#I remember that first I had a dream I was at work and had to clean

[ratatattouille]

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

Let's start with Vi:

-Vi and Vander: Vi's loyalty to The Lanes always went beyond Powder. Zaun was her father's, Vander's dream. Zaun was her friends (do you remember how protective she was of Ekko aside from her adopted brothers?) and her family. When she's giving Caitlyn a tour of The Lanes, we see how much she embodies and revels in Zaunite culture (esp in the food scene). She cared for Zaun like Vander taught her to. Her "protective" trait extended to ALL the vulnerable in The Lanes, because Vander taught her that. It wasn't EVER just Powder. Zaun is her HOME. As a child, she wanted to make a name for herself IN ZAUN "one day, this city's gonna respect us." You can make the excuse that Vander's death meant that side of her died, but it clearly didn't because of how she regarded it while showing Caitlyn around. "Family" to Vander, extended to the vulnerable of Zaun, which is how Vi and Powder came to be his "daughters" in the first place. Because Zaun was for THEM. Zaun WAS THEM. Vander and Silco "weren't allowed to fail" at Zaun (i.e. the two daughters). Additionally, Vi and Jinx were supposed to succeed where Vander and Silco hadn't: forgiving each other and uniting so they could realize their dream for a free Zaun. The whole reason Zaun struggles to be free is because of their own internal divisions (the different gangs fighting for scraps). But if they united, they would be able to liberate themselves from Piltover (who is still the enemy). The whole reason the others are prosperous in the alternate timeline Ekko and Hemmerdinger travel to is because Vander and Silco reconcile (not because Vi dies).

-Vi and Caitlyn: Caitlyn was an interesting development for Vi, particularly because Caitlyn mirrored Vander's care for all people. Caitlyn was an enforcer that wanted to truly understand and help people. This challenged Vi's biases and also gave them a common goal. Caitlyn appealed to Vi because she gave Vi renewed hope for peace in The Lanes. That Zaun could be free through co-operation instead of violence. Her whole teaming up with Caitlyn, romance aside, was predicated on Vi brokering for peace between Zaun and Piltover. The first break-up between the two (Season 1's "Oil and Water") centred around Jinx, more or less. Vi believes Silco is a threat to peace between Piltover and Zaun (even though The Lanes aren't known as Zaun to her, I'm just using the names interchangeably). She believes Jinx is acting out due to Silco's influence, as well (and she isn't entirely wrong). Had Caitlyn not been injured on the bridge (and had Jinx not felt betrayed by Vi), Vi was going to leave her in pursuit of Jinx. Vi has never fit into Piltover (and that's also shown in Season 2 act 1-2).

-Vi and Jinx: This show was ALWAYS about a tale of two sisters/cities (cue the record insert of their two faces at the beginning of every episode). When Vi becomes an enforcer, it isn't because she's switched loyalties. She wants peace for Zaun, she just wants to take Silco's (and her own) creation--Jinx--out of the equation so it can work. The only reason she agrees to Caitlyn's plan is because, again, their two goals align: get Jinx. The difference is Vi wants to kill Jinx to get Powder back, while Cait wants to kill Jinx to get her city (mother) back. The show in season 2 TOTALLY LOST THIS FOCUS. Vi's guilt at hunting down her own people with enforcers (and it's already insane that Vi would even agree lmao) is ignored a lot by fandom, especially bc her post-breakup scene where she goes full goth is framed as regret for letting Cait down (rather than the self-disgust she would feel for joining her oppressors). Vi played a part in creating Jinx. Every single step of the way. This is barely acknowledged, and every time it might be, it gets shoved aside for romance with Cait. Cait, who, literally became a dictator and weaponized the air ducts her mother had created to SAVE ZAUNITES. The whole thing is viewed as Vi betraying Cait instead of Vi betraying Jinx/Zaun/her family and Cait betraying Vi ("promise me you won't change") and her mother. Cait was the one who sought to help Zaun (like her mother) but betrayed who she was when she was willing to kill Isha, an innocent child. (ALSO IMPORTANT: Just to further prove my point on how integral the sister's love for each other was, every show started with a record playing. The cover of the disc was Vi and Jinx. They were always the center focus of the story. The song that the record played? Likely "Our Love" by Curtis Harding and Jazmine Sullivan which goes "Our love is a bubblin' fountain, our love, that flows into the sea, our love, deeper than the ocean, our love for eternity." This love deeper-than-the-ocean can apparently crumble in the face of a dictator girlfriend you've known for less than a year lmao).

Where the writers FUMBLE is:

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

-Vi forgives Cait easily and prematurely, trashing Vi's true loyalties as established in earlier seasons/episodes

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

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

-Cait's deferral to fascism should have been permanent. Idc about the shippers at this point. Vi and Cait should have never come back from Cait shoving the back of her gun into Vi's injured side (let alone the gassing of the ducts). Vi would've never forgiven her, attraction or no. The fact that Cait could become a dictator after losing one parent is proof of their class divides (after all, Vi held onto hope despite losing all her parents to enforcers and Jinx was all she had left of her family). That should have cemented the death of that relationship (and it would have made for more compelling storytelling on class). The only reason it was kept was because it matters more to white Western audiences to have a Romeo x Juliet rendition that assuages their classist sensitivities. Cait becoming a fascist made sense and was true to her character and the world. Vi forgiving her (and then having sex with her in the prison she was thrown into as a child?) destroyed both her character and the narrative. And it's frankly made the ship that much more unpalatable. If Vi had to be destroyed as a character for the ship to work, then the ship wasn't all that good (even though it started off that way). It's honestly left such a bad taste in my mouth. What a fuck you to oppressed groups that whole subplot was. (And it's made worse by the fact that the creator thought that was somehow an empowering and liberating act for Vi, like fuck that).

Let's Talk About Victor:

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

-Viktor and Singed: Viktor's arc with hextech is foreshadowed with his childhood interaction with Singed. I understand that in the games, Viktor is a villain-type character and his catchphrase or whatever is "Join the Glorious Evolution." While Viktor is horrified by Singed killing the creature that he eventually uses for shimmer, Viktor later says, "I understand," hinting that he saw the sacrifice (and death) necessary to "heal" the world of its ailments. Both Viktor and Singed grow up in The Lanes, and both have ailments they want to cure (for Viktor it is his lung cancer and for Singed its his daughter's dying). In season 2, Viktor tells Singed that while he understands what healing all those people could cost him, he will not sacrifice their humanity for Singed's cause. Then Jayce blasts him in the chest and that all goes out the window. All this despite Sky being there with him in the astro-nether. Now Viktor's idea of becoming a higher being is just getting rid of emotion (despite the fact that his character was one that was consistently willing to sacrifice himself and die in order to not harm others, and Sky's death only solidified that). Jayce killing him without explanation was all of a sudden all he needed to become a divine dictator, lmao. The same Viktor that looked terminal illness in the face and preferred to spare others instead of himself? The same Viktor who's immediate action after waking up with a new body was to go and use the arcane he wished had been destroyed to help others? Sure.

-Viktor and Jayce: Now, I think Jayce's speech had some merit and could have been framed better with a little more time and thought. The philosophical idea of perfection or a perfect world (one which Piltoverians strive toward) being untenable, maybe even undesirable, is a fascinating concept worth exploring. BUT MAKING IT ABOUT SOME INTERNALIZED ABLEISM FROM VIKTOR IS FUCKING STUPID!!!! I'm sorry, but Piltover being the city of progress until it actually included becoming progressive with Zaun was absolutely one of the things Jayce and Viktor's sub-plot was trying to explore. Viktor WANTED TO LIVE. Viktor wanted his people to STOP SUFFERING. Viktor WAS RIGHT. He wasn't merely eliminating "imperfections" (and of FUCKING COURSE A PILTOVERIAN WOULD SEE IT THAT WAY), he was trying to cure sick and dying people who did nothing to deserve it. He was buying them time that people like Jayce and Heimmerdinger had in spades, but Viktor and Zaunites had stolen from them. Children dying of disease and violence in The Lanes was by Piltoverian design! It was not some predestined cosmic necessity. Viktor WAS RIGHT TO HATE HIS FUCKING TERMINAL ILLNESS ARE THESE GUYS INSANE??! Wtf kind of message is Viktor embracing it as part of himself sending to vulnerable, impoverished and ill people? Is that supposed to be some kind of fucking comfort? Fuck off right to hell! And don't even get me STARTED on Jayce's trip to other-world hell being some kind of "Jayce seeing the world through Viktor's eyes" bs. Yes, it was good that our idealistic Jayce got to see the dark side of the Arcane as Viktor showed Jayce the beauty of the dream he sought for all people, but whatever message on class struggle Jayce is said to have learned or paralleled in his alternate timeline clearly didn't sink into his head because he still gave that dumbass speech to Viktor. And I'm glad if it resonated with any disabled people, but Viktor's struggle with his body was a protest against Piltover, not himself, and I hate that the writers gutted that character development. Viktor's and Jayce's paths "diverged a long time ago" because Jayce had the luxury and time of pursuing his dream while Viktor didn't. Viktor, even up there as a scholar of Piltover, was still getting the Zaunite treatment. Jayce had the time to pursue a better world, while Viktor had to struggle for a little more time. When Viktor becomes part of the arcane, suddenly he has all the time in the world to realize HIS OWN DREAM. Why would wanting a better world for others have to result in "dreamless solitude"? Viktor becoming obsessed with fixing what ailed humanity was warranted, and his extremism was hinted to have been due in part to the effect the arcane had on him, but it still made the themes of arcane a joke. There was so much potential and the writers (and showrunners) just squandered it for some more romantic bullshit.

Where season 2 FUMBLED:

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

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

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

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

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

And Then There's Jinx:

-Jinx and Isha: Isha's only use, as far as I'm concerned, was to be a reconciling force between the sisters. When Cait was willing to shoot her to get to Jinx, that should have stopped Vi right there and brought her back to defending Jinx 100% idc. When Isha sacrificed her life to save Jinx, that should have been Jinx's wake-up call right there and helped her understand why Vi kept leaving her out of missions as a kid. But instead what do we get? Depressed, suicidal Jinx and an astoundingly even more resentful and indifferent Vi. Vi still refuses to acknowledge her own hand in creating Jinx in the first place. Jinx, who has always wanted to be useful to those she loves. Who pursued her own hextech inventions in order to give her siblings a fighting chance when facing down Silco. Who wants to give Zaun a fighting chance as Silco's daughter. To be useful to the goals and dreams of her family. Isha was the perfect opportunity to bring the sisters together, but no. Instead, the kid was some kind of foreshadowing to Jinx's own heroic self-sacrifice for her sister (a message that left both sister's arcs unfinished). Vi had to acknowledge how wrong she was for abandoning Jinx and Zaun (instead of taking responsibility as Vander had taught her). Jinx needed to accept herself and the love others showed toward her (Silco, Vander, Ekko and Vi). Jinx keeps blowing things up because she repeatedly rejects herself (both Powder and Jinx), ignoring the good she's done and tried to do. Isha was a call back to the good Jinx has done and can continue to do for Zaun and others.

-Jinx and Ekko: Timebomb is the only ship that didn't ruin anyone's character, lmao. Because Ekko's and Jinx's relationship is precisely an exploration of how Piltover's violence against Zaun forced these children with entire futures ahead of them (they are both child prodigies) into endless war and hellish heroism. Ekko and Jinx are repeatedly shown to be hesitant and even unwilling to participate in violence against others, especially their own. Ekko does not hate Jinx, though he wants to, and Jinx does not like who she is when she's violent. She is trigger-happy because she already expects Vi and Ekko to want to kill her (projecting her self-loathing on them, but not entirely unreasonably). She doesn't have faith in their love or mercy because she doesn't see any part of herself as redeemable or loveable, which is why she consistently sabotages her life (but not without help from Vi and others). Ekko and Jinx are symbols of progress for Zaun AND Piltover (and Heimmerdinger saw that, especially when Ekko insisted he had to go back to his timeline, even if the one he had landed in was better). Heimmerdinger saw what they could have been in the alternate timeline, all the genius that was squandered in The Lanes. Jinx and Ekko are the ones most willing to put an end to violence and injustice because both of them are nostalgic for their families. Jinx just doesn't have the same faith in her ability to do so as Ekko does, but Ekko manages to convince her for a moment anyways. Ekko recognizes (like Silco, Viktor and Isha) how integral Jinx is to the creation of a new world. She injects colour and life and hope into Zaun and is the only one who can unite all warring factions in Zaun in the first place. Both her and Ekko are rebel leaders, but that is hardly used in Zaun's interests in the end. (ALSO THAT WHOLE CONVERSATION WITH VIKTOR AND JINX. This show would have won with a Viktor and Jinx team-up to unite Zaun--also in parallel to Jayce and Vi's team up. We could have had it all!)

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

Fumbling points summarized:

-Jinx not being radicalized by Isha's death and the sight of her sister hunting her down with enforcers.

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

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

-The commitment to saving Piltover instead of destroying it ruined so many arcs, most notoriously Vi's and Jinx's. This should have ended in a war between the two cities, not one where both fought against robo-people and Ambessa.

I could go into how the show fumbled Mel, Ekko, Sevika, Jayce and more, but I think they still fare better than the ones I've talked about here. Caitivi has now (narratively) become distasteful, jayvik a joke, and timebomb unnecessary misery porn with little to no reward for all their efforts.

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

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

[hyukascampfire]

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!

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Championship love

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Max one-shot inspired by him winning the championship for the fourth time !!

If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

You've been by Max's side for as long as you can remember. Teenagers with wild dreams and even wilder hearts, you both grew up together—through the awkward phases, the endless karting weekends, and the late-night phone calls where he shared his hopes of making it big in Formula 1. And he did. You’ve celebrated every step of his journey, but nothing compares to how you’ve marked each of his world championships together.

2011: The first time Max won the championship, it felt surreal. You were in Abu Dhabi, tears streaming down your face as he crossed the finish line and screamed over the radio. That night, back in the hotel room, it was just the two of you. Max was exhausted but glowing with pride, the trophy on the bedside table. He pulled you into his lap and kissed you like it was the first time, whispering, “This is just the beginning.”

2022: His second championship was no less thrilling. Max insisted on celebrating at home in Monaco, just the two of you again. He cooked you dinner—well, tried to. Half-burnt pasta and wine turned into laughter and slow dancing in the kitchen. He held you close, murmuring, “I couldn’t have done this without you.” You knew he meant it.

2023: The third title was chaotic—Sprint race in Qatar. But later that night, back at the motorhome, Max pulled you aside. His team was celebrating loudly in the background, but his focus was entirely on you. “Three-time world champion,” he said, smirking. “But being yours is still my favorite title.”

And now, here you are in Las Vegas. Max’s fourth championship.

The moment he crosses the line, you can barely hear the roar of the crowd over your own cheering. Your chest swells with pride as the fireworks explode over the track. It feels like a culmination of everything you’ve built together—his hard work, your unwavering support, and the love that’s only grown stronger with time.

Later that night, the team throws a party in one of the grand casinos. The celebration is lavish, the energy electric, but Max never lets go of your hand. Every so often, he leans down to kiss your temple or whispers something only for you to hear. He’s glowing, but there’s something else in his eyes—a secret, maybe, or anticipation.

Hours later, he whisks you away from the crowd, leading you to the rooftop of your hotel. The view is breathtaking—Las Vegas glittering like a sea of stars, a warm breeze wrapping around you both. You laugh, spinning to face him. “What are we doing up here?”

Max looks at you, his blue eyes soft and steady. He takes your hands in his, thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “I wanted to end this night with just us,” he says. “Like we always do.”

Your heart swells. “You’re getting sentimental, Verstappen.”

He chuckles but doesn’t look away. “I have a good reason.”

Before you can ask what he means, Max drops to one knee.

Time stops.

Your breath catches as he pulls a small velvet box from his pocket. “You’ve been with me through everything—every win, every loss, every moment in between. I can’t imagine doing this without you. I don’t want to do this without you.” He opens the box, revealing a stunning ring that glitters even brighter than the city lights. “Will you marry me?”

Tears blur your vision as you nod frantically, a smile breaking across your face. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “Of course, yes.”

Max stands, slipping the ring onto your finger before pulling you into his arms. The kiss you share feels like every dream you’ve ever had coming true.

“You just made this the best championship celebration ever,” you say against his lips.

He grins, pressing his forehead to yours. “I think this one’s my favorite too.”

Under the Vegas sky, with the world at your feet, you know this moment is just the beginning of a lifetime of celebrations—together.

[band--psycho]

Vander x Reader - In Another Life (Part 1)

SPOILERS FROM ACT 3 - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Vander Masterlist / Arcane Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Thank you to everyone who's sent in a request so far! I'm absolutely loving the ideas you guys are sharing and will get to work on them soon! 💛

Requests are still open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

Thank you all for the continued support!💛

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

The way I sobbed during this first episode when I saw Vander again!

I just had to write this afterwards - I hope you all enjoy this!

You woke with a start, your heart beating at a rapid pace as a light bead of sweat formed on your forehead. 

You stayed like that for a minute, just sitting upright in the bed as you began to catch your breath; your eyes focusing on the environment around you. 

You weren’t in your bedroom. 

In fact, you didn’t really know where you were…it was weird, although this place seemed so different to you, it felt oddly familiar at the same time.

The last thing you could remember was being in the room with the hexcore in it. 

Ekko…Heimerdinger…Jayce…where were they?

Thoughts were running around in your mind faster than you could keep up with them; you’d barely finished one thought before another one took over, as you tried to work out what the hell happened and where the hell you were. 

‘Am I dead?’ you thought to yourself, running your hands over your face. 

But all your thoughts were halted when you heard the door to your side creek open; followed by a voice that confirmed you must’ve been dead, or just completely losing your mind.

Vanders voice….

“Good morning, sleepyhead, or should I say afternoon,” he chuckled; a sound that made your heart ache, and yet at the same time, made you feel all warm and fuzzy. 

It was a sound that you never thought you’d hear again… 

A sound that had made you feel safe; regardless of what was going on, even now when you had no idea what was going on. 

You heard his footsteps getting closer to you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

Not even for a second, just in case this was just your mind playing a foul trick on you. 

It wasn’t long before the sounds of his footsteps stopped and the bed that you were sitting on dipped as Vander sat in front of you.  

He lifted his hand to your face, tilting your chin up with his thumb, “You okay, sweetheart?”

His touch; it felt so real, so real that it made you sure it wasn’t your mind deceiving you. 

It couldn’t have been. 

Vander quite often occupied your dreams, and in every single one of them, his touch had never felt as real as it did in this very moment. 

“Am I dead?” The words fell from your lips before you could stop them, coming out in a small whisper.

Your eyes met Vanders gray ones, that’s when you noticed the worry that was slowly building inside them as he stared at you. 

“No, darl,” he cooed, wrapping his other hand around your waist, lifting you out of the bed momentarily before placing you in his lap, “you're safe.”

Safe.

You hadn’t been safe in a long time. 

And yet, here you were feeling safer then you had in years, with a man who should’ve been dead.

Your man. 

The love of your life. 

He was here. 

He was alive. 

You could hear his heart beating as you snuggled into his chest, savoring the all too familiar scent of Vander….smoke, fire and alcohol, mixing together with a small amount of cologne he loved to wear. 

“You’re alive…” you breathed, tentatively reaching out to touch his cheek. 

He seemed different. 

But in a good way.

The dark circles that were once under his eyes were pretty much all but gone; and his eyes seemed happier than when you knew him, as though he was free from all the stress that once plagued him. 

“Course I am, darl,” he assured you with a small smile; before pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head, hoping that his small action would be able to ease your mind. 

It didn’t. Not really at least. 

You were so confused. 

You didn't understand what was happening.

You tried to blink back the tears that were forming in your eyes, tried to keep yourself together so you could figure out what was happening. 

So you could think logically. 

But there was nothing logical about any of this…the arcane….magic…it wasn’t something that was logical. 

But now, being wrapped up in Vanders arms again, made you want to throw logic to the wind and just stay like this with him for as long as you possible could, not knowing how long this could last.

You didn’t know what was happening, or how, or why; all you knew was that Vander was here. 

That was all that mattered.

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @barbersjoy @conretewings @the-lone-librarian @cass-brightwood @fortune-fool02 @arielpanda1 @mothratic @simping-ella @stickyrice5096 @levis-butterfingers @lesbianinyourarea @eternallyvenus @trixiex2 @nagislemontea @dazecrea @littlejoyfullthing

[stylestarkey]

TWO DOORS DOWN │ 01

𐙚 a rafe cameron social media au

pairings — famous!rafe X pogue!femaleOC (f.c christina nadin)

summary — IN WHICH the cameron siblings turn to social media in a desperate attempt to track their childhood neighbour, who also turns out to be a huge fan of sarah.

warnings — swearing!

navigation — masterlist 01 02

liked by rafecameron, cameronupdates and 210,901 others

sarahcameron  found this pic as rafe & i were looking through the family photo album ! help us find the girl on the left, all he remembers is she used to bite rafe when we were neighbours in figure 8 LOL so insta, do your thing 👀

view all comments

user1 BABY SARAH ↳ user2 THE WAY RAFE IS HOLDING HER- ↳  sarahcameron don’t be fooled, he used to chase me with scissors ↳  user2 i- ↳  user3  THATS MY DREAM ↳  user4  WAKE UP queen just did her vs runway debut and y’all are thirsting over rafe ... ↳  user3  can u blame us

topperthornton  is she the reason why rafe has a scar on his right arm ↳  sarahcameron  yes and i’m glad she did that ↳  rafecameron  might have to tattoo it ngl ↳  user5  please do!! i'll get the same tattoo <3

user6  y’all better find this girl NOW

rafecameron  5 year old me had a teeny crush on her ↳  user7  WHAT ↳  user8  why not me ↳  user9  unknown girl is the luckiest person rn and she probably doesn’t even know it

user9  do you know her name? ↳  rafecameron  used to call her elle. ↳  user10  KING REPLIED SJNKDFNJSFJZ ↳  user11  are u still breathing ↳  user10  no. i’m moaning

cleoanderson  @/kiecarrera this could be elyna HAHAHA ↳  kiecarrera  a girl can dream! ↳  elynajavier  wait guys that’s me ↳  cleoanderson  girl don’t play w us

user12  that’s mee! ↳  user13  no way bcs that’s me too ↳  user14 shut up OMG she's my sister ↳ user15 this fandom has reached the peak level of delusion

note 𐙚 — hii! this is my first smau & first time actually posting so i honestly don't know how being a tumblr writer works BUT one thing i know is that it takes soo much time (also with exporting photos). i'll try to make a decent masterlist / nav. / tag list soon but enjoy this for now! i'm currently on uni break so hopefully this keeps me busy. lmk your thoughts!! - H <3

[southern-gothic-comic]

Page 86

Next 💜 Back 🖤 First

Patreon 💜 Art Prints 🖤Books!

(Author's Notes)

Panel 1: Evening in the cottage. Imogen is frowning over a library book while Laudna is working her way through a basket of assorted clothing, casting Mending on each one. Holding a needle, she's weaving her hands in a sewing motion over the torn article of clothing. Spectral red threads converge over the tear.

Laudna: Can you see well enough, darling? I wouldn't want you to hurt your eyes.

Imogen: Yeah, it's fine. I'm not gettin' much out of this book, anyway.

Panel 2: Imogen stretches, rubbing her eyes.

Laudna: Nothing about red storms? Prophetic dreams? The sudden, unannounced arrival of psychic powers?

Imogen: Not a thing.

Laudna: Hmm. Well, we can always go back to the library tomorrow.

Panel 3: Imogen pulls her feet up and rests her chin on her knees, watching Laudna. She sets the now-whole, folded clothing aside and picks up a new one.

Laudna: We can do something else if you'd like. I'll be finished with this much sooner than they're expecting at the tailor's.

Imogen: No, it's fun to watch you do that.

Laudna: Thank you! I've always enjoyed it. I used to do this as a girl, to help bring a little extra money into the house.

Panel 4: Close on the child's dress in her lap as the red threads reattach a little heart-shaped pocket.

Laudna: My mother would “take on mending” for the neighbors but it was really me patching it up. They all said what fine work she did. Of course, we couldn't let anyone see how I was doing it, so I've never had an appreciative audience before.

Panel 5: Imogen's smile fades. She looks keenly at Laudna, who has become very intent on folding the dress in her hands and is avoiding her gaze.

Imogen: How old were you?

Laudna: Oh . . . I started when I was about twelve, or so.

Imogen: Your parents put you to work that young?

Laudna: I didn't mind, really. I enjoyed being useful. And it gave me something productive to do, since I wasn't in school anymore, and . . .

Imogen: They pulled you out of school?!

Panel 6: Ducking her head, Laudna looks at Imogen through her hair, with a strange kind of reserved hopefulness.

Laudna: Not . . . because of that. And I was nearly of an age where I would have been allowed to leave, anyway. It was after the . . . the incident, with the boys at school. You don't . . . remember?

Imogen: No, I don't think you've told me about this part.

Laudna: Oh.

[phantomwithbreakfast]

First of all, I am never doing this style again—I think. I was trying out something new, even when this wasn’t planned first!

Anyway, I was working on this piece, when something shot through my mind. Yeah, that scar. And I began to write a story—Of course I did.

(Sketch of this one is lurking on the bottom of this post, lol)

The story is called Scarred For Half A Life.

Why this title? Well. Because Danny is half human—alive, and half ghost—dead. Instead of ‘Scarred for life’. Bad joke, I know.

Published first two chapters here.

———————

Genre: Angst/Pain And Comfort (and a little Horror)

Trigger Warning: Emotional Distress — Violence — Graphic Content

Rating: M

———————

Summary:

Danny had been captured by the GiW once again, or so he thinks. Leaving him feeling utterly helpless—vulnerable. There was nothing he could do. What will happen to him? And why again?

Spoiler:

Was he here—there? Trapped in some forbidden wasteland in the middle of a desolate desert? He couldn’t even remember how he had ended up in this place. His mind scrambled for answers, but nothing came. What had happened? Back home… did he even still have a home? Or was this lifeless prison now his new reality? How long had he already been here? Days? Weeks?

His mind grew hazy, a dense fog clouding his thoughts and erasing his memories, one by one, as they slipped into the unreachable corners of his mind. He fought desperately to stay conscious, clinging to the faint hope that this was nothing more than a terrible dream—a nightmare he might eventually wake from. But the fight was slipping from his grasp. His body was too weak, his strength utterly spent. The darkness pressed in, heavy and unrelenting, until he couldn’t hold on any longer. With a final, defeated breath, he surrendered to the pitch-black void—a hollow, empty space that led to… nothing.

———————

Sketch of Danny. When he would be 17 years old, maybe? I don’t know.

He looks tired. I am aware.

[moonbaby26]

Title: Blood and Feathers

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Pairing: Rosinante/Corazon x Fem!Reader x Doflamingo

Warnings: language, non con, dub con, size difference, reader is cheated on (not by the brothers), reader is stalked/abducted, reader is double teamed, vaginal sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, animal instincts/behaviors, blood, violence, toxic relationships, breeding kink

Synopsis: Set in a modern!AU. You are an avian veterinarian dealing with a recent life upheaval. Years ago, you also had a traumatic experience with creatures mainstream science still denies as even existing. But memories of that night were soon buried, relegated to your dreams alone. Or so you had thought.

A/N: This oneshot was inspired both by @tuquidflamingo‘s gorgeous Harpy!Doffy fanart for Doffytober2024 Day 24:Mythical Here, and @froggiewrites’s terrifyingly sexy Siren!Doffy fic Mating Call Here. I needed more bird!Donquixotes after seeing those works and could not restrain myself. This was originally intended as monster/horror themed for Halloween as well, but I’m way late to the party (as usual 😅).

Fic Masterlist

—————————

“You poor darling. The boys haven’t been very nice to you have they?” You frowned to your newest patient. A female dove, slightly fearful in your grip as you held her gently from behind in a small towel within your hand.

The hallmarks of overbreeding were evident to you in all the missing feathers near the back of her head. 

Some single minded Lotharios within her previous enclosure had plucked her practically raw while doing their overeager business on her from behind no doubt.

“Remember. Men are all the same, sweetheart. They only care about one thing.” You mumbled, not particularly worried of how bitter you still sounded while you felt her chest and keel bone next. That bone’s prominence signaling her being rather underweight to your additional concern. 

Not that you’d been eating much either, or maintaining a healthy mindstate at all. Just like hers, your life had also gone quite to shit recently.

Just two days ago you’d come home early, only to find your boyfriend of the last few years balls deep and moaning within the newest assistant from his law office.

And you’d thought he really was going to have a heart attack when he’d finally seen you standing there.

But his new young lover had only smiled, cool as anything.

“Oops.” She’d said, still on top of your fiancé and almost sweetly staring over her shoulder at you.

Her long fingernails had left trails of raised scratches all over his chest and sides. Which you’d seen so distinctly as he’d sat up in a panic to plea to you.

Of course, there would have been no way he could have hidden that evidence later even if you hadn’t caught them in the act. 

As you’d dragged suitcases out and begun throwing what you could into them, he’d had the gall to swear to you too that it was both his first and last time with her. 

He’d even tried to blame her, as if he’d had no say in it all.

But you’d just taken your engagement ring off and thrown it so hard it’d ricocheted off of the wall and rolled to God knew where.

To whatever void your trust and self confidence had now plummeted into most likely.

Yet the apartment lease had only been in his name. So in just that single afternoon, you’d gone from daydreams of a winter wedding to officially homeless and with mascara running down both sides of your face. All with strangers staring at you on your march of shame back through the parking garage.

You didn’t even tell anyone afterward. Because you’d had no one close enough to you to tell.

You were living out of a hotel room now. Nowhere to land as of yet as you’d still went to your normal veterinary job uptown during the day. And to this volunteer time at the avian rehab center just outside of the city each night. 

The only consistently listening ears for you now were sick and troubled birds. Either domestic seizures from hoarding and animal cruelty cases like this dove, or sometimes just wild raptors and waterfowl that’d had an acute turn of bad luck.

You’d seen it all at one point or another. But every day was different. And yet only more of the same all at once.

Until tonight, when it absolutely wasn’t.

You were here alone. Staying much later than you normally would, because the company of the birds was still better than hearing your neighbors arguing through those thin hotel walls that were now all you had to go back to.

Besides this dove’s occasional cooing, and your own words of continued self pity, you also had a constant rotation of true crime podcasts, murder mysteries, and tales of the supernatural droning on from your phone still on the counter. 

It was very fitting for a rainy, cold night like this one.

And in a bit of a playful holiday segment in between those longer tales, it was then some of those two sentence horror stories.  

The narrator had just read one of your favorites in their best Vincent Price impersonation. 

“The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. 

There was a knock on the door.”

You smirked of course. Your imagination flooding with all that unnamed man’s possible fates and an idea that he may actually deserve them now, before the lights abruptly went out above you.

Both you and the dove had startled with that plunge into darkness. But under the dim glow of the battery backup lights which came on after, around the fire exit signs, you quickly silenced those additional horror teases from your phone.

“Maybe they missed a power bill again.” You’d told the dove softly as you’d returned her to the temporary holding cages. 

Funding was always tight for a non profit like this. People just weren’t as giving when sick vultures and irritable corvids didn’t end up as marketable as sad kittens on the donation commercials.

But, this could also be the universe’s sign for you to give in and go home.

Wherever the hell home was supposed to be now.

You’d pulled your exam gloves inside out, trashing them before washing and drying your hands.

A coat, purse, and umbrella were all you had to gather before walking into that now near pitch black hallway.

There was only the slight squeak of your shoes on the linoleum floor for those few precious seconds of normalcy you’d had left. 

And then came the first metal bang.

Like a knock.

And the next one which followed it. 

Echoing through the darkness before you.

Something heavy and urgent was slamming against the metal door which led to the rear parking lot.

The parking lot that backed up to the woods. Where your car and thereby only way back to the city now was.

Even then, the logic in you still refused to fully slip however. Though your heart did beat far faster in your confusion.

You could hear many birds beginning to rustle in their cages in other rooms, bothered by the new noises as well.

You wanted to comfort them, but you knew they wouldn’t understand.

Did you even understand?

You still had your phone of course. You could call the police and just wait here, locked inside if you were actually that afraid.

But outside of the city limits like this, response time would be awful unless you’d be lucky enough that a random patrol car may be nearby.

You didn’t want some judgmental cop showing up thirty minutes from now, to look at you like you were a complete idiot if you said just being in the dark with strange noises was enough to have you needing rescue.

Your hand was already in your purse though, fingers around the beveled case of your phone as everything went silent again.

And then you heard the door pull open.

That door was an exit only. If another volunteer had forgotten something or come back this late for any other reason, they’d have taken the side path up to the front and unlocked the front door instead just as you had a couple of hours ago.

There was no key to the back door. It was always locked on the outside.

Unless the latch had just been broken off.

Which would explain the banging.

Your heart was moving into your throat by then as you’d sidestepped into the nearest room in the dark.

It was this facility’s single operating room.

And by some grace above you didn’t run into anything. You squatted with your back to the wall as you fumbled to pull your phone fully from your purse.

You couldn’t remember if the emergency dispatch in this area was setup to accept text messages like they could in the city.

If you spoke into this silence to call someone, it’d be the equivalent to screaming though.

Your hands were shaking as you typed instead.

And it was additionally cruel really.

Because your mind hadn’t yet overwritten years worth of habit, even as much as he’d hurt you.

You found yourself texting your ex.

<break in. call police. the rehab. help>

Your fingers moved faster than you thought you’d ever commanded them to then. You’d hit send and watched as that message changed to delivered.

And then…

You heard that stupid trill of his phone from the hallway. 

That custom alert you’d heard far too many times to count as his phone had always gone off at all hours from important clients in the duration you’d been together.

Your brain stuttered.

And you heard a female’s laugh.

“Oh, that is embarrassing…” Said the somehow familiar female voice. It was equal parts amusement and mockery now. “She’s still here alright.”

And then a man whose voice you did not recognize, called your name outright before you could think any further. “Please, (Y/N)…there’s no reason to make this harder than it has to be. Please just come out. We’re not going to hurt you.”

But the woman quickly disagreed with him. “No. He said we could do this however we needed to. We’d still be outside in the rain if it was all up to you.”

“Be silent. I’m trying to listen.” The man retorted, yet with his voice lowering to match her own irritation.

“Hmm…no. Not needed. I already smell her.” Came her even sharper response after just another moment. 

And you heard something clicking on the tile at that, faster than you could believe as it ran closer.

“Monet!” The male voice was right behind it though, dropping into a range more akin to a snarl before a shadow came bursting through that open operating room door towards you.

You knew her name.

In the emergency lighting you only had a moment to see a glimpse of her once beautiful face too, contorted into a ferocity more akin to a rabid animal before she lunged down to meet you at your still crouched position. 

Her slender hand had closed around your airway as if it were all second nature.

Fingernails too sharp to be real dug in as she forced your back onto the ground.

You were choking. And staring up into the now wild eyes of your ex-fiancé’s young assistant.

Monet.

The girl he’d fucked right in front of you just two days ago.

But then she was gone. Swatted away as if she were nothing in one audible hit.

Your throat was still stinging, scratched but not wholly cut as you tried to sit up in a renewed rush of adrenaline.

“Just take her car and go goddammit! You’re going to tear this place apart if you can’t control yourself! This is exactly why I wanted you to wait outside!” That male voice now had a clear source as well. He stood easily over the both of you. Still with his hand that had struck her splayed out like a claw.

What had to be light blond hair hung messily in his angry eyes as he took your purse and threw it at her.

“Take her car back to her hotel! Keep her phone, and make sure she didn’t call anyone!”

It was like he was scolding a child now, as if she had already been told a thousand times how this all should be.

But she was panting, smiling at him even as she did.

“I just want a taste…for all of our trouble.” She breathed.

And he stepped further between the two of you.

“I said no.”

She hissed through her teeth, but you saw him straighten up in response. His lean body seeming to tighten even more in the dark.

“Go!” And that order was truly a snarl from him that time.

Her eyes widened and she clawed the floor, briefly on all fours before scurrying back up. 

You could not see her feet clearly in the shadows, but you heard them.

That same clicking sound that had come from the hall before she’d run in.

Like talons moving across the ground.

You didn’t realize how much you were still shaking either before that man’s rock solid grip had grabbed you next.

You were pulled up by your arm.

And Monet was already gone with your purse, meaning she had your keys and phone as well.

She’d had your ex’s phone too.

Was he even alive any longer?

A sound of desperation left you as this tall man forced you down the hall and to that exit door they’d first broken in through.

You’d known it all had to be purposeful then. 

When the power had been cut, the two outdoor security cameras would have gone down as well.

No one would ever see him dragging you out of this door and into the rainy night.

They’d likely waste days interviewing people at the hotel instead once Monet returned your car there.

People you’d never even made eye contact with long enough for them to remember your face would just shrug and say they hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

No one would ever find your body.

“Walk.” His voice was still harsh as he’d hurried you outside, across the parking lot, and immediately down a muddied path into the woods.

It wasn’t clear which direction he’d even taken you in after just a few minutes.

In the dark, the trails all looked the same. And you could only watch as his clothes hung on him, dripping in the light rain.

The forest had gone silent save for that rain and the two of you. As all animals often quieted when an apex predator moved through.

He was oddly barefoot too, striding across the wet and fallen leaves. Just in pants and a t-shirt which now stuck across his broad chest.

“You really don’t remember me at all, do you?” He asked suddenly.

And you were still floundering mentally, trying to keep up with his long legs in the darkness.

“My real name is Rosinante.” He said in lack of any answer from you though. “We’ve met before.” And his large hand squeezed your arm tighter. 

He sounded like his frustration was only growing. His next words were especially accusatory. “If I’d had any idea you were still this close to the mountains…why didn’t you leave?”

His grip hurt, and you were stumbling often now, just trying to keep up.

“I don’t…I don’t know what you want.” You stammered, sounding so pathetic that it easily could have been a stranger’s voice in your ears then.

“I didn’t want him to find you!” He shot back. And at last his relentless pace began to slow. “I thought you moved away! Why the hell would you come back here!?”

And only then was something finally beginning to click within your memories. 

Because it was that desperation in his voice. 

Even if that tone was so much deeper now than the boy’s it reminded you of.

“…Cora?” You asked, your eyes wide while you stared up at this frightening man.

But he looked like something had just broken within him as you’d called him that. He’d stopped walking entirely, and you saw the true pain which crossed his face.

A lean, handsome face, with messy blond hair and rainwater dripping down in a way that could have easily been mistaken for tears.

Tears just like the young blond you’d found crying alone in the forest one summer.

The teen who’d said he didn’t know what to do any longer. And that he’d missed his parents so much and he just couldn’t keep pretending.

You’d thought he was a runaway. But he’d seemed so close to your own age, you hadn’t ratted him out to your aunt and cousins you’d been staying with in the mountain cabin that summer.

You’d snuck him food instead, and for those few months that summer break, you had hiked out to visit him every day at your and his secret rendezvous spot.

Eventually he’d said you could call him Corazon, or Cora for short. It meant “heart” in Spanish. The native language from wherever he had really fled from. And a nickname his late mother had given him.

Her little heart.

But he had a big one. Because he was so kind to you. Something you hadn’t been used to. And you’d both loved exploring and talking together for hours on end.

He’d even taught you a special whistle and song he’d said had also come from his mother and original home.

And so often at night you would hear that sound as you’d snuck from your bedroom to see him over and over again.

He’d known you loved birds by then. That you had dreams of going to school to learn more to help as many of them as you could someday.

But when you’d follow that special sound to find him at night, he’d also point right to where any owl or other raptor you’d missed during the day was hiding that he had found. 

Just so that you could see them too.

But near the end of that summer, you’d told him you’d have to be going back to the city soon. School would be starting again. You hadn’t finished high school yet. But you’d definitely come back next summer before going to college. You’d promised him that.

He’d seemed so sad regardless though, and that had hurt you too.

He’d even disappeared for a few days. You had gotten worried.

But on one of those last nights, you’d heard that special sound again.

So of course you had rushed to it.

But Corazon hadn’t been there.

A laugh had come from above you instead in the darkness.

One you could never forget just before you’d thought part of a tree had somehow fallen down on you.

Because your breath had been gone, a heavy weight impacting your chest with a crack of your ribs.

You couldn’t even scream. The splayed claws that had first struck your chest, had then spread for thin legs to straddle you as your back had hit the dirt.

And then it had bitten you.

Straight through your shirt and over the top of your shoulder. 

Your arms had come up uselessly as those fangs had sunken in.

Yet one of your hands had raked against thick, soft feathers, while the other had caught into spiked blond hair.

Utterly nonsensical in those contrasting parts between human and animal as its wings had encircled you.

But the creature had groaned at your every touch. With its long tongue then lapping at your blood running from the flesh it had broken.   

All while bony hips in torn capris pants had begun to move purposefully against your pajamas.

You hadn’t known what to do. 

You’d just remembered feeling warm.

But so afraid.

And confused.

And then a furious screech like no bird you had ever heard, came diving down like retribution from the sky. 

Loud enough that your attacker had had to look upward. His young face framed in your blood within the moonlight while he’d grinned to the heavens.

He’d been terrifying.

He’d also been beautiful.

But the two monsters had collided. Wings had scraped the ground, flapping violently while talons had tangled, striking each other’s bare torsos over and over as they’d rolled away from you.

The sounds had been fully inhuman, hissing and screaming with splatters of their blood then mixing with yours already on the ground.

Yet you’d been frozen amongst that raw violence.

“Go!” The one with the solid black wings had called out hoarsely though. While it’d tried to even briefly pin down the other one that had attacked you. That slightly larger creature whose wings had been both a dark pink and black.

The one that had still had pieces of your skin within his scowling maw.

“Please! Go and never come back!” The finality and heartbreak in that plea from your strange protector had also been seared into your memories that night.

The same voice that was now years older, with eyes that much sadder as Corazon still stared down at you in the present day.

“It is you.” You spoke in quiet shock. “You’re okay.”

“Why would you come back!?” He demanded again though, regardless of your sudden realization. “He saw your face in all those damned pictures Monet brought to him! He’s been trying to get leverage on everyone from the district attorney’s office all year. Information about their spouses, their kids, and…”

He sneered. His teeth had grit together. And you’d never seen that expression on Corazon.

He was so angry with you.

“You were really going to marry that spineless piece of shit from the D.A.’s office!? He sold you out in a heartbeat! Where you worked, where you were staying…everything. Doffy didn’t even have to touch him! He works for him now!”

Doffy.

His brother Doflamingo?

Corazon had told you long before the attack back then that he’d had an older brother.

The one he had really been running from when you’d first met.

But Doflamingo had caught up to you both in the end.

Even if you hadn’t fully understood it then.

Because you hadn’t known what Corazon truly was.

“I did move away, Cora. I got sent to freaking therapy because my family thought I was acting out for attention!” You blurted defensively.

They’d blamed you for sneaking out. Everyone had told you over and over that it’d only been a rabid bobcat, or a coyote, something like that that had gotten a hold of you that night.

The rabies shots that followed had been an awful regimen. But the shouts that you were just a delusional teenager making up stories about boys with bird wings had been even worse.

It’d been like being branded somehow. 

A permanent outcast.

And truly, you had been marked. The bite scars on your shoulder were still why you’d never wear a tank top or a swimsuit in public.

Yes, right after veterinary school you’d settled for the first man who hadn’t utterly despised you. Your standards had been that low.

But he’d still wanted to chase money and status, and to take his law degree back to the most populated part of the region to accomplish that.

So it was either break up or follow him back towards this place you’d once run from.

Yet how could you know any of this would ever actually find you again? That had been years ago.

Why would they even still remember you?

“You really don’t get it. Do you?” Corazon answered to that disbelief still on your face. “I swore to Doffy that if he let you go that night, I’d never run from him again. That I’d submit and serve him just the way he’s always expected the whole world to.” But he made another sound of disgust, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I can’t stop him again. There’s nothing else he wants that he doesn’t already have this time.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say I have everything I want.”

Your eyes had still been trained on Corazon, so you didn’t miss the way he immediately bristled at the new voice.

Cora stood at his full height then too, looking up to the branches above with hatred etched on his face.

And the monster laughed in response.

Just like that night as your insides twisted for the sound.

But also like Cora’s voice, that laugh was deeper now too.

Even more menacing.

They had both grown up. 

And now you were all together again.

You moved behind Corazon instinctively as Doflamingo leapt down from the branches overhead.

He landed, letting those massive wings spread as he straightened up.

It was a purposeful display of power and size you were sure while he grinned wide. 

The whites of his fangs reflected the remaining moonlight almost as much as that single glowing red eye of his. The other eye had been scarred, taken from him long ago.

“Do you know how rare it is for me to come play in the mud with the rest of you any longer?” Doflamingo taunted, crouching a little then to better see you around Corazon’s tall frame. 

Yet just like back then, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on that creature either. It was all tan skin, stretched tight over bones and muscle as you could see his every breath. 

He was only in dark pants that looked as if they were once the bottom of an expensive, tailored suit.

The mockery of the perfect male form really. Almost human in his silhouette, save for those grand wings where arms should have been, the tail feathers which ran out from the small of his back, and the thinner, scaled over legs coming from the bottom of his pants cuffs. With splayed feet ending in razor sharp talons which now sank into the wet ground beneath him.

His weight shifted, as if he didn’t much like that feel of the dirt either. “I’d prefer meeting in my penthouse on East 22nd these days.” Doflamingo taunted as proof of that observation. “But…I thought this reunion might get a bit messy. And we did just have new carpets put in.”

“I told you I’d bring her to the lakehouse though just as you’d asked. Why are you out here already!?” Corazon barked abruptly anyway, yet you could hear that edge of renewed fear already beginning in his voice.

Doflamingo’s head tilted slightly, that amusement only growing in response. “Well, I was feeling nostalgic. How long has it been, Rosi? Since you and I really got to catch prey together?”

“We’re not doing anything like that!” Cora growled immediately.

“Feh. Quit pretending, little brother. And quit hiding who you really are.” He scolded Corazon outright that time. “This is what you want too, and we both know it. You wanted it that night as well. I was only trying to show you where to start.”

“You were going to kill her!” Cora breathed out. His hands had tightened into fists.

“Not necessarily,” Doflamingo still corrected, condescending as anything. “Actually, I doubt I would have. Don’t you remember why?” And an even deeper cruelty began to seep out with those words.

Something Corazon apparently understood that you did not.

“Shut up!” 

“Oh, stop it. We were young, yes. But not in nature’s eyes. She wouldn’t have smelled that way if-“

“I said shut up!”

And Doflamingo laughed again. “You should have been guarding her better then. Instead of running away to hide just because she was ready that night. She came right to me after all…”

“Because you tricked her!”

“You taught her our call…why wouldn’t I use it?”

The special sound.

And Doflamingo did it suddenly then.

His expression changed.

You could mimic it, but not the way they did. It came up from deep within their chests. Like a music note in its pleasantness to you.

You’d ran from your bed many a summer night to find Cora making that sound for you deep within the woods.

And you’d never really wondered why no one else in the cabin had seemed to notice or wake like you did.

Like this song was only meant for you.

It made your body feel warm again. It made you want to follow.

“Stop it!” Cora’s anger snapped you from your daze.

And only then did you realize you had begun to walk towards his brother.

Doflamingo frowned as Corazon had pushed you back behind him once more.

“You are the shining beacon of utter futility, Rosinante. As always.” He tutted, pausing only a moment longer as he readjusted his rain dampened feathers with some frustration.

The weather had changed to more of a hanging mist now. And you knew it was still cold out here. But you didn’t feel it much anymore.

You were still trying to process what Doflamingo had tried to say. 

She wouldn’t have smelled that way if-

Had they been fighting over you because…

“Come on, Rosi. I’ve been more than fair here. Stop stalling and change already.” Doflamingo warned a bit more impatiently then, pulling those pink and black wings back closer towards his bare torso.

As if he was just now noticing the cold himself.

“But why does it have to be her!? You could have anyone…just…pick someone else, Doffy!” 

And even as a grown man now, you could still hear so much of that boy within Corazon.

Doflamingo evidently heard it too. “Quit whining!” Was what he snapped back. “I’m tired of seeing you mope around! Gutless and useless…this isn’t solely for me. Over and over you tell me how selfish I am. How cruel I am. And yet I put something desirable out for you, practically force feed it to you, and still you complain!”

“Because she has a right to choose her own mate!”

“What? Like that coward she was already living with? You’d let a rodent like him usurp what’s yours!?”

“She’s NOT property! She…she’s-”

“She’s tired of listening to this drivel.” Doflamingo sneered.

And it was all begun there in an instant.

In one lunge and kick, the elder brother had cast his physical lesser decisively to the side.

Your shield was gone.

And you were slammed against the then splintering bark of a tree as that wet maw opened right against your face.

The pain of the hit had made your body try to gasp. But it was as if Doflamingo had known that was exactly what you would do, with his tongue ready to make that his invitation as he forced his way in.

That tongue was warm and long as his wings closed around you.

You were trapped against the tree.

With the sheer heat of his body making you hypersensitive for every place he now pressed himself against you.

This was real.

This was going to happen this time.

And you tasted something metallic on his tongue aa well. A mix of blood and earthiness, warm and purposeful as his fangs bumped against your own far duller teeth.

He had made sure your mouth stayed open long enough as you felt something heavier than his spit slide into it.

“Swallow.” Doflamingo whispered, with his wet lips then still against yours while you felt that odd mixture hit the back of your throat.

You knew exactly what that was.

And what it meant to accept it.

Corazon called your name from somewhere so close as he’d stood again. But there was nothing else he could do.

You didn’t want Cora to be hurt either though. You didn’t want to ever have to leave him alone with his brother again.

But this was the price of staying.

And you were finally willing to make that deal.

Even if it now pleased the devil himself.

Doflamingo did growl in satisfaction too, his face briefly nuzzling down against yours once you had breathed in again, signaling your throat was clear.

He’d just fed you for the very first time.

A familial intimacy reserved only for those most dear.

“Change and hold her for me, Rosi.” Came the command to his brother which followed.

But you couldn’t look away from him. 

Doflamingo had straightened his back again. That red eye gleaming down at you.

“My little Corazon has missed you for so long…but I think he still needs convincing to let that out. So let’s help him. Together. You do want to help him…don’t you, my sweet?” And Doflamingo’s voice was taking on a bit of that special resonance again.

As he stepped back away from the tree, you did follow without being stopped this time. His soft wings grazed your sides. 

It felt so very good.

You wanted to bury yourself within the affection of those wings and never rise to see the light again.

But Doflamingo lowered them as he led you further.

Enough that you could now fully see Corazon again.

Corazon with that stricken look of devastation, as if he were watching your death in slow motion right before him. With his eyes even damper now than the weather could possibly be blamed for.

That stab of pain within you for your realization of what he was actually enduring carried even through Doflamingo’s spell on you then.

Your lip quivered. “It’s alright, Cora…” You pleaded softly. “Just do as he says…I’m okay.”

And Doflamingo chuckled.

The heartbreak between the two of you only seemed to fuel him further.

“See? She already forgives you. So show her what you really are. Let’s finish this.” Doflamingo ordered his brother even more darkly.

You both understood the threat behind those words if either of you should dare disobey him. 

Cora’s spirit was visibly crumbling.

Which made you feel all the more desperate to touch him, to comfort him.

You had missed him so much too, almost having started to believe that that part of your life really had been some sort of self induced hallucination over the years.

That you hadn’t experienced your very first feelings of romantic love with some blond, teen runaway in the woods one summer.

That you actually were just crazy.

“It’s okay.” You reiterated to him. And Doflamingo allowed you to reach for Cora.

The younger brother did take your outstretched hand for a moment too. He squeezed it tightly in his larger one as his eyes offered you a last look of misery.

But that grip was already changing. 

He had seemingly accepted your choice.

Corazon’s pale skin began to darken along his arms. The shirt he wore which had already been badly torn from Doflamingo’s earlier kick, he now used his other hand to rip off completely.

That fabric was discarded like trash as he then stood before you in only pants, the same as his brother.

And the prior lack of shoes made all the sense in the world as you saw the skin of his feet scaling over and those talons forming against the ground as well.

But the thing that captured your attention the most were the feathers as they began to bud. Piercing through the then fully darkened skin of his arms one by one as cartilage loudly popped and bones shifted.

Corazon’s arms elongated in time with his legs, that wingspan taking shape as he finally let go of your hand to spread those emerging flight feathers before they could touch the ground.

They were all solid black, yet with a rich shine as each moved into its place. His new tail fanned out behind him as well, hanging over the back top of his pants.

He was gorgeous, like a god even. 

But with glowing red eyes, fangs, and all as you noticed the submissive way he still kept his head down regardless once the transformation was complete.

Like his brother too, Corazon’s bare torso which remained, was all sinew and purpose. Every muscle so clearly defined as he breathed in deeply in his anxiety for your judgment.

But he was no monster to you now.

He was a miracle of nature.

“I like the real you.” You told him gently.

And you saw that true surprise flicker through Corazon’s eyes.

Yet Doflamingo’s impatience had to interrupt. 

With his equally long bird’s legs, the remaining distance was crossed in a single stride by him. Doflamingo pushed your smaller body roughly against his younger brother’s.

“Now, is everyone comfortable here?” Doflamingo grinned once more as Corazon caught you instinctively against his wings.

Both of them had to keep their legs bent, squatted really just to keep from towering over you in their true forms.

But neither seemed to mind the inherent size difference either.

By the predatory gleam in Doflamingo’s eye, he surely didn’t.

And before you could fully acclimate, your back was now against Corazon’s abdomen while Doflamingo pinned you from the front.

You were caught between them as wings flared and you heard Cora’s fangs hitting together above your head as he snapped at his brother in reflex, not wanting him this close.

“Hush.” Doflamingo’s lack of any real anger in response this time only highlighted the implied power difference which still remained between them. “I’ll put you back to the ground in an instant if you wish.” He reminded.

Yet it was all overwhelming to you already. Just the combination of their body heats and scents mixing together even before you felt that first movement of Doflamingo’s hips against yours.

“Put those dextrous little fingers to good use, sweet girl.” He ordered then, shifting his hips again to try and rub the waistband of his pants against your hand. “The stronger male always gets first rights of course.”

And you felt Corazon’s body tense with disgust. As if he was going to try and fight for your sake anyway.

Which you still couldn’t allow.

Because you knew he wouldn’t give up until Doflamingo had made him into a bloody pulp.

Corazon still cared for you that much.

Just as you cared for him enough to prevent that fate. 

“It’s alright. I do want this.” You said as loud as the brief rise of your own bravery would allow.

Corazon took a harsh breath.

But Doflamingo just pushed what was now an obvious bulge harder against your hand in response.

“Smart little thing.” He taunted as your fingers first made it to the button of his pants.

It was all you could do to keep your hands from trembling though as you undid that button and lowered the zipper to free what was growing for you beneath.

You didn’t know what to fully expect of course when dealing with someone that was neither fully man or beast.

Yet your intuition told you not to hesitate. That hesitation would only risk his violence returning. Doflamingo wanted you to touch him immediately as your fingers ran down that muscular V shape which dipped from his navel to his pubic region.

He wore no underwear. But there wasn’t any coarse hair there either to protect him. Just the slightest bit of downy underlayer as the pads of your fingertips found and massaged through it.

It was more wispy fluff than actual feather, soft as anything you’d ever felt as he leaned his head back in clear pleasure.

Of course, you couldn’t avoid the thick base which emerged from that softness either.

Further hardening so quickly as it kept rising up once freed.

His long cock bumped against your stomach in no time, thick and twitching once already.

It looked familiar enough, save for the damn size of it that you didn’t know how the hell you wouldn’t be injured by.

“Everything off. Now.” Doflamingo growled abruptly though. Foreplay not seeming to be a priority for him in this moment as you were then ordered to disrobe.

And Corazon had gone silent now. 

You could still feel the tension of Cora against your back before you began to undress.

Your own humiliation certainly didn’t matter to you by this point though. That would be the least of your problems as pieces of your clothing hit the wet ground one after another.

Coat, shoes, shirt, pants, and underwear were all quickly put out of the way. Until it was just you and all that you were in the cold night air.

“Don’t cover her. I want to see it all.” Doflamingo warned his brother immediately though as Corazon’s wings had tried to shift against you. 

And the little bit of room that Doflamingo had allowed you in order to undress was swiftly taken back as he now pressed you skin to skin as soon as he could.

“Yes…this is what we should have done years ago. If my little brother hadn’t been such a prude with a stick up his ass.”

Corazon growled lowly to that. 

But notably, he made no move to stop his brother this time as Doflamingo kept rubbing his cock against your skin. The head of it had begun to weep. Yet Doflamingo’s gaze had now focused onto that prominent scar on your shoulder.

The one his own fangs had previously given you.

“Did Rosi ever tell you that our kind can’t procreate on their own?” Doflamingo questioned teasingly then, seemingly at random as his tongue ran out over that scar, almost with a reverence while he licked your shoulder until it glistened with his saliva. “You see…if you breed two winged parents together, all they’ll have is miscarriages. But one winged parent and a human…”

“Doffy.” Corazon warned with his own wings still staying protectively close. “That doesn’t matter right now. Just don’t hurt her.”

“It’ll matter eventually.” Doflamingo contested with a lustful smirk.

And your knees were feeling weaker as the boys did this routine again. Falling into that lopsided codependency they had for one another, bickering even with you pressed right between them.

It was a toxic bond they shared and were so determined to now add you to.

Just like Doflamingo had first tried to back then.

But even he had gained some maturity in the time between. Evidenced by the way he first teased the head of himself at your already surprisingly wet entrance instead of just plunging straight inside.

Whether that wetness was your body’s attempt at self preservation or your own willful desire, you weren’t yet sure.

But it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. That was clear as he finally began to slowly push his way in.

And when you made that first sound of pain, stretching too much almost immediately, Doflamingo actually paused.

The feathers of his wings ruffled. Somehow the brothers were now tolerating each other enough to not react when their wings bumped one another either.

Yet Corazon’s chest hummed against your back as you felt him bend to put his lips against your neck, near your ear in response to your pain.

“Relax…I’m here.” He promised, even then still trying to protect you.

And you exhaled, feeling that inner warmth once more. Corazon was using that special tone again, resonating through you as you rested your head back against him.

Cora was soothing you as his brother began to push again.

Your were fully walled in too. Corazon’s chest to your back, against him with your thighs spread for his brother. And Doflamingo in front, taking that offering, his legs bent enough for your hips to line up as he slid in deeper and deeper.

And both their wings were to your sides. They were holding you up together as Doflamingo at last bottomed out against your cervix.

You felt like he could have split you in two if he had wanted to.

But Cora’s song just continued, calming and satisfying as you stared up at Doflamingo while he let out a surprising whine with you clenched so tightly around his extraordinary cock.

“Oh…oh, fuck she feels so good.” Doflamingo breathed next. “Keep her calm…I have to move. Keep her just like this.” He was still instructing Corazon even as his sharp hips began to slowly, ever so slowly, slide back and then forward again. The skin of his cock was dragging against your insides.

And you shuddered. Everything felt like more than you could possibly take. 

But Doflamingo’s initial whine soon became moans. He was falling apart even faster than you as his wings closed tighter around you and his movements increased.

His feathers kept shifting, his pupil was dilating.

Yet as he almost grimaced in what appeared to be an abrupt brush with overstimulation, you had your very first inkling that they did not get to use these true forms often.

This was a rare intimacy. 

Maybe even completely unique for them.

The opportunity to be with a partner in their actual bodies. With all the heightened senses and raw feelings that must entail.

You were barely even a participant, and yet you were overwhelming Doflamingo as he slouched forward with his hips still pumping.

His chin was resting on one of your shoulders then, while Corazon’s was resting on your other from the opposite direction.

“I can’t even…hell, I can’t…” Doflamingo nearly laughed in disbelief.

And you felt him tremble all over as he thrust briefly harder, much rougher then as you cried out a little. But only for three or four more deep hits before his hips stilled abruptly.

The heat inside was immediate, spilling out into you as Doflamingo held himself in as close to the hilt as he could be.

But he was too big to be flush against you, just doing his best as he buried his face beside yours and you already felt his excess seed running out down your thighs to drip onto the ground.

The forest was so quiet again. Save for Doflamingo’s uneven breaths.

“Dammit…” He cursed quietly, sounding an odd mix of both placated and highly disappointed. “I need to try again. That wasn’t enough.”

But you were still aching, regardless of Doflamingo already softening within you from what he perceived as a premature release.

“No. You already came. It counts.” Corazon’s voice returned then and there however. His wings were trying to push Doflamingo’s further away.

And those wingtips were far more prehensile than a normal bird’s once Cora decided to just pull you away from his brother instead by your waist not long after. 

It made a lewd sound when Doflamingo’s wet cock slid out of you with that sudden increase in distance. Then hanging soft in a mess of both your fluids between his legs.

He glowered at Corazon as your warmth was removed from his body once more. 

And you feared they would now fight again.

Doflamingo did briefly bare his fangs. 

But Cora had turned you to face only him then as he moved his wings to push against the side of his own pants next.

You weren’t even done dripping from his brother yet. But you saw the full desire now in Corazon’s eyes.

He’d had to watch everything. 

And he had needs too.

Ones you were sure he had been too afraid to ever tell you up until tonight.

“Here.” You reached out, helping Cora as you tugged at his pants to slip them the rest of the way off of his hips.

Fair was fair.

What you did for one brother, you knew you had to do for the other.

Even if Doflamingo was now finding the concept of waiting for his second turn much more difficult than he’d originally envisioned. 

Corazon was wearing boxers. Ones that already looked a bit too tight for him just as you felt Doflamingo step back behind you.

Cora clearly bristled, not appreciating that. But you did your best to deescalate them again.

They had their own hierarchy and rules as all flocks did you were sure.

Doflamingo was the leader of them all without question. But his own neediness and vulnerabilities were far more apparent to you now.

It was a bold risk, and you didn’t move too quickly. But you did reach behind you then to massage your hand along Doflamingo’s hip and thigh. Acknowledging him at your back, and rewarding even his few moments of patience with physical touch.

Maybe that affection had surprised him.

He’d stilled again either way, and that was all the time that Corazon had needed to slide his own underwear down enough to uncover himself.

Your face felt flushed at the sight. 

Because Cora was already rock hard. Perhaps not the full length of his brother, but no less intimidating for you.

With Doflamingo still right there however, Cora didn’t hesitate. He wouldn’t lose this opportunity.

You gasped as Corazon pressed himself right into the wetness his brother had already made within you.

Your insides stretched and filled tight as anything all over again as Cora breathed your name and began immediately rocking his hips.

Doflamingo was then growling behind you in jealous response, so your hand had to move back between his legs to stimulate him too. 

You were fondling the older brother’s still softened shaft as he twitched it wantingly in your palm.

While the younger brother quickly fell into a deep rhythm inside of you, pumping your bodies together as nature had always intended.

It didn’t even feel wrong.

Because they both needed you.

And you needed them.

Or you would now.

And as Corazon scraped inside you just right, steady and sure, your orgasm was quickly building even while Doflamingo began to stiffen again within your hand.

You just stroked him harder in rhythm to his brother’s thrusts.

You could see the future already. 

There would be babies.

Multiple babies.

One mother, two different fathers. 

Nature was like that sometimes. Especially with a rare species that needed all the help it could get.

It’d just be easier to share the resources. To have two strong mates protecting you instead of only one.

Doflamingo was already getting ready to cum again too. You could hear it in his panting as he fucked your hand so roughly then.

But it was the combination of Cora’s steady pumping and Doflamingo’s desperate movements that finally sent you over the edge.

You felt your channel spasm around Cora, who repaid that pleasure immediately with a hard shudder as he released his own seed in powerful shots to mix with what you’d already received from his brother.

Corazon did get it all in, just barely though before those pink wings were grabbing you backward abruptly. 

Yet again you were pulled off of a wet cock that had just finished as Doflamingo slid himself right back into your now fully swollen folds from behind.

His wings pushed you, then making you bend forward at the waist so he could fully mount you from behind this time. You didn’t even have the chance to recover from the orgasm you’d just had before Doflamingo was pounding you so hard against your ass.

You were panting too, trembling for the contrast of his soft wings holding you up on the outside while he utterly wrecked you on the inside.

“Come on…I need you to cum on me too…I’m not stopping this until you do.” Doflamingo threatened you. Evidently not at all missing your visible orgasm had with Corazon inside you moments prior.

Yes, everything was always going to be this way too you were sure. Doflamingo would have to have the final word, the final touch. He might share only with his brother. But everything still had to start and end with him.

He was the dominant male of this territory.

“Doflamingo…” You tried his name in some very minor bid for mercy. You couldn’t think straight enough to will another orgasm back out so soon.

But you had to.

You glanced back up towards Corazon, who still seemed a bit dazed from his own release.

But his eyes did meet yours, even as his brother now fucked you raw from only footsteps away.

Yet, it wasn’t the full sadness from earlier in Cora’s stare any longer. You saw real lust for you still so heavy in those red eyes then. That look which said he would also love to do this to you if you’d only ask him for it.

Corazon would do anything you wanted him to going forward.

And that thought was enough to bring the coil of warmth into your stomach again. 

You were going to be fine. You would survive.

You’d never have to sit in a room alone again either and worry about who or what future awaited you on the other side.

Because your monsters were already here. And they had chosen you.

You moaned loudly. Both of these men in your mind, together again while that pleasure sent your body into ecstasy one more time.

You came with that cry for Doflamingo as he orgasmed gladly in return to flood your poor channel yet again with his seed. 

Your abused cunt was dripping and your body shaking before Doflamingo pulled you fully back against his chest, wrapping his warm wings around you protectively.

His voice was a bit uneven, matching his rough breathing now. “Let’s go home then. All three of us. Tonight and forever.”

And Corazon smiled slightly at last to that rare sentiment. A remarkable expression in its own right. 

Because maybe Cora was finally realizing as you had that the worst was not truly the worst.

Doflamingo wasn’t going to let anything happen to you now.

This deal had been made and the ink was already dry.

Cora used his feathers to awkwardly pull up his underwear and pants before he idly began collecting your clothing for you soon after.

“You’re going to need bigger beds then, Doffy. Both at the lakehouse and the penthouse.” Corazon said quietly as he looked back to the two of you who were still recovering.

Doflamingo smirked, not disagreeing this time. “That’d be much easier than arguing whose bed she’ll get in each night, wouldn’t it?”

You’d lay with them both of course.

But Doflamingo nipped your ear for good measure too as his feathers rubbed more possessively across your abdomen.

“Yes. We’ll have quite a nest going on soon enough.” He grinned wide in anticipation of this truth. “Little ones never like to sleep alone either after all.”

——————————

End.

Thank you for reading! ❤️🎃

A/N: The two sentence horror story quoted in the beginning is “Knock” by Fredric Brown.

[gotta-winwin]

Can I request a full oneshot on that dino when accepting an award like shouting out his wife and watching the internet explode and the members reaction to him I NEED THIS it got me kicking my feet and giggling just by thinking this 🛐🛐🛐 HAHHAHAHA

btw I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS!! 😘

hehehe omg ofc! i was kicking my feet and giggling while writing this dino has no business looking THAT fine and bias wreaking me ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) thank you so much for both requesting and enjoying my work!

where's the trophy... he just comes running over to me <3

masterlist fic that prompted this oneshot

word count: 1.4k tw/cw: idol!dino x wife!reader, childhood friends to lovers, public shoutout, a whole lot of sap, seungkwan clowning dino a/n: writing this just makes me want to see svt with their s/o in real life (we know these boys aint single bro)

It's a quiet and unassuming day until you're reminded that today is the MAMA awards. It didn't help that the award show wasn't hosted in Korea this year, leading to you being stuck on your couch, hands quivering as the show began.

It had been a tough yet rewarding year for Chan and his group mates, and you had been lucky enough to see it all. You felt proud that even with the distance, you had always been the first person Chan would call for anything.

Headlining Glastonbury? He had shined brightly onstage and even brighter during your video call, where he took you through his day, making it feel like you had been with him every step of the way.

Tour? He was texting you in between songs, updating you on the tiniest things despite you scolding him that he needed to concentrate on the show. He just couldn't help it, his mind immediately drifting to you whenever something remotely interesting took place. Baby, DK's pants ripped onstage just now. He'd text you, shoulders still shaking from laughter. Coups hyung got barked at again. Whatever tidbit it was, Chan's name lighting up on your screen was a warm embrace compared to the lonely nights without him.

It'd all be worth it now, you thought, as you let out a gasp of joy when Seventeen's name was announced as Artist of the Year. Your hands were still shaking as you picked up your phone to record the moment.

Chan's face glowed on your tv screen as he walked up with his members to accept the award. You couldn't help but remember how he used to look - kidish, tiny, cute and juvenile. You recalled how drastic the change had been, as you both matured and grew together, leading you to realize how hot he looked - so built and handsome. Yet it was the bubbly glow that stayed with him despite aging that you loved the most.

"Thank you Carats!" Your husband raised the trophy proudly into the air. "You know...I was the only one who didn't get to speak when we won a daesang last year..."

You couldn't help but scoff endearingly at how sassy he could be while receiving an award you knew would make him sob to you later.

"Ever since our debut," He continued, staring at you through the tv screen. "My dream was to be an artist that would remain in history."

You could remember that, even now, years later.

"I'm going to make you a promise." 15 year old Chan had told you, on the rare chance he had gotten a break from training. He had taken the two of you to the park in between Pledis and your house.

"Promise me what?" You had replied, lips feinting a small smile as you watched his eager expression.

"That one day, I'm going to be an artist that will stay throughout history." His face was full of raw determination. "And that you'll be right there with me. On top of the world. One day, I'll be an artist you can be proud of."

Seems like he kept that promise.

"And those feelings..." He continued speaking into the mic. "Those feelings will continue as we go into the future with Carats." The crowed cheered at his words.

You could tell from his face that something was up. He had that mischievous look that would only come out whenever he was about to do something to tease you.

"And..." He took a pause, smiling at the dramatic effect it had caused. "Well..."

You half wanted to reach through the tv and smack him, as your heart raced in anticipation. You had ran through his speech with him on video call days ago. This wasn't part of it.

"I once made a promise to someone," He finally said aloud, and you knew immediately what he was doing, mouth dropping in both surprise and realization. "A long time ago, when we were both very young, I made a promise that I would become an artist she could be proud of." He smiled bashfully at the memory of both the moment and the person. "I also promised her that she would be there with me, on top of the world."

You had to sit down, your legs failing you.

"I kept my promise, didn't I?" He said into the mic, and you could tell he was speaking just to you. "I hope you're proud of everything I've done, my lovely, patient wife. Only you could've stuck by me for fourteen years." He added the last part teasingly. "I love you." He raised the trophy in his hands. "This- this is for you." Pausing, he corrected himself. "Well- for you and the members." He smiled sheepishly at the boys behind him. "It is our award."

Dino had gotten Seungcheol's approval minutes before the award show began, begging the leader to let him shout out his wife. "Please, please, please, hyung." He had pleaded, trying to convey that this was literally his lifelong dream. "I've always wanted to do that. Just drop a bomb into the world and walk off." Seungcheol could only sigh, staring at him with a mix of exasperation and amusement. He nodded, although he knew it would inevitably create a media frenzy for the company to clean up. "Go for it." He patted their maknae on the back. "Not my problem, not my mess."

Jeonghan had been kept blissfully in the dark until he was watching their acceptance speech live. The further Dino's speech went, the further his jaw dropped. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Dino was shouting out his wife on the stage at MAMA awards, accepting an AOTY award. Immediately after, he calls Dino up, scolding him for not telling him sooner and admitting it was a baller move.

Joshua had been busy trying to comfort a near-tears Seungcheol, Dino's speech barely registering in his ears. He's blissfully confused when the crowd goes bonkers, yelling into DK's ear to tell him what on earth happened. He's proud of Dino, acknowledging that their maknae has grown up to the point that the world now knows he has a whole wife.

All the way in China, Jun's watching the show live on his phone from his trailer on set. The connection is spotty, leaving his members in pixels and full of lag. Thankfully, the only clear part is Dino's speech, leaving Jun in deep shock and a little wounded. He wished he had been there for that.

Hoshi's loud ass gasp is the only thing fans can hear from the crowd other than their own screaming. It's clear on his face that he's flabbergasted - leading fans to speculate if he even knew Dino had a wife.

Wonwoo can't help but let out a hearty laugh once the weight of Dino's speech sinks into his bones. He knows the media and fans are going to have sooo much fun with this. He feels bad that you're now in the spotlight and hopes Dino got your permission beforehand...did he?

Very busy trying to will his tears away, Woozi's shocked out of his feels, tears evaporating at the sound of Dino's voice and the word wife. He's shocked, but happiness takes over when he realizes this will overshadow the fact that he's about to ball on global tv.

Minghao's just got that goofy shocked expression on his face as he registers the moment. He's smiling from ear to ear, basking in the joy that's radiating off of Dino. Who is he to stand in the way of Dino finally showing off his love?

Mingyu is over the moon. Having been your biggest supporter, he's elated you and Dino are finally going public. The fact that he's currently onstage accepting a daesang is completely thrown out of his mind, replaced with the joy of seeing Dino thrive.

Poor Woozi has DK's arms wrapped around him as if DK's trying to suffocate the man. He can't contain his excitement and joy at the reveal, accidentally using Woozi as a stress ball. He tackles Dino as they walk offstage, yelling about how CUTE that was and how lucky you are to have each other.

Seungkwan's stunned into complete silence. He's lowkey judging (just a little bit) at how insane Dino is acting right now - knowing this is bound to stir the pot online. He's the first one to tease Dino, going as far as clowning him during his own speech. "I once made a promise..." Seungkwan fails to keep a straight face as he clowned Dino's speech to his wife. "And I-" He's kicked off the mic by Dino before he can finish.

Vernon simply nods in approval as he watches Dino finish his speech. He respects the confidence and craziness to do such a thing, especially with how dating was basically a taboo for them as idols- and bros hard launching a whole ass wife!

[wholoveseggs]

Hey girl, while I am jet-lagged from a trip, another Elijah idea came to me. Memory-free Elijah (Season 5) meets strong and confident human readers, and they start a friendship. She helps him navigate through his new life, and he falls for her. He also kinda forgot that he is a really skilled lover, so it's kinda cute and fluff because he is nervous and sweet, but I imagine that is something he would quickly remember after a few rounds :)

Btw: love, love, love Kinktober!!!

Belonging

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Reader} You needed a roommate, and he needed a place to belong...but as secrets unravel and his dark past comes to light, your new housemate might just change your life forever.

♡♡ ahhh @originals23 thank you for another spectacular request!! ♡♡

8.8k words {whoops} - Warnings: sssmmuuttt, roommates-to-lovers, lots of sexual tension, Elijah being charming and mysterious, a dash of angst, mild language, protective Elijah, soft and nervous Elijah, domestic fluff, dangerous encounters (brief physical assault), Paris, vampire reveals && all the feelsss

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05 @sweetieseven

@xoxo-shy @nova-j @decaffeinatedparadisepost @fandom-princess-forevermore @theotherworld97

@origshipfan @cocoabliss @elishi03

Money was tight, as it seemed to be for everyone these days. The economy wasn't kind, and you had bills to pay. You needed a roommate, which was how you found yourself on craigslist. You were hoping for a good, sane human being, but at the end of the day, you would take what you could get.

The first person to show up for the interview was a woman and her very obnoxious boyfriend. You could instantly tell that this would not work, even if you were desperate. She wanted to smoke in the house and have friends over to play loud music and drink all night. You would rather die.

Next came a middle-aged man who immediately gave you the creeps. You had no problem living with men in general, but this guy made you uncomfortable. He stared at you too much and had a weird look in his eyes. You kicked him out quickly, feeling uneasy.

You were about to give up for the day, when a man dressed in slightly worn clothes knocked on the door. You couldn't quite get a read on him, he seemed to be full of contradictions. On the one hand, he didn't look to have a lot of money, perhaps he was even homeless. But his skin was clean, his hair neatly trimmed, and he had an air of confidence that was rare to see.

You invited him in, and he sat at the kitchen table as you asked the usual questions. None of them he could really answer in a straightforward manner.

"Where are you from?"

"I'm not really sure."

"How old are you?"

"I don't know that either."

"Where do you work?”

"I...I'm looking."

You studied him for a minute, and he gave you a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry. I know this is a bit unusual, and I wouldn't have bothered coming here if I had anywhere else to go. The truth is, I have no memories of who I am, where I'm from, or even my age."

"That's...that's a lot to take in," you replied, not sure what else to say.

He nodded solemnly, his gaze steady but filled with vulnerability. “It is. I woke up a month ago on a bus with no memory of how I got there. All I had was this,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a single, ornate cufflink with an engraved ‘E.’ “I think my name starts with an ‘E.’ Beyond that, I don’t have much to go on.

You leaned back in your chair, trying to process the situation. He could have been lying… anyone could come up with a story like that. But something about his demeanor struck you as sincere. He didn’t have the desperation of someone looking for a quick handout. He carried himself with dignity, even as he admitted he had nothing.

"Okay," you said slowly. "So, let’s say I believe you. You’ve got no memories, no job, no ID. How do you plan to contribute if I let you stay here?”

He straightened in his chair, his expression resolute. “I may not remember who I was, but I’m willing to work. I’m a fast learner, and I can help with anything you need around the house. Cleaning, repairs, anything physical...I’ll earn my keep.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure sound confident for someone who doesn’t even know their own name.”

A small, shy smile tugged at his lips. “I suppose some things are instinctual.”

His charm wasn’t lost on you, but you weren’t about to make a decision based on a smile. “And what if you’re dangerous? You could be an escaped convict for all I know.”

His smile faded, and his expression turned serious. “I understand your concern. I don’t believe I’m a danger to anyone, but I can’t offer you proof of that. All I can promise is that I’ll respect your home and your rules.”

You studied him for a long moment, weighing the risks. Something about him made you want to trust him, even though logic told you not to. Maybe it was the way he spoke, all articulate and thoughtful, as though he’d once been someone important. Or maybe it was the quiet sadness in his eyes, the kind that suggested he’d lost something far greater than his memory.

"Alright," you said finally. "You can stay. But there are rules. No bringing strangers into the house, no smoking, no loud music. And if you try anything shady, I’m calling the cops.”

Relief washed over his face, and he nodded earnestly. “Thank you. I promise you won’t regret this.”

You showed him to the spare bedroom, which was small but comfortable, and gave him a set of clean sheets and a towel. He looked around the room as though he’d never seen anything like it, running his fingers over the furniture with quiet curiosity.

As he settled in, you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life he’d led before he lost his memory. He was polite and well-spoken, yet entirely out of place in the world. And though he seemed vulnerable now, there was something about him… something strong and enduring, like a flicker of a flame waiting to reignite.

For now, you decided to take it one day at a time. After all, what’s life without a little risk?

The following months passed by quickly. You got closer and closer to each other, spending a lot of time together.

He had gotten used to the city life, and you had gotten used to having him around. It had been nice, having someone to come home to, and to talk to.

He was a lovely person, who enjoyed listening to classical music as he cooked, and who was always willing to lend a hand. He was smart, funny, and kind, and you were starting to fall for him.

You weren't sure if he felt the same way about you, but the way he looked at you sometimes, and the way he smiled at you, gave you hope.

You were sitting in the living room, reading a book, while he cooked dinner. The smell of his cooking was making your stomach growl, and you were looking forward to eating whatever he had prepared.

"I found out something interesting today," he said, coming into the room with a bowl of salad.

"What's that?" You asked, putting your book down.

"My name," he said, a slight smirk on his face. "My full name, I mean."

"You did?!" You exclaimed, excitedly.

"Yep," he confirmed, looking pleased with himself. "It's Elijah."

"Elijah," you repeated, testing out the name. "I like it. It suits you."

He smiled, and the sight of his dimples made your heart skip a beat. He was so striking, and you wondered if there was someone out there missing him. Someone who loved him.

"It does," he agreed, his smile fading a little.

"So, how did you find out? Did it just come to you, or did you remember?" You asked.

"Actually... I uh.. ran into someone who claimed to know me. He wasn't very friendly," he explained.

"Oh no, are you okay?" You asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," he assured you. "I wasn't hurt. Just... I don't know, it was odd."

"Odd how?"

"He was angry, and he told me I wanted this, and that I should leave the city for the sake of a woman he wouldn't name," he recalled.

"That's awful," you said, feeling sorry for him.

"Yeah," he sighed.

"Do you have any idea who the woman is?" You asked.

"... I think she might be my family?" He said, looking unsure. "It's hard to explain, but when he mentioned her, it felt like something clicked, and I knew that he was telling the truth."

"Wow, that's big," you breathed.

"I know," he nodded, plating up the food. "It's strange, I don't remember anything about my life, but the mention of her... It felt right."

"Maybe it'll trigger your memories," you suggested, helping him bring the food over to the table.

"Maybe," he agreed.

The two of you sat down to eat, and the conversation shifted to more pleasant topics.

He talked about his favorite books, and his favorite places in the city, and you listened, enjoying his company.

After dinner, you cleared the table, and put the dishes in the dishwasher. And he prepared for his nightly walk, one he didn't want you joining him on.

"Can I join you tonight?" You asked, as he grabbed his jacket.

"Why?" He asked, sounding surprised.

"Because I want to spend more time with you," you explained, hoping he wouldn't think it was too weird.

"Oh," he said, a smile creeping across his face. "Truly, I would love for you to join... But tonight, I want to clear my head. I need some time alone."

"Okay," you agreed, a little disappointed.

"Tomorrow night, perhaps," he said, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

You blushed, and watched him leave. He always had an excuse as to why he had to go out on his own, and it was starting to bother you. You couldn't help but worry that he was hiding something from you, or that maybe he didn't feel the same way about you, and this was his subtle way of letting you down.

Perhaps it was the wine, or perhaps it was your growing feelings for him, but you decided to follow him, just this once.

You grabbed a coat and put on a pair of boots, and slipped out the front door. It was a cold, windy night, and you cursed yourself for not bringing a scarf and gloves.

You could see Elijah's silhouette ahead, and you followed him, keeping your distance. He walked with such grace and confidence, the sort of walk that screamed 'I'm rich and powerful,' although his personality hardly lined up with that attitude.

You had a feeling that whoever he was, before he lost his memories, had a lot of money. It was in the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, and the way he could make a cheap t-shirt look elegant.

He wandered into a sketchy part of town, and you wondered why he would want to come here. There were several run-down buildings, and a lot of graffiti. The only people you saw were homeless and drug addicts, and you were starting to get scared.

Finally, he stopped outside an abandoned warehouse. You watched from afar as he walked inside, and a few minutes later, came back out, wiping his mouth. You frowned, wondering what he had been doing in there.

Then, without warning, he turned around and started walking back towards the house.

"Fuck," you muttered, ducking into an alleyway.

You waited until he had passed, and then followed him, staying out of sight. He went back in a different direction, and after a few blocks, you realised he was headed for a park.

You followed him, trying to stay quiet, but your footsteps echoed loudly in the night. You felt foolish, and hoped that he hadn't heard you.

He led you deeper into the park, to an area that was mostly secluded. There was a large tree, with a bench underneath it. He sat down on the bench, and stared up at the sky, which was covered in stars.

You watched him for a moment, wondering if this was his way of relaxing, and what was going through his mind.

Suddenly, his eyes locked onto yours. You gasped and took a step back, your heart racing.

"Are you going to join me, or just keep spying on me?" He asked, his voice amused.

"I wasn't spying," you lied, sitting down next to him.

"Of course not," he replied, his tone clearly mocking you.

"Why are you here?" You asked.

"I like the fresh air, and the view is beautiful," he answered.

"What were you doing in that warehouse?"

"Just clearing my head," he said, his expression becoming serious. "You shouldn't be out here, it's dangerous."

"You are out here," you countered.

He laughed, his eyes crinkling up in the corners.

"That's true," he agreed, looking out into the darkness, his eyes scanning the shadows. His shoulders were tense, and you could tell that he was on alert, even though you were both sitting safely under the tree. "Let's walk back, shall we?"

He stood up and held out his hand. You took it and he helped you to your feet.

"I'm sorry," you apologised, feeling guilty. "I shouldn't have followed you, but I was worried about you."

"It's alright," he said, keeping a grip on your hand as you walked down the path to the park exit.

You enjoyed the feeling of his hand in yours, the warmth of his skin. You glanced at his profile, admiring his handsome features. You noticed the frown on his face, his dark eyes once again scanning the shadows.

He moved a little faster, pulling you along. He seemed anxious to get out of the park, and back to the safety of your condo.

"What's wrong?" You asked, sensing his unease.

"It's nothing," he replied, his tone serious. "But I think it's best we get home, don't you?"

Then the sound of gravel crunching beneath shoes caught your attention. You turned to see a group of men walking towards you, wearing dark clothing, their faces hidden.

Elijah stopped and stepped in front of you, shielding you from the men. They approached slowly, spreading out to surround you. You were frightened, and you held onto his arm, hoping he knew what to do.

One of the men reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun. Casually holding it by his side, as if it was a normal object, instead of a deadly weapon.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Elijah said, his tone calm and confident. "How may I be of service?"

The leader of the group chuckled, and shook his head.

"Hand over your money, and no one gets hurt," the man demanded, gesturing the gun at Elijah.

"Of course," Elijah said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. He handed it to the man, and the man flipped through it, counting the cash.

"A little light, don't you think?" The man asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm afraid I don't carry much cash on me," Elijah said, sounding apologetic.

The man's eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer, his gaze flicking between you and Elijah.

"Perhaps you should let the lady go, and we can discuss this like civilized men," Elijah suggested, his tone still polite, but his eyes had hardened.

"I don't think so," the man replied, his grip on the gun tightening.

"I uh... don't have anything," you stammered, too terrified to think straight. "I...I left my wallet at home,"

"Liar," the man spat, pointing the gun at you.

Elijah stepped in front of you, putting himself between you and the gun.

"Now, now, there's no need for that," Elijah said, holding up his hands. "We're all reasonable people, let's not resort to violence."

"Then, perhaps, we should take her fancy designer clothes instead. Maybe that'll make up for the loss," the man said, his tone threatening, pressing the barrel of the gun against Elijah's chest.

Elijah tensed, and a low growl escaped his lips. You looked at him in surprise, he didn't seem like the type of guy who would react to threats this way.

The leader's eyes widened, and a small grin appeared on his face.

"Ooh, we have a tough guy here," he said, sounding amused. "Trying to impress your date? She’ a little young for you ain't she?"

His goons laughed, and you felt your cheeks flush.

"She is none of your concern," Elijah replied, his tone sharp.

"Actually, she is. You see, I'm in charge here," the man said, he looked at you and smiled, revealing a mouth full of yellow teeth. "Strip. Now. Or I will shoot your sugar daddy in the fucking face,"

Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

"No, no please, we'll give you anything you want, just don't hurt us," you begged, tears welling up in your eyes.

"Clothes. NOW!" The man yelled, pointing the gun at your face.

You hesitated, and he grabbed your hair, yanking you away from Elijah.

"Take off the fucking clothes, or I will kill you both," the man snarled, his breath hot on your face, the barrel of the gun pressed against your temple.

"Alright, alright, don't hurt her," Elijah said, taking off his coat.

"Hurry up," the man snapped, releasing your hair.

You nodded and started to undress, tears streaming down your cheeks. You stripped off your coat and scarf, then pulled off your shirt and pants, shivering as the cold night air hit your bare skin.

You looked at Elijah, who was watching you, his expression unreadable. You could see the muscles in his jaw working, his hands balled into fists.

You were scared, but more than that, you were angry. You hated these men, for the way they were treating you and Elijah, and for the fear and shame they were making you feel.

"There, I'm naked," you said, trying to sound brave.

"Not quite," the man replied, stepping forward. He ran his hands over your body, his fingers rough against your skin, the gun still pressed to your temple.

You flinched, and he chuckled.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm not going to rape you," he said, his hand cupping your breast. "You're not my type."

He moved his hand down, stroking your stomach, and then lower, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your panties. You shuddered, and he laughed again.

"But, maybe you'd like a little fun," he whispered, his lips close to your ear.

"That's enough, you've gotten what you wanted, now leave us alone," Elijah demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"It seems your sugar daddy doesn't want to share," the man said, his tone mocking. "He keeps pretending like he's in charge,"

"Please, let us go," you pleaded, your voice breaking.

"No, I think I'm going to keep you," the man replied, wrapping his arm around your waist, holding you against his chest.

"You won't harm her," Elijah warned, his eyes blazing.

"Or what?" The man sneered, his fingers digging into your skin.

"I'll kill you," Elijah growled, his voice deadly.

You watched in horror as the other men laughed, raising their guns at Elijah. He didn't even blink, his gaze fixed on the man holding you.

"Is that a threat?" The man asked, his grip on you tightening.

"A promise," Elijah replied, his expression was eerily calm, but his eyes were filled with anger and determination.

The man pressed the barrel of the gun against your skull, the cold metal pressing painfully into your skin. You gasped, and he laughed, the sound sending a chill down your spine.

"Walk away, and I'll let her go," the man said, his gaze locked on Elijah.

Elijah looked at you, and his eyes softened.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, his voice soft, barely audible above the sound of your racing heartbeat.

"Yes," you answered, without hesitation.

He smiled, and turned to the man. "Then duck,"

Before the man could respond, Elijah lunged at him, his hand grabbing the wrist holding the gun. The man yelped, and you ducked down, just as Elijah's knee connected with his face. There was a sickening crack, and the man cried out, letting go of the gun.

Elijah caught it before it hit the ground, and other men began firing, hitting Elijah in the chest over and over, but he stood there unfazed, almost bored, like they were annoying pests and nothing more.

One of the men, realizing his bullets were useless, rushed forward and swung a fist, hitting Elijah in the jaw. Elijah didn't budge, grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air. The man gasped, and tried to pry his hand off, but Elijah's grip was too strong.

You watched in awe as Elijah crushed the man's throat, his expression blank. Then, he threw him aside, the sound of bones snapping echoed in the air.

The other men backed away, their faces pale. Elijah ignored them, taking his leather jacket and putting it over your shoulders, before turning his attention to the leader.

The man was kneeling on the ground, clutching his broken nose. He looked up at Elijah, his eyes wide with fear.

"P-please," the man stammered, holding up his hands. "I'm s-sorry,"

Elijah stared at him, his expression cold. "No you are not,"

He crushed the gun in his hands like it was tissue paper, and grabbed the man by the throat. The man choked, his hands clawing at Elijah's arm.

"I promised you that I would kill you, and I intend to keep my word," Elijah said, his voice devoid of emotion.

You watched in horror as he tightened his grip, and the man's face turned purple. You wanted to look away, but couldn't tear your eyes from the scene.

Elijah's expression was a mixture of rage and hatred, his face was no longer human, he had completely black eyes, with veins snaking across his face, and his teeth were razor sharp, almost fang like.

He snapped the neck with a loud crack, and dropped the man to the ground. The other men backed away further, their guns forgotten, the color drained from their faces.

Elijah looked at them, and smiled, his fangs glinting in the moonlight.

"Run," he commanded, his voice dark and deadly.

The men fled, tripping over their own feet, disappearing into the shadows. Elijah turned to look at you, his eyes soft yet completely inhuman.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, unable to speak. You were terrified, but not of him.

"Close your eyes and count to thirty, I'll be right back," he said, and then turned and followed the men.

You watched him run off faster than any human could, and you closed your eyes tightly, hearing screams and cries as he caught the men. You waited, counting down from thirty, and then you heard his footsteps and opened your eyes, his face once again normal, the only hint that he had been a monster moments ago was the blood staining his shirt.

He didn't say a word, just reached out his hand and helped you to your feet. He picked up your clothes and helped you dress, your hands were shaking so badly that you could barely button up your shirt.

When you were dressed, he wrapped his arms around you, and held you close, his warmth enveloping you.

"S-shouldn't we call the cops?" You asked, still in shock.

"There will be no need," he replied, his voice calm and soothing.

You looked at the bodies of the men, and then quickly looked away. Elijah had torn them apart, their limbs twisted and contorted in impossible ways. Their faces were frozen in expressions of terror, their eyes empty and lifeless.

"You're not human are you?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"I'm more human than them," he replied, his grip on you tightening a little. "Let's get out of here, and I'll explain everything."

"Okay," you said, letting him guide you away from the bodies.

You felt numb, and you let him lead you out of the park, your mind struggling to process what had happened. Who was this man? This creature beyond comprehension?

Who had you let into your home?

The sound of the kettle whistling pulled you from the daze you had been in. You were sitting on the sofa, wrapped in multiple blankets, Elijah's coat draped across your lap.

You watched him move about the kitchen, his movements confident and sure.

"Here," he said, handing you a mug of hot tea.

"Thank you," you said, taking a sip.

He sat down next to you, his body close to yours. He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, and you flinched.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he promised.

"But you killed them," you whispered, your eyes watering.

"I did," he confirmed, his voice calm and steady.

"How?" You asked, looking up at him.

"I have... certain abilities," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Abilities that make me stronger, faster, and more dangerous than any human."

You put your mug down on the table and turned to him, studying his face. He was watching you intently, his eyes filled with concern.

"Are you... are you an alien?" You asked, a hint of fear in your voice.

He laughed, the sound a pleasant rumble.

"No, I'm not an alien," he assured you.

"What are you then?"

"I'm...well.. I think I'm a vampire," he said, sounding uncertain.

A burst of disbelief mixed with terror erupted within you, and you let out a hysterical laugh.

"Vampire," you repeated, shaking your head. "Like Edward Cullen?"

"I don't know who that is," he said, frowning.

You let out another laugh, your mind reeling. It wasn't possible. Vampires weren't real.

"Y/N," he said, his voice serious. "I know this is a lot to take in, but please believe me. I am a vampire. I can't explain how or why, but it's true."

You let him talk as you grabbed your phone and searched up vampires. Showing it to him, and telling him to look at the search results.

"Sparkle in the sun? Not as far as I am aware," he commented, frowning.

"Holy water? Crucifixes?" You pressed.

"I'm not particularly religious," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Garlic?" You questioned.

"I love garlic," he replied, grinning.

"Can you fly?" You asked, wondering how many myths were true.

"I'm not sure," he said, his brows furrowed in concentration. "I've never tried."

He stood up and did a little hop with his arms raised in the air, like some sort of weird bird. You snorted and covered your mouth with your hand, trying not to laugh.

"No flying," he concluded, sitting back down.

"So, how old are you?" You asked.

"No idea," he said, a sad look on his face.

"Oh my god, what if you are like one hundred years old?" You asked, your mind racing with possibilities.

"Perhaps," he mused.

You paused at the next item on the list of vampire traits, and hesitated before asking.

"And the other thing... blood," you read, your stomach turning at the thought.

"Yes," he admitted, a look of shame crossing his face.

"So, when you went into that warehouse…?" You began, remembering how he had returned, wiping his mouth.

"I was hungry, and I needed to eat," he said, his voice low.

"So you just went and killed someone?" You asked, unable to keep the judgement out of your voice.

"No, he was very much alive, just passed out," he explained.

"And you didn't kill him," you pressed, not entirely convinced.

"I didn't," he insisted.

"But what if you did? What if the next time you went to get some 'sustenance' you did actually kill them?" You asked, starting to panic.

"Y/N," he said softly, taking your hand. "I would never hurt you,"

You looked at his face, searching for any signs that he was lying. But his eyes were filled with nothing but sincerity, and a hint of sadness. His gaze drifted to your lips, and his expression changed, becoming softer, and a little more intimate.

You quickly looked away, back to the list of vampire facts, and cleared your throat.

"Mind control," you read, and felt his gaze linger on you.

"Not to my knowledge," he replied.

"You can't enter a house without being invited," you continued, and his hand tightened around yours.

"Is that a request, or a demand?" He asked, his tone playful.

"It's a question," you countered, blushing slightly.

"Yes, but most invite me in without hesitation," he said, giving your hand a light squeeze. "You did,"

"Oh," you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed.

Your eyes went back to the mind control section, and a thought crossed your mind.

"Have you used mind control on me?" You asked, a sense of unease washing over you.

"I don't know," he admitted. "If I have, I'm not aware of it."

"Oh," you mumbled, not knowing what to say, but curiosity got the better of you. "Try to, make me do something,"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, something harmless," you said, thinking for a moment. "Make me sing a song,"

"Very well," he agreed, looking thoughtful.

You waited, expecting to start singing. But nothing happened.

"Do you feel any different?" He asked.

"No, nothing," you said, disappointed.

"I don't know what else to suggest," he said, a frown marring his features.

"I don't know, look me in the eye and tell me to do it? Like... Tell yourself you can do it? I don't know… maybe it's a belief thing…?" you offered.

He nodded, and then turned to look directly at you. His dark eyes were intense, and his lips curved into a smile.

"Sing me a song, sweet girl," he said, his voice echoing strangely in your mind.

You told yourself not to sing, to sit quietly and not react. You repeated it over and over, until the words were all that was in your head.

But his voice seeped into the ribbons of your brain, dancing behind your eyes. You lost your awareness of time and space, and suddenly, a melody rose up from within you.

You opened your mouth and the words came tumbling out, and you started singing an old song that had been stuck in your head for days.

Elijah sat back and looked surprised, a small smile on his lips. You stopped singing, your face flushing in embarrassment.

"Holy shit," you gasped, a strange sensation creeping through your mind, like cobwebs being blown away. "It worked,".

"You have a lovely voice," he said, his tone gentle and kind.

"How did you do that?" You asked, feeling unnerved.

"I don't know," he admitted, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "I just believed that I could, and you did as I asked,"

You suddenly stood up, tossing the blankets off of you and heading to your wine rack.

"I need a drink," you declared, and picked a random bottle.

You poured yourself a generous amount, and drank it all in one gulp. Then poured yourself another glass. You looked over at him, and noticed the way his eyes followed the glass as it reached your lips.

"Do you want some?" You asked, the wine giving you courage.

"No, thank you," he replied.

You sat back down on the sofa, and took a long sip. Thinking about all the possibilities of what his vampire status meant.

"Could you mind control my mortgage payments away?" You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Possibly," he said, smiling a little.

"Could you use your super speed to clean my apartment?" You teased, taking another sip.

"You're not thinking big enough," he replied, his grin growing wider. "I would love to leave this city, find a home in a new town and live a normal life."

"I'm not sure normal is something you could ever be," you quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"You might have a point," he conceded, his tone wistful.

He pointed to the artwork on your walls, you had purchased them at Ikea ages ago. They were those generic wanderlust posters of different famous travel destinations.

"Pick one," he said.

"What?"

"I'll take you there," he offered, his voice soft.

"Seriously?"

"I owe you so much, I think this is the least I can do," he replied.

You stared at him, your mind struggling to process his offer. Was he for real? Was he really willing to take you around the world?

"Paris," you blurted out, a blush rising to your cheeks. "I've always wanted to go,"

"Paris it is," he agreed, and your heart skipped a beat.

"Really?" You asked, unable to hide the excitement in your voice.

"Absolutely," he said, his tone sincere. "I would love nothing more than to take you."

"That's so sweet," you gushed, your face heating up even more.

"So, Paris?" He asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Yeah," you agreed, nodding your head.

"Then we will leave first thing in the morning," he said, his expression brightening.

"But I have work... I need to take time off-" you started to say.

"Forget about all of that," he cut you off, his tone gentle. "I can mind control people, remember? I'll just take care of everything,"

You laughed, the ridiculousness of the situation finally hitting you. He was a vampire, who had mind control powers, and was offering to take you on a trip to Paris.

"This is insane," you giggled, feeling slightly hysterical.

"Indeed," he agreed, grinning.

You finished your wine and set the glass down on the coffee table. His proximity was starting to make you feel hot, and a little giddy.

"So," you began, trying to distract yourself. "I guess I'll go pack my bags,"

"I can buy you anything we need when we arrive," he suggested.

"Are we gonna fly? Like on a plane?"

"I was thinking that I could just jump really hard and we can just land in Paris," he said, a serious expression on his face.

"Oh shut up," you giggled, playfully smacking him on the shoulder.

He chuckled and shook his head.

You smiled and sat back, taking a moment to reflect on the day's events. It had been an emotional roller coaster, and your head was still reeling from the revelation that vampires were real, and sitting in your apartment. But the prospect of a trip to Paris made your heart flutter with joy.

"I can't believe I'm going to Paris," you said, letting out a happy sigh.

"We," he corrected, smiling.

"We," you echoed, a warm feeling spreading through you and a huge grin appearing on your face.

This was going to be the best vacation ever.

France was just as magical as you imagined it would be. Elijah took you to the most luxurious hotel in the city, and ordered a feast fit for royalty. The food was incredible, the atmosphere romantic, and the company... Well the company was a bit odd.

The vampire man, who could control humans with his mind, who had saved you from being mugged, and who was now whisking you around the world, was a little hard to ignore.

What was harder to ignore was the raging jealousy you felt every time someone flirted with him. He was like a magnet for hot people of all kinds, and they would flock to him like moths to a flame.

It was ridiculous really. How they would throw themselves at him, practically begging him to fuck them, and he would politely decline. You felt a surge of satisfaction, knowing that no matter how good looking they were, no matter how talented their tongue, his attention belonged to you.

You were currently strolling along the Seine, admiring the sights, when you noticed a group of young women watching Elijah.

"They're looking at you," you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

Elijah didn't bother looking up from his guidebook, but a smirk spread across his lips.

"I'm sure they are," he replied, sounding amused.

"Why are girls so obsessed with you?" You asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of your voice.

"I have been told I'm... As the young say these days, a snack," he said, laughing at his own joke.

You couldn't help but snort and laugh along with him. He was a complete dork sometimes, and it made him all the more endearing.

He looked over at you and smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He had been feeding from plenty of tourists, much healthier blood than the people he found on the streets of New York. His complexion was no longer the sickly grey it had been. Now he looked healthier, his skin glowing, and his eyes shining.

"Do you think I'm a snack?" He asked, his tone playful.

"I think you're an entire six course meal," you replied, trying to sound cool.

"Is that so?" He asked, an eyebrow raising.

You flushed and looked away, trying to hide your embarrassment. Why were you acting like such a teenager?

"Yeah," you murmured, fidgeting with your jacket zipper.

"Perhaps you'd like a bite," he said, his voice low and inviting.

"Oh stop it," you groaned, pushing him playfully.

"No seriously, I've seen how you look at me. You want to sink your teeth into me," he teased, giving you a wink.

"That's you, Mr. Vampire," you retorted, sticking your tongue out at him.

He grinned and reached for your hand, taking it in his and bringing it to his lips.

Your heart rate increased, and your cheeks flushed. You could feel the heat rising to your face, and you quickly pulled away.

"You're such a flirt," you finally managed, shaking your head. "I bet if you kissed the hand of one of those girls over there, they would swoon right into the river,"

"I could," he agreed, looking at the group of young women.

The group of girls noticed him looking and they quickly began giggling and whispering amongst themselves. One of the girls waved at him and he waved back, his expression playful.

You couldn't help but smile at his antics. He seemed much happier here in Europe than he did back home, and his smile was infectious.

"See, they are already falling over themselves for you," you laughed.

One of the girls broke off from the group and walked up to Elijah. She was stunning, with long blonde hair, and big brown eyes. She said something to him in French, and he laughed and responded.

When you landed in France, Elijah could speak French perfectly. He didn't even notice he was doing it until you called him out on it. Making you both wonder just how much knowledge was locked away inside his mind.

You couldn't understand what they were saying, but the conversation seemed lighthearted. He took your hand and kissed it again, before saying something else to the girl.

She giggled and looked at you, giving you a wide smile. "Zhou are very lucky to 'ave such a fine 'usband."

You were shocked by her words, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Oh, we're not married," you stammered, shaking your head.

"Oh," she said, her eyebrows raising. "'E is zee lover?"

You couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of you. The idea of Elijah being your lover was too ridiculous to consider. But before you could correct her again, he spoke up.

"Oui, je suis votre amant," he purred, a wicked grin spreading across his lips.

Your stomach clenched at his words, and your mind struggled to come up with a response.

"Oui, oui, très romantique," the girl giggled, giving you a knowing look. "I'll let you get back to your 'oneymoon,"

She waved at you, and you awkwardly waved back.You watched her join her friends, who all began whispering and giggling again, the blonde fanning herself dramatically and clutching her chest.

"Did you just tell her that we were lovers?" You asked, turning to look at him.

His lips twitched into a faint smile, though he avoided meeting your gaze. “I thought it might discourage her interest.”

Your irritation faltered, replaced by something warmer. “She’s beautiful, Elijah. Why wouldn’t you want her attention?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the cobblestones. When he finally looked up, his dark eyes were steady but uncertain. “Because she’s not you.”

The world seemed to tilt, the bustling streets fading into silence. You stared at him, your chest tight.

“Elijah...” you began, but whatever you were about to say was lost as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss.

It was soft at first, hesitant, as though he were unsure if he was doing it right. But when you responded, your hands gripping his coat, your lips parting for him, his hesitation melted away. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened.

The sound of giggles broke the spell, and you pulled back, breathless and flushed. The group of girls was watching you, their laughter light and teasing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Elijah’s forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Was that... acceptable?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

You laughed softly, your hand sliding to his jaw. “More than acceptable.”

Relief flickered across his face, though his cheeks were still flushed. “I wasn’t sure if I...” He trailed off, his uncertainty palpable.

“You were perfect,” you whispered, your thumb brushing over his cheek.

His lips curved into a small smile, and for a moment, the two of you simply stood there, the city alive around you but forgotten in the haze of the moment.

"That was my first kiss," he said with a small laugh.

You smiled, your hand cupping his cheek, tracing along his jawline. Taking in his handsome face, his deep brown eyes, his soft lips. You wanted more, you wanted it all.

"I have a strong feeling you've done that plenty of times before, you just don't remember," you teased, your gaze darting to his lips.

He let out a nervous chuckle, his fingers gently caressing your sides.

"Perhaps," he conceded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You stood on your tiptoes, and leaned in close, your lips inches away from his.

"Maybe I should refresh your memory," you said, your voice soft and flirty, "Back at our hotel,"

"Yes," he agreed, his smile growing wider. "And after, perhaps we could discuss this 'lover' business further,"

You snorted and playfully hit him on the shoulder, and his deep, sexy laugh echoed through the streets of Paris.

"Shut up, you are so cheesy," you giggled, your cheeks hurting from how wide your grin was.

He took your hand and kissed the top, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Let's go," he said, his voice warm and full of promise.

The two of you rushed down the street, and headed back to the hotel. The possibilities running through your head, making your heart pound with excitement.

Paris was already the most romantic place on earth, but now, with Elijah by your side, it was about to become unforgettable.

It had been quite a while since you last had sex, and you were feeling more than a little pent up. It also didn't help that Elijah was stupidly hot and a complete gentleman.

You had fantasized about him multiple times since the moment you met, and now the opportunity to make those dreams a reality was right in front of you.

You wondered what having sex with a vampire would be like, would he use his fangs? Would he be gentle or rough? You shivered, the thought exciting you more than it should.

The two of you rode the elevator up to your room in silence, both of you trying not to rush, but the tension was thick. He was holding your hand, and when the doors opened, you both hurried down the hall.

You let out a squeal as he scooped you up before you reached the door, carrying you the rest of the way. He used his supernatural speed, and before you could register what was happening, he was already kicking the door open and stepping inside.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and the excitement coursing through your veins. He gently placed you on the bed, and you let out a soft gasp as he crawled over you.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice low and soft.

You could feel the blush spreading across your face, and the heat pooling in your core. He kissed your neck, and you let out a soft moan.

"I confess I haven't done this before," he murmured against your skin, his hands caressing your sides.

"I really doubt that," you said with a laugh, your voice breathless. "Have you seen yourself? Whoever you were before you lost your memories... He was a ladies man, I can guarantee it,"

He laughed and shook his head, slowly unbuttoning your dress.

"I suppose I'll just have to rely on my instincts," he said, a playful grin spreading across his face.

And those instincts... were impeccable.

His hands were warm and gentle on your bare skin, his lips soft and teasing. He took his time taking off your dress, savoring the moment, until you were finally lying beneath him, completely naked.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you could feel the heat rising in your face. His eyes were dark and hungry, and you were desperately trying to keep your cool. But it was nearly impossible, especially with his perfect body looming over you.

You leaned up and kissed him, a deep, passionate kiss that left you breathless. Your hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it free from his pants. He chuckled, helping you remove his clothing. Your fingers traced along his firm chest, and down his arms, enjoying the feel of his skin.

You could tell he was a little nervous, his movements slow and tentative. He avoided your gaze, but kept glancing at you. A slight blush crept up his cheeks, and he let out a soft sigh.

"I do not wish to disappoint you," he confessed. "I fear I may fail at this task,"

You cupped his cheek, and gave him a soft smile.

"It's okay," you reassured him, your tone gentle. "We'll figure it out together,"

He nodded, and let out a shaky breath. You kissed him, trying to help him relax, and he returned the gesture with a little more confidence.

You gently guided his hands to where you wanted them, showing him what made you feel good. His fingers gently brushed over your slit, and a soft moan escaped you. He looked a little surprised, but his lips curved into a faint smile.

He began to explore, his thumb circling your clit. His movements were slow and deliberate, and you found yourself arching into his touch.

"Like this?" He asked, his voice soft and teasing.

"Mhm," you murmured, a blissful smile on your lips.

He kissed your neck, and you could feel his fangs brushing against your skin. The thought sent a shiver of excitement through you, and a soft moan slipped out.

His fingers eased inside you, curling just right, and you couldn't help but gasp. He let out a soft laugh, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you.

"I take it that's the right spot?" He teased, his voice low and seductive.

"Mhm," you moaned, nodding your head.

"What a pretty little sound," he praised, his lips brushing against your ear.

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, and he continued his gentle assault on your senses. His fingers worked you slowly, and his lips on yours felt divine.

The heat was rising, and you could feel the pressure building inside you. His thumb teased your clit, and his fingers stroked you just right. Your hips rocked against his hand, and he let out a soft hum of approval.

"Elijah," you moaned, your voice low and breathless.

"Yes, sweetheart?" He murmured, his lips trailing down your neck.

"I'm so close," you panted, your nails digging into his skin.

"Go on," he urged, his fingers increasing their pace.

Your breath caught in your throat, your legs trembling. The heat was almost unbearable, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge. You closed your eyes, lost in the sensation, and then it was crashing over you, wave after wave of pleasure washing over you.

You opened your eyes, and he was watching you with a bit of wonder in his gaze. You flushed, your heart still pounding in your chest. You could feel the heat in his eyes, and you knew he was enjoying this as much as you were.

When the aftershocks finally faded, he gently withdrew his fingers, his lips capturing yours in a tender kiss. You could feel his hardness pressing against you, and a sense of need overtook you.

You splayed your hands on his chest and pushed him onto his back, straddling him, and giving him a good view of your body.

He looked up at you with wide eyes, his lips parted and his cheeks flushed. He was gorgeous, and you felt a surge of pride knowing that he was yours.

Your hands were moving steadily downward, and when they reached his belt, you slowly started unbuckling it.

His breathing was getting heavier, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you touched him through his boxers. He let out a low groan, his hands reaching for your hips, pulling you closer.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, his arousal pressing against your core. His eyes were hooded, and his breathing was ragged. You slowly pulled his boxers down, his thick cock springing free.

"My my," you said with a smirk, taking his length in your hands and stroking him gently. "Is this all for me?"

He groaned, his hips rocking forward, eager for more contact.

"All yours," he panted, his voice low and husky.

You could see the desire in his eyes, the need burning within him. And as his fingers dug into your hips, guiding you into position, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto his length, hissing as he stretched and filled you.

"Oh," you moaned, your head tilting back as he bottomed out.

He was big, and it had been awhile, you reached out for him, and he sat up and took your hands, kissing each one.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his tone soft and concerned.

"Yes," you breathed, your eyes meeting his. "You feel really good,"

His lips curved into a satisfied smile, and his fingers caressed the small of your back, gently encouraging you to move.

You began rocking your hips, slowly at first, and then building up to a steady pace. You were panting, the friction delicious, and he was gripping your hips tightly, his own movements matching yours.

The room was filled with the sounds of your pleasure, the bed creaking beneath you, the headboard tapping against the wall. The scent of sex and desire permeating the air.

You could feel the flush spreading across your cheeks, and the heat building inside you. He was hitting all the right spots, and the look on his face was making you even more turned on.

He was watching you with such intensity, his gaze focused on your expression. Every time you moaned, or shuddered in pleasure, his lips would curve into a satisfied smirk, and his grip would tighten on your hips.

You were close, the pressure coiling within you, and you could tell he was close too. His movements were becoming more frantic, and his breathing was coming in short gasps.

You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. He responded eagerly, pushing you backwards, and pinning you beneath him. He gripped your hips tightly, his thrusts becoming harder, faster.

You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders. You were so close, teetering on the edge, and then you felt his fangs brush against your neck, and that was all it took.

The pressure released, waves of pleasure washing over you, and you cried out, your legs shaking. He groaned, his movements becoming erratic, and then he was spilling himself inside you, his cock throbbing and twitching.

He collapsed on top of you, his breath hot on your neck, and his skin slick with sweat. Your fingers gently traced along his spine, and he let out a satisfied hum.

He rolled off of you, and laid down beside you, his hand reaching for yours. You laid on your side, and intertwined your fingers with his, a content smile on your lips.

"That was amazing," you breathed, letting out a soft laugh.

He chuckled, his eyes fluttering shut.

"I agree," he murmured, his tone soft and sleepy.

You gently kissed his forehead, and then his cheek, and his lips. He smiled, his eyes closed, his expression peaceful.

You had never seen him like this before, and it made your heart swell. You couldn't help but lean forward and place a kiss on his chest, right above his heart.

You scooted closer, resting your head on his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.

"I love you," you whispered, your fingers gently tracing along his collarbone.

He stirred slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

You smiled, snuggling against him, and letting the warmth of his body lull you to sleep.

It had been a long, strange journey, and there were still so many questions left unanswered, but in that moment, none of that mattered.

All that mattered was the man next to you, and the promise of what the future held.

[wildsaltair]

Security

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (fluff, with a tiny hint of hurt/comfort)

Word Count: 1.2k

Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted, @streets-in-paradise, @xiscamoony, @aelondrias

Author’s Note: Very short little fic that I wrote sort of as a follow-up to Nightmare, but it works as a standalone one-shot too. As always, it's written with the fullest measure of my love, and it's representing all the longing y'all get to witness every day on this melodramatic blog. I love Maximus, and I hope this little fic does him justice :) Thank you for reading!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Your love is asleep beside you, breathing deep and slow against your neck. After yet another day of backbreaking work in the harvest, he’s exhausted, and all he had the strength to do was pull off his tunic and fall into bed beside you.

You are just as tired, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to fall asleep just yet. You’re too transfixed by him.

In sleep, his face is so peaceful, so free from the worry lines and the intensity he wears through the day. In sleep, his face is relaxed and soft, surrendered to the safety he feels in your bed.

You smile knowing that sharing your bed is his first experience with sleeping so peacefully. He came to you wounded and hunted, having barely escaped an assassination attempt and with nowhere else to go. Though your first few months were fraught with distress and fear, you have both settled into your home with the knowledge that you are safe from the outside world, that his past has been laid to rest and left behind. He still carries his burdens, but they are easier to bear when he can release them at night.

You let your eyes trace over his features now, amazed as always at the sweetness and beauty of the man who holds your heart. His eyelashes flutter against the tops of his cheeks, the lines beside his eyes less furrowed.

He’s sleeping as he usually does: on his back with your head on his chest, his left arm wrapped around your shoulders protectively, his head tilted against yours. His right hand clasps yours where it rests on his waist, moving gently every time he breathes.

Tilting your head back, you smile to yourself as the sounds of his deep breathing reach your ears. The sound only reassures you that he’s sleeping well, undisturbed by anything.

You often remember his first few nights with you — how after making love, he would lie awake for some time, trying to fall asleep. He was always on guard during those days, always attuned to any sign of trouble. He slept with one eye open for months.

And quite often, you would wake to find him up, making a round through the house or in the yard, paranoid about what could be lurking outside. Many were the nights you had to coax him back to bed, assuring him that no one had come for him in the night.

And the nightmares. Those terrible nightmares that plagued him for months.

Once, he awoke in the middle of choking you, having acted out of terror in the middle of a dream. You were afraid he would never trust himself to sleep with you again, but together you worked through it. He’s had nightmares many times since, but they have grown fewer and tamer in the past few months.

That thought makes you smile as well: knowing that your presence beside him at night helps keep his nightmares at bay.

As if in response, the man turns in his sleep, rolling onto his side to face you. He’s still sound asleep, his breath rumbling in his powerful chest, but his right arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close to his body.

You are all too happy to snuggle closer to him. The nights have grown colder, and his body is a never-ending source of heat for your bed. You enthusiastically burrow into his embrace, tucking your head under his chin and tangling your legs with his.

Your heart warms knowing that he reaches for you even in his sleep. Many are the nights he has whispered your name in his sleep, groped his hands to find you in the night. Somehow his heart seeks you even when he sleeps.

He pulls you even closer, his breath softening as if he is stirring a little from his sleep, but he does not awaken. Shifting his weight to press against you more fully, he rubs one broad hand up and down your back, fingers brushing your spine.

Without meaning to, you arch your back in response, pushing your body tighter against his. He lowers his chin as though he were awake, dragging his lips across your forehead before coming to rest against the top of your head.

Your smile comes again, unbidden, warm as the heat radiating off his body.

So many nights, you have lain in this very bed and ached with loneliness. How many cold nights you spent huddled under blankets, wishing for a lover to share your home and bed, to fill you with a warmth that would go beyond your body. This man fills every empty spot in your heart, thrills and soothes and pleasures you in every possible way.

And what a joy it is to know that you have done the same for him, that your love is his safety, his delight, and his peace.

With a knot of emotion rising in your throat, you tilt your head back to press the lightest of kisses against his exposed neck. He stirs slightly, his breath ghosting across your ear, and you just rest your lips against his neck to breathe in his scent.

Earth, sweat, and something else distinctly him. It’s a scent you now associate with comfort, companionship, and warmth.

You kiss him again, wanting to touch him somehow even though he’s asleep. His neck is smooth and warm under your lips, and he stirs again, this time shifting his arms closer around you. He tilts his head a bit to the side as if to give you better access.

Then he makes a sound, almost a moan, almost a sleep-muddled whisper, but you know it’s your name. It’s your name he murmurs in his sleep, when he feels your gentle brushes of affection against his skin.

You smile against his neck, resting your mouth there so he won’t awaken. He remains tensed a moment longer, so you lightly run your hands over him to soothe him back to a deep sleep.

His muscles are coiled under your touch, every inch of his body a tribute to softness and strength. His chest moves against yours slowly, and you gently rub your hands over his ribs, his sides, his hips. He finally relaxes, sighing contentedly as he drifts back into a deeper sleep.

Just before he does, though, you feel him lift his hand, stroke it down the back of your head once. His fingers tangle in your hair, and he nuzzles your face gently, brushing his smooth skin and spiky beard against your cheek.

He hums with pleasure, settles himself against your body, then buries his head in your neck and falls back to sleep.

You follow him soon after, cradling him in your arms while you listen to the steady cadence of his breath and the lovely thump of his heartbeat. You thread your fingers in his dark hair until your strength fades into sleep, just long enough to feel him relax completely in your arms.

All the lonely nights, all the sorrow, all the uncertainty — it’s all been worth it for this moment, and for all the moments that have come before and will come after.

Your love is asleep in your arms, whispering your name and holding you close to his chest, and you can both sleep in the peace and satisfaction of a love that transcends everything else.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

More of my fanfiction if you're so inclined :)

[oolongstains]

Naritaya's Furry Land

It all started when @questfortori showed me this post:

That sure is a PC-98 game that says "furries ga suki". I had to know what this was all about. Why does a PC-98 eroge have the word "furries", in English? Why did it devote a whole room to the idea of loving furries? I needed answers!

Like it says in the post, it's from the (in)famous Alicesoft eroge Rance 4.1, but searching for it didn't give me much in the way of results. The text in the screenshot is first-person, out of character text so it read like some kind of a dev room, but even searching for that didn't bring up much - until I found the script itself. And there it is, Naritaya's heroic pro-furry screed:

Nice to meet you. I'm Naritaya. I'm a newbie CG artist who was in charge of the title CG and a few other things this time. This will be my debut work. Anyway, my goal from now on is to steadily increase the number of furry lovers like me and create a game that could be called definitive for that genre (hah). Everyone who loves dog- and catgirls, or things like elves and devil girls (though the nuance is a little different), basically "non-human girls," stand up now! Alice has its tradition of gal monsters, so this shouldn't be just a dream! はぢめまして。成田屋と申します。 今回タイトルＣＧ＋αを担当しました新人 のＣＧ描きです。これがデビューの仕事とな ります。以後，よろしくお見知りおきを。 とりあえず今後の目標としては，私と同じ Ｆｕｒｒｉｅｓ愛好家を地道に増やしてその 手の決定版ともいえるソフトの発売までこぎ 着けたい，と思ってます（笑）。 犬猫その他のどーぶつ娘，（ちょっとニュ アンスが違うけど）エルフや悪魔っ娘等のい わゆる「人間以外の女の子キャラ」の愛好家 の方，今こそ立ち上がりましょう！アリスに は女の子モンスターの伝統もありますから， 決して夢ではない筈です！

So not only is our friend Naritaya a furry fan, he specifically uses the English word "furries" in romaji more than once while expressing his love for furries. This is a Japanese artist who knows and loves the English furry scene. (Keep in mind, this is 1995!) This is where @moomanibe found copies of some of Naritaya's personal art, with the URL still in the watermark, which is what brought us to:

NARITAYA'S FURRIES LAND

That's right, Naritaya had his own website in the 90s where he posted the anime furries of his dreams, filled with exactly all the kinds of anime art you might remember from the years 1995-2003.

His art style is distinctively 90s/early 00s anime, but there's that heavy use of "furries" in English again. I could only imagine the kinds of connections he must have had with the English-speaking scene, and then I found it tucked among his outgoing links page:

Yes, that's a link to the "Anime Transformation Archive". I lack the subject matter expertise to fully detangle that site's connections to the broader anime/furry scene but it's pretty clear that, yes, there was some western anime-furry fandom connection happening here. Didn't always see much of that back before social media brought us together across languages.

I'm not sure what he's up to now, but wherever you are Naritaya - hope you're still living the anime furries dream.

[belladonnadawn]

We want want a apology 😭😭😭😭

SAY IT WAS JUST A DREMA PLEASEE

"You cheated on me"

Them if you told them that you had a dream that they cheated on you. Ft. Andrew Marston, Kayson Mayer, Isaac Rhoades, Xanthus Claiborne, and Elias (I've been also thinking about making this after I dreamt of Kayson cheating on me with my clone and having a baby with them. Told oomfie @xzhdjsj and they said that they had the same dream but it's Xanthus and Dontis. So I decided to make one for all of them. Thank you for this request!)

Andrew Marston

Waking up after that dream felt heartwrenching, as if it opened a pandora box filled with your fears and insecurities. Rolling over and not seeing Andrew on your side did not help the situation. You sat up with a sigh, the dream— nightmare replayed in your mind.

"Good morning," Andrew greeted you with a soft smile as he continued to prepare breakfast.

You gave him a weak smile as you sat down, which concerned him. "Is everything okay, darling?" He tilted his head, placing the breakfast on the table before sitting beside you.

"I had a dream where you cheated on me," You sighed, defeat evident in your voice.

"Oh, darling, no. I would never do that," He held your hand, kissing the back of it– a gesture that you always found endearing. "I have fought for you— for us. Abandoning you for someone that I would never love as much as you is not just foolish, but also beyond ridiculous. You have my heart, my body, and my soul. And you will always have it."

"It's just… it felt so real. The thought of it feels so scary," You ran your fingers through your hair, feeling the hurt that the dream made you feel once more.

Andrew nodded in understanding, "I understand that. I believe that I'd be upset too if I dreamt of that in a way. But I assure you that this heart only belongs exclusively to you. Reality is different from dreams."

The knife that seems to be lodged in your heart seems to be pulled out. You gave him a smile, feeling foolish for doubting a man who wants your best interest at heart. "Thank you, Andrew," You intertwined your fingers with his, thumb caressing the back of his hand.

"I love you and only you. Always remember that." He spoke, sealing his promise with a soft loving kiss.

Kayson Mayer

"What?! Why would I do that?" Kayson gasped as the words left your mouth.

"You did!"

For a second he looked horrified at the actions that he did not commit, his mouth slightly agape and his brows furrowed. He turned to you, "I-Is it because of my work? You know that I'm only doing it for the tips, right?"

"I know that, Kayson. It doesn't have to reflect what you did in reality."

Kayson almost frowned at your statement, "Then why?"

"I don't know… maybe it's me? I need to do some introspection, though I feel like I know the reason why," You gave him a smile that did not reach your eyes, regretting that you opened this conversation with your clueless— almost innocent boyfriend.

He nodded in understanding before speaking once again, "If it helps, I don't see myself loving someone else. The prospect of spending the rest of my life with you is something that I am looking forward to. Not with others. Just you and you only. You're my first and my last. Understood?"

You gave him a small nod, smiling at his assurance, "Understood."

Kayson let out a sigh of relief, "Good, because I don't want you to think that I'm not loyal or something.

Isaac Rhoades

"Would you cheat on me?" You asked, breaking the afternoon silence.

Isaac's brow furrowed at the sudden question, "Did I do something?"

"No– uh, not particularly. No," You rambled, not knowing how to start this conversation with this topic to your rational and logical lover. Somehow, you're sure that if you said that he betrayed you in your dream he'd laugh at the concept. But since you started it, there's no going back.

"What happened?"

You bit your lips, thinking of a way to phrase the situation without sounding ridiculous. "W-Well, I had a dream where you cheated on me. Look, I know it's ridiculous and so silly. But it's bothering me so—"

He stood up, cupping your cheeks, "I guess we reached that point of our relationship," Isaac chuckled softly. "To answer that question: no, I will not cheat on you. Never."

You looked at him once more, tracing the sincerity of his statement, "Really? You promise?"

"Yes, really. I promise," Isaac smiled, kissing your forehead before holding you in his arms, "You're my only one. I will never break your trust or betray you in any way."

"I love you, Isaac."

"And I love you too."

Xanthus Claiborne

"You seem mad. What happened?" He closed the book as you walked in the room.

You huffed, sitting across him, "Well, good morning to you too."

"Please, enough with games. Have you forgotten that I can feel what you feel? You can't hide that much from me," he spoke with a hint of smugness in his tone. So irritating.

You rolled your eyes. "Nothing. It's stupid." You muttered, not wanting to give him an opportunity to laugh at you or find you ridiculous. His views towards humans are already demeaning enough and you don't want to fuel it.

"I won't laugh," He spoke, urging you to let your thoughts out.

"It's stupid."

"But it's bothering you."

"Yeah, cause you're bothering me."

"Come on, love."

"Fine, you cheated on me in my dream!"

Xanthus blinked out of shock at your admission. You can feel his confusion and you know that he can feel your embarrassment. He let out an abrupt chuckle, "What?"

"Yeah, whatever. Laugh," You scoffed, turning your back from him.

"I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at the context," despite his explanation, you refused to look at him. "To clarify, I will not do that especially with what we have. I want to spend the rest our lives together happy. Betraying you, especially when you are my heart, is beyond absurd."

He pats the space beside him, "Now come here." With a huff, you obeyed, flopping on the couch and still avoiding his gaze.

He cupped your cheek, making sure that you're staring at him. "Our time, though limited, is too precious to me to tarnish with doing such thing. So, no, I will not cheat on you. That dream of you is false and you should always remember that I love you and only you."

Elias

"You cheated on me."

Elias looked at you, laughing at the statement. But his laugh faded as your face remained unchanging, realizing how serious you were. He paused his game, "Are you for real?"

You nodded, "I am for real."

"What? Where did you get that?!"

"In my dreams."

He looked at you with a deadpan expression, in disbelief how you believed your dreams over him. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously."

Elias ran rubbed his face with his hand, "Babe, there's no way that you believe that." He turned to you with a huff, "You know that I am monitored, right?"

"That's your response?!"

"W-Well, I'm only saying! Like, you have proof that I don't sneak or hide something. It's not worth the risk," He babbled, which got a glare from you.

"Not only that, losing you is beyond stupid for me. I don't want to fumble someone like you, especially after what we've been through," Elias spoke with a quiet tone, hiding the fact that he's now vulnerable and bare.

You chuckled, sitting on his lap and wrapping your arms around him, "You promise?"

Elias blushed at your gesture, "I promise."

With a soft chuckle, you leaned towards him, kissing him softly as he wrapped his arms around you.

[victoriadallonfan]

End of Act 1 - Author Thoughts

So, this concludes Act 1 of Dead Eye. 

​It's been a struggle for me to write this afterthought piece, because I have learned so much from writing this original story.

This was not the first time I've written original fiction, of course. I had a brief attempt at a web serial back in late 2016 (I can't even remember the name of it), I've written numerous short fiction stories for Reddit Writing Prompts, and I've dropped some short stories here in Creative Writing in the past. Not to mention contest submissions over the years IRL (nothing gained unfortunately).

However, what made this different is that I actually committed to the act of finishing an entire arc and do my best to flesh out the characters as much as possible. I kept a plan, I followed it, and I tried to make it enjoyable for the readership.

​Admittedly, going from the hundreds of likes and views of my fanfic to the thirty or dozen on these posts felt initially disheartening. 

Initially.

But then I realized that I wasn't thinking about things in perspective. I was no longer using larger fandoms as a crutch for engagement or relying on readers already having a basic understanding of the characters: I was needing to WORK and gain the TRUST of the readers for a totally experimental project.

And bonus, I got amazing comments and analysis each chapter, with people seeming to really enjoy the mystery and action I wrote. I got people investing in characters in just a little under 30k words, which I think is pretty darn decent!

Is there room for improvement? Yes, absolutely. I ended up unhappy with how little screen time Milian got, but a lot of my plans for him involved future plot points that couldn't fit within 6 chapters that I challenged myself. I struggled a lot with describing the city (because I find building descriptions boring), and perhaps I made the tension between Sabra and Persa a bit too thick?

More things I could discuss on that, but there are also things I'm proud of. I really enjoyed the action set pieces and how I distinguished character behavior. I really like that my magic system (based on me noticing how special eyes are so prevalent in fiction, why not make an entire system set around them?) flowed so easily for me to write, and that it allowed me to do fun things with the world. Giant glowing eyeball in the sky makes me giggle all the time.

​So, what is the plan going forward?

For now, there will be a small intermission. I would like to get back into Janus and HITF, maybe do some other fanworks too, just to flex my brain a bit from being in Persa's pov for so long.

The plan is that after a month or two, I will then return for Dead Eye - Act 2 for another 6 arc continuation.

Finally, I want to say: Thank You

Thank you to everyone who supported me, be it by like, comment, or Ko-Fi donation. It was you who kept me going, and made me achieve a dream of becoming an actual author of original fiction.

I promise I won't let you down!

[eerna]

Hiii I have some thought contributions to the Arcane symposium if you'll have me!

I see people understandably angry at how Arcane handles who is or isn’t a villain and I suppose my two cents is that I didn’t have any hope of them handling it right in the first place, even back in s1 there were always parallels made, always some “both cities have good and bad” nuance when one city doesn’t have air to breathe and is colonized by the other. If anything the beginning of s2 was more consistent in that the second Caitlyn is personally inconvenienced she goes full chemical warfare and mass institutional violence

Personally I thought it unlikely that they suddenly change narrative tones and resolve the plot in a way that was satisfying to me, and I knew the pacifist “choose love not hate <3 zaun and piltover arms in arms” both-sides ending was inevitable, so I’m glad they at least had that whole thing with Viktor and Jayce and the timelines to distract me from it

“they shouldn’t have made Viktor, a Zaunite, the villain” but Arcane always made the villain a Zaunite! Before Viktor there was Silco, Piltover chooses peace but Jinx blows the council up and now they have to do a whole “look what you made us do” arc. This was my beef with Arcane from day 1 (it wasn't emphasized enough, IMO, that the villain is Piltover's oppression and marginalization of Zaun, and that this context renders null any "both cities" comparison)

Also Vi was written so poorly this season what's up with that

All that being said I suppose it’s more complicated to discern “writer’s intent” from that kinda show than it would be in a book or an indie project where there are fewer people involved in the plot writing and less interference. Like one deleted scene or one line of dialogue omitted radically changes the message. But well, there's the intended message and there's the manifest message and as the audience we are allowed to criticize both

Of course we shall, step to the podium~ Truly, the "writer's intent" is truly so complicated here, because anti-capitalist messaging in mainstream art powered by capitalism is always a nightmare to get through.

Oh yes it's a good take, I remember the discussions from s1 era well! However, I still don't think the "both sides have good and bad" thing is a red flag in stories, simply because it's true IRL. A ton of people have trouble committing to a side in a conflict because neither is totally morally pure, which completely blinds them to the truth that NOTHING is morally pure and choosing the lesser evil is the way to go. Silco was a brilliant villain to me because he was an oppressor himself, as people in power are rarely anything else, but that didn't mean that Zaunite ideals were worth any less! After all, Ekko held the same anti-Piltover ideals, but he is morally pure and thus unable to become an influential politician. He can support a small society, but not a large one, because no one really can do that without resorting to some bad shit. Just because Silco dreamed of being the same as Piltover's elite and became a class traitor by forcing his citizens into another toxic work culture, except this time they made HIM rich instead of Piltover, doesn't mean we should just give up on trying to make things better. Zaun during Silco's reign is just as worthy of freedom and equality as Zaun during Vander's reign. It doesn't matter that there are terrorists living there now - that doesn't excuse Piltover's violent actions. And s1 seemed to be aware of that, considering how the Enforcers were depicted, and in the end it's the Piltover council who are forced to give up instead of the Undercity. And the choice of peace wasn't as morally pure as it sounds: the council opposed it and was forced into it by Jayce and Mel's combined power, even Jayce was resistant to the terms at first, AND it still left the Undercity in Silco's hands, fixing absolutely none of the sins they committed there. It wasn't an evil terrorist blowing up a bunch of hippies, it was a hurt Undercity girl setting in motion an event that has been brewing for a long, long time, against a system which gave too little, too late.

So yeah, in short, I don't interpret s1 as ever trying to question whether Zaun was right to demand more from Piltover by saying "well both sides are bad so nothing should change". It simply showed the ugly truth to any revolution: leaders are practically never good people, and those who get too close to it are doomed to very cursed lives. And yet, giving up isn't an option, because the system IS bad and the system HAS to be changed, and if that isn't gonna happen by the way of peace, then you can't help but sympathize with those who were wronged when they do something horrible.

That's why it only worked when it focused on individual characters - that way you can understand why everyone is acting the way they are acting, and you avoid falling into broad strokes. S2 instead focuses on the aesthetic of revolution and war and the characters get lost in the big picture, which absolutely sucks and completely negates everything I've been typing about here. In fact, who knows, maybe my opinion changes too after I sit with s2 for a while and contextualize s1 within it. Maybe I was just wishfully thinking and misinterpreting this whole time. I already feel like a clown for defending this show, so I can totally accept that I could probably be wrong here. But I just wanted to write it all out in the name of discussion and interpretation!

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Okay, but like looks at pitch notecards... pulls the Pepe Silvia board back out again because this is a goofy idea.

So, you're Kim.

The show that you thought would start your career falls apart within the first season. You're working retail. You've basically given up on your acting dreams. You got bangs because this man you were kind of dating said you looked exactly like his wife, so you decided to get the guy to do some cathartic roleplay with you. You accidentally help him blow up his entire life.

It's been a time for Kim.

Then.

You get a call from your agent.

That last show you were on? The showrunner has a semi-recently made show with a few seasons under its belt.

Hotshots.

They need a new firefighter for the show and the showrunner remembered Kim! Loved Kim! Wants Kim to pick up this guest role that has the potential of becoming a recurring character.

She decides, yeah. Fuck yeah. I can do this. This will be good for me.

She gets a contract for a few episodes.

She acts her heart out.

The show loves her so much that they expand her role; she's going to be there at least until the end of the season.

Everything's turning up Kim.

She even gets a love interest! A backstory! A career goal on the show!

Kim even reaches out to Marisol and apologizes for her behavior. And Marisol is cool with her now! They get coffee sometimes!

But

Then.

She finds out that the firefighter consultant is from the 118 originally, and that sounds familiar.

And when she tags along with Bobby to see a plane emergency in real life, well, isn't that Buck guy familiar too?

Wait.

Is that Eddie at the emergency?

That can't be right.

She tries to brush it off.

Until.

She has to shadow a firehouse to do character research. And she decides to shadow Bobby because Bobby's the best.

But then she notices that she's been to this fucking fire station before.

And then she notices that this is the fucking firehouse of her sort-of-not-ex, Eddie Diaz.

She has to spend the whole day with him. She gives Eddie a heart-to-heart about the not-relationship they had; about her own parenting struggles (because she does have a kid. The kid lives with her ex in Reno or something and she does regret not reaching out to that kid more often, not doing more). She helps Eddie figure out what he should do about his problems with Chris, which also helps her figure out her own problems with her own child.

And now she has to deal with the fact that her not-quite-ex gets the reward of playing a nurse on her TV show.

But.

Well.

At least she still has the dream job. And maybe, she'll reach out to that kid of hers and try to reconnect too.

And idk, I think this would have been more interesting than Brad.