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chiliconsharls · 5 months ago

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So, I caved in and I did it in detail! A few days ago I posted a meme of the Charlos lore iceberg but then I had some people asking about some bits and I thought, oh, might as well make the whole masterpost. LOW AND BEHOLD, it is here; an extensive compilation of the rich Charlos lore

Below the cut because boy is this bitch long

DISCLAIMER: before we begin I must note a few things. First, this isn't a whole detailed timeline of Charles&Carlos' relationship and every single bit of their moments bc I would've genuinely gone insane, so, like with the iceberg meme, this is merely key details of their relationship that make ME particularly unwell. This is also almost 2K words long. Lastly, not all points are linked as some of them are rather quite simple to find with an easy Google search

They have the same name in different languages. (In fact, Carlos has explained that his ‘chilli’ nickname comes from the fact that a lot of his friends went from calling him ‘charlie’ to calling him ‘chilli’). Their name is of Germanic origin and it means “free man”. Charles is the French/English version of it, Carlos is the Spanish one.

Beginnings & Pre-Ferrari era (2017-2020)

“I knew you before you knew me” – Charles said he had heard about Carlos when he was coming up in racing while Carlos was competing in KF3 (2008-2009)

They were already hanging out by 2017, when Charles was still only a Ferrari academy driver – as told by a reddit user who works in the Yas Marina circuit and shared the story with a tiny Renault helmet signed by Carlos

“I said this guy’s not beating me, no fucking way” – Carlos in Drive to Survive S01E02 after his battle with Charles in the Azerbaijan GP. (Sidenote: The first episode of DTS dedicated to Charles –S01E08– also showcases a battle with Carlos briefly)

Marina Bay Sands pool story – in several instances now, they both have shared the story of their first meeting/first ‘real’ conversation back in 2018, during the race week of the Singapore GP. They both said they saw each other at the pool of Marina Bay Sands hotel (it’s still unclear whether they were inside the pool or just by), and they had dinner where they talked for a while.

Carlos’ said that that first conversation made him think Charles was a good guy but also that when he first talked to him, he seemed innocent

2018 Autosport Awards interview – Charles is giving an interview about how his exciting new season is coming and Carlos pops in and tugs him by the ear, making as if to give him a little smooch

“Carlos! My future teammate!”

Ferrari era (paper & cotton years – 2021-2022)

Youngest Ferrari duo

Lord Perceval nickname is born – despite claims that Charles disliked the nickname Carlos gave him (as requested by Charles himself that Carlos ‘from now on, call me Lord Perceval”), Charles went on to have it as his personal tag on his cap –made for driver use only. He’s also used ‘Perceval’ as his aviator call sign when he did some training with the French Air Force.

Jenga challenge video

Fiorano music challenge – this is their core happy memory, as they have said a few times themselves

“I started to listen to some jazz in the mornings” “Jazz?”

Chess – chess is one core activity they do. They would play a lot, even online. Charles would even stop talking to Carlos when he lost sometimes, and Carlos has stated that he only plays it with Charles.

Charles’ said Carlos plays better at night, and he plays better in the morning to evening. “The flights together are probably the ones I enjoy the most (...) we will put our phones away and play chess. That’s where we have the most interesting and deep conversations and I have really, really good memories of that”

“You haven’t showered together?” “We’re not that close yet” // “I find you spontaneously funny” “Carlos doesn’t do anything but he makes me laugh” – Sky Sports game interview in 2021

Charles going to watch Carlos on the podium in Monaco – Carlos talked later in 2024 about how much it meant for him to see Charles there

“Mate! You are looking at me!”

Red porn couch debriefs videos – not much to say, tbh, Ferrari sat them in a sus red couch to shoot the debrief post-race videos. Some of them are quite something

“Come on, Charles, don’t do this!” – Carlos’ radio in Saudi Arabia ‘21

Jean Alesi calling them ‘la bella coppia’ (“the beautiful couple”) // also, Jean Alesi doing photoshop manips when Charlos fought in 2024

Carlos: “good looking couple” “we make a good couple” “most beautiful pair”

Carlos showing off his strength to Charles in that Ferrari party thing

Everything that was written in the GQ article (by Tom Lamont) as well as the photoshoot

Calling each other beautiful

Charles sharing a sandwich with Carlos

Them calling each other ‘sweetie’, ‘honey’, ‘baby’, ‘love’ // ‘like this or more, darling?’ // ‘thank you, my love’

Bahrain 1-2

Carlos checking in on Charles before his post-race interview in Monza 22’ despite being told he had to go some other place

Ferrari era (leather & forced divorce – 2023-2024)

Football watching together (despite the fact that Charles’ said he doesn’t really follow football) // “Yes, Carlos will be really happy” – Charles after someone asked him if he watched El Clasico and Real Madrid had won that time

Paddle playing too

“Can I choose the position he needs to be in? Take off your clothes, Carlos!”

The gingerbread cookies video

“He loves me” – the whole shell challenges in Zandvoort actually

Talked about racing Le Mans

Charles being jealous of Lando

“Together or nothing. We come as a package”

Charles hiding in Carlos’ closet to surprise him for his birthday

Monza 23’ battle

The Curious Case of Charlos and Pierre Gasly’s PR accusations – During a fan forum in the Singapore GP ’23 weekend, Carlos joked that he would’ve picked Charles to be stuck with in a deserted island, saying: “You see, I would’ve picked Charles, Esteban, I like my teammate” (because Esteban had been asked the same question just before and upon being told he wasn’t allowed to pick his own teammate, Esteban jokingly went: “I wasn’t going to pick Pierre anyway”).

Pierre and Esteban Ocon had a rocky relationship as teammates in Alpine, on top of having an already complicated past together since they’ve known each other since they were kids. Nearing the end of 2023 season, after Pierre (and Esteban) had been criticized for their poor relationship, Pierre talked about friendships in the paddock in an interview and he name-dropped Carlos and Charles, claiming that people “shouldn’t think that they’re all friends”. Despite Pierre having also named Mercedes and Red Bull pairs, people seemed to only latch onto Charlos

It’s important to note that Pierre Gasly is the driver Charles is famously closest to in the whole grid (as they’ve been friends since childhood) but also, he was teammates with Carlos in Toro Rosso for two races in 2017, and is fairly one of the drivers that are close-ish to Carlos as well. In fact, Pierre sometimes hangs with both of them, too.

Puma couch picture we never got the context of

Fred: “are you still single?” Carlos: *looks at Charles* “anyway, changing subject…” – DTS S06E08 // (Sidenote: theres some joking that Charles’ current girlfriend, Alexandra Saint Mleux, and Carlos’ current girlfriend, Rebecca Donaldson, seem to have a slight resemblance to Carlos and Charles, respectively (and the girls also seem to get along quite well))

New York event

Charles timing Carlos’ laps

“I want to give this to you, so you remember me for the rest of your life. For our post teammate era” // “You’re going to leave it there” “No, I won’t" – Carlos gifting him a chili plushie.

“Tell Charles to come close to me and we celebrate this one together” – Australia 24’

China Sprint 24’ incident: “He’s fighting me harder than the rest” // “A kiss on the mouth, everything okay”

Spanish reporter calling them roommates

Insane sim racing videos (almost all of them have some degree of craziness but specially Saudi Arabia, Austria, Dutch, Monza, COTA, Brazil)

Both of them thinking about their morning wood live on camera… then Carlos knowing Charles’ a sleepy guy

Miami merch promo video being cut just right as Carlos seems to go for Charles’ face

“We go from hating each other to loving each other real quick” – actually, that whole motorsport interview for Miami was awesome

Spain 24' inchident - Charles: “He was trying to do something extraordinary because it’s his home race and important moment in his career” // Carlos: “It’s too many times he complains about something”

“Charles and I have one or two ding-dongs a year”

“We look at each other and we smiled like we’re used to” // “We look at each other in the eyes and we understand immediately”

Gladiator II premiere

“Complicate me. Complicate my life, like you always do”

Charles letting Carlos drive his Ferrari in Monaco and show Carlos Sr

“I wanna smash you”

Carlos grabbing Charles’ balls in Mexico 24’

“You should try the chilli crab … I am the chilli crab”

“Try in Spanish” – Charles post Vegas 24’

“Carlos is not my girlfriend, I’m not gonna miss him like crazy”

“I would listen to you for hours”

Abu Dhabi 24’ radio: “it hurts a lot… I really wish we could’ve won it also for the last season with Carlos”

Charles goodbye to Carlos: “Now, I can call him a friend outside of racing” // Charles calling him 'chilli' in IG post (Carlos' said his personal friends call him chilli)

“I wouldn’t be the driver I am today if he hadn’t been my teammate”

“I was happy with Charles. I would’ve continued with Leclerc for life”

“Amazing four years fighting for Ferrari” — Carlos on IG

Fred: “I have never in all my time of racing seen two teammates so intensely preoccupied with what the other one is doing”

Charles being in Fiorano for Carlos’ last farewell with his father driving a Formula 1

Timeless traditions/Uncategorized info

Starting almost all videos with: “Helloooo” “hola”

“Are you ready?” “I’m always ready, Carlos”

Zero concept of personal space

Charles often looks smaller than Carlos despite actually being taller

Hand size difference

Yapper & Yapper

Carlos’ love language is physical violence

Carlos –a self-proclaimed butt guy— often taps Charles’ butt

They had 9 podiums and three 1-2s

They had 90 races together and never crashed

They’re each other’s longest teammates as of date

#charlos #1655 #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #f1 rpf analysis #(i mean technically is not an analysis and technically its not even rpf most of these are actual facts lmao)#but yk. for the Bit #f1 rpf #long post

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torturedbrat · 3 months ago

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i have an idea for ur next fic, could u do a billxfem reader smut where her parents are soooo strict and protective but they FINALLY let bill stay the night but the down side is she has to keep her door open and stuff and her parents room is unfortunately right across from hers, they also have their door cracked open and everything bc they want to make sure they're not doing anything but bill wants to get freaky, she’s obviously scared to get caught

i just think the idea of him having to keep the reader quiet would be so hot 🫣

༺ Tw: NSFW

★ Bill 2008.

★ Female reader

★ Sub!Reader, Dom!Bill

Summary: < You have strict parents, they don't like the fact that you've got a boyfriend now but you'd do anything for them to let him spend the night. You end up convincing them, but as the night comes, the passion takes over. >

—Quiet desire.

You've always been a good girl, never giving your parents any problems since you've always been under their watchful eyes all your life—but since you turned eighteen, their grip seemed to tighten rather than loosen.

They were also starting to understand that you were a teenager after all and that you had other things on your mind now, other things you entertained yourself with, you weren't a little girl anymore. So when you walked in one day and told them that you had a boyfriend, their mouths fell open. They tried to pull you away from those thoughts, to tell you that you were "too young" to have a boyfriend.

But you didn't listen and even tried to get him to meet your parents a few times—which didn't go exactly as planned because in your parents' eyes he was 'different,' a 'bad influence' that was going to lead their precious daughter to the worst path possible. Even so, you never gave up, you put your mind onto letting them know they had nothing to fear. It's not like he was the antichrist after all; he was just a guy that liked to express himself through his appearance, even if it was a bit too eccentric at times... But the idea was that they'd put their trust in her, for once in her life.

So one night, after pleading to your parents for weeks, you manage to convince them to let him spend the night, your first night together. Of course, it had to be at home; there was no way in hell they would let you be unsupervised at his place—because, yeah, he already lived on his own. So after a long conversation with them, they finally decided to let him stay under one condition, one simple rule: no closed doors. Of course, you completely agreed, you thought that was better than nothing after all, right?

━╋

Once he arrived at your home that afternoon, it couldn't be worse. Your parents followed you two around basically all the time, sitting in between you two on the couch, eating dinner with uncomfortable expressions on your faces due to the invasive questions your parents threw over at your boyfriend again and again—and even making sure you weren't sneaking away from them for too long... They were definitely embarrassing you, and oh, you were mad.

But once your parents finally got into their room at the end of the night, of course, leaving their door slightly open—just to make sure you two weren't doing anything you'd regret later…

You made your way into your bedroom while holding onto Bill's fingers in yours, a sigh escaping your lips as you thought of closing the door, but you knew you couldn't, reminding yourself of that stupid rule. 'What's wrong, baby? You're quiet today.' Bill uttered to you, while he went to sit down by your bed, looking up at you with both eyebrows raised, studying you—he already figured out why you were acting this way; all he wanted was to see you well, though; it was your first night sleeping together, after all, a big deal. He had put into his head he had to make it special for you somehow.

You looked down for a moment, also making your way towards your small bed to sit right by his side. It had been killing you all night that you couldn't be so close to him. 'I just wish we could be alone, ugh.' You told him with a half pout of your lip you didn't even seem to recall you had it on. On the other hand, Bill let out a chuckle at your simple response, shaking his head like he knew it was impossible. 'Oh, I know, you think I don't want to devour you right now?' He purred suddenly, closer up to you. He was just being playful, but it wasn't funny at all to you— At his words, your ears perked up, but so did your knowledge that the door was still open, so you nudged him on the side with your elbow, eyebrows furrowing. 'Don't even do that again… my parents could hear you; you're crazy.' You spat out, crossing your arms up to your chest.

But this time, he seemed a bit more serious about it—his fingers, impatient, running up and down your forearm with insistence. Then, he spoke again, but this time a bit more quietly, just so he wouldn't have to hear you scold him for a second time. 'Yeah, I'm definitely crazy… to touch you. It's been so long.' He pointed out, with that sweet look on his face whenever he wanted something, whenever he wanted to get you to say yes to him. But you shook your head again, constantly shifting your body so you could look out the door. That nervous feeling at the pit of your stomach you've had all day… it was becoming worse. 'No, Bill.. stop it—' But before you could keep talking, he was already all over you, spreading kisses down your jaw, onto the skin of your neck, exactly where he knew you liked. 'What If they see… no, we can't, we can't…' But your breath was already ragged, and of course, your resolve was weakening against the hot breeze coming from his mouth every time he placed another peck, and another, and another... You wanted to shake your head and tell him no, tell him that they couldn't be doing this, not there—where your parents might watch at any time now. But everything that came out of your mouth were incoherent babbles, your head falling back onto his shoulder as he worked his mouth down, further onto your collarbone.

━╋

And that's when he pushed you down, seeing you weren't putting up any resistance anymore. It's not like you could anyways; he was always so convincing. It was almost crazy how you'd just give yourself up to him without even questioning yourself. When Bill had you right where he wanted, he hovered over you, kissing your lips delicately as he kept you pressed against the small bed, his feet almost hanging off it—his hands working to sneak under your loose shirt with ease. 'Are you going to let me have you, hm?' He asked you with a hint of desire in his eyes, a desire he quite couldn't get over till he had you right then and there. He didn't give a fuck about your parents or the opinion they had about him—but he did care about you and the fact that he'd been longing to touch you for weeks, to have you under him again. Nothing else mattered.

━╋

You nodded your head with an eager expression on your face, which you swore looked pathetic, but that didn't stop you from wrapping your arms around him, having him all for you for that one night. Bill just watched you as he started to move down onto you, making sure to actually not fall down off your bed as he did so. He looked more like a giant lying there—his teeth gently nipping at your t-shirt as he kissed you on your covered belly, pushing the fabric up with his large hands, your hips bucking up for a moment, your eyes searching for his, your lips parting to let out a tiny gasp at your uncovered stomach, and the way his lips brushed against it. You squirmed at his hands grabbing the waistband of your pants, not knowing surely what was coming next, but you let him continue. Even though a few thoughts in your head that popped out occasionally told you that you were being completely reckless and bad for even thinking of having a good time with your parents in the next room, you just couldn't help it. At this point, it wasn't a want but a need.

━╋

Bill pushed down your clothes without hesitation; you tried to cover yourself with your hands, your gaze averting once more towards the door almost anxiously, biting down on your lip—but one second to another, you felt something hot, wet, dampening your panties, which made you moan immediately, completely forgetting about everything else again. Bill's tongue teased you once more, flattening against the fabric covering your pussy before he moved up a hand towards your face, holding onto you. 'If you keep making noise… you're the one who's going to get us caught.' He murmured against her, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he pushed your panties to the side, taking a good look at you, wetting his lips with his tongue before he spoke up one last time. 'Can you stay quiet for me?' He whispered, trying to look into your eyes to see any kind of impediment from you—but all he got was a quiet nod.

After that, he immediately dove in, sinking his tongue onto your delicate folds, licking straight from the entrance to your clitoris, making you shiver at the contact of his piercing against such a sensitive spot. You tried so hard to be quiet, so hard to comply and stick to what you said you'd do, but it was tough when he was licking you so deliciously, flicking his tongue perfectly.

You threatened to let out another moan, but his hand quickly went up towards your mouth, shutting you up by covering it with his large hand, at which you could only let out muffled sounds, ones that were making him feel even more desperate for you, his own dick jumping in his boxers with excitement at the way your fluids spread in a thin layer on his chin. Bill moved back up, leaving you wanting more… but he had another plan for both of you now. 'Do you think you'd be as quiet if I fucked you right now?' Bill purred against your ear, making you tremble in pure lust at his words—as he tucked a few hairs away from your face.

He looked calmly into your eyes, but your knees were buckling, and you knew that look was just a facade for what he really had in mind to do to you, for what he really was hiding behind them: an animalistic desire for you. 'I don't know if I can do it—' You muttered quietly in return, if it was already hard for you to stay quiet, you couldn't imagine what it would take for you to do so when he decided to pound into you… You were still horrified that your parents found out, and he could see that in your eyes.

He moved down to kiss you on the lips again in a soothing motion, making you taste yourself along with a sigh—as his hands untied his belt right at the same time, pulling it off. 'Yes, you can.' He finally answered you, in a quiet exhale, nuzzling his nose on the side of your face before he pushed down his jeans, just enough to pull out his cock from those boxers. He had to be careful in case your parents decided to get out of their room and saw you two in action, he'd be quick enough at looking decent again, he thought.

He got on his knees, right in between your legs, and with a quick move, he turned you around on the bed, grabbing your hips so he'd readjust you right where he wanted you to be. 'Ready?' He cooed, with a raised eyebrow. And even before you could answer, he was already forcing himself inside of your hole—he had to hold in a groan, his head throwing back automatically. The thrill of thinking you two could get caught at any time was only fueling the need to fuck you all night, to make it even more risky. 'Oh my—fuck...' You cried out as quietly as you could, your head hanging low as your back arched, again trying with your whole being not to moan and get yourself in big trouble.

Your legs shook, but that didn't mean he'd stop himself. Bill started to set a pace to his thrusting, his fingers digging deeply into your hips as he closed his eyes. He was also doing his absolute best to not ramble over and over again about how good it felt, as he'd usually do when you two were together. He gave you an encouraging stroke on your back, suddenly laying a hand over it to press you down some more, to have you completely at his mercy. You held onto the pillow with both hands as he slammed his thickness into you repeatedly, without any second thoughts. All that could be heard were the slight sounds of the wood creaking under you and his balls hitting your clit with each movement he made. — His hand kept you in place till his slightly curved cock hit that one particular spot… That's when you couldn't hold back your whimpers anymore.

But as soon as you did so, his hand went quickly to shut you up again, this time by pushing your head down roughly against your pillow, leaning down just a bit to murmur a simple. 'Shut up.'

Of course, you couldn't do anything else but obey; he was forcing you down onto the pillow, barely letting you space to breathe. How would you even moan now? Even so, his length was filling you up so good you couldn't even think about anything else anyways. — It's not like you wanted. 'That's it, baby, taking it so good… just how you like it.' He praised, knowing he wouldn't last much longer if he kept seeing you trying so hard to move under his grip, struggling to breathe. You tried to speak up, to make a sound, anything… but he was handling you so roughly, you didn't even know where he got that strength from.

Even so, you were so close now to your release, and he knew it, because he could feel your legs shake under him, aching to let your orgasm take over. His loose hand went to splay itself onto your ass, squeezing and kneading tight onto it, eyeing your cunt one last time and the way he pushed himself in and out of you before he felt your walls clenching tight around him. That's when he pulled out and came all over your back, almost spilling over your shirt that was hanging down closely to it.

Both of you were breathing uncontrollably, his hands roaming all over your weak body before he closed his fingers around a few of your hairs, lifting your head back up so you'd sit up on your knees, your back against his chest. 'Do you think I can make you cum again before your parents notice?'

A/N: Thank y'all for voting! I'll still do the other two requests, so don't worry.

#tokio hotel #bill kaulitz #moodboard #tom kaulitz #2000s #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #emo #georg listing #bill kaulitz headcanons #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x female reader #smut requests #gustav schäfer #torturedbrat

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bqu1nns · 7 months ago

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hello!!! my apologies i know someone requested a q fic that i posted an hour ago BUT i deleted it, not knowing that it would delete the inbox request (im dumb) BUT ITS HERE!!! whoever u are, this is for u lol!

the perspective of where i wrote this from is that you're sal’s youngest sister (maybe 6-7 years younger than him BUT you aren't a minor to brian dont worry!!!!) but he would've never ever imagined you and brian, his best friend, to ever hook up with one another. if he ever found out, he’d probably never talk to either one of you guys ever again. also this is set in 2008 maybe ?? peak tenderloins era. i think …

brian quinn ☠︎︎ daddy’s girl

1376 words ♡

you awoke from the sound of your doorbell ringing at an ungodly hour. 2:37 am read your clock in bright and blaring red lighting. it made you jump slightly but nonetheless, you took some time to orient yourself, your heart already racing from the sudden interruption. lazily, you got up and started to question… who the HELL could that even be at my door at this hour?

you didn't know anyone that would come up unannounced, hell, your apartment complex wasn't the kind of building to let in strangers to show up, especially in the middle of the night. you grabbed a spare hoodie (brian's hoodie…) throwing it over your tank top as you padded towards the door.

then, all of a sudden, came a knock. three sharp taps, followed by a familiar, deep voice — one that you could always hear in the back of your mind.

“it’s me. baby please, open up”.

brian fucking quinn.

what was he doing here and why must it be at 2:40 in the morning? you unlock the door, opening it just enough to see him standing there, illuminated by the orange glow of your apartment's hallway. he looked… disheveled. like he woke up on the wrong side of his bed (he did). his hair was messy, like he’d been running it through his hands over and over, black hoodie with a jacket hanging open over it.

but it was his face that really made you take a second look. his eyes – those stupid, downturnt eyes that were too expressive for his own good– were tired and red-rimmed, as if he hadn't slept for a day or two.

something stinged in your heart but you broke the silence, “brian?”, you whispered softly, your voice still riddled with sleep and confusion. “what are you doing here?”.

he let out a shaky breath, putting his hands in his pockets as he looked at you through the crack of the door, “m’sorry angel”, he spoke, low and rough. “i… i know it's late and you should probably be sleeping but i couldnt… i didn't know where else to go except here”.

in that moment, you swung the door open, letting him in. he hesitated for a second, like he wasn't too sure if he should step inside but as he did, you caught the faint smell of his cologne, familiar and homely in a way that made your chest ache for him.

“i couldn't stop thinking about you hon”, he said, words almost feeling too frantic and rushed, as if they’d been bottled in for too long. “every time i try to do the right thing and just stay away, it just… it never fuckin’ works. it never works and i never want it to work. but tonight, i just– i couldn't stay away. not in a million years”.

he seemed like he was on the verge of falling apart if you hadn't caught the tears gathering in his eyes. it was too much to take.

“ya think it's easy for me?”, he continued, voice breaking slightly. “i hate sneaking around to see you. i.. we cant even go on dates together and i just hate lying to sal. i hate feeling like im ruining everything. but not seeing you? pretending like you dont matter to me? pretending that the thing that we have is nothing? baby, that's worse. that's so much worse”.

“brian…” you start, but he shakes his head, stepping closer to you.

“no”, he cuts you off gently. “just…please listen”, his hand at your hip, his thumb tracing a slow pattern against your skin.

“you're so stubborn, you know that?”, he murmured, his voice soft. “you act like you don't want all this. like you don't need me or that you're fine keeping this… whatever this is… a complete secret. but trust me, i can see right through you baby”.

your breath hitches as he drags his thumb across your bottom lip, his gaze following the movement as if he was trying to memorize every second of it. “every time i touch you”, his voice deep, “you melt. you let me in, even though you're so scared of what might happen if someone found out. but right now? right now, it's just you and me”.

it’s like you're under his spell.

“still scared, baby?”, he asked, leaning down just enough that his lips were merely a breath away from yours.

“no. no i’m not”, you whisper. you tried to sound confident but the tremble in your voice gave it away.

“but brian we shouldn't—”.

“i don’t care”, he says, voice making your heart ache. “you've been driving me insane, baby. do you even know how hard it is to hold back whenever i see you?”.

his lips find your neck, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses all over your skin, each one making it more and more difficult to think. “let me take care of you baby. just tonight. no one has to know, i swear”.

you knew you had to stop this that there were a billion reasons why this was a horrible idea but when his hands gripped your waist and his teeth grazed the sensitive spot on the right side of your neck, every reason just went away.

your breath hitched, the air between you both feeling impossibly warm. his soft touch was just enough to make you whimper, his hands leading you to the bedroom like he was afraid you might slip away from him forever.

“you don't know how long i've been waiting for this, bri”, you murmured against his skin. “to have you like this— i've been thinking about it for so long and it just seemed impossible..”

“brian..” you managed to whisper, your voice shaky as he got into your bed. you begin to curl his hair with your fingers as he's on top of you. you tug him back up to kiss you but this time, it was so much more slower and deeper, his tongue teasing yours as he kissed you like he had all the time in the world.

“i love the way you say my name”, he said, soft and low. his fingers trailed your body up and down, leaving goosebumps in its wake. he leaned down and slid his hand between your thighs, his fingers teasing your slick folds. you gasped, your hips lifting off of the bed as you sought more of his touch. he wanted it too, slipping one finger inside of you, then two, curling them just right to hit that spot that made you see stars.

you moaned, your head falling back against a pile of pillows as he worked quicker and quicker. his rings brushed against your inner thighs, the cold metal being a total opposite to the heat of his skin. each thrust sent shivers racing down your body. his fingers stretched you out deliciously, making you arch your back, pressing your hips against his hand

he rubbed tight circles around your clit with his thumb, plunging it deeper than you ever felt before. the rough texture of his skin and the coolness of his rings made a maddening combination of sensations. your juices flowed freely, coating his fingers while making obscene wet sounds as he worked harder and harder towards your orgasm.

“look at you, so desperate for my touch”, he growled, breathing heavily. “your pretty little pussy’s grippin’ my fingers so tightly, like she doesn't want to let them go”, he chuckles.

he curled his fingers rougher inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made your toes curl and your vision blur. at the same time, he pinched your clit between his thumb and forefinger, the cold metal of his rings making you scream out in pleasure.

you cried out, your inner walls clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of pure ecstasy washed over you. he helped you work through your climax, fingers never stopping until you collapsed back onto the bed, spent and trembling.

he pulled out his fingers, bringing them to his lips and sucking them clean, “fuck, baby, you taste better than i remembered. i could finger this sweet pussy all night long”.

and you let him show you how good he could make you feel.

#first smut fic ever im nervous #brian quinn #brian quinn x reader #impractical jokers #brian quinn x female oc #brian quinn x female reader #q x reader #q impractical jokers #the tenderloins #need him

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fancyfeathers · 25 days ago

Text

That Is The Question

Yandere!Justice League & Yandere!Young Justice w/ Huntress!Darling & Sidekick!Darling

Part One, The Huntress -> Next Part

This part is told from the perspective of Huntress!Darling

(A/N- This is a mini project I am working on while taking a small break from my Burn It All Down series while I work on plot planning for it.)

The Watchtower

May 3, 2008, 10:00 EST

“Recognized. Huntress 1-7.” You heard the computer system speak as you stepped out of the zeta tube into the Justice League’s real headquarters, The Watchtower. You were not dressed in your suit or gear, just dressed in civilian clothing, a pair of denim shorts, black tank top, black hoodie, and an old beat up pair of high tops, after all you did not really fear like getting all suited up to just deliver the rest of the Justice League bad news. No one was waiting for you at the entryway, you could even hear the sounds of conversation from the conference room, and you gritted your teeth when you realized they did not even wait for you. You groaned, shaking your head as you walked over to the conference room, pressing the button by the door and letting it slide open, and the room fell silent as you stepped inside, all heads turning to look at you.

“Ah, Huntress, sorry for starting without you, but-“

“Save it, Boy Scout.” You cut off Superman as he smiled at you as he started to stand up to greet you, but at your harsh words, he just stopped in his tracks. You walked over to the conference room table, not even bothering to sit down, just slamming down your membership card to the Justice League on the table. “I quit… just thought I would come in person at least to say it since it’s polite or whatever…”

“Huntress, please think about this.”

“I have already thought about it, Arrow.” You quickly snap back a reply to the archer, slapping away his hand when he tried to reach for your arm when you attempted to walk away. “I can’t be a part of the Justice League anymore… I just can’t… not after everything that has happened.”

“Beautiful, just-“

“What the fuck did you just call me, Lantern?!” You slowly turn your glare to the brunette Green Lantern sitting across the table from where you stand, your very being filled with rage at the words he just said. “The only man I have ever truly loved and trusted completely just died and you have flirted with me on multiple occasions since then- for fuck’s sake, he was a member of the Justice League to and it’s like he never even existed to you all! But when I quit, it's like your whole world is coming to an end! What the actual fuck is wrong with you all?!”

“(Name), just listen to reason, please.”

“I’m done listening, Dinah.” You snap at Black Canary, who was just attempting to calm you down after your outburst. You then snap your head at Batman, who is just silently staring you down with a cold as ice glare. “Don’t even try finding me in Gotham, Batsy. I’m moving out of that fucking hellhole… There is nothing left for me there anymore.” You turn on your heel, beginning to walk right out the door you came in from. “Hope you all have nice lives, see you never.”

Peach Springs, Arizona

May 7th, 2010, 12:00 MST

That was all two years ago…

It has been two years since you resigned from the Justice League, to put it in polite terms. That same night you quit, you packed up everything that mattered to you in your car and just started driving, not even bothering to say goodbye, after all, you really did not have that many people to say goodbye to anymore. You drove until your car broke down near a small town in the middle of nowhere, Arizona, and you were taken in and patched up. You settled down there, well settled as much as you could though you never really left that hero life behind, after all it was how you could look after the people who took you in and there were grateful for that, you were the town’s guardian angel and their best kept secret, everyone who lived there knew that you were the Huntress but it was an unspoken rule not to tell a soul for how much you have been through already and what you’ve done for them, and thank goodness for that since you would not want your life up turned now of all times, when you have found yourself a reason to live again which took the form of your young adoptive protégé, a teenage girl you managed to rescue from an organ trafficking ring. She wanted you to train her, so you did, especially given that the poor girl had nowhere else to go but besides stay with you…

What an interesting mother-daughter duo you two were together.

“Hey sugar, how was school today?” You asked your adoptive daughter as you heard the back door open, and you were sitting down on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. You glanced over to the clock on the oven, it was only noon. You turned back to your daughter as she set her backpack down on the floor by the back door as she took off her shoes, and you noticed there was a slight shake in her form. “Hun, why are you home early? Did something happen?”

“Well-“

“Why don’t you go to another room, kid?” Your stomach twisted in knots as you heard another voice come from the doorway that was far too familiar for comfort. You slowly looked up and groaned as you saw the familiar red and yellow suit that belonged to the far too familiar speedster. Barry had his cowl pulled back to reveal his blonde hair and blue eyes. “Sorry for dropping in, it’s been a while-“

“What are you doing here, Allen?”

“Mom, wait, you know the-“

“Go to your room, we’ll talk about this later, Sugar.” You could practically hear your daughter roll her eyes as you watched her pick up her backpack up again and walk off to her room, or well you knew she was lurking in the hallway just past your sight, eavesdropping on your conversation, but you really didn’t care, it was just to get Barry off your back. “Why are you here, Barry?”

“Well it’s a bit of a story, I found your kid in full gear about an hour from here, there was a smuggling ring base in a warehouse being run by the Intergang that the League has been watching for a while and I was sent to intercept a shipment there only to find her there.”

“Jesus Christ, what did she do?”

“Knocked three of their guys out before she got hit pretty hard herself.” Your anxiety swelled as you glanced back over to see if your daughter was hiding behind a wall, and you guessed that Barry caught on to your stress. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t worry, I got her patched up.”

“Oh, thank god- wait, how did you know where I lived?”

“Don’t be mad-“

“Is the League fucking stalking me??”

“It’s not like that!”

“Then what is it, Barry?!”

“We just want to make sure you’re okay, alright? You haven’t been right since you left the Justice League.” He sighed, reaching out and placing a hand on your shoulder. You would have lashed out two years ago, but you stayed completely calm these days, even with your bad reputation in the hero scene. “You’ll always have a seat saved for you at the table when you’re ready to come back.”

“I have a question for you, is it possible to bring the dead back to life?” You asked the blonde speedster, gently pushing his hand off your shoulder, already knowing the answer to your question. “I haven’t been alright since he died, alright, when he died and you all acted like nothing was wrong, just another case, not like a member of the Justice League died, someone I cared about very much.”

“Look, we’re all sorry about what happened-“

“I remember that night, I sent a message out on the comm line and I know for a fact that you heard me and had the ability to get there in time to save him, but you didn’t, why?” You scowled, keeping yourself from lashing out at Barry, keeping yourself calm since you have made too much progress now to go back. “You or Superman, you both would have been fast enough, but you didn’t come and I was the one who was holding him when he died, Vic is gone and he is not coming back, and whose fault is that?”

“There was nothing we could do-“

“That’s bullshit and we both know that.” You sighed, walking over to your kitchen cabinet and pulling out a wine glass from a higher shelf along with a bottle of red wine. “Thank you for bringing my girl back home, but I’m not joining the Justice League again. You can see yourself out.”

“Alright, but if you need me, you know where to call.”

“Goodbye, Barry.” You sighed a sigh of relief as a gust of wind blew past you, and he disappeared in a blur, closing the back door behind him. You popped the cork of the bottle of red wine and began pouring it into your glass. You were already going to have a drink today, but you needed it now more than ever. You brought it to your lips, taking a long sip as you began to think, why did they care so much about you, but not care enough about Vic to save him, after all, that was the question. “Hey, Sugar?”

“Ya?”

“You’re grounded for ditching school, no missions with me for a month.”

“Damn it.”

Washington, D.C.

July 4, 13:55 EDT

You knew you should not, but you had loose ends to tie up, or rather loose ends of your old partner. You were not about to leave your daughter thousands of miles away, home alone, so you brought her along for the ride. Though there was one massive problem with your plan, when you left the Justice League you did not clear out your partner’s things from the Hall of Justice or the Watchtower, so that meant you had to put on the costume again to go inside and since your young protégé is tagging along, she comes along with you, full suit and all.

Huntress and her little Nightingale.

There was just another problem with your plan, as you stalked outside the Hall of Justice, just hidden in the tree line of the park that surrounded the building, sure you expected a few tourists because there was a museum display in the front of the building, but there were camera crews and everything.

“So we’re not going through the main door?”

“We never were, Babydoll.” You gave your little girl a wink as you reached out a gloved hand and pinched her cheek. “This just complicated things a tad… You remember that training game we used to do where you would try to grab something without me spotting you?”

“Ya?”

“Think of this like that, just don’t let any civilians spot you-“ You cut yourself off as you felt a pressing sensation in the back of your mind like someone was asking permission to come inside, and there was only one person you knew who had that sort of power. You scanned the massive front entrance of the Hall of Justice, seeing if you could spot any familiar faces, and a familiar sight you did see, Martian Manhunter looking right at you.

“You know, you may come in through the front entrance, you are always welcome back into the Justice League.” The voice of J’onn rang through your mind as he stared at you, which made you roll your eyes. “Your new partner would be welcome as well to visit the Hall of Justice.”

“Not really in the rejoining the League mood, J’onn. I’m just here to grab the Question’s old things… he left some stuff here before he died.” Your own mind was even slow to say that, as if part of you did not want to admit that Vic was dead. “And when have sidekicks been welcomed into the League’s headquarters, even the secured places of the Hall of Justice? Last time I was in the League, Batman was pretty struck by that sort of thing.”

“I suppose this would be a special day then.” You raised your eyes at that comment, but it still intrigued you to say the least. “But if it is your intention not to create a scene, then perhaps it would be best for you not to sneak in the Hall of Justice through the back windows of the library; there are new alarms in there that were just installed last month.”

“…fuck it, fine.” You groaned as you leaped forward from the branch you were camped out on, grabbing onto another one like uneven bars in gymnastics and flipping onto the pavement and landing on your feet. You could hear the crowd’s shocked gasps and applause as your little girl followed, landing on her feet as you began your walk through the crowd, growing more uncomfortable in the spotlight that you put yourself in once again.

“It’s the Huntress!”

“Didn’t she leave the Justice League two years ago?”

“Who is that girl with her?”

“You don’t know? That’s Nightingale, her sidekick.”

“Like Robin to Batman?!”

“Oh my god, I’m like your biggest fan, Huntress!”

“Lots of people here today, J’onn.” You chime up as you walk past the security gates set up, walking up the stairs of the Hall of Justice to where Martian Manhunter stands near the doors. “May I ask what the occasion is? Let me guess, given that Nightingale is welcome, something like a tour for the kids.”

“I am not a kid!”

“Yet you’ll always be my little girl.” You smirk at your partner’s response to your comment, which earned a small smile from J’onn as well. “To put introductions aside, this is my sidekick, Nightingale. Nightingale, this is Martian Manhunter, a former colleague of mine when I was in the Justice League.”

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” Nightingale gave a small smile and wave to the Martian, handshakes for her were off the table, the only person she allowed to touch her was you. You knew J’onn would not mind since you knew during your days in the Justice League, he worked with all sorts of victims and their trauma.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Nightingale.” You watched as J’onn gestured with an arm to lead you both inside the building. “Please come inside, we will be able to talk inside. Batman, Green Arrow, the Flash, and Aquaman will all be here shortly, as well as Red Tornado, who is already inside the library. I am sure they would wish to speak to you as well.”

“Thank you, but I don’t think we have the time today.” You walked forward, the glass doors sliding open as Nightingale followed after you. “I’m just here to grab a few things from storage, and then we’ll be on our way.”

“If that is what you wish.” You walked inside and could hear behind you when J’onn turned his head to speak to Nightingale. “You may tour the Hall of Justice if you would like, or you may wait in the library inside if you so wish.”

“Um… Huntress?”

“You can do what you want, Babydoll.” You replied to her, glancing over your shoulder at her unsure gaze. “I won’t be long.”

You promised her you would not be long, but it was so hard when looking over everything was so emotional for you. You stood in the basement archives of the Hall of Justice, looking through the cardboard box labeled with your partner’s old alias. It was full of messy notes and journals; he was never the most organized type, even if he was one of the best detectives in the world; he was also a conspiracy theorist after all.

The Girl Scouts are behind the crop circle phenomenon.

Pop Songs Contain Hidden Government Updates.

Shakespeare stole all of his plays, and they were actually written by other playwrights.

So much of it just made you laugh as you sifted through the box, a bittersweet chuckle that made your gut hurt. You were taking all of this with you, but you were specifically after his case binder. He kept one with potential leads for the Justice League to follow on certain cases, including his last case, which irritated him for weeks before his death, and you were finally going to solve it for him.

You finally found the binder at the bottom of the box, and you sighed a sigh of relief as you picked it up, and goodness, it was heavy. You managed to balance it on one arm as you flipped it open, pushing past all the old case files in folders until you finally reached the last one he was working on, you pulled it out before setting the case book back in the box, you would come back for it later after you got a start on this case. You flipped the file open, reading it as you began walking back upstairs, hopefully to find that sidekick of yours.

[FILE: Q-47-CADMUS – RECORDED 3:47AM // UNKNOWN SAFEHOUSE // VIC SAGE]

SUBJECT: CADMUS. Cadmus Labs. Project Cadmus.

Location: Washington, D.C., of course it is. The city where truth gets bought, sedated, or buried under a monument.

OBSERVATION:

“Genetics research lab” is the public-facing phrase. They call it that, like it's a flu vaccine factory.

But Cadmus doesn't research genes.

It rewrites them.

It rehearses them.

It resurrects them.

THEORY 1: THE LABYRINTH HAS NO EXIT

Cadmus, named after the myth. He sowed dragon’s teeth and raised soldiers. Not metaphors. History. Warning labels.

What if Cadmus isn’t just a lab, but a ritual?

A living spell disguised as science.

Gene-editing as invocation.

DNA = Divine Numerological Algorithm.

But who’s cloning who?

THEORY 2: DNA DOESN’T MEAN WHAT WE THINK

Double helix = locked door.

What if DNA doesn’t describe life, it summons it?

Every gene strand is a syllable in the universe’s true name.

Cadmus is trying to speak to God.

Or worse, reply to something already spoken.

UNANSWERED QUESTIONS:

Why do none of the Cadmus employees have baby pictures? (Scanned their records. Birth certificates are postdated by three years. Clones? Time-jumps? Manufactured memories?)

Why do I keep dreaming in binary?

CONCLUSION: TRUTH DENIED. FACTS MALFORMED.

Cadmus isn't the monster.

It's the nest.

The egg.

Something's waiting to hatch.

And we’ve already named it with our blood.

I’ll keep digging. But every answer tastes like ash.

Either I’m onto something...

Or they’ve already rewritten me, too.

– Q

You groaned as the doors to the library slid open, as you closed the file that gave you more questions than answers, but Vic’s writing on cases always did that to you. You tucked the file under your arm as you looked around the library, your gaze falling at the end of the room, the far end with the sliding doors that led into the access room which held the zeta tube which led to the Justice League’s real headquarters, The Watchtower, that floated above the planet in orbit. You spotted a few figures at the end of the room as well, and your heart immediately sank.

You already did not like the side of your former colleagues, the Flash, Green Arrow, Batman, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, and Red Tornado, but it sent shivers down your spine to see your little girl tensely sitting beside other teenagers around her age on the library’s furniture. You recognized the children; after all, you kept up with the news. There were Robin, Kid Flash, Aqualad, and Speedy all sitting beside her.

As you stepped forward, all of the heads of the Justice League members turned to look at you. Still, your focus was fixated on the red face of your daughter, clearly uncomfortable with the attention she was receiving, so you forced a smile, the tense kind of smile that hinted at the rage you were hiding inside you. You placed a hand on the Kid Flash’s shoulder, who was standing in front of your daughter, clearly trying to chat her up; you knew the type. Perhaps your grip was a little too tight, but you did not care, as you saw you got your point across when you saw that look of fear in his eyes as he saw you.

“I don’t think we’ve met, I’m the Huntress.” You forced the words out just as you forced a smile on your face. “Now I know all my little girl’s friends, and since you are not one of her friends, let’s back up and give a girl her personal space, yes?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good boy.”

Taglist: @seleneprince

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tomkaulitzssgirl · 29 days ago

Note

Hey girll!! Hope you doing well!! I was wondering could I ask for a Tom x reader 2008/9 where they’re IN a relationship? I really wanna see what you’ll do with this🥰😭 YOU can choose the rest, if shes part of the band or a childhood friend or an artist herself IDKK😭 THANKS for considering!!! LOVE YOUR WRITINGS

TOM KAULITZ AS A BOYFRIEND

it was one of those after parties — loud, crowded, smoky — buzzing with energy and music that never quite let you catch your breath. you had been dragged there by a friend, mostly to get out of the house, maybe meet new people. you didn’t expect much.

tom kaulitz was there too. he wasn’t the headline of the night yet, but the way he moved through the room, with that calm, almost effortless confidence, made it impossible not to notice him.

he caught your eye across the room, just for a second — a quick glance, like he was checking you out without being obvious about it. then he smiled. not a cheesy smile, but one that made your stomach flip.

you rolled your eyes, pretending not to care, but the moment stayed with you.

later, you found yourself near the bar, trying to order a drink while the noise around you roared. tom was there too, leaning casually against the counter, watching you with a faint grin.

“you look like you don’t belong here.” he said, voice low and smooth.

you raised an eyebrow. “and you do?”

“i’m the guy everyone’s pretending to ignore.” he joked, flashing a crooked smile.

you laughed, the tension breaking a little. “good to know.”

he held out his hand. “i’m tom.”

“y/n.” you said, shaking it.

he pulled you away from the bar toward a quieter corner, where you could actually hear yourselves think.

“so,” he said, “what brings you to this circus?”

“my friend,” you shrugged, “she’s a little more social than me.”

he nodded, eyes flicking around the room. “i get that. i prefer the back rooms and quiet spots.”

you noticed how easy it was to talk to him, how his smile softened when he looked at you.

“you’re not like the others here.” you said, meaning it.

“and you’re not like anyone i’ve met tonight.” he said, stepping a little closer.

you felt your heart speed up. he leaned down, voice dropping. “can i take you somewhere quieter? away from the noise?”

you hesitated — but something about him made you say yes.

he led you outside, where the music was a dull thrum and the air smelled like fresh night and city streets.

you talked for hours — about music, dreams, the weirdness of sudden attention. he listened like you were the only person that mattered.

before he left, tom tucked a small note into your hand. “call me.” it said. underneath, a number.

you smiled, suddenly hoping you would.

⸻

that night was the start.

tom kept texting, calling, showing up in unexpected places.

he was patient, confident, never too pushy.

he wooed you with quiet moments — late night walks, small jokes only you got, that crooked smile whenever you made him laugh.

you didn’t know it then, but he was already falling.

and so were you.

——

it started slowly, like most things with tom.

he never rushed, never forced. he played it cool — let the nights stretch long, let the teasing blur into something softer, let his hand stay in yours a little longer each time.

but you had noticed a change in him.

he called more. showed up just to “hang,” even when he had nothing to say. he’d drive across the city just to sit next to you on a couch and play half a movie before talking through the rest. he wasn’t trying anymore — he was just there.

and you’d started falling, hard.

one night, after a quiet dinner at your place — takeout, nothing special — he stayed behind while your friends left early. you were both stretched out on your bed, side by side, staring at the ceiling in that kind of silence that only felt heavy when something was almost said.

he kept fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. his fingers brushed yours every few seconds, like he was thinking too much.

“you good?” you asked, glancing over.

“yeah.” he said. then paused. “no.”

you raised an eyebrow.

he turned his head toward you. “i’ve been thinking.”

“dangerous.” you teased.

he smirked — but didn’t laugh like usual. “what if i don’t want to think anymore? what if i just… say it.”

“say what?”

“that i like you,” he said, suddenly quiet, “that i don’t want to keep acting like this is just… casual. because it’s not. at least not for me.”

your heart skipped. “tom…”

“i know i’m not exactly the ‘boyfriend’ type,” he added, eyes flicking away, “but i want to be. for you.”

the room went still.

he kept going, voice softer now. “i don’t wanna keep wondering if someone else’s gonna get to call you theirs. i don’t wanna keep pretending i’m okay just being the guy you hang out with at night. i want to be the guy you wake up thinking about.”

you looked at him, and he looked scared, just a little.

like he wasn’t sure what you’d say.

you reached for his hand.

“okay.” you whispered.

he blinked. “okay?”

you smiled. “okay… you can be my boyfriend.”

his smile broke slowly, like he didn’t quite believe it at first — like he had waited weeks to hear you say that one word.

“good.” he said, voice low.

then he leaned in, pressed his lips to yours — not rushed, not like every other kiss he’d given you before.

this one was careful. like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. like you were his now, and he didn’t have to pretend anymore.

he wasn’t the typical boyfriend.

tom didn’t do overly grand romantic gestures. not really. but he showed up in his own way — cool, lowkey, but always present.

he’d take you on night drives when things got too loud. no destination. just music turned up, windows cracked, his hand resting lazily on your thigh while he lit a cigarette and smirked at you like you were the best thing he ever saw.

he hated fancy dinners. dates were usually late-night corner store runs, movie marathons on the floor with takeout containers, or stopping at a random food truck after a show. it wasn’t about what you did — it was just about being with you.

and when you’d roll your eyes and say, “this isn’t a real date,” he’d lean in, cocky grin tugging at his lip ring, and say, “you’re here, i’m here — looks pretty real to me.”

he fought with you sometimes.

never yelling. never cruel. but tom had pride, and so did you.

sometimes, he pulled away when things got too intense. he’d go quiet, stubborn, leave for a walk without saying much. it hurt. but it was never forever.

he always came back.

with tired eyes and a quiet apology. or a forehead kiss. or a new hoodie in his hands like a peace offering.

he didn’t say sorry easily — but when he did, he meant it. and when he didn’t, he showed it.

one time, after a fight about him missing your call for hours, he showed up at your door at 2am, half-asleep, holding your favorite snack and a small note folded in his hand.

“i’m not good at this, but i’m better with you. don’t go.”

he showed love in the smallest ways.

he never really said “i love you” until much later. but he did things like: remembering how you took your tea without asking, pulling you in by the belt loop and resting his head in the crook of your neck after long days, letting you paint his nails just because it made you smile, stealing your chapstick just so he had an excuse to kiss you after, wearing your scrunchie around his wrist during interviews and pretending it was no big deal.

the first time he said “i love you”, he didn’t plan it. of course he didn’t. that wasn’t his style.

you were in his hotel room, legs tangled in white sheets, some dumb tv show playing in the background. he was playing with the ends of your hair, distracted, half-listening as you talked about something that happened earlier — laughing about it, casual.

and then, suddenly, he went quiet.

you glanced over. “what?”

he blinked like he hadn’t realized he’d been staring. then he shrugged. “nothing.”

but something had shifted. his hand moved to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin so softly it gave you goosebumps. his eyes held yours for just a second too long.

then, out of nowhere, he whispered it.

“i love you.”

and it hung there. just like that. raw. no teasing. no grin.

you didn’t speak right away. you didn’t even breathe.

he looked scared. genuinely scared.

“you don’t have to say it back,” he mumbled, eyes dropping, “i just… i needed you to know.”

you reached for his face with both hands, pulled him in close, forehead to forehead.

“i love you too, tom.”

he exhaled— like the air had been stuck in his lungs for weeks. “fuck, you scared me.” he laughed and then he kissed you after that — soft, slow, hands shaking just a little.

the first time you cried in front of him was so bad. you weren’t the type to cry easily. you kept your walls up — tom loved to poke at them, but he never really broke them. until that one night.

something had happened back home. a call. bad news. your voice cracked when you tried to explain, and then it all just came out — messy and quiet and heavy.

tom had never seen you like that.

at first, he froze. he didn’t say anything. just stared at you with wide, helpless eyes. then, like instinct, he sat beside you and pulled you into his arms without a word.

he felt like he was powerless, genuinely so upset. he hates seeing you like that, you were his world and you were hurting, so he was hurting with you.

he didn’t try to fix it. didn’t tell you to stop. he just let you fall apart against his chest, his hand sliding up and down your back, lips pressed to your temple.

“it’s okay,” he whispered, “you don’t have to be okay right now.”

he held you until you couldn’t cry anymore. then he tucked you into bed, played with your fingers until you fell asleep, and stayed up just to make sure you didn’t wake up alone.

he also still teased you. still annoyed you on purpose. still stole the covers and acted like he was god’s gift to music. but the way he loved you deepened.

he’d watch you when you weren’t looking. his eyes soft. almost reverent.

he’d randomly blurt things like “you’re my favorite person” while brushing his teeth or tying his shoes. like it slipped out, but it was always true.

he’d send you photos from the tour — not the cool, filtered ones. just blurry shots of things that reminded him of you. a neon sign. a weird cat. a half-eaten sandwich.

“this looks like u idk why.”

he became your safe place, without ever saying it out loud.

he’d make you playlists but never send them — you’d just hear them playing when you got in the car, the songs saying everything he wouldn’t.

when he was away, he missed you more than he let on. he acted chill on the phone. playful. cocky.

“don’t miss me too much.” he’d tease.

but you’d hear the tired in his voice. the long pauses before hanging up. the way he always asked what you were doing right now, like he needed to picture it.

sometimes you’d wake up to a voicemail from him — slurred, sleepy, full of background noise and murmured “wish you were here, babe.”

and when he came back, he always had something for you. not big things — just little, specific pieces of the world he’d passed through. a guitar pick. a bracelet from a street vendor. a lighter from a gas station.

“reminded me of you.”

he didn’t let the world touch what you had, he was flirty in public, sure. charming. untouchable. but with you, behind closed doors, he softened.

he laid his head in your lap when he was tired. kissed your shoulder without a word. told you things he never said out loud — about how much pressure he felt, how scared he was of losing himself in all of it.

he’d fall asleep wrapped around you like you were the only thing anchoring him to earth. and when he stirred, half-awake, he’d mumble things like “you’re still here, right?”

you always were.

he wasn’t perfect. but he was yours and once he let you in, really let you in — he never stopped choosing you.

not once.

one time, you were feeling sick and stuck at home. tom showed up with your favorite snacks and a ridiculous horror movie he said was “so bad it’s good.” he didn’t say much, just plopped down on the couch next to you, draped his jacket over your legs, and let you lean against him. he pretended to be bored, but when you finally dozed off, he stayed awake, watching over you like a silent guardian.

he never rushed you, always patient when you needed space. but if he saw you talking to another guy — even just a friend — his jaw would tighten for a second. he’d act chill about it later, joking around, but you knew he noticed everything. he was protective, in the quietest way possible.

on lazy sunday mornings, tom liked to make breakfast, terrible pancakes that looked more like blobs, but he laughed every time you ate them like a champ. he let you take the last piece, even if he was starving, and pulled you close after, wrapping you in his arms as you both made plans no one else knew about.

he also loved doing everything with you. like when he got his new car. the first day he picked you up in it, he grinned that cocky grin you loved, slipping into the driver’s seat like it was made for him — and it kind of was.

“buckle up.” he said, voice low and teasing, as he tossed you the keys before you even got in.

“i’m takin’ you on a ride you’ll never forget.”

he blasted music — probably some rock or hip-hop — windows down, wind whipping through his messy hair as he pulled you close on the passenger seat.

he’d take you everywhere:

to the coast, where you’d both lean out the windows, the sea spray mixing with your laughter;

to late-night diners, greasy fries and milkshakes shared between his fingers;

to quiet spots only he knew, where you could watch the stars and feel like you had the whole world just to yourselves.

tom loved the feeling of you beside him — like it made every drive, every moment, better. he’d steal glances at you from the rearview mirror, fingers twitching to reach over and squeeze your hand.

sometimes, when you were driving, he’d joke, “don’t wreck my baby.” but you could see how proud he was whenever you took the wheel.

and when it was just the two of you, the car was more than a machine. it was a little bubble of your own — filled with quiet talks, stolen kisses, and that reckless kind of freedom only the two of you shared.

for your anniversary, he pretended he forgot at first. like… you brought it up casually and he went:

“wait… today?” with that smug little eyebrow raise and a fake confused look on his face.

you rolled your eyes like, “you’re so annoying.”

but meanwhile? he had everything planned for weeks. but since he wasn’t into cheesy romantic gestures — there were no rose petals and champagne at a restaurant.

he took you somewhere that means something — the place where you first hung out after that party.

he wanted it to feel like yours. he gave you a gift that looked super simple on the outside — a hoodie. his hoodie.

but the meaning behind it? devastating. it was the hoodie he wore the night he first kissed you, and now it had something stitched on the inside:

“still yours.”

plus, he gave you a guitar pick engraved with the date of your anniversary — the exact one he played with during tour when he missed you most.

he didn’t make a big speech. he just went quiet for a second and looked at you in that way he only ever does when it was real. then he muttered: “don’t know how the fuck i got lucky with you, but i’m not letting go.”

and you knew — that was his version of i love you more than anything.

tom would also definitely notice how close you and bill are — the easy laughs, the way you finish each other’s sentences, the little inside jokes only you two share. at first, he might feel a flicker of jealousy — nothing dramatic, but that quiet kind that sneaks up when he’s not looking.

he’d tease you about it, half-joking, “so, bill’s your favorite, huh? gotta say, i’m a little offended.” but the way he said it? with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

because tom loved that — bill was family. and if tom was important to you, that means bill had to be important too.

the bond he shared with bill was unmatched. so having you and bill be close? that was a win in his book. it made him feel like you belong even more in his world.

but he also would want to be included, not left out. so sometimes, he’d invite himself into your conversations or plans with bill, making sure you know he’s there, but without trying to take over.

infact, he’d occasionally joke about being the “third wheel” when you hung out with bill, but it was all in good fun. secretly, he loved seeing you laugh with his brother, hearing those inside jokes, watching how natural it is.

and when bill teased him about you two? tom would just shake his head, smirk while saying: “yeah, yeah. whatever. just don’t forget who she’s with.”

but you knew there was no real jealousy — only pride.

and when it counted, tom would be the one standing up for you both, protective and proud, knowing that the bond you share with bill isn’t a threat — it’s just another piece of the puzzle that makes your world whole.

your first time together was perfect. it didn’t start out like the moment.

no candlelight. no dramatic lead-up.

you were just lying on his bed, half under the covers, wearing his shirt, your legs tangled up with his. music low in the background — glory box from portishead playing.

he had his hand under your shirt, just resting there on your waist. not trying anything. just holding you.

you were talking about something dumb — a show you’d watched, someone you saw earlier that day — and then the room went still.

you looked up and caught him staring. his thumb gently tracing your skin, his mouth slightly parted like he wanted to say something but didn’t want to ruin the quiet.

“what?” you whispered.

he didn’t answer right away. just looked at you for a long time, like he was really seeing you.

“nothing,” he said, voice rough, “you’re just… fuck.”

your heart flipped.

he leaned in slowly — kissed you like he had all the time in the world. like he already knew what you tasted like but wanted to relearn it anyway. he moved carefully, hand sliding up to your jaw, tilting your head just the way he liked it.

you pulled him closer.

and that was it.

it shifted. slowly. naturally. like your bodies had already been waiting for this and now they were just catching up.

he didn’t rush. didn’t tear your clothes off like he had something to prove.

he undressed you like he meant to — like it mattered.

his fingers brushed your thighs like they were delicate, like they weren’t the same ones wrapped around his waist two minutes later.

he kissed your chest, your stomach, the inside of your wrist — all before he even touched you properly.

he whispered your name when he finally moved against you — like he needed to remind himself this was real.

you felt it in your chest. in your spine. in your whole damn soul.

“you okay?” he asked, halfway through — voice barely there, lips brushing your ear.

you nodded, breath shaky.

but he waited. looked you in the eye. “tell me.”

“yes,” you whispered, “yes, i want you.”

he kissed you then. deeper. slower. hand on your cheek like he was holding you in place, like this was the most fragile moment he’d ever been in.

when he finally moved closer to you, it’s slow, careful, never rushed. you feel the warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart against yours. he paused for a moment, eyes searching yours, making sure you’re with him — fully, completely.

then, the first part of him entered you, a slow, tentative stretch. it’s intimate, grounding, a perfect mix of tension and release. you bit your lip, breath shaky but steady, hands clutching his shoulders as he moves with such gentle precision.

he pulled back just a little, looking at you — eyes dark, filled with something fierce and tender all at once.

“you good?” he murmured.

you whispered yes, and he began again, this time with a slow, sure rhythm, every movement measured and full of care. his hips pressed close, warmth spreading between you both, slow and steady.

there was no hurry. just the sound of your breaths mingling, the soft creak of sheets, the way his fingers lace through yours.

his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, as he leaned down to claim your mouth in a fierce, hungry kiss. his lips were demanding, teeth grazing yours, tongues tangling as you both lose yourself in the rush.

soft moans escaped you both, breath mingling, the air thick with heat and want. every touch, every move sends shivers racing down your spine. your hands clutched at his shoulders, pulling him deeper, desperate to feel more.

he moved faster then, his hips rolling with a powerful grace, and you arched into him, lost in the swell of pleasure building between you.

his name fell from your lips over and over, and you heard the catch in his own breath — a ragged, raw sound that sent something wild through your chest.

then everything tightened — the world narrows to the two of you, moving together, gasping and crying out, riding the wave until you both collapsed into each other, hearts pounding, skin slick with sweat.

he held you close, forehead resting against yours, voice low and shaky as he murmured, “fuck… you’re mine.”

and you knew, without a doubt, you were his.

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diamonddaze01 · 3 months ago

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WINGS AGAINST THE WIND

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader| WC: 6.7K GENRE: hurt-comfort | non-linear storytelling | based on boys by alfie jukes WARNINGS: alcohol consumption A/N: for keopihaus’s spring event! i picked pantalone | had this brain worm at work and this is the end result. not entirely happy with it, but we ball. happy to finally be able to write for svt again | hochi’s debut on the blog! welcome sweet boy RECOMMENDED LISTENING: boys, alfie jukes | motion sickness, phoebe bridgers | sweet disposition, the temper trap | summertime sadness, lana del ray | cherry, harry styles | out of my league, fitz and the tantrums | lovers' carvings, bibio | i wanna be your girlfriend, girl in red

SUMMARY: The tide pulls in. The stars burn on. Neither of you move.

JUNE 2019

The first time you see Soonyoung that summer, he’s chasing seagulls down the shore, barefoot and grinning, arms spread wide like he thinks he can fly.

The ocean wind tousles his hair, strands of it sticking to his forehead, but he doesn’t stop running. The birds scatter around him in startled flurries, wings beating against the sky in protest, but Soonyoung only laughs—a sound carried away by the tide, swallowed up by the crash of the waves.

You watch from the porch of your family’s beach house, hands curled around a cold glass of lemonade, condensation damp against your palm. The sun hangs low, turning the sky soft at the edges, streaks of rose bleeding into gold. The scent of salt lingers in the air, familiar and thick.

It’s always like this with him. Soonyoung, with his sunburnt nose and scabbed knees, the boy who never walked when he could run, never whispered when he could laugh. Soonyoung, who arrives with the summer and stays until it ends, as much a part of this town as the sea-glass that washes up on the shore, as the rusting Ferris wheel down by the boardwalk.

And just like that, it begins again.

JUNE 2002

You are six, and the world is too big.

The ocean roars, an endless, hungry thing, swallowing the shore in foamy white before retreating like it changed its mind. The sky stretches too wide above you, and the sun is too bright, pressing hot fingers against your skin. Even the voices—grown-ups talking, seagulls screaming—are too loud. So you hide, small hands curling into the fabric of your mother’s dress, peeking out at the unfamiliar boy in front of you.

He is loud. He is all knees and elbows and wild energy, his hair sticking up like he’s been running into the wind for hours. His shirt is untucked, one sneaker untied, a smear of something suspiciously orange at the corner of his mouth. He stands with his weight on the balls of his feet, like he might take off at any second.

And then—he grins.

"TAG!"

He smacks a hand against your arm. Then he spins on his heel and bolts, kicking up sand as he tears toward the water, his laughter trailing behind him like a kite in the breeze.

Your feet stay rooted. Your heart pounds. You glance up at your mother, searching her face for an answer, but she only nudges you forward, voice warm with amusement.

"Go on, sweetheart," she murmurs. "He’s waiting for you."

You look back at the boy—Soonyoung, she had said his name was. He is already halfway to the shoreline, but he pauses, turning back to you. His hands cup around his mouth as he shouts, "Come on! You’re it!"

Your fingers twitch. Your toes curl in the sand. And then, something in you—some quiet, cautious thing—loosens just enough.

You take one step. Then another.

And then you run.

SEPTEMBER 2008

You are twelve, and summer is ending. The world has narrowed.

Once, it had felt endless, stretching beyond the dunes and the boardwalk and the chipped-paint fences of this beach town. But now, it feels smaller, shrinking to the space between sun-warmed pavement and the steady crash of the tide, to the places where Soonyoung goes and where you follow.

You don’t remember when you started falling in love with him. Maybe it was when he climbed onto the roof of your house just to prove he could, his grin bright as the moon above, his breathless told you so floating down like a dare. He had scaled the old oak tree by your window with the reckless confidence of a boy who had never believed in falling, fingers gripping the rough bark, feet scraping against the gutter as he pulled himself up.

Now, he sits there, legs swinging over the edge, toes brushing against the night air like he could dip them into the stars if he tried hard enough. His hair is mussed from the climb, sticking out at odd angles, and his t-shirt is streaked with dirt where he must’ve wiped his hands. But his eyes—his eyes shine with something wild, something boundless.

"You coming up or what?" he calls down, voice laced with laughter.

You hesitate. Your mother would kill you if she knew, but Soonyoung is already scooting over, patting the space beside him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. And maybe, for him, it is.

You climb. It’s clumsy, slow-going, your fingers fumbling against rough bark, but when you reach the top, Soonyoung is waiting, grinning like he knew you’d make it all along.

The roof is warm beneath your palms, still holding the heat of the day. The town spreads below you in quiet patches of light—porch lamps glowing amber, the boardwalk flickering in the distance. The ocean is a dark, endless thing, breathing against the shore. And above, the sky stretches wide, a mess of constellations neither of you can name.

"You ever wonder what it’s like to be a bird?" Soonyoung asks suddenly, voice softer now.

You turn your head, catching the way the moonlight skims the curve of his cheek. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs, tilting his face toward the stars. "Just—flying wherever you want. Never having to stay in one place."

You frown, pulling your knees to your chest. "But don’t birds always come back home?"

Soonyoung is quiet for a long moment, his fingers drumming against the shingles. "Maybe." Then, turning to you, eyes crinkled at the edges, "But I think I’d want to see everything first."

Something flutters in your chest, strange and new. You don’t know what it is yet.

So you don’t say anything, just tip your head back and watch the sky, the stars too many to count, the night stretching wide and open before you. And beside you, Soonyoung hums under his breath, legs still swinging, like he’s testing the air—like he’s already getting ready to take off.

JULY 2019

The waves lap gently against the wooden beams, the water below shifting with the tide, black with hints of silver where the moonlight kisses it. A faint breeze rolls in from the horizon, cool against your sun-warmed skin, and beside you, Soonyoung hums some half-forgotten song under his breath, the tune swallowed by the wind before it can reach your ears.

He’s always humming, always moving—tapping his fingers against the railing, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Even now, leaning over the edge of the pier, he rocks onto his toes like he’s daring himself to fall forward, like he trusts the ocean to catch him. You don’t know if it ever occurs to him that it wouldn’t.

"Bet I could jump," he says suddenly, tilting his head toward you, eyes glinting in the dim light. He grins, teeth flashing white. "Bet I could survive."

You roll your eyes, but your heart stutters anyway. "Bet you could break your leg."

Soonyoung laughs, pushing off the railing to stand upright. He stretches his arms above his head, his t-shirt riding up slightly, exposing the strip of tanned skin just above his waistband. "C’mon," he says, nudging your shoulder with his. "Where’s your sense of adventure?"

You huff, turning your gaze back to the water. Somewhere in the distance, a boat bobs along the horizon, its light a tiny pinprick against the vast dark.

It’s not that you don’t have a sense of adventure—it’s just that Soonyoung’s is always bigger, always wilder, always burning too bright for you to hold in your hands without it slipping through your fingers like embers.

"You don’t always have to prove something, you know," you murmur, watching as a gull drifts lazily above the water, its wings barely moving, carried by the wind.

"I’m not proving anything," Soonyoung says, voice softer now. He nudges you again, more gently this time. "I just like knowing I could."

You don’t answer right away. The breeze carries the scent of salt and something sweet—funnel cakes, maybe, or the last wisps of cotton candy from a boardwalk stand closing up for the night. The sounds of the carnival are distant now, nothing but an echo of laughter and carousel music winding down for the evening.

Soonyoung swings an arm over your shoulders suddenly, tugging you into his warmth. "Hey," he says, voice teasing, but you hear the quiet sincerity beneath it. "If I ever do something stupid, you’d catch me, right?"

You exhale a small laugh, shaking your head, but you don’t pull away. "Yeah," you say. "I’d catch you."

Soonyoung grins, satisfied, and you stand there together, the waves below whispering secrets you’ll never quite understand.

AUGUST 2011

You are fifteen, and the ocean is endless.

It stretches before you, vast and rippling, the sky above painted in the soft pastels of late afternoon. The waves are restless today, tumbling toward the shore in a frothy rush, stealing the sand from beneath your feet as they recede. You should have been more careful. You should have braced yourself better. But Soonyoung was beside you, and it’s always easier to forget things when he’s there.

The wave catches you off guard—one moment, you’re standing ankle-deep in the water, and the next, the current surges forward, swallowing your knees, your waist, knocking you off balance. The world tilts, salt filling your mouth as you go under, the water curling around you, flipping you end over end until you don’t know which way is up.

And then—hands.

Soonyoung's grip is firm, fingers wrapping around your wrist, tugging you up, up, up until you’re breaking the surface, gasping as the air rushes back into your lungs. He’s laughing, because of course he is, his eyes crinkled at the corners, his hair dripping saltwater down his cheeks.

“Damn,” he breathes, grinning wide, “I thought the ocean was about to steal you.”

You’re breathless, stunned—less from the tumble, more from the way his hand is still wrapped around yours, warm and solid, grounding you. Your heartbeat is a staccato rhythm against your ribs, matching the waves that crash around your legs.

“You okay?” Soonyoung asks, squeezing your fingers lightly, like he’s making sure you’re real, like you haven’t been carried off with the tide.

You nod, but you don’t move. You don’t let go.

And neither does he.

A gull wheels overhead, crying out against the wind, and the moment stretches long and golden, suspended between you like something fragile. His thumb brushes against your knuckles absently, as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and you think, suddenly, that you’ll remember this forever—the salt on your lips, the sun-drenched glow of his skin, the way his laughter still lingers in the space between you.

The tide rolls in again, swirling around your calves, and finally, reluctantly, Soonyoung pulls away, raking a hand through his wet hair. “Come on,” he says, stepping backward toward the shore, “before the waves drag you under for real.”

You follow, but you swear you can still feel the ghost of his touch, the warmth of his palm against yours, even as the ocean tries to wash it away.

SEPTEMBER 2012

You are sixteen and have realized summer doesn’t feel the same when Soonyoung’s not there.

The days stretch long and golden, but they feel hollow, like an echo of something that once was. The ocean still hums against the shore, the seagulls still wheel lazily overhead, crying out into the heavy afternoon air, but everything feels off-kilter, like a song played in the wrong key.

You walk the boardwalk alone. The wooden planks creak beneath your feet, weathered and warm from the sun, but they don’t bounce with Soonyoung’s unrelenting energy, don’t tremble beneath his eager footsteps as he drags you from one end to the other, chattering about nothing and everything.

He’s not here.

He’s in a city miles away, where the air smells of pavement and ambition, where he spends his days in mirrored studios lined with scuffed wooden floors, his body moving through the shapes of something greater, something bigger than this sleepy town could ever offer. You know this is what he wants—have always known that Soonyoung was meant to move, to run, to fly.

And yet.

You sit on the pier at sunset, legs dangling over the edge, watching the waves catch the last light of the day. The seagulls drift overhead, weightless and free, carried by the wind like it loves them. You wonder if Soonyoung ever stops to watch them in the city, if he looks up from the rhythm of his own body long enough to remember the way the ocean breathes, the way summer feels here, with you.

You press your palms against the wooden planks, grounding yourself in the familiar, in the place that has always felt like home. But without Soonyoung’s laughter ringing through the streets, without his sunburnt hands pulling you forward, it feels smaller somehow.

The wind shifts, carrying the sound of distant music from the boardwalk, the scent of salt and spun sugar. You close your eyes and pretend, just for a moment, that if you turn your head, Soonyoung will be there beside you—grinning, wind-tousled, eyes alight with something that makes everything feel alive.

But when you open them, it’s just you.

And summer has never felt so quiet.

AUGUST 2019

The days stretch long and golden, collapsing into nights laced with salt and the hum of cicadas. The ocean is a constant whisper in the background, ebbing and flowing like breath, like the slow pull of time neither of you try to fight.

Soonyoung drives with one hand on the wheel, the other draped lazily over the window frame, fingers trailing through the wind as if he’s conducting an invisible orchestra. The air is thick with heat, the scent of sunscreen and sun-warmed leather filling the car. The radio crackles, the same summer songs playing on an endless loop, and Soonyoung sings along—offbeat, off-key, always a lyric behind. You don’t correct him. You just listen, watching the way the wind tosses his hair, the way the sun paints his skin in soft gold.

Some nights, when the sky is wide and full, he takes you to the dunes. He doesn’t ask, just tugs you by the wrist, his grip warm and insistent, leading you past the weathered wooden fences, past the sea grass swaying in the breeze. The sand is cool beneath your bare feet, grains slipping between your toes as you climb higher, until the town is just a scatter of distant lights behind you. The ocean stretches vast and inky beyond the horizon, the waves gleaming silver under the moon.

Soonyoung flops onto his back with a sigh, arms sprawled like he’s trying to hold onto the whole sky. “Look,” he says, pointing upward, “Cassiopeia.”

You follow his gaze, but all you see are stars—scattered and bright, endless pinpricks of light. “That’s not Cassiopeia,” you say, wrapping your arms around your knees.

“Sure it is,” he argues, tracing a messy W in the air. “And that’s Orion, and that’s the Little Dipper—”

"You’re making them up," you accuse, raising an eyebrow.

He grins, rolling onto his side to face you. “Maybe. But who’s gonna prove me wrong?”

You roll your eyes, but you lie down beside him anyway. The sand still holds the heat of the day, warm against your spine, grounding you. Above, a flock of birds shifts in the sky, their silhouettes carving soft, fluid patterns into the dark.

Soonyoung watches them too, something quiet settling over him. “Do you think they know where they’re going?” he murmurs, voice barely above the hush of the waves.

You exhale, watching your breath dissolve into the night. “I think they just go.”

For a moment, there is only the sound of the ocean, of the wind moving through the dunes. Then, Soonyoung turns to you, his gaze steady, unreadable. The wind ruffles his hair, brushes softly against your skin.

“Yeah,” he says at last, voice low. “Yeah, I think so too.”

The tide pulls in. The stars burn on. Neither of you move.

AUGUST 2013

You are seventeen, and the summer tastes like salt and firewood smoke.

The nights blur together, one bleeding into the next, stitched together with sand sticking to sun-warmed skin and the hum of cicadas in the dunes. The air is thick with the scent of the ocean, of burning driftwood, of marshmallows turned molten over an open flame. Somewhere down the shore, music drifts from a crackling speaker, the melody warped by the wind, and Soonyoung—always Soonyoung—is beside you, too loud, too restless.

Long days melt into long nights. You spend the afternoons sprawled on the sand, the sky above a vast and endless blue, the kind of blue that makes you believe in forever. The kind of blue that makes you think forever might look like this—Soonyoung’s laughter bright and uncontained, his body twisting away from the incoming tide, only for him to launch himself straight back into it, fearless, unrelenting.

At night, the two of you wander the boardwalk like ghosts, dodging pools of neon light, walking the railings with your arms outstretched, breathless, unsteady, pretending the ocean below is nothing but air. Soonyoung, always first to jump, teeters on the edge like he’s trying to touch the sky, his fingers splayed wide, his laugh caught in the wind, pulling you in with him. The world is full of motion, but here, together, you feel like you’re part of something still, something that lingers in the spaces between his words and the sounds of the ocean.

A mockingbird calls from a distance, its song old and familiar, a note of something that’s already slipping away. You know it’s a song that used to belong to summers long past—before the world started demanding things of you, before the noise of growing up began to drown out the simple things. Before Soonyoung’s laughter, wild and free, was something you couldn’t hear without a tinge of fear.

You both sit on the railing, the wood warm beneath you, your legs dangling into the night air, too far from the ground but not enough to feel unsafe. The ocean is a dark mass below you, a black expanse of water that pulls at your feet as though calling you in. You breathe in the salt, the smoke, the unspoken understanding that summer is already slipping away.

Soonyoung is a constant, a whirlwind, a never-ending movement. He is arms waving, words tumbling, laughter spilling over like waves crashing against the shore. And yet, here, now, in this in-between moment—his gaze steady, his body still except for the absentminded fidget of his fingers against his thigh—he doesn’t feel like motion at all. It’s as if even Soonyoung is holding his breath, waiting for something, maybe for the summer to tell you both what comes next.

And as the ocean sings beneath you and the stars hang heavy above, you know for certain, with a clarity that hits you like the warm evening breeze, that you love him. It’s not a revelation. It’s just the way the world feels right when he’s here. You realize you’ve always known, that the way your heart flips every time he’s near isn’t just the rush of summer or the thrill of adventure. No, it’s something deeper, something more permanent.

You don’t say it. You don’t need to. The ocean is enough, the wind is enough, and Soonyoung, sitting so close you can feel the heat of his skin even through the night air, is enough.

“You ever think,” he asks, his voice quiet for once, the ocean’s roar filling the space between his words, “if birds feel trapped by the sky?”

It’s a question you don’t know how to answer, but you don’t need to. You both sit there, staring out into the distance, the waves crashing like a quiet promise. A mockingbird whistles in the distance, and for a moment, the world stops moving. It’s just the sound of the ocean, of the night stretching long and endless, and Soonyoung, who has always been everything, sitting quietly beside you, as still as the sky.

APRIL 2014

You are almost eighteen, and Soonyoung calls you at midnight like he has forever.

The phone buzzes in your hand, sharp in the quiet darkness of your room, a signal of something both familiar and foreign. His name lights up the screen, and for a second, you're back to summers where the nights felt endless, where time seemed to bend around the two of you. You press the phone to your ear, and even before he speaks, his voice settles into you like the weight of an old song, one you’ve memorized in the corners of your heart.

“I made my decision,” he says, words spilling fast, but there’s something different in them tonight. They feel heavier. Like he's holding something back, or maybe you are. The sound of his breath, quick and charged, vibrates through the line.

“What decision?” You try to keep the steadiness in your voice, but there's a flutter, a pulse in your chest you can’t ignore.

“About college,” he says, and the words feel like a blow you didn’t see coming. “I got in. I’m going across the country. I—I’m going to dance.”

And the world feels too small for a moment, like the walls of your room are suddenly pressing in on you. Across the country. It might as well be across the world. His dream is taking him somewhere far away, somewhere you can’t follow.

There’s a quiet stretch of silence on the other end, the kind that fills the space with too many things unsaid. Your fingers tighten around the phone, the cool surface grounding you, but not enough. Not enough to stop the sudden ache that settles into your bones.

You want to say something. Something that makes this okay, something that makes it feel less like the earth is shifting beneath your feet. But you don’t. Because there’s nothing to say to make it okay.

“Soonyoung,” you whisper, barely enough to hear, but he catches it, and his laugh is soft, uncertain.

“I know,” he says. “I know it’s far. But it’s what I want.”

You hear him breathing, and you know this is it. The moment when things start to change. Not a slow shift, but a sharp one. The way the seasons will turn, the way you’ll look back and realize the summer you thought would last forever is slipping through your fingers.

“I might not be there this summer,” he says after a beat, his voice quieter now. “The program’s got pre-season stuff... It’s in June, right? I won’t be here for any of it. I—” His voice falters, and for the first time, you hear the uncertainty in it, the crack where his words don’t fit quite right.

And it’s like someone took the last bit of air out of the room. You both know what it means, even if it isn’t said directly. This summer—this one that’s always been the same—is about to slip into something unrecognizable, into something new.

“Okay,” you finally say, your voice low. And the weight of that word feels like too much to carry. Too much for one night, too much for one phone call.

You know he’s still there, still waiting for you to say more, but there’s nothing left to say. Soonyoung’s dream is his own now, and you’re left standing on the edge of something, unsure how far you’re willing to fall.

“Happy birthday,” he says softly, as if it’s a way to close the space between you. But the distance feels like it’s already there, stretching out farther than the ocean between you.

JULY 2014

You are eighteen, and June slips away in the space between breaths.

Each day blends into the next like the tides rolling in and out, each wave a soft reminder of everything you’re losing.

The air is warm with the promise of summer, thick with the scent of salt and the distant whisper of fireworks. The city hums with the pulse of late-night life, but the streets outside your window feel empty now, quieter than they should be, as if the world is holding its breath, waiting for something.

Anything.

Then, there’s a knock at your door. It’s sharp, unexpected, and when you open it, Soonyoung is standing there, his chest heaving with shallow breaths, his hair damp from the cool night air. His eyes, wide and alive with something unspoken, lock onto yours and without a second thought, he grabs your hand and pulls you out into the warmth of the night.

“Come on,” he says, his voice breathless, but urgent, like he’s chasing something, like he’s trying to outrun everything that’s coming. “Come with me.”

Before you can ask any questions, before you can make sense of the moment – there are a million questions in your head. What happened to pre-season? Why are you here? Are you here for me – he’s dragging you down the empty streets, past the shuttered shops and the quiet houses where people are already asleep. You can hear the soft tap of your shoes against the pavement, but it’s drowned out by the sound of his laughter, the wild, unrestrained joy of someone who doesn’t know—or doesn’t care—about the world waiting for them. His grip on your hand is firm, like he’s afraid you might slip away if he lets go.

The boardwalk is silent as you pass it, the lights above flickering like old memories, casting long shadows that stretch across the empty path. And then, finally, you reach the beach, the sand soft beneath your feet, the cool breeze of the ocean sweeping over your skin. The sound of the waves is constant, a steady rhythm that seems to match the beat of your racing heart. The moon hangs high above, bathing the shoreline in a silvery glow, casting everything in a dreamlike haze.

“Soonyoung,” you start, breathless from the run, but before you can finish, he pulls you into his arms, his hands finding their way to your waist, his body warm and solid against yours.

“Dance with me,” he says, the words more like a command than a request, and before you can respond, he’s moving you, spinning you in circles, no music but the sound of the waves crashing, no rhythm but the way your feet meet the earth, the way your heart thunders in your chest, in time with the crash of the waves.

You laugh, caught up in the madness of it all, in the feeling of the night, of him, of everything slipping away and yet feeling more alive than you’ve ever felt before. The stars above are a blur, a smattering of white across the black sky, and for a moment, it feels like you’re the only two people in the world, like this—this strange, reckless dance—might be all that matters.

“Where did you come from?” you ask between breaths, trying to catch your own as you stumble in the sand, laughing.

Soonyoung doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he tilts his head back toward the stars, his hair falling in messy strands across his forehead, the moonlight catching in his eyes, turning them silver. He looks like he belongs here, in this moment, with the world at his feet and the night surrounding him, as if nothing else has ever mattered but this dance, this night, the two of you.

“I don’t know,” he says softly, but the words hang in the air like they’re something sacred. “But I don’t ever want to leave.”

The wind picks up, ruffling your hair, pulling you closer into the dance, and you feel it then—the unspoken promise, the feeling that this moment is all there is, that the world can shift and change around you, but nothing will matter as long as you’re here, together, in the glow of the moon and the rhythm of the ocean, with the sound of your laughter echoing into the night.

For a second, just a second, you think it could last forever.

JUNE 2017

You are twenty-one, and you still love Soonyoung.

The dingy dive bar on the boardwalk smells like stale beer and regret, the kind of place you've always passed by, nose scrunched in distaste, never once thinking you'd step inside. But tonight, Soonyoung winks at you with that signature grin—daring, mischievous—and says, "We're twenty-one, let's have some fun!" as he drags you in.

The air inside feels thick, the dim lights casting shadows that stretch across the worn wooden floors. The smell of cheap liquor clings to everything, but for some reason, it’s comforting tonight, like the world is giving you a small, tight hug. You glance around, noting how it’s exactly what you expected—grungy and lived-in, with cracked bar stools and neon signs that buzz faintly, but there's something about it that feels like a secret you've been let in on.

And then there's Soonyoung, his grin lighting up the room like he's the only thing in it that matters. You realize, in the half-faded light, how much has changed. He’s older now, sharper. His shoulders are broader, and his hair falls messier, less like the careless perfection of youth and more like someone who’s been fighting to make a name for himself. But his laugh—his laugh still holds that same reckless joy, the kind that turns ordinary nights into something more, something you’ll remember for years.

The past few years have been a blur—his choreography intensives, your internships. Summers were fleeting, slipping through your fingers faster than you could catch them, leaving only the echoes of missed chances and unspoken words. But here, now, in this bar, with the stale air and the clink of bottles around you, time feels still. You hold on to everything he says, every word like it’s gold. You try to memorize the shape of his smile, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way he’s always looking at you like you’re something more than just a friend, even if neither of you ever says it aloud.

He nudges you, his fingers brushing yours as he hands you a drink, a little too full, a little too fast, but you don’t care. “To being twenty-one,” he says, and for a moment, you wonder if this is what it feels like to be young forever.

You sip your drink, the burn of alcohol mixing with the sweetness of something unspoken, and you can’t help but feel dizzy—not just from the booze, but from the way he’s looking at you, the way his presence fills the room in a way it never used to. And maybe he’s tipsy, and maybe you are too, but when he leans in—his face too close, his breath warm against your lips—and presses a sloppy kiss to your mouth, you don’t pull away. You don’t even think to.

His lips are soft against yours, a little too wet, but it’s familiar, in a way that’s almost too much. And when he pulls away, eyes still hazy with the remnants of alcohol, you find yourself smiling—grinning like an idiot—and somehow, you’re both still standing there, in this dingy bar, as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

The next morning, sunlight floods through the blinds, the world outside still too bright and too loud. Soonyoung doesn’t bring up the kiss. You don’t either. Instead, you nurse your hangovers with orange juice and your mothers’ chiding, a familiar kind of torture.

You pretend like it never happened. Like it didn’t mean anything. But both of you know it did.

You swallow another sip of juice, a little too bitter, a little too heavy. His eyes flicker to yours across the kitchen, and for a moment, it’s like everything that’s unsaid is spilling over. But then he just shrugs, grins like nothing ever changed, and asks, “You wanna hit the boardwalk later?”

You say yes, because there’s no reason not to.

Soonyoung never brings up the kiss.

SEPTEMBER 2019

The air is different now. The ocean feels colder when it reaches your toes, like it’s finally remembering the sharpness of autumn that’s waiting just beyond the horizon. The sky dims earlier, stretching the shadows long across the shore, as if the world is already preparing to move on from the endless days of summer. The light no longer spills like honey—it’s thin, fragile, slipping away in fragments, as though the sun is reluctant to leave.

One evening, Soonyoung drives you to the cliffs, to the highest point in town where everything feels a little more distant, a little more infinite. He doesn’t speak much on the drive, his hands lightly gripping the wheel, his eyes focused on the road, though his mind feels miles away. You don’t ask what’s on his mind, not yet.

When you reach the top, the wind greets you like a forgotten friend, strong enough to make you feel weightless. Soonyoung steps out first, slamming the car door behind him with a sharp thud that echoes against the rocks. He walks toward the edge, the same familiar sway to his movements, like he's always been here, like he’s always been this person—fearless, reckless, unafraid of the unknown. His arms stretch wide, the wind catching his shirt, lifting it like he might take flight.

His silhouette against the fading light is something you know by heart. You’ve seen it before—seen him standing at the edge of the world, the one constant in a summer full of changes, a quiet promise that nothing would ever really shift. But now, he seems smaller somehow, as if the weight of the night has already begun to settle on his shoulders, as if he’s already carrying something he can’t let go.

"Summer’s almost over," he says, his voice barely audible over the wind, but still, you hear it—clear and sharp like a bell tolling in the distance.

You nod. You both know what that means.

Summer has always meant everything, and now, it’s slipping away faster than either of you can grasp. Somewhere, in a place far beyond this summer, this town, these nights—life is waiting.

Soonyoung turns to you, his face still half-lit by the fading light, his eyes unreadable in a way they’ve never been before. The way he looks at you, like he’s searching for something he hasn’t quite found yet, makes the air feel heavier. You swallow, fingers curling tightly into the fabric of your sweater, the warmth of it barely enough to chase away the cold creeping in.

"You ever think about what comes next?"

You take a moment before answering, your heart catching somewhere in the gap. "Yeah," you say, and it’s the truth. You think about it all the time. About how everything seems to be moving, how things are slipping away, and how you don’t know how to hold on when the world keeps shifting.

"Me too," he says, and the words feel too final, like a door closing softly in the distance. His eyes are searching yours, as if looking for a reflection of the question in them, but you don’t know what answer he wants, what answer you have.

In the distance, a flock of birds takes off, heading toward something unseen, something only the wind knows. You watch them, the flutter of their wings a reminder that not everything has a destination—that sometimes, they just go.

You don’t say it, but the thought lingers there, the answer to a question he asked only a month ago—maybe they don’t know where they’re going. Maybe they just go. Maybe that’s what you’ll do, too, when the time comes.

Soonyoung exhales, long and slow. "Guess we’ll figure it out."

And maybe that’s enough. Maybe it always will be.

Soonyoung doesn’t come back the next summer. Or the summer after that.

The silence between you stretches, a quiet that fills every corner of your life. The sky is still the same shade of blue when summer rolls in, but it feels emptier now, as if it’s lost something it never meant to lose.

Your mother sends you news articles. They arrive in the mailbox, pressed between the usual letters and bills, but they stand out. Always. She folds the pages carefully, her handwriting neatly scrawled across the top: Look what Soonyoung's up to now.

One article is about how he’d been selected to join a world-renowned dance troupe. Another talks about how he’d choreographed for Coachella, the way his name shimmers in the lights of the stage, filling every word with something grander than what you remember. Then there’s the Super Bowl. His name, in bold letters, nestled between those of stars, as if it belonged there all along.

Each article feels like a different version of him, a version you never thought about until now. The way he stands at the center of massive stages, the weight of his presence carving space in places you always knew he was meant to reach. But still, with each new article, you can’t help but feel that familiar ache in your chest, the one that comes with absence. He’s somewhere out there, taking up space in the world in ways you’d never thought possible, but not here. Not here with you.

You can’t help but wonder, as you read about his successes, if he’s forgotten. If the days on the cliffs, with the ocean at your feet and the wind in your hair, have faded into something like a dream, a summer you shared once but can never go back to. Maybe he never felt it the way you did. Maybe he was always meant for something bigger than that small town, something grander than the boardwalk and the rusty Ferris wheel and melted bubblegum ice cream.

You try not to hold it against him. But it lingers—soft, insistent. The part of you that once thought you were forever, that once imagined summers and years stretching into something permanent. Now, it's just you, the ocean, and the echoes of a laughter that’s grown fainter with time.

But then, every time you close your eyes, you can still see him—the way his arms spread wide on the edge of the cliffs, the way the wind tugged at his hair, and the way, just for a moment, you thought he might fly.

JUNE 2024

Years later, you find yourself back on that same beach. The air hangs thick with memory, the scent of salt and sand settling into your lungs, familiar in a way that aches. You stand at the water’s edge, toes curling into the cool, damp sand, and for a second, you half-expect to see Soonyoung running down the shore, legs kicking up spray as he chases after the birds—always just a little too fast, just a little too wild, a laugh spilling from him like the ocean itself.

But he isn’t here.

The beach is quieter now, the laughter of summer replaced by the steady hush of the waves, the soft whisper of the wind that cuts through the air, carrying with it the weight of everything that’s changed. It feels different, but in a way, it doesn’t. The same sky, the same ocean, the same stretch of sand you once walked barefoot with him.

You stand there, the pulse of the tide at your feet, and listen. His voice is there—woven into the crash of the waves, into the way the wind tugs at your hair. It’s him, lingering like a shadow you can’t quite shake. You can almost hear him, shouting your name, daring you to join him in one more race down the shore, one more moment that was never really enough.

You wonder, for just a second, if the ocean remembers him the way you do—how his laughter once filled the air like music, how his presence used to make everything feel like it was meant to last. Maybe the ocean knows. Maybe it’s kept him in its depths, tucked between the rhythm of the waves, as if it, too, is holding on to the summers you had.

You are twenty-eight, and you will always love Kwon Soonyoung.

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corviiids · 2 months ago

Text

sparknotes for my souyo fic 'going on and on and on'

happy year of the souyo in 2025. it's souyo year everyone! (as always don't read the post if you haven't read the fic it won't make sense)

i feel like this is even less of a sparknotes and more of a stream of consciousness than usual but whatever. it's word vomit about interalised homophobia now

first of all the timeline, which fucked with me initially because p4 came out in 2008 and in my head i was like oh, it's set in 2008. it's NOT. it's set in 2011-2. anyway, i did some hurried bad math about it. basically yu and yosuke are a year or so post-college and are roughly 23-24 years old in this fic. nanako is 14-15. the title comes from signs of love because after i outlined the fic i checked out the lyrics to the song and was like hey. i think i just wrote that.

He said, "I'm the one who's got to leave", I said "Nobody's really got to leave 'cause I don't hear enough explanation All I need is admiration" Big frustration, bro, he goes "Life is short, we gave a shot But didn't work, honey, 'cause we had A whole lot going on and on and on"

so this idea of a post-canon souyo has been plaguing me for about a month, then i got sick and at the peak of the sick i rewatched p4a in its entirety so that was that. i think yosuke with internalised homophobia is rightfully a cornerstone of p4 fandom but lately ive been yearning for a quieter and slightly more insidious form, beyond the old standby of 'yosuke overcomes his visible bigotry, one of them confesses, and the relationship starts'. i was like, what if yosuke IS over his bigotry insofar as it applies to other people, and yu's already confessed, and that's still not enough for the relationship to start because yosuke hasn't overcome the mental block it's created for himself without his knowledge? it's harder to overcome that, because yosuke's not aware that he has any qualms left about liking guys, so he doesn't even notice he's in denial. but yu notices, and it hurts him. and go from there.

i really like yosuke a lot. i think he's the most nuanced take on the best friend character out of 3/4/5 even though i obviously have a lot of love for ryuji as well as junpei - it's not necessarily that yosuke is a better or more complex character, but that he plays more with the trope. it's sort of novel because as well as being the fun and fresh bestie (with baggage!) he is also kind of the brains of the outfit and incredibly shrewd, which is rare for the best friend trope. also, all the best friend types are insensitive at times by way of being happy-go-lucky and sort of indelicate, but yosuke also says fucked up insensitive shit in a more blase and less clumsy way, at least as compared to characters who are openly crass - it reads less as rudeness from being unthinking and more as the consequence of an undercurrent of unconscious social biases, which again is more subtle and insidious. pair that with the fact that he's a legitimately reliable, kind, and clever guy, and that makes him a really fun character to write because he never says the obvious thing. pair HIM with yu, arguably the most good-natured and patient of the three protags, and you get a super fun dynamic with the potential for a lot of heartbreak. i know im not saying anything everyone doesnt already know because souyo has been around since the stone age, but listen. souyo is one of those things that's so obviously good and popular it becomes underrated again. it's like shakespeare. yeah souyo is like shakespeare i stand by that. justice and goodness demands that every now and then you sit down and re-realise how good souyo really is.

anyway! that led me to think about, like... if yu confessed before yosuke was ready, yosuke wouldn't shun him but definitely would make it extremely obvious that this was something he wasn't ready to confront. and those socially learned biases would come out in a way that yosuke means totally innocently and even kindly, but which would nevertheless hurt as much or even more as if yosuke had openly shunned yu. the events in my head are that yu confesses to yosuke a couple of years into living together and yosuke promptly compartmentalises that shit and refuses to reflect on it any further and represses anything relevant to thinking more deeply about it. yu, my best friend, is into me. [that's something i can't think about too much.] when i waved him off, he accepted it, so it can't be that serious. [yu is the type of person to shutter his own feelings away instead of bringing them up if he thinks he won't be well-received or might upset someone else, because he's an independent person who cares about others and fears being alone, which means i can't trust him to tell me honestly if he's upset.] i'm safe to assume this is behind us and move on. [i won't think about this again unless it's brought up again. i know yu won't bring it up again.]

"... Back in second year uni—yeah, he told me he was, I dunno, interested, or whatever. I told him I'd never thought about him like that. He said that was okay. And I guess I just—I mean, I never thought about it again.” Rise considers this. “That’s kinda a weird thing to never think about again,” she says. “Your best friend confesses his love to you and you’re just like, OKAY! Really?” When she says it like that, it is kind of weird.

the comment attached to this section in the working doc: "yosuke: am i really a chill guy or is it repression"

in the fic yu mentions he kissed yosuke at least once while drunk. yu being drunk means yosuke has a perfectly good excuse to dismiss that event as a one-off and ignore it too. this is brought up in like one sentence in the fic and neither character addresses it directly or goes back to it to discuss it, and that was very important to me. i think in a lot of pining fic the focus is on the knowledge of whether or not feelings are requited. once it's clear that both parties have feelings for each other, or even that one party has feelings for the other, the major roadblock is cleared and they're able to pursue a relationship, which is why in a lot of 'getting together' fics the climactic event is, understandably, the confession! in reality things can be a lot more complicated than that :( yosuke doesn't know how he feels about yu, but is aware he feels strongly. but yu confessing and even kissing him or doing other things that make his feelings undeniable isn't enough to overcome the difficulty that yosuke is facing internally - it's not enough to make him sit down and go, yu has feelings for me, so should i think about how i feel about him?

on that note, another thing i really wanted to avoid is the idea that yu just moves out because yosuke doesn't reciprocate:

"... And if you really never felt that way about me… if we were only ever going to be friends, I would’ve been fine with that. But if you refuse to face yourself, it’s different. It hurt too much. ..." -- "... You don't want to be ready. You don’t want to confront this about yourself, the idea that you might feel that way about a guy. You want to keep living this way forever, just having fun and hiding away. And I just—I can't do it anymore, okay, Yosuke? I can't keep helping you hide. I can't keep sleeping in the next room, making you breakfast, helping you pretend away the fact that I—” He stops and sighs. “If I'm wrong, and you never felt the same, then I'm wrong. I can live with that. I just need to know you're not running away. I can't keep being your accomplice in that.”

yu's pain doesn't come from his feelings being unrequited, it's that yosuke doesn't respect himself or yu enough to be honest with himself. if yosuke had done his reflection and come to the genuine conclusion that he either doesn't like guys or does but doesn't feel that way about yu, then yu would have accepted that. in another universe i would've written a fic about genuine unrequited love where yosuke just does not feel that way about yu and yu is okay with it because he loves yosuke as his best friend and partner and would be completely fine living with him as his roommate and standing by him as his friend, content to spend time together. the only reason i can't write this fic is just because i personally think yosuke DOES reciprocate... lol. anyway as naoto brings up:

“No… Well, not really,” says Yosuke. “I mean, I guess it does, but it's not him, exactly. I just don't know how to react to this. It's a lot of pressure, you know? Him saying he's serious about me, and that he can't live with me unless I feel the same, or whatever. It's kind of too much. I know Yu likes guys, but I never even thought about that sort of thing, so it's… kind of a blindside.” Naoto seems to pick his next words carefully. “I don't believe it was ever Yu’s intention to present you with an ultimatum,” he says. “I can't imagine he would want to make your friendship contingent on reciprocating his feelings. It's none of my business, but I would encourage you to reevaluate his meaning.”

this maybe feels like a fine distinction, but it's really important for me to make!! yu's never going to hold his friendship hostage because yosuke doesn't reciprocate. this fic has almost nothing to do with how yosuke feels about yu and everything to do with how honest yosuke is with himself, and how THAT affects yu. yu is aware that every moment he spends with yosuke in this state is more time that he's enabling yosuke not to be honest with his own feelings, which forces yu not only to live in a hurtful lie but to be actively complicit in doing so. this is p4 after all! the entire theme is facing yourself and the strength of heart required to face oneself being made manifest. yu endures it for like five years and then eventually realises he can't do it anymore, either from a values perspective or from a self-care perspective. this distinction matters so much to me because of course it's a ship fic and romance tends to be at the heart of ship fic, but yosuke's romantic feelings for yu really aren't at the heart of this conflict at all. i don't want the message to be that yosuke has fixed himself via being gay for his partner. rather, his love for yu in whatever form, and the idea that yu represents the truth for him, forced yosuke to accept the truth about himself and finally enables him and yu to live in an honest way.

ok let's like briefly talk about the other ships and characters. sorry to yukiko who got almost no screentime it just happened that way.

this fic kinda has... every ship?? in it?? which was sort of intentional. i was really trying to push hard with that 'small town' thing of everyone knowing everyone, because this was what yosuke ended up using as his shield against what he was actually avoiding. he thinks it's just that inaba's world is too small and that he doesn't want to be like his friends just dating within their circles, but as yu points out, it's really not a problem to date within your friend group if that's what's working for you. i wanted yosuke to have this easy excuse to start with before eventually realising his problem isn't inaba and the solution isn't tokyo - the problem is inaba when yu isn't there, because it lost its appeal once yu left, and the solution is only tokyo when yu is with him, because tokyo loses its shine when yu leaves there too. the point is that yosuke is looking in completely the wrong direction for what's actually making him happy. his problem wasn't inaba at all, and there's nothing wrong with dating your best friend. ok i said i was gonna talk about other characters but it's yosuke again. let's talk about other characters. my point was that it's kind of a 'and they all lived happily ever after' stereotype to pair all the main characters off, but that was a Literary Decision. ok it was a Choice. i Meant to do that. probably

chie and yukiko to me are just an obvious pair. i actually initially thought about dating yukiko when i did my first p4 run but after doing her dungeon i abandoned that idea entirely because her and chie go through an entire romance arc in about four seconds flat. i dont need to sell anyone on those two. ive always had a real soft spot for kanji and naoto, but i also really like naoto and rise together, so i thought, this would be a fun way to complicate things even further for yosuke by instead of just pairing them off having them all be involved with each other in this web of casual relationships. i didn't tag any of the other ships because to be frank it's just not really about them since yosuke's mostly just focused on himself, so there's not a lot of detail in the fic about what's going on there, so here's like... a chart... btw seven months pass from the beginning of the fic until the end. at the three month mark chie and kanji go to visit yosuke. ok we go

at the start of the fic kanji and naoto are in an on-again-off-again situationship. when kanji visits yosuke at the three-month mark they're still in this state. sometime between this and the point where yosuke visits inaba, kanji and naoto settle and solidify, so by the end of the fic they are in a serious committed relationship.

naoto is bigender because all detective princes are bigender. yosuke didn't ask her pronouns but they're he/she interchangeably. she can be referred to as kanji (and rise)'s boyfriend or girlfriend but usually prefers partner. the others sometimes fumble around with this so sometimes (most often with chie and yosuke) he will just be referred to as kanji and rise's... (confusion) naoto???

rise and naoto get involved while kanji and naoto are still figuring their shit out and aren't exclusive. they are strictly casual and are not looking to be in a long-term relationship.

kanji and naoto are technically open but neither of them is seeing anyone else except for naoto seeing rise. kanji is okay with this but as naoto says in the fic he is still getting used to it. naoto and rise are prepared to end their involvement if at any point kanji decides he's not okay with it anymore. kanji is a little insecure because he isn't sure how much naoto really likes him, but once he realises how serious naoto actually is about him, he will settle down and i think he'll be fine.

rise is not interested in a long-term committed relationship right now at all. she is exceptionally chill about the interconnected relationships and is jealous of nobody. after yu and yosuke get together she and yu will shake hands and go back to being normal friends.

she gets involved with yu after yu moves back to inaba. they refer to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend but it's not that serious. yu is earnestly trying to move on from yosuke (hasn't yet) but is not attempting to do so with rise, they are just having fun. (rise calls herself yu's rebound but this is a joke)

chie and yukiko are each other's girlfriends but might come out of their holiday as fiancees. unclear

teddie is single

so that's the soap opera part of all this

i was personally really fond of the naoto and rise scenes in this, i just liked writing them a lot. naoto really suffers from being the last character added to the party and so just doesn't get the same amount of time to develop her relationship with the group or with any individual party members, which is such a shame, because she is SUCH a fun character. she and yosuke are really interesting because i would argue that (maybe outside of yu) they're the smartest characters in the party and until naoto joins the group it's yosuke filling the niche of the detective, so it's sort of a shame that they never really get to bond. this section also has one of my favourite lines in the fic which i keep expecting someone to call me out on

Whoa. Naoto’s getting more than him? Pint-sized, gender-ambiguous, awkward turtle Naoto Shirogane?

remember when everyone was saying awkward turtle? i just wanted to be true to this being a game from 2008.

anyway, there are two bits of advice to come out of the naoto and rise sections that i thought were most important to yosuke's development in this fic:

Naoto leans forward. “Yosuke,” he says gently. “I know we don't know each other particularly well, but for my part, I’ve always considered you a good friend. Would you accept a bit of well-intentioned advice?” He waits for Yosuke to jerk his head. “It's not a failure of self to admit that you want something. Just remember that, okay?”

and

Yosuke furrows his brow. “You realise it sucks, right?” he asks her. “It sucks people keep talking to me like they know me better than I know me.” Rise shrugs. “Isn’t that what friends are?” she says. “S’not like not knowing yourself makes you a dummy. That’s life. We haven’t got the TV anymore, so you gotta have friends you can count on to… to switch on the Yosuke show and spot your Shadow self when you can’t see it. Persona!”

the latter to me is about the mortifying ordeal of being known or whatever. it's about being vulnerable to others in a way you yourself aren't aware of and accepting that that isn't a bad thing all the time. i kinda want to offer yosuke some grace here as well - as irritatingly oblivious as he is, it IS kind of disconcerting and upsetting to be constantly told things about yourself like everyone thinks they know better, and it can be really uncomfortable to have a relationship with a friend reframed by finding out they feel a way about you that you weren't aware of. the stuff he has to overcome in this fic is more complex than just 'accept he likes guys' - there's a lot of introspection and acceptance required in looking inward and finding out you don't know yourself as well as you thought you did, especially if there's external pressure.

"hey rook, why didn't anybody kiss in this fic?" i personally really enjoy making you read twelve thousand words of pre-relationship and not rewarding you at all. that's the reason.

when i was first outlining the fic, i got to the confrontation that yu and yosuke have at samegawa and thought, okay, this is the part of yosuke's social link where yosuke (atlus?) fumbles his shit hard, because that entire rank reads as leading towards a love confession until yosuke is like "YOU HAVE TO PUNCH ME IN THE FACE."

so in my head i was like, this fic COULD be a fix-it for that. it could be. a different man would end the fic there and have yosuke realise his shit after yu chews him out, and it resolves by yosuke going "this time im going to ask him to kiss me instead of punch me" and then it resolves with a kiss and they live happily ever after. obviously i couldn't do that. it had to be a lot messier than that because of who i am as a person. so i dragged the outline on for another 1.5k or something after that point and the fic itself runs for another 6k.

LIKE THIS POST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I THOUGHT I WOULDN'T HAVE THAT MUCH TO SAY AND THEN IT JUST GOES ON AND ON AND ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#THIS POST IS 3.4K #rookfic #long post #my god dont read this i just had to exorcise this. im in the p4 mines

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qqueenofhades · 1 year ago

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I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to argue with people about the worthlessness of voting third party. They just keep insisting that the influence is worth it, and that I was a coward for daring to suggest that we don't HAVE any other options than Democratic. I even cited how voting third party likely played a part in Al Gore losing ffs.

There's no "likely" about it, Ralph Nader DID directly cost Gore the election. He ran explicitly on the same "both parties are the same, so leftists/liberals should vote for me instead" rhetoric that we are still seeing among the Online Left, and it was successful: he got, for example, over 97,000 votes in Florida. Bush won Florida (and thus the presidency) by a miniscule 537 votes, after the fuckery of Bush v. Gore and SCOTUS ordering the recount stopped in Bush's favor. If the tiniest percentage of those Nader voters had gone for Gore, we would have had a president who was arguing in favor of tackling climate change in the year 2000. We would have been incredibly ahead of the curve. We would, in all likelihood, have a president who took the CIA's warnings of an impending al-Qaeda attack in the US seriously. We would not have had the disastrous Afghanistan and Iraq invasions and the "War on Terror," the rampant Islamophobia, "No Child Left Behind," the 2008 economic crash, and everything else that Dubya and his band of bloodthirsty neocons inflicted on us in the early aughties. Look, I try not to look back too much, but having Gore instead of Bush as president would have reshaped the entire timeline we're living in to such an unfathomably better degree that every moron thinking of voting third party For The Protest should be sat down and forced to learn this history intimately. Of course, they already saw it happen in real time in 2016, but they didn't care about that either.

The good news is: there are plenty of persuadable voters out there, and you can do work to reach them and convince them to vote for Democrats! They're just not online, because all the Online Leftists are terminally brain-poisoned against voting anyway and trying to argue with them is generally a waste of time. Instead, what you should do is take a gander at the following links:

This is the one-stop shop page for volunteering to get Democrats elected. You can do in-person and remote work, there are tons of different ways to get involved (i.e. you don't have to go directly out and knock doors if that's not something you're comfortable with), and your local Democratic party will welcome the volunteer help. There is also a page for finding your state party website:

I went there, clicked on my state, opened the webpage, and there was a "Volunteer" link right in the header, with an easy and quick form to fill out to register your interest and explain the kinds of work you would be interested in doing. You can canvass directly, you can manage data on the back end, you can phone bank, you can send texts and postcards to voters who may need an extra nudge, you can otherwise work with your state party in lots of ways, and it will be so much more productive and make you feel so much better than arguing with online idiots who will never, ever change their minds. What you can do is reach out to voters in your own community, in your own state, and have conversations with people who actually ARE willing to listen, but might need a little more educating on the facts, what's at stake, the truth about this election, and the danger that Trump poses. All of this will convert into critically important Democratic votes, and you can actually put your desire to make a difference into action. So yeah. I would 100% suggest you do it this way instead. Good luck.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts

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ninupi · 5 months ago

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could i request a manjiro fic or headcanon for akaashi!reader with the childhood best friends trope? yk, that they meet thanks to shinichiro and takeomi. i love your work! ♥️

best friends | s. mikey

₊˚⊹♡ tags; fem!reader, reader is kinda mean to Mikey, she's lowk a tsundere, she's also crybaby so if you don't like then don't read! imo its justified tho idk, she's ALSO a bit embarrassing, reader gets a bit insecure with the way she acts, she's got layers to her LMAO yeah just lmk if anything else

₊˚⊹♡ wc; 2,200+

₊˚⊹♡ a/n; this came out a lot more angsty then I intended LOL sorry about that

1998

You and Emma watched from a distance while her brother and your brother started play fighting. You noticed Emma shaking her head with a sigh. "Boys are so stupid… c'mon y/n." You let her drag you away, but your eyes stayed on the two boys until you couldn't see them anymore.

"Haru is stupid. I think Mikey is cool, though." Your words make Emma stop in her tracks and give you a disgusted look. "Ew!! What are you talking about?" She drops your hand, waiting for you to explain, but you just stare at her, speechless, not believing you said that out loud to her.

"Y/n do you like my brother?" she questions with that same disgusted tone from before, you quickly shake your head reaching for her hand again. She quickly pulls away not believing you and runs back in the direction of the two boys.

"Mikey!!! Y/n likes you!!" you quickly run after her trying to stop her from saying anything to the boy "Emma shut up!!! That's not true I don't like him!!"

2008

You're walking to Emma's house after school while she rambles about how Draken still hasn't asked her out but your thoughts are on a different blonde. "Are you listening y/n?" you turn to Emma who has a small pout on her lips.

You give her a sweet smile "Not at all, no" you laugh as her jaw drops and she softly whacks you on the arm "I'm sick of you talking about Draken! I'm just going to tell him to ask you out already" you groan throwing your head back to look at the sky.

"No you can't do that!" She panics grabbing onto your arm as a plea "And why not?" you shake her hold off running up ahead a bit and begin walking backwards "B-because then he'll just feel forced and it'll be like he didn't really want too!"

You roll your eyes at her ridiculous thinking while turning around "Emma are you dumb or are you stupid?" you can't help the grin on your face at her gasp but quickly start running when you hear her start to chase after you "I'm not dumb! Or stupid!"

"Yeah your not, but Draken is! Seriously I'm just going to tell him to ask you out!" You call out to the girl behind you "You do that and I'll tell Mikey you like him!" This immediately makes you stop running to face the girl behind you who bumps into you not expecting you to stop.

"I don't like Mikey, would you drop that?" you grumble gently pushing the girl off you "Oh come on y/n, why are you lying?" you give her a disgusted look before continuing in the direction of her house "Y/n~" she whines grabbing onto your arm.

It's been 10 years since you've 'liked' Mikey, and in your opinion a kiddy crush doesn't count "I was like 7 Emma, I don't like him anymore. I'm not you" you saying hinting at her life long crush on her brothers best friend.

He cheeks softly flush before she sighs "I know your lying, I just don't know why...I don't care if you like my brother anymore!" you give her an odd look "Seriously why do you think I like him still? That was like 10 years ago!" you can't help but laugh at the absurd assumption.

She gives you a look before a teasing smile forms on her face "You know we have a lot of sleepovers right?" your eyebrows furrow waiting for her to further explain "Did you know you talk in your sleep y/n?" This reveal makes your ears heat up.

"What are you talking about?" you question while you guys finally get to her house "You know," she shrugs opening the gate while walking in "No, I don't know!" you question urgently wanting to know what she's talking about.

"I like to talk about Draken while I'm awake, but you love to talk about Mikey while you're asleep." She giggles opening the front door stepping inside "Stop lying that's not funny, I don't sleep talk!" you insist hoping she's lying to get you to reveal the truth.

"You do sleep talk" You quickly turn after taking your shoes off to see Mikey eating a taiyaki giving you a blank look "I told you" Emma nudges while walking further into her house "You didn't know you slept talk?" Mikey questions with a full mouth giving you a confused look.

You stare at him a bit wide eyed while Emma smirks from behind him "N-no I had no idea I slept talk..." you mutter trying to walk past him but he only follows "That's so funny, I'm always talking to you when your sleeping" he laughs causing you to turn towards him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" you interrogate him hoping you've only exposed your secret to Emma. "I mean its the only time you actually talk to me and aren't mean to me" he explains looking at you up and down motioning towards your hostile attitude towards him.

"I'm not mean to you" you mutter turning away from him hoping to get away from the conversation "You're a lot nicer when you're sleeping" You can hear the pout in his voice and when you turn towards him he has an unreadable look on his face.

After leaving Mikey in the hallway alone you and Emma headed to her room to complete your homework, then you insisted on staying in there to hide away from Mikey. But after a few hours Shinichiro had called the two of you out to go eat dinner.

Once you entered the kitchen you noticed that your bother and some of his other friends had shown up while you two (mostly just you) were hiding away in Emma's room. "How long have you been here?" Haru gives you a suspicious look while pointing at you.

"She came right after school, you know she didn't know she slept talk?" you slightly jump at Mikey appearing from behind you "Would you shut up about that?" you bark at him only to back away when he gives you a 'told you so' look about your conversation earlier.

"She's always slept talk, it's freaky" you quickly reach over the table to yank on Haru's long hair "You're freaky!" he glares at you planning to do the same to you "Hey! No fighting, please!" you turn to Shinichiro who has a desperate look on his face and quietly mutter an apology.

"It's funny, we're always talking to you when you're sleeping" Baji laughs causing everyone to softly laugh "It's not funny, why do you guys even do that?" you groan at this embarrassing conversation "Because you'll tell us anything when your asleep!" Takemitchi adds causing you to glare at him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" you notice his smile immediately drop at your tone "Nothin- you always tell me how much you love me" Mikey casually says taking a bite of his food while everyone stares at him shocked.

You immediately stand up from the table feeling overwhelmed at all the eyes on you "Wait y/n- not now Emma" you brush her hand off you, heading towards the front door quickly slipping your shoes on walking outside.

Exactly how long has Mikey known about your crush on him? How long has everyone known about your crush on him? You thought you were doing a good job at hiding it just to find out you babble about it while you're asleep apparently. The thought makes you want to cry, it's so humiliating.

Everyone; Emma, Haru, Baji, Mikey himself knew about your crush and chose not to say anything to you. You guess that was his way of rejecting you just now, telling you he knew this entire time but didn't pursue anything. But how could you blame him?

Like he said earlier, you're always mean to him, it's not like you meant to be mean to him. Well...you did but only because you didn't want him thinking you liked him. Looking back on it now, it was stupid, Emma's always sweet with Draken and he loves her too.

Maybe you should've just been like Emma and been to sweet to Mikey, then maybe he'd actually return your feeling. All these what ifs make your head hurt and your eyes sting with tears, not wanting to cry you look up the dark sky hoping it'll stop your tears from falling.

Instead it just makes your tears fall after down your cheeks while you groan in annoyance 'this is nobody's fault besides my own' you think to yourself while bringing your hands up to your cheeks to dry them. "Why are you crying?"

You quickly turn to see Mikey with a confused but also somewhat sad look on his face "I'm not crying" you mutter turning away from him to quickly dry your tears. You can hear him slowly shuffling towards you "You're a shit liar" he whispers when he finally stands next to you.

You softly glare at him wanting to cry all over again seeing his face "What do you want Mikey?" you sigh with no bite in your tone which surprises him a bit. "I wanna know why you're crying," he says again with more emphasis as if he can't piece together the reason for your tears.

'I'm crying because you don't like me back' you cringe to yourself deciding not to say that outloud and save yourself further embarrassment "Mikey..." you sigh not wanting to explain and hoping he's just being dense "What? Seriously I want you to tell me why your crying" he says a bit agitated.

You furrow your brows at his tone now, does he just want you to say it out loud? Is he trying to get payback for your attitude for the last few years "You're being mean Mikey..." you mutter before you can stop yourself and you can't help the tears that sting your eyes once again.

He takes a defensive step back "Mean? How the hell am I being mean? I'm trying to help you!" you take a step closer to him "You're being mean! You know why I'm crying!" you point an accusatory finger at him.

"I don't know why you're crying! That's why I'm asking!" he argues throwing his arms to the side, you look at his face for any sign of him lying but all you see is confusion and annoyance "God you're so stupid" you mutter "Ok fine" he bites turning away heading back towards the house.

"Wait Mikey" you sigh realizing your words came out harsher then you intended "Mikey I'm sorry, come back!" you call out as he ignores you "Mikey please!" you can't help the small sob that leaves your lips as he gets further away.

Hearing your small cries makes Mikey stop in his tracks and turn towards you "I'm sorry, please come back" you're no longer trying to hide your tears, just hoping he'll give you another chance and come back to talk.

You watch as his face goes from a deep scowl to a frown and he slowly makes his way back to you "What's wrong? Seriously, why are you crying?" he genuinely questions unsure of the reason for all these tears "I'm sorry Mikey" you repeat over and over again.

"It's fine you call me stupid all the time- No I'm sorry Mikey. For all of that, for always calling you stupid, for always telling you to shut up, always being mean! I'm sorry..." you sob reaching for his hands and holding them close to your heart.

When he pulls his hands away it makes you want to cry even harder but before you can he quickly pulls you into an awkward hug. "What are you talking about? I don't actually care about that, that's just how you are, I'm used to it." he mutters squeezing you a bit tighter.

"I'm crying because you don't like me" you mutter getting over your embarrassment and just hoping to go back to how things were "Of course I like you y/n- No Mikey, like me-love me how I love you" you sigh wrapping your arms around him enjoying the embrace for the time being.

Mikeys silence makes your heart hurt but you only close your eyes and hug him tighter "I do love you stupid, I thought you knew that..." you try to pull away from the hug but he keeps a tight grip on you "You never hug me, let me enjoy this" he sighs taking a deep breath.

"But Mikey y-you love me? Why haven't you said anything?" you urge wanting to see his face "I seriously thought you knew, I always tell you when you're sleeping" You want to punch him in the stomach at his obvious tone.

'I'm sleeping though, how the hell would I know!?" you question softly jabbing at his stomach causing him to laugh softly "You always say it back! I just thought you were too embarrassed to say it when your fully awake" he explains grabbing your hands to stop them from touching his ticklish sides.

You think back to see if you even remember whispering it in your sleep but nothing comes up. Except the few times you've had dreams where Mikeys there, then it hits you, you two always exchange 'I love you's' in those 'dreams'.

You groan in embarrassment at the revelation trying to hide your face in Mikeys embrace "What happened? Finally remembering how you tell me you love me in your sleep" he grins trying to get a good look at your face "Mikey shut up!" you whine rushing his face away making him laugh loudly.

#ninupi #writing #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #fem reader #tokyo rev x reader #mikey sano #mikey x reader #mikey x you #mikey x y/n #manjiro sano #sano manjiro #sano mikey x reader #sano mikey manjiro #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro x you #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers sano manjiro

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rowanthestrange · 1 year ago

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The one downside of this episode is i’m now gonna have to watch at least a full week of people going “oh so russell’s improved on the racism then” but it’s not about the accidental Mickey - stupid ape shit that he was called out on and had opportunity to fix and didn’t cus he’d ‘already started it’ and only later realised he should’ve listened to people after he’d colourblind-cast Mickey as black (including listening to the actor himself). No, it’s people to this fucking day not understanding the simple ABC Martha subplot because they think Ten’s flaws are the writer’s.

a) Ten tells Martha to “oh just walk around like you own the place”.

b) Martha is called a slur in that episode by the symbol of britain - Shakespeare himself. This showed that this was bad advice from Ten.

c) Ten not seeing Martha for who she is, ties into “not seeing colour” a thing actual progressives were trying to stop people saying at the time, that yes colour is important to note and was why Russell said there needed to be a black companion specifically when people complained and asked ‘why he couldn’t just hire the best person’. It comes to a head in the show when Ten gets Martha stuck in a hideously racist position because he did not see her as herself, a fact which is repeatedly shown to be awful and bad as she is mistreated and belittled, it is openly shown to be racist. The Doctor Did Bad by being all enlightened futurist ‘not seeing colour’ and therefore not seeing the reality the person he cared about was actually facing.

I have never met a single member of the general public who didn’t get that back in 2008 by the way. My grandmother got it. This is a solid fandom-based-brainworms lack of basic media comprehension.

#this is me being so brave about it #you have no idea how brave i am about it #on a daily basis #you don’t have to reblog it people will eat you

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georgscumdump · 2 months ago

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ok so like TOM KAULITZ FLUFF (2007-2008). 😼

not forcing or stressing but maybe if you can do a fanfic where the reader and Tom dated but took a break in like 2007 bc of a toxic relationship and he was having one night stands with women ykyk but then got back together and lived happily ever after

it has to be done...

tom kaulitz x f!reader

genre: everything ig

summary: the req

warnings: mentions of arguing, tom having sex with another girl, more mentions of sex, probably etc.

a/n: my word document subscription expired halfway into writing this so i had to write this on google docs💔 anyways im so happy you guys are sending requests againjhahsgcwgwfcwubjkcwdcgcwugfweufy okay i need to stop

°.✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩.°

Being in a relationship with Tom was a pain at times. You both fought constantly, and made up by sex. And it repeated, and repeated. You both don't know it yet but it was slowly killing the both of you.

So, you decided it had to be done.

Walking into the living room where Tom was sitting, minding his own business, you had become slightly hesitant about the whole situation, as you knew it was going to end in another argument. But again, it had to be done.

“Tom?”

“What Y/N.”

“Can we talk?”

“Oh, uh- sure.”

He felt confused, you were never really like this. He didn’t know if he liked it or hated it, but truth be told it was much more preferable than always yelling at each other.

You found it hard to explain how you thought the both of you needed to take a break, but you ended up finding the words. As you explained, he surprisingly wasn’t angry at all- he listened to you for once.

When you finished speaking he nodded his head, and you both confirmed it would be better if the both of you separated for a while. The thought of separating with him came to your mind when you had randomly thought about how he’s going on tour soon, and also you had had a fight earlier that day- so you thought it would be for the best.

*big ass time skip*

°.✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩.°

This was the last show of the tour thank god, but you know what that means. Another show, another girl. As he brought another girl back to the hotel, he obviously did what was done on a one night stand, had sex with the girl. But, all he could think of when he was fucking her, was you. His head was filled with you, and only you. He couldn;t get you out of his head- no matter how hard he tried to distract himself from the thought as he was currently having sex with another woman- he couldn’t.

And he did something about it.

In the midst of it, he pulled out. Leaving the girl confused, he stood up and put his clothes on.

“Get out.”

He said blankly, leaving the girl even more confused as she already was.

“What?”

“You heard me, get out.”

She gave him the dirtiest look before getting up, getting dressed and walking towards the door, but before she opened the door she told him

“You're a real asshole, y’know that?”

He was again thinking of you, having flashbacks of the fights between you two.

“Oh my god- just get out!”

He yelled, the girl realized her mistake and quickly made her way out the room. When she closed the door in a rush on her way out, Tom sat on the bed and put his face in his hands.

He missed you.

*another time skip*

°.✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩.°

Home sweet home. He wasn’t just happy to be home though, he wanted to see you. As he sat in the car for the long drive home, soon enough he was standing at the front door. When he opened the door, he obviously walked in and closed the door behind him. Looking where you stood in the kitchen, he immediately dropped his bags. You looked over to the door, and you froze. He was home. You immediately stopped what you were doing and started walking over to him. He did the same before you started running to him, jumping on him and clinging onto him tightly. You nearly fell before he grabbed onto you, lifting you back up again.

“I missed you Liebe..”

He whispered, going to kiss you. You kissed him back before pulling away and burying your face into his neck.

“I missed you too Tommy.”

He smiled at your words, and finally, things were back to normal with you too.

°.✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩.°

guys help idk if this is good or not

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should-know-better · 9 months ago

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Today I discovered that Alex Turner was not* in an official relationship both times that TLSP projects started.

Timelines:

Jan 2007 - Alex and Johanna Bennett break up

Feb - Mar 2007 - AM on tour with The Liitle Flames. Alex and Miles write together. (* Nb: they had written some songs at the end of 2006 too so technically I suppose he was in a relationship then but hardly saw her)

Apr 2007 and Jul 2007 - TAOTU demos done.

6-8 Jul 2007 - T in the Park. Alex and Alexa meet but she already has a boyfriend.

Aug 2007 - TAOTU recorded in France.

Oct 2007 - Q Awards. Alex and Alexa officially together for the first time.

Apr 2008 - TAOTU released.

End Jan 2014 - Alex and Arielle break up.

11-20 Apr 2014 - Alex and Miles go on a road trip to Coachella and listen to old TAOTU songs on the way. Miracle Aligner first strummed.

Rest of 2014 - Alex and Miles - Power Couple Era

Dec 2014 - Aviation written.

Mar 2015 - Alex and Taylor get together.

Summer 2015 - EYCTE recorded in Malibu.

April 2016 - EYCTE released.

This is all just a very long winded way of saying what I said at the beginning. However I thought the timeline made the history clearer (well it does for me). I’d never realised that Alex and Alexa weren’t properly together when TAOTU was recorded in France during that idyllic summer…

#didn’t source everything here as I don’t have time #but sources are available #timeline #miles kane #alex turner #tlsp #milex #taotu #eycte

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fascinating-yarn · 9 months ago

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So You Want To Know About Chess The Musical

So you want to know about Chess. The first piece of advice I have to give you is:

Step 0: Are you sure?

Because trust me, it's a whole lot weirder than you think, even if you know that the story is, in fact, only very little about chess (the board game). But if you are sure, because you have a friend who, like me, can't stop talking about it, then, you're ready to begin with step one.

Step 1: Listen to the concept album

Yes, there are plenty of recordings of the full show that are easily accessible on YouTube. Do not be fooled. With very minor exceptions, they will not elucidate anything at all. Trust me, even if your favorite actor is in one of them, start here. You will have time to get back to them later, trust me. It helps to read the synopsis of the album while listening; this has been kindly transcribed here by @alovebizarre.

Already hooked? Yeah, probably. Now you understand why all of us got stuck down here in our circle of complaining about this show. We, too, all thought it was going to be good based on the concept album.

Step 1.5: Watch the 1989 concert

This is mostly the songs of the concept album and retains the two male leads, but has Judy Kuhn playing Florence, the female lead. It's a strong concert and only cuts one song, and adds another ("Someone Else's Story", the show's only breakout hit not on the album). There is plot narration in Swedish, but one of the versions on YouTube has been subtitled in English

Step 2: Acquaint yourself with The Big Four

Now you know the music but the plot may still not be totally clear. The next step is to get to know the major variations. These are, generally:

The 1986 London version (and derivatives)

The 1988 Broadway version (and derivatives)

The 1990 Sydney version (there aren't really derivatives for this one but the material shows up Everywhere)

The 2002 Swedish version aka Chess på svenska (and derivatives)

Now, you can watch the original productions of all of these, but the issue is that the first two are both... not great. So here are some alternatives.

Step 2a: London Alternatives

The London version is mostly an expansion of the plot of the concept album, with changes - most of the structural changes were initiated by director Michael Bennett, who left the production before rehearsals due to his illness, while most of the more distinct changes of themes are from later director Trevor Nunn.

There are videos of the original production, but they're generally poorly filmed and suffer from major generation loss. There was no cast album, but the score has been recorded twice: in 2002 with the cast of a Danish touring production (released as "Chess: Complete Cast Album," but recalled soon after and not on streaming) and in 2008 at the Royal Albert Hall (this is on streaming as "Chess in Concert" - one of two albums of that name).

Any one will give you an idea of the script, but the original London production is generally the most musically cohesive. The Royal Albert Hall version has some minor script changes, most of which make no real difference, but makes some bizarre choices in terms of transition music and is generally a poorly produced album. The Danish album is likewise not very strong.

The Royal Albert Hall concert was professionally filmed but the audio is poorly mixed and the show's cast varies from a few great performances to some that are... not so much. It's also got a track record of making people either latch on immediately or be totally turned away from the show, so watch at your own risk. For a possibly better experience, watch the original London production.

Step 2b: Broadway Alternatives

The original Broadway production still has a bit of a bad reputation in the fandom, but people have generally warmed up to it. The new book, by American playwright Richard Nelson, is generally strong (if a bit overlong) until about halfway through Act Two --- at which point it suddenly isn't anymore. The original production itself doesn't help, and though there are some good moments, it was not very well directed and some of Nelson's best scenes suffer.

Firstly, you should listen to the Broadway cast album. The cast is the best part of the show and does some incredible things. The new music isn't quite as good as the original material, but is still strong and worth knowing.

In terms of the actual book, your best chance at a good experience experience is probably the 1990 Long Beach production directed by David H. Bell and starring Jodi Benson, which has a watchable video online. There are some script changes, which serve to adjust the script to be less cynical, more palatable, and better paced. After this, do go back and watch the original cast, as it generally has a stronger overall cast and some scenes are genuinely great with them.

Step 2c: Sydney and Svenska

The Sydney production closed early due to the economic recession in Australia, and the script has never been revived, but parts of it appear all over the place, especially in the London derivatives of the early 1990s. It takes bits of the plots of both London and Broadway, and becomes its own thing. It is worth knowing, and there is a mostly bearable bootleg on YouTube.

If Sydney is its own thing for being a combination of London and Broadway, Svenska is its own thing because it resembles neither. The plot is streamlined to the essentials and takes place over a much shorter period of time, plus it has two new songs. There is a proshot that has been uploaded to YouTube with subtitles, and a very good cast album. There have been some productions since based on the script, but the original is still going to be your best starting point.

Step 3: Into The Abyss

There are so many other productions and they're all a little different from each other. Most are based on London or Broadway, but some are an odd combination resulting from people who wanted to produce the London version in the US being forced to retrofit the Broadway version (unavailable for US licensing until 2008). A non-exhaustive list is:

1990 US Tour: An early attempt to jump off the Broadway script into something new, this production stars 42.9% of the original Broadway cast of Falsettos and has some wild stuff. Don't watch till you know Broadway, since it has been known to sour people's opinions on the show.

1992 Off-Broadway: Preserved only in an incomplete, poor-quality audio bootleg, plus a slightly more complete script from a lost recording, this script is Tim Rice's first (but not last) attempt at making something definitive post-Broadway. It is one of the most bizarre scripts out there and should really be experienced late to be fully appreciated.

2003 Actors' Fund Benefit Concert: This one-night only concert is preserved on a leaked (but poor quality) archival video and a higher quality rehearsal performance. The script is an attempted hybrid of the London and Broadway scripts, but leans mostly on the London script with a few Broadway changes that serve really only to stay within the legal requirements of production still in place at the time (and doubly important due to Nelson's personal support of the concert).

2018 Kennedy Center Concert Series/2022 Entertainment Workers' Fund Benefit Concert: This is what's coming for the Broadway revival this fall. With a new book by Danny Strong, based on the London plot but with the details changed significantly, this production takes a more overtly political spin on the show and grounds it in actual political events. Start with the 2018 version, as it's generally agreed to be better than the later concert version.

2018 London Revival: To call this production a revival is generous, being staged by the English National Opera for a limited run and generally not being considered very important. It became well known mostly for being associated with the Kennedy Center production and the general knowledge that Rice was looking to bring the show back to Broadway. Despite that, this script is entirely unrelated to the Kennedy Center version and is mostly an onstage expansion of the concept album with the show being influenced heavily by Benny and Bjorn.

With all of these I have but one piece of final advice and that is:

Step 4: Be wary of The Discourse

This is not meant to scare you away from the fandom at all. I promise we're all very friendly and most of the discussions are quite civil. But every fan has very strong opinions about this show. I have tried to present this post as neutrally as possible but my bias has absolutely creeped in and you've already been influenced by my opinions on it. Some productions (notably the Kennedy Center script) are very divisive and I encourage you to consume them yourself and forming your own opinions.

And that is how to get into Chess. If you want to. It may not be the wisest decision, but hey, we all made the same mistake.

#chess the musical #if anyone asks where they should start send them this

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