing that same spot through the thin fabric, stimulating your clit, but not too much. He knew you wanted more, both of you did, but he wanted to savor that moment, and you appreciated that, even if you were dying for him to just pull those panties off and have his way with you.

Jason hooked one of his fingers onto the waistband of your underwear and finally pulled them off. Unlike the rest of his clothes, he didn't toss those on the floor, placing them on the beside you instead so you wouldn't have trouble looking for them later.

He looked down at you, exposed to him for the first time, his mouth salivating at the sight of you wet, swollen, and flush all because of him. He didn't have the strength to tease you anymore in that moment. He just dove in.

His hand that was toying with you before went back to your empty side, pulling your body closer to him so he could properly burrow his face in your pussy while he ate it, and then it moved to press at your lower stomach, urging your orgasm on. His tongue lapped at you, into your soaked folds and at your swollen bud, which he sucked so carefully to make you feel pleasure and only that.

He kept a steady rhythm, using your moans and gasps as a guide for his pace. Your fingers played with his hair while you rolled your hips against his face, rubbing your cunt on him, using his mouth for your pleasure. He was so good at that, at making you feel good.

He slipped his tongue inside of you once or twice to test the waters, and you whimpered at that. He couldn't wait to bury himself in you. He pulled away from your weeping cunt, only to slip his boxers off, revealing his flushed length.

You pushed up to your elbows to have a better view of him, and he looked divine from head to toe. The messy hair that you had been toying with, his flushed face, neck, and chest looked so good under the warm lighting of the room, his hard and leaking girth that looked like it was made to fit you, the pathetic needy expression on his face, and yours probably looked the same too.

He let you take your time, let you stare at him. Your eyes were hungry, and so here his. You looked all perfect down there, looking at him, with your cheeks flushed, lips parted, messy hair spilling on the pillow, your beautiful body and legs spread for him. God, he wanted you more than he ever wanted anything.

Jason licked his lips, and once he'd had enough of your staring contest, he pulled you closer again by the legs. He leaned down to capture your lips in a heated, needy kiss, each one of his hands being placed beside your head to support his body while it covered yours.

Your hips were aligned, and he purposefully let his throbbing cock brush your soaked heat, giving you a little taste. It all felt so good, so right. Your arms went around his neck while they could, tugging him close, pressing your chests together, squeezing your breasts against him.

"Pull out, right?" He mumbled into your mouth, his eyes looking hazy. You nodded lazily. "M'kay."

He reached down in betwen you, not wanting to separate his body from yours, he wanted to feel the heat of your chests together. Carefully, he slid the head of his dick in between your folds, dipping it in your juices and rubbing it on your clit to make you even more needy for it, and then slowly, he slid the tip into you, a satisfied groan leaving his mouth. It was surreal, it already felt so good and he wasn't even all the way in.

You sighed in satisfaction, your eyes closing and your head tipping back against the pillow. You scratched his back gently, the slow scrape of your nails on his skin matching the languid rhythm he used to slide into you, stretching out your channel with ease. You were so fucking wet. He was met with no resistance, you wanted him there.

Despite being your first time together, it didn't feel awkward. It didn't feel confusing or complicated. It was him and you, just like always. Comfortable.

He let you adjust to his size, his lips peppering your jaw with tender kisses as you got used to the stretch and waited for the mild burning sensation to cease. Felt so easy with him.

Jason felt you move against him, trying to fuck yourself on his cock, and he smiled on your soft skin. He pushed up again to look down at you, his arms still on either side of your head. With your legs around his hips, he started moving, meticulously thrusting into you, searching for the most sensitive spots, feeling every inch of your gummy, warm walls hugging his length.

It felt like heaven, finally being inside you. Everything with you was so good.

He picked up the pace as you started breathing heavier, your eyes closing as you let yourself enjoy every single thing about this moment, about him in you. Pistoning in and out of you in a needy rhythm, he grunted and groaned so deliciously, blessing your ears with his sounds.

You felt yourself nearing the edge even more with each thrust. It all felt so intense. He mirrored your feelings, his eyes squeezing shut as he held back his own release, trying to hold up so you could come together.

Neither of you could speak at that moment, not even to mumble words of praise, the pleasure consuming your minds with equal intensity, taking up every space in your brains. You couldn't delay it anymore.

Your walls clenched around him, and you gasped, whimpered, and moaned at the sensation. You couldn't control the sounds coming out of you. Your eyes closed once again as your lips stayed parted, heavy breaths coming out of them.

As you squeezed his cock in pleasure, Jason had to muster all of his self-control to be able to pull out of you before he spilled all of his seed inside of you and fucked everything up. He couldn't break your trust like that. He pulled out, and in less than a second, his white, hot, and thick cum spilled all over your stomach and pelvis. He'd never cum like that before, so desperately. The sounds he made while he let his liquid pour over your skin without even having to milk it out with his hand were ungodly, so fucking lewd.

"Fuck," Jason gasped, his head slumping forward as he panted on top of you. "S'good." He mumbled.

You cracked a small smile at that, fingers going back to scratching his back when you could finally concentrate on something other than your orgasm taking over your body.

"So good." You echoed, eyes closing as he rested his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in the mixture of your scent with the smell of sex in the air.

"I'm not moving from here." He warned in another lazy mumble, his arms snaking around your waist. You chuckled at him.

"Okay." You muttered softly, one of your hands going to play with his hair. "We'll stay here."

"We'll stay here." He echoed your words as well, letting out a tired yet satisfied sigh.

Your eyes drifted up for the window for a second, and you noticed it was snowing again outside. It was all so magical, even if you were feeling sweaty and sticky.

You sighed, the sight of the snow falling relaxing you as well as Jason's body on top of yours, warming you up.

Wait, was the window open all this time?

☆

a.n: hello! I hope this is cohesive enough and not too too fast. it's my first time ever writing smut, so i really wanted to focus on that. thanks for reading!

#jason todd #dc comics #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood #smut #i want him #i want his dick so far down my throat it leaves bruises

151 notes · View notes

eatmyheartoutjpg · 3 days ago

Text

𓇻 𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗦 ˢᵉᵛⁱᵏᵃ ˣ ᵍⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ;; Shortfic. Platonic (can be seen as rom). You are a horrible fighter and very much weak. So, no one understands why you're the other hand of Silco, and alongside his second in command, Sevika. But one day, she stumbles back and you show off your skills. 𝘼/𝙉 ;; If you're wondering how I'm cranking these out, it's because these were sitting in my drafts and I've decided to post them after a bit of refurbishing! Also, not a big fan of this one, doesn't have a smooth flow.

11.23.24

The dim glow of neon buzzed faintly outside Silco's office. Zaun always hummed with life, but tonight, there was an edge to it—a tension that hung heavy in the air. You sat quietly in the corner, as you often did, thumbing through a well-worn medical journal that had somehow survived the grime of the Undercity. Silco was across the room, doing his usual paperwork. Both of you remained silent, the only sounds being his pen scratching paper or the flipping of your pages.

Silco didn't pick you for your combat skills—everyone knew that. You weren't Sevika, with her mechanical arm and ruthless efficiency, nor were you one of the brash enforcers who made Piltover's elites shudder. You were soft, meek even, compared to them. The whispering never stopped. "Why keep a fragile little thing like that so close?"

You didn't care at all, you're only here to work.

The door slammed open, and Sevika staggered in, the floorboards loudly squeaking underneath her weight. Blood seeped through a gash in her side, staining her coat. She leaned heavily on the doorframe, her usual air of dominance replaced by exhaustion and pain.

"Sevika." Silco's voice was sharp, but calm, as he rose from his chair. His cold eyes flicked to you. "Do something."

You were already moving, tossing your book aside and rushing to Sevika's side. She waved you off with a grunt, trying to brush past you, but her knees buckled.

"Sit down before you collapse," you snapped, uncharacteristically firm.

Her glare could've melted steel, but she complied, sinking into a chair. "Don't need a damn babysitter," she muttered, clutching her side.

"You need stitches," you said, pulling open your satchel. You always carried it, just in case—gloves, thread, antiseptic, syringes, and tools you'd cobbled together over the years. "And maybe a tetanus shot if whatever stabbed you wasn't clean."

You snapped on your gloves, stretching them around your fingers. You seemed oddly calm, as if this were routine.

"How do you even—?" Sevika started, but winced as you pressed gauze against the wound.

"Hold still." Your hands moved with precision, cleaning the wound and threading the needle. You heard her grunt in pain. "This would be easier if you stopped squirming." You felt the warmth of her blood coating your gloves.

Silco watched from the corner, silent but attentive. His gaze was calculating, as though measuring you against some invisible scale.

Sevika's breathing steadied as you worked. Her grumbles softened into a grudging silence, and when you tied off the final stitch, she finally spoke. "

You're good at this," she admitted, though her tone was reluctant. She never knew you could do this. She's never seen you work.

"Better than being good at fighting, don't you think?"

Silco’s lips twitched—just barely—but it was the closest thing to a smile you’d seen from him. "Better indeed," he murmured.

Sevika leaned back in her chair, examining your work. "Guess I owe you one," she said gruffly, though her tone suggested she wasn't thrilled about it.

You shrugged, collecting your things. "Just doing my job."

For the first time, the room was silent—not out of suspicion or derision, but respect.

The quiet between the three of you didn't last long. Sevika shifted in her chair, grimacing as she tested her side. "Still hurts like hell," she grumbled, though there was less edge to her tone.

"That's because you're not a machine, Sevika, no matter how much that arm makes you think you are," you replied without missing a beat, gathering the bloodied gauze and tossing it the nearby bin before tugging off your gloves in suit. "You'll need to take it easy for a few days. No heavy lifting, no bar brawls, no running headfirst into walls,” You paused, turning to your employer, Silco, "And work no jobs." You saw Silco narrow his gaze before nodding in agreement before you turned your head back at Sevika. "Understood?"

Her laugh was sharp, almost incredulous. "Take it easy? You do realize who you're talking to, right?"

She doesn't take orders from you, Silco has to say it himself.

You raised an eyebrow, unbothered. "I do. And I also know if you pop those stitches, you'll be right back here begging me to patch you up again. And I don't like beggars." You spoke in a lightly mocking tone.

Sevika started to retort, but Silco cut her off. "Sevika." His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of finality. "You'll do as they say. You're no good to me half-dead."

For a moment, Sevika looked like she might argue, but she thought better of it. Instead, she leaned back in the chair with a huff, the cushion collapsing behind her. She muttered something under her breath about "soft hands" and "too many rules."

Silco turned his attention to you, his mismatched eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you.

You straightened, feeling his gaze like a weight on your shoulders. "I know how to keep people alive." You did not turn around, instead keeping your eyes transfixed on Sevika, looking for any hints of discomfort.

"And that, it seems, is worth more than I gave it credit for," he replied, his tone softening just slightly. "Zaun needs fighters, yes. But it also needs people who can mend what others break."

Sevika snorted, crossing her arms. "You're lucky, y'know," she said, nodding toward you. "Most people like you wouldn't last a day down here. Seems you got the skill to.”

You didn't reply, instead focusing on cleaning your tools. You weren't one to bask in attention, at least of all from the likes of Sevika or Silco. Still, her words lingered in the air, carrying an odd mix of grudging respect and curiosity.

"I'd rather keep it that way."

Her huff was faint, hesitant. “Thanks... doc.” You weren't the bruiser, the muscle, or the enforcer. But you were something else, something Zaun desperately needed. And Silco knew it. That's why he kept you close.

ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane fanfic #arcane series #fanfiction #fanfic #headcanon #wholesome #gn reader #cute #arcane season 2 #arcane season two #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika

139 notes · View notes

kierandayern · 2 days ago

Note

hi, nice bumping into ya! so I was wondering what's Noan relationship chart looks like?

Aaa haven't really made a proper relationship chart for Noan yet so imma just type it out here for now kekekek

Crowe <<< best friend Noan

Crowe in love/best friend>>> Noan

-One of the first few friends Noan made in freshmen year

-Noan had a happy crush on him the first few weeks but eventually died down and only views him in a platonic way now, on the other hand Crowe...

-Noan is grateful to have Crowe but his side as he had helped him on many occasions and Noan feels rather indebted to him even though Crowe often reassured him that he didn't want anything in return...

Sol <<<old schoolmates/chill Noan

-Crowe just wished Noan wasn't so harsh on himself, he WANTS to take care of him even if Noan didn't want his help, often insisting he can do everything himself

-Noan absolutely hated physical touch but Crowe holding his hand during episodes really brings a huge sense of comfort

Sol w̵͓̯̍̑h̶̝͜͠a̵̳̼͂ẗ̴̹ ̶̘̣̇͘ṱ̵̏h̴̬̓ę̷̃ ̴̭͎̒͋f̴̞̈́ù̸̥̬̾c̸̜̰̏k̴̰̗̎>>> Noan

-anyways... (lmao)

-Used to go to the same highschool and Sol knew Noan before he was even known as 'Noan'

-When Sol saw Noan in freshmen year he thought he looked very familiar and kept watching him, eventually turning into obsession

-Noan also doesn't recognize Sol much because he had looked different in highschool

-he thinks Sol is a pretty cool guy

-admittedly Noan developed a small crush over Sol on their first encounter but as time passed by Noan just brushes it off as just admiration

-These two losers always having a geek session on the topic of classical literature (*sigh* artists...)

Hyugo <<<chill Noan

Hyugo chill>>> Noan

-Noan met Hyugo through Sol

-Would bump into each other in the hallway and have some small talk

-Hyugo would sometimes tease Noan over the fact that his clothes looked similar to the student council uniforms

Geo <<<chill Noan

Geo neutral/chill>>> Noan

-They're just casual acquaintances who talk to each other on some occasions though it mostly just about academic stuff

-Noan and Geo are in the same class

-Geo may not show it but he appreciates it when Noan offers to help the group during hell weeks so sometime he goes out of his way to get Noan some chamomile tea whenever he sees Noan visibly exhausted

-(Geo is def the type of dude who's secretly nice and attentive but chooses to hide it, hes just a lil' shy chat xD)

Deryl <<<chill/friends Noan

Deryl chill/friends>>> Noan

-The two get along quite well, got closer thanks to Crowe introducing him to the circle

-Worships the ground that Noan walks on whenever Noan helps him with his schoolwork (esp when he gets busy w sports tournaments and has to head outside the university)

-homies help homies 🤝

-bro dances in front of the bathroom stall to distract ppl from the sound of Noan changing his pad lol

Britney <<<chill Noan

Britney chill>>> Noan

-They get along through their matching interest with japanese fashion

-Gyaru enthusiast 🤝 Ouji enthusiast

-Noan would sometimes help with styling Britney's hair and in return Britney would paint Noan's nails :D

Jessy <<<chill Noan

Jessy neutral/chill>>> Noan

-Study buddies

-Jessy tried to get Noan into the idol bandwagon but it wasn't really Noan's thing, still pretty respectful w it even though he doesn't really understand lmao

#ask scherbakova 🖋️💤#tkatb #the kid at the back #the kid at the back vn #tkatb vn

118 notes · View notes

fatuismooches · 14 hours ago

Text

On a rare outing outside of the lab, Dottore introduces you to some of his "friends."

(In other words, Dottore is secretly a corvid lover [also cats but that's for another day] and helps you befriend the little guys because you're a lil jealous. Fragile reader. Also a lil body worship at the end because he's soft ueueue - he undresses you so non-sexual nudity as well, also kisses your thighs a lot.)

Going outside was always a special occasion for you.

It had taken ages upon ages to convince Dottore to let you roam the snowy landscape, and it was only recently when he finally let up. Your health was one of the few things he refused to change his stance on, extremely hesitant to take risks unlike his other experiments. Even a tray of his favorite sweets and a shoulder massage daily couldn't shake his will.

However, it was inevitable that one day he'd have to change his mind. Nothing could last forever, and that included your smile, especially considering your condition. But Dottore would, to his utmost ability, make it last as long as it could. And that meant eventually giving up his long-held conviction if it was ultimately for your benefit. Dull eyes and solemn looks from you were a sight he'd prefer to keep unfamiliar.

And so, with much preparation and thought, and confused agents thrust out of the lab to shovel snow in advance, he had introduced you to the real Snezhnaya. The Harbinger had yet to take you to towns and such, settling for just the surrounding area in the middle of nowhere, but it was still enjoyable. In truth, it had actually become some sort of treat even for him and his segments, being able to see you like this. Your wide eyes sparkling with curiosity, his hand firmly planted on yours, you two taking turns talking at lengths about many things. (Thankfully, the snow seemed to magically ease up on these outings, courtesy of Her Highness of course.)

Today was one such occasion. He had decided that a breath of fresh air would do you some good, and so the two of you were walking a familiar path that never bored you. Though, every time you two would walk a little further than before or deviate a bit from the normal course.

However, if you had to complain about one thing, it was the extent of how Dottore bundled you up for the weather. Seriously, you probably had every type of gear possible for the weather on and you probably looked a bit ridiculous, but you know what, it was worth it. Unsuccessfully throwing snowballs at Dottore and being unable to escape him was worth it.

You were still growing used to the cold blowing against your face, but regardless you still appreciated the fresh air. You never realized how stuffy the lab could get until finally tasting a few snowflakes. And the trees, the wildlife, the sky, the clouds, Dottore taking a break with you, the way his hair would be dusted with snowflakes... everything was wonderful!

But the peacefulness was suddenly interrupted by loud cawing that sounded awfully close. It nearly made you jump a bit, pulling away from being cuddled into your lover's arm. Dottore, however, didn't look fazed and instead paused with a sigh.

"It looks like they're here again," he sounded a bit fed up but you could also detect some underlying affection, an unheard-of occurrence except when it came to you.

"What do you-" Before you could finish your sentence, a sudden flash of black swooped in front of you and then circled back around you, making you start. The fluttering of wings and excited caws were loud as your husband set out his arm.

And then a magnificent black bird perched on Dottore's outstretched arm as if it belonged there, shaking off any remnants of snow. A crow, to be more specific, you think at least.

To put it briefly, you were quite speechless while Dottore acted as if this was nothing out of the usual. The crow continued cawing (in fondness if you had to guess) and hopped closer to the Harbinger's face, pecking at one of his long, thick hair bangs.

"... You had crow friends and you didn't tell me?" You sent him an utterly betrayed look. How lucky was he to somehow gain the trust of these wonderful creatures and act like it was no big deal! Dottore only scoffed in response.

"They are not my friends," the man clarified, as he continued walking ahead of you. "They began to approach my segments and I a while ago for some odd reason, and-" in the middle of that sentence, even more cawing resonated throughout the air and yet another crow swooped in, this time landing on his shoulder, "... wouldn't let up."

You had to say, he looked completely adorable like that, acting grumpy from the couple of crows that now surrounded him, even more had come to visit, playing in the snow by his feet. (Acting as if he didn't give them small pets when he was alone.)

If only you had your Kamera, this would be an excellent photo for your collection. Another crow had flown up to his arm and had come with a single Mora coin in its beak.

"Wow... they bring you gifts!" You watched in amazement as the bird placed the gold coin in Dottore's palm.

"Occasionally. Just shiny things of little value," he replied as he stroked the crow with a single finger that clicked happily in response.

Well, even after four hundred years, you still learn something new about your husband every day, huh... could you call him a crow whisperer? Though you were content watching the scene from the side, you did desire a bit of attention too.

"Come closer," Dottore beckoned you closer and you slowly inched your way to him, a bit afraid of driving the birds away. At least they seemed to trust you a tiny bit, considering how close you were with Dottore...? Maybe.

"Here," out of nowhere he had produced a small bag of unsalted nuts for you to feed them. He said they're not his friends and yet he bought food for them... yeah right... but you didn't comment.

Immediately, the crows' attention was on the delicacy you held in your hands. You didn't think they'd trust you enough to eat from your palm, so you placed them further in front of you. The birds cocked its head and cawed at one another before cautiously approaching the nuts you had offered to them. You wondered if they were discussing you.

"They don't like me as much as you..."

"Yet," Dottore corrected you. "It's only natural for them to be wary. They've just met you." That was definitely true, but you were also convinced Dottore had a special knack for this. Lucky him... you wanted to pet a crow too. Your disappointment was always obvious to your husband as he offered you a solution.

"We can come again tomorrow and visit them if that's what you wish." You instantly brightened and would have tackled him then and there were it not for the crows perched on him.

"Yes, please!"

—

By the time you got back, all the excitement had left you feeling tired and in need of rest, probably a nap. And even with some layers on, the cold still seeped into your body, making your muscles a bit stiff, but thankfully Dottore always made sure your room was well-heated. Still, you were feeling a bit too tired to start removing all of the clothes you had on. Though your husband was already on the case, his hands on your shoulders.

"You don't need to," you tried to convince him but Dottore rarely ever took 'no' for an answer.

"I want to," he stated firmly before peeling off your sweater and setting it to the side.

"Thanks," you murmured shyly as he removed the rest of your upper-body clothing, and then got to work pulling off the rest, leaving you nearly nude save for your underwear. You awkwardly played with your fingers, a bit too nervous to make eye contact with him as he shuffled about for a new change of clothes for you. But soon enough he was back with something warm.

Dottore kneeled down in front of you (the very act of that made you heat up a great amount) and patiently pulled up a pair of socks on you. You still focused your attention elsewhere - you could never seem to look at your husband properly when you were this exposed in front of him, so you would just wait until he fully clothed you again.

That was until he decided to lather your legs in kisses. You had almost not realized it until he began to graze you with his teeth, bringing the tiniest bit of pain to your pleasure, emitting a squeak from you.

"A-Ah! Hey, what are you..." you turned your head to squint at him, and the words went dry at the sight before you. There he was, kneeling before you as he cupped the heel of your feet while his face was nuzzled into your calf (in part to prevent you from kicking him accidentally, yes, you had done that before - poor, poor, Beta...)

"... Doing." Your words had come out with far less bite than you originally planned. Dottore was obviously aware of this considering the smirk on his face. The man only hummed in response, seemingly thinking of a good response when in reality he was just taking the opportunity to trace along your body some more. His languid yet heated touch made you feel like you were burning up with embarrassment.

"I'm going to get cold, so you best hurry up," you tried to sway him to rid yourself of his intent stare but of course, nothing ever worked with this man.

"Is that so?" Dottore questioned before suddenly yanking you so that your thighs were hanging off the bed some more, making you yelp. "Your body seems quite warm to me," he observed sinking his fingers into your thighs before placing another kiss in between them. The worst part was that he wasn't even wrong.

You let out a content sigh as he continued to nip and kiss your thighs and stroke the sensitive flesh, not bothering to fight it anymore as your hand had found its rightful place buried between his soft hair.

"So good for me, aren't you? Now just relax..." His words were somewhat of a drug that made your eyes flutter and your body melt. It was a bit embarrassing as to how easy he got you to agree, but at least it went both ways.

Dottore's hand then wandered up to your chest and pressed it against where your heart lay, feeling the beat of it against his palm, worshipping you like how the most faithful believer would worship their Archon - no, perhaps even more, the concept of divinity paled in comparison to you. Yes, the Gods left an unpleasant taste in his mouth, but you would do just perfectly.

And who were you to deny him that?

... Yeah, you could definitely get used to this treatment some more.

#smooches talks #dottore love notes <3 #fragile reader <3 #dottore x reader #i just think reader and dottore have crow feeding dates #sniffs... cries.... sobs... i miss him #also i love the ideas of animals having a soft spot for dottore and vice versa im sorry #it just makes me happy IDCCCCC #his friends... :)#can u see how i started watching crow vids #they're so cute #i want crow friend...#divider by cafekitsune

92 notes · View notes

sleepyparalysisdmon · 1 day ago

Text

Home

Boo Seungkwan lost his first love to his career. Don’t get me wrong, he loves his job and couldn’t really imagine doing anything else. But sometimes it’s suffocating, and draining, and restrictive. He often wonders how things could have been different.

Word count: 3k

Genre: exes to lovers, angst, fluff

Requested? Yes!

TW/CW: mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of overwork

Seungkwan met you at a coffee shop when he was 16. He was a trainee, spending long, grueling hours in vocal trainings and dance practice. An end to his trainee days was possibly in sight because there was a chance to finally debut. But that wasn’t promised at the time, so he enjoyed his moments to sneak away to the coffee shop down the street for a breather and perhaps even a slight reality check that the world did indeed continue to move outside of the four walls he was stuck in most days.

You introduced yourself to him first. You said you’d seen him in this coffee shop every now and then, and wanted to say hi. He’d noticed you there a few times studying, but had assumed you didn’t notice him. He hadn’t been brave enough to introduce himself. He was still even more shocked when you admitted that you thought he was cute. He was a little shy at 16 and swept up by the feeling of a first love right away. You weren’t his first kiss, but you were his first everything else and he fell fast.

Then it came time to finally debut. You cheered him on from home. The company strongly discouraged having public relationships, citing the safety of everyone involved, and at the age of 17, it seemed sensible to both you.

You were also exceedingly patient with how little you saw or spoke to him. At least, in the beginning. It started as an ‘of course, stay as late as you need to’, or ‘no problem, I’ll stay up. Call me when you’re free’.

But then those late practices ran right through things like birthdays or date nights that had been booked weeks in advance. And the phone calls late at night when he was finally free were getting shorter and shorter, before finally stopping altogether.

He knew the distance growing between the two of you worried you, but he was frustrated by that. Frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t do anything to help it. Frustrated by the fact that he seemed to live at work rather than at the dorm, much less finding time to visit with you. Frustrated by the fact that even when you could visit him when he was busy, things were strained because weeks had passed since you two had a decent conversation and neither of you really knew what was going on with the other.

He accidentally took that frustration out on you one too many times. You’d send a short ‘okay’ when he cancelled plans over text and he knew you were upset. You’d sigh when he had to cut a phone call short. You stopped expecting him to show up, and when he did, your surprised look stung.

One fateful day, you both had fought. He’d ranted - ‘you don’t get the pressure I’m under’ and ‘maybe this won’t work out if you won’t support me’ amongst some other jabs. Deep down, he’d kind of hoped you had a solution he was missing. But instead, you had sighed and agreed that maybe it wouldn’t work. You’d wished him luck in his career and stepped out of his life quietly. He was 19.

He didn’t notice the absence at first and he hates that that’s the case. Things moved fast for the first couple years as the group attempted to gain some footing, and he was far too busy zipping from here to there, crashing in his dorm bed or a hotel room at the first free moment for some much needed rest. He didn’t think about much of anything besides work and what was next on his schedule back then.

When the group found a little bit of breathing room, that’s when he realized the weight of his mistake. He felt stupid for it, really. Something happens, funny or not, and he’s pulling up your contact before he remembers that he hasn’t spoken to you in years. He always closes his contacts and finds something else to do.

The nights are the worst. That would have been when both of you would usually talk, or if he was feeling bold, sneak out to see each other for a little bit. He knows he should be sleeping because he has important things to do tomorrow. He almost always has important things things to do tomorrow. He knows you’d tell him that if everything is important, then nothing is truly important. But he hasn’t been able to sort those things out in a while.

But still, sleep evades him and he’ll stare up at the ceiling for hours. He tries not to scroll on his phone very much in these moments, if only to not set back the possibility of sleep. But a ding on his nightstand regularly gets his attention in these moments.

It’s an Instagram notification. He follows you from his private account. He’s sure you know it’s him, but you still accepted his follow request years ago and even followed back. He’s embarrassed sometimes when he thinks about how fast he set up notifications for your posts when you accepted his request. This is one of those notifications.

You’re a night owl. You always have been. Most of the time lately, you’re up late studying. He opens the notification to find that that’s not the case tonight. He finds that you’re out barhopping - it’s Saturday after all. He sees a few photos of you and your friends.

And one with a guy with his arm around your shoulders, holding you close.

It stings in a way that it shouldn’t, so he closes the app and puts the phone back on the charger. He didn’t know you were seeing anyone. Not that you’d tell him. Not a single message has been shared between the two of you since breaking up.

He wonders if this guy has a job that he can make time for you with. One that he can be public with you and still keep. Or maybe he’s a student, which means he can relate to the pressure you’re under. Something Seungkwan wasn’t great at for the duration of your relationship. It’s funny how he was so worried about you relating to the pressure he was under, but now he recognizes he was guilty of the same thing.

He knows he’s not going to sleep anytime soon, so he goes out to the living room and turns on the TV, blue light be damned.

Seungkwan is with a few of the members working on some lyrics together. An argument has broken out about something grammar related. He’s voiced his opinion loudly. However, others have voiced their opinions loudly too, despite them being different.

His fingers itch to reach for his phone. You’d know the answer. This is your expertise. He knows you wouldn’t just answer the question. You’d pull one of the various textbooks off your bookshelf and share all the details no one really cares to know about why that’s the answer to the question.

Well - he’d care to know if you were the one telling him, but he knows better than to ask. Your text thread is five years dry now. He’s actually not sure that you still have the same number. How could he know?

Instead, he opens the browser, googling the answer like any of them could have done ten minutes ago when the original question was posed. He’s satisfied to pull a stunt like you would, in a way, when he turns the phone to them and gets to say, ‘Ha! I was right!’ Not that it matters all that much, because they’ve already decided that they’ll pick whatever flows best, regardless of what’s grammatically correct.

He thinks you might be proud of him for getting something right in a subject you care so much about. Not that he’ll ever tell you anything about it. He pockets his phone again as the conversation moves on.

He’s on a date. It’s a female idol that he’s met a few times and she’s nice. She gets the tough schedule he keeps because she keeps one herself. They’ve actually been trying to coordinate this date for many weeks now, but their schedules have not aligned until tonight. And it’s only a couple hours at that.

But still, Seungkwan tries to enjoy it. It’s the first time he’s really entertained the idea of dating in a long time. It took some convincing from a few of his group members to accept her advances. They used phrases like ’It’s just one date’ and ’What’s the worst that could happen?’ He agreed because they’re right. It shouldn’t be a big deal.

The thing is, as great as it is that she understands his work, he doesn’t want to talk about it. He spends 90% of his time talking about it already. But he finds out pretty quickly that they don’t have much else in common to discuss. He also finds himself biting his tongue to hold in some smart ass comments here and there. He’s not sure how she’d take any of his attitude.

You used to tell him he was so sweet sometimes and then would turn a little sour. Not for the worst, you’d cry out. Just that he enjoyed sarcasm and a little teasing or side eyeing from time to time. He doesn’t think this girl would care much for that, so he plays nice, even though he’s not being totally honest with himself. Banter was such a key element to his relationship with you and he misses it. It feels like a sort of requirement for a relationship to him.

He goes back to the dorm after the two hours are up and is pretty certain he won’t be going out with her again. He just prays that there were no cameras around for this date, because he’d like to sweep this under the rug. He thinks about you might say if a tabloid picked up such a story about him. He rejects the thought. Surely, you don’t even follow what he or his group is up to. Even if you did, why would you care after all this time?

He’s gotten drunk with some of the members. They have a few days off and opted to unwind with a few drinks, but a few drinks became way more and he’s stumbling back into the dorm at nearly 2am. The alcohol makes him feel unburdened in a way that he doesn’t feel often. Years into his career, he often feels weighed down by the responsibility, by the lack of privacy, by the constant traveling. He constantly has to be on top of his game. He wants to go home sometimes and truly rest, but home isn’t really a place he can define anymore.

He’s trying though, in his drunk mind as he lies in bed, feet hanging off the edge at an angle with the covers twisted underneath him. It’s not really Jeju anymore, though he loves getting to go back and visit. It’s not really the dorms or Seoul in general, though his members themselves have become a home in their own way here. It occurs to him like a lightening strike that he wants to come home to someone. He wants a partner to share a life with. That’s an element that has been absent for the most of his career so far.

He face palms hard when his first thought is you. It’s so silly, even in his drunk mind, because it’s been nearly seven years now. You’re largely inactive on social media anymore, so he has no idea what you’re up to. You could be married with kids by now for all he knows. The idea makes tears prick in his eyes and he’s reaching for the phone before he thinks better of it.

At the first ring, he realizes he doesn’t even know if this is your number anymore, but by the second and third ring, he’s getting comfortable with the rhythm. Eventually, voicemail picks up, and his eyes widen because it’s your voice on the other line, albeit recorded. It makes him cry a little more, but some sense is coming back to him because he doesn’t even know what he would say. He hangs up just after the beep to record his message.

You don’t call him back. That’s a blessing and a curse in a way. The next morning, he hadn’t remembered making the call, but your contact with the call history is the first thing he sees when he opens his phone the next morning. He had groaned and put his phone on Do Not Disturb because he wasn’t ready to find out if you’d return the call in his hungover state.

But time starts to tick by and it’s radio silence. A week later, he’s still checking his phone every now and then, looking for something, anything. Chan gives him a look when he checks his phone during a break at dance practice for the dozenth time. “Expecting something?” He asks.

Seungkwan shakes his head. “No, not really.”

Chan is silent for a long beat before he glances around to check for any members standing too close to them. “Are you good? You’ve been off all week.”

Seungkwan blinks at him. “Off? What do you mean?”

Chan shrugs, struggling to find the right words. “Dazed? Distracted? I don’t know. And you’ve been checking your phone every 30 seconds like clockwork.”

Seungkwan hesitates, also glancing around for any prying eyes or eavesdropping ears. His group members, particularly the older ones, would be so nosy about this sort of thing. “I called her.”

Chan’s eyes flare. He doesn’t ask who Seungkwan is referring to. “Oh? After all this time?”

“I was drunk and not thinking straight,” Seungkwan sighs, tossing his phone back into his bag. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I haven’t gotten anything from her, so that’s a sign itself.”

Chan looks sympathetic. “I don’t know. Life gets in the way sometimes. Maybe she’s just been busy. Or doesn’t know what to say. Do you?”

The practice is being called back to order, but Seungkwan can’t help but think that life really does get in the way sometimes. It got in the way seven years ago. That’s the whole reason he’s anxious to find out if you’ll reach out to him. Chan’a right though. He has no clue what he’d say.

Weeks later, they get another rare day off after many late nights preparing for a comeback. Seungkwan visits that coffee shop from years ago with Chan and Vernon. The label’s offices have moved since they debuted, so this is a special occasion to visit an old haunt, not just for Seungkwan but for all of them. They get their drinks and find a table.

Vernon is mid-sentence when Chan perks up, looking behind Seungkwan. He slaps Vernon on the shoulder and then they’re both looking. Seungkwan is about to turn when Chan stops him. “No, don’t look yet! I need you to relax first.”

“Why?” Seungkwan narrows his eyes.

“I think you’re about to find out what she thinks of that phone call,” Chan says, standing up from the table. Vernon follows suit, and Seungkwan is thankful for the warning when you replace them on the other side of the table.

You’re not a teenager anymore and more grown into your features, but there are a lot of things that are still the same, namely your smile. “Seungkwan?” You ask. Your voice still sounds like the voicemail he heard last month.

“Hey,” he tries to say lightly but some anxiety is starting to build. He decides to aim for friendly and try to match your mood. “It’s been a long time! How have you been?”

“Good, good. And you? I hear you stay pretty busy, being an international popstar and all,” you say lightly without an ounce of awkwardness. It makes some of the tension leak out of Seungkwan’s body and he laughs.

“Yeah, something like that. Do you want to sit?”

You do, and it surprises him. He kind of expected you to say hi and then get on your way fast. “You didn’t answer my question,” you say. He’s not surprised that you call him out. Whatever attitude he could dish out back then, you could dish it right back out. It was part of the appeal back then (and still might be, judging by how his heart races).

Seungkwan shrugs, trying to be nonchalant, but he’s panicking because he never thought he’d see or hear from you again. “I’m good, I guess. Kind of hard to know for sure with how busy things are sometimes.”

You nod understandingly. “But you’re majorly successful. I’m proud of you, you know? I get to brag that I dated you way back when.”

He knows you’re teasing about that last part, but it still makes him flush a little. “Is it worth bragging rights if it didn’t work out?”

“Of course,” you say quickly and it sound genuine. “You’re a good guy and you always have been.” You look a little hesitant for a moment. “I’m sorry we lost contact. It was all so fresh in the beginning and then life just kept moving, sweeping me away with it.”

Seungkwan chuckles. “Yeah, I get that. I have no idea what you’re up to now a days.”

You look a little pensive, biting your lip, before finally asking, “Is that why you called a while back?”

Seungkwan wishes the ground would open up underneath him. He purses his lips. “I’m sorry about that. I was drinking and got carried away.”

“And… called an ex girlfriend from seven years ago?” You look both entertained and confused by the concept, and he can’t help but feel the same. If one of his group members pulled something like this, he’d surely never let them live it down. That’s why the ones that know are Chan and perhaps Vernon, judging by how he didn’t look surprised by where this interaction was going.

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m sorry,” he repeats. Then he tries to crack a smile. “No angry boyfriend or husband that will be after me for the slip-up?”

This does make you laugh. “No. No boyfriend or husband, period. You’re good. I was just dead to the world that night and then had a busy couple of weeks.”

“Oh, you didn’t owe me a call back. I shouldn’t have reached out like that in the first place,” Seungkwan excuses.

You purse your lips. “What if I wanted to call you back?” Seungkwan blinks a few times and it must give the wrong impression, because you’re backpedaling. “Forget that, please. If you didn’t mean to reach out, that’s okay.” You have your hands on the table like you might push up out of your seat and leave now.

Seungkwan’s words die on the tip of his tongue and he huffs, giving you a semi sarcastic look. “What is happening here?”

It makes you burst into a little giggle. “I don’t know.” You huff back when the giggles die down. “Maybe we can just start with coffee?”

Seungkwan smiles. “I’d like that.”

Seungkwan busts into the apartment, throwing his bag down. “I’m sorry I’m late! Practice ran over a bit.”

You’re on the couch with your laptop in front of you. You smile up at him over the screen. “It’s okay, Kwan. You said it might.”

Seungkwan collapses on the couch beside you and you set the laptop to the side so that he can wrap himself around you. “Are you sure you’re not mad?”

You run a hand through his hair, still a little damp with sweat. “Yes, baby. I promise I’m okay.”

Ever since getting back together, Seungkwan had been incredibly careful to try to strike a balance between his work and personal life. You hadn’t asked for it, and had even expressed that maybe you gave him a hard time the first time around. But, still, he recognized how unimportant it might have made you feel, and he’s diligent now about letting you know not only his schedule for work, but that he’d rather be with you any time of day. He checks in constantly and you tell him it’s refreshing and entirely different than before. But still, you’ve been understanding when some things can’t be helped, like tonight.

He buries his face into your neck, breathing in the smell of you - your soap, your shampoo, your perfume. It’s comforting. It’s home. The thought makes him tear up a bit and you notice right away when he lifts his head to look at you.

“Tough day?” You ask gently. He thinks it’s nice that you hand him an excuse like that, so he takes it, nodding. You press a kiss to his cheek. “You stink. Go shower. When you come back, we’ll cuddle and watch a movie.”

Seungkwan groans, pushing you away from him. “Fine.”

As he goes into your bedroom and pulls some of his clothes out of one of your drawers, his drawer, he thinks he really is thankful to have found a home in you.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #Seungkwan #boo Seungkwan #Seungkwan x reader #boo Seungkwan x reader

55 notes · View notes

bunnysdollette · 2 days ago

Text

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁ start acting your age and not your shoe size love 👟✨

⟢ hey my wonderful angels! here are a few tips to start building maturity and stop doing little girl activities. this is your wake up call. the faster you realize this, the better

(also love this photo of brina)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ GET SERIOUS ABOUT YOUR GOALS

in this life I would say there’s about a 5% of people that actually become successful and fulfilled. which one do you want to be; the person who is happy and living comfortably years from now or the person that chose to follow what everyone else was doing like a sheep and ignored what they wanted to accomplish?

NO goal is too difficult. NO dream is too big. Muhammad Ali once said, ``If your dreams don't scare you, they aren't big enough.'' So get serious about what you want in life or be left behind in the dust.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ STRIVE TO BE AN INDIVIDUAL

It’s OKAY to be different. Our differences are what make us unique and capable of what the next person can’t. Your strengths and your weaknesses will both push you forward in life if you learn how to use them properly.

You have to strive to take pride in your differences and be confident when people challenge your identity. Because at the end of the day the only person that knows YOU best is YOU. When you develop that confidence and self-assured mindset that nobody can tell you who you are because you already do, NOBODY can take that away from you.

Stop following the rest of the flock. If there’s something you dream about or want to accomplish that’s outside of the norm, that’s where your purpose probably lies. If you are a person different from the collective, you are meant for bigger things.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LEARN WHEN AND HOW YOU SHOULD RESPOND

there’s a time and place for everything. I’m not saying you shouldn’t respond to disrespect, because that makes it like other people can do the same to you and you won’t do anything, but depending on the severity of the situation, sometimes it’s just better to ignore that shit.

if there are people you know who are partaking in these little kid activities like making up silly lies about you, trying to get you to fight them or argue with them, DO NOT feed into that.

They will call you scared, stupid, or whatever else, but that’s all because they’re mad they can’t get that reaction out of you. If someone is trying to take you off of your path, the last thing you should do is spend even an ounce of energy on them.

Your energy is sacred. Use it wisely.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ STAY FOCUSED ON WHAT MATTERS

one of my favorite quotes ever is “it is what it is”. Whoever came up with that quote was extremely wise because it’s the exact embodiment of staying focused and not worrying about little kid shit that nobody will remember in the next five years.

What is Important to you? Drama, trying to conform, chasing things that aren’t meant for you, or reaching your goals, achieving success, and achieving fulfillment?

YOUR values should dictate YOUR life. You can’t say you want to become “that girl” and “level up your life” then turn around and invest so much energy in unnecessary shit that serves you no purpose.

And don’t think I’m saying this with any level of elitism or like I’m better because I’m saying this, I’m not. We all have shit to work on. But some of you have a lot more work to do than others and a lot more work to do to stay on the right path. This is your sign. Stop that nonsense

58 notes · View notes

mythalism · 2 days ago

Note

There’s a theory going around (what with DATV shut out of the game awards) that the writing sucks so hard because EA or BioWare forced an AI rewrite after firing a chunk of the writing staff. I won’t say I fully beleive it, but I will admit that quite a lot of the dialogue in Veilguard feels…off. It’s hard to really describe.

I know EA had mentioned wanting to use AI writing in their games, but I figured that meant future games. Any thoughts on this?

this is devastating to me but i hate to say... i can see it. and feel it, more importantly, which i think is the key with AI. a few things that make this seem plausible to me are that bluesky post from epler that has since been deleted talking about how he agreed with the biggest criticism of veilguard (without specifying what he was referencing) was something he agreed with, and trick and another dev chimed in and added that not only did they all agree, but they tried to fight it and lost. we are never going to know exactly what this was referencing, but i think it does allow us to infer that there was a significant amount of friction between EA and bioware. the kotaku article on vg's development from 2019 also has a rather telling couple of lines: "I kept hearing one interesting sentiment from current and former BioWare staff: They felt like the weirdos in EA’s portfolio, the guys and gals who made nerdy role-playing games as opposed to explosive shooters and big sports franchises. BioWare games never sold quite as well as the FIFAs and Battlefields of the world, so it never felt like they could get quite as many resources as their colleagues at other studios. High-ranking BioWare staff openly wondered: Did EA’s executives really care about narrative? Did they really care about RPGs? Those questions have always lingered, and still do today." so... yeah. that feels relevant to me with this.

the second is the datamined dialogue people have been finding that reveal what is frankly a far better written game and more in-depth dialogue. some of it is still cheesy and marvel-esque, but theres so much MORE of it that shows a much more coherent vision for the plot that for some reason is just.... gone? and i have no clue why. idk if we will ever know this for sure, and it is genuinely difficult to pick out AI from any other kind of profit-focused corporate writing other than just.... intuition. you can often feel the lack of humanity within it. and considering we know what bioware writing feels like and its the reason so many of us are here on this website yapping about their stories and characters... and how veilguard feels like something is just missing... yeah. i dont think its outside of the realm of possibility

#asks

42 notes · View notes

thehollowwriter · 1 day ago

Text

I've always found it so interesting how Vil describes himself and his actions as ugly, not his appearance. I'm tired af rn so I can't really put it into words, but it's very striking that Vil, at least to me, doesn't seem to believe in outward ugliness. In fact, he simply calls people potatoes. Not ugly. Potatoes. As some analysis' pointed out, it seems to be because he seems them as spudlings who haven't yet reached their potential. Like Quartz said, he doesn't want to change everything about you. He wants you to be the best you can be.

He is, as also Quartz said, a very selfless character and he seems to strive to be more than what he's been typecast as. That's part of why he had such an extreme breakdown from his actions and called himself "ugly." He was a villain. He was behaving just like others assumed he would. And if he's no more than the roles he's been trapped in, how could he possibly defeat Neige?

But in book 6, he had his "hero" moment. What he did was a huge sacrifice to make, especially when you consider what Vil risked. He risked literally his entire future and his reputation.

There are some fans who poke fun at him for being "shallow" crying about his appearance, but... wouldn't you?

Firstly, there's Vil's career. Remember, Vil is an actor and a model. He works in two industries that are centred around beauty. You can't have wrinkles, you can't be fat, you can't be unappealing for even a second. You must conform to beauty standards at all times. That includes not just your appearance, but what you eat and what activities you partake in, since certain eating habits and hobbies are associated with certain appearances (e.g ugly gamer).

Now that he's like this... who's going to want him as a model? Who's going to want to cast him in any role outside of an evil old hag, if they want him at all? How will his fans, the faceless masses who fixate on his appearance, react? Is there any guarantee they'll stick around?

Vil's entire future has potentially gone up in flames. He's been acting and modelling since he was a small child. What else could he possibly do?

Secondly, there's the fact that Riddle just got white hair, while Vil got all of his youth sucked out of him. He was not old just in appearance, his body was old. That's his entire future suddenly severed. He's human, and humans don't live for very long compared to fae.

From Vil's perspective, the decades of life ahead of him are gone. Now, in this frail body, who knows how much time he has left? Who knows what health problems might start ailing him and taking him early?

Well gee, no wonder he's crying! He might lose everything and he might also die much sooner than expected. I hardly find that shallow.

I find the comparison of Vil to a stereotypical mean girl overall very weird. Mean girls purposefully bully and tear down others to lift themselves up. When they insult people's fashion or appearance, it's not because they think they can improve. It's because they view those people as below them. Sometimes the outfit itself isn't even bad. It's just "poor people clothing."" Mean girls are also very manipulative and will tear others down to climb up the ladder and come out on top, even if they have to cheat and lie to do so.

Vil isn't like that at all. He doesn't insult, he criticises. And like I said, he sees people's potential and wants them to live up to it. His goal is not to tear them down and make himself feel better. As far as fashion goes, Vil knows different styles work on different people, and with how his character is, he's most certainly not going to hate or bully someone for using a "poor brand" or whatever.

Vil literally refuses to cheat!!! He does not want to win against Neige through cheating, because he knows that's not truly a win. He wants to earn that win. When he tried to poison Neige, that was a complete mental breakdown and he immediately regretted it.

So yeah. Vil is a harsh, but nurturing and actually very kind and selfless guy. Leave him.

(If I got anything wrong pls forgive me I haven't read book 5 in a while. @v-anrouge you're the Vil expert pls lmk if there's anything to add or correct)

Vil yap session

#quinn quips #quinn reblogs #quinn's friends #quarts #vil schoenheit #pomefiore #twisted wonderland

263 notes · View notes

starlost-mochi-x · 15 hours ago

Text

lonely st. ✧ chapter viii : the breaking point

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader (y/n)

warnings: y/n has a bad panic attack, mentions of ed, y/n has trouble eating, felix and his mom, mentions of throwing up, medication, and racing thoughts

a/n: this chapter is really long i can't lie. i got carried away *laughs in obsessed, traumatized writer*

series masterlist | skz masterlist

"Oh, it's so warm in here," Hyunjin groaned, flopping into a chair. Y/n took a seat next to him cautiously, settling down warily and glancing around the store.

Bbokari's was exactly as Felix had said; a convenience store lined with rows and rows of snacks, household items, hygiene products, and even pet food. Not that it was uncommon, but sometimes it still threw Y/n to realise that people actually owned pets. Since she'd never had one of her own, she found herself wondering what owning an animal really entailed.

It can't be much different from taking care of Jisung, she reasoned idly.

The store lights overhead were golden, casting a warm glow over the four teens. The store was bigger than it had initially looked from the outside, with the main part of it being taken up by the shop items. A wall fridge ran along the left side of the store, filled with frozen products and treats, as well as a small, separated section for antibiotics and over-the-counter medications.

There was a small staircase up the back, lining the wall and leading up to what Y/n assumed to be Felix's house on the upper level. A countertop sat in front of it, where there were several automatic checkouts and a manual cashier box. Currently, no one was manning the cashier station.

She looked around from where she was currently sitting; this part of the store was set out like a little cafe; mismatched chairs and tables sat upon the polished, recently-cleaned wooden floors, sectioned off from the shiny linoleum of the convenience aisles.

There was a high bench with tall stools and a large window that ran the length of the wall, giving Y/n a view out into the street beyond. She could see little flowers and plants bobbing their heads and leaves against the glass, moving in the cold, post-storm wind.

On the opposite side from the window, there was another wall and a long wooden countertop, on which sat several microwaves, a kettle, a coffee maker, and a small cupboard containing tea and coffee additions. Y/n noticed there was also a large biscuit jar with a little scribbled drawing of a chicken on the glass, with 'FELIX' written underneath it.

She settled back in her chair; Felix had gone upstairs to fetch something, and had told them to wait downstairs. Jisung and Hyunjin were busy fighting over the last chip from the bag they'd nicked from Felix's lunchbox, and Y/n sat quietly and observed them, not having much else to do apart from survey her surroundings.

She turned just as Felix came down the staircase, weaving amongst the shelves before standing in front of them, breathless.

"Sorry, I had to go check where my mom was. She's out the back but she'll be in soon, so we can go upstairs."

The boys moved to get up, Jisung snatching the chip from between Hyunjin's lips, and followed Felix. Y/n did the same, weaving through the shelves and standing beside him in the middle of the snack aisle. Felix turned back to her as Jisung and Hyunjin began taking food from the shelves, clearly comfortable with their surroundings.

"Take whatever you want," he smiled at her kindly. "You don't have to pay because it's your first time here."

Y/n waved her hands, stuttering. "N-no, it's okay, I'll pay."

Felix opened his mouth to protest before a gentle, warm hand found its way onto her shoulder. Turning, she locked eyes with a taller, older woman with kindly eyes and dark hair tied up in a loose, messy knot. She smiled down at Y/n and it was immediately reminiscent of Felix's easygoing, casual grin, albeit tinged with a motherly kindness.

"Please, feel free to take whatever you like. No need to pay," she said, her voice soft and hospitable. "I insist."

Y/n's head buzzed. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting when Felix had said his mom, but it hadn't been this. She was so nice, and- normal.

"H-hi," she stuttered up at the woman, feeling like a small, lost child in the presence of this motherly figure.

Felix stepped up beside her, placing a gentle hand on Y/n's upper back. "Mom, this is Y/n. She's my new friend."

The woman nodded kindly at Y/n, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a warm smile. "Nice to meet you, Y/n. Please, call me Auntie. Everyone does."

"Okay," Y/n whispered, feeling suddenly warm at Felix's choice of phrasing. New friend.

The older woman smiled, nodding. She glanced behind the two of them to Hyunjin and Jisung, who were busy fighting yet again, this time over a packet of ramen buldak noodles.

Someone called out something from a door in the corner near the fridges, which Y/n assumed led out to the back supply area.

"Auntie, someone's calling for you," Jisung shouted cheerfully, his hands still tangled around Hyunjin's as they fought for the ramen packet.

She laughed, ruffling Felix's hair. "Thank you, Jisung. I need to go now, but have fun, Y/n. You're welcome to stay as long as you like."

She leaned down to Y/n and patted her shoulder, giving her a conspiratorial wink. "Maybe you can teach my son some manners while you're here."

"Mom," Felix protested, fighting a laugh. His mother brushed past him with a laugh even softer and went out the door, shutting it behind herself.

Felix took Y/n's shoulders and turned her towards the shelves, stocked with a variety of tasty snacks and colourful packets.

"Go on," he said encouragingly, before turning to wrestle the ramen packet out of Jisung and Hyunjin's hands.

With Felix's attention off of her, Y/n gulped, frozen in the middle of the aisle. The packaged foods seemed to taunt her with their cutesy cartoon characters and colourful patterns, and their shiny plastic coverings and packages made her eyes hurt as they shone against the golden lights hanging overhead.

She began to feel a bit sick.

Felix and his mother had insisted she take something without the need to pay for it, which meant she had to eat something. In front of Felix and his friends. And he would certainly pinpoint that something was off if she insisted she wasn't hungry. Not for the first time did she half-heartedly curse his unusually perceptive nature.

She swallowed a thick wad of saliva, trying to quell the growing grumbling in her stomach. Sucking her stomach in a little, she exhaled with some difficulty, feeling like she'd been punched hard in the gut all of a sudden.

Trying to suck air into her lungs, but feeling winded, she looked around, eyes darting increasingly quickly around the room. She looked everywhere but she couldn't see at all, unable to focus on anything but the growing buzzing sensation spreading up her neck, settling into the crevices of her hands and ankles.

She suddenly felt wobbly on her feet and her hand moved to fidget frantically with the strap of her bag, unfocused and shaky.

Hyunjin and Jisung were still whining and arguing loud enough that Y/n's frantic, uneven breathing couldn't be heard over the din. She stood, mouth parted, unable to do anything but stare at the shelf and hyperventilate, feeling absolutely stupid and pathetic.

Felix finally managed to disengage the now-crushed ramen packet from the boys' laser-tight grip and shoved them both down the aisle, scolding them lightly. Both of them disappeared around the corner to the fridges, bickering lightly about some nonsense.

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Felix deposited the colourful packet back onto its rightful place on the shelf before turning around. His eyes widened at the sight of his friend. He gazed at her in mild confusion, not understanding.

"Y/n?" He asked hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

Felix's panic grew as Y/n shook her head shakily, unable to speak. He looked around for something that might help her calm down, finding nothing but wanting nothing more than to help his friend.

Jisung's had panic attacks before, he told himself firmly, composing himself. He always said that anything cold helps to ground him. Or physical contact... But I might scare her if I touch her suddenly. Should I go get Mom? Or would that make it worse?

Hyunjin, who had come round the corner again, presumably to complain about Jisung, noticed Felix standing motionless next to a hyperventilating Y/n, his hands out, unsure and worried.

"Y/n," he whispered, his mind going blank. Dropping his bag onto the floor, Hyunjin rushed down the aisle, moving to stand next to Felix. He placed a gentle hand on Y/n's arm, her body turning slightly to seek out his touch like a drawing magnetic force.

He enveloped her in a firm, warm hug, letting his chin rest on the top of his head, him having always been taller than her. Felix touched Hyunjin's shoulder and padded down the aisle, his mind set on distracting Jisung so Hyunjin and Y/n could have some privacy.

"It's okay," Hyunjin whispered to her, feeling her hands ball in the fabric of his blazer. "Don't worry."

"I'm sorry," she gasped into him, her voice faraway and timid, broken through with heaving pants.

Hyunjin shook his head, eyes closing as he stroked her hair in a reassuring, constant pattern. "Don't be sorry. It's okay. Can you take a deep breath?"

Y/n leaned back slightly and took in a shaking, hesitant draw-in of breath, Hyunjin encouragingly patting her back.

"There you go," he cooed at her, fighting the urge to kiss the top of her head.

'I'm sorry," she whispered again.

"Don't be. What happened, hmm?"

Y/n bit her lip, face still buried in Hyunjin's chest. He was so warm, and he smelled good. In the quietest voice, so small she was sure he wouldn't hear, she spoke.

"I can't eat," she said helplessly. "It's so difficult and my mind won't stop-"

Hyunjin peered down at her, glancing over his shoulder as Jisung and Felix went up the stairs. Felix shot him a subtle wink and Hyunjin nodded, turning his attention back to Y/n.

"That's okay. Have you eaten today?"

Silence.

Hyunjin sighed. "Let's get you something small to eat, okay?"

"No," Y/n protested fearfully, stomach churning.

"Just a little bit, hmm? Maybe you should rest first. Should I walk you home?"

"No," Y/n repeated instantly. She clutched tighter at him, her face burying further into his chest. "No, no, I can't go, I-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he quieted her gently. "Let's go upstairs to the others and you can just rest, okay? They won't say anything, I promise."

Y/n's voice was sad and subdued as she replied. "I ruin everything, Hyunjinnie."

Hyunjin's heart constricted and he tilted her chin up at him, feeling affection course through his veins at her vulnerable expression. "You don't ruin anything, Y/n. I need you to know that. And I'm proud of you."

She sniffed. "But I didn't do anything."

"I'm still proud."

"Okay," she said quietly.

"Can you walk?" He asked her gently. She shook her head, taking an experimental step.

She could walk, but she felt that any sort of effort-draining movement like walking or going up the stairs would probably make her disintegrate into little Y/n-shaped pieces on the linoleum. And if she was being honest, she didn't really feel like letting go of Hyunjin. She expected him to step back and tell her that she would be fine, and that she could walk up the stairs herself. Either that, or if he was feeling kind, he would take her arm and guide her up the stairs.

What she hadn't expected was Hyunjin looping an arm around the backs of her knees and putting the other around her shoulders before lifting her bridal-style from the ground with little to no effort at all.

"Hyunjin," she squeaked, clutching his shoulder, deathly afraid of falling.

He just chuckled and began walking up the stairs, holding her close to his torso. Y/n looked up at him, feeling the buzzing in her hands and feet subside as it was replaced with Hyunjin's warmth, bleeding into her body and caressing her skin through her uniform.

She leant her head cautiously on his shoulder, and Hyunjin was glad her head was laid on the right side of his torso, so she wouldn't be able to feel his heart practically beating out of his chest.

He set her down at the top of the stairs, pushing her gently into the large, open-plan living room. There was a small countertop sectioning off a kitchenette in the far corner, and two doors led into what Y/n assumed to be Felix's and his mother's separate rooms. There was a door on the opposite side that presumably led to a bathroom.

Ahead of them, Jisung and Felix sat on a plush couch facing a TV on a long, low cabinet, and sunlight spilled in great amounts through the mid-to-ceiling length window next to it.

There was a smaller, low table in front of the couch and Jisung was eagerly leaning on it as he pressed the buttons on his controller, apparently playing some sort of game with Felix on the TV. There was a fluffy, creamy, well-worn rug under the coffee table, matching the colour of the walls.

All of the furniture was cream, beige, or a light shade of brown, save for the mismatched cushions on the couch, making the room seem as bright, comforting, and cheery as Felix's warm smile.

Jisung groaned as his character took damage, sagging back onto the foot of the couch. He looked across and gestured Hyunjin and Y/n over.

"Wanna play?" He asked, offering the controller to Y/n.

She shook her head, suddenly exhausted, and Jisung nodded understandingly, turning back to the TV. Felix smiled empathetically at her over his shoulder, nodding his head at her in a silent question.

Y/n nodded back and a grateful smile ghosted her features as Felix moved to turn the video game's volume down. Hyunjin took a snack from the haphazard assortment on the coffee table and passed a little packet of sweets to Y/n, collapsing comfortably onto the couch.

She took the packet and sank down onto the cushions next to him. letting out a soft groan as it enveloped her body. Closing her eyes, and glancing across at Hyunjin, who was apparently busy watching Jisung play on his controller, she hesitantly took a sweet and put it in her mouth, letting the tangy flavour burst on her tongue.

A momentary surge of energy filled her and she moved to take her blazer off, leaning into the cushions. Her shoulder brushed Hyunjin's and he turned to her, his voice low and reassuring so only she could hear.

"You okay?"

She nodded, unable to stop her eyes from drooping. Hyunjin let out a soft chuckle and pulled her gently closer, guiding her head to rest on his shoulder. His heart jolted in his chest, though he'd been the one to initiate the contact.

The butterflies in Y/n's stomach slowly settled down to rest as her eyes sank shut with exhaustion.

Hyunjin sleepily opened his eyes.

The sunlight filtering into the room had dimmed slightly, taking on a warm, rosy glow, the kind that came with a late, slightly cloudy afternoon. He relished its warmth for a few moments before looking around the room.

He was alone; where Jisung had been sitting with Felix, playing a video game on the TV, there was only a small patch of ruffled, creamy rug to show that he'd ever sat there. Felix himself was nowhere to be seen; he was most likely downstairs, helping out his mom with the store.

Hyunjin moved to stretch an arm over his head, suddenly feeling a great weight on his chest. He was draped over the plush, comfortable couch, long legs bent as he slouched against the arm. His head was cushioned against a pillow which he recognised to be Felix's. He must have put it there after he'd fallen asleep.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking down to see why he felt so weighed down. His heart jolted suddenly and began to attempt to escape his ribcage altogether.

Y/n was fast asleep against his chest.

Hyunjin gulped before laying his head back against the pillow, shuffling slightly under her as he readjusted. He hoped she wouldn't be woken by the banging of his heart inside his chest.

Gathering his wilting courage, he looked down at her; Y/n's face was as serene as he'd ever seen it, untroubled and at peace, with the relaxed expression that came when one slept.

Her hand was resting against his lower torso, fingers tangled into the fabric of his sweater vest. He realised his blazer was draped over her; Felix must have put it there, or Jisung. He didn't remember taking it off himself.

He wondered for a second what she might look like wearing his blazer; would the sleeves be too long for her? Would it hang past down her hips, or would the scent of his cologne weaved into the fabric mix with her body spray?

Hyunjin shook his head, feeling a little dizzy. He considered attempting to move her off of him, but decided against it; she needed to rest. And he had no intention of ruining the quiet, serene moment he'd somehow found himself in.

His hand shook as he lightly traced the curve of her head, feeling the soft, fluffy strands of her hair brush against his fingertips. His heart thudded so loud he could hear it in the quietness of the room, and he brought his hand up to his face, rubbing it tiredly against his cheek. His elbow accidentally bumped her head in the process and he froze, wondering if he'd woken her. He hadn't.

Phew.

Hyunjin let his head fall back onto Felix's pillow, mind wandering. Was it weird that he liked having her close like this? Or was it crossing the line? They were friends, after all...

And besides, she'd just had a panic attack. It wasn't wrong of him to stay close to her and comfort her. That was what she needed; comfort, and affection. All he was doing was taking care of her.

He let his lips part, a soft exhale puffing out of them. Letting his hand rest gingerly on her back, he drew absentminded patterns on the fabric of his blazer. Y/n shifted a little and Hyunjin's head snapped up to look at her, before settling back down with a sigh of relief.

Was it wrong to be this comfortable around her? Surely, as friends, it was fine. He wasn't doing anything wrong. It was normal.

This is normal, he told himself firmly. It's like if Jisung fell asleep on top of me. Which he has. But just because she's a girl, it doesn't mean it has to be any different.

He jumped a little as his phone buzzed. Checking quickly to see if he'd jostled Y/n, he pulled it out from the pocket of his blazer. It was a notification from one of the sports websites he followed.

Noticing a message alert, he distractedly checked his texts, forgetting about the sports site. There was one new message, which had been sent over half an hour ago.

He clicked on it.

sung 🎧: did you get home good? i did

That's right, he remembered. Jisung left early, and alongside Felix, the boys had made it their tradition to check if the others had got home safe. Suddenly, Hyunjin felt bad for not replying. He typed quickly, hoping he was still online.

hyun 🤡: sorry, i fell asleep. i'm still at felix's.

Jisung replied characteristically quickly; a knowing smile graced Hyunjin's elegant features. Jisung was always quick to respond to texts.

sung 🎧: ahh i see sung 🎧: i thought you got murdered sung 🎧: i was hoping to get your inheritance 😔

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, typing back.

hyun 🤡: how kind of you hyun 🤡: also, change my damn contact hyun 🤡: you're the clown here, not me *'sung 🎧' changed 'hyun 🤡' to 'hyun bun 🍑'* hyun bun 🍑: jisung, ew! sung 🎧: i can't lie man sung 🎧: all those squats at basketball practice did you good

Hyunjin groaned, cheeks scarlet, and turned his phone off, tossing it onto the creamy rug below the couch, where it fell face-down, unharmed.

Resting his hand behind his head, he tilted slightly so he was looking up at the ceiling, and closed his eyes. He could rest for a little longer. Not that he was able to get up; Y/n was still fast asleep, and he was losing feeling in his legs, which felt all staticky, but he didn't mind.

His mind wandered back to his previous train of thought; was it wrong for him to be holding her like this? She needed the comfort, and Hyunjin didn't realise it until he stopped and really thought about it, but he needed the comfort too.

When was the last time he'd been held for this long?

Rather, when was the last time he'd felt so loved? So seen?

Sure, he loved Jisung and Felix, and his family and everyone else who held a shred of meaning to him, but with Y/n, it felt different. Like his whole life, he'd been standing behind a steamed-up mirror, where people had only been able to see him distantly, and now Y/n had wiped away the condensation and seen him for who he was. Who he really was. And it scared him.

What if she didn't like him for who he really was? She'd been quieter around him lately; maybe it was a sign that she wished to pull away, that she didn't want to be friends with him anymore... Just the thought made his heart constrict. He couldn't lose her. She meant so much to him now, with her quiet but interesting nature, her amazing sketches and creative talents, her cool collection of keychains and pins and badges...

And he felt safe around her, like he could tell her anything and she would just listen. Without judging or making fun of him. He was sure, if she extended a hand, he'd take it without a singular shred of doubt in his mind. Even if he didn't know where she was leading him, he knew it would be somewhere warm, somewhere safe, somewhere where he was totally, unequivocally loved.

And it wasn't just that, either; Y/n understood him. More than he had initially realised, she'd been picking up on his body language, on his little habits.

Just the other day he'd seen her in the gym, tossing a basketball around the court by herself. And he'd wanted to join her so badly, but a part of him feared that if he got too close, Y/n would walk away. She would leave the same way she feared he would do to her.

Like a tug of war, you could never win until the other person gave in. And Hyunjin wanted it so badly. He wanted to tug on the rope and pull her closer and closer, and he wanted her to want it.

He wanted her to feel loved by him, but if he pulled too harshly, she would fall. And Hyunjin knew that if she fell, everything he'd worked so hard to build would all come crashing down on him like a colossal tidal wave, washing away any evidence of what was and what could have been.

Was it possible to become closer than they already were? Or was he already pushing it? It was the last thing he wanted, after he'd toiled so hard to bring her close, was to be the reason to push her away. He was grateful for the fact that she wasn't as wary around him as she had been, but he wanted more.

Was it wrong to want more?

Or was it too risky? He didn't know how much longer he could stay in this stalemate, torn between pulling back and pushing further. What if he became the reason she went over the edge? What did he want so badly, anyway? Was it her attention? Her affection?

No, he reasoned. She's given me both of those things before and I never wanted more of it like I do now. It's something else.

But what? What did he want so badly? Did he want her all to himself? Or was that just him being jealous? But why would he be jealous in the first place? Surely, if you loved someone, it wasn't possible to be jealous of them in the first place, since they were already yours-

Wait, loved?

Hyunjin's heart dropped out of his ribcage and plummeted until it reached somewhere around his knees.

He didn't love her, right? Surely not. He hadn't even known her for a long time. Usually you were supposed to be close friends with someone for a long, long time before you liked them... That was the only way it worked.

Love, Hyunjin concluded to himself, was only something that could be achieved through years of close friendship. And then the famed symptoms would kick in; feeling nervous around the person, increased heartrate in their presence, dreaming about them, not being able to think straight when they did something like brush your shoulder or walk home with you or fall asleep in your arms-

Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling a lot hotter than he had a minute before. The realisation slapped him in the face, as if someone had slapped him hard across both his cheekbones and punched him in the gut for good measure.

He was in love.

taglist (open) : @kozumesphone @bangchansgirlsblog @ms-flowergirl @stayriversflow @hhwangsmoon @steddie-steddie

✨ send a request or DM to be added / removed !

#stray kids #skz #starlost mochi fics #stray kids fanfic #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz scenarios #starlost mochi #skz imagines #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin skz #hyunjin stray kids #skz hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin series #hwang hyunjin fanfiction #stray kids hyunjin #skz fanfic #hyunjin fanfic

27 notes · View notes

ikuzeminna · 1 day ago

Text

What does a goose have to do with any of it...?

We're all wondering what the heck Tallgeese is supposed to be derived from, so I decided to do some research and the result is either ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯ or a Simone Biles level routine of mental gymnastics, which, notably, is not allowed to stick the landing.

But I finally figured out what Epyon is supposed to mean (which is an utter embarrassment that it took me so long, I'm so sorry @tinyozlion), so hooray for small victories, at least.

So first things first, let's get Epyon's etymology out of the way. The mobile suit name Epyon, phonetically /ˈe.pion/, is likely derived from the Ancient Greek word επιόν, phonetically /e.piˈon/, which means "the next one/the future one." Awfully fitting considering the characters treat Epyon and its system as though it can tell the future. I also find it hilarious how the Greek wiki page features a translation, whereas the English version just assumes everyone is fluent in Attic.

As if.

Bonus information for linguists:

Here's the excuse I have for not finding out sooner Epyon is apparently taken from επιόν. Επιόν is the present active participle, neuter nominative/accusative/vocative singular, of the verb ἔπειμι (épeimi), according to Attic inflectional endings, with the verb having various meanings, among them "to exist in the future/to approach/to attack" etc.

This means that επιόν is not a word you can directly look up in a dictionary, like the one I have lying around. You need to know it's derived from ἔπειμι and then know your Attic declension to reach this form. All I wanna know right now is who the Ancient Greek buff at Sunrise was who's to credit for this. Because this was in the era before anyone even thought of uploading translations of Ancient Greek words onto the worldwide web. And how you end up with one suit having a name you need to have studied a dead language for and another named after statuesque waterfowl.

Ikeda, I have questions.

On an additional note, επιών, the masculine singular, sounds the same phonetically, but since Epyon is a mobile suit and thus an object, it makes more sense to go with the neuter. Unlike with humans and animals, things don't usually have a gender in Greek unless it's a loanword.

Okay, so now that Epyon is figured out, let's look at Tallgeese. This one is a wild ride.

For the sake of argument, we'll step away from the goose thing for a second. Tallgeese in Japanese is spelled トールギス (Tōrugisu), which, taking Japanese's limits into account and the translated Amazon.co.jp listings of the mobile suit's various gunpla kits, means we could write Tallgeese as anything ranging from "Tallgis" to "Torgis." I've seen all kinds of spellings for it. (The obscure ones sometimes let you find a kit at a very reasonable price.)

So let's look at what theme OZ suits adhere to. Here's a list of all of them:

OZ-00MS Tallgeese

OZ-02MD Virgo

OZ-06MS Leo

OZ-07AMS Aries

OZ-07MS Tragos (Greek for Capricorn)

OZ-08MMS Cancer

OZ-09MMS Pisces

OZ-12SMS Taurus

OZ-13MS Epyon

OZ-13MSX1 Vayeate

OZ-13MSX2 Mercurius

Bonus: battleship Libra

The grunt suits are all in the 01-12 range, which corresponds to the Zodiac constellations being 12, even if they don't care about the correct order. Tallgeese, Epyon, Vayeate and Mercurius are the only ones outside this Zodiac range, so time to look at what other constellations there are.

Turns out there are 88 of them by now. 48 originally if we go with Ptolemy's version.

Let's look at the suit to find some hints as to what we're looking for.

The red front-to-back plume evokes Roman or Spartan military. The round shield is definitely closer to trademark Spartan than Roman, so coupled with the death wish you need to pilot it, I'd say Spartan is a reasonable pick.

I mean, if it fits, it fits.

The other interesting detail about Tallgeese is the yellow bird emblem on the shield, which it doesn't have in the series because it probably would have been too much of a pain to animate. The gunpla feature it though.

Here's the Tallgeese, and the Tallgeese Flügel version.

The emblem on the shield is tinier, but it's there, and it's added to the giant wings as well. The reasonable assumption is that that's an eagle, which happens to exist as a constellation. Aquila, or rather Aëtos, and more specifically the Aetos Dios, "was a giant, golden eagle which served as Zeus' personal messenger and animal companion."

Tallgeese would be equated to Zeus then, since the suit obviously isn't the golden eagle itself, being all white. If we view Tallgeese as the father of all mobile suits and consider that Zeus fathered... honestly, everyone and his dog in Greek mythology <_<, it fits.

So, do we have a constellation that is something big, white, preferably with wings, that's connected to Zeus? Yup, there is the swan, Cygnus, or Kyknos if you prefer Greek, which has a very interesting story of how it ended up in the night sky.

Turns out it's another one of Zeus' romantic adventures where he transformed into a swan to seduce Leda, the queen of Sparta.

"Leda was a queen of Sparta, the wife of King Tyndareus, who was seduced by Zeus in the guise of the swan. There were several versions of the parentage of her children:- Some say she laid an egg from which were hatched the Dioskouroi (Dioscuri) twins, Kastor and Polydeukes, both sons of Zeus. Others say she laid two eggs each containing a child of Zeus and a child of Tyndareus--Polydeukes and Kastor in one, and Helene and Klytaimnestra (Clytemnestra) in the other. Yet others relate that the second egg, containing just Helene, was delivered to Leda by the goddess Nemesis who had lain it after coupling with Zeus in the guise of a goose."

....We have arrived at the goose.

Fun fact: geese, swans and ducks are grouped into one family (anatidae). This is an important tidbit as things will become very dumb from this point onward.

Because I may have gotten Spartan, golden eagle, giant white bird and predecessor all consolidated under the Cygnus constellation, but etymologically, "Tallgeese" is nowhere near anything I've discussed so far. :(

It doesn't sound like Cygnus, it doesn't sound like Zeus, or any child of his with the Spartan queen. It doesn't even sound Greek, and yes, I checked more carefully this time. The best I can give is στοργής (storgís) which would be the genitive form of the word "affection," which could fit with the swan story if you reach enough to rival Luffy, but doesn't explain where the S went. The other option is οργή (orgí) which means fury, but is missing the T.

So I got the theme of the suit figured out, I think, but the name? Nope.

Is there maybe a star in the Cygnus constellation that sounds like Tallgeese or even just tall or geese?

Nope. I checked the other birds as well, like the eagle or the dove. Nothing. I checked if there was any star at all that sounded anything like tall or geese and the closest I got was Gliese 581, which is a red dwarf in the Libra constellation and not visible to the naked eye.

Fun fact: there is also Vulpecula et Anser, the Fox and Goose, which have been reduced to just the fox in modern constellations, so we did have a goose up there in ancient times.

All these dead ends lead to three options:

I'm either looking at the wrong language and Tallgeese or Torgis or whatever is close to the word for swan in a different language

Ikeda is trolling and it really is a tall goose or

I'm off my rocker and the Tallgeese was never associated with Cygnus to begin with. Which would call the goose into question again.

So, which one is it?

¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

The final season of Sailor Moon never fails to have me in tears because of the absolute hilarity that are the Sailor Starlights' attacks. Sailor Star Fighter's attack is "Star Serious Laser." Sailor Star Healer's is "Star Sensitive Inferno", which already has me go ???? But it's Sailor Star Maker who breaks me with her "Star Gentle Uterus." I have no idea what that lady is throwing, but I know I don't wanna get hit by it.

What I mean to showcase here is that [random adjective] + [random noun] = perfectly fine attack name for a Japanese manga/anime in the 90s.

It's hard to believe that the crew who had ridiculously specific knowledge of Ancient Greek would just derp with English, but what if they did? Let's say they wanted to name the suit after Cygnus, but in a language different from Latin or Greek to cement it is an outlier, while also pointing out that it is bigger than normal suits, so they got "tall" but landed on goose instead of swan because someone mixed them up. And it's "geese" and not "goose" because it's a nod to there being more than one Tallgeese, especially since Japanese doesn't even differentiate between singular and plural.

....

Look, I tried.

#I would like to not end up writing half a dissertation whenever I research something for this series #gundam wing #meta #tallgeese #epyon #Zeus' love life #which I really could have done without #feel free to change the wiki pages on Epyon

26 notes · View notes

lunarflux · 2 days ago

Text

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

part 12: world on fire

word count: 2,256

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

Days would pass since Tommy's near brush with death and your ascent from the dark. At first, no one asked where you were, but as the week progressed, Arthur and John were the first to talk to Tommy about it. He could tell—not that his brothers were particularly good at hiding their emotions—that they wondered if you were alright. Finn, who still held onto the little stories you shared, resisted entering the bookshop because, in time, you had nothing to say. He voiced his concern to Tommy, but it would take him another few days to find himself outside the shop, wondering if you were inside.

He reached for the knob, and it jammed. The front door was locked, but Tommy wasn’t one to be deterred by locked doors. He rapped his knuckles against the wood, the sound sharp and commanding.

After a long pause, the door creaked open just enough for you to peer out, your expression immediately hardening.

“What do you want?”

Funny. Those were the first words he spoke to you when he sat across your desk so long ago, and now here he was again. Only this time, you were the one demanding an answer.

Tommy stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his presence filling the small space. He looked around the place that you always hid away in, and in some part of his mind—the part that also craved solitude among the chaos—understood, and he wished that he had a sanctuary like this of his own.

When he finally looked at you, you avoided his eyes.

“You haven't been back to the betting house. Or the Garrison.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back against the counter. You kept your demeanor cold, posture guarded, but he caught the flicker of something in your eyes—sadness, maybe, or frustration. Most likely with him.

“Well, now you know I'm alive,” you said. "Is that all?"

There it was—the uncomfortable silence. But now, you couldn't wait. The longer you waited, the longer he'd be standing in front of you.

Your jaw tightened. “Then I guess, you're just here to take up time.”

Tommy removed his hat and placed it on the counter, hoping to take up as much time to put together a delicate answer for you. “We have unfinished business.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting.

He took a step closer, his hands tucked into his pockets. “You said gave me my life for my tragedy.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but, still, you said nothing.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Tommy continued, his voice low. “And I realized something.”

Your breath hitched, though you masked it well. “Enlighten me.”

He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He hated this—hated the vulnerability, the uncertainty—but he forced himself to push through.

“You’ve already walked away from me more than once,” he said finally. “And, every time, I let you because of the debt I owe you. I'd rather not make that mistake again—debt or no debt.”

Your posture stiffened, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond.

“You’ve got a choice,” he replied, his voice turning sharp. “You can keep weighing everything I do—everything you do—by value. By exchange. A debt for a debt, only giving what is equally worth the other, hiding behind that cold front of yours. Or you can look at me. And tell me, at last, what the fuck it is you really want.”

Silence hung between you, heavy and charged.

You opened your mouth to speak but faltered again, your usual sharp wit replaced by something softer, more uncertain.

Tommy stepped closer, his gaze boring into yours. “I’m not asking for answers tonight. But think about it, y/n. Because one way or another, it will come out—with or without your willingness to say it out loud.”

He turned and walked toward the door, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. As he stepped into the cool night air, Tommy allowed himself the faintest of smiles.

The chessboard had shifted.

Now, it was your move.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The door shut behind him with a soft click, but the sound felt deafening in the silence that followed. You stood frozen, your back still against the counter, arms crossed as though holding yourself together.

You hated how much you hung onto his words until they crept under your skin. You hated that he could say so little and still unravel your carefully constructed defenses.

Your hands clenched into fists. Even as you thought through it all, doubt crept in. You had seen something in his eyes tonight—the same look of fragility—something he probably didn’t even realize he’d let slip. Vulnerability. Maybe even fear.

Your breathing caught at the base of your throat as another thought surfaced, unbidden. It was true. Every time, you were the one who walked away, and next time, he wouldn't let you. The thought alone was daunting, and you spent the next minute convincing yourself that he meant it as a threat. It wasn't though, it was a precarious decision he made on his own. He wouldn't let you walk away again to leave him alone.

The realization sent a chill down your spine. Tommy Shelby wasn’t the type to say things he didn’t mean. If he’d decided you were worth chasing, worth fighting for, he wouldn’t stop. And if he did stop, that meant he was wrong—you weren't worth it. Both concepts raged on in your head. You wanted to be worth it, but was all of this worth it to you?

Your grip on control slipped for just a moment, and you slammed your hand against the counter in frustration.

Needing someone—it was a terrible feeling, to the point where, long ago, you decided you'd never let yourself need someone again. The anger you felt towards yourself was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the frustration you felt towards Tommy. He was pushing you for an answer you didn't have, or perhaps, it was one he knew you would keep denying.

Wanting someone—there was no line of logic that would make it any better.

Your thoughts spiraled, but you forced yourself to take a deep breath. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. There were bigger things at play.

Why did I save him, you kept asking yourself, what possessed me to go there?

The tip about Tommy replayed in your mind. Something about it hadn’t sat right with you from the beginning, but there was no time to think it through. Why would someone risk passing on information like that? Why to you, specifically? That could have gone to anyone—any of the Blinders would have readily gone to help Tommy if he needed it. So, why did that information fall into your lap?

Kennedy—a wiry fellow with shifty eyes and a devious demeanor. He’d seemed so eager, almost too eager, to help. Back when he was Bedlam's bookie, he was much more naïve, but you offered him a way out, a way to stay out of the line of fire by giving information when Arthur sought it out. So, why would he come back—willingly come back to you?

Bingham.

The name hit you like a lightning bolt. It was suddenly so obvious, too obvious. Bingham set you up. The tip wasn’t to help Tommy. It was to bait you into action, to make you reveal yourself—to show that, now, you had something you couldn't afford to lose. It didn't matter that you told yourself this agreement with Tommy was transactional. A lost investment would stay lost. But to lose Tommy was something else entirely, and you never would have allowed that to way on your conscience if he'd been killed.

You walked straight into it. Bingham knew, once again, that you allowed yourself to care enough to risk your security.

You pushed away from the counter, your heart pounding so violently it sent aches through your veins. If Bingham was watching, if this was all part of some plan, then Tommy’s visit tonight might not have gone unnoticed.

Your jaw clenched as the anger burned through your skin. You’d been a fool to think you could outmaneuver someone like Bingham without consequences. All at once, it was crumbling down at your feet. You could blame Tommy all you wanted, but all of this came down to the decision you made.

You ran to your office, hastily pulling one of the drawers, and reloaded your pistol. If someone was going to act tonight, let them. All you knew was that this wouldn't end well.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

Arthur and John Shelby lingered in the shadows, the bookshop just within view. Tommy told them to follow him there, his expression unreadable as he gave the order. Others remained in the car, each more confused than the next.

“She won’t like it,” Arthur muttered, lighting a cigarette. "If she swings a bottle at my head—"

“She doesn’t have to like it,” Tommy replied, his voice cold. “Just make sure she’s not alone. Finn and I will be at the Garrison.”

"You really think something's going to happen?" John asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Tommy didn't explained himself further, but Arthur and John didn’t really need an answer. They’d seen the way Tommy looked at you, even if he refused to admit it. He’d do what he always did—protect what mattered to him, whether or not he said it out loud.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

You stayed behind the counter, eyes darting back and forth between the passing shadows on the street. When the burden finally felt too heavy, you pressed your palms against your eyes, suddenly feeling so foolish at your paranoia. Bingham was too smart, and he already knew where you were. Why wouldn't he show himself? What would turning you mad do for him in the end?

You paced between the shelves of books, revolver at your side. You had to do something to keep your mind preoccupied, or else you really would go crazy. The maddening effects of staying awake for so long would get you first, and the mania would hit later. You were no good to anyone without your mind, but dying was so much more terrifying.

You looked down to the floor just as a shadow passed over the window, cloaking your legs in darkness.

The shot rang loud, piercing the window and into your shoulder. The burn came quickly, the force of the bullet sending you back into one of the shelves. You fired towards the shadow, and the window shattered completely.

The crack of your gun echoed down the street, but the damage was already done. The scent of petrol filled your lungs as it cascaded into your shop through the open window.

The flicker of flames caught your eye, and you turned to see fire licking at the edges of the bookshop’s doorway. Before you could move, a sharp pain erupted in your side. Amidst all of it, you never felt the second shot—the bullet still deep inside.

Your vision blurred, but you held yourself steady against the shelves. Your arm ran cold with the dampness of blood soaking your sleeve.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

“Bloody hell,” Arthur muttered, tossing his cigarette aside when he saw the flames.

John moved quickly, his hand on his gun. He screamed your name, the sound desperately fighting the din of crackling paper and splintering wood.

The car emptied as the two of them rushed toward the bookshop, Arthur cursing under his breath. They reached you just as you stumbled out of the doorway, nearly collapsing on the street.

“Find Tommy—” John commanded to the others as he grabbed your arm to steady you. They scattered in the direction of the Garrison.

“Get her out of here,” Arthur barked, his voice rough with urgency.

You tried to protest, but the pain was overwhelming. You wanted to tell them that your things were on the second floor, but the smoke overtook the street. Before long, everything would be lost.

“We’ll handle it,” Arthur said firmly, shoving you toward John. “Go!”

John half-carried you to the relative safety of an alleyway, his grip firm but careful. “Stay here,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You leaned against the wall, breaths shallow. You watched as Arthur disappeared into the chaos, his gun raised, his silhouette outlined by the glow of the flames.

The air was thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning paper and charred wood. The night was lit up with the flames of the bookshop, a chaotic dance of fire and shadows that seemed to mirror your own inner turmoil. Blood soaked through your coat, warm and sticky. You staggered, leaning heavily on the side of the car as you watched everything be swallowed by light.

Arthur appeared from the smoke, his eyes narrowed and calculating as he took in the sight of your injuries. “Did they shoot you or try to gut you with a pitchfork?”

You managed a weak smile, the pain radiating through you like a live wire. “Gentleman’s choice, I suppose.”

“We need to get her to the Garrison now,” John muttered, his eyes dark with something that wasn’t just irritation.

You didn’t respond, too caught up in trying to stay upright. The effort left you feeling dizzy, the edges of your vision tinged with gray. By now the pain was blinding. John lifted you into the car, and the last you remember feeling before the burn took over again was the feeling of cold air blowing against your cheeks.

#thomas shelby #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic #lunarflux #a game of ghosts lunarflux

22 notes · View notes

pidgeon-queen · 2 days ago

Text

So I'm rewashing Arcane season 1 before going through season 2, and I want to point out and explore some questions that don't excuse the characters actions, but might reveal their logic. I also want to explore who is to blame for everything wrong. I have seen clips and spoilers for season 2, act 1 and 2, but i am holding off on seeing act 3 spoilers until I actually watch it. It means I can't doomscroll Tumblr until after I catch up tomorrow.

I definitely won't be right, and I'm not psychologist, but i just want to explore.

Season 1

Episode 1

Starting off with the beginning, Vi and Powder see their dead parents and all the violence the enforcers inflicted. Powder comforts Vi over her distress, but outside of Vander taking them away, we don't see Powder get comfort over the same loss. Season 2 gives more information on Powders relationship with her parents, but we are not talking about that now.

Milo takes a lot of flack from the others. I assume out of the four, he is the second youngest and doesn't have as much physical strength as Vi or Clagger. He tries to be stealthy when Vi brute forces her way through a door, and it looks like Vi takes her frustrations out on him instead of directing it at Powder. He is insecure about his skills and Vander has to reassure him later. I think Vi is part of the reason he is insecure because she takes her anger out on him.

The crystals that blow up the penthouse is the only reason the group run through sewers and into the group of guys resulting in a fist fight. I do believe if they never blew up the balcony and got chased, there would not have been a reason to go through the alley. I am curious if Silco would have still found the guy and made an offer later on if there was never the altercation.

Ekko and his tip: Ekko mention Jayce buying stuff only kept for display, and i think it is implied to be magic/arcane relics. Benzo is smart, so i don't think he would sell the crystals seeing how volatile they are with just sitting in the open. It's too dangerous for both pilties and those from Zaun to have access to buy or steal. This leads me to one firm belief, everything that happens is Jayce's fault. The arcane are seen as contraband from what I can tell, and who gave it to him?

Without the crystals, the penthouse wouldn't have blown up, th kids probably wouldn't have been caught, enforcers wouldn't have gone to the lanes, Marcus probably wouldn't have met with Silco, and Silco's timeline wouldn't have changed. Who knows what this change would have done, but it definitely would have been different.

Episode 2

If Jayce had something he wasn't supposed to, even if he trusted Caitlyn, her mother is on the council and she has to have some rules she doesn't break. Why were the crystals sitting in the open and not secured away? Or even hidden? I'm in college and room checks are a thing, as a student they probably checked his studies for any restricted research.

In his memory, the arcane crystals he sees/is given looks a lot smaller than what he was holding and uses in the future. He knew the strength of something so small, why did he try studying with something bigger and riskier.

Heimendinger mentions how the arcane can't be controlled, so i am curious if it is taught at all, or if Jayce had his interest only on a past experience.

I do wonder if Marcus intentionally went too far with hunting the people. What violence was done is just instigation with the adults.

Mel is the richest person in Piltover and later we see corruption with some of the council, and i think she has corruption. She offers child's toy to a counselor and claims it is a difficult puzzle. She is a tactile thinker and as well later learn her backstory, I think she runs Piltover in what she believes is the opposite, but also better way than where she is from. Little violence is better than war, and she picks and chooses her actions and what she believes to be the right course to better Piltover. I am curious as to what she believes about Zaun before Silco's takeover later in the season.

Heimerdinger might be the only non corrupt counselor and has focus on education and helping the minds of the youth, though his focus is still on Piltover and being part of the council, his experiments and work takes a hack burner. I don't know if he is a professor or just a Dean of the school Jayce studies in, but he is out of touch with the people, and Jayce takes advantage of this later on.

Silco is charismatic and has some true facts. "There's a monster in us all." It depends on if it is fed or starved. He is good at feeding the monsters.

Mel and heimerdinger are noticeably silent about sending more enforcers to Zaun and enacting violence compared to other councelors. Kiramman wasn't even there, but I do wonder if she would have stayed silent too. Bolbok's comment was interesting as he already seen is race nearly wiped out, and there is no proof that the kids took anything dangerous. Jayce doesn't mention it which is also suspicious.

How cruel is Jayce for about to kill himself in the middle of the scholars district for all of the people to see in the morning.

Nobody really talks about it from what I have seen, but Victor is the instigator in Jayce building hextech. Yes, he saved Jayce, but look at the damage he causes later on. Was it really worth it? Stopping Jayce was enough, why did you have to risk more by breaking into get his research.

Episode 3

Did Marcus tell Silco where to go? Or was Silco following them from the shadows? Why didn't he go to the last drop first? He could have killed the kids first, then make Vander suffer.

Poor Ekko. He watched his father figure get brutally murdered, probably saw the enforcers get murdered too. Why did Vi leave him alone. She saw her parents dead body, she probably could imagine seeing them be murdered. What made her think leaving him alone with a corpse was a good idea and not taking him with her to the Last Drop. Her asking Ekko where they took Vander means she assumed he followed, and he probably did. Where was his mental state?

I think Silco still cares for Vander deep down. He probably tried to preserve the Vander he remembered for the dream they both once shared. I wonder if he is under the idea that he needs to kill what came of Vander and took his will to fight.

Mel pulls strings and get others to do what she sees as necessary and important to the benefit or the people. It's why she helps Jayce so often.

This is the second episode in which Vi doesn't comfort or recognize that Powder may be grieving. Claggwr and Milo comfort Vi, but Powder isn't really comforted, just left abandoned. The only thing she really does is promise to come back and give her something to hold onto. She comforted Ekko, then left him abandoned too. Vi is a shitty sister for what she did to both of them. Even if she is trying to protect them, leaving them alone after either watching or hearing what happened to Vander and Benzo, shame on her.

Milo's hesitation before trying to pick the link shows how Vi's words and actions did affect him. Vander has to reassure him of his abilities.

Also, this random tattooed man is so weak for someone who looks so strong. One punch is usually all it takes to knock him out. All that training and muscle just goes to waste in a single hit.

Powder had good intentions and was in a vulnerable state when abandoned. If we are going in order of explosions they show, I think if Powder had one less crystal, Clagger and Milo's might not have died. That could also just be my wishful thinking because they deserved more.

Do you think Marcus realized just how big of a mistake he made and ran as fast as he could when he saw the explosion? Did he make it in time to see Vanders death?

Vi didn't have someone to comfort her in this scene. Powder is suspected to be there, and she might believe Powder is dead, but that doesn't really matter. The 3 she knew were there are dead, and there isn't someone to comfort her. I don't think she has ever comforted someone over loss outside of the one hug she gave Ekko before disappearing. The one time Powder is seen to reach out for comfort about loss and failing when she wanted to help, Vi blames and attacks her. This lack of comfort in the way she was in the past is the reason I belive she abandons Powder even though she has no reason to believe Silco is dead.

I think it is revealed later in season 2, but it is interesting the interaction Powder has with Silco. He was going to kill her, but he voice sounds nothing to her, and I think her reaction reminded Silco of his younger self and is why he let's her live when he intended to kill her and the others from the start.

Episode 4

Heimerdingers comment on his friends whose name I don't know how to type sounds like Heimerding took notes on the teaching method and stepped back from inventing to allow students to shine. I wonder if it was another way to preserve the guys memory.

The intro with the Heimerdinger statue looks conniving and an opposite t who he truly is.

Kirmman trying to cover and the young girl fauning over Jayce is kind of funny especially when he doesn't care for either.

I wonder if there are magnets in the Firelight's shoes so they can do the fall motion without actually falling. They should have shot a barrel and threw a march instead of going down and getting killed.

I haven't said it yet, but the art style is so beautiful.

Do you think Ekko was dating or at least crushing on the pink haired Firelight, or did he see the same thing as Jinx and felt like he lost Vi all over again and risked nearly getting killed because of the renewed grief.

Jayce really didn't warn Heimerdinger what he was about to do and terrified the 300 year old man. Shame on him. Shame on him for almost killing the baby, too.

Heimerdinger is right, but unfortunately his concept of time is off co.pared to the lives of others. If he said a few years, then Jayce and Victor might have been more willing to listen, but I doubt Victor really would have waited.

Caitlyn's kind of dumb. She jumped in an area without a means of getting back up, or knowing if it was really safe.

Something else I haven't said is how banger the music is. In high school, I wanted to perform a color guard routine to a couple of songs. A shame I couldn't with a busted foot and no real creative freedom.

Silco pretending he can't do his own eye shots to prove he trusts Jinx with something sensitive is so kind and fatherly of him. Also, he didn't hesitate in the past about doing it, but i think he added shimmer to the shot and not really can't do it on his own.

Mel's control over Piltover is fascinating and is just as persuasive as Silco, only she uses it to keep some of the less honest counselors in line and protect Piltover from the war she came from.

I'm so proud of Jinx finally getting her inventions to work, but she does need to look into less destructive measures. She shot at people on her side and couldn't take out two important individuals to the Firelight's.

I've watched season 1 of arcane no lss than 5 times before season 2 released even a teaser, and for some reason, I never saw Jayce make his progress speech. Also, if your pet is afraid of an individual, I would be more concerned about what they are capable of, Heimerdinger.

Jayce, really didn't learn his lesson about leaving hextech/hexcores just laying around in the open where they could be stolen.

Caitlyn called for everyone to run and get out, but didn't even run herself. Girl, think through your actuons.actions.

Jayce is learning about the corruption of the counselor. Mel has chosen to give him more access to learning the corruption, and even joining himself. Heimerdinger knows something but held back.

Where is Jinx's hideout/workstation? It looks underground, and it it is big enough to launch explosives without worry. It's pretty cool.

Episode 5

Grayson deserved so much more. She wasn't corrupt, but had to bend the rules to keep the peace as much as possible. She could have taught Caitlyn so much. I wonder if Mel gave her more freedom to keep peace.

Was it love at first sight for Vi and Caitlyn or was it the first few minutes in the undercity that sold their unhealthy relationship? Vi, don't you know what a toxic relationship looks like? Caitlyn, you have always held some kind of position of power. Did your parents not teach you about healthy relationships?

Silco wants the nation of Zaun, but still calls himself a citizen.

Victor doesn't have time, but won't admit he needs the assistance of hextech, instead claims it is other people. The arcane calls for a sacrifice, and Victor didn't even hesitate.

Marcus gave a warning for Jayce to not rock the boat of the counselors, he doesn't seem to be worried about Silco and his dealings with topside when talking about the shipments. Just the shift in how the counselors will act.

Why was clagor made tiny, but Milo's lifesize? Jinx never had a hint of her trauma healed. Just used in Silco's favor.

How did Caitly catch up to Vi? She doesn't know the undercity.

Mel revealing the corruption and how she carefully controls it to Jayce is both smart and stupid. Jayce is dumb. He will not use that information wisely.

Jinx, what did affect crow ever do to you? Who did you think of? I don't really think it was the Firelights.

Caitlyn needs to watch what she says. This isn't her home, and very few are lenient with comments.

Mel is doing all of the heavy lifting, Jayce needs to step up. Poor Heimerdinger, I am starting to believe he doesn't know what his fellow counselors actually do.

Madam went from trying to seduce Clagger to being Vi's aunt. Vi also pimped out Caitlyn. I wonder how far Caitlyn went with the woman. And how she managed to leave after Vi abandoned her. Interestingly enough, it is the pilties who are committing unsavory acts in this scene and the one with Jayce. Those in the undercity are not shown doing anything, but Caitlyn watches what a couple are doing in the bubbles like a creep.

I don't think the people who used magic/arcane in the past were corrupt like Heimerdinger explained in earlier episodes. Based on what we see with Victor, and what seems to happen in season 2, it is the arcane that corrupts and takes over the minds of people. It absorbed and molded Victor's blood and called out to his mind.

Some scenes with Silco and Jinx are a little suspicious and gets close to the line of leave father-daughter relationship and leaning i to something more. This could just be i never had a great male role model and father who didn't want to connect with me like he did my brother, but that's what I am noticing. I know it never goes that way.

How does Sivika want to fight, but can't beat Vi, who has been locked up for years, without relying on Vi's me tal state being shocked at the news to really land a hit.

Silco does it to seem more approachable with others, but good on him for having a positive relationship with Makeup. Set good examples for the people of today and in the undercity.

Episode 6

This is clean water and near the surface, did it reach further into the undercity when Victor was young, or did it take building a filtration system for that to happen.

Heimerdinger contemplate the death of his friends, but he didn't say something I think he wanted to. That is the isolation immortality brings when everyone you care about will die long before you. Decades pass quickly for him, and so do the lives of his friends. He keeps moving forward, but he surely feels alone deep down.

Let's go with the headcannons the community has and Jayce talking about his first love Victor and his inevitable death to the physical relationship and love of Mel. Shame he said brother. I think a lot of people forgot that line. To be fair, my fiction class read my story, presumably closely, and completely missed the sentence explaining one character is 1000 years older than another.

Vi is a butch lesbian mess up and i can't believe Caitlyn let an injured person, under her watch, jump down and get more beat up. I saw someone else talk about how human and non human the characters are. I think they used uncanny valley as an analogy.

Silco, I know you needed to talk with Marcus and using his daughter makes sense. However, why bring this guy who apparently is learning to read while riding a tiny rocking horse. Silco can get away with being up there, but this guy should have been left in the kitchen away from her.

Victor is messing with plants and the arcane. I think he is the one who brought it the chance to fuck with nature, and Ekko's tree in season 2.

Caitlyn and Vi keep making statements that prove their relationship is toxic.

Heimerdinger can see that Victor is contaminated with the hexcore, but he seems to not realize what he needs to put into words for others to understand his worries. Because he is not in the know of the other councelors dealings, he has lost the support he once had, and Jayce took advantage of it.

Marcus is trying to warn Jayce still, but he needs to either come clean, or keep his mouth shut. He is about to overstep on both sides.

Jayce did Heimerdinger dirty. Jayce also put Mel in a position she was forced to agree. Because of her, it moved the others to agree.

People have done video essays on Silco and his tantrum, and i recommend to watch them. They do more than I could about his me tal state and what gies through his head.

Poor Sevika. She should have know what she was doing was stupid. Jinx is mostly holding on by a thread.

Jinx losing her mind and hearing voices was artistically beautiful

Episode 7

I love how this episode starts with a music video.

Something I have seen online is about Ekko is him missing from part of season 2, but the exact same thing happens in season 1. He is there in act 1, we don't know it at the time, so technically he is missing from act 2, and shows up again in act 3.

Ekko has a slightly different design compared to his childhood. As a kid, you could see the hair around the side of his head by the ears is dark brown or black. While the rest is white/platinum blond. I wonder if he does it, or if it like an inverted birthmark that made those spots grow black. While shaved, it seems shaved back further than the spots that had the dark hair.

How did Jayce become defacto head of the council? I thought Mel was the head. If Heimerdinger was the original head, because he had been there the longest, then Jayce shouldn't have become head. Whoever had been there loanger should have become the next leader.

Vi really didn't give a shit about what happened to Ekko. I wish we knew what really happened to Ekko after Vi ditched him. He gives a vague excuse but how long was he alone, hiding from Silco and on the run before he found the tree and made a home there. And just for my own e tertainment, what is Scar's backstory?

Jayce completely forgot Victor was from the undercity. He holds a lot of discriminative opinions about the undercity, and i don't know if they were enhanced after the theft, or if it was always there and we didn't see it until now.

Ekko is trying and good for him.

Mel is falling back on her past. She is looking for a defense, not war, but she does expect for war to be brought to Piltover.

Victor is right. They are not soldiers. Jayce forgot that when he spoke with Vi later on.

I love that Heimerdinger is sneaking across the river. I think this is the most crime he has ever done because he is not on the council anymore. Screw Jayce, I want his adventures.

I find it hard to believe people from the undercity are still not protesting on the bridge at this time.

I'm starting to believe The enforcers with Marcus are not really human.

Vi really called for Caitlyn instead of Ekko. This reinforces my belief that Vi is a shifty person. Ekko should have been her first thought. Why would Vi assume the enforcers would attack Caitlyn when Ekko is the one seen as a threat?

The callback to episode one and Jinx huming the song again.

His daughter didn't deserve this but Marcus definitely did.

Ekko is such a badass i love it. Where did the nickname Boy Savior come from. It happened during the time jump. And he lost the nickname Little Man.

There is a reference to a crow/raven behind the Little Powder memory. Did Jinx shoot the bird because reminded her of the past?

I can kind of see Vi thinking Ekko is dead and still running off to the council, but it should be implied that Jinx was killed too in the explosion. It isn't what happened, and she later knows Jinx survived, so why not assume Wkko survived too. She doesn't even go to the Firelights to let them know of the supposed death of Ekko. She literally said fuck it to everything Ekko worked for over these years.

Episode 8

The beginning scene is interesting, but also had to be traumatizing to see a girl Mel's age be decapitated.

When did Jinx steal the gem? Or did Ekko keep it with him and toss an empty container to Vi and Caitlyn? He said he would show the council, and i wouldn't blame him for still not trusting Caitlyn and being weary of Vi, but it also implies he was fully ready to kill Jinx and didn't know he would hesitate.

Jayce is weak. He shouldn't have gone to the bridge if he hasn't ever seen death in such a way. Mel should have prepared him at the least

"Sometimes death is a mercy." How many years did it take the doctor to understand and accept that? Good on him for saving Silco from more unnecessary stress with Jinx being hurt.

Fin needs to wear his jacket right, or have something to keep it from slipping off him. I feel like it would be easier to steal it from him like this. How many times has he lost it and just pretends it didn't happen?

Ambessa is hot. I will say that.

Poor Heimerdinger. He can't help the adults, he know that parents are untrusting, so he can't help the children. I can't wait until season 2 because i know they have better interactions. Ekko knows him, and I bet as a kid, he looked up to him for potential in his engineering.

Ambassador really stood up without Jayce giving consent to seeing her nudes. The creators didn't show him blushing, just looking away. He knows that is Mel's mother, and he slept with Mel.

Vi is going by undercity laws and customs, but she is with piltover council. He puked at death, then wanted more bloodshed which he can't even stand to see.

Why doesn't the council want to let the undercity become it's own nation? What is the benefit of people who you don't care about being called your people. I would argue civil war is worse than war against 2 different nations/cities.

Victorost the plot with the hexcore and should have talked more with Jayce about what he was doing. He doesn't want to create weapons, but he is turning his body into what could be used as a weapon. His actions killed Sky. Then the hexcre had the audacity to burp after its meal.

This is not my orignial idea, but some of it is my original words.

Canon Butch Lesbian Vi and headcanon bi disaster Jayce. Alone, they are fuck ups. But with their powers combines, and the help of hextech weapons, they are still 2 fuckups who can't do shit right.

The people in the suits, are they children too? And is it their job every shift to sit in them in case of an attack, or are they in the equivalent of a cryo pod until the putton is pushed and they are awoken and flooded with shimmer for the fight.

I think Kayce had 2 head on shots, and one of them was a kid. They didn't even die from it. It just numb them so they fell. The fall is what killed them.

What was the choice in deciding only women would be seen naked in showers?continuing with the show, specifically Caitlyn. She turned one handle which implies she had the water set to scalding and didn't react to it. She should be red with blisters trying to form from that. It implies their water temperatures are weak

Episode 9

Jayce really panicking about one direct kill and refusing to listen to Vi when she tells him the truth. That kid did know what he signed up for. His mother is pretty shifty for having him work down there and knowing the dangers.

How did Jinx find Caitlyn's home? They do not explore or inform us about this. Jinx was recovering when Vi went there and Marcus probably wasn't giving away information on where council members live.

The core killed Sky, and Victor can't bring himself to destroy it. It has control on him and he refuses to accept that.

Mel found out her mom stood up from the bath in front of Jayce and got pissed. On a more serious note, her brother doesn't get a name and Mel was disowned. Ambessa tries to be caring, but it is hard to believe that is what she means. Who are they talking about. It is easier to prepare for an attack if you know who it is.

The parallel between Jayce and Victor in their suicide attempt. However. Jayce was going to make his death everyone else's problem, and Victor was going to be kind to other and not show the city his mangled corpse. Jayce is outwardly egotistical, Victor has more internal desires and stays out of the spotlight with his actions.

Silco did believe he would die. He truly thought he lost Sevika's loyalty. But he is playing it off pretty well.

If Ekko made it to the council, I think jayce would have been more willing to arrest Silco instead of trying to get Jinx. Maybe there could have been peace in the undercity. I don't think Jayce really told them truth about giving Silco his nation of Zaun.

Ekko mentioned his life, and the other firelights, depended on it to create the home they have. I am more curious now if Ekko has always been hunted because he is a remnant of Vander's leadership. It's assumed that is why he took Vander hostage and knew the kids would come. And he was going to kill Powder. Maybe Silco realized he couldn't do the same thing with Ekko and he was a risk to losing Jinx so he was hunted down. That would explain partly why it is so secured, and it also helps prevent shimmer from being brought to the people trying to heal.

Did Vander say those words to Vi, or was that what she thought he would say. It's u fair her visions are not the same as Jinx.

Why did Vi thinking Caitlyn was under the little tray and Jinx could carry her with ease. Even with the gauntlets.

You know what is a shame? Jinx is so convinced that Powder can't exist at the same time as Powder, and that is Silco's fault. He didn't do something to help her. And insisted that Powder had to die and Vi is lying.

Even in death, Milo is beaten down. I don't blame Jinx, but still, she does it because of Vi and how she saw him treated and how she internalized all the name calling as him doing it.

Jinx's eyes are cloudy and a different color than normal. I think that is the sign she was getting too lost in her head, and outside voices just made it all worse.

Vi's refusal to believe she changed, even if she had a constant routine in prison, is frustrating. Nobody stays the same. She got the shit beaten out of her constantly and was isolated from the outside. She only beat the one innmate because she knew he was working for Silco and had beaten him before.

Ekko looks so happy talking to Heimerdinger, and he is listening thoughtfully to his ideas. That is so sweet. And the music is so sad.

How did Mel not die if she was pretty much the direct line of fire?

This is my conclusion on season 1. When I wake up and take care of business, I will sit down and watch season 2 and add my thoughts on that in a second post. While I doubt people will see this, or read the whole thing, I does feel nice to share with people who might care too.

I still believe this is all Jayce's fault. My reasonings will be more in the season 2 post than this one, but i need sleep

21 notes · View notes