#With evidence I planted on purpose

[gonerbird]

thinking about DRAG PATH (devil's eyes) thinking about DRAG PATH (devil's eyes) thinking about DRAG PATH (devil's eyes) thinking about DRAG PATH (devil's eyes) thinking abou-

[plantpest]

@ the anons in my ask telling me i'm a bully: have you ever wondered what the world could be like if you gained some basic reading comprehension?

[tofixtheshadows]

I've been thinking a lot lately about how Kabru deprives himself.

Kabru as a character is intertwined with the idea that sometimes we have to sacrifice the needs of the few for the good of the many. He ultimately subverts this first by sabotaging the Canaries and then by letting Laios go, but in practice he's already been living a life of self-sacrifice.

Saving people, and learning the secrets of the dungeons to seal them, are what's important. Not his own comforts. Not his own desires. He forces them down until he doesn't know they're there, until one of them has to come spilling out during the confession in chapter 76.

Specifically, I think it's very significant, in a story about food and all that it entails, that Kabru is rarely shown eating. He's the deuteragonist of Dungeon Meshi, the cooking manga, but while meals are the anchoring points of Laios's journey, given loving focus, for Kabru, they're ... not.

I'm sure he eats during dungeon expeditions, in the routine way that adventurers must when they sit down to camp. But on the surface, you get the idea that Kabru spends most of his time doing his self-assigned dungeon-related tasks: meeting with people, studying them, putting together that evidence board, researching the dungeon, god knows what else. Feeding himself is secondary.

He's introduced during a meal, eating at a restaurant, just to set up the contrast between his party and Laios's. And it's the last normal meal we see him eating until the communal ending feast (if you consider Falin's dragon parts normal).

First, we get this:

Kabru's response here is such a non-answer, it strongly implies to me that he wasn't thinking about it until Rin brought it up. That he might not even be feeling the hunger signals that he logically knew he should.

They sit down to eat, but Kabru is never drawn reaching for food or eating it like the rest of his party. He only drinks.

It's possible this means nothing, that we can just assume he's putting food in his mouth off-panel, but again, this entire manga is about food. Cooking it, eating it, appreciating it, taking pleasure in it, grounding yourself in the necessary routine of it and affirming your right to live by consuming it. It's given such a huge focus.

We don't see him eat again until the harpy egg.

What a significant question for the protagonist to ask his foil in this story about eating! Aren't you hungry? Aren't you, Kabru?

He was revived only minutes ago after a violent encounter. And then he chokes down food that causes him further harm by triggering him, all because he's so determined to stay in Laios's good graces.

In his flashback, we see Milsiril trying to spoon-feed young Kabru cake that we know he doesn't like. He doesn't want to eat: he wants to be training.

Then with Mithrun, we see him eating the least-monstery monster food he can get his hands on, for the sake of survival- walking mushroom, barometz, an egg. The barometz is his first chance to make something like an a real meal, and he actually seems excited about it because he wants to replicate a lamb dish his mother used to make him!

...but he doesn't get to enjoy it like he wanted to.

Then, when all the Canaries are eating field rations ... Kabru still isn't shown eating. He's only shown giving food to Mithrun.

And of course the next time he eats is the bavarois, which for his sake is at least plant based ... but he still has to use a coping mechanism to get through it.

I don't think Kabru does this all on purpose. I think Kui does this all on purpose. Kabru's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder should be understood as informing his character just as much as Laios's autism informs his. It's another way that Kabru and Laios act as foils: where Laios takes pleasure in meals and approaches food with the excitement of discovery, Kabru's experiences with eating are tainted by his trauma. Laios indulges; Kabru denies himself. Laios is shown enjoying food, Kabru is shown struggling with it.

And I can very easily imagine a reason why Kabru might have a subconscious aversion towards eating.

Meals are the privilege of the living.

[nanaminokanojo]

MASTERLIST

Sukuna is pissed.

The reason? You moved away from him in your sleep when he wanted to hold you close.

In your own subtle ways, you've always complained about how unaffectionate he is. You didn't explicitly say it, but he did notice how your mood would shift, your pretty little smiles barely masking your disappointment when he would do or say anything remotely cold or mean. And now that he was giving you what you wanted, you just roll away from him, depriving him of your warmth and the affection he expects you to reward him.

How you even managed to escape four of his arms to find your own corner of the bed was a big puzzle to him. You've always slept peacefully pressed to his side on most nights, and you didn't really move much once he had two of his arms wrapped around your frail form. Perhaps you were doing it on purpose after he had evidently upset you during supper by dismissing you when you asked about his day. There was nothing to tell, and though he understands that your concerns came from a good place, he still refused to tell you of the horrors of the world he found himself so deeply embroiled in.

Sukuna, however, brushed off the idea. You wouldn't dare. Or would you? He was just protecting you. Why would you hold that against him?

He chose not to entertain the thought, thinking it was just you moving in your sleep. And so, he reached for you, gently placing his arms over and underneath you to pull you closer. But it hadn't even been a minute of him holding you when you started letting out these seemingly irritated noises and shortly after, you were turning your back on him.

"What –" He stopped himself when you breathed in deeply, half expecting to hear sobs if you were truly upset with him, but then, your breathing rhythm returned to normal. You were still fast asleep.

Sukuna shrugged, already feeling his temper rising at the thought that you could sleep just fine without him. The thought of it annoyed him, and that was an understatement. He decided to move closer to you then, but as soon as he did, pressing your back on his bare chest, you started squirming, a dissatisfied groan leaving your lips.

At that, he rose slightly on his elbow, taking offense. "Woman, what is your problem?" he demanded, making you lie down flat on your back, startling you. "Is something ailing you?" This time, he spoke gently, watching as you slowly blinked up at his frowning face like you haven't got a clue what he's talking about. And then you closed your eyes before favoring your left side, going back to sleep.

"You –"

"What?" you whined without facing him, annoyed that your sleep was being disturbed.

Sukuna scoffed. You've really done it this time. Nobody dared speak to him that way. "What now? You don't want me anymore? I thought you wanted –"

In one swift movement, he found himself being tackled onto the bed as you turned around and threw yourself against him, immediately finding your spot in the crook of his neck. His two left arms instinctively wrapped around you, keeping you cradled in them as you snuggled closer, planting a kiss under his collarbone as if to appease him before you were falling back asleep.

"You could have just stayed like this –"

"Shh."

Did you just shush him? And as if to punctuate it, you raised your hand, your fingers blindly yet tenderly brushing his lips and staying there.

"Wife, you are aware I have two mouths, aren't you?" he spoke against your fingers, fighting a smile.

You moved your head back to smirk at him as you threw a leg over his abdomen right where his other mouth was, your thigh preventing it from saying anything.

"There. Problem solved."

[anothermonikan]

Guys not to be judgemental but like. does Saw get good again. genuinely.

[shomatoriashi]

10/13/24; 05:50pm

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you ride them for the first time ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

you cling to the sheets, feeling sylus’s every touch on your skin as he kept you pinned against his bed.

your clothes had long since been tossed carelessly aside, your bare form becoming subjected to sylus’s hungry gaze. you watch as he licks at his bottom lip, his once crimson eyes eclipsed by complete darkness as evident of his lust for you.

his looming presence descends upon you suddenly, and you could feel the way his hot mouth kisses and nips at your skin. your back arches against the bed, feeling sylus’s every touch as he trails his lips down your body. the moment you could feel his large hand gripping at your chest, you let out a sharp gasp, earning a mischievous smirk from him.

with one last chuckle, he speaks your name in a hoarse tone before descending upon you once more. his tongue wraps around your aching breast, curling and prodding against the hardened nub as you cried out to him. your hands automatically delve themselves into sylus’s hair, basking in the sinful sensation of his mouth against your sensitive skin.

he litters your chest with hickeys and lovebites, causing the ache felt between your legs take on an almost painful potency. your gasps and needy moans of his name seems to spur sylus on when he finally removes himself from your heaving breasts.

“aw, what’s this? has my kitten gotten needy for me?” your cocky lover smirks down at you, using his large hands to continue teasing at your skin. he continues to play with your nipples, making your breath hitch when he squeezes at them.

“i want to try something new.” you manage to tell him in between your gasps for air, eyes already going hazy as you fought back the urge to just pounce on him. sylus stops playing with your breast just then, a single brow lifted up in curiosity and amusement for you, “oh? is that so?”

his chest was practically vibrating with laughter now, with him resting a cheek against the palm of his hand while looking down at you. sylus allows his fingertips to lightly grace at your skin, his touches no heavier than dew as he admires the goosebumps left erupting in the wake of his reverent caress.

giving him a sly smile, you were able to switch positions with sylus. with your hand felt pressed against his chest, you lightly shove him back against the bed, earning a grunt from him. as he lays back, his smirk simply widens, his cockiness reaching new levels when he places both hands behind his head, watching your next move with utter amusement.

but what he wasn't expecting you to do was to straddle his hips, grabbing his erection with your soft hands as you continued to stroke his cock, making it twitch beneath your touch before leading his mushroom tip into your entrance. and when you manage to sink down on him, completely sheathing him within your slick heat, sylus knew that he was fighting a losing battle.

you plant the palm of your hands against his chest, bouncing up and down on his cock while letting out your sweet moans, simply chasing your high as you used him for that exact reason. the onychinus leader ends up gritting his teeth in response to your movements, hand gripping at your waist tightly as you continued to ride him sloppily.

your inexperience with this new position was almost endearing to sylus, and as you began to pant, whimpering while trying to maintain your pace, he knew that you needed his help. letting out a sigh, sylus sits back up, wrapping his arms around your back while repositioning you on his lap.

"c'mere kitten, let me help."

when sylus begins pumping his cock in and out of you, he basks in your cries of his name. smiling almost victoriously in response, sylus leans down to capture your breasts in his mouth once more, purposely sucking on them while allowing his hips to meet with your downward thrusts-

never once wishing for this night of passion to end.

you thought you misheard zayne when he requested you to do something new for him while behind the closed doors of your shared bedroom.

"i'm sorry, but you wanted me to do what?"

currently, you were standing in your bra and panties, with your arms crossed over your chest while looking at zayne like he had lost his mind. yet still, he maintains that gentle expression, dressed in only a flimsy pair of boxers as you could see the noticeable tent in them.

"honey, i believe you've already heard me once, and i refuse to repeat myself."

with those last words spoken, zayne simply returns to the bed, laying completely on his back as he waited for you to join him. heat was felt against your cheeks, but perhaps more so than your flustered state was the growing ache that you felt between your legs.

your heart was racing when you finally joined zayne in your shared bed, but instead of laying beside him, you allow your body to straddle his abdomen. you had barely began to move, yet already, zayne's breath hitches when he feels your added weight against him.

with your thighs settled on both sides, you tremble, feeling his muscles beneath the thin material of your panties, the bumps and ridges making a pleasurable sensation go through you when you slide your aching cunt over them.

for our anniversary, i want you to use me.

you began to gasp at the memory of his words, your movements now getting even more desperate as you grind yourself against his body.

i want you to focus solely on your pleasure and use me as much as you'd like.

the love you felt for him began to overflow, making you lay across his body as you licked at his hard chest, basking in his gasps of your name and the way he delves his large hands into your hair. your movements become more desperate now, and you found yourself aching for something else...

i won't make a move or even stop you from doing what you wish to do to me.

letting out a breathy moan, you lift yourself away from him, taking off your soaked panties and unhooking your bra with one, swift movement. you hear the way zayne's breathing become more labored, watching you with an intense expression.

gripping at the waistband of his boxers, you gently pull it down, revealing his hard cock as it sprung out of the confines of the fabric. your mouth waters at the sight of his thick erection, now freed for your hungry gaze to admire. yet instead of placing him inside of you, you chose to place the underside of his cock against your entrance.

with your hands remaining planted against his chest, you began stroking zayne's cock with your soaked pussy, making the pleasure he felt become even more heightened with each stroke you gave him while using your cunt. zayne was at a loss for words, with his head remaining tossed back against the pillows as his hands gripped at the sheets below him.

you kept going, the squelching sounds of your slick heat providing the most delicious sensation against the side of his cock, making zayne's eyes clench shut in hopes of preventing himself from climaxing too soon.

only when you felt the familiar twitch coming from him did you finally grip at his cock, slapping the tip of it against your aching cunt before slowly coming down on him. you allow your pussy to take him inch by excruciating inch, not stopping until he was completely sheathed inside of your core.

you couldn't stop your head from being tossed back, basking in the red hot pleasure that fills you. using the moans that came from zayne to push you forward, you begin riding zayne, running on pure instincts alone as you continued to chase your high while bouncing up and down his cock.

and in this very moment, nothing else mattered the moment you became one with the man who loved you so deeply.

when xavier slides off your sheer nightgown, kissing at your inner thighs before using his teeth to slide off your panties-

you were an absolute goner.

xavier was the first serious lover you had, and the fact that he worshipped the ground you walked on was something you had yet to get used to. he was so beautiful to you, and the love he offered you was enough to leave you crying.

never before had you been loved so unconditionally.

completely in tune with you and the way your body responds to his every touch, xavier was seen licking his lips, his features hidden from you the moment he places his face between your legs. you shiver upon feeling the way his hot breath was felt against the sensitive skin of your cunt.

your heart was racing with anticipation, with you wondering what his next move would be. yet you didn't need to wait for long the moment you felt xavier slide a finger inside of you, drawing out your honeyed arousal as you grip at the sheets in response. you hear his light chuckle of your name, adding a second finger inside of you while making gentle scissoring motions, spreading your walls for what was to come.

with his fingers buried so sweetly inside of you, you couldn't stop yourself from trapping his head within your thighs, your whimpers of his name echoing throughout the room as you found yourself wanting more.

when you try to move your hips against him, xavier keeps you still, taking advantage of his strength when he grips at your waist with his free hand. he pumps his fingers in and out of your heat a few more times before pulling them out of you. he watches the way his fingers glisten with evidence left from your arousal, closing his eyes as he cleaned his digits with his mouth.

you tremble, watching the way his tongue laps away the sweetness of your arousal before groaning at the taste.

"fuck, nothing tastes as good as you do."

running on his desire to get even more of your taste, xavier grips at your thighs with both of his hands before surging forward, his tongue already tracing at your pussy lips before traveling inside of you. feeling the wet muscle invade your pulsating walls makes your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head, with xavier drinking up everything you had to offer.

but when he adds introduces his finger once more in hopes of drawing out your release, it was suffice to say that he succeeded in his mission.

you felt the onslaught of moisture escape from your slick heat and into his awaiting mouth, spilling yourself into him while xavier swallows your release with a groan. your hands grip at his hair in an almost painful manner, your thighs tightening around him as you rode out your high by grinding your cunt against his face.

several minutes later, once xavier finishes with cleaning the evidence of your release with his tongue, he lays back beside you in bed with a grunt. you weakly turn around and meet his gaze, seeing the sweat that runs down his body. as you trail your eyes downward, you saw the way his erection causes a tent against the sheets, the sight of it all making you lick your lips in response.

while xavier rests and tries to catch his breath, you decide to straddle him, earning a questioning glance from xavier. leaning down to kiss at his chest, you purposely travel down his body, licking the beads of sweat away from him before whispering, "it's your turn."

not tearing your gaze away from him, you grip at the sheet, pulling it away from xavier's body to reveal the full extent of his erection to you. knowing that he was more than ready for you, you grip at his shaft while leading him to your entrance.

you bask in the shaky tone of xavier's voice when he says your name, feeling happy when he arches his back against the bed the moment you come down on his cock. you allow your cunt to slide down the entire length of him, letting out a pleased moan when your hips finally met with his hips. once he was fully sheathed inside of you, you bounced up and down his cock, riding him with a desperation you hadn't felt in a long time.

knowing that it was his turn to feel pleasure, you purposely quicken your pace, your breasts bouncing in tune to your movements as xavier willingly surrenders himself to you, getting lost within the sensation of your walls wrapped so tightly around him.

ever since you knew of your boyfriend's increased sensitivity that came along with his heightened state of arousal, to say that you took advantage of that fact would be an understatement.

in fact, you often used these moments to tease your lover, basking in his soft moans and the way he seemed to submit so willingly to you. as you both remain within the comfort of your bed, you began to trail kisses all across rafayel's neck. smiling against his skin, you use your tongue to lick away at the beads of sweat that appears, hiding back the pure delight you felt each time you heard his breathy whines of your name.

"mmm, you're always so cute each time your body gets worked up like this." you lightly tease him pressing your naked body even closer to him.

"my love-" rafayel's words were cut off when he let out a hiss of your name, feeling the way your fingertips lightly trace at his chest before traveling down his abdomen. you hum, admiring the way his body seemed to tremble before erupting into goosebumps in response to your touch.

your smile was sweet and gentle, but the way your hand kept traveling lower and lower were anything but sweet. your touches never stopped until they reach the sheets that barely cover his waist. letting out a pleased hum, you pull back the sheets, admiring the way his pretty cock was colored an almost angry shade of red with pearls of precum escaping from his tip.

"such a pretty thing." you softly coo at him before forming a fist with your hand, gripping at his erection before stroking him. his sighs and grunts of your name were like music to your ears, making you stroke him even faster, with you wanting nothing more than for the young artist to fall apart with your heated caresses alone.

you keep on stroking him, using the pad of your thumb to play with his tip, wiping his precum across it while tightening your grip around his cock. when you felt that familiar twitch, you allow your strokes to become faster, basking in the way rafayel arches his back against the bed before releasing himself into your hand.

his moans were chopped and broken, but still oh so pretty as you kept stroking him, milking him for all he was worth with your hands alone. only when you were certain that his spurts of cum had ceased did you continue with your next plan.

your gaze maintains its loving quality, watching as rafayel falls back in bed, his chest heaving in tune to his rapid breathing. with an arm tossed across his eyes, you take advantage of the way he couldn't see you and proceed to straddle his waist.

when rafayel feels your wet cunt against his sensitive cock, he winces, feeling his once limp cock become half-hard upon feeling the way your slick heat surrounds him. your smile simply widens when you use your cunt to stroke him back to full hardness, moaning excitedly when you feel him literally growing from beneath you. only when you were certain that he was fully hard for you did you grip at his newly acquired erection.

"love-" rafayel was cut off once more, letting out a cry of your name the moment he feels your slick heat surrounding him, gripping his cock tightly inside of you. when your hips meet with his, you arch your back and rest the palm of your hands behind you, directly on top of his thighs.

utilizing this new position, you work your thighs and allow yourself to stroke his cock with your cunt, the squelching sounds of your lovemaking now echoing throughout the room. along with rafayel's moans, you knew you had to act fast-

especially if you wanted him to climax first.

and as you basked in this intimate act of becoming one with your beloved lumerian, you managed to achieve your goal numerous times throughout the night.

end notes: it’s been a while since i wrote a thirst post for my favorite lads men, so i did something about it 🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[hoe4hotchner]

Between Man and Dog [A.H]

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙰𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚗 𝙷𝚘𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙺𝟿 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟷.𝟹𝚔 𝙲𝚆: 𝚐𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜, 𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 (𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢), 𝚓𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚕. 𝙿𝚕𝚘𝚝: 𝙸𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝙺𝟿 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍.

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           The sound of paws padding against the hardwood floor filled your apartment as Jaeger, your German Shepherd, trotted up beside you. He nudged his head into your hand, seeking the attention he knew you’d give him. Jaeger wasn’t just a work partner; he was your best friend, your constant companion - though that had become a bit more complicated ever since you started dating Aaron.

           You looked down at Jaeger, smiling at how content he was to just be near you after a long day of catching criminals. His large frame leaned into your leg, and despite his tough, disciplined nature on the job, he was a softy at heart. Except, of course, when it came to Aaron. As much as Jaeger respected him in passing, there was always a hint of protectiveness - and maybe a little jealousy - whenever Aaron was around especially when he was too close for Jaeger's liking.

           The door clicked open, and in walked Aaron, his familiar suit and tie a contrast to the more casual atmosphere of your home. As soon as Jaeger heard the door, his head perked up, ears alert. He didn’t bark - he knew Aaron's sounds and scent by now - but that didn’t stop him from moving in between you and your boyfriend, planting himself right at your side like a furry barricade of slobber and teeth.

           “Hey,” Aaron greeted, smiling as he made his way toward you, but his eyes flickered to Jaeger, already predicting what would happen next.

           “Hi,” you said warmly, stepping toward him.

           But before Aaron could get too close, Jaeger’s large head bumped against Aaron’s knee, guiding him ever so slightly away from you with an evident purpose. You stifled a laugh as Jaeger gave Aaron what could only be described as a disapproving look, sitting tall and proud like a bodyguard on high alert.

           Aaron sighed, though his lips tugged into a small smile. "Still jealous, huh, buddy?"

           You grinned, reaching down to ruffle Jaeger’s ears, before quickly leaning over the dog to place a peck on Aaron's lips. "I think he’s just making sure you’re treating me right. You know how he is." You winked.

           "Yeah," Aaron chuckled, shaking his head, "he makes it clear every time I get within five feet of you."

           You stepped closer to Aaron, finally closing the distance, and as you did, Jaeger gave a low huff as if to say, Alright, but I’m watching you. He didn’t budge from his spot, though, not until Aaron wrapped his arm around your waist.

           "See? It’s fine," you teased Jaeger, giving him a playful nudge with your foot. "You can let him stay."

           Jaeger merely grumbled in response, his dark eyes watching Aaron like a hawk. But despite his antics, there was no real malice - just a big, protective dog who wasn’t quite ready to share his favorite person with anyone else.

           The next day, you were called out on a case with the unit. Jaeger was in his element, moving through the wooded area of a local park with precision, sniffing out a trail as part of his search. You were focused, keeping a steady pace behind him as he worked, your hand gripping the leash guiding him with confidence and familiarity.

           What you didn’t expect was to see Aaron and the rest of the BAU team show up on the scene as you emerged from the woods. You hadn’t realized your units would be working together today.

           Aaron spotted you almost immediately, his brow raising in mild surprise before his usual expression returned. "I didn’t know you were working today," he said as he approached, walking up alongside you.

           "Surprise," you replied with a small smile, but before you could say anything else, Jaeger’s head snapped up, recognizing Aaron.

           And, as if on cue, the German Shepherd made a low growl and planted himself right in front of Aaron, effectively blocking his path. It was the same routine as always - Jaeger asserting his territory, reminding Aaron that he was still the alpha in this dynamic. And that you were his, not Aaron's.

           Aaron chuckled under his breath, clearly amused. "Good to see you too, Jaeger."

           Jaeger, the most stubborn protector, merely stared at him, his tail flicking with just enough attitude to make his disapproval known.

           "Sorry," you said, shaking your head with a laugh. "He still thinks you’re up to something."

           Aaron gave a small smile, though he kept his distance, clearly knowing better than to test Jaeger’s boundaries at the moment. Especially when he was working "I’ll win him over one day."

           You raised a brow, a teasing grin spreading across your face. "Good luck with that, Hotchner."

           The case was moving along, but so did the tension. Aaron, along with a few other agents, had gone deeper into the woods after narrowing down a lead from one of the civilians. You were nearby with Jaeger, keeping your distance but ready to move if needed. The situation was dangerous - there was a suspect, armed and unpredictable, kidnapping children left and right. Everyone was tense as the clock ticked closer and closer to what inevitably would be a hard conversation to have with the victim's parents.

           As you waited, keeping an eye on your surroundings, a sudden crack rang out through the trees - the sound of a gunshot. Your heart dropped. In a moment of weakness you forgot to direct Jaeger and the moment the sound hit, his instincts took over.

           Before you could stop him, Jaeger jerked forward, pulling the leash out of your hands in one swift motion. You stumbled, calling after him, but it was too late - he was already running straight toward the sound.

           "Jaeger, no!" you shouted, scrambling to your feet as you ran after him.

           Jaeger sprinted ahead, his powerful body moving with purpose as he rushed toward where Aaron had gone. Your heart raced, panic bubbling in your chest as you realized what was happening. Jaeger was going after Aaron, and not to protect you this time, but to protect him.

           By the time you reached the clearing, you saw it - the suspect was down, disarmed by Aaron, but he hadn’t been alone. Another figure had appeared from behind the trees, aiming a gun straight at Aaron.

           But Jaeger was faster. With an intense, determined bark, Jaeger lunged forward, knocking the gunman off his feet and sending the weapon flying. In one smooth motion, Jaeger stood over him, growling and barking, his teeth bared as he held the man in place.

           Aaron was stunned but otherwise unharmed as he looked at Jaeger with wide eyes, the realization of what had just happened sinking in.

           You rushed forward, out of breath but relieved beyond words. "Jaeger, heel," you called, Jaeger backed off immediately, though he kept a watchful eye on the man beneath him, low rumbles still emerging from his throat.

           Aaron stood up, dusting himself off as he glanced at Jaeger, then at you. "Well... that was new."

           You couldn’t help but laugh, though it was tinged with relief. "Yeah, looks like Jaeger finally decided you were worth keeping."

           Aaron’s expression softened as he looked at Jaeger, who, for the first time, wasn’t glaring at him with suspicion but rather like he was saying, You’re alright now.

           With a small smile, Aaron knelt down, extending a hand toward Jaeger. "Good boy." He grinned.

           Jaeger hesitated for a moment, then, with a low, yet affectionate rumble in his chest, he stepped forward, nudging Aaron’s hand with his nose.

           You smiled, shaking your head in disbelief. "Guess you’re finally friends."

           Aaron stood up, giving Jaeger one final pat before turning to you. "Looks like I owe him one." Jaeger wagged his tail as if to say, Yeah, you do.

Consider linking or reblogging if you enjoy my work

[chososdiscordkitten]

Synopsis: The faces the jjk men make before, during, and after they cum ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

Includes: 𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊, 𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒐, 𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊, 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐, 𝑯𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊, 𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐, 𝑵𝒂𝒐𝒚𝒂 Cw: mentions of penetrative sex, no gendered pronouns nor desc of readers no no square (?)

(a.n) I wish I can stream the faces and the noises I pictured to y'all while I wrote this. heavenly

MDNI

Toji Zenin

His face when he first feels your warmth surrounding his fat tip- it's like a scowl. Almost infuriated that you could be so fucking warm and so welcoming.

Eyebrows furrowed and squinted eyes, his lips pursed in an almost pout. As slow as he tries to be as he's sliding into you, he would rush it- being able to feel the sting as he stretches you. Needing to desperately be fully shoved inside of you- so badly he could feel it run down his spine. 

I have yet to express this, but I think Toji makes such a cute face when he's close. During the act itself, he can control it- making sure to keep his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed together. 

And when he feels that all too familiar feeling pooling in his tummy, Toji knows. He knows the face he makes when he cums is embarrassing. (It's not, it's so hot)

So every time he's close, he drops his head, allowing the black strands of hair to cover his expression as he quickening his pace. 

Toji’s eyebrows pinch up, unfurrowed, and almost like he’s getting lost in his pooling orgasm. His eyes squeeze tight together, his nose scrunches- barely present but he feels it happening. 

His lips part in the cutest way- bottom lip quivering as he fucks himself into you- trying to keep his moans low. And god- the light blush on his cheeks- so fucking cute.

All too embarrassed to let you see him like this- so he’d keep his head dropped. 

The first few times Toji did it, you assumed he was looking down at his cock thrusting into you. But all it took was one glimmer of his ‘o’ face for you to find determination in seeing it next time, somehow finding yourself on top. 

Riding him as his eyebrows threatened to unfurrow- he was practically using all his strength to keep them pinched.

In that moment Toji was so close to turning you into a reverse cowgirl position, his hands on your hips ready to turn you- only you planted your hands onto his chest. Over excited to see the long-awaited expression.

Toji tried turning away, only for your hand to cup his chin and turn him to face you- pressing a sloppy kiss to his parted lips with half-lidded eyes, grinding yourself onto him as quickly as you could manage, just to see. 

And there it was- in all its glory. Verging on pathetic the way his lip quivered against yours. His light blush and the little glimmer in his eyes. 

But as quick as it arrived, it was gone even faster when he realized you did this on purpose.

Which only caused him to start mocking the faces you make during intercourse. 

Choso Kamo

Awe poor Choso, I hate to say it but most of the time it looks like his soul is about to leave his body. Bordering on ascending to the afterlife. 

The second the first centimeter of his tip breaches your entrance- all the air in his lungs is knocked out.

Lip tucked between his teeth as he slowly glides into you, if his eyes weren’t closed- you'd see them threatening to roll back just from the feeling of your warmth surrounding him. 

If you asked him- Choso would say he was able to feel your warmth all over his body. Feel it shiver in his shoulders as he slid into you at an agonizing pace. Even if the fucked out expression he had, told you one thing- he was cautious enough to not slam into you. Fearing he would cum prematurely if he did. 

And that face only follows him during intercourse. It's even more evident in missionary- if that were possible. 

His hands gripped so fucking harshly on your hips as his eyebrows knit together. Choso’s thrusts start slow- gradually quickening and losing any pattern or rhythm.

I think with Choso, when he's so close he can feel it loom over him- creeping up his back and over his shoulders as he tries to control his hips. Not being able to keep a set pace, nor steady the way he breathes. 

With him, his thrusts are deep and rough once he gets close. And his face, god his face. Call me biased, (I am) but it's my favorite one to picture. Especially when he tries to breathe properly, practically hyperventilating as he tries. 

Choso unwillingly empties his lungs when he's close, caving his chest as his eyes threaten to roll to the back of his head. Eyebrows knitted and a droplet of sweat trickling down his temple. Teeth clenched with a pouty bottom lip, flashing his bottom row of teeth. 

When he's pouring himself into you- his shoulders shudder as he tries to inhale, one of his eyes daring to shut as they roll to the back of his head. 

And if we're talking JJK universe, you know damn well his nose stripe leaks a lil when he cums. Especially when he's overstimulated himself, because you just feel so fucking good. 

Choso’s hips don't hesitate to go lazy once he empties himself into you for the last time. Finally able to breathe properly since the moment he slid into you.

Idk why but I hc that Choso cannot control his breathing when he's fucking. Like either he keeps a somewhat steady pace and has to manually breathe, or he can focus on breathing and have unpatterned thrusts. It's one or the other, never both.

And after, he has a little glow on his face, a light blush on his cheeks as he smiles with a satisfied sigh. Eyes closed- too fucked out to even want to open them. Physical embodiment of :3 

Kento Nanami

The face Nanami makes when he first slides the tip of his cock into you- it's almost like a wince. A shuddering gasp leaves his lips as he slowly works himself into you. Fighting off every urge that's shouting at him in his mind to fully sheathe himself in your warmth. 

As he's working up his orgasm, Nanami tries to keep his eyes open. Practically straining himself as his grip tightens on whatever part of your body he's bracing on to. His lips part as he started panting lightly, a light blush adorning his cheeks.

Even more blushed, is his chest. The rosiness in his cheeks roams down his neck and chest- making the skin there warm to the touch. A light sheen of sweat on his pecs as his nose threatened to crinkle, to Nanami it was probably one of the most embarrassing things of his ‘o’ face. 

But it was always sooo cute, you always knew he was close whenever his nose would crinkle ever so slightly.

Nanami always tries to hold out as long as he can, wanting to be sure to please you before even considering himself. 

But when it's his turn, his eyes flutter closed, his eyebrows pinch upwards as he feels the coil in his tummy burn inside of him. Nanami never needed to voice he was about to cum, his expression did that job for him. 

Teeth gritted as his head tipped back- Nanami tries to keep the pace he held before, but the roll of his hips becomes sloppy- almost trying to push himself past that edge. And when he finally cums, he inhales a small gasp. His shoulders trembling as his hips tried to keep their pace, hoping he could ride himself down, only for his trembles to rumble onto his chest as he thrusted slowly. 

More of a groaner than a moaner in my opinion, like teeth-gritted throaty groans as he cums. It completely contrasts with how pretty he looks.

And after, his forehead still damp as he sighs. His eyes threatening to close as he feels the afterglow replace the blush on his cheeks. Small smile on his lips as he exhales with a content hum. 

Satoru Gojo

One of the few that hurry the process of being inside. His lips parted and eyebrows threatened to knit as he felt you pull him in.

Teasing you for the vulgar squelching of your warmth- that was practically sucking him in. Doesn't take long for him to bottom out- a shuddering exhale leaving him as he feels your warmth surround his shaft. 

Pretty known thing in the fandom that he looks like such a slut when he cums. Eyes half-lidded, teeth clenched with a pretty blush on his cheeks, and his nose crinkled in the slightest. 

Satoru’s eyebrows would pinch upwards and he would thrall his head back, unashamed moans coming from his throat as he pushes himself to another orgasm. 

I think we've all agreed that Gojo moans without embarrassment or shame, Satoru lets you know you make him feel good by just his sounds. God if I can put y'all in my head so you can hear how I picture him sounding. 

When Gojo cums, the face he makes is almost like he's practiced it a million times, like he's studied how pretty he looks when he cums. But nope, when you bring it up he's just like “I make a face when I cum?” Like yes you do, and you look so fucking pretty when you do. 

I'm sure if you tell him how pretty he looks mid-way through- he would probably start twitching and writhing at the compliment. All but telling you to shut up- threatening he’ll cum if you don't stop. 

Unbelievable how the light sheen of sweat on his forehead only accentuates it, and how delicate his eyelashes look as he tries to keep his eyes open. 

As he comes close, the knot in his lower tummy becomes undone- his pace starts faltering, relishing in the warmth you've so generously provided for him. Instead of thrusts, it's more like his hips start rolling against you, his back arching mid-way through dragging his cock out. 

When he finally cums, his hips shiver the tiniest bit, directing them into his shoulders as he huffs ragged breaths with whimpers sprinkled between them. 

And after, as he's winding himself down from the shivering orgasm, his face would be formed in utter bliss. An almost glow on his cheeks as the corners of his lips dare to curl into a smile. Practically fucking himself dumb from the continuous strokes he would roll with his hips. 

Overall, a very pretty face when he cums. Almost too pretty -.-

Hiromi Higuruma

When he first slides in; the corner of his lips curl into a smile, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief at how your excitement squelched around him. Almost perplexed at how your slick easily invited him in. 

And when he'd be fully nestled inside of you, all it takes is one mindless clench of the muscles surrounding him for Hiromi to place his forehead against your chest. Fearing if you continue he might cum too soon.

This man’s face betrays him when he cums. Looks like he's on the verge of sneezing when he gets close.

For sure Hiromi’s hands start trembling, almost like he edges himself but he doesn't stop thrusting. Making sure to hold out as long as he can, his head threatening to tip back as he starts huffing heavy breaths. His mouth goes slack-jawed as he lets out throaty moans from his lips. 

Hiromi’s eyebrows pinch up, eyes shut as he lightly flares his nose with the tip of it twitching. He tries to warn he's close- incoherent words smothered in moans leaving his lips as his thrusts start to falter their pace. 

And always, always. The millisecond before he cums- he inhales sharply. A mix of a gasp and a wince before he's pouring himself into you. His eyebrows furrowed with half-lidded eyes, his heavy breaths turn into louder groans as he tries to wind himself down from his orgasm. 

Most of the time Hiromi ends up overstimulating himself trying to stay inside of you for as long as possible.

If he has you bent on all fours, his knees give and his thrusts turn into lazy humps as he presses his chest onto your back. Causing you to fall with him onto the sheets, getting an earful of his grunts and ragged breaths for air. Not caring if his mouth is right next to your ear- 

If he's fucking you in missionary, his elbows planted on the bed, give. Causing him to press his chest into yours- bordering on crushing you as his hips try their best to move. 

Getting an up-close look at his face- fucked out and gasping for air. His light grunts take a certain raspiness he only gets when he's overstimulating himself. The very tip of his nose flushed and his lips parted as he rode out his orgasm.

The look on his face when he finally gets the strength in his limbs to look at you- he looks almost tired, with slow blinks and puffy lips. But it's full of almost tranquility. 

Hiromi looks at you with eyes full of peace, as though you were the one that granted him that. 

Suguru Geto

I think out of all of them- He's the only one who keeps a somewhat poker face while he slides in, a low gasp evades his lips slowly sinking himself into you. The occasional wince, pouting his bottom lip to flash his teeth when you clench around him with a quiet hiss. 

Suguru’s expression he tries to keep- slips through his grasp as he fully allows himself to sink into the surrounding feeling of your warmth. Letting his eyebrows quirk up in the slightest. 

The light blush on his cheeks deepened in the slightest feeling you pull him in. Even if it wasn't your intention, somehow you always welcomed his cock. Which only made it harder to keep his hips from roughly thrusting into you with no warning.

But Suguru was no monster, even if every single brain stem that pulsed in his skull- shouting at him to thrust and keep thrusting till his hips gave out. He always granted you the courtesy of slowly pushing into you.

And when he's fully burrowed inside, a low grunt shudders from his lips- being able to feel his cock pulse against your walls.

Another one that has such a pretty face when he cums. No matter what is happening- if his hips are snapping at an unbelievable pace, riding him, if you did something to piss him off- the churning face of his orgasm is always the same.

Suguru’s eyebrows furrow with a light pinch upwards, his cheeks blushed a rosy pink with parted lips. Feeling the warmth in his tummy overfill, he filters the light moans from his throat with his lip tucked between his teeth.

When he's close- Geto likes to keep his hands full, be it two hands on your ass groping harshly- on your tits, a handful of hair- whatever. I'm sure he likes keeping his hands full while he succumbs to the orgasm he tried to suppress. 

And as his hips threaten to lose rhythm, louder grunts fall from his nibbled lip, and his hands only grip harsher, no use in warning you he's cumming when it’s already being done. But his eyes are shut tightly, more grunts littered with small whines leaving his throat. 

Suguru’s lips part slightly, blushed cheeks tingling and a trembled bottom lip. A loud groan rumbles from his chest as his face scrunches, bowing his head down and focusing on trying to keep a steady pace. 

Geto’s grip on whatever part of your body he had his hands full with- gripping even harsher, so sure he would leave you sore whenever he let go. 

The best part was watching his eyebrows unfurrow, the way the proof of his orgasm melted off of his face as he came down from a pinnacle. The look of pure serenity replaced it as he inhaled every breath you exhaled. 

Naoya Zenin

Hmm, with Naoya it depends on whether you like him or not. 

On one hand, we have Naoya who makes the most absurd face when he first slams himself into you. Almost mixed with a grimace and a glimmer of a smile on his lips. The face he makes borders on ugly. I mean let's be real here, Naoya wouldn't give you more than a few milliseconds to get used to the sudden intrusion. 

Every. Single. Time, the sudden thrust into you almost makes him cum. And as you've told him- ‘that won't happen if you go slow’ he still would do it. Goosebumps rise on his shoulders from feeling you hug his cock almost too tightly. The warmth in his tummy shows him that maybe. Just maybe, you were right. Though he wouldn't admit it. 

If he holds out long enough, the face he makes as he's close is a stark comparison to his pretty sounds. I'll give Naoya that, he sounds very pretty when he's close. Little whimpers you can tell came out of his lungs unwillingly. 

And his face- it's almost painful. Like every thrust he stutters against you, pains him. Naoya's eyebrows furrowed so harshly, his nose scrunched and his teeth gritted. Shining when he parts his lips in a sneer. 

And on the other hand, we have Naoya, who is too pretty for his own good. 

If he allows it, his eyebrows slightly peaking up as his lips part. A shuddering exhale leaves his lips as he bullies his cock into you. Not as harshly as the other hand, but still tries to be fully nuzzled inside of you as fast as he can. 

As Naoya works himself up, the blush on his cheeks ever present as he feels himself start coming undone at the seams. 

I am a firm believer in Naoya making little whimpers and moans during any kind of intercourse, which he tries to hide. Of course. But they always come out, muffled or in an attempted grunt that he only forced from his throat to disguise them.

And when Naoya’s close, so close- he feels it rumble up his spine and surround his chest. He finally stops repressing his pretty sounds and fully enthralls himself in focusing on cumming. Not caring if you saw his crinkled nose or his pretty blushed cheeks. 

His eyebrows pinched in pure delirium as he unloaded himself into you, shoulders shivering and his eyes lightly blinking shut. Just fucked out enough to not care if you heard the unfiltered whimpers fall from his lips. 

Naoya’s jaw threatens to go slack as he rides himself down, his eyes clenched tight as he feels you milk him for anything he has to give. 

And after, even if he turns over without a care in the world, uncaring if you're clean or need help. His face is littered with undeserved ecstasy as he pretends to go to sleep. The light blush on his cheeks still evident even as he sighs contently. (bitch)

-

Shorter than my usual stuff but im planning a lengthy gojo fic for tmmrw. plus im incuding naoya more often, he might have a permenant spot now in my multi fics. hmmm

[cherriecove]

Fine Line Between Duty and Oaths (Part 1)

Gwayne Hightower x Targ!Reader

Summary: The second born daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Aemma is just as brave, beautiful and stubborn as her older sister but cannot deny her growing love for a certain red haired knight who just so happens to be a dear friend’s brother.

Cherrie’s note: Use of she/her pronouns. No use of y/n. Just made some edits to help get rid of writers block. Use of @targaryen-dynasty's divider i love them Masterlist | Next Part

Despite the usual tranquility of the Godswood, where you often sought solace, the history books mandated by the Septa seemed particularly elusive today. The words seemed to dance around your mind, slipping away no matter how many times you tried to focus. As you began the chapter for what felt like the umpteenth time, you were jolted out of your frustration by a familiar sound of laughter.

Rhaenyra and Alicent appeared, arms linked and animated in their conversation. They made their way over to the heart tree’s shade, where you had been trying to study. Alicent settled beside you, leaning comfortably against the tree, while Rhaenyra flopped down and nestled her head in your lap.

“What’s got you frowning, hāedar?” Rhaenyra teased, noticing the furrow in your brow. “If you keep that up, you might strain something.” She playfully tugged at the corners of your mouth, stretching them into an exaggerated grin. “Much better, don’t you think, Alicent?” Alicent giggled and shook her head at the sight.

You sighed and gently nudged Rhaenyra’s hands away, setting the book aside. “I can’t seem to focus on these same old stories. They’ve hammered them into us enough already; it feels pointless.”

Rhaenyra’s face lit up with a mischievous glint. “That’s exactly why I’ve put my studies on hold. There’s no point in dwelling on the past when we’ve got something as thrilling as a tourney coming up.”

Alicent rolled her eyes, clearly skeptical. “You always say you despise these tourneys. You claim that all the knights try too hard to impress you and your father.”

Rhaenyra’s smile wavered, and she playfully nudged Alicent, who laughed at the jest. The thought of marriage had always unsettled Rhaenyra; the prospect of being bartered off to the highest bidder, with only the promise of bearing children, was both repugnant and frightening to her. It was a grim reality that not even princesses could escape.

“I think it will be exciting,” you said, turning to Alicent. “Your brother will be joining us, won’t he? Isn’t he a knight now?”

Alicent’s face brightened at the mention of her brother. “Yes, he sent word a couple of moons ago that he’d be attending. I’m eager to see him; it’s been quite a while.”

Just as you were about to ask more, your Septa entered the Godswood and announced, “Princesses! The Queen requests your presence.”

Both you and Rhaenyra rose, exchanging farewells with Alicent and promising to catch up later before following the Septa to the Queen’s chambers.

Entering the Queen’s apartments, you found your parents engaged in conversation on the chaise in the center of the room. They turned to face their daughters as you entered.

“Muña, you wanted to see us?” Rhaenyra asked, planting kisses on both parents’ cheeks before taking a seat. You followed her example, sitting closer to your mother. Your father stood up, clearing his throat.

“As you both know, we’re hosting a tourney soon,” he began. Rhaenyra glanced at you, then back at your father, nodding.

“Do you know why?” You asked, concern evident in your voice. “You’re not… with child again, are you?”

Your mother shook her head with a reassuring smile. “No, nothing like that. The tourney’s purpose is to showcase you both as you approach the age of marriage. It’s an opportunity for you to observe potential suitors and decide for yourselves, though, as your father and king, I will have the final say.”

Rhaenyra’s frustration was palpable; her dragon’s blood ran hot and fast. Sensing her agitation, you reached out to take her hand. “We won’t be wed until we’re ready, will we?”

Viserys’s expression softened as he looked at his youngest daughter. “Of course not, my little dragon. We dread the day you both will leave us to start that chapter of your lives.”

You nodded silently as Rhaenyra abruptly stood up. “If that’s all, I’ll be off. I want to fly Syrax.” She kissed Aemma’s cheek and left swiftly, not looking back.

Viserys cleared his throat, attempting to ease the awkwardness left by Rhaenyra’s departure. Aemma took his hand and rose. “She’ll come around, my love. You may go now, my sweet. Hopefully, your sister will calm down soon.”

You bid your parents farewell and left the room, only to collide with Alicent, who was hurrying down the hall. Laughing at the unexpected encounter, you asked, “What’s the rush, Hightower?”

Alicent’s face lit up with a brilliant smile as she grabbed your hand, pulling you along. “He’s here! Gwayne is finally here! You have to meet him.”

[nina-ya]

If you do kid (from one piece) requests, can I request wordless ways kid shows he loves you?

Ways That Kid Wordlessly Says "I Love You"

Luffy Zoro Sanji Law Kid Shanks

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY KID AND THANK YOU ANON FOR REQUESTING THIS!! Pairing: Eustass Kid x Reader CW: Implied sex, more just heavy making out in that one section. WC: 1.1k

You had grown used to the now familiar tugs at your wrist, courtesy of Kid. A while back, he presented you with a hand crafted bracelet that seemed to have no apparent purpose. However, it did not take long for you to realize its function.

“Here,” he said, dropping the bracelet into your hands.

You examined the metallic bracelet, taking note of the intricate designs and its beauty in the craftsmanship. You looked up at him confused and asked, “What’s this for?”

“Just put it on,” he grumbled. “You’ll figure it out.” You followed his instructions and slipped the bracelet onto your wrist. The next moment you found yourself being pulled by your wrist into his arms. As you crashed into him, you looked up at him slightly flustered at the sudden close contact. He simply smirked at you and responded with, “You get it now?”

The bracelet has become a silent communicator of Kids desires. Whether he wanted to hold you close, steal a kiss, or simply share a moment together, the subtle magnetic pull was your cue. The bracelet even served as a form of protection. During battles when a threat seems to close in on you, Kid would not hesitate to use his magnetic abilities to push or pull you away from the danger and you would always find yourself shielded from harm's way. You know Kid loves you when he gives you meaningful gifts.

- - -

Your fingers danced along the curves and contours out of his body tracing every scar, every dip, every arch. Your touch explored his body. The kiss you two are locked in deepens as your lips take control, moving against his in a slow, tantalizing rhythm. Your tongue gently caressed his as you explored his mouth. 

A hand snaked around your waist, firmly gripping you and pulling you in closer against his body. You broke the kiss to plant some more soft kisses and occasional bites down his jaw and neck. Every sigh, every gasp, every low rumble that escaped his throat became a guide for your touch, with the aim to elicit the most visceral responses from him.

Soft sighs and whimpers filled the room as your hands explored his body with a sense of ownership. His own hand traced and squeezed the curves of your body, silently pleading for more. You guided Kid back onto the bed, your hands removing his shirt with ease. His bare chest invited your attention and you began to plant a series of slow kisses. Your lips trailed downwards, kissing every inch of him until you reached his pelvis. You began to draw out the moment and take your time. His fingers reached down and threaded through your hair before tracing your face until they reached your chin. He gently lifted your face, and through heavy breaths that filled the room, he managed to look at you with a silent plea, asking not to tease him any further. And you obliged, your hands finding their way to his pants to remove them. You know Kid loves you when he lets you take the lead in intimacy.  - - - You overheard the muffled sounds of discomfort through the walls, Kid's failed attempts to hide the pain evident. You walked into the room without bothering to knock, finding Kid deep in discomfort, with his expression revealing more than he intended. Concerned, you asked, “Hey, are you okay?” only to receive a gruff response, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

You sighed, not buying his act. "You're not a good liar, especially when your face looks like that and you sound like you're about to kill anyone that speaks to you," you retort, walking over to him. You placed your hands on his stump, and he pulled away just as quickly.

"What the hell are you doing?" he questioned, cautiously.

"Let me help you," you insisted, placing your hands on his stump once more. This time, he did not pull away. You carefully unwrapped the bandages and a small sigh of relief escaped him as the compression was released. "Where does it hurt?" you asked, your fingers lightly tracing over the flesh. 

He hissed and gritted his teeth, responding with, "Everywhere. Feels like it's still there."

"Phantom limb pain?" you asked.

He hummed in acknowledgment, and you nodded, understanding the source of his discomfort.

As you traced your fingers over his stump, searching for the spots that caused him pain, you could feel the tension slowly fading. Kid still eyed you cautiously, but there was a hint of gratitude in his gaze. 

Finding a particularly tender area, you applied gentle pressure, pulling a low groan from his throat. "Easy there," he grumbled, but you could sense the bit of relaxation behind the harsh tone. You continued, your fingers working to massage the area with a slow and gentle touch.

The room fell quiet, with the silence broken by the occasional grunts and the sound of your hands massaging the shape of where his arm used to be. Kid's shoulders, which were initially tense, began to ease. The scowl on his face softened, replaced by a face of complete and utter relaxation.

"Better?" you asked, your fingers slowing their movements.

He let out a sigh. "Yeah, feels nice…" he admitted.

You pulled back, giving him a kiss on his cheek before returning to what you were doing before. Since that moment, you found yourself helping him out with these uncomfortable states quite often. You are the only one he seems to trust to do such things. You know Kid loves you when he lets you help him in a vulnerable state. - - - All days concluded in the same way: you wrapped in Kid's large arms, his kisses covering every part of your body—a show of pure affection. In a world that thrives on chaos and where tomorrow is uncertain, cuddling with him like this became a comforting constant in your lives. 

“Why do you always have to be so damn cuddly?” he grumbled playfully, his lips curving into a smirk as he planted another kiss on your cheek. His actions, contradicting his words, revealed a vulnerability that only surfaces in these moments

You adjusted in his arms, meeting his gaze with a teasing glint in your eyes. “Maybe I just can’t resist your charm,” you countered. He scoffed, maintaining his tough exterior, yet his tightened grip around you silently conveys that he loves the affection just as much as you do. Kid’s fingers traced absent-minded shapes and patterns on your skin, a gentle touch that only you got to feel.

These nights naturally progressed into whispered conversations between the two of you. You find yourselves opening up about thoughts and fears, sharing vulnerabilities that he only entrusted to you. As you both drifted into sleep, his hold remained tight on you, keeping you close and secure throughout the night. You know Kid loves you when you become an anchor in his life.

[starlight-bread-blog]

Ember Island Players and Zutara

Two approaches to analyzing literature are Doylist and Watsonian: Warsonian is about analyzing from an in-universe perspective, Doylist is about analyzing out-of-universe perspective.

For example: Why did the Gaang arrive at the swamp?

Watsonian: Because a hurricane made them crash.

Doylist: Because the writers wanted to explore the world & characters, foreshadow Toph, introduce plant benders, etc.

This analysis will be from a Doylist perspective. Meaning, I don't intend to prove Katara secretly canonically loved Zuko. She is a fictional character, she'll love whoever the writers want her to love. And the writers said she loved 𝖠𝖺𝗇𝗀. What I do intend to do is to show how the writing alluded to Zuko standing in 𝖠𝖺𝗇𝗀's way to being with Katara.

With that out of the way, let's dive right in!

At the beginning of the episode, when they sit down to watch the play, Zuko and 𝖠𝖺𝗇𝗀 share this exchange:

If you didn't catch that, look at Katara:

This is a classic romance trope, typically used for female characters, to signify romantic feelings/a crush. But what is it doing here, when Zuko sits next to Katara instead of 𝖠𝖺𝗇𝗀? What is this interaction doing here in the first place?

When an episode aims to explore an aspact of the characters, it will remind the audience of it in the beginning. In The Waterbending Scroll, Katara steals a waterbending scroll and gets insecure about her waterbending. The episode opens with the Katara teaching 𝖠𝖺𝗇𝗀 waterbending and getting insecure. In this instance, they want you to keep in mind the dynamic where... Zuko is in the way of 𝖪𝖺𝗍𝖺𝖺𝗇𝗀? (That's without mentioning what Katara's doing with her hair). That is strange.

Moving on to the play – See the joke about Katara's characterization in the play:

The point of Ember Island Players is while the play is heavily distorted, it is somewhat based on reality. It's funny and even gets under the character's skin sometimes because it shows them a parody of themselves. (Further evidence).

When we get to the the scene between Zuko and Katara in the Crystal Catacombs, for some reason, it's portrayed as some romantic moment.

Acknowledging a fan pairing in canon from is always out of the blue/baity from the get-go. I cannot recall a time when another show that did this. Here however, it's under the premise of somewhat founded parody. Which begs the question:

(Side note: There's been debate over Katara and Zuko moving away from each other. It's common for eventual romantic leads to deny attraction. It could be contextualized that way later and audiences aren't trained to rule out the pairing. The meaning is dereminted by the outcome).

Despite that, Katara and Zuko aren't in love. Everyone knows this, right?

𝖠𝖺𝗇𝗀 is jealous. Jealous to the point where he gets up and leaves the theater. The thing that kicks off the conflict of 𝖪𝖺𝗍𝖺𝖺𝗇𝗀 is... Zutara?

Speaking of the conflict, I won't dwell on it too much, but the events were the following: 𝖠𝖺𝗇𝗀 adressed the kiss they shared in the invasion, a kiss that went unaddressed for 5 episodes. Katara is unable to commit to an answer. Her lines, isolated:

"𝖠𝖺𝗇𝗀, I don't know" // "This isn't the right time" // "Right now, I'm just a little confused".

Until he kisses her once again.

And realistically, she doesn't take it well. Many girls use this language to reject gently. This is purposely written to suggest that they might not end up together. All of which is kicked off because of Zutara. Remember the beginning: Zuko is in the way of 𝖪𝖺𝗍𝖺𝖺𝗇𝗀.

When 𝖠𝖺𝗇𝗀 is back in the theater, he's concerned about his future with Katara. It is showcased with this shot:

𝖠𝖺𝗇𝗀 isn't angry at Zutara here, so why is Zuko in the shot? A director storyboarded this, it was planned. They could have easily leave him out of it and it would convey the message better. Leaving him here implies that he is somehow related to the conflict, That Aang is worried about them, while both of those things aren't true.

𝖠𝖺𝗇𝗀 not being able to sit next to Katara isn't ship baiting. 𝖠𝖺𝗇𝗀 getting angry at actress!Katara not returning his feelings isn't ship baiting. Katara herself being unable to immediately return his feelings isn't ship baiting. What is ship baiting is how all of this is caused by Zuko to a degree.

Zuko stealing 𝖠𝖺𝗇𝗀's seat and Katara giving him a side glance is ship baiting. Zutara being canonically addressed in a play that's vaguely founded is ship baiting. The former causing 𝖠𝖺𝗇𝗀 feeling jealous, leaving, and starting the conflict over it is ship baiting. Zutara is imbedded in the foundations of the episode. Ember Island Players plays out as if there is something between Zuko and Katara, when there isn't. That's ship baiting.

[svsss-fanon-exposed]

Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 24/∞

APHRODISIAC-PRODUCING PLANTS ARE AN EVER-PRESENT DANGER IN THE WORLD OF PIDW

Rating: FANON - UNSUPPORTED

One of the most common tropes that I have ever seen all across SVSSS fanfiction is the use of aphrodisiac-releasing plants or "fuck-or-die" plants, as a plot device in order to get two characters together. Surprisingly enough, however, there is not a single mention of such plants existing in PIDW.

I debated on whether to rate this as neutral or unsupported, since typically I will choose neutral when there isn't any kind of evidence for or against something-- however, in this case, I chose unsupported due to the sheer amount of times that SQQ's narration references the sex scenes and plot devices in PIDW, and the fact that not once was any specifically sex-related plant mentioned among them.

We do know that there are all sorts of rare plants used as plot devices in PIDW:

"Do you still remember creating a plant that only appears every thousand years?” Shang Qinghua was speechless. “Your description is way too broad. Bing-ge’s eaten at least eighty, if not a hundred plants like that.” (7 Seas, Ch. 5)

and

...the number of mythical flowers in Proud Immortal Demon Way numbered at least in the hundreds, and every single one was at least a thousand years old, and when you added on all the mythical grasses and mythical trees, who the hell could remember all those names?! (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

Naturally, we also do not know all of these plants, so it cannot be said with certainty what sort of plants are included or excluded from the set. However, the effects of the plants we do know of are as follows:

Thousand-Leaves Snow Petal Lotus

"This flower has grown within the depths of Jue Di Gorge for thousands of years. Its spiritual qi is extraordinary, and furthermore, it is the natural bane of creatures from the Demon Realm. It emits an innate barrier that repels demonic beasts." (7 Seas, Ch. 4)

Additionally, when Luo Binghe absorbed the flower, it increased his abilities, likely due to the spiritual qi contained within it:

Incidentally, he even absorbed the nutrients of the mythical flower the girl had just eaten, and so his martial ability once again made great progress (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom

The Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom was also called the “flesh mushroom,” and this name was entirely literal. Though this mushroom wasn’t especially useful for cultivating, it still grew by collecting spiritual energy from nature along with essence from the sun and moon. If you planted its sprout in soil rich with spiritual energy, nurtured it, meticulously sculpted it, and watered it with blood and qi, once it matured, you could cultivate a living body of flesh. The body could grow just fine, but it was impossible to also create a soul via this method. That was to say, you could only grow a soulless, empty shell. (7 Seas, Ch. 9)

This is by far the most well-known of the mystical plants of SVSSS, considering the fact that it directly contributes to a major plotline. It is also notable that this plant was not used by Luo Binghe in PIDW:

In [SQQ's] defense, this mushroom wasn’t reserved for Luo Binghe. Rather, it was supposed to be for one of his opponents... ...If it were a thing that affected the main plotline, or if it were some mystical flower or herb meant to provide one of Luo Binghe’s power-ups, he wouldn’t have had the guts to try and steal it. (7 Seas, Ch. 5)

Also notable here is the mention of mystical flowers and herbs providing Luo Binghe's power-ups-- this is seemingly the primary purpose of mystical plants in PIDW.

The Ties That Bind

This is the final mystical plant mentioned in SVSSS-- and also the only one with a negative effect:

This plant sowed its seeds in the bodies of living beings, and they were especially attracted to people who gave off energy. Recklessly deploying one’s spiritual or demonic energy attracted these seeds to oneself. That was why Shen Qingqiu had stuck to physical combat as much as possible and avoided using his spiritual energy. When Ties That Bind seeds entered one’s flesh, they didn’t hurt, only faintly itched. But once they sprouted from the flesh that was their soil and burst forth through the skin, every inch of rent flesh from which they grew erupted in violent agony. Furthermore, the more you used your spiritual energy, the faster they grew. If you went as far as to use a spiritual blast, they would sprout like mad, budding in an instant. (7 Seas, Ch. 16)

Now, obviously, since there are only three of these plants mentioned within SVSSS, it is far from the eighty to a hundred mystical flowers, plus the additional trees and grasses, which we know nothing about at all. It wouldn't at all be unlikely for one of these many plants to have an aphrodisiac effect, or to produce a fuck-or-die poison-- but I personally feel that it would be likely for Shen Qingqiu to mention this directly in his narration had it been as common trope in PIDW as many fanworks imply.

Of course, it isn't unreasonable for fandom to come to the conclusion that such plants were present in the PIDW world-- after all, sex pollen is a fairly common trope, and PIDW contained a great variety of sex scenes. However, here it is important to note that Proud Immortal Demon Way WAS NOT purely an erotica, porn, or hentai novel. Fundamentally, it is a power fantasy-- and papapa scenes are just one part of that power fantasy.

In the original text, it is described as "YY", which is a slang term that literally translates to something like "mind masturbation"-- but that doesn't mean purely sexual content, instead it refers to a wish-fulfillment, escapist setting, a non-academic fantasy world, where the primary focus is on the main character becoming more and more powerful, overcoming more obstacles-- in Luo Binghe's case, this includes defeating all of his past enemies and marrying all of the beautiful women he came across. The sex scenes were just one part of the power fantasy-- erotica for erotica's sake was not the goal.

That isn't to say that PIDW didn't feature an abundance of sex scenes-- after all, that was one of if not the most-desired plotlines, and Airplane was made to cut backstory content in favor of them:

"And back then, everyone in the comments section was saying they wanted to see the other plotline, right? The one where Bing-ge bravely conquered a hundred flowers, you understand. A whole hundred holy flower spirits who had from their birth never laid eyes on a man, and all of them virgins. Cucumber-bro, how I suffered while writing the chapter of the hundred flower buds’ first mass-blooming! And still you roast me…” (7 Seas, Ch. 14)

Still, the power-fantasy of PIDW encompassed many different factors-- the battles and revenge against the villains and the ever-increasing power level as stronger and stronger enemies were defeated were just as important as the sex scenes and harem plotlines to the overall effect of the story.

My hypothesis for the origin of the theory that "the world of PIDW is full of fuck-or-die plants" is that it comes from the common sex-pollen trope in erotica and fanfiction, PIDW's reputation as containing quite a lot of erotic material, as well as a few select passages of SVSSS which link plants and flowers with sex-- one of which is the passage above, regarding the hundred flower spirits. I think that the more significant root for this theory, though, is the curing of Without a Cure through sex.

In SVSSS fanfiction, I have found it most common that the sex-inducing plants are specifically of the fuck-or-die variety (therefore, able to be categorized as poison) rather than the pure aphrodisiac variety. This lines up quite well with Qin Wanyue's affliction by Without a Cure in PIDW-- and its subsequent cure:

Then, in the end, how was the poison cured? After the down and dirty scene, the girl’s poison was naturally cured! Was it ridiculous? Cliché? Implausible? …But it was satisfying, right? Ridiculously satisfying, so ridiculously satisfying, ha ha ha ha… Look, Luo Binghe was of both human and demon blood, right? And the demon half of his bloodline came from their number one Saintly Ruler—from the heavenly demons of old! A wee little demonic poison wasn’t even strong enough to get stuck between Luo Binghe’s teeth, and he instantly absorbed and digested it during their you know. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

However, the poison itself had little to do with either flowers or sex-- it was simply an incurable poison, which just so happened to be cured by dual-cultivation with a half-Heavenly Demon. There's a debate to be had as to whether the sex itself was the cure, or if it was Luo Binghe's bodily fluids in any form (curable by his blood as well), but that is all a topic for another post. Regardless, though this created a fuck-or-die scenario, it had nothing to do with fuck-or-die plants. Even in this scenario, the sex was only coincidentally a cure, with the characters not aware of it until afterwards:

The girl thought, “Since I’m about to die, I must leave behind some memories to ensure that my life won’t have been in vain. I don’t have many days left, after all, so I won’t suppress my feelings anymore.” Then, using her weak and fragile body, she pushed Luo Binghe down. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

Now, we do know that aphrodisiacs do exist in the world of PIDW, but only one aphrodisiac is actually mentioned, which is produced by succubi:

Even if he was Great Master Liu, being poisoned by the succubi’s natural, innate Mesmerizing Fragrance—or in other words, their aphrodisiac, was profoundly…not good! (7 Seas, Ch. 23)

It's perfectly likely for other aphrodisiacs to exist in the world of PIDW, and for plants with aphrodisiac effects to exist, and it wouldn't be a stretch to say that such plants may have been used in some of the many, many harem plotlines. However, the aphrodisiac here is an ability belonging to a certain type of demon rather than a plant, and this is the only time where it is mentioned that some external cause is meant to induce lust in someone (Xin Mo is a matter for a future post as well). Rather, it seems that harem members are mainly drawn in by Luo Binghe's power, talent, looks, and generally magnetic appeal, rather than being forcibly drawn in through aphrodisiac plants or specifically fuck-or-die poisons.

Everything in PIDW was about bringing satisfaction to the (male) readers-- so, to determine whether fuck-or-die plants would have been a common plot device, we would need to ask would this plot device provide such satisfaction? It could-- but that would also depend on how it is portrayed. In fanfiction, both parties are often rendered helpless by whichever plot-device plant is being used as a means to get the characters together. In PIDW, though, I feel like it might play out a little more differently-- likely, there would be more plotlines in which Bing-ge himself was not affected, but instead generously helped out whichever maiden was currently afflicted and suffering, through which the romantic relationship was established.

Of course, it would still depend a lot on the specific plotline being followed, so this is more of just a suggestion to consider how the mechanics of such a plant would work to provide satisfaction to PIDW's target demographic, and whether to follow or subvert those expectations and tropes. Alternatively, because of the genre shift that occured during SVSSS, it wouldn't be out of place to include tropes more common to danmei, or to fanfiction, in that universe-- where it may be more common to have scenarios where both parties (especially the POV character) are incapacitated and affected. Every writer, of course, has the freedom to explore whichever tropes and plotlines they wish to-- but it could be interesting to look into genre tropes and see how they may or may not apply.

Typically, these arguments would lead to a neutral rating, rather than unsupported, since there is no direct evidence against the existence of such plants-- however, this post is not primarily meant to address the existence, but rather the prevelence. The existence of aphrodisiac or fuck-or-die plants in the world of PIDW would be neutral or even somewhat likely, but the topic being analyzed is the common fanfiction trope that within the world of PIDW, fuck-or-die plants appear frequently and are a well-known, common threat that the cultivation world's inhabitants must be prepared to face at any time.

I think that if that were the case in PIDW, there would have at least been one single mention in Shen Qingqiu's narration of a fuck-or-die or even an aphrodisiac plant-- perhaps as something that he himself would need to prepare for and worry about after transmigrating. However, there is no such mention-- therefore, while they may exist, it is not likely that sex-inducing plants are an overly common sight in the world of PIDW. The mystical plants seen in SVSSS are either poisons, power-ups, or utilities, and it is implied that most of the many other plants in PIDW would also fall into that category.

[sunboki]

⎯ SUMMER SOLACE. a StrayKids fiction

Stray Kids x implied! fem. reader (no poly)

TROPE. friends to lovers (not really lovers, more just strangers to friends), summerschool! au, reader is in student council as class prez

WORD COUNT. 12.6k words

PLAYLIST.

WARNINGS. cursing, very troubled childhoods, han lacks parental figures, minho’s mother passed, bullies, evidence of physical violence, mentions of depression & anxiety, just overall very angsty themes, healing, sadness, comfort comfort comfort — ALL OF THE ISSUES/TROUBLES OF CHARACTERS ARE 100% FICTION

AUG'S NOTES. i hope whatever you’re going through works out in the end, and that reading this very indulgent fic can help heal a part of you and get you through summertime sadness — inspiration for the fic came from this!

SYNOPSIS. It was never your intention to be the one in charge of a summer school class—a troubled summer school class, but here you were. Eight boys in this classroom, all with their individual stories and silenced opinions. And somehow, you can’t find it in yourself to give up on them.

or alternatively :

Eight kids, one purpose. Get them to be okay with one another — with themselves — by the end of the summer.

Eight kids, one purpose.

Get them to be okay with one another.

Although, you didn’t realize that yet. That your Class President position would throw you right into such a mess (or what you referred to it as the first time you got word).

We all have the things we hate. The things we say we “heavily dislike”. But in reality, we hate it. It incessantly grates our nerves, has our patience forming into a ticking pipe bomb, enough that sometimes, we explode. Say things we don’t mean, get angry, get mad. 

The thing that sets these boys apart, according to the acknowledgements paper you were given, is that they don’t even try to be sweet, they don’t ask for forgiveness. Not towards one another, and most certainly not towards anything else. 

Your job is just as you said. Get them to be okay with one another. 

Catch? There’s a time limit. 

Twelve weeks of summer school. 

Twelve weeks for eight boys to, no, not be nice to each other, not be best friends (not even friends), but just to be okay with being in the same room, be within six feet of each other without tearing someone’s throat — or their own — out.

Is it simple? Absolutely not. 

You want to try though, because up till now, everyone has given up on these boys. People that the school district have deemed always successful have pushed them aside, called them impossible. 

You won’t be the next to give up. 

Twenty chairs in the classroom, yet not two sit next to each other, spaced out by at least three chairs per person. 

Your roster sits upon your desk, listing their names by alphabetical order. 

(Sitting on the furthest end of the classroom) Bahng, Christopher - nickname: Chan

He’s a football player (god knows how), who, despite hardly showing up to practices and arriving to random games—is always responsible for their wins. In some way you’re sure that’s the only reason he hasn’t been kicked off. 

Christopher’s an interesting case. 

He’s got amazing grades and passes school without fail, but no one has any clue about his home situation or whether he even has a home or not. You’re told he’s extremely distant and closed off, sort of void to life. He was sent due to excessive absences.

2. (Planted dead front of the class) Han, Jisung 

His record states he’s been sent to the counselor eleven times in the first two weeks of school for disruptions and inappropriate behavior. Jisung has an older brother who’s valedictorian, but they never speak to one another and don’t seem to have the best relationship. He’s said to be obnoxiously straight-forward and senseless, you wonder if it’s true.

3. (Nearest to the window on your right) Hwang, Hyunjin

Despite his popular facade, Hyunjin is regarded as the “troublesome face-card” by many deans and counselors alike. Students adore his looks, but he couldn’t butt heads more with Jisung, and they’re often sent out together. Hyunjin is believed to have a worrisome superiority complex according to the last counselor he’s been seen by.  

4. (Opposite of Hyunjin across the classroom) Kim, Seungmin

Not much has been recorded as far as Seungmin goes. He’s apparently a huge instigator in lots of illegal activity surrounding campus, but no one’s certain. His last counselor claimed he stayed silent throughout his consultation and answered suspiciously vague for almost every question. 

5. (A few seats behind Jisung) Lee, Felix

Both him and Christopher have been reported for vandalizing parts of the school in odd, incomprehensible words like “Miroh” and “Maze of Memories”. Some gossip that they’re secretly a part of an underground gang. But upon first glance, Felix looks harmle—

A hand raising grabs your attention. It’s Jisung, wearing a grin when you nod for him to speak. 

“How much for a tit-pic, Teach?”

Everyone is silent, and you hear Hyunjin stifle a snicker in the distance. 

So this is what they meant by inappropriate behavior.

The corner of your lips twitch slightly, but you successfully maintain an unnerved expression, instead, smiling back at him. 

“Let’s not ask questions like that, alright?”

Jisung amusedly huffs, still eyeing you incredulously. Although, he doesn’t say any more, and you continue down the roster’s descriptions.

Lee Minho whose info is conspicuously sparse , Seo Changbin who lashes out randomly without clear conscience (some claim he’s bipolar, you think different), and Yang Jeongin remain, bio’s dotted in unspecified theft attempts, assumed messy family situations and brief mentions of mental illness that seems to a follow a similar pattern to the rest. 

Stacking the papers upon your desk, you card eight sheets of notebook paper from the drawer, walking through rows of desks to pass each boy a slip. 

All eyes are on you now, and your breathing feels excessively loud in the stifling quietness. 

Lightly clapping your hands together in hopes of stirring some sort of sound in this stale air, you speak as fluidly and audibly as your voice will let you. 

“Today’s assignment is simple. I want you to write everything about yourself.”

Confused brows lift, primarily from Minho.

“Whether it’s what you like to do, what you don’t like to do, your favorite things, your favorite places, books, movies.”

Another hand raises. Changbin, you remember his name.

“Yes?”

“We’re not in fifth fuckin’ grade.” He growls, words booming. That was another complaint: Changbin’s explosively unprovoked opinions. 

Biting back the urge to snap back, you place both hands on the podium at the front of the class, essentially grounding yourself. 

“Yes, well this is—“ 

Somebody grumbles an incoherent sentence, and Changbin is immediately on his feet, chair squealing, eyes wild with fury. 

Second complaint: his flaming temper. 

Grabbing a fistful of Chan’s shirt (presumably the one who muttered), he sizes up the taller boy, spitting wild curses.

Inhaling deeply, you approach them, withholding the instinct to wince at Changbin’s yelling. 

“Changbin, please go back to your seat,” You usher, watching them never take their eyes off one another. Chan is eerily unmoved, though effortlessly intimidating nevertheless. 

The former spins around, shoving the other boy off to the side and resorting to sizing you up now, chin lifted, gaze belittling. 

One press and you’ll have assistance come in and help. You remind yourself, referring to the small red button residing in your pocket that sends a direct call to the other counselors. 

What good will that do? Your first step is getting them to be okay with you, not to mention each other.

No. You can do this, you’ll be fine. 

“Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” He spits, glaring as you back up the more he steps forward. That is till you stop and cause him to stop as well, leaving only a few centimeters separating your faces. 

“Because,” You ease, shoving a finger into the center of his chest sternly. “I’m your teacher now, and you’re stuck with me. So deal with it.” 

Tilting your head, you meet his eyes, hooded behind a veil of black hair. 

“I’m sure a fifth grader could understand that, right?”

And with that, you point to his seat and spin on your heel, taking a seat and watching the boys, one by one, lower their heads and begin writing. Well, excluding Changbin, who’s hands stick by his sides, staring at you. 

He chews his lip then turns around, shuffling back to his desk. 

By the time the dismissal bell echoes, you would like to say you see light in the distance, but the endless tunnel ahead tells you you’re far from even beginning.

Glasses propped on the bridge of your nose, you sort through the papers, carefully observing each one.

It’s a Friday evening, meaning you’re given a meager two days to inhale as much information as possible for the approaching week. 

There’s a variety of answers on the papers, from some stating only a song they like or others more of a list-type structure. Felix apparently bakes in his free time and has two sisters while Jeongin plays piano. Although, a certain paper in particular stands out to you. 

Han’s.

Only his name is written, nothing else. You’re not sure if it’s a matter of his laziness or carelessness toward the assignment, but clear as day, dead center of his paper, is simply his name. 

You at least anticipated some kind of response, like an offensive joke or something, but no. Just: Han Jisung.

Interesting.

A sudden buzzing redirects your attention. It’s from Chaeryoung, cheerily asking about how the first day went along with spilling details about her own day as well. 

So far, things are going well. So far. 

Not permanent. Just like how you haven’t permanently tamed the beast named Changbin. 

And, although you hate such a mindset, realistically, it’s only a matter of time until something goes wrong. 

“Chae,” You echo, the faint rustling of your papers sounding on your side of the line. She hums.

“What do you think about this one.”

A grunt of acknowledgement is heard.

You sidle to another sheet; Han’s will have to wait for another occasion.

“Hwang Hyunjin. Said to be trouble-some, argues a lot, apparent superiority complex.”

Although your senior, Chaeryoung has always been a helping hand—a soul to rely on through the rocky periods, your rocky periods.  

“Hmm..” She considers, seeming to weigh the matter for a moment. “Have you seen his grades?”

Odd question.

“Straight A student according to his records.”

Impressive. Each quarter, top-scores. 

Well, it makes sense for the superiority portion in the case he uses his grades to hang over others heads, but the rest is strange, making it unusual for him to behave so brashly.

Or, maybe it wasn’t unusual, but overlooked.

As if reading your mind, she utters the same words you’d planned to.

“Anxiety?”

Said in unison, you both burst into laughter. Her blindingly bright laugh sends warmth throughout your stomach, easing the droning headache building between your temples. 

Hours you’ve spent glaring at the same papers, determined to locate something, anything as a way to help them. A problem to find a solution.

Yet, each case was different—personal to each boy in a sense you couldn’t assign an overall solution.

Instead, you pinpointed one case at a time. 

Starting with Hwang Hyunjin.

However, his wasn’t an easy fix. As a high school student, it was virtually impossible to “fix” anxiety (if that was even the issue at hand at all).

Everyone had it in their system. Upcoming tests, pressure. 

It was also impossible to really “fix” anybody generally, meaning, more or less, you had to find a way to help them want to help themselves.

With Hwang Hyunjin though, his, stated in the page’s description saying: Cares little to nothing about grades, wasn’t a testing anxiety of a sort, but maybe a tad bit deeper, barely visible without a sharper, clearer lense. 

“Send me a pic of the sheet, can you?” She begins, startling the hypothesizing from your mind. 

Again, an odd question, but you oblige, swiping off the calling tab to snap a quick picture. 

A long silence situates itself between you, presumably Chaeryoung investigating his information.

Strangely, you feel like a detective. Climbing skyscrapers to find a solution to a problem nobody addressed until it became horridly powerful—possessing, now fallen in your hands to solve. 

You refused to let their problems ruin them. And although becoming a illegitimate teacher wasn’t the plan for your senior year, you doubt you could back away at this point, not when you had already unearthed the treasure chest.

Last step was finding the key.

Well, detectives are equipped with a magnifying glass for a reason, right?

…

“… His drawings are pretty good?”

Then do you notice the doodles in the far corner of his introductory paper, a flower, a few butterflies, and a dog.. of a sort. Chihuahua-looking. 

“C’mon Chaeryoung, take this seriously,” Lightly scolding, you sigh, wetting your lips whilst flipping to the back of the page. 

It’s a quick script of things he enjoys, accounts from students he knows or that know him, overall containing an overview of his person. 

Hyunjin gets in lots of arguments with Han Jisung. 

You know that much. 

Your finger slips down the page, scouring each sentence.

XXXX: Hyunjin likes drawing. I’ve seen him drawing at his desk before. 

Baseless information, the doodles prove that—

Hold on. 

“Chae, when you’re anxious, do you have a reliever? Like doing something, listening to something?”

She chuckles, clattering of dishes in the background causing you to cringe slightly.

“Dancing, you know this. I’m not going to Hanlim Art School for nothing.” Teasingly voiced, you frown, deciding not to egg on her sarcasm.

“Then do you think, where it says he gets in arguments a lot, he’s projecting that anxiety when arguing because he doesn’t have a reliever?”

She clicks her tongue.

“Could be. But we don’t really know Hyunjin, yeah? It could be something deeper Y/nnie. You can’t look surface level when it comes to these guys.”

You sigh, rolling back your shoulders.

“You’re right, but I’m still gonna try it. I need to get through to him that I want to help him somehow, so I might as well exhaust all my options.”

You can’t look surface level when it comes to these guys. A phrase truthful to its fullest extent. 

“…Try what?”

Ah, you forgot to mention that part.

“Drawing. I’m gonna try convincing him to give it a chance.”

The stunned silence tells you she’s likely thinking you’re crazy, her only response a breath of disbelief.

You smile.

“I’m insane, I know.”

“No wonder we’re best friends.”

Staring daggers at the papers in front of you, you prop your feet on the desk, sorting through option after option on what you plan next for class.

In the midst of learning more about each boy’s papers though, you overhear something, a few key words.

Friday. Fair.

Aha. 

The school’s annual summer fair, held as a congratulatory sort of event to celebrate moving onto a new year of school.

It’s decided. Friday, you’re taking them to the fair.

Mentally thanking whoever had brought it up outside the classroom, you’re quick in crumpling the additional papers, watching as one by one, the boys enter.

Hey, at least none of them are late.

…Not like they had a choice in that anyway.

And, through a rather painfully awkward second time teaching, the ice seems to be breaking little by little.

Any progress is good progress, you’ve deemed.

“Alright, before you’re dismissed, I wanna let you know we’re going to the fair Friday. Be there.” You hum, tapping the podium.

You swear there hasn’t been a more stifling pause in your life.

Though you’d been anticipating something adverse, this is a downright oddity.

“Uh.. what?” Han speaks up as you near the door. Morbidly quiet.

“All of you, meet me at the grounds at 7pm.”

Added into the deplorable silence, you glance over your shoulder whilst stepping into the hallway, face donning a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. “Okay, class dismissed.”

Beginning out the sliding door, the eruption of voices behind you cascade into a multitude of conversation, your clarification they had in fact heard and you weren’t discussing plans with a brick wall.

All you can do is hope they show up.

Class continues through the week, trying to get them to grow more comfortable with the atmosphere—their classmates, more specifically.

Of course, you earn your fair share of close calls and near incidents in those four days leading to Friday, but seeing the whole group turn up that fateful evening seems to make the ordeal worthwhile.

Quick to move your separate ways, you’re hasty in tagging along with Hyunjin, the boy unusually quiet as you fall into step to his right.

“So.. you draw?” You start, scorning the nervousness evident in your tone.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t interject, nor bite back something as his infograph had led you to believe.

“Yeah,” He sharply replies, eyes trained ahead, taking swift, motivated steps through heavily trodden grass.

It confuses you, in all honesty. Everything about this so-called ‘superiority complex’. From these few days you’ve seen him or interacted (though fleeting), not once has the man exhibited any form of arrogance nor shed of his assumed traits.

He’s shy, actually. Maybe you’re simply gracing surface level like Chaeryoung advised, but certain aspects could be seen in the black of night.

“Y’know, you’re pretty good.”

Despite his lack of response, you can feel his eyes dance to your face for a split second. 

“‘Think you should try it. You’ve got potential, just saying,” You shrug, merely talking without reason nor inhibition.

“You think?”

It’s his voice breaking through your barrier of unrequited cordiality that stirs the air. A final, conversational pair of words after watching him play countless fairground games in quietness.

“I do,” You hum, nodding avidly while watching Hyunjin’s eyes flicker down to the ground below before back to yours, holding eye-contact.

In those moments, you decipher two things.

Hyunjin rivals the prettiest of paintings, and whatever earlier assumptions had been stuck to his tanned skin couldn’t be more wrong. 

“Yo! If you’re just gonna stand there, move it!”

Changbin’s interjection successfully scares the living soul out of you and simultaneously wrecks your intense staring session.

Nevertheless, it’s hard even for you to explain how you ended up competing against the boisterous boy in ball toss, only that you find yourself wanting to tattoo the sight of Hyunjin laughing and Changbin shouting with defeat beneath your eyelids forever.

Granted a gift upon winning, you snag a snorlax plush amongst the scattered options hanging at the top of the booth, presenting it to the him with a smile.

“Huh?” Changbin grunts, head tilted, gazing at you as if you’ve spawned two heads.

“Take it, ‘s for you,” You urge, surveying the boy’s tentative touch against the plush’s soft fur with evident glee.

Still pouty, yes, but you take the sight of the stuffie held in his arms while the three of you walk back as a victory. 

After a quick stop by a corn dog stand, you lean against the food truck’s side, wordless as Changbin and Hyunjin head off their own ways — the only trace of familiarity near you being someone clearing their throat.

Off to the side stands Chan, quietly sparing you not-so-sneaky glances, his hands stuffed in his black jogger’s pockets. 

You cock your brows, head tipped as if silently asking: “What?”

“Waiting for you,” Is his reply, and it catches you off guard at the consideration in those syllables. 

Not that you envisioned Chan as someone cold, but you certainly weren’t expecting him to wait for you while you ate.

Granting the boy a tiny smile of gratitude, you find yourself unconsciously gravitating his way, stuck in an orbital pattern of continuous voyage, indifferent to moving away.

“Chris is an interesting name,” You offer, aimlessly walking past endless booths, people.

“From Australia,” He speaks. Short and straight to the point, yet lacking any hostility. 

“Yeah? Why’d you move?” 

Ushering him on carefully, you manage to tiptoe a bit into foreign territory, navigating rows of traps and ambushes ahead.

“There’s nothing for me back there apart from my family.” His shoes, caked in mud, shuffle to a halt, gaze trained upward toward the constantly reeling Ferris Wheel.

Almost instantly, you can sense a shift in demeanor. It nearly makes your hair stand up on end, specifically upon seeing the hint of vulnerability shed across his face.

Maybe you’re seeing things.

“I’m just.. here. Like I work so hard for a something I’ll never have.”

His nose scrunches, beautifully glossy brown irises reflecting the blinking lights. Red, blue, green, yellow, all encompassed in those eyes.

No, this is all real.

The sight steels you a bit.

After a moment, you nudge his shoulder, his head finally turning to look at you. 

“I don’t think I’m really the greatest to talk to when it comes to this but, Chan, you have to live without a purpose.”

You inhale deeply.

“Because if you keep trying to find a reason for everything-“

The shouting of an oh-so skillful interruption known as Changbin calling your name in the distance temporarily cuts you off.

“You’ll never be satisfied with a reality that won’t change unless you do, with this life.” 

For Chan, no place like home only applied when he had a place to call home. As for now, he was a wanderer. 

That, or inches from deluding himself into a comfortable, insufficient reality instead.

Making believe until something becomes real.

“Do you think it’ll be okay?”

His words catch you off guard, and you sort of stare for a moment, holding his gaze as if looking away means your demise.

For a second, you wonder if every boy’s eyes are this captivating.

Hyunjin, now Chan.

“I do,” You whisper, voice hardly audible amidst the bustling fairground.

His lips quirking into a smile serve as your indication he heard, and he reaches a hand up to gently sweep a strand of hair from your face behind your ear.

Again, unexpected, not disliked.

“Live on, yeah?” Chan hums, lifting his pinky for you to take with a mirrored grin, emotion buried within his dark chocolate pools for eyes you fear to unearth.

Maybe that’s something irrevocably agreed upon.

Live on.

It seems so, even when you regroup with an avidly boastful Changbin barking over who won at a rifle booth against him and Han. Agreed in the pinkies still intertwined behind your backs, in the shared smiles he gives you here and there as the night continues.

“Say, what is it with the both of you?”

Sidled between Han and Hyunjin on the walk back to campus, you find the question slipping from your lips before thinking.

Hyunjin grunts, and Han shrugs.

Children, you swear.

“Constantly biting at each other’s throats, yeah?” You huff, arms crossing.

Glancing over at Hyunjin after neither boy decides to respond, you raise a brow.

“As your teacher, I’m gonna assign something,” You begin, glaring at the tiny scoff Han resounds when you try using an authoritative tone.

“Next time you see each other, try to be nice.”

Another silence.

“I’m dead serious.”

“Y/N-“ Han starts, quickly silenced by your lifted hand.

“No buts. Do it, got it?” Firmly commanding, you leave no room for argument, the two responding as if it were the worst of punishments, wallowing in self pity.

Despite an onslaught of beginnings and continuations to newly opened books, you think the chapter where Hyunjin and Han sulk all the way back to campus takes the cake.

For now it does.

“I want someone to play me,” Han says, bringing the popsicle up to his lips. 

The sun beats onto their skin, warm rays causing a scrunch to appear between his brows.

In an attempt at following your “get-along” suggestion, the two found themselves coincidentally running into each other at the nearby Supermarket after school, sparing cautious glances back and forth till someone broke the silence.

Like fate, drawn together in the ugliest of ways.

Han went first, a hesitant “hey” somehow leading to the two hunkering down on bamboo flooring with a conversation in tow. 

It’s a start.

“Play you?” Hyunjin parrots, confused.

“Yeah,” He responds, fiddling with the name tag attached to his uniform. “They say nobody knows you better than yourself, but I dunno.. I feel like I don’t know anything about me. I’m an alien to myself.” 

Jisung bunches up the wrapper, the crinkling sound rivaling screeching cicadas clinging to the trees overhead.

“I bet if I had an actor play me, I’d make a lot more sense.”

Somehow, out of all the things Han Jisung has said to him, this is the one thing Hyunjin can fully understand. 

Understand that, despite living with yourself all your life, you’re still a novice even in your own body, in need of someone to tell you about yourself, an opposing point of view to help round out the sharp corners.

That’s it. The word to describe it, how Hyunjin found himself bound to art.

Your words replay in his mind on loop.

“Think you should try it. You’ve got potential.”

Understanding.

Art, in its most frustrating, brutally painful form, allows Hyunjin to understand. Himself, his wishes, life, despair. It’s his actor. An ideal perspective responsible for clearing his conscious, a contact lense to the eyes he hadn’t realized were blurry, half-open.

“What did you write on that paper about yourself?” Hyunjin ventured, beaming sunlight cast upon long fingers that peer from the balcony’s shade, highlighting cool toned veins in an almost transparent ray.

Coins cash into the vending machine, the dull cry of birds soaring to the sky in a flurry of wings echoing in his eardrums.

“The one Y/N handed out?”

Hyunjin hums.

“My name.”

The latter’s lips quirk into a clumsy smile. 

Han Jisung, that’s all he wrote. How original of him.

Hyunjin watches an ant crawl atop a leaf, simultaneously swiping a droplet of water from the popsicle’s wrapper with his thumb. 

He tests his words.

“I want,”

A pause. 

“To add art now. To the paper, as my friend.”

Jisung purses his lips curiously, brows lifted.

However, he doesn’t pester.

“Art is your friend?”

Meeting the other boys gaze, Hyunjin finds himself, for the first time when looking at Han Jisung, smiling.

“Yeah, it is.”

. . .

“Heh. What a weirdo— YAH!”

Next Wednesday’s evening consists of a plethora of instances, some more notable to mention than others.

One, getting slammed to a wall by Changbin, and two, getting screamed at right after.

Though you weren’t aware of that yet, not when you looked up from your phone after school to see the boy storming toward you, and certainly not when you smiled, an action seeming to have provoked his hand to your collar, cornered against a wall without so much as a greeting.

“Changbin..?” You manage, slightly breathless at the impact, brows furrowed.

And instantly, listening to the words he spews, it feels as if all the progress you’d made at class—nevertheless the fair—dissolved into nothing.

Back to square one.

“Who do you think you are?” He spits, looking you up and down with a wrinkled nose. “What? You think you own the world ‘cause you’re doing something good? Helping ‘troubled’ kids?” 

Before you can interject, his grip tightens on your shirt, shaking you angrily before stopping again, darks eyes burning with nothing but rage.

“We aren’t your confidence boost, Teach, so get out of your stupid headspace. We don’t need your help and never asked for it in the first place, so get lost.”

Changbin dips dangerously close to your face, venom dripping in his tone.

“Got it?”

Using as much force as you can muster, you ram your palm against his chest, effectively pushing him off of you before slamming against his shoulder and walking away.

Halfway down the street do you stop, not daring to look back at him.

“I don’t know what makes you think I’m doing this for a confidence boost, and I’m not going to try understanding. But that gives you no right to pick me apart like you know me!” You shout, continuing to head as far as you can from him, glaring ahead.

It’s fair he got that idea. Some random student infiltrating your summer all for the sake of what? Their future? Yours? What was this for anyway? Your position as Class President using this “summer school” to make you feel better about yourself, add more to a resume? 

Plopping down at a bus stop a mile or so later, you pull your legs to your chest, rehearsing just what drove you into the mess anyway. 

You want to help them. That’s it. 

Repeating the phrase like a sacred oath, it isn’t until the burning sun’s waning scorch that you’re reminded of evening’s approach, begrudgingly lifting yourself off the now-sweaty seat.

Unbeknownst to you, Chan stood as a witness, watching either of you quarrel prior to parting, you disappearing elsewhere while Changbin remained in place, burning holes into the ground with a furious glower.

Hurriedly assessing what his first move should be (or if he should even move at all), he decides upon following you when the dark-haired boy stalks off.

“Y/n!” 

The oddly familiar voice graces your senses when you look up, pausing just outside the bus stop, earbuds dangling from your pocket. 

It’s Chan, still wearing his school uniform. 

“Oh, hey Chan.” Slapping a hopefully convincing smile on, you allow him to occupy the space to your left as you head home, entertaining his occasional questions, sentences.

You’re glad it’s Chan though. 

“Um, Chan?” You pique upon reaching your door, looking back at him, question inches from slipping off your tongue.

Has anything happened with Changbin lately?

“Yes?”

No, you can’t. 

“Never mind, um, bye!” Brushing off the thought, you give him another tight smile, waving the boy off and slipping into your home with a loud sigh.

Outside, Chan tugs his lip between his teeth, watching you debate on your words. He knows what you wanted to ask, what so obviously sat heavy on your shoulders the entire way home. 

Perhaps it’s his perception that’s gotten him this far. 

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he decides the next course of action would be locating the other half of this division. 

Unfortunately for him, Chan has no idea where he could be. The likelihood he’s home is minuscule if his hunch is right, and so, the man wracks his head for any clues.

Abruptly, a past conversation hits him.

“Have you been there? The old train station below the tunnel?”

Chan, lips pursed as he tries recalling, shakes his head.

“I like that place, ‘helps me think.”

That’s it.

Racing off despite the darkness creeping across star-splattered sky, his legs carry him as fast as possible. 

Dipping below the bridge, his skin prickles at the cold air. Minimal lighting apart from a few white beams paves a clear path to his desired individual, planted in the dead center of the platform.

“Binnie,” Chan calls. 

Only he can get away with calling Changbin “Binnie”, a nickname grown into second nature as the two grew more accustomed these past two weeks.

The boy doesn’t budge, doesn’t reply. He stands there, chin down, hands firmly bunching his pants in a tight hold.

Yet, when he looks up after a lengthy pause, Chan watches his lip quiver, watches his shoulders shake senselessly as he gradually reaches his outstretched arms.

“I.. I keep hurting so many people and.. and…it’s so lonely, why is it so lonely?” 

Without an utterance, he pushes Changbin’s head against his shoulder. 

And they hug. They hug for a long, long time. Basking there, healing there. 

Changbin cries. 

There’s a lot to cry about, a lot of things he’s needed to cry about, things he couldn’t cry about before. But he does. Tonight, in this empty train station, Changbin cries in Chan’s arms, his friends arms.

Changbin’s first friend—who smoothes messy curls down in delicate strokes, holding him dearly close. 

Chan isn’t oblivious, because in those particularly tender moments, one in specific taking place right after the fair, Changbin speaks words Chan had never heard before. 

Problems. They told each other it all. Their secrets, struggles. 

Changbin’s issues with his parents, Chan’s with his home-situation, his internal displacement.

“I know things are hard right now, but we’re going to get someplace better together, okay? We’re brothers.” Chan whispers, and his friend sniffles, nodding wordlessly.

Brothers. 

Changbin is his brother now, and no blood needs to prove that. Because in times you don’t have that family, that connection, you make it yourself.

Seungmin: Y/n, can you meet me at Gokseong Hill?

You groan picking up your phone, granted a mere thirty minutes of peace after your painful run-in with Changbin and an equally painful attempt at a conversation with Chan before your phone lights up.

Y/n: Do you plan to murder me or something?

Seungmin: I’m not as creative as Jisung, so no

You crack a smile.

Y/n: I’ll be there

Fastening a jacket over your shoulders, you lock the door behind yourself, stuffing jingling keys into your pocket.

Hey, a bit of fresh air sounds tempting.

At the peak of the hill he sits, and it’s not until you follow his upward stare that you take in the stars overhead. 

The slight altitude paves way to a more than incredible view. Countless galaxies right above your head, twinkling so brightly in the sky. Far from streetlights, from civilization. 

Your staggered breathing hiking up here proves worthwhile now.

Wordlessly plopping down beside him, you lay back, admiring.

“Do you ever wanna scream?” Seungmin reaches his hand to the sky, allowing the dark blue and black hues to waltz in his grasp.

The twinkling wonder dappled above prohibit a full view of his facial expressions, but you have an idea of how wistfully he gazes into that atmospheric abyss. Aching.

You humorlessly chuckle.

Do I ever.

“When I first met Changbin, I wanted to scream every twenty seconds.”

Seungmin laughs. Pretty.

“Guys like that do that to you.”

He curls his fingers into a fist, arm remaining outstretched. 

“Do it.”

“Hm?”

“Scream.”

He looks at you like you’re insane for a moment, then pauses, fingernails digging into the earthy soul beneath you before he screams.

Screams, louder and louder, so loud you’re surprised his lungs haven’t given up yet, surprised you haven’t laughed at how comical the entire thing is. His body practically lifts off the ground, eyes screwed shut.

Then he stops, catching his breath. 

No comments nor laughter. Quiet. 

Reaching out, you give his hand, dirty fingernails and all, an assuring squeeze.

I don’t know, but I care.

A silent utterance.

“Better?”

He nods. 

You’re next, and this time, you’re first to laugh.

As the two week mark of class is pinned, you want to give yourself a pat on the back for managing - no less surviving till now.

So, it really makes you wonder how you ended up in such a predicament.

Han Jisung, someone you never anticipated to be beside you on your Saturday, resides in the drivers seat of your parent’s car, hands sweating up nothing short of an ocean without even starting the vehicle.

Well, you are aware of how this all began, but then again, your pride wants to be salvaged, if barely.

A bit of pleading on Han’s side about his parents nagging him and a pinch of your groggy mumbling at 9am to end up here, to be exact.

“Look… About what I said the first day.. I’m really sorry about that. I shouldn’t have asked that, it was rude and- ow!”

A hard flick delivered to the boy’s forehead has his face wrinkling up, an offended expression worn on chubby cheeks.

“Yes, it was rude, and I’ll ostracize you if you ever do it again. But I forgive you, you’re welcome,” You state, arms crossed.

Han’s sheepish nod seems to be the best reply you’ll get. 

“Alright, now, shift the gear to drive.”

“…That’s ‘D’, right…?”

“You’re kidding.”

No, he wasn’t kidding, and a lesson that could’ve been an hour long turns into two and a half hours in no time.

Finally, by some miracle, you end up on the road, holding on the seat like a vice, the boy mirroring your panic with nervous jittering and random comments.

“Oh wait! Isn’t the Film Festival coming up-“

“FOCUS ON THE ROAD!”

Ah, he has the attention span of a squirrel, that too.

And if you aren’t doused in gray hairs after that you’d be surprised, Han looking just as frazzled, exiting the car with wobbly legs and wide, frazzled eyes. 

From then on out, you decide teaching the boy how to drive would have to wait.

With July days away (a miracle, you’d like to say), you bury your nose into new assignments and exercises for the class, desperately gripping onto the bits and pieces of progress you’re making.

It’s meager, and certainly not sturdy, but you’ll take what you can get. 

..Even if those hard silences are crippling.

A knock ushers you away from the barstool you perch on, cautiously peering from your front door’s tiny peephole. 

Felix.

Upon opening in the door, you first notice his raw cheeks, eyes puffy and red.

He’d been crying, unmistakably.

You don’t move away when he walks forward and presses his face against your shoulder.

“Can I stay here? I don’t want to go home tonight.” The boy whispers, and you reach a tentative hand to pat his head. 

“Of course.”

Clambering the teary boy inside, you spend a decent ten minutes helping him catch his breath and calm down a bit, not wanting to stress the poor thing out with questions.

Standing in your foyer, it’s his shaky voice piercing the air responsible for your head snapping up.

“Do you.. have brownie mix?” 

.

.

.

“He was always the fearless kid,” Felix mutters, occupying himself with folding the batter in a bowl. 

Interestingly enough, Felix is a stress baker, something of which you hadn’t realized until getting schooled on the correct ingredients to use for brownies.

The topic is Minho. Or, what Felix knew of him.

“I could never read him. I still can’t. I remember he saved this cat once and it bit him. I cried the whole way to the doctor’s office and he was the one who calmed me down instead.” 

All you can do is laugh in reply, the blond sheepishly grinning.

Licking off some brownie mix, he hands you the other whisk where you lean against the counter. 

Leaning forward to smear some of the sugary goodness on his cheek with a giggle, you adore the way his eyes light up, causing his freckles to almost glow.

If past-lives were real, you think Felix would’ve been a fairy.

“You knew Minho when you were younger?”

Felix nods.

“We met in seventh grade. Our mom’s were friends through work. Although, I don’t think he liked me very much.”

He shakes the bubbles from the cooking sheet, ensuring the edges of the pan were even. You slip past him to pre-heat the oven. 

There’s a soft chuckle on his end, and it’s not until you turn around do you see the pikachu mitten he’s quite literally critiquing with his eyeballs.

Such expressive eyes, though they’re different than Minho and Seungmin. 

While Minho has something like the atlantic ocean hidden deep behind those pupils, Seungmin is more of an open field.

Though Felix, he has stars.

So many stars, in fact, that they couldn’t possibly all fit, spreading to his face instead. Down his arms, his chest. Till all of a sudden the entire galaxy found its home in the boy standing in front of you.

“Hey, no judging,” You grin, scrutinizing his innocent shrug. 

Snatching your precious oven-mit from his fingertips to load the pan in yourself, a gasp stirs when a pair of arms winds around your middle, his chin resting upon your shoulder as you close the door and set your timer.

“Thank you.”

“Hm? What for?” Stopping your movements, you allow the boy to snuggle closer.

“For reminding me of myself. I seem to get lost in other people sometimes and forget I’m here too.” At the last part of his sentence he laughs, rocking back and forth on his heels and causing you to rock with him. 

Ten minutes or so you rock. Easy, comfortable. 

Felix gives nice hugs. His clothes are sprinkled with a strange mixture of both brownies and chocolate chip remnants he’d snuck in without your knowledge.

Comfortable.

He’s a kid who never really got the chance to grow up. The one who was constantly told he’s so mature for his age, a phrase that eventually melded so far into his brain it became second nature, gum stuck to his shoe. 

Because the kid that was so mature for his age was never asked if he needed help or if he was okay, everyone simply assumed. Even when the world came crashing down, Felix was fine. Just fine. 

Until he wasn’t, and suddenly, Felix came crashing down with the world.

“..Do you like face-masks?”

You may not be able to fix his crumbling world, but you could give him some good memories to remember it by.

Which is how you found yourself roped in your bathroom, carefully applying the charcoal face mask onto his perfect skin, unblemished and definitely not deserving of the treatment. But, like you said, memories. 

You should be off to bed, already prepping for the next morning, school. June 17th, officially seventeen days into summer school. Yet here you are, greedily shoving down brownies with a new companion, Lee Felix, on the couch while looking like utter idiots in face masks. 

After seven episodes of Gilmore Girls does he wearily rise up, beckoning you with him to wash off your skincare madness only to make an equally weary trip straight back to the living room.

“Do you think Minho likes me?” Your baking partner whispers, his head resting upon your lap. Those unfairly long lashes begin to dust closed, the subtle flash of light emitted from your scented candle sending a golden gleam across the room.  

“Mm.. I’m sure he does. I’m sure he likes you very much,” You assure, not needing a response from his fallen-asleep form, not expecting one anyway. 

What occurred in the first place nor why he asked such questions wasn’t your business, but somewhere, a part of a you wanted to know. The cause of his pain, of all of their pain. 

Hardest part of your evening was definitely attempting to slip him off your lap, luckily a success after four or five minutes. 

Carefully propping a pillow behind his head and layering a blanket across his jacket-clad body, you sneakily turn off the TV, bidding the exhausted boy a hushed “good night” and placing a gentle peck to his forehead before turning off the porch light.

Laying in bed whilst your eyes resist closing, you find yourself hoping he’ll sleep well, hope this night is something he can look back on with a smile on his face.

Felix deserves that.

That morning, upon forgetting your alarm, either of you are scrambling from bed or, in Felix’s case, flopping from your couch with a loud thud!

“Minho lives pretty close,” Felix winds the straps of his backpack over his shoulders, glancing from side to side while observing the area. You follow suit, both clambering to rush out the door, jogging down the street hurriedly.

Seems the Minho kick is still here then, huh.

“But he might not be at school off and on because of his Grandma.”

The awaiting tip of your head calls for an explanation, and a light bulb seemed to bloom above him — obviously having realized something.

Either of you pause at a crosswalk.

“Didn’t I tell you?”

You shake your head, brows pinched. 

Felix pokes his tongue into his cheek.

“Well, Minho’s mom died a bit back. He takes care of his Grandma now. After she passed he got really distant and we…” His tone dissolves, and you don’t interrupt, allowing the boy to speak his mind. “Haven’t talked since.”

Apparently, there’s a corner to this billion-piece jigsaw.

One, horrifically fateful paper lay taped down onto one desk far too many boys are trying to look at.

Levanter High Film Festival. Participants will make a 25 minute short film with cinematography and soundtrack themes made entirely by themselves.

“..And you want us to do this?” Jeongin mutters, skeptically scratching the bottom of his chin. 

“Yep! We are!” You proudly announce, given quite a few confused glances in return.  

As Jisung had taken the time to so kindly mention while nearly crashing the car, July, the month in which you’ve somehow made it to with this group, means the arrival of creative festivals — or, the school boards way of enhancing student participation.

“Uh.. I’ve gotta DAW at home..?” Chan speaks up, brows furrowed thoughtfully.

“…A dawg?” Han snorts, Felix smacking his back in an attempt to quell his own laughter.

“A music birth giving machine,” Changbin offers.

“Ew, weird way to put it.”

“Shut it, Jisung.”

“Alright. Now, we’re gonna break off into departments, okay? We need director, maybe script writers? An idea of where we’re gonna film, song producers, and someone with a camera.” Murmuring with your lip tugging between your teeth, you tap your foot, the group cumulating into frenzied discourse, seemingly arranging themselves. 

And, almost as fast as you blink, you’re pleasantly surprised to find no blood had been shed over positions.

Accordingly — with obvious inclusion in every position at some point — Chan, Changbin, and Han are working music, Seungmin is working on the script, Jeongin and Hyunjin are doubling as directors and camera-providing members, and Felix and Minho have been elected as the main characters. 

You can’t help but find it rather interesting considering your prior knowledge of the situation. Their situation.

Felix’s longing, Minho’s loss.

The imperfect, perfect pair.

“What’s the name gonna be?” Jeongin piques, the eight of you squinting at his frame leant against the windowsill.

The boy hesitates. 

“Like, our label?”

Equally confused stares. 

In honorary mention of the esteemed ‘Film Festival’ introduced this summer, you decided, along with Han’s incredibly distracting tendencies, that you guys would be participating.

Then again, everyone is still getting used to being within six feet of each other, so being stuck in the old photography club room on a school night remains effortlessly uncomfortable.

And with the slow eye contact each of you exchange, a gradual cacophony of “Ohhh”’s. 

“How about Boy’s Generation!” Jisung jumps in, earning a smack across the head from Hyunjin followed by loud whining whilst burying his head in Minho’s chest (of whom looks unbearably awkward) who tries to console.

Emphasis on the “tries” part.

“Maybe.. Lost Men?” Changbin suggests, quiet hums of agreement sounding from the remainder. 

You choke back a laugh, which, doesn’t turn out to be as choked as you’d prefer by the glare you get in response.

“Lost Men? Are we sailors?” Stammering down your giggles the best you could manage, Seungmin clears his throat, attention quickly directing his way.

Seungmin has a habit, if that’s what you want to call it. He’s never outspoken, no, but he speaks, a lot. Minho is the same in that sense. Whether quiet mumbling or the illustrious expressions he makes, you’re confident the both of them could maintain a perfectly understandable conversation using just their eyes. 

Sort of scary. 

“Stray Kids?”

Five seconds later and Felix grumbles, interrupting everyone’s inner contemplation.

“Kind of fitting if you think about it.”

Minho grunts, voicing a question that extinguished the conversation beforehand. 

“Well what happens when we aren’t astray anymore?”

And, although the foreboding tension sat heavy in the air, it was easy to tell he held no weight to his words.

Because regardless of what kind of conclusion they reached at some point, it was irrevocably known they’d always be stray. Searching, looking for something they weren’t sure existed.

No reply came. No one complained. 

Chan typed up the label in the lower left corner of the doc, the laptop he’d taken from his bag propped on his lap.

You gave Minho a half-smile he sheepishly returned.

The more you thought about it, the more it matched. Not only searching, but paving. One way or another, the assumed nobodies were growing, developing into something unforgettable, if only to a few people. 

You had no doubt more would remember their names in the future, but as for now, you stay as Chan, Minho, Changbin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin, and Y/n, lodged in the school’s vacant club room, arranging ideas for the Film Festival. 

Stray Kids. 

You liked it. 

The quiet rolling of his bike gears sits between you, familiarly nostalgic chirping of crickets heightening the darker the sky becomes, dusk plowing a runway through orange clouds.

Headed back from school, you happened to run into Minho, jogging to catch up with him in the midst of his departure.

“I like my life.”

Mid-chew on a sour gummy worm, you cease your gluttonous rampage in order to catch Minho’s hushed breath.

“Being alive is nice.”

And when he says that, he turns his head toward you, expression piquing a “don’t you think so?” type of question you struggle to answer.

Zoning in on the repetitive motion of his wheel, you wrack your brain. 

“Yeah? It’s hard, but I would say it’s worth it.”

His brows raise, a barely visible, lopsided smile winding itself around his lips — chapped but still such a captivating pink hue.

All he has to do is hum, doing that habitual blinking thing he always does to know he agrees.

Minho is the small things, you configure.

He’s fixing the bulletin when a paper fell off and picking up Changbin’s Snorlax plushie when he almost forgets it. He’s reminding you to text him when you get home “just because”. He’s the little things nobodies notices, little things that show he cares. 

Lee Minho is the small things, but he’s also so much too — so many stories, people, places. He’s heartbroken but he tries, pained but still swimming in a whirlpool of an ocean that flushes him from its tides.

Perhaps somebody could be his buoy, somebody who’d keep him afloat.

You have a hunch as to who that person might be.

Bike squealing to a stop, you clamber to catch pace, backing up a bit to notice what Minho points at. 

A field.

“This would be a good place to film if it weren’t off limits.” He observes, either of you acknowledging the “No Trespassing” sign latched loosely onto a chain link fence. 

Biting your lip, a small smirk finds itself upon your face. 

“It’s not off limits if we can get in, right?” 

Minho gives you an uncertain stare, quickly tampering into downright exasperation.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a good influence?”

You laugh at this, laying your bike down to hitch each hand into diamond-shaped openings and climb, sending your suspicious audience an expectant look.

“I’m meant to be a good learning experience, think of this as part of a the process. Now c’mon, climb. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Half-heartedly, you’re joined in your risky pursuit, scaling up to the top before thumping down on the other side. 

Minho, on the other hand, is a tad bit more skeptical, remaining at the fence’s peak, glaring down nervously.

Although, with lots of patience and encouragement, the anxious boy takes a leap of faith onto uncut grasses and stalking weeds. 

Halfway into your adventure do clouds begin festering, setting the atmosphere in a gray haze the longer you brainstorm filming spots, whether that’s pointing out certain locations or deciding on specific scene placement.

“We could have Felix here, then I run in and find him?” 

“Okay— what if we make it like a huge confrontation. You run in, confront him-“

Jutting of metal against another surface redirects your mid-sentence focus, gaze averting toward the sound. 

Shit. Security.

“Hey you! What do you think you’re doing!?” 

Momentary silence and either of you go bolting as fast as your legs will go.

“Quick!” You shriek, the sky dotted in strikes of lightning, alighting into a sudden electrified cauldron of clouds and rain.

Minho is right on your heels, jackets strung over your heads in a feeble attempt to divert some watery droplets from their rapid descent.

Not only the useless fear of getting soaked, but the lingering outline of an approaching flashlight in the distance and the thumping of footsteps from behind urge you onward, scaling the looming fence using slippery fingers and wild adrenaline.

Except, just as you edge over the top of the fence does your shirt get caught in the twisted wire, effectively preventing your movement (much to your panic) while Minho shouts below. 

Luckily, in the nick of time do you manage to free yourself, having to lurch forward and simultaneously earn a stinging cut before racing to your bikes and speeding off.

Learning experience was certainly a word for it. 

“So..” You start, lingering by Chan’s doorway. 

According to a fretful, rain drenched Minho speaking to your equally drenched self, his place was the closest.

“What’s our excuse?” You mumble, Minho scoffing before shrugging off his jacket to hand to you, earning a curious tip of your head.

Wordlessly does he point to your now dampened white shirt, and you can’t help but smile at the realization.

Hm. What a gentleman.

Easing the fabric over your soaked shirt, you just finish buttoning to the bottom when Chan opens the door, cocking a brow.

“Who knew it actually rained cats and dogs?”

“You’re not funny.”

Stepping inside, you’re greeted with the chilling temperature, skin erupting into goosebumps as either of you awkwardly stand in the doorway, Chan disappearing into the other room only to return with two t-shirts.

“Bathrooms are on either side of the hall, you’ll find them,” He hums, and you give him a grateful smile before padding off to change, the sound of your squeaking steps making you cringe.

Chan’s old swim-team tee hangs loosely from your body upon stepping out, plopping down onto his couch with an exaggerated groan.

Behind you, Minho sits on an unoccupied chair, taking sips of water here and there.

“So…” The eldest of the group steps in the room, hesitant. “Care to tell me how-“

“No.” Minho bluntly speaks, and you cock a bemused brow at his forwardness.

“Got it,” Chan nods quickly, eyes zeroing in on you for a moment, honing a stare you can’t discern.

“Y/N?” He quietly asks where you lift from your spot.

“Wanna come with me for a minute?” He hums, and you curiously follow him into the kitchen, plopping on the counter he motions for you to sit on.

“Lift up your shirt,” He softly instructs, and you do a double take to make sure you heard him right. 

“Huh?”

Nonplussed, he repeats himself, appearing completely unaffected despite such a request.

So slowly, nervously, you lift your shirt as he nonchalantly maneuvers antiseptic from a medical container, your brain registering the predicament as he dabs right below your chest, bottom lip held in his teeth while he works.

Your scratch from earlier on the fence.

Leave it to him to be the ever perceptive one.

Chan doesn’t budge, shy away, nor show any reaction to the newfound vulnerability. Your heart warms a bit at the sight. 

He cares, and you’ve known that, but it’s just, it’s sweet. Really, truly sweet.

Immediately upon applying the antiseptic, you wince, your grip (which you noticed) on his arm tightening while he calmly hushed you, carefully placing a bandaid on top of the wound. 

“If you don’t dress it properly you could get an infection.” Chan explains. “Tell me next time, okay?” 

You nod as he rearranged his materials below the cabinet and ensured you’ve hopped off the countertop.

“Lix told me you used to be a restaurant’s chef in Hongdae, eh?”

At this, he looked up in surprise, chuckling lowly, lips situating themselves into a sheepish straight line.

“Lix?” He echoes, and you tilt your head, evidently confused as to what he’s asking.

“Mm nothin’, just not many people can call him Lix,” He explains, padding into the living room.

“Really? Am I just the lucky one?” Snickering to yourself, the man nudges your side with his own squeaky laugh as you enter into the living room.

“That’s.. a word for it.”

It’s hard to recall when the gears really began turning. Breaking from rusty shackles to rotate seamlessly.

Chan opening up and giving you a glimpse of the heartthrob of a personality beneath his once cold facade. Han and Hyunjin able to have a normal conversation, talking to Jeongin more and more about anything and everything.

Maybe it’s the familiarity, the routine that naturally mends. Like a new fridge you hadn’t realized you were so accustomed to until gone, until you look back at what was.

A part of you wants to give yourself a pat on the back as if you were the person responsible for this summer school’s progress. Though, you’re sure just about four hundred other things also left an imprint. 

Late nights spent in the old club room. Arranging meetups for filming spots. Headaches from the sound of a power drill where props are put together. Endless repeats of the same scene everyone keeps messing up.

And all of a sudden, it hurts. Because this is one of those moments. Fleeting. Fleeting in the sense that—as you watch Chan and Seungmin burst out laughing when Changbin fails a prop test—never again in this entire world will there ever be another night like this. 

Felix won’t accidentally spill his drink. Minho won’t throw a childish fit after he gets his twenty-fifth take wrong. 

There won’t ever be another summer like this. A summer in your senior year of high school you really don’t want to forget right now, not if it costs it all to stay engrained in your mind.

“Alright. So..” Chan begins, the nine of you clambering to get a glance of his screen as he finishes the final touches.

“We’re finally done!”

It takes a whopping three weeks to finish filming and editing, the clamorous chorus of relief sounding in unison as your group’s unofficial (though wordlessly voted) leader, Chan, taps the save button one last time.

Your film covers the tale of two. Fated, yet, unable to ever meet. A constant tug of war of souls infinitely bound.

One steps north, the other makes five steps south. Pulled together like magnets even when worlds apart in all aspects, even when it seems they’re only given more reasons to avoid each other.

..Yes, you certainly thought of what Felix told you that bit ago.

No, you have been thinking about it.

When they filmed; those certain scenes where you’d watch them make eye contact. Oh to listen to the thoughts behind those eyes.

So leaden with emotion. 

Longing.

A longing for what was, for what could’ve been.

To watch two people like that makes your ears ring. So much said in the hurried lines, the occasional eye-contact. 

Listen, listen. You’ll miss it if you blink.

How gut-wrenching to be a witness to such tragedy you never were involved in. Perhaps that’s human empathy.

You inhale and exhale, but don’t count for how long. Watching the film on the that old projector sheet makes you wish you narrowed things down to the tee, scribbled them down in a notebook to recall for eternity.

Too fast, too fast. You’ll miss it if you breathe.

No, stay forever. 

If only. 

And perhaps that’s the best part.

Stray Kids places fourth place in the festival, and to be honest, you might as well have taken home first.

It sure felt like it.

Smiles and laughter. Congratulations and many thank you’s amidst a densely packed theatre room. 

Though, something is missing. No, someone is missing. Because in the midst of a celebration intended for everyone, it suddenly comes to your attention a presence has gone awry.

Meeting Chan’s eyes, it appears he just realized as well.

Han.

.

.

.

“Jisung where the hell were yo—“ 

Having stormed through the oddly unlocked door like a madman, Chan stops, noticing how positively bruised the boy is, sharp cut veering across his nose, lip busted and bloody.

Hurriedly forcing his face between either of Chan’s hands, Han winces. 

“Tell me everything.” The older of the two demands, eyes racing. 

Quick to pull away, his mouth pulls taut. It’s quiet before Han kicks the cabinet, voice watery, breaking. 

“Fuck!” He clutches his head, biting back the prospect of crying. 

Dropping down to bury his head in his knees, he stifles a shaky exhale.

“..These guys from Class 3-B broke my bike, that’s why I couldn’t go.” 

Ah.

There’s a stillness.

Then, quietly, Chan shuffles down beside Jisung, mirroring the way his knees sit close to his chest, back flush against the wooden cabinets below the sink.

“I just.. wish I was stronger,” Jisung hardly manages, words barely audible through a trembling bottom lip.

Sparing moments of silence, Chan’s jaw tightens, attention directed onto the tile floor.

“I’m quitting the football team.”

Jisung’s head snaps to the adjacent boy. 

“But why? Football’s your forte. Plus, you kick ass every time your name gets called out onto the field.”

Chan ruffles the boys hair, giving him a tight smile.

“I have.. other priorities right now.” His voice shrinks, hand resting atop Jisung’s head, staring into those bottomless brown eyes. 

He’s grateful no other questions were asked.

“Say,” He begins, his counterpart experimentally prodding his swollen eye, cringing back with a hiss. 

“I can help you get stronger.”

Slowly, the younger’s head turns, brows raised as if asking: “really?”, to which Chan nods, a faint grin tugging at his lips. 

‘Reach for me’, and Chan reaches. 

Jisung oftentimes thought the boy foolish to trust so blindly, to pour so much into someone who could easily let you down.

Yet, seeing the fist his friend held out, he returns the fist bump with a feeble grin, head slumping onto the older boy’s shoulder.

This time, an exception has been made.

There were many weird circumstances in Minho’s life, but he certainly hadn’t anticipated this one.

“..What are you doing?” Minho inquires flatly, slowing his bike down whilst Han, dripping in sweat, jogs past, avidly motivated for a reason the bystander can’t quite understand on a Tuesday morning.

He planned to bike into town and buy extra soil for his grandmother’s garden, now finding himself unable to ignore this strange appearance.

“Conditioning! New year new me!”

Minho sends the boy a mildly disgusted, mildly annoyed expression in reply.

“It’s June.” 

“Leave me be.”

His sarcastic brow returned with Han’s entertained giggle, the older boy finding it irritably hard to resist an approaching smile, pedaling to catch up to him.

How burdensome, Minho thinks.

“Is this about the Film Festival?” 

Gliding past, Han’s eyes widen into saucers.

“Please don’t tell me Y/n’s mad I couldn’t show up, I’m scared she’ll beat me up or something on Monday.”

He grins at the sheepish plea.

“She’s not, trust me.”

“And why should I trust you?”

Minho shrugs. “Why not?”

“Fair,” Han deflates, stopping to catch his breath, balancing his hands on his knees. 

The other boy, observing his exhaustion as he pushes on his brakes, grants him a side-eye, patting the back of his bike.

“Want a ride?”

Han, looking up with sweat wrecking his hair to stick up in wild directions, gradually nods, uttering a quiet “Feels like I’m cheating” as he climbs behind Minho, legs dangling off the side. 

The ride is peaceful, rice fields flourishing, fields dappled with flowers of all sorts of hues on the way to town, breeze cooling down Han’s heated face, whipping his linen shirt in each gust.

Neither talk, simply enjoying the weather, the smells, the sounds.   

Though, the enjoyment is quelled as soon as it began, Minho lugging a bag of soil atop where the younger boy had sat on the back of his bike—said boy lingering outside the gardening shop.

Door bells clanging overhead when he exits, Han gives him a questioning look as he works on tying the soil down.

“..Where am I gonna sit?” He questions aloud, and the devilish boy can’t help but wear an evil smile.

“You’re not,” He says matter-of-a-fact, swinging a leg over the seat, watching despair cross his friend’s face. 

“New year new you, right? Good luck!”

Quickly racing off on his bike, Minho laughs at Han’s shouting while he disappears in the distance, knowing full well the silent-treatment he’ll receive later at school.

Oh the throes (and woes) of summer.

Meanwhile, you’re helping Chan hang laundry in his backyard, having reviewed more of an album him, Han, and Changbin have been working on after the festival. 

The longer you listen, the more you find Chan has a knack for curating incredible music, enough that you find yourself leaning infinitely close to the old monitor of his, craning into each note the speaker procures.

“So I was thinking,” Chan clicks his tongue, hanging a t-shirt to the close pins. “What if we had a unit name? Han, Binnie and I?”

Processing his question in your mind, you purse your lips, wiping beading moisture from your forehead.

“What’d you have in mind?” You pique, giving the boy a sidelong glance, mischief evident on your face. 

Mirroring your grin, he steps down from the stool, giving you a hand as you step from yours.

“3RACHA? Cause like.. we’re three and we’re hot like Sriracha?”

Instantly, you both burst out into giggles, smacking his shoulder at the sly phrasing. 

“No no I’m kidding—“

“I like it!” You loudly interject, bringing the water bottle up to your lips.

Chan’s eyes bulge out of his skull, tilt in his head, a hint of surprise etched on sun kissed skin.

“Really?”

“Yeah! I like it! 3RACHA fits,” Elaborating with exaggerated hand gestures, the spectator has to bite back his smile, dimples nudging at his cheeks.

“I’ll let them know,” He raises his brows, giving you a small high five before officially collapsing on the grass, you following suit.

By the time your eyes open again, you can’t even recall what happened in the first place, trying to figure out why the sky is already pitch black, not to mention why you’re still lying in the grass. 

Leave it to falling asleep to waste your day away.

Leaning over where you stretch your arms, Chan grins, extending a hand to help you up that you gratefully accept—granted an explanation as to how you ultimately fell asleep while he was mid conversation.

Waving him off upon noticing nighttime’s introduction, you begin back past school, crossing by the playing fields in the process.

And of course, lo and behold, Minho sits on the bleachers, watching an ongoing football practice while glancing down at his lap here and there, apparently writing something.

Seems today you’re running into everyone, huh?

Perks (and curses) of a small town.

Curiosity driving your feet toward him, you carefully jump up the steps, sitting beside him without word.

He obviously senses your presence but fails to speak up, simply letting you peek over his shoulder at his notes (to which you learned were for a class), occasionally striking conversation only to engulf in comfortable quietness once more.

“Hey Minho?” You inhale slowly, heel tapping again the metal bleacher plank below.

He grunts in acknowledgment. 

“Do you think I’m doing a good job?” 

The football coaches whistle blows alarmingly loud, causing either of you to involuntarily flinch. 

Minho, lifting his head from his notebook, studies your face for a moment, from the way your nose perches to your parted lips, he analyzes.

Returning to your eyes, he blinks.

“I do. I mean, we all like you whether we admit it or not.”

The statement causes a smile to stretch your cheeks, turning to face him. 

“Why?”

“Hm.. You actually treated us like human..? It’s like,” He scoffs, one brow twitching upward the longer he thinks. It’s the first time you noticed the small freckle seated atop his right nostril. 

Charming.

“Everybody else seemed to think we were animals.” 

Hearing him say that, it’s almost.. cruel. To think these boys simply needed a friend, a person to count on for a bit. 

But they didn’t. They were deprived.

Yet, in a twisted way, it worked out. Because it led them to you.

“Well you’re doing it right.. I think.”

You shift your weight back onto your hands, humid air finally cooling into an even breeze.

“Thanks Min.”

“Mhm.”

You’ve grown accustomed to accepting good things never last. It’s one of the many things keeping your grip tight on anything you get ahold of.

Though, it strikes you nearly dizzy how quickly something so good turned sour. 

As in, what was once near-conversation between Minho and Felix has now diminished into distanced glares and horrifically heavy silence like before.

Asking the more openly emotional of the two leads to nothing. No explanation, no reasoning. Just a shrug when you ask: “Hey, what’s up with you and Minho?”

More than ever with this group had you learned assumptions lead nowhere. But when assumptions are the sole thing to be made, you feel quite like you’re chasing your own tail in this predicament.

“Minho, you have to come to school. I’m responsible for your attendance.” 

Amongst the week and a half the boy had been absent, you don’t plan to waste the opportunity for confrontation.

No, it isn’t your usual approach, but any softer and he’ll slip right through your fingertips like warmed butter.

Back facing you where he’d been routinely walking his bike behind his house, you stand firm, eyes trained to the cowlick embedded in his hair.

He doesn’t move, nor budge a single centimeter—voice cut and concise upon speaking.

“I’ve been busy.” 

“You’ve been avoiding Felix.”

You can hear him inhale sharply, not daring to turn around.

“I know it isn’t my business, but there was this.. time Felix and I spoke. You two had a falling out again.. right?”

Prodding deeper into the wound, you can feel your heart constricting tighter and tighter in your chest.

“You’re right.” He whispers, tone low enough you crane to hear. “It isn’t your business.”

It’s your turn to suck in a quick breath.

“And.. it isn’t your place pretending like you know what my life is like. I… I’ll come back to school just-“

Ah. That hiccup. The shudder of his shoulders, the ache in his vocal cords.

“Let me deal with this by myself, alright?”

Who are you to disagree? Spoken seconds earlier, it isn’t your business nor your place shoving your nose into his life. 

Synonymously, you don’t blame him. Blame his irritation, his evasiveness.

Whatever this is with Felix runs deeper. It takes but a single glance to dictate that conclusion. Minho’s loss, his hurt. Bottled up feelings bubbling over in their soda can.

When so much of you is battered, you hide, hide in fear that everything will be ripped from your fingertips — that horrid feeling of helplessness; forging grief continuing to wrack you numb.

Minho distanced himself to protect himself, but most importantly to protect them. To protect his friends, to protect Felix.

And yet, he forgot to install a safety net around his own perimeter.

Jittering hands frantically reaching for his bike’s handlebars, and you spectate wordlessly as abundant tears streak down his cheeks the moment a glimpse of his face is seen, fingernails furiously digging into the aged rubber.

“Minho.”

The boy shakes his head, sniffling senselessly before you step forward and grab his collar, lightly yanking him up, redirecting once castaway focus staring down to the cracked pavement below.

“Minho.”

Just then you notice his watery eyes and the heartbreaking, trembling frown adorning his features. Stifling tears.

Thumb carefully tracing his waterline to rid of those beading tears, he leans into your hand, face breaking a bit.

“Just.. please don’t deal with this alone, okay?”

Looking into someone’s eyes had never made you feel like you were dying until now. How can a soul carry such heavy heartache? Grieve so tirelessly even the eyes form as a window?

So broken, so beautiful.

We’re all the same, are we not?

.

.

.

Ten minutes later, seated upon the playing field’s bleachers familiar to the last time you encountered Minho, a comfortable silence answers any of the unspoken questions lingering in afternoon skies.

The boy beside you, puffy eyes and swollen skin, quietly delights in an ice cream bar, your own held between your lips in contemplation before utilizing your thumb and index to speak for a moment.

“I mean, I may dance around in my room to music, but that doesn’t mean I don’t cry in the shower at night. I’m still human, y’know?” 

Curious feline eyes hang onto your words, enough of a beckon to go on.

“My days can be bright, my nights could be dark, there’s no limit to how you’re supposed to feel.”

Leaning forward, you tap his chest with your unoccupied hand.

“And there’s no need to try and reject something you want to feel. Otherwise, you suffocate.”

He tilts his head.

“It’s like.. hmm… if I hated the way I breathed—“

“You hate the way you breathe?” Minho interrupted, giving you an “are you stupid?” look you quickly shake your head at.

“No no, it’s an example,” You defend with a feigned scowl. “So if I hated the way I breathed, I can’t just hold my breath for too long or a pass out, right? You can’t let yourself get to a blackout point for the sake of others.”

The boy across from you sucks on the skin of his cheek, observing your extended pinkie before taking it in his own.

“Promise me you won’t get to that blackout point.” 

Another promise.

Chan, now Minho.

Expression knit thoughtfully, Minho gradually nods, pressing your thumbs together before cracking an amused grin.

“Y’know, that was well-said.”

You chuckle, smacking his shoulder playfully. “I know right? I’m proud of that one.”

Of course he rolls his eyes in return, but you can see the remnant of a smile in the lifted corners of his mouth, the soft, flushed skin of his under eyes crinkling when he grins.

Ah. He’s beautiful, isn’t he?

On July 31th, your summer school class officially makes a close, and you and eight other boys graduate. 

A miracle, maybe a fluke or some sort you made it out in one piece. A task proved possible after all—intentionally or unintentionally.

In the end, perhaps there wasn’t reason to stare at each sheet and pinpoint flaws.

No, Chris isn’t void of life. Hyunjin doesn’t have a superiority complex, and Jisung certainly isn’t senseless. Seungmin gets nervous ordering coffee and hasn’t participated in illegal activities a day in his life. Felix isn’t in an underground gang, and no one has stolen before. 

There’s too many sides to a cube, so most stick to 2D squares. The complexity is shrunk so it’s easier to digest. 

In the end, perhaps you forget it’s all so wondrous in a way, so intricate and raw. 3D. 

Right before you graduated, Hyunjin gave you a painting he made. ‘A thank you for motivating me to add art as my friend’ he had told you. 

Changbin still sleeps with his Snorlax plushie, and 3RACHA released their first album just yesterday. 

Han finally got his license, Seungmin and Jeongin attend Sejong University as freshman, and Felix sells baked goods on Sundays while interning at a local bakery.

Minho volunteers at an animal shelter on the far side of town, he also took up dancing again.

He and Felix began talking again too. 

In the end, perhaps it wasn’t a matter of you helping them, but for the all of you to understand that, in the grand scheme of things, you live on, just as you and Chan had promised.

There is no choice, no point, no break to the cycle. 

It hurts, it burns, it breaks. You glue yourself together, even when the pieces shatter over and over. Shards draw blood, but a glued glass can still be useful, can still be worthy. 

Bruised and battered, scraped and scorned, a connection lies within Stray Kids that sinks deeper than the anchor you planted in a sea of possibilty, a sea of what you thought was something one-sided, a sea you once believed you’d swim alone.

Maybe it’s discovery after discovery that keeps you close, or maybe it’s something deeper.

Nonetheless, your summer—a summer of hellish heartbreak and love reaping all bounds of repercussion—was one to remember.  

A summer solace, for what it’s worth. 

FIC TAGLIST. @kayleefriedchicken, @chaotic-world-of-the-j, @minhosbitterriver, @reignessance, @thatonexcgirl, @panbish-1209, @jeonginplsholdmyhand, @neviestayy, @stayinlimbo, @tenmii, @sunoosmainchick, @hannamoon143, @juliettacandy, @c0smicstxrs

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[abbyromanoff]

CLOSER

PAIRINGS: Wanda Maximoff x reader

WORD COUNT:

WARNINGS: smut, Wanda has a dick, fluff, cuddle sex, mommy (R), service top!Wanda, begging, breeding, praise, fluff, multiple orgasms, cockwarming, think that’s all!

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Wanda watched the clock slowly ticking away as she lay in bed beside your sleeping body. It wasn’t often that she couldn’t sleep, she was usually the first to fall into a slumber. But tonight was different.

You had been teasing her all day, walking around in loose clothing that allowed her to see everything. When you went to the store together for a few groceries, she would stare down the wandering eyes until they were too scared to be in her presence.

You had complained about your bra since you put it on. And instead of grabbing a new pair, you decided to just go without. It wasn’t like you did it on purpose, but it’s not like you missed the bulge growing in your girlfriend's pants either.

She was too scared to say anything, to ask you for what she wanted. She always had been. She would leave it up to you to make the first move because she was ‘too shy’ as she put it. But you wanted to break those boundaries and have her desperate enough to fall to her knees in front of you.

“Y/N? You awake?” When she received no response, she huffed. Her lips formed into a pout while she continued to toss and turn. Your back was facing her and, similar to earlier, you chose to wear practically nothing.

All you had on was a long, short-sleeve shirt you had taken from Wanda. It was too big for her too, so you hoped she didn’t notice when you took it, but she always did.

Her arms loosely and softly swung around your waist, she was careful enough not to wake you. She then pressed her front against your backside in hopes to find comfort, but it only caused more discomfort in her crotch. She stuck her head in between your shoulder and neck, the smell of your shampoo filling her senses.

She subconsciously rutted her hips into you, feeling the curve of your ass press against her straining cock. She dragged her free arm down to her boxers and cupped her length, shuddering as she imagined it was your own hand. Or better yet, your warm walls wrapped around her.

She knew you would be tight, you always were. And the more she thought about it the harder it became to resist touching you. She finally gave in, letting her hand find its way to your clit as she rubbed small circles.

She promised herself it would just be a quick touch, but that quick touch ended up with her grinding into you as she fingered your tight hole. You were coming in and out of your sleep as you felt a fiery sensation down below.

“Mm, Wanda? Baby, what are you- oh,” You mumbled when a second finger prodded at your entrance.

“I’m sorry, mommy, but I’m so hard. ‘M sorry, I-I promise I’ll make you feel good, please?” You couldn’t respond as the only noises that escaped were quiet moans.

“Fuck, that’s it, stretch mommy out, baby.” You were guiding your body on her fingers when she curled them, hitting that spot deep inside of you that had you screaming.

“S-shit, right there! Oh, God, keep going, you’re gonna make me cum.” You were fully awake by now as Wanda continued to whine behind you. You shushed her as you chased your high, your jaw slacking as she increased her speed.

“Am I doing a good job, mommy?” She quietly asked, fear evident in her tone. You nodded quickly while the coil in your stomach tightened more and more until you were about to tip over the edge.

There was no warning when Wanda felt her fingers being soaked with your juices. Due to you not facing her, you weren’t able to see the giddy smile she had planted on her face. Knowing that she was the cause of your orgasm always caused a great sense of pride to overcome her, it made her feel complete, like she succeeded.

“You did so well, Wanda, such a good girl you are.” She blushed at the praise, hesitantly grabbing your hand and guiding it to her crotch.

“Please, you’ve been teasing me all day. I tried fixing it myself but it wasn’t the same, please, I need you.” She rubbed herself against your palm in hopes to create relief, but it only caused her cock to drool more of her pre-cum.

“Aww, why didn’t you tell me, love? You know I’d gladly help you if you just asked.” You maneuvered so you were able to see your girlfriend, and you couldn’t stop the smile that arose when picking up on her flushed-out face. She was nearly panting when you slowly slid down her boxers, letting her length be set free and slap against her stomach.

“Oh my, I wish you would’ve told me how bad it was, I hate to see my baby suffer like this.” You pouted, running your thumb across her cheek soothingly. In all honesty, you did know how bad it had gotten, you felt it before you fell asleep. But it was all a trick to force her to speak for what she wanted instead of cowering down and letting herself be stuck in pain.

“I’m sorry..” She whispered under her breath, but you still caught it.

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart, mommy just wants you to speak up, okay?” You ran her tip across your folds, stopping at your entrance.

“Now, can you tell me what you want, sweet girl?” She led you to turn around, your eyes now facing the wall as you were restricted from seeing her great beauty. Even if you wanted her to speak her mind about what she hoped for, you were just as happy with her unworded demands.

“Can I?” She asked with uncertainty, and before you could come up with a response, you felt her dipping inside of you, grasping onto your warmth as if it were to leave her.

“I- fuck, you feel so good, could be in you forever.” She mumbled, apologizing whenever you winced from her size. She was trying her best to ease into you, to not let you feel the burning pain in your core. But it was impeccably difficult when she had been thriving off of the thought of you all day. All she wanted was to feel you, and even with your close proximity, it still wasn’t enough for her.

“Baby, you- you can’t get any closer than this.” You chuckled, only to be interrupted by a moan from deep in your chest.

“I know, y-you just feel so good, mommy. Can I move yet?” She asked, following off with a small plead in her alluring yet soft tone. You nodded, digging your nails into the arm that displayed itself over your chest, forcing themselves not to touch you. You knew she was too afraid to ask, so you instead brought her hand to your breast where it had been begging to rest. You felt her hips involuntarily speed up, looking down to notice a visible bulge resting upon your womb.

“You see that, Wands? You see how well you please your mommy, hm?” She bit her lip and smiled mischievously, reviling in your gasp when she tweaked your sore nipples.

You could tell the more she displayed her sloppy movements that she was close, she had been since you watched her cock leak for you. But you also knew she wouldn’t allow herself to release if you hadn’t. She wanted you to cum on her cock, feeling you on her fingers wasn’t enough. She needed more.

“Please tell me you’re close, I-I need to feel you. I need to feel you clench around me when you cum. Please…please tell me I’m doing good.” She begged, and if it wasn’t for the intimate position you shared, she would’ve been embarrassed for herself. It’s not that she didn’t want it, but she didn’t know how to express what exactly she was wanting from you.

“Yeah? You like knowing you’re my good girl?” She tightened her grip around you, nearly sending herself over the edge when she felt you clench around her.

“There we go, you’re doing so well. Mommy’s so happy to have such a good girl, baby.” She smiled to herself and let her lips suck on the skin of your neck.

“Listen, darling, listen to how wet I am for you.” You could both hear the sloshing of your juices as she thrusted in and out of your hole. She thrived off of the knowledge that you needed her just as much as she did you.

You could feel your approaching orgasm caving in on you, it was impossible to ignore. Wanda was too busy soaking in your pleasure to focus on herself, she didn’t even notice she had finished until you mentioned it.

“Fill me up, Wands, mhm, good girl, good fucking girl you are.” Her movements stilled, causing you to be left high and dry until you reached down to toy with your clit.

“I’m sorry, m-mommy…please don’t be mad at me.” She breathed out, disappointment lingering inside of her when she realized she had failed. She continued to toy with your breasts in hopes it would bring some sort of pleasure, her hips instantly following her movements from before.

“Wanda, Wanda, Wanda!” You yelled, making a mental note to find an excuse to tell the neighbors when they asked who was making so much noise and why, you already had too many complaints piling up.

She watched with hooded eyes as you soaked her cock, your liquids mixing as her orgasm painted your walls white. You felt waves crashing down on you as you panted heavily, your eyes finally being able to open as you calmed yourself.

“Wanda? Wanda, y-you need to pull out.” You told her after moments of feeling her stilled inside of you. Her whines in protest were enough to convince you to let her win just this once, fulfilling her dreams of keeping you full of her all night.

“Just this night? I promise I will in the morning, you’re just so warm.” You chuckled dryly and eventually nodded along, it only took a few more minutes before she was passed out behind you. Now she was the one sleeping, and you were left with her cock remaining deep inside of you, with every small gesture causing you to lowly moan.

You didn’t know how you were supposed to sleep like this, cum coating your thighs and slowly leaking from your hole, but you’d find a way.

[eroselless]

PATO - FOUR

series masterlist | part 2 | part 3

[charles leclerc x reader, carlos sainz x reader]

warnings: pregnancy, insecurities, mentions of sex

note: part 4! We’re jumping back this time! Some more backstory is developed here. I thought I was going to be able to put in some sexy time for you guys but it kept getting longer and longer and I didn’t want it to drag on for too long. Hopefully soon though! Happy reading <3

SPAIN, MAY 2023

2nd trimester/month 6/week 24

You stare at your phone, a sour look on your face. It feels like he is doing it on purpose. Or at least, it seems like the universe has it out for you. You hold your breath as you look through the photos, gnawing at your lip as you do so. Their blissed-out faces are so obvious, creating a sinking feeling in your stomach. Charles and Alexandra are on his boat in Italy, captured by the paparazzi. In the first picture, Alexandra lies on her back, her head turned to the side, while Charles hovers over her, placing a kiss on her lips as he grips the side of her face. You see that he is wearing the shorts you gifted him for a trip you took long before everything began to fall apart. Like turning on a movie, you see the memory playing behind your closing eyelids. You trace your fingers over the bow of your lips as if to further summon the scene from the back of your mind.

You see yourself tangled in the hotel sheets one bright morning, gasping as Charles loses himself between your thighs. His striped bathing suit is in your line of view as you writhe under his touch. It's strung up just beyond the open bathroom door, still wet. You still feel the ghost of his touch embedded in your skin as if the healed marks left behind by his lips are still fresh. Purple and red, his tongue tracing over his work, soothing your aching flesh. Your eyes snap open, halting the memory from continuing.

Your eyes float back down to your screen, looking at the next picture. The next image shows Alexandra standing, lips pursed and pressed tightly against Charles, her hands gripping the robe he wears. She is clad in a sleek swimsuit that further accentuates her slim frame, dipping low in the back to reveal smooth, flawless skin, and cutting high at the hips to emphasize her long, toned legs. You turn to the mirror that stands a few feet away from your bed, your phone suddenly forgotten on the sheets.

Letting out a shaky breath, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and pull yourself to your feet. You tug lightly at the t-shirt you wear, your tummy protruding out a little more. Your hands smooth over it, caressing it tenderly. Rubbing at the fabric, another memory illuminates your mind.

“Have you seen my –” Charles freezes in his tracks as he moves into your shared kitchen, clad in only a pair of shorts. His eyes travel over your frame as you turn from your spot at the fridge, hands full of ingredients for breakfast. Your hair is tousled and pulled into a loose bun. “Your what, mon coeur?” you ask, cracking some eggs into a metal bowl.

He shakes his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “Never mind,” he chuckles, circling the kitchen island that separates you to plant a heated kiss on your lips. You lean into him, pressing yourself to his chest as he pulls the air from your lungs. Hands moving over his shoulders, you fiddle with the hair at the base of his neck. Tugging teasingly at the hem of the shirt, he pulls away, a smirk still evident on his face.

“It looks better on you anyway.”

You pull it off in frustration, tossing it to the other side of the room. Leaving you standing in small shorts and a sports bra, you examine yourself in the mirror.

You had noticed the changes before, but the increasing volume of photos of Charles and the very beautiful Alexandra couldn’t help but make your skin crawl and feel uncomfortable. It was a feeling you couldn’t quite place, bubbling deep within you. Those stretch marks used to be smaller; you could fit into those jeans a week ago; why can’t I fucking tie my shoes?

The door creaks open before the tears threaten to spill over, Ines peeking in. “Mamita, pensé que todavía estabas tomando tu siesta,” she says, her expression puzzled. I thought you were still taking your nap. You shakily inhale while pulling a discarded sweater over your head.

“I just have a lot on my mind,” you reply, dismissing the worry in her voice. She wraps her arms around you, rocking slightly as she does. She pulls away, giving you a dopey smile. “Come, let's have a little bocadito before lunch," she suggests softly, not prying but offering comfort through her presence. Snack. You nod, wiping at your waterline as she guides you out of your bedroom and into the kitchen.

You settle at the table, mind trying to swat away the thoughts still buzzing in your head.

“You know, querida,” she begins, glancing over at you as she lifts mugs of coffee from the counter and brings them to the table. “You haven’t been out in a few days. Didn’t you mention running into an old friend the other day?”

You glance up, meeting her eyes, and a gentle smile plays on her lips. “Oh, you mean Carlos? Yeah, while getting your groceries.”

She nods, smile widening. “You should give him a call and see what he’s up to.” She shrugs, a glint in her eye you don’t yet recognize. “It’d be nice to catch up and have some fun while you’re at it.”

You hesitate for a moment, suddenly not sure if you should take him up on his offer and ask to see him. You chew at the side of your cheek before sighing and giving in. Nodding, you reach for your phone. “Alright, I’ll call him.”

Your finger hovers over his contact number as nerves seem to ripple through your body. When you press it, it rings a few times before he picks up, answering. His voice is gruff like he had only just woken up from a nap, just like the one you’d been trying to take. It sounds cheerful nonetheless, warm and inviting.

“Hey! How are you?” He greets. You can’t help the soft smile that blooms on your face.

“Hola, tú. Are you busy today? Maybe you could show me around? I’ve been in this town for a while, but I still don’t know much about where to go to have fun here.” You’re picking at your nails as you wait for him to speak, anticipation building in you. Hey, you.

It’s like you can hear his smile from his voice as it sounds through your phone. Carlos chuckles. “Claro que sí. How about I come to pick you up, and we can spend the afternoon together? I know just the place.” Of course.

He gives you an hour to get ready before he arrives at your aunt’s house. He comes to the door, greeting her with a kiss on each cheek and a bear hug. When you go to leave, she raises one eyebrow at you, that twinkle in her eye returning. You smile, as you close the door behind you and make your way to Carlos’s awaiting car.

He opens the door for you, waits for you to buckle in, and the two of you make your way down the road with the promise of a quick walk and a picnic.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The sun hangs lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the path you trudge on. You feel yourself growing warm as you walk next to Carlos.

“You said this would be an easy walk,” you tease, sweat beginning to bead on your forehead. “I think your definition of easy and mine are very different.”

He lets out a chuckle, nudging you playfully. “Ya vamos a llegar, no te preocupes.” We’re almost there, don’t worry.

You crinkle your face at him, letting out a huff, and he sticks out his tongue teasingly. He’s right though, as not fifteen steps later, he pulls off the path into a wide glade. The view is breathtaking as you wander further into the green grass. There are clusters of flowers spread out through the glade and tall trees that provide shade from the sun. “Look at this place, though. Totally worth it, right?”

Carlos throws a blanket over a spot under a tree before placing the basket on the ground. He hesitates as he goes to sit down, spotting you struggling to sit on your own.

“Espera, espera,” he says, clambering over to you. Wait, wait. He links his fingers with yours, gesturing for you to start sinking down to the ground. You do as he says and settle comfortably on your spot on the blanket. “There we go,” you mumble quietly, a little breathless.

Sitting down, Carlos begins pulling out an assortment of sandwiches, fruits, and a bottle of water. He extends his arm toward you, a sandwich sitting in his hand. You accept it with a smile, biting into it.

“So,” he begins, following your lead and taking a bite of his sandwich, “how have you been adjusting to life here?”

You take a moment to chew and swallow before replying, almost timidly. “It’s been…interesting,” you say, leaning back on your free hand. “It's so different from what I’m used to but in a good way. Sometimes I find myself missing the constant movement of Monaco, the noise, the rush. But it’s nice to hear the silence. There are things I miss more than others, some I don’t so much.”

“¿Como qué?” he asks, the question slipping out before he can really think it through. Like what? He regrets it as soon as he lets it slip from his lips as if he already knows exactly what you’re going to say. His eyes soften at you before speaking again. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. I’m just curious, that’s all."

You hesitate for a moment, your gaze shifting to the blanket beneath you. There's a sudden feeling of nervousness that settles over you. You’re unsure about opening up to Carlos. He wasn’t a stranger but he wasn’t someone you were used to confiding in regularly either. You remembered the times you’d seen him at the garage, your casual conversations, the friendly banter. He had always been kind, approachable. But this was different.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassure him. “I guess it’s a little complicated,” you say slowly. “Sure, there were many times when I was by myself, but being in Monaco felt like Charles was anchored to me, that he would eventually miss me and come home. I miss that.” You can feel a lump in your throat as you explain. “When the times were good, we could do anything and be content with simply each other’s presence. I thought we were happy.”

Carlos watches as you swallow thickly, his big brown eyes offering an understanding gaze. He’d always seen you as a strong woman, standing by Charles’s side as a pillar; someone calm and quiet. But here he could see a different side, tender and chipped, broken in some spots. He reaches for your arm, squeezing gently. “It sounds like you miss that connection then, the innocent intimacy.”

You nod, eyes glazed over slightly. “Yeah, I guess I do. It’s hard to let go of something that was such a big part of my life. Especially when I see... when I see Charles moving on so easily. It makes me question a lot of things." Your hand goes to your belly, fingers rubbing at it tenderly. There’s that feeling again, from earlier when you stood face-to-face with yourself.

Carlos’s hand still sits on your arm, his touch reassuring. “And that’s completely normal, you went through so much together. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to move on and find your own happiness.”

You bring your eyes up to his, locking with his warm brown eyes. There’s a sparkle in them that makes you feel seen and understood. Something that seemed to fade between you and Charles as you neared the end of your relationship. “Thanks, Carlito,” you say, teasing him with a nickname you’d come to hear from his father once or twice in the garage.

You smile at him, suddenly noticing how good he looks under the light of the setting sun. Just like how he's seeing a new side of you, you can see a different side to him. He looks relaxed as he sits under the tree with you. He's not as stoic as he looked all those times you saw him before every race, and his smile is more genuine than the one he uses with most of the general public. His hair is messy, falling over his forehead and curling upwards behind his ears. He’s wearing a loose white T-shirt that only pulls tight over his wide shoulders. You meet his eyes, cheeks feeling hot as he catches you shamelessly looking him over. You clear your throat, tearing your eyes away from him.

“Enough about me, what about you? Your love life is probably more interesting than mine.” Carlos shifts lightly, his tone turning contemplative. “Well, there is this one girl,” he begins. “She's great, really. Attractive, smart, we get along really well…” his voice trails off slightly. “But I don't know. It feels like there's something missing, we don't quite have that deep connection, that spark.”

You nod, understanding. “It can be hard to find that connection. Sometimes it's there and sometimes it's not.”

Carlos nods, his gaze thoughtful, and you recognize the way his eyes look forward, not looking at anything in particular, just lost. “I want something more, something real. Someone who really understands me, that I can truly connect with.”

You feel a slight flutter in your chest, a feeling you haven’t felt in a long time. You push it aside, a tingle of guilt shooting down your spine. Too complicated, too soon, you think. Instead, you find yourself absent-mindedly nodding, understanding what he means instantly. "Sometimes it just takes time to figure out if someone is right for you," you offer. "Or maybe you just haven't met the right person yet."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The hour passes quickly, with chatter and laughter being tossed between the two of you. There’s bittersweet reminiscing of old times and sharing stories of before your timelines came together in the Ferrari garage. As the hour passes, Carlos can’t help but steal glances at you, noticing how your eyes sparkle when telling different stories or how the wind pushes your scent his way whenever it dances through your hair. 

He lets himself unabashedly drink in every curve of your silhouette, every crinkle in your laughing face, and all the little gestures you make with your hands as you speak. He lets himself revel in your presence, something he couldn’t do when you were with Charles. It was a longing he had been suppressing out of respect for his teammate.

Eventually, you sigh, rubbing your lower back. "Carlos, I think I need to lie down," you say, your voice suddenly exhausted. “This little one is slowly starting to make things a little difficult.”  

Carlos nods immediately, starting to pack up your picnic. "Of course. Let’s get you home." You walk slowly to the car, the sun beginning to dip under the horizon as you climb into the passenger seat.  

The drive home is quiet, the atmosphere charged with unspoken words. The air feels heavier, the silence more meaningful. Carlos occasionally glances at you, his eyes searching for something, but the silence remains.

When you reach Ines’s house, Carlos gets out and walks over to your side. You smile sleepily as he reaches for your hand, helping you out. You ignore your quickening heartbeat as your hand links with his.

"Thanks for today, Carlos," you say softly, looking up at him.

He smiles warmly. “Anytime, I enjoyed it.”

At the front step, you hesitate, nerves suddenly overwhelming you. Carlos turns to you, the setting sun casting a warm glow over your features. He can’t help but admire how beautiful you look, your eyes reflecting a depth of emotion he hasn’t seen before.

You rise on your toes and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, your hand resting on his bicep for support. Carlos's breath hitches at the touch of your lips, his heart pounding. As you step back, your eyes lock for a moment, saying so much yet so little. You turn and open the door, warmth escaping into the chilled night. With your hand on the doorknob, you pause and look back at him one last time. “Buenas noches, Carlos.”

“Buenas noches,” he echoes.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The days slip by seamlessly, and it seems Carlos is becoming a fixture on your doorstep. Often, he arrives with arms laden with fresh ingredients. He often loses himself in the kitchen’s warmth, occasionally offering you a spoonful of whatever he’s been cooking up, a playful dance of tastes and laughter filling the air.

One evening, as Carlos savours a spoonful of sauce, his approval spills forth. “Te quedó esta salsa bien rica,” he praises, stirring the pot with a satisfied grin. Your sauce here is very delicious.

You chuckle, shooting him a sidelong glance. “Me enseñaron bien,” you nudge him playfully, shoulders brushing. I was taught well.

In subtle ways, Carlos begins to make himself indispensable around the house. He tackles Aunt Ines’s unreachable sink leak, banishes the wobble from a chair deemed off-limits, and even lends a hand in her garden. Aunt Ines finds herself gazing at him with admiration, not just for his handy skills but also for the way he lifts you from your melancholy and paints a smile on your face.

You walk together one evening, a gentle breeze caressing your skin. Carlos swiftly sheds his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. Despite your attempts to suppress the fluttering butterflies that erupt in your tummy, your cheeks betray your feelings with a rosy hue as you look up at him.

"You didn't have to do that," you murmur, fingers fidgeting with the zipper.

"I wanted to," Carlos replies simply, his gaze lingering on yours a moment longer than necessary. Pausing in the middle of the street, you stand still, your breath catching as his fingers brush away a stray hair from the jacket's neckline. Your eyes fall away, a quiet anticipation hanging between you.

“Helado?” you exclaim, breaking the spell he has you under and dart towards an ice cream parlour nearby. "I'll have two scoops of chocolate, please," you request from the server, fingers drumming on the counter.

"Make that three," Carlos chimes in, flashing a grin at you. He pays for the ice cream and follows behind you as you gleefully find your spot at a table. 

As you lounge at the small table, you bask in the warm sun. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes, like fireflies in the dimming light of dusk. Swiftly he dips his finger into the creamy confection, tracing a delicate line across the tip of your nose.

You gasp at the cold substance, a symphony of laughter escaping your lips. “Carlos!” you exclaim. He can’t help but laugh as you scramble to wipe it off, holding the napkins just out of your grasp. You narrow your eyes at him, angling your cone towards his face. Yet like the fast cars he drives, he moves, leaving a delicate smear of cream on his cheek. 

He freezes, jaw hanging open. You go to smear more over his other cheek as he pushes the ice cream away, shaking his head in playful amusement. You relent, letting out a chuckle as you plop back into your seat. 

"Nice try," he quips, his voice a soft melody in the evening air, as he reaches for a napkin to wipe away the cream.

The moment seems to slow, the world around you seemingly holding its breath as Carlos’s eyes flicker up to meet yours. With a gentle movement, he reaches out towards you, thumb tracing a soft arc over the tip of your nose. With a tender reverence, he brings his finger to his lips, tongue poking out and dragging over the pad of his digit, eyes never leaving yours. It sends a rush down your body, igniting something in your gut that is almost unrecognizable. 

You get pulled from your stupor as laughter rings through your ears. Your eyes land on a group of women, arms linked as they approach you. One of them speaks up as they pass by. "You two make such a lovely couple," she says, her voice soft but full of warmth.

You feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment, feeling like a deer in the headlights being caught doing something she shouldn’t be. Carlos grins at the woman, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Thank you," he replies graciously, arms swinging over to rest on the back of your chair. His gaze lingers on your warm cheeks before winking at the woman, sending her away with his signature smile.

a/n: Thank you to everyone for tuning in, any feedback, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated, I love seeing your reactions and notes! Love you guys lots!

tags: @kravitzwhore @janeh22 @apollosfavkiddo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @tremendousstarlighttragedy @sltwins @bwormie @marshmummy@honethatty12 @staplerrrr @smithieandy @loloekie @musicheaux @jeondeluxe111 @dessxoxsworld @xoscar03 @emryb @yl90

[mika-mp3]

The treasure is all mine

-chapter three-

(Prologe, chapter one, chapter two, chapter four)

Genshin Impact x Creator!reader

warnings: no y/n used, slight yandere behavior, possible spelling errors, rain lol

summary: Tighnari leads you to his home; Gandharva Village, where you meet Collei. However.. they are starting to take note of the strange things happening around you and suspect there is more to who you are then what meets the eye....

characters: you, Tighnari, Collei

word count: 2159

wattpad story here

https://pin.it/1dI84VVUB

As the fire crackles and the rain continues to fall outside, you close your eyes, allowing yourself to drift into a restful sleep, your heart filled with hope and determination. The journey to uncover your past and discover your true identity has only just begun, and you are ready to embrace it, one step at a time.

The journey through the forest was both arduous and enlightening. Days melded into one another as Tighnari led you through the vast, dense woodland. The sun filtered through the towering trees, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor, while the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves provided a serene backdrop. Along the way, Tighnari shared his knowledge of the flora and fauna, teaching you about the medicinal properties of various plants and the habits of the forest's creatures.

One morning, as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the leafs above, Tighnari turned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and relief. "We're nearing Gandharva Village. It's a place of respite and learning for the Forest Rangers, often referred to as 'The City Above the Forest.' It's an important outpost, frequented by travelers, merchants, and adventurers."

Your heart quickened at the prospect of finally reaching a place of relative civilization. The forest had been beautiful, but the constant uncertainty of your situation had left you yearning for some stability.

"City Above the Forest?" you echoed, curiosity piqued.

Tighnari nodded. "Yes. Gandharva Village is built on a series of platforms and walkways suspended above the forest floor. It's designed to blend harmoniously with the natural environment, minimizing our footprint and maintaining the delicate balance of the ecosystem."

As you walked, the forest began to change subtly. The trees grew even taller, their trunks thicker and more ancient. The air felt different, fresher somehow, as if you were ascending into a different realm. You passed by shimmering waterfalls and crossed crystal-clear streams, each sight more breathtaking than the last.

Tighnari paused occasionally to point out interesting plants or animal tracks, his passion for the natural world evident in every word. "This is a varuna tree," he explained at one point, gesturing to an enormous tree with roots that seemed to span across the forest. "Its sap is highly prized for its healing properties. The rangers often collect it for medical use."

You nodded, absorbing the information. "It's incredible how everything in the forest seems to have a purpose."

"Indeed," Tighnari agreed. "Nature is a masterful teacher, if only we take the time to listen."

As the sun climbed higher, you finally caught sight of Gandharva Village. True to Tighnari's description, it was a marvel of engineering and nature. Wooden platforms connected by rope bridges and ladders formed a network high above the ground, blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. Lush greenery draped over the structures, and colorful flowers added vibrant splashes of color.

"Welcome to Gandharva Village," Tighnari said with a smile. "Let's head to my house. I want to conduct a thorough medical checkup to ensure you're alright."

You followed him across the swaying bridges, marveling at the ingenuity of the village's design. The air was filled with the scents of blooming flowers and the earthy aroma of the forest. Villagers greeted Tighnari warmly as you passed, their smiles reflecting the close-knit community spirit.

Arriving at Tighnari's house, you found it to be a cozy, well-kept dwelling, filled with books, herbs, and various scientific instruments. He gestured for you to sit on a comfortable chair by a large window that offered a stunning view of the forest canopy.

"Let's see," Tighnari began, retrieving a medical kit. "I'll check your vitals first."

You nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and nervousness. As he worked, his touch was gentle but precise, his eyes focused and attentive. The sense of care he exuded was reassuring.

As he examined you, Tighnari continued to share more about the village. "Gandharva Village serves as the main hub for the Forest Rangers. We monitor the forest, ensuring its health and safety. It's also a place where travelers can rest and resupply. The community here is diverse, with people from all walks of life coming together to protect and learn from the forest."

You listened intently, feeling a growing sense of connection to this place. "It sounds like a wonderful community. I can see why you love it here."

Tighnari smiled warmly. "It is. The forest is our lifeblood, and we do our best to live in harmony with it. Speaking of which, your readings are normal, but you need to stay warm and dry to avoid falling ill."

Before you could respond, the door to the house burst open, and a young girl with green hair and a sturdy looking bow rushed in. "Master Tighnari! You're back!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with relief. "I was so worried..."

Tighnari looked up, a mixture of surprise and warmth in his eyes. He fixes his clothing and walked over to her "Collei, it's good to see you. I didn't mean to worry you. We had an unexpected journey."

Collei's gaze shifted to you, her curiosity evident. "Who's this? Are you alright?"

You offered a small smile. "I'm fine, thank you. Tighnari has been taking good care of me."

Tighnari placed a reassuring hand on Collei's shoulder. "This is our guest. They've had a rough time but are safe now. Collei, can you help prepare some hot tea? It'll help them warm up."

Collei nodded eagerly. "Of course, Master." She hurried to the kitchen area, her movements quick and efficient.

As you sat there, enveloped in the warmth of the blanket and the kindness of your new companions, a sense of belonging began to take root. The journey ahead was still uncertain, but for the first time since you woke up in the forest, you felt a glimmer of hope.

Tighnari's house, with its mix of natural elements and scientific tools, seemed to reflect his dual nature as both a guardian of the forest and a seeker of knowledge. The walls were adorned with botanical drawings, and shelves were lined with jars of herbs and curious specimens.

"Tighnari," you began, feeling a need to understand more, "It must be incredible to live in a world where such beings as gods and elements exist."

"It is," Tighnari agreed. "But it's also a responsibility. Those who receive visions often feel a duty to use their powers for the greater good."

Before you could ask more, Collei returned with a steaming pot of tea and cups. She poured the tea with practiced ease, and the fragrant steam filled the room, adding to the cozy atmosphere.

"Here you go," she said, handing you a cup. "This should help warm you up."

You took the cup gratefully, feeling the warmth spread through your hands. "Thank you, Collei."

As you sipped the tea, its soothing warmth spreading through you, you realized that despite the mysteries surrounding your past, you had found a place where you could begin to seek answers. Gandharva Village, with its unique blend of nature and community, felt like a stepping stone on your journey of self-discovery.

Tighnari leaned back, his gaze thoughtful. "Rest for now. We can talk more in the morning. There’s much for you to learn about Teyvat, and perhaps we can uncover more about your past as we go."

You nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude and anticipation. "Thank you, Tighnari. And you too, Collei. I don't know what lies ahead, but I'm glad to have met you both."

With that, you settled into the warmth of the blanket, the fire crackling softly nearby, and the gentle murmur of the forest outside. The rain continued to fall, but within Tighnari's home, you felt safe and hopeful. The journey to uncover your true identity had begun in earnest, and with the support of your new friends, you felt ready to face whatever lay ahead.

As you drift into a deep, much-needed sleep, Tighnari and Collei moved to a corner of the room, their voices hushed but urgent. Tighnari’s sharp ears twitched slightly, always alert even in the safety of his home. He glanced over at the sleeping figure, then turned his attention back to Collei.

"Master, what happened out there? Who is this person?" Collei asked, her green eyes wide with curiosity and concern.

Tighnari sighed, running a hand through his dark green hair, his fennec ears flicking with agitation. "It's a long story, Collei. I found them wandering in the forest, disoriented and with no memory of who they are or how they got there. But there's more to it than just amnesia."

Collei tilted her head, her fox-like ears twitching in interest. "More? Like what?"

Tighnari leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. "The forest itself seemed to react to them. Flowers bloomed in their presence, and the trees seemed to bend to offer protection. It's as if the forest was… welcoming them."

Collei's eyes widened even further. "Welcoming them? But that's… I've never heard of such a thing happening."

"Neither have I," Tighnari admitted. "But that's not all. They don't smell like a normal human. In fact, they don't have any scent at all, which is highly unusual. Every living being has a scent, but they don't. It's like they exist outside the natural order of things."

Collei frowned, trying to process the information. "Do you think they could be… a god? Or some other non-human creature?"

Tighnari sighed again, his expression thoughtful. "It's possible. Their presence feels different, almost otherworldly. There's a calmness and a sense of belonging that I can't quite explain. It's like they are part of the forest in a way that goes beyond mere human understanding."

Collei hesitated, then spoke up. "I remember an old tale I heard as a child, a legend about the Creator. It was said that the Creator would one day return to Teyvat, bringing harmony and balance to the world. Could it be possible that…"

Tighnari's eyes widened slightly. "The Creator? It's a tale I've heard too, but always dismissed as myth. Yet, the signs… they can't be ignored."

Collei nodded slowly, her mind racing. "If they truly are the Creator, or even something close to that, it could explain why the forest reacted the way it did. The forest, the plants, even the animals – they all recognized them."

Tighnari looked back at the sleeping figure, his expression softening. "If that's true, then their presence here could have far-reaching implications. We need to keep them safe and help them recover their memories. Only then can we understand their true purpose and what it means for Teyvat."

Collei agreed, her determination matching Tighnari's. "We'll do everything we can to protect them and help them find out who they are. This could be the start of something incredible."

Tighnari smiled, careful not to touch her, knowing how much she disliked physical contact. "Thank you, Collei. Your support means a lot. For now, let's focus on keeping them safe and comfortable. We'll figure out the rest as we go."

They both turned their attention back to the sleeping figure, their minds filled with questions and possibilities. The journey ahead was uncertain, but with the bond they shared and the resolve they held, they felt ready to face whatever challenges lay in wait.

Tighnari then spoke again, a new idea forming in his mind. "Collei, there is someone who might be able to help us. The Dendro Archon, the God of Wisdom. She has knowledge beyond our understanding. If anyone can provide answers, it's her."

Collei's eyes lit up with hope. "The Dendro Archon? Yes, she would surely know what to do. We should take them to her."

Tighnari nodded. "It's settled then. Tomorrow, we'll prepare for the journey to meet the Dendro Archon. Let's hope she can shed some light on this mystery."

---

The sun rose gently over Gandharva Village, casting a warm glow over the intricate network of platforms and bridges. The village was already bustling with activity as Forest Rangers went about their duties, preparing for another day of safeguarding the forest.

Inside Tighnari's home the air was filled with the scent of fresh herbs and flowers. You stirred from your sleep, blinking slowly as you adjusted to the morning light streaming through the windows.

Tighnari and Collei were already up, speaking quietly near the door. They turned as the reader awoke, their expressions softening with concern.

"Good morning," Tighnari greeted with a warm smile. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit better," you reply, still feeling the lingering warmth of the blankets. "Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome," Collei said, her voice gentle. "We're here to help you."

As they prepared for the day, you couldn't shake the feeling of being part of something much larger. The forest, the village, and the people around them all seemed to resonate with a sense of purpose and connection.

Tighnari's words from the previous night echoed in your mind. The journey to uncover your true identity was just beginning, and with the support of your new friends, they felt ready to face whatever lay ahead. The path forward was uncertain, but it was also filled with hope and the promise of discovery.

https://www.pinterest.de/pin/126311964540912532/

Thank you so much for reading! Fell free to give me feedback and ideas how to continue this!

P.S. I fixed the pov in the end!!

Mika

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