#and I DID get some of the problems on my own
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Angst you say? What types of angst were you planning for them??? Like what type of angst could these lovebirds have?! Will they break up??? Have an argument then one of them leaves for a contract and DIES??? LIKE WHAT ANGST!? DETAILS!!! ARE NEEDED!!!
okay. as you wish, anon!!!
full pic and explanation under the cut. tw very sad blood death very sad again
idk if it's canon or not…………….. i'll keep drawing them happy anyway.
the text is very messy sorry my english is ba*gunshot*
murat, 50, lucanis, 45. still crows, lucanis is the first talon, murat is his right-hand man.
at 49, murat was stabbed on a seemingly simple contract, he even hobbled home with a wound and almost gave lucanis a heart attack because murat acted as if nothing terrible had happened, but he could barely stand on his feet. he was stabbed close to the liver, close but not fatal. the fade prison did something to lucanis and after that he became more nervous, anxious or something, idk. overprotective, maybe. after that, lucanis said that's it, we will retire and move to the outskirts of antiva, away from all this. murat thought lucanis was joking and then realized he wasn’t joking at all. after a little fight, murat promised one year more okay, we'll solve this thefirsttalon problem and finally run away from here. oh and we'll get a dog, a cat, and a goat, whoever you want, my love. lucanis agreed.
10 months passed. they were either on a contract or on some kind of crow mission, but it turned out to be an ambush. they were ready for this, because there are attempts on their lives, like, all the time. but this time these guys were very well prepared and there were several times more of them. (maybe even spite couldn't do spite things and lucanis had to rely only on his skills. some kind of magical artifact.) after a short fight, lucanis' head was slammed against the wall and he was knocked out but was still conscious. murat killed this guy and the last one remained. and at the same time murat cut their throat, they stabbed murat in the chest with all their might with a terrible crunch. falling to the ground, they also pulled the knife out of murat. murat only had the strength to slide down the wall.
spite tried to lift lucanis but he couldn't, he kept repeating that murat was hurt. eventually lucanis regained consciousness and crawled to murat. he was holding his chest and looked really fucking bad. lucanis opened murat's collar and there was a deep wound with blood oozing out. the same blood was also pouring out of his mouth. lucanis said that he will come up with something right now, he will find help, murat just needs to hold on a little. he was panicking, not knowing what to do, he tried to cover the wound with both hands, but the blood was oozing right through his fingers. murat, with the last of his strength, said that he loves him very much and he is so sorry that he couldn't keep his promise. he covered lucanis' hands with his own. lucanis said that he doesn't give a shit about the promise, just live, please. but after these words, murat wilted and his hand slowly slid down to lucanis's wrist, and then hung.
lucanis had a very short stage of denial, because he had seen death many times and this was exactly it. at first he tried to lift him up, to carry him somewhere, but for some reason murat's body was now incredibly heavy, and it was as if lucanis had no strength at all. he tried to talk to him but he no longer answered. well… so he sat down next to him. he sat there for i don’t know how long. spite didn’t understand at all why the fuck lucanis was just sitting there and doing nothing. why didn’t he help him. probably spite is still somewhat confused about death, he doesn't fully understand the death of mortals.
i don't know what will happen to lucanis next, everything is so bad, it's horrible if you think about it. rook was his first, in many things. murat was his best friend, assistant, support. he was afraid that murat could be killed, but he wasn't afraid when murat was next to him, because together they can handle anything. and then this happens… plus spite harbored a grudge against him. he blamed lucanis for not saving rook. lucanis tried to explain to him that murat had already died and it was no longer possible to bring him back. but spite is spite, he stood his ground. and soon lucanis also began to blame himself. what he will do next, i can't even imagine.
the end!!
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Besotted 1
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.
Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes
Note: Saturday is fat tiddies day. I'm sorry.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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"Wow, uh, I'd say that's a lot but it's really not much," you snort at Angelique as she comes out of your bathroom in a tiny string bikini. The leopard print is loud on the tiny triangles barely concealing her tits and a few other parts.
"Not all of us are nuns like you," she retorts and sticks out her tongue.
"I'm not a nun," you roll your eyes.
You're not exactly modest yourself. You like your booty shorts and your cropped tops. And when you're lazy enough, you can be caught walking around in your purple track pants that read sex bomb across the ass. Not exactly classy, but fun.
"Right, right, sure," she scoffs.
"That's a low blow," you hiss.
"Well, it's the truth. What's that now? Twenty-two and you're as pure as the blessed Mother Mary."
"You're a fucking bitch," you sneer.
"I am," she grins and shakes her tits. "But the guys love it."
"You are so dumb," you scowl.
"Try a smile, babe, and maybe someone will want to get it in."
"Wow, did you just come over here to be awful?"
"No, I came over to have fun. Loosen up, have some vodka." She insists.
"Oh, no, I get it, you came to drink my booze," you accuse.
"Look, it's hot enough out that I don't need you breathing down my neck. You invited me over," she snips.
"Regretfully," you tweak your brow.
"Boo, get you're fucking swimsuit on. I'm dying." She crosses her arms and drags her feet across the floor. She grabs her drink; some strawberry kiwi juice and too much vodka.
"Why don't you go start?" You ask. "Better than pouting over your drinking problem."
"Cuntttttt," she growls the last consonant. "Oh, you are the worst."
"Isn't that why you love me?" You blow her a kiss and skip into your bedroom.
You better keep up with her so you can put up with her. Vodka and orange juice should do the trick. A little less sickly sweet. You pull out your bikini. The sides of the bottoms are silver hoops and there's another between the bra cups. It's not exactly a nun's habit, is it? Especially with your tits.
As you come out, you tuck in your left boob, the bigger one. Angelique swirls around her glass before emptying it. It's barely noon.
"You know, you'll probably be drunk before you even get a tan," you chirp.
"Probably," she shrugs and spins. "Come on, I'm bored."
You huff and stomp around her. You pour yourself some vodka then find the carton of orange juice in your fridge. Hm, only enough for one drink. Nice of her to bring mixer for both of you. You dump it in with the vodka and head for the door.
You grab your sunglasses before you step out into the sunlight. It's blazing hot. You slurp back the orange juice laced with alcohol and look around. You don't have much but it's yours. Somewhat. The sunburnt grass and cracked walkway. That's really the dream home.
You put down your drink on the folding table under the mailbox and grab the kiddy pool leaning against the siding. Angelique makes no effort to help. You don't expect her too.
You drag it over onto the lawn and go around to unwind the hose. You unwind it and haul it back with you, tugging out the kinks until it reaches the pool. You'd do this all in the backyard but there's too many ant hills.
You hold the hose and spray it into the plastic pool. As you do, you notice the peculiar dark shape in the next lot; a motorcycle. There's boxes on the other side of the duplex porch. Huh, they must've found a new tenant.
Angelique pops open a bottle of tanning lotion and generously applies it over her arms and chest. She's shining as she smears it over her sandy skin. You'll put on some actual SPF when you get a minute.
You wiggle the hose as you grow bored of filling the pool. Your mind wanders. She always has to say something. Always has to embarrass you. Never lets you forget every time you struck out. Well, you're just a little awkward. Maybe you should stop giving a fuck. Like her.
"Oh, summer feels so good," she struts over with her drink and steps into the pool.
She sits and shivers so her pert tits jiggle. A top like that would do nothing but go missing under your chest. As she reclines and basks in the sunlight, you sigh.
"Gee, Ang, thanks for all your help."
"No problem, girly." She smirks and bends her leg, swaying it as you notice the neighbours across the street gawking. The two pot-bellied men who meet up to gripe on their lawn chair. Ew.
You drop the hose in and go back to the porch. You dip inside for your bottle of sunscreen and come back out. You work at rubbing it in. You'll wait a bit before you get in so it doesn't wash off. It's no Hawaiian coast but that small dented pool is your only relief from the summer heat.
Angelique swishes her second drink in the glass. You don't think she'd help with your back. She's in her own little bubble. As usual.
You hear the snap of the door behind the wooden crisscross that blocks the other half of the porch. You glance over at the shadow that passes by. The unit's been empty almost since you got there. No tenant stayed longer than a month.
The man tramps down his stairs and to the motorcycle leaning on its kickstand. He digs around in the saddle bags then turns. As he does, you catch his eye and give a half-smile. You wave weakly as he keeps going. Oh.
You blink and look at Angelique. She's completely unaware; of your new neighbour or her audience. Two teen boys pass by in a not so subtle detour from their side of the street. You grimace but they're not looking at you.
You turn the bottle in your hands. That man. He's kinda handsome, if he is a bit older. His long hair is a mix of fading brown and grey. His beard is seasoned with silver and his blue eyes shine boldly. And his jawline. That's to die for.
Why had you been so hung up on boys your own age?
The thought make you cringe. Are you serious? Angelique is right. You're too desperate.
“Anj,” you approach the pool.
“If you’re not offering to refill my drink, I don’t want to hear it.” Her eyes are closed behind the dark lenses.
“Why are we friends again?” You mutter.
She just giggles and finishes her drink. Nope. If she wants more, she can get it. You spin away and catch sight of that man again.
Your new neighbour grabs a box from the stack on the front porch. You step up to the property line and smile. He doesn’t notice you as he disappears inside.
There’s not much. The boxes are dusty, marked with the logos of the local storage facility, and his motorcycle is the only other thing there. He must’ve had the stuff dropped off.
He emerges again and you wave, “uh, excuse me? Hi. Neighbour?”
He pauses and his shoulders tense. He faces you slowly. His left arm is covered in ink. The patterns are intricate. His other arm is marked with scars.
You introduce yourself as you sidle up the property line. He stares.
“It’s nice to meet you.” You say. He still doesn’t answer. “What’s your name?”
He looks up then back at you. “Bucky,” he grits out. His voice is sexy.
“Oh, Bucky? That’s cute,” you say. “Say, neighbour, can I ask a favour? I’ll bring you a casserole for your trouble.”
He considers you, “don’t gotta do that.” He crosses his arms. His biceps bulge and so do your eyes. He is built.
“Oh, but I wouldn’t mind, it’s just...” you peek over your shoulder at Angelique as she lazes in the water. The sun beats down on you hotly and sweat beads on your nape. You look at Bucky. “I can’t reach my back.” You show the bottle of sunscreen and smile sheepishly. “Could I get a hand?”
He grumbles and tilts his head. He looks you up and down.
“I really don’t wanna burn. It’s so hot out.” You plead.
Reluctantly he unfolds his arms and comes down the porch steps. He approaches and his chest decompresses visibly as he exhales. He extends his palm to you. You press the bottle into it.
“Thanks!” You let go and shimmy then turn your back to him.
There’s a moment before the lid clicks. He still doesn’t speak. You hear the lotion squirt and brace yourself. He smears it, barely touching you. As the lotion only slides over your skin, he sighs. He shifts and rubs it in more firmly. You push back against his strength, arching your back just slightly.
Your heart races. His hesitance is disappointing. You know you’re not ugly. The reasons you got for your many rejections were that you didn’t want a one-night stand or you insisted on protection. It’s not too much to ask for. You really don’t think it’s your looks.
“All done,” he says.
The lid snaps shut loudly.
You face him, your bikini top stretching dangerous as your chest bounces. His eyes flick down briefly. You nearly laugh. It’s a nice reassurance.
“Thanks, Bucky,” you smile.
He grumbles again and hands you back the bottle. Your cheeks are on fire. He’s so hot. He’s got that definition that makes you all fuzzy. You bet he knows exactly what to do.
“So if you need anything, I’m just next door,” you point to your side of the duplex. “Oh, and I don’t mind noise. At all.”
He nods. You wring your hands around the bottle.
“But you know, if you do, I can be quiet,” you say, realising the double meaning only as your words hang between you.
His brows rise and he dips his chin again. He turns and stalks away. He’s busy. You’re bothering him. You’ll try again when he’s not unpacking.
Your eyes linger on his bike. That might be good place to start. It’s all harmless. You’re being a good neighbour.
You go to your own side of the porch and put the bottle on the top step. You go to the pool and poke Angelique with your toe. “Move over.”
She snorts but gives you room. You get in, arms around the edge, feet up on the other. She giggles.
“What?”
“He’s a bit... ancient,” she flips her sunglasses up and gives you a pointed look.
“Whatever,” you shrug.
“Even so... he’s in good shape,” she sits up slight, flattening her hands against the bottom of the pool. “Hmmm... maybe you might have a chance with the old man.”
“You’re such a bitch,” you growl.
“No, really. Do you think you do?” She asks.
You furrow your brow and search her face, “why?”
“Oh, it could be fun. How about a bet?”
“A bet?”
“Sure, you know, we’re going down to the beach. Got that old house by the shore and there’s only so many spots. You could have one if you can reel him in. No virgins on vacation,” she taunts.
“Fuck, I hate you,” you sneer.
“You love me and I know for a fact, you don’t have a chance of seeing the beach if you don’t come so...”
You take a breath and peer over as your neighbour swings the door open once more. He’s entirely undistracted as he lifts another box. Your stomach swims with nerves. You can flirt; it’s that next thing you never got the hang over. But so far, he’s not even flirting.
“Guaranteed?” You arch a brow in her direction.
“Promise. It’ll give you something to talk about.” She cranes to watch, “you better hope his dick still works.”
#bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#besotted#series#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#mcu#marvel#au#captain america#winter soldier#avengers
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The problem is...
We never escaped gender essentialsm.
We just got rope a doped.
Men were like "the girls are getting liberated! Let's make liberation about peer pressure and drug assisted date rape!"
Then that meant most women went back to being anti sex for a while, so men went
"Cool, the girls want to be in charge? Let's give them all the responsibility and none of the authority!"
Then they got to do weaponized incompetence while women were so used to being infantalized that they fell right into attempts to prove themselves until it was too late and when they were emotionally exhausted they were like "have you tried submission? Maybe if you don't want all the responsibility and none of the authority you might like to just sit back and do what someone else wants with no pesky thinking or yelling at men and feeling guilty and triggering your childhood trauma by feeling like you're doing the same infantalization that was done yo you as an infant?"
And then women were like
"Maybe I can just get a job and some cats dude idk." An the girls were getting financially liberated, somehow all the hiring practices became more strict and more based on "networking" and more companies started having strict dress codes and codes of conduct and the degrees for female dominated professions suddenly involve a ton of student debt and the way to get jobs in male dominated fields involves an apprenticeship that is bestowed upon you by a group of men and then the pay in female dominated feels dropped and men were like
"Hey girl boss, wouldn't it be nice to take a break from the harsh realities of capitalism with some billionaire sugar daddy smut on kindle that's cheaper than all the other books? Hey did you know you can torrent 50 shades of grey? Wouldn't it rock to quit your job and just sexually service some insane rich guy and rationalize his insane behavior all day?
And women were like
"Nah screw that if you want me to suck dick for money I'm going to come as close as I can to seizing the means or diversifying my portfolio or whatever and suck lots of dicks on onlyfans for a small amount of money each so none of them can back me into a corner"
And men were like
"Sorry, now you don't deserve human dignity and you can't expect brigades of trolls not to come after you and you can't expect people not to financially discriminate against your job or stalk you or SA you or publish revenge porn that would be good for your career right also we're gonna make your job illegal and also you're a Dubai toilet are you sure you don't want to go back to the 1950s household, sweetie? It doesn't seem like you're very good at running your own lives maybe if you just pretend to be a child and do pilates a man will take care of you. Maybe women's lib was a mistake? Everyone makes mistakes baby it's okay."
And any women left over got
"Actually you are persecuting and oppressing men and all the stuff you had done to you that you are afraid of replicating like a cycle of abuse and also we will literally take over the government and... you know those nice queer kids who were always nice to you and would make out with you or maybe just be your friends without asking anything other than friendship in return? Yeah we're gonna torture and possibly murder them if you don't do what we say. You know the nice non white people who seem like they don't do as much cisheteronormativity as us because of the legacy of us raping and torturing all the members of their society for years and commiting weird sexual violence on them so they aren't perfect but they don't do gender roles the same way we do exactly and also we hate them anyway and are always looking for excuses to hurt them? If you get married maybe we won't take away their rights. Maybe. We might have to fuck around and do it anyway. We can't have them breeding with you, unless it's us forcing you to performatively have sex with them in fetishy ways that make you feel racist and dirty. Of course we can have sex with whoever we want. You know there are so many warm, kind, feminine women in other countries who still believe in love. Don't even think about trying to have sex with the gays, we will turn that into fetish fuel for men who want to rape them. Oh, and you didn't care about the child poverty rate, right? Because right now eggs are awfully expensive and there was price collusion in Kroger and some other grocery stores- it was in the news. And no one is blaming the high cost of ice cream or chicken breasts or apples or rice or bacon or noodles or hot wings for why the guys who want to cut all social safety net programs got elected sweetie, just eggs. Kinda a coincidence that the guy behind that is having some big sex scandal with his children's mother? And it would all be easily solved if they were married. Anyway, we're going to repeal no fault divorce and hiring discrimination laws and post thousands of fake job listing's online and conduct real interviews for them and not tell you, and we're just going to wait right here watching all this soft core porn of women cooking with their tits out. No pressure. Whatever you decide. It's your choice."
i miss when "don't normalize this" actually meant something. i miss when we would point out toxic thought patterns and note "you're romanticizing something tragic". i miss when you could actually call something antifeminist and you'd be taken seriously. what actually happened.
no, it isn't fucking normal we have teen girls saying "tee hee girl math girl dinner i'm just a girl." no it's not fucking romantic that your man lured you away from your hobbies and your career so you could raise his children and rely on his financial support. yes it's fucking antifeminist for you to say "i'll explain this mathematical concept so the girls can understand it". just because you put it in pink and make it wear a bow doesn't mean it's a safe little doll. it's still the same wolf.
you are being taught to casually accept gender essentialism and bigotry as the natural rule of order! you are being taught to self-admonish and self-control! you are not just being boiled! the water has practically evaporated! this is no longer a thought experiment, my love. this is a genuine problem.
#its called da patriarchy ton#its when guise all get together and make sure dey protect da wimmin.#what do they protect them from?#oh ya know#its just shes such a nice sensitve lady with such a pretty face and a sunny disposition#it would be a shame if something happened to it#provider and protector#rope a dope#for the record i dont think white men oppress LGBTQ and black ppl bc of gender i think#they have no problem framing their bigotry#as something a good woman can fix if she is willing to be in a relationship#and like#somehow the idea that men become radicalized by divorce or not getting laid#as women being obligated to throw themselves on a grenade to protect other people who the radicalization is more dangerous to#idk theres probably a word for that#like its framed to women as we made them oppress others bc they will die if we dont get back in the kitchen or whatever to triangulate
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reaction: when they’re pissed off (in a cute way) with you on Valentine’s Day
cw: skinship, upset enha, kissing, explicit mentions wc: 1.7K TL: @naurwayyyyy @ziiao @somuchdard AN: LMAO REPOST CUZ ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE LAST ONE
𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠
"I’m not mad."
Heeseung has said this at least seven times now.
And yet, he hasn’t looked at you properly all evening, has been scrolling aggressively on his phone, and is eating his food like it personally offended him.
"Baby, you sure about that?" you ask, watching him.
"Yep."
"Then why are you stabbing your steak like it’s my fault?"
"I always eat like this." He shrugs, looking down at his plate with a blank expression, before adding, "Totally normal. No problems here."
You roll your eyes. "Okay, then why have you barely spoken to me?"
"I’m just thinking," he says vaguely, taking a sip of his drink like he’s in a drama about betrayal.
You squint at him. "Hee. Just say it."
Heeseung finally exhales, setting his fork down. "Fine. I just think it’s interesting that I planned this entire Valentine’s surprise, wrote you a whole letter, and took you out to this fancy place—but you didn’t write me anything."
You pause. "Oh."
"Yeah. Oh." He takes another dramatic sip.
You reach for his hand. "Baby, I can write you a letter right now—"
"Nope. Too late. The damage has been done." He leans back, closing his eyes like he’s processing deep betrayal.
You laugh, sliding into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Will a thousand kisses make up for it?"
He pretends to think about it. "Hmmm… I guess I can be persuaded."
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠
Jay had a vision. A Pinterest-worthy, cinematic romance kind of vision.
And you? You ruined it.
"Wait." He blinks at you, utterly betrayed. "Where’s my Valentine’s Day gift?"
You freeze.
"Jay—"
"Oh my God, you forgot."
You panic. "No! I mean… yes. But! But I have something planned—"
"Mmm. Sounds fake."
He leans back, crossing his arms, lips pursed in the most dramatic pout.
"I got you roses and your favorite chocolate. I even wrote a handwritten letter. Meanwhile, my thoughtful, loving, caring fiancé—"
"Okay, okay!" You grab his hands, laughing. "I’ll make it up to you."
He tilts his head, eyeing you suspiciously. "You sure? Because this was a pretty deep wound. Might take a while to heal."
You bite your lip, stepping closer. "I’ll do anything, baby."
His jaw tightens slightly at that, his hands twitching at his sides.
"Anything?" he murmurs.
You nod, brushing your fingers along his collar.
Jay exhales sharply, then grabs your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips graze your ear as he whispers,
"Good. Because I plan to collect that apology. All. Night. Long."
𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧
"I’m so mad at you right now."
You barely step inside before Jake is grabbing your waist, pinning you against the door, and glaring at you like you just personally ruined his life.
You blink up at him, confused. "What did I do now?"
He lets out the most tragic sigh you’ve ever heard. "Oh, I don’t know, babe. Maybe just COMPLETELY neglectING ME on Valentine’s Day??"
You squint. "Jake, we literally spent the entire day together."
"EXACTLY!" he exclaims, gesturing wildly. "We were together ALL DAY and somehow, SOMEWAY, I have not been dicked down once. Not once. Do you understand how that makes a man feel?"
You stare. "Jake—"
"No, no, let me finish." He steps back, running a frustrated hand through his hair like he’s on the verge of a breakdown. "I have spent the last twelve hours waiting, hoping, praying, manifesting some kind of fucking physical affection from my own girlfriend, and what do I get? A pat on the back. A little forehead kiss. What am I, a fucking toddler??"
You burst out laughing. "Baby, you’re being dramatic."
"Dramatic? DRAMATIC?" He grabs your wrist, pulling you flush against him. "Babe. My dick is in distress. It’s been in distress ALL. FUCKING. DAY."
You snort. "You poor thing."
"YES, actually!" He grabs your hand, placing it over his chest. "Feel that? That’s a broken heart. A heart that thought tonight was gonna be different. A heart that thought you were gonna throw me on the bed the second we got home. A heart that—"
You kiss him, effectively shutting him up.
He pauses for half a second before immediately kissing you back, his hands gripping your waist like he’s making sure you don’t escape.
You pull away, smirking. "Better?"
"Mmm." He tilts his head, looking you up and down. "I mean… it’s a start. But, babe—" he leans in, voice dropping— "I'm gonna need a lot more before I forgive you."
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧
Sunghoon isn’t mad.
At least, he tells himself he’s not mad.
But he is currently sitting on the couch, arms crossed, jaw clenched, scrolling aggressively on his phone like someone who is very much mad.
And you have no idea why.
"Hoon." You nudge him. No response.
"Babe, what’s wrong?"
"Nothing."
You narrow your eyes. "That’s a lie."
He finally exhales sharply. "You didn’t wish me at 12:00 AM."
You blink. "Wait. What?"
"It’s fine," he says, standing up, walking away. "Just thought my own girlfriend would wish me at midnight first, but nope. Jay texted me before you did. Even my mom beat you to it."
You burst out laughing. "Hoon, we were asleep at midnight."
"You could’ve set an alarm," he mutters.
You chase after him, grabbing his wrist. "Hoon, baby—"
"Nope. Don’t ‘baby’ me now."
Then, suddenly—he grabs your waist, spins you around, and backs you into the nearest wall.
Your breath catches.
His eyes flicker down to your lips. "You wanna make it up to me?"
You swallow. "Yes."
His fingers brush against your jaw, tilting your chin up. "Good."
Then he kisses you—hard, deep, devastating.
And when he finally pulls away, he smirks.
"You should make mistakes like this more often."
𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨
Sunoo is dramatically sprawled across the bed, one hand over his forehead like some tragic K-drama lead.
"Sunoo, baby, what’s wrong?" you ask, sitting beside him.
"Oh, nothing." His voice is eerily calm. "Just thought I was going to be wined and dined. Taken somewhere extravagant. Pampered like the prince that I am."
You stifle a laugh. "Baby, we had a really nice dinner—"
*"IT WAS A CAFE." He sits up, glaring at you. "You took me to a CAFE."
You bite your lip. "But it was a Paris-inspired one…?"
"WHERE WERE THE CANDLELIGHTS? THE VIOLINS?"
You sigh, pulling him into your arms, stroking his hair. "I’ll take you somewhere fancy this weekend, okay?"
He sniffs. "And buy me dessert?"
"Anything you want, baby."
"And feed it to me?"
"Yes, Sunoo."
"And post me on Instagram?"
"Sunoo—"
He squints. "Do you love me or not?"
𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧
Jungwon isn’t just mad—he’s mad and confused.
And that’s a dangerous combination.
You realize something is wrong when he suddenly stops replying properly to your texts. Then, when you finally meet up for dinner, he just stares at you blankly, arms crossed, jaw tight, looking equal parts irritated and baffled.
"What’s wrong?" you ask, frowning as you sit across from him.
"I don’t know," he says.
You pause. "You don’t know?"
"Nope." He picks up his drink, takes a slow sip while keeping eye contact, then sets it down carefully. "Because if I knew, then I would at least understand why my girlfriend—who, mind you, is supposed to love me—decided to completely ignore me all morning on Valentine’s Day."
Your eyes widen. "Wait—"
"No, no. Please." He holds up a hand, silencing you. "Let me finish."
You press your lips together.
"Do you know who texted me first?" he asks, tilting his head.
"Um—"
"SUNOO." He sits back, folding his arms. "Sunoo texted me first. With a big, pink heart emoji and everything. But my own girlfriend? Nothing. Silence. Like I was just another irrelevant man walking this earth."
You stifle a laugh. "Jungwon—"
"No, because seriously!" He leans forward, exasperated. "Did you hit your head this morning? Did your phone break? Did you forget I existed?"
You grab his hands across the table, laughing. "Baby, I was literally asleep."
"Set an alarm next time," he grumbles.
You kiss his knuckles softly. "I’ll text you first every day for the rest of the week. Deal?"
He sighs, pretending to think about it. "Fine. But I expect dramatic good morning messages. And at least three heart emojis."
𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐤𝐢
Riki has been staring at you.
Not in a cute, "I’m so in love" way. Not in a "Wow, my girlfriend is so pretty" way.
No. This is straight-up judgment.
"Riki," you say cautiously, side-eyeing him as he sits across from you, arms folded, jaw tight. "Are you good?"
He lets out the most condescending scoff. "Me? Oh, yeah. I’m GREAT."
You pause. "…Okay?"
"Yeah. No, I was just sitting here, thinking about how interesting it is that I’ve gone all fucking day without so much as a kiss on the cheek from my own girlfriend. But it’s fine. Really. I love being treated like some random side character in your life."
Your eyebrow twitches. "Riki, we’ve literally been together all day."
"EXACTLY." He throws his hands up, glaring. "And somehow, SOMEWAY, you’ve managed to avoid kissing me like I have a fucking disease."
You stifle a laugh. "Baby, we were literally in public the whole time—"
"Bullshit," he interrupts. *"You had time to fix your hair. You had time to take cute pictures. But you didn’t have time to kiss your incredibly hot, incredibly kissable boyfriend?"
You roll your eyes. "I think you’ll survive."
Riki narrows his eyes. "Oh. That’s how we’re playing it?"
Before you can react, he grabs your wrist, yanking you forward so suddenly that you stumble into his lap, your hands bracing against his chest.
Your eyes widen. "Riki—"
"Shh." He leans in, nose brushing yours, voice low and taunting. "You had your chance. Now it’s my turn."
Your breath catches as his fingers dig into your waist, holding you in place.
"You’re gonna make this up to me, babe," he murmurs, his lips ghosting over yours, teasing, torturing. "And I’m not letting you go until I feel properly appreciated."
TAGLIST: OPEN!!!! LMK WHAT YOU THINK PLS
#enhypen#enhypen reactions#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagine#enhypen fluff#enhypen angst#enhypen crack#enhypen suggestive#enhypen romance#enhypen timestamps#enhypen fanfic#enhypen fake texts#enhypen headcanons#enhypen boyfriend au#enhypen scenarios#enhypen smau#enhypen imagines
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The Shadows That Nurture 17
Remember when I said that ch 18 may take longer? Yeah, so I surprised myself- I thought the little fight sequence would kill me but I found a work around- kinda.
Here's ch 17, hope y'all enjoy!
Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 17 >>next
“Wait- you and Superman were friends? Ok, no- let me back track. You know Clark is Superman?” You asked, sipping on your Tedi drink as you stopped looking over Luthor’s plans for a Mars station. “This won’t be of any use, by the way- Mars is already populated, has a mind control parasite problem, and the Martians are quick to execute people.” Lex just laughs.
“Yes, we were. Yes, I know. No, I won’t tell you, it’s a story for another time. And I’m working on finding a diplomat for a treaty and on something to fix that little problem. Now, how did you know Clark is Superman?” You just shrug. “Not like he’s wearing a mask. Sure, the posture difference and the unfitted suits he wears helps, but if you look close enough at Superman it’ll be hard not to connect him to someone. And his face is too soft to be Bruce Wayne.”
"And I saw Lois kiss him." Luthor’s amused cackle got cut short as the doors to his office opened, Slade Wilson strutting in as if he owned the place. “How did-“ Lex almost hisses at the man, but Slade waves him off. “Does it matter? I’m already here.” The man smirks as he hands you the garment bag he was carrying, taking a seat in the other armchair near Luthor’s desk while watching you critique the work on your suit. “Ha! This looks brand new, thanks- oh this reminded me.”
You get up, swinging the closed bag over your shoulder. “I have to cut our gossiping session short, I have to go rob a billionaire. Don’t kill each other.” You snatch the pointer from Luthor’s desk, slashing your nails through the air to open a portal. “And up your security Alex!” Lex just cringes at the name, grunting in displeasure.
Slade finally turns to look at the bald billionaire. “So? Have you thought about my offer?” Luthor sighs as he slums in his chair, eye twitching at the assassin’s question, his fingers tapping the armrest. Of course he has. “You are assuming she’ll just accept it like nothing.” Slade just raises an eyebrow. “I’ll take the blame, don’t worry.”
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
“So, who's in?” You grin widely as Rex and Amanda immediately raise their hands, mischief glinting in their eyes. “Alright- hey, calm down- why do you even want to go rob Bruce Wayne? I know you hate the guy but aren’t you afraid of Batman?” Black Samson intervenes, the others looking at the board you produced out of thin air with pictures depicting the Wayne manor and Bruce Wayne with some drawn red horns and goatee.
“Well- it’s not technically stealing. I’m just taking my childhood stuff back. Mainly plushies.” You shrug. “Childhood stuff? You lived there?” Dupli-Kate voices what others are thinking, getting a simple yes. “Don’t get fooled by his fake clumsy act, the man is cold. And he was a deadbeat to me.” You pointed Luthor’s pointer at the Immortal. “No, I will not elaborate on my parental issues, and-“ You moved to point at Rudy when he opened his mouth. “Magic. Well, more of a pocket dimension I already had the board in.” You shrug. “Still used magic to teleport it here.”
“Can we go already?” Rex's whines are quickly followed by Monster Girl’s voice. “Yeah, I want to check rob the rich off my bucket list. And to try those cookies you keep raving about!” Samson sighs as he gets up, arms crossing looking like a disappointed father. “I can’t in good conscience let you do that. Immortal, back me up, man.” But it took one look at your unimpressed face for the spineless man to fold. “Well, if he was such a terrible father-“
“That decides it then!” You smile brightly, grabbing the message board and throwing it back into the pocket dimension. You quickly grab Rex and Monster Girl and fly away, not giving anyone else the chance to argue. “Jesus, do we weight anything to you?” Amanda grabs tighter onto you. “Nope. It’s like holding a couple of grapes.”
Samson’s eyes move from your departing figure to the ancient man, disappointment shining through as he sighs and shakes his head before going back to the GDA computer.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
“Can’t believe we almost got caught by the billionaire.” Amanda giggles as she eats another chocolate chip cookie. “I can’t believe the butler almost caught us! These are so good-” Rex groans, moaning as he too stuffs another cookie in his mouth. “Alfred’s highly trained, actually. Even if we were invisible, he probably still felt our eyes on him.” You shrugged, dangling your feet over the edge of the building you three sat on.
“That Bruce guy… he seemed quite wrecked when he passed by your door.” At Amanda’s worried words, you just brush her off. “He’s probably worried about it ruining his image or something.” Rex’s brows furrow as he looks at you. “What about your mom? You’ve never talked about her before.”
“Nobody asked before. But seriously- compared to Debbie, hell, compared to Eve’s mom, mine was doing it more out of duty. I loved her, I still do. She was a better parent than Bruce, but she still had her faults. Now that I know what a mom is truly like, I feel like I was more of a doll she occasionally played with when she was bored of men and work.”
“Damn. First your mom, then Wayne, now Omni-Man- you can’t catch a break, can you?” Monster Girl joked, trying to lighten the mood. You laugh and groan, eyes fixated on the stars. “Twice is a coincidence, three times is a curse, eh?” Your small talk is interrupted by the sound of your phone, the screen lighting up with a message from Mark only stating an address and to get there as fast as possible. “Well, the fun is over, I have to go. Let’s get you two home.” They both booed as they got up, making you laugh.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
You anxiously sat in a seat as the alien was starting up his spaceship, giving a small smile and thumbs up as the Thraxan asked about your comfortability. “Yeah. Thanks… Hey, how long until we get to Thraxa?” Mark asks, seemingly just as nervous. “Approximately six of your earth days.”
“Wicked.” You muttered sarcastically, eyes meeting Mark’s. “We so should have talked to mom face to face.” The older sibling sighs. “I mean- you got that teleportation magic stuff, you could always just check in with her once we get there, right?” You give a noncommittal hum as you pout. “Still feels wrong. Like a trap.”
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Tim Drake was staring at the video footage and audio recordings, playing the sound over and over again. “Can’t believe the fuckers went through my stuff.” Keeps on being repeated by the Sorceress as two others help her throw plushies and paintings through a Lazarus green portal. His eyes move to the clock. Four in the morning, and he has been awake for about a day. His eyes moved to the only picture they seemed to find of you, the one Alfred had ran around the house with, before his eyes moved back to your figure on the screen.
He puts the coffee mug on the table while he gets up, going straight into the elevator. He was hallucinating. He must be. You were a normal kid and he was tired, and in distress, he was seeing things, associating The Sorceress with his little sister because they were two unknowns. Yes. Definitely that and not because he was in denial. Granted, Tim was tired enough not to see another figure looming in the shadows. So, he wasn’t lying to himself fully.
By the next morning, everyone in the manor found out there was missing stuff from your old room, and while Tim was sure that he was awake then, he had no proof of anything he saw. No footage, no voice recordings, nothing. His eyes drifted to Damian’s seemingly annoyed but unbothered expression, rubbing at his eyes after the younger boy gave him a smirk. Damian’s face was as blank as ever. Tim decided to get more sleep. He has to be seeing shit.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
While Nuolzot was trying to wake up your brother gently you just grabbed your pillow and whacked it across his face, making the young adult wake up screaming, fists raised ready for a fight. “We’re here sleeping beauty.” You snicker at his expression, moving in synch with him once he’s by your side, completely ignoring his mumbles.
When the door of the spacecraft opens you both flinch at the sound of the Thraxans exclaiming greetings and cheers. You both awkwardly waved. “Oh, don't mind them. Come. The monarch wants to meet you at once.” Mark and you simply follow the alien as you look around. “Wait, what exactly about this planet needs saving? Where are the meteors?” The man asks only to be answered with confusion. “Meteors? What meteors?” You give Mark a look before turning back to Nuolzot, speaking with just as much confusion. “Uh- the ones that are supposedly killing billions?” This was definitely a trap.
“Oh, yeah, those meteors. You know, must be a touch of dementia.” The alien shrugs nervously. “We age much quicker than you humans, you know. Uh, don't worry, the monarch will explain all.” The Thraxan quickly ushers you two towards the staircase, nudging you to bow politely. “Your Majesty. May I present Invincible and Sorceress of Earth.”
You look at Mark with a face that clearly shows how tired you already are of this madness. But nonetheless, you kneel alongside your brother, only looking up when a familiar voice greets you both. As your eyes meet the monarch your brows furrow. “Oh, you mother-“
Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger @pinkluv29 @br33zy-blizzardz @victoria1676 @of-poetry-and-dreams
#dc x invincible#dc crossover#invincible crossover#yandere batfam#yandere batfam x neglected reader#yandere invincible#neglected reader#yandere batfamily#fem!reader#female!reader#yandere nolan grayson#yandere mark grayson#platonic yandere
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I don't know why I feel so numb towards the new Avatar announcement. Like I'm not excited for it. But I'm also not as devastated and pessimistic about it as a lot of people are about it.
Like yeah, Korra haters are crawling out of the mud and shit again, but they would've taken ANY excuse to hate on her. Like, even if it were all sunshines and rainbows in a post Korra world they would probably be going on about how she was a 'weak avatar with no accomplishments' or a Mary Sue or something like that.
I'm cautiously suspecting that Avatar Studios are going for a Kuruk-style story with Korra, where she was somehow defamed. It seems that the Avatar books were a sort of testing ground for them, as the 'Avatar's twin' plotline was also teased in the Roku book.
I understand why this upsets some people, as it gives Korra an ultimately unhappy life and leaves her as hated in-world. However, I don't think we should jump to conclusions of Bryke somehow wanting to 'destroy' Korra's character, just because they didn't give her a happy life. Characters like the aforementioned Kuruk, and fan favourite Toph Beifong didn't have 'happy endings' in the traditional sense, but that enhances their characters, in my opinion. Like yeah, it's tragic that sometimes storylines are sad- but that doesn't make them bad storylines.
Is it a bummer that Korra seemingly had a tragic life? Yeah. But also, she's the Avatar, and would inevitably face a lot of strife in her life- and not do things perfectly. Aang also faced difficulties and had problems in his adult life.
It also feels like there's a potential meta storyline going on there, potentially having the in world hate towards Korra tied to the IRL hate towards Korra. This isn't the first time Korra's character has been used for more meta-style commentary, as a lot of her character surrounded her trying to measure up to Aang, whilie also trying to be her own person- a potential coentary on what making a follow up to atla must've been like.
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And also- we are JUMPING to conclusions over leaks and blurbs.
I think my main personal concerns with the Seven Havens lie with the fact that it feels like a soft reboot of sorts. With tlok, despite its technological advancements, which I did have issues with, we see very clearly how we got to point A to point B. The world Korra inhabits feels the same as the world Aang inhabits.
Seven Havens seems to have had a post apocalyptic vibe, where the world has changed drastically, reshaping the four nations into seven new 'havens' and changing the way the Avatar is percieved. It feels like a huge departure from the previous series - which could be fine- but also feels like waste.
The world of Avatar is so complex and has been built up through multiple series, books and comics. To have it reshaped completely feels like throwing out such a rich compendium of lore and stories.
It also worries me, as it likely throws away tlok's very imteresting work with politics. While tlok didn't always tackle the dissection if politics correctly, it at least had the courage to discuss these complex topics. Getting rid of the four nations will probably toss away a lot of these politocal effects of Korra's tenure as Avatar, for example- the democratisation of the Earth Kingdom.
Reading the atla comics (while the fandom loves to bitch and moan about them) is a satisfying experience, because I get to see the building blocks for Korra's time being set up- for example the creation of Republic City. However, my concern is that any future tlok comics will feel unimportant- due to the fact that the characters accomplishments will likely be undone several years later.
I also worry that they're going to try to 'depoliticise' the next show. Dismantling tloks' complex political climate is one alarm bell. Making the new avatar a young child, seemingly even younger than Aang, despite a good chunk of the fans being adults at this point, feels like its hinting towards making the show less complex and 'grown up'. Of course, a protagonist being a certain age doesn't necessarily mean the target audience is supposed to be that age too- however it does set a model of how the world will be mainly shown to us- through the eyes of a young child.
And while Avatar gave us a serious show for kids- atla being relatively deeper than most kids shows of its time, I don't know if Seven Havens will be able to replicate that perfect storm, especially with a lot of kids media nowadays being so heavily scrutinised and policed.
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Also not really as hyped for the earthbending twins concept because I already have MY preferred set of earthbending twins. "Oh but one of them is the Avatar and-" don't care. Beifong twins my belovedst.
They should've somehow kept the naming scheme set by Poi & Ping and Wei & Wing it would've been funny.
#also some of yall are so weirdly parasocial towards bryke its fucken creepy#like simmer down please#avatar#korra#new avatar#earth avatar#the seven havens#seven havens#avatar pavi#legend of korra#tlok#the legend of korra#avatar the legend of korra#atlok#lok#atla#avatar: the last airbender#avatar the last airbender#the last airbender
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this shit happened with bras as well, within the span of a single decade
because of my size and proportions the only nearby store that stocked my size was called Bras'n'Things
some time in early 2010s I bought a softcup bra from there, most comfortable bra I ever owned, it lasted a good few years, holes eventually formed in the band and it got stretched to hell when I gained some weight but the underwire and straps still held together, it became my old reliable backup bra until I gained enough weight it just wouldn't fit anymore
I went back to the store in late 2010s and they told me I'd have to special order a bra in my size or get one a cup size down and a band size up, I got two of the second kind, and special ordered one in my proper size, the moment I saw my old faithful in the catalogue I said 'that one! I want that one!'
the day it arrives I pick it up and excitedly put it on and
it's itchy
it's so so itchy
the fabric they used for the inner lining, which used to be soft and smooth, was course and rough. well that sucked, but maybe it would soften up with some wear
one week later, the underwire busts through the fabric. one week. and then a few weeks after that my other two bras bust through theirs as well
I took them all back, got them replaced, and was asked 'well were you wearing the correct size?' I said 'I was wearing the size your staff fitted me for', they replaced the bras, several weeks later, underwire busts out again
(keep in mind these bras were like $80 a pop)
when one of my really old bras broke I kept the underwire because I thought I could maybe use it for a craft project, I remember it having a rubber tip on each end so the metal wouldn't poke through the fabric
I inspected the underwire for the new bras and found the problem, they hadn't used rubber. they used paint
a few layers of white paint made to look like the rubber tips, the paint had worn off the ends and as a result the hard metal wire poked straight through the fabric
cheap fabric, cheap underwires, and because no other stores stocked anywhere near my size I was basically stuck either constantly getting them replaced, or just sticking with the two non-itchy bras (the other did not soften over time) and just wore them without the underwire (losing me some much needed support)
I refused to buy another expensive ass bra from that garbage ass store
thankfully after my reduction I could finally buy myself cheap bras from regular stores, and somehow the cheap stores have better quality than the expensive specialty store
so many articles about Fast Fashion, not enough articles about what the hell is happening to the quality of clothes
Like okay. People own more pieces of clothing nowadays and they wear them a lesser number of times before throwing them out. BUT.
Why do we pretend like this is pure vanity or careless wastefulness, rather than forced by the qualities of the clothes themselves?
The other day, I was going through boxes of old clothes in the basement in search of fabric to practice sewing on. The difference in quality of the fabrics themselves is shocking! The worn-out old jeans from twenty years ago are MUCH thicker and tougher than anything more recent. My old baby clothes are made as sturdy as my work clothes from today.
In the past couple years, I have had entire seams rip out of clothes on the first wash. That's not normal!
Polyester blend shirts that feel cozy and soft when they are new, become scratchy and rough after 20 washes or so. I am trying to avoid polyester, but it gets harder and harder; the other day i couldn't find a single pack of crew socks that was 100% cotton. SOCKS!
Also, pilling is out of control. The newest pants I bought developed pills within a single day of walking around campus with a backpack.
These companies are trying to frog-boil us but touching clothes from twenty years ago, the useless crap of today would stick out like a sore thumb...
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A Taste of His Own Medicine
⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒ ⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹
Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x F!Reader
Synopsis: When Katsuki brings you home to meet his parents, what was supposed to be a simple introduction turns into an all-out battle of wits, insults, and dominance, leaving him utterly defeated as his own mother chooses you over him.
⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒ ⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹
Katsuki Bakugou had faced a lot of dangerous situations in his life—villains, explosions, life-or-death battles. But nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared him for the moment he brought you home to meet his parents.
“Listen, my old hag’s annoying as hell, so don’t let her get to you,” he muttered, gripping your hand as you both stood at the doorstep.
You gave him a look. “Katsuki, she’s your mother.”
“Yeah, and?”
Before you could scold him, the door slammed open.
“TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH, YOU DAMN BRAT!” Mitsuki Bakugou stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, scowling at her son like he’d just committed the greatest sin of all time. “WHAT, YOU FORGOT WHERE YOUR OWN HOUSE WAS?!”
Katsuki clicked his tongue. “MAYBE IF YOU WEREN’T ALWAYS YELLING, I WOULDN’T HAVE TO THINK TWICE ABOUT COMING HOME, YOU OLD HAG!”
SMACK!
The entire house went silent.
Your hand was now firmly planted on the back of Katsuki’s head. He stumbled forward, eyes wide in pure betrayal, whipping around to face you.
“WHAT THE HELL, WOMAN?!”
You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “That’s your mother, you fucker! Show some damn respect!”
“THE HELL DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!”
Mitsuki’s jaw dropped, then—
“PFTTTT—HAHAHAHAHA!” She threw her head back, cackling like she had just won the lottery. “OH MY GOD, I LOVE HER!”
“LIKE HELL YOU DO!” Katsuki barked, rubbing the back of his head. “SHE JUST ASSAULTED ME!”
“You deserved it, you disrespectful gremlin!” you shot back. “Seriously, what kind of son yells at his mom like that?”
“I’VE BEEN YELLING AT HER FOR YEARS, AND NOW YOU GOT A DAMN PROBLEM WITH IT?!”
“Yes, because I have manners! Something you apparently lack!”
Mitsuki wiped away a tear from laughing so hard. “Ohhh, she’s perfect! You’re officially approved, sweetheart. You are absolutely going to be my daughter-in-law.”
You grinned back. “Happy to be here, Mom.”
Katsuki let out a primal scream. “I’M STILL YOUR SON! HOW THE HELL ARE YOU PICKING HER OVER ME?!” Mitsuki shrugged. “Because she’s not a little brat.” Katsuki choked. “THE HELL YOU JUST SAY?!”
“You heard me, brat.” Mitsuki grinned at you. “I’ve been waiting YEARS for someone to smack some sense into this idiot. Welcome to the family.”
You smirked at Katsuki. “See? Your mom likes me more than you.”
Katsuki’s eye twitched. “LIKE HELL SHE DOES!”
“Like hell I don’t!” Mitsuki shot back.
“I’M YOUR ACTUAL KID, YOU OLD HAG!”
“AND SHE’S BETTER THAN YOU!”
“LIKE HELL SHE IS!”
“I BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS WORLD AND GRACED YOU WITH MY GENES—DON’T MAKE ME SHOVE YOU BACK UP MY VAGINA!”
Masaru spit out his tea.
“WHAT THE ACTUAL FU—?!” Katsuki turned horrified. “WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT?! HAVE SOME FUCKING MANNERS!”
You choked on your drink. “OH MY GOD.”
Mitsuki grinned. “YOU WANNA ACT LIKE A LITTLE SHIT, I’LL SEND YOU BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM.”
⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒ ⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹
He was losing his mind now.
This was supposed to be a simple introduction. Bring you home, let you meet his parents, and get the hell out before anything too embarrassing happened. But no. Instead, you and his traitor of a mother had become best friends within minutes, and somehow, the two of you were teaming up against him. “This is mutiny,” he muttered under his breath, arms crossed as he glared at the two of you laughing like old friends. Masaru sipped his tea quietly, already accepting that this night belonged to chaos.
“Alright, listen up,” he grumbled, arms crossed as he stood at the head of the table. “I officially brought her here to introduce her to you, so stop running your damn mouths for a second.”
Mitsuki snorted. “What, so we weren’t already introduced when she smacked you upside the head?” You smirked. “Pretty sure that was the best introduction I could’ve made.”
Katsuki shot you a glare. “The hell is that supposed to mean?!”
“It means you deserved it,” you replied sweetly.
Mitsuki cackled. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders. Unlike you.”
Katsuki groaned. “Tch. Whatever.” He sighed, resigned to his fate. “Fine. This is my girlfriend, (Y/N).”
Masaru smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. You seem like a wonderful young lady.” Mitsuki grinned. “A smart young lady, too. I like this one.”
Katsuki clicked his tongue. “Yeah, yeah, whatever—can we eat now, old hag?”
SMACK!
For the second time that night, your hand connected with the back of his head. Katsuki whipped around, eyes blazing. “THAT’S THE SECOND FUCKING TIME PRINCESS,”
You planted your hands on your hips. “What do you think, Katsuki? You will not call your mom like that while I’m here!”
“She doesn’t care—”
“I CARE!” you snapped.
Mitsuki threw her head back in laughter. “Oh, this is hilarious,” Masaru sighed. “We did try to raise him with manners…”
You crossed your arms. “Now, say it properly.” Katsuki scowled. “Like hell I will.”
“Oh, yes you will,” you countered. “Now, repeat after me: Can we eat now, Moomm~~?”
Katsuki twitched. “No.” You smirked, tapping your fingers on the table. “Alright then, let’s break it down,” You lifted a finger. “M.”
Mitsuki gasped dramatically. “Oh my god, she’s spelling it out for him,” Masaru chuckled behind his tea. Katsuki’s eye twitched. “Don’t you dare—”
You lifted a second finger. “O.”
Katsuki growled. “I swear to fucking god—”
A third finger. “M.”
Mitsuki was shaking from laughter. “THE DISRESPECT! HE’S BEING TAUGHT LIKE A DAMN TODDLER!”
Katsuki turned to his father, seething. “ARE YOU JUST GONNA SIT THERE AND LET THIS HAPPEN?!”
Masaru gave him a helpless smile. “Well… you really should call your mom properly, son.”
Katsuki nearly flipped the table. You leaned closer, lips barely an inch from his ear. “C’mon, Katsuki~. Say it properly,
or… I’LL. REPEAT. IT”
Katsuki gritted his teeth. His body shook with barely contained rage. Finally, through pure suffering, he muttered—
“…Can we eat now,
…Mom.”
The room went silent.
Then—
Mitsuki slammed her hand on the table and howled. Masaru sighed in relief.
You? You just grinned and reached up to press a quick, soft kiss on Katsuki’s lips.
Instant shutdown.
Katsuki turned beet red as he stood frozen in place. You patted his cheek. “Good boy,”
Mitsuki was wheezing at this point. “HOLY SHIT—HE LOOKS LIKE HIS BRAIN JUST SHORT CIRCUITED!” Masaru chuckled. “Well, at least she knows how to calm him down.”
Katsuki snapped out of it and pointed at his mom. “YOU’RE NEVER SPEAKING OF THIS AGAIN,” Mitsuki wiped away a tear. “Like hell I won’t. I’m calling your aunt about this.”
“LIKE HELL YOU ARE!”
As Katsuki and his mom bickered, you just sipped your tea, completely at peace.
Yeah. You were definitely part of this family now.
⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒ ⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹
A/N: I hope you enjoy this new piece! Let me know your thoughts in the comments. Also, thank you for all the love and support—it truly warms my heart to see you reading my work.
© 2025 CODE:BKXY — All rights reserved. Please don't post my work as your own on any other sites.
#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo x female reader#katsuki x y/n#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo mha#mha#mha fanfiction#bakugou fluff#bakugou x y/n#mha bakugou#katsuki bakugo x reader#mha x reader#comedy#bakugou mitsuki#masaru bakugou#katsuki x reader
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DONNIE DARKO
male reader, bathroom sex, eye fucking(not literally), top submissive donnie, yearning, saliva/oral fixation, don't fuck in bathrooms realistically, secret relationship, donnie loves rough gay sex
note: yo im back huzz
the boy had been eyeing you the entire day. eyes scanning your face, your figure, and even when you looked towards you he kept staring with absolutely no shame.
you knew when he had his thoughts about you, it was clear as day — at least to you that is. and he made it entirely too obvious when he answered a number in english class.
"donnie? donnie!" "mhm." "the answer?" he shrugged, not even looking at the board. "four." some students snickered, the ginger woman just scoffed and even chuckled a bit herself. "donnie..math class is next door."
he had mumbled a small sorry, most likely inaudible to anyone but he apologized none the less.
at lunch he wouldn't really keep his hands off of you, he tried to keep it as friendly as he could but he kept on fidgeting and squeezing you when he'd hang onto you, and each time you moved his grip would get tighter.
you set your spoon down as you finished eating the fruit inside of the cup, licking your lips to get some of the sweet juice off and swallowing the last bit. you were about to get up until donnie pulled you back down and almost making you spill and drop all your stuff into the floor.
sure the janitors could clean it but it was still nice to not keep everything on the floor. "what— donnie? dude, what's your problem?" his face scrunched up, even if your relationship was a secret he'd just prefer 'donnie' not 'dude'. "where are you going?" his voice was breathy, eyes looking up towards yours like he needed the contact to stay to survive.
"just gonna..throw my trash away?" he took a few seconds, making a noise of understanding before letting go of you.
his arm dragged you along into the bathroom , your feet tripping up along the tiles. only an hour left of school— he needed this.
"please.." he muttered, letting your body back up against the corner so you couldn't be seen if anyone were to walk in. though he didn't really care much, his boner had been on and off the whole day and he was losing his damn mind.
"donnie.." you needed him just as badly, you bit at the skin of your lip a little nervous. if you said yes, there could be a possibility of someone walking in seeing donnie fucking you against a wall.
if you said no, he would give you looks the rest of the day just to make you feel bad.
"you can't wait till we get home? i mean.." he made a small 'mm-mm', hands going from your arm, to your waist, to the belt holding up your uniform pants. unclipping it, letting it go loose along the waist line. his hands went underneath your thighs signalling he was about to pick you up.
he didn't wanna do it from behind, he desperately needed to see your face. he needed to see how much he was pleasing you.
his hips thrusted upwards into you, skin slapping and most likely echoing along the bathroom walls. if anyone were to walk by and get curious they'd hear more than just that. they could hear your small whimpers, gasps, and smothered moans. donnie's head in your neck, and his hand on your mouth to try and keep you quiet.
you could hear his little noises too, voice a bit high pitched and calling out your name. "i love you..oh, god.." eyes rolled back, and his head moving from your neck to look you in your eyes.
watery with tears, iris's dazing off on how good he felt inside of you. he could feel your saliva building up onto his palm, like you were so fucked out you couldn't focus on anything else anymore.
his hand moved from your mouth, his own lips connecting with yours the moment they did. your lips flushed against his, trying to keep up with his pace as he kissed you roughly.
he let the kiss break, a line of saliva connecting. this was all he needed, all he would ever need is you anyways.
"..so.." he looked at you as you practically limped down the schools stairs with your bag on your back. your eyes flared over at him whilst you scoffed. this is why you hated fucking in school because it isn't a good idea to walk right after.
"are you mad at me?" "fuck off."
#bottom male reader#male reader#bottom reader#jake gyllenhaal#jake gyllenhaal smut#jake gyllenhaal x male reader#jake gyllenhaal x reader#jake gyllenhaal x you#male you#male y/n#donnie darko x y/n#donnie darko x male reader#donnie darko x reader#donnie darko smut#donnie darko
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I had no idea you're a professional photographer! I mostly follow your other blog for Corgis - if you posted your work there and I missed it, I apologize.
Your photography is AMAZING and thank you for sharing tips on light!
Bonus if you have time: when did you develop (haha!) interest for it and what's your favorite thing about this medium? ☆
Thank you. I have been trying to go back to my older work and edit things with my current skills and I have been posting that on occasion.
I also have an Instagram which is sort of like my current portfolio until I have the energy to create a proper website.
It's funny you mention corgis because Otis was the reason I got a proper camera. My followers helped me raise the money to get him and I felt like he belonged to everyone. So I wanted to make sure I took lots of photos of his shenanigans for people to enjoy. If they couldn't have a corgi of their own, I wanted them to live vicariously.
I never do anything halfway. I always go quite overboard. I filled my brain with everything I could possibly learn about photography so I could take the best possible photos of Otis.
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In the process of doing that, I realized I loved the art form. So even though Otis isn't around anymore, I owe him for giving me this wonderful creative outlet.
I took a long hiatus from photography when my parents got sick and I had to take care of them. Even though I stopped taking photos, I would watch photography education to help me relax. And it felt a bit like that meme of the dude studying the blade. I was learning some very advanced stuff.
Once my parents both passed I found myself with a giant hole in my life. And photography called me once again. I was a bit rusty operating the camera for a day or two, but because I had continued my learning, it all came back pretty quick. And I realized I was orders of magnitude better at photography, lighting, and post processing than I used to be.
My first photoshoot after 7 years was of my aunt and uncle. I didn't have much in the way of lighting equipment (I sold it to help my family), so I bounced a little flash off one of those science fair trifold thingies.
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These shots made me realize I definitely needed photography back in my life. I figured if I could do that with cardboard I found at Walmart, I would have great potential with proper equipment. So I'm in the process of building a new studio and getting some new gear so I can show off what I'm capable of now.
I ran into a little medical hiccup a few months ago which put everything on pause. While I'm recovering I'm not really able to take any photos. So I've decided to try and write some photography education and help others with their photographic journeys as best I can. And I am still continuing to learn and planning what I want to photograph when my health is in better shape.
I really want to do high quality animal portraiture. Not just cats and dogs. I want to find other exotic pets too. And I also want to do an art project where I help people take high quality photos of their parents. One of the things I was most grateful for after my folks died was the photos I took of them.
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And also this one I took of my grandmother.
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Having a really high quality photo of people you love is so important. And I don't think everyone realizes that. So I'm hoping I can help folks capture these important memories.
Oh, my favorite thing. I almost forgot. I would say it is the problem solving. Every photo is a new puzzle for me. Especially if I am working with artificial lighting and modifiers. I enjoy imagining a photo in my head and then going through the process, solving problems, and realizing what I imagined in real life. It's a great feeling.
This photo of my friend Ryan comes to mind. I just had this vision of someone reading in the middle of a forest. And so we dragged lights to my neighbors yard and I taped a flash inside the lampshade.
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The Sun that Always Burns | S.JY
chapter 2: it falls apart
sim jaeyun x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), protected sex, oral (f.rec), fingering, petnames (baby, princess), slight exhibitionism, the end of this chapter hurts (sorry), angst/fluff, not really proofread, anything else please lmk! w.c: 17.4k synopsis: high school is ending, jaeyun has your future all planned out, but when life throws you a curveball and you make a rash decision to protect you and jaeyun...it falls apart a/n: hi! chapter 2 is here <33 a massive thank you for all the lovely comments and feedback with chapter one, it means so much to me. this chapter is a little sore if you love ynjake but it i also preparing you for much worse so!! enjoy!
chapter 1 | masterlist | chapter 3
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As the end of high school loomed over you like sleep paralysis, you found yourself in a nightmarish swamp of college brochures, scrolling through endless websites in search of something - literally anything - that might ignite a spark of interest. That was the big problem, though. You weren’t passionate about anything that could translate into a career. Your teen brain only sought after one end goal and that was Jaeyun. He was all you could think about; the only future you’re certain of.
Jaeyun, on the other hand, has always known what he wants. Apollo College in Busan. It has been his dream for as long as he can remember. He spoke about it even way back when you two were mearley best friends. He was born to study mathematical physics, his mind a labyrinth of theories and equations you could barely wrap your head around - which isn’t saying much, you barely know your times tables.
But, yet, you listen to him go on about it over and over again because you loved nothing more than the way his eyes lit up whenever he spoke about quantum mechanics, the way his enthusiasm turned the most mundane concepts into something alive. Even though physics itself bored you to tears, listening to him talk about it made it feel like poetry.
Sometimes, you even make him read out the study material to you just so you actually consume some knowledge. His accent mixed with his drive to help you actually did positively impact your grades even if only slightly.
You, however, had nothing of passion like that. No grand ambitions, no clear direction. And Jaeyun, despite being your greatest love, was not exactly a viable career option. As much as you’d love to be his full-time trophy wife, reality wasn’t so forgiving.
“What about Apollo, though?” Jaeyun asked, his eyes glued to his phone as he scrolls through yet another website on your bedroom floor. “They offer some ND-level courses. You could do one of those.”
You scoff, tossing a balled-up piece of paper at him from your bed. “Baby, be serious. I am not applying to a college for geniuses.”
Jaeyun catches the paper with ease, smirking as he sets his phone aside, full undivided attention on you. He gets up slowly, moving to sit next to you on your flower-patterned bedding. “You could totally pull it off. Imagine it - my girl, a woman in STEM.” He gives you a slow once-over, his smirk deepening. “It’s kinda hot, actually. Very hot.”
Rolling your eyes, you snatch his glasses off his face and slide them onto your own. Peering at him over the rims, you let your voice dip into something sultry. “Oh? Like this?”
Something dark flickers in his gaze. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you don’t miss the way his jaw tenses, nostrils flaring slightly in arousal. He’s never outright admitted it, but you know he has a thing for you in glasses. You’re not above teasing him about it either. Times when you want him to focus on you rather than his work, you’ll put on a pair of his specs, biting your lip and cradle his lap between your thighs. It’s a sure win tactic.
Now, if only you put as much effort into school and your future as you did seducing your boyfriend into bed.- you could make it to Harvard with top honors.
“My girl looks good all the time,” he murmurs, shifting closer, “but you in STEM? That’s marriage material, baby. I’ll wife you up right now.”
Heat creeps up your neck, his eyes eating you whole as he tries to trap you between him and the bed, ready to fuck a ‘yes’ out of you and get your acceptance to apply for a University you know you don’t stand a chance in.
So instead of giving in, you finally gain your bones back, prying your eyes away from his love-drunk gaze. You place a finger against his forehead and push him back before he can close the distance.
“Jaeyun, this is serious.”
Jaeyun groans dramatically, flopping onto his back and staring blankly at the ceiling, his cock sighing at your rejection. “I am serious. You need a college and - okay, if not Apollo - Busan has loads. One of them has to have something you like. Something you can apply for so we can be close.”
You bite your lip, fingers drumming against the laptop keyboard. “What if I don’t find anything? What if I get stuck here, living with my parents forever, only seeing you once a month or something?”
That gets his attention.
He sits up straighter, his expression sobering in an instant. “Y/N, if you can’t find something here, I’ll look somewhere else. My grades are good enough to get in anywhere.” It’s a subtle brag but you know he’s right.
But that doesn’t mean he can just give up his dream school that he has spent countless nights dreaming and studying to get in to. You refuse to watch him throw it all away for you. It’s a ridiculous notion, one you can’t sit and watch him contemplate for more than a second.
“No,” you say immediately, shaking your head. “I am not letting you give up your dream school because I’m too thick to get into a single college.”
“But you’re my dream, Y/N. I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go. I’d give up anything for you, you know that.” His serious expression makes you a little uncomfortable. “I’ll get an apprenticeship or just a job if there isn’t a course for me.”
There is something about hearing him say he’ll throw his aspirations out the window for you that hurts your heart and you don't know why. It’s romantic, most girls would kill for a boy so understanding. But that’s not how you see it.
“Jaeyun don’t say that,” discarding your laptop and shuffling towards him, hoping the closer you are, the further deep your words will reach him, convince him. “I didn’t watch you need an IV drip from studying so hard just for you to not go.”
Something unreadable flickers across his face before he exhales, dropping his gaze. “I might not even get in, y’know.”
Immediately, your hands come up to cradle his face. “Baby, you’re a shoe-in. You’re the smartest person I know.”
You always wondered why your boyfriend has such a hard time believing in his own abilities. He knows he’s smart, and he knows that colleges are falling at his feet to get his brains and athleticism on their roster. But something about when Jaeyun truly wants something, like this college, like you, he just lacks the self belief that he is even good enough for it.
You run your thumbs over his cheekbones, watching as he leans into your touch. “I just wish you could see yourself the way I do. You’re born to do amazing things, and one of them is attend Apollo.”
His lips curl into a small, sad smile, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrists. “You always say stuff like that.”
“Because it’s true,” you whisper.
He holds your gaze for a long moment studying you, like he’s signing a final document in his mind. A declaration of some sorts. He looks a little nervous, haunted by the prospect of something that he won’t say.
“Baby?” You nudge him. “What’s wrong?”
Jaeyun hesitates before speaking, kissing your palms slowly before letting go. “I mean it, Y/N. I’ll go anywhere you go. I don’t care where. I just - I can’t do long-distance. I know what happens in long-distance relationships.” His fingers curl into the blanket beneath him, hurting at even the prospect of this reality. “At first, we’ll talk all the time. Then life gets in the way, and suddenly we’re only FaceTiming once a week. Then it’s just texting because that’s easier, and before we know it, we barely talk at all. And then you’ll meet someone else - someone less clingy, more attractive, someone who can actually be there. And we’ll break up.”
His voice is thick as he barely manages to push out the final words.
Your heart aches to see him like this, so doubtful. “Jaeyun,” you murmur, waiting until he meets your eyes. His are glossy, filled with a fear he doesn’t want to voice but can’t hide. “I’m not going anywhere. I will find a school in Busan. I will be right beside you for as long as you’ll have me. And we will never break up. Okay?”
Deep down you feel his concerns too. Of course you do. Long distance isn’t for the faint hearted; there’s more chance to misinterpret words and texts, less chance to keep the bonded knot sturdy between you. And with him saying all this, talking about how long distance wouldn’t work for you both, it make you start to really question the what ifs.
But right now you have to convince Jaeyun that everything will be fine, all while trying to convince yourself in the process. Doubts that weren’t on your mind now are, but you push them down as far as you can - stamping on them like you’re trying to fit one more piece of trash in the can.
Jaeyun searches your face for any sign of hesitation, but he finds none. Slowly, he nods.
A breath of relief escapes you, and you lean in, pressing a faint kiss to his lips. “I love you, you idiot. Nothing will break us apart, okay?”
Jaeyun chuckles against your mouth, kissing you again, lingering this time. “I love you too.”
When you pull away, you shoot him a teasing grin. “Now come on, use that big sexy brain of yours to help me get into college.”
Jaeyun’s laughter fills the room, and just like that, the weight in his chest lightens. You spend the rest of the night filling out applications, finding comfort in the promise that, no matter what, you will find a way to stay together.
________
Rejection. Rejection. Rejection.
You open the next email, already bracing yourself. Another rejection - your seventh, to be exact.
With a sigh, you lock your phone and rub at your temples. Time is slipping through your fingers. It has been two months since you sat in your bedroom, applying to a million and one colleges, and now, with just six weeks left, your options are very quickly dwindling.
He’s moving to Busan. You’re supposed to be moving with him. But if nowhere accepts you…then what?
Your mind drifts back to the moment Jaeyun’s future was set in stone, the day he got his acceptance letter from Apollo.
There’s a frantic knock at the door, so insistent it makes your dad yank it open with a scowl. "Who the fuc—Oh, Jake. What’s the big rush?" he grumbles, irritation fading as he takes in Jaeyun’s breathless excitement.
"Is Y/N here? I need to see her," Jaeyun pants, his eyes already darting past your dad, ready to bolt up the stairs.
Your dad barely has time to nod before Jaeyun is kicking off his shoes and taking the steps two at a time.
"I think Jaeyun got into college," your dad remarks to your mum, who peeks around the corner, watching the whirlwind with a mixture of amusement and wonder.
In your room, you’re hunched over your desk, drowning in revision, completely unaware of the storm about to hit you. Your hair is a mess in a sloppy bun, your baggy sweatpants are the same ones you slept in, and Jaeyun’s old football jersey - the one he gave you after his first high school championship win - hangs loosely from your frame. You look like a typical stressed teenager.
When he reaches your doorway, he stops, his chest heaving, eyes drinking you in like he’s seeing you for the first time. "Beautiful…" he murmurs under his breath.
You look up, blinking at him in confusion. "Jaeyun? What are you doing here? I thought I was meeting you later."
He strides over, thrusting an envelope towards you, his hands trembling slightly with anticipation, mouth too dry to speak. You take it cautiously, eyes flicking to his face before unfolding the letter.
"Dear Mr. Sim," you read aloud, heart pounding. "We have received an overwhelming number of applications for the Mathematical Physics BSc Honours programme. However, we are delighted to offer you a place-"
Your breath catches. The words blur as they register in your mind.
"Jaeyun," you whisper. "You got in?"
He nods, disbelief still written across his face despite the confirmation in black and white. A squeal erupts from your throat before you can stop it, and in the next moment, you launch yourself at him. He catches you with ease, arms locking tightly around your waist as he spins you slightly, laughter bubbling from his lips.
Joy and pride flood the room, washing away the quiet rejection that has lived here for too long. At least once, this space gets to witness a letter that doesn’t end in an apology.
"This is amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you!" The words spill from you, breathless but nonetheless filled with exhilaration. You pull back just enough to cup his face, your thumbs brushing over the warmth of his cheeks. "You fucking did it."
His grin is blinding, eyes crinkled with elation. In this moment, Jaeyun is the picture of someone whose dreams are finally within reach. And God, you love him. You’re proud of him. But deep down, in a place you don’t dare voice, you envy him.
That memory snaps like a rubber band in your mind as you force yourself back to reality. You mutter a quiet, ‘fuck’ stuffing your phone into your pocket before heading to class, the weight of failure dragging behind you.
Nowhere wants you. Not Busan, not Yangsan-Si, not even Gimhae.
You picked courses regarding subjects you enjoy in school, or rather, got decent enough grades in to hopefully scrape a pity acceptance. But it wasn’t enough. You aren’t enough.
Only two options remain.
One is a short twenty-minute commute from Jaeyun’s future campus. The other? Four hours away, tucked on the outskirts of Pyeongchang. You never mentioned that one to him. You didn’t really think you needed to. It was your ‘just in case’ choice - the one you assumed you’d never have to consider.
Now, it remains as possibly one of your only options.
Your feet feel heavier as you step into class, suddenly feeling the weight of having to tell your boyfriend that one of the only colleges you have left as a viable future is in fact going to induce his worst fear - long distance.
Jaeyun’s face lights up the second he spots you cross the threshold, waving you over with that easy, boyish grin of his. His chair is turned away from his desk as he chats with Jay and Heeseung, completely at ease.
"Baby, come here!" he calls out to you, unbothered by the eyes that shift toward him with his echoing accent. Jaeyun has never been quiet about his affection for you. The class, especially the girls, hate it, but he doesn’t care - could not give a single fuck.
You smile fondly at his gesture, letting the warmth of his presence chase away your spiraling thoughts as best as they can. He has a way of taking everything dark and making them disappear.
As you move to sit beside Jay, Jaeyun tugs you onto his lap instead, his arms looping around your waist effortlessly, snuggling you into him like a puzzle piece. Jaeyun presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder in response, his smile smug, utterly unashamed.
"You guys are disgusting." Jay, Jaeyun’s friend, groans, pretending to vomit.
"It’s a good thing you two are going to college together," Heeseung teases, leaning back in his chair as he pats Jaeyun’s arm. "I think my man here might actually die if he’s away from you for more than three minutes."
That sinking feeling starts to rise again, quick and overwhelming.
"Yeah, he wouldn’t last a day long distance," Jay adds, nudging Jaeyun’s knee.
The words dig under your skin, settling like lead in your stomach.
There is one more chance.
Feigning nonchalance, you slip from Jaeyun’s grasp, prying his hands from your waist. "As much as I love being the source of your collective disgust," you joke lightly, "I need to pee before class starts."
Jaeyun pouts slightly, his hand hovering at yours in a weak attempt to hold you captive, but lets you go, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before you escape. “Don’t take too long, baby.”
Plastering on a fake smile, you nudge your nose with his as a promise before walking out briskly, weaving through the throngs of students in the hallway until you reach the bathroom. The second you’re alone, you exhale sharply, pressing your hands against the sink, gripping tight at the edges as you try to find some balance in this chaotic mess.
The doubt creeps in again, insidious and unwelcome.
It’s not that you don’t believe long distance can work. It’s that you know it won’t work for him. He said it himself, he can’t do it. He can’t imagine you not by his side, to hold you every morning, to kiss and cuddle you when he’s stressed or just needing to feel you. He is willing to give up everything to be with you.
A familiar ping echoes through the empty bathroom. Your fingers scramble to unlock your phone, heart hammering as you read the notification.
Mail: Offer Update – Kyungsung University.
Your pulse thunders. This is it. Your last chance. Last chance to make this right and start your life with him in Busan.
With a deep breath and shaky heart, you open the email.
Rejection.
Your breath catches. The world tilts.
There are no more chances.
Shit.
You stare at your reflection in the mirror. The girl looking back at you is unrecognisable - eyes red, lips trembling, the weight of disappointment heavy in her gaze. A choked sob escapes your throat before you can stop it.
You’re going to lose him.
Jaeyun’s voice echoes in your mind. I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go. I’d give up anything for you.
He meant it. He would give it all up. But the thought of letting him do that? Of being the reason he threw away his dreams? That’s a burden too heavy to bear.
Another ping comes from your phone and you squeeze your eyes shut to get rid of the tears that blur your vision.
Mail: Offer Update: Avanti College
Dear Miss L/N,
We have received your application. After much consideration, we would be delighted to offer you a place at Avanti College for the study of Film and Media. As you may be aware, our school terms begin earlier than others. We will send you by post appropriate packages for you to start in July. For now, we have attached a link to our module selection system. Please choose your classes as soon as possible, as spaces are filling quickly.
We look forward to welcoming you next month.
Yours sincerely,Mr Suh Kyung MinHead of Recruitment.
You read it once. Then again. Then a third time.
Your vision sharpens, the crushing weight in your chest momentarily lifting. You got in.
Somewhere wants you.
A sharp, disbelieving laugh escapes your lips as you clutch the phone tighter. Against all odds, someone out there believes you're good enough. You have a future. The rejection after rejection, the sinking dread, the hopelessness - it’s all gone in an instant, replaced by the undeniable proof staring back at you.
But then that spark of joy fades as the rain of your situation comes pouring down. It’s four hours away from Busan. Four hours away from the love of your life. It would oddly be easier to accept that you just weren’t meant to go to college at all, but to know that your future is here in this email makes you wonder if it’s a sign.
A sign that Jaeyun is meant to flourish without you, or vice verca.
So what do you do?
Tell Jaeyun the truth - that you didn’t get into any of the colleges near him. That the only offer you received is one that will take you miles away. But you already know what he’ll do. He’ll throw everything away for you without hesitation. He’ll give up his dream university, his future, everything, just to stay by your side.
Or.
Don’t tell him. Accept the offer, pack your bags, and disappear. Leave behind your friends, your family - everyone who might cave and tell Jaeyun where you’ve gone. If you vanish without a word, he’ll have no choice but to continue on the path he worked so hard for.
The second option feels right - a little drastic. But right. There is no way you are going to be the one to leave Jaeyun’s future desolate, you couldn’t offer him a future better than the one he had already set out for himself.
So you just won’t tell him. Disappear forever and delude yourself that he’ll move on easily.
Does his happiness and future mean more to you than your own? Absolutely. And for him to propel the way you know he can, you need to let him follow his path, even if that means sacrificing your own joy.
Looking back in the mirror, your reflection is hollow. Distant. The girl staring back at you is already grieving something she hasn’t even lost yet.
Now, you have another choice; make this the best few weeks with Jaeyun, or slowly break away to make the situation easier on you both. Deep down you knew even if you tried to distance yourself, he would find a way to see you. He would move heaven and earth to get into your heart and eventually rip the truth from the chest you’re keeping locked away in there.
So, you can only do one thing - give your undivided attention to him just as you have all these years. Give him all the love you have, enough to fill the rest of his years with.
You have roughly five weeks. Five weeks before you’re away to live a completely new life. You’ll have to remind yourself why you’re doing this, why you’re hurting yourself by leaving your only love.
But it’s for him. All of it.
_______
Two weeks have passed and two weeks remain until you leave for Pyeongchang, and you’ve mastered the art of concealing your hurt. Jaeyun keeps asking if you’ve heard back from colleges, his curiosity growing sharper each time, but you just shrug and steer the conversation elsewhere. He’s getting suspicious, his gaze lingering a little too long when you deflect, but you reassure him with the same excuse - there’s still time. Most of your applications were for clearance spots, and they tend to respond last minute.
He buys it. For now.
With exams over and school finally behind you, the only logical way for your entire year to celebrate is a party - a big one; one that could rival any American movie you’ve seen. Now that all of you can legally drink, there’s no limit to how much alcohol will be passed around - tequila, Sourz, Sambuca, Jager, all of the above is being checked in. And because the chances of seeing any of these people again are practically nonexistent, you want to let loose.
No, you need to.
For weeks, worry and dread have gnawed at you, and tonight, you crave the kind of recklessness that will drown it all out. You want to get fucked up in the most unpolitest way possible. That does run the risk of blurting out your secret to Jaeyun, however, you plan to pass the blabbermouth stage of drunk and go right to blottered.
Ryujin and Yeji are on their way to pick you and Jaeyun up from his house. Yeji, having lost a brutal game of rock, paper, scissors, is stuck as the designated driver and won’t shut up about how unfair it is. Meanwhile, Jaeyun is already dressed, effortlessly stunning in a blue double-denim outfit layered over a white graphic tee. Silver chains glint against his chest, hanging from his black D&G belt, and the rings you’ve felt on your throat more times than you can count adorn his fingers. A pearl necklace - Heeseung’s gift - rests against his collarbones, catching the light as he scrolls through his phone. His hair, styled the way he likes it, is perfectly parted, his forehead on display.
Jaeyun is the most gorgeous boy you have ever seen, and somehow, you find something new to admire about him every single day.
Stepping out of the bathroom, you catch sight of his reflection and pause, noticing the subtle change in his frame. You see him every day but something about the way his clothes are sitting on him places your view on him differently. He’s broader, taller, more…handsome. Some of his teenage features lost from the long nights of studying and passing time.
“Have you been going to the gym?” you ask, adjusting your earrings, your tone casual but your curiosity piqued.
He shrugs with his eyes still glued to his screen as he scrolls mindlessly. “Dunno. Must be all the extra lifting at work. Shit’s heavy, y’know?”
Don’t you know it. You work in a shitty convenience store too, and you know how heavy boxes can be. But you aren’t exactly walking around like Beth Pheonix.
Jaeyun still sits there, attention averted to some weird TikTok video that only he could get on his fyp. You huff, watching him intently, waiting - willing - him to notice the effort you put into your appearance. The white two-piece you bought for tonight leaves little to the imagination, hugging you in all the right places. You feel powerful, sexy. But he doesn’t even glance up.
Dragging your tongue over your teeth, you step behind him, your hands gliding over his shoulders, fingers pressing gently into his muscles. “You have gotten bigger,” you purr, letting your touch linger.
Jaeyun hums in response, still distracted, and that simply won’t do. If he won’t pay attention on his own, you’ll make him.
With slow, calculated movements, you step around to his front, one knee pressing onto the chair as you straddle his lap. His body tenses as you come closer into proximity, but his eyes remain trained on his phone. Not for long. You settle your weight against him, tilting your head as you wait for him to look at you.
And then he does.
His mouth parts slightly, eyes dragging over your moisturised body, darkening with each passing second. The phone is forgotten, locked and tossed aside without a second thought.
“Fuck, baby.”
You smirk vitoriously, lips curving as you bite down on the corner of your lip. “Do I look good?” Your fingers skim up his chest, curling around his neck as you shift your hips, pressing against him just enough to tease.
Jaeyun’s hands find your waist instinctively, gripping you tight. His voice is lower, rougher when he speaks. “Shit, Princess, you look ethereal.” His fingers flex against your exposed skin to make sure you’re really there. “Do we have to go? I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this.”
A laugh bubbles up in your chest but is cut off as he leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a lingering kiss. His thumbs brush over the fabric of your outfit, possessive, debating whether to peel it off or let you wear it just so he can show you off. He’ll be the envy of everyone in that house, he knows that for sure.
“Yes,” you breathe against his lips, pulling back just enough to see the frustration flicker across his face. “I wanna get drunk and dance.” You slide off his lap, tugging at his hand. “And you get to tell everyone that this” - you gesture to yourself, “is all yours.”
Jaeyun rolls his eyes, but the smirk playing at his lips betrays him. “Baby, don’t tempt me. I’ll go into that party and put on a show so they know who you belong to.”
A quiet moan slips past your lips when his hands beging to kneed your ass, fingers pulsing enough to bruise. His brow quirks at your reaction to his words. “Oh? Do you like that idea?” His grip tightens. “Should I just bend you over in the middle of the party and fu-”
Your hand flies over his mouth, cutting him off as you dissolve into laughter. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”
Jaeyun just grins, shrugging as he pulls your hand from his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm before intertwining your fingers with his. “We should head downstairs and say goodbye to my parents.”
He turns to leave, but you yank him back, stealing another kiss. It’s deep, slow, filled with a desperation you can’t name. You love having him here, so accessible, so tangible.
Jaeyun groans against your lips, tasting the familiar cherry lip oil that has lingered on his tongue for three years. His fingers tighten around your waist, pulling you flush against him, as if he can’t get enough.
And honestly, he doesn’t think he ever will.
“Jaeyun,” you murmur against his lips, but he only deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth so he can steal the words straight from your breath. His grip tightens around your waist, and you feel the way he presses closer, as if sheer proximity could fuse you together. “Baby, we need to go,” you try again, but your voice is weak, betraying how much you don’t really want to stop either.
“No,” he whines, lifting you effortlessly, his hands firm under your thighs as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. “If we don’t go then I won’t start swinging at guys for looking at you too long.” His voice is a low rasp between kisses, playful yet dark with promise. You throw your head back in laughter, his words of possessivness making you giddy, loved.
But Jaeyun sees an opportunity in your exposed throat. Quickly, his lips latch onto the delicate skin just above your freckle, the one spot he knows makes you quiver with need. The first kiss is featherlight, but then he sucks, a slow, deliberate pull that makes warmth pool low in your stomach. His teeth scrape against you before he soothes the bite with his tongue.
A gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Jaeyun,” you warn, but your voice is breathy, and he knows it’s not real resistance.
He hums in satisfaction, his mouth not relenting, lavishing the same spot with nips and licks until heat prickles under your skin. When he finally pulls away, he inspects his work, and a smirk curls his lips.
“There.” He presses one final, chaste kiss to the fresh mark before looking at you with innocent eyes, as if he hadn’t just branded you in the middle of his bedroom. “Now everyone will know you’re mine.”
You scramble to the mirror, fingers brushing over the forming hickey - deep red and already threatening to turn purple. You sigh, caught between amusement and mild exasperation. “What are you? Thirteen?”
A low chuckle rumbles from behind you. “Just possessive,” he says so simply to his actions claiming to you like a territorial wolf. Then his voice drops into something quieter, something laced with an emotion that knots your stomach. Vulnerability. “Can’t have another Sunghoon situation, now can I?”
The mention of that birthday night makes your chest tighten. You never bring it up. You try to forget it ever happened. A stupid drunken mess that makes your stomach curdle if you give it more than a second thought. But Jaeyun never truly let it go.
His gaze softens as he looks at you though the mirror, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I can’t lose you. Not for anything.”
His words turn over like acid in your belly. You think about what’s coming in two weeks. About the choice you’ve already made. About how he’ll wake up one day, reach for you, and find nothing but an empty space.
You have to tell him.
But you can’t.
So you do the only thing you can - you plaster on a fake-ass smile, slip your arms around his neck, press a lingering kiss to his nose, and lie through your teeth “That won’t happen, babe.”
A car honk from outside saves you from lingering too long in the moment, from staring too deep into his eyes and spilling your darkest secret.
You hear Ryujin’s voice faintly through the window, impatient as ever and Jaeyun takes your hand, fingers lacing through yours like it’s second nature. Together, you rush downstairs, slipping into the night, into the reckless distraction of the party that awaits.
—
By the time you arrive, the place is already alive. Music pulses around the walls, bass vibrating under your feet. Crowds spill onto the lawn, half-drunk students laughing too loud, some already absolutely out of their face, others tucked away into dark corners with frisky hands wandering. The dim lights and shifting strobes give the illusion of being in some underground club rather than a house party.
A bit extreme but who are you to complain? You get a night of free alcohol and a few hours to forget everything plaguing your mind.
“Whose house is this?” you ask absently, eyes flicking over unfamiliar faces.
“Kobayashi Daigo,” Yeji answers, turning toward you with an amused shake of her head. “He was in your class for, like, two years. You don’t remember?”
You blink. The name rings the faintest bell, but you have no memory of ever speaking to him. Which, honestly, isn’t surprising. You were never the type to branch out much beyond your friends. Beyond Jaeyun.
A warm breath ghosts against your ear as Jaeyun leans in. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you a drink.”
His voice is low, teasing. When his tone drops an octave like this, it makes you want to pounce on him instantly. But he doesn’t give you time to respond let alone star in your very own party-porno - his hands find your hips, guiding you through the sea of bodies toward the kitchen. His grip is tight, making sure you don’t slip away.
Ironic.
And maybe it’s reckless, maybe it’s selfish to let him believe you’ll be here forever - but for now, you let yourself melt into his touch, let yourself pretend you’re not counting down the days until you disappear.
The kitchen is warm, hazy with the scent of alcohol and something faintly sweet. Amongst the scattered bottles and half-empty cups, your eyes land on a familiar pink liquid - the unmistakable blush of Tequila Rose. Your favourite drink in the entire world. Like fate, it sits on the counter waiting just for you. But just as your fingers curl around the neck of the bottle, another hand - larger, stronger - grips it, stopping you in place.
“Princess, you want a double?” Jaeyun’s voice is smooth, teasing as he tilts the bottle in his hand, already pouring his own. His eyes flick to yours, awaiting confirmation to the answer he already knows.
You hum, pretending to consider it, before flashing him a knowing smile. “Double.”
Jaeyun grins, pouring the shot to the very brim of the tall glass. The pale pink liquid swirls under the kitchen lights as you lift it to your lips, never once breaking eye contact.
“Cheers,” you say softly.
“Cheers, baby girl.” He knocks his own shot back with ease, slamming the glass onto the worktop with a satisfied exhale ripping from his chest. You watch, mesmerised, as his Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow, the tendons in his neck flexing ever so slightly. His tongue darts out to catch the last lingering drop at the corner of his mouth, and suddenly, the room feels too warm, your own shot burning its way down with more intensity than you expected. It’s not usually this nippy - the milky shot normally a breeze.
“You’re so hot,” you say before you can think twice, the words tumbling from your lips unfiltered.
Jaeyun’s chest rumbles with laughter, his hand already reaching for the bottle again. “I will say the exact same thing about you.” He pours two more shots. “To us, to Busan, to forever.”
The words settle deep in your chest, too heavy for a moment meant to be light. You force a smile and clink your glass against his, swallowing the second shot. The burn is sharper now, the aftertaste bitter in a way it wasn’t before.
You’ll need at least fifteen more to forget that the man in front of you is the one you’re leaving.
—
Three hours later, and the world tilts just slightly.
You aren’t wasted - not yet - but you’re perched on that fragile edge where every movement feels like floating and every sound is cushioned by the pleasant buzz in your veins. The air is heavy with laughter, with the clinking of glasses and the bass of some pop song shaking the walls. Bodies move around you, some swaying, some stumbling, all drowning in the euphoria of the night.
Jaeyun presses in close, his warmth wrapping around you as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Baby, dance with me.”
A shiver snakes down your body as he licks along the shell of your ear before guiding you toward the makeshift dance floor - formerly a living room, now an unholy mess of spilled drinks and swaying bodies. The bass thrums beneath your feet, some pop song pulsing through the speakers, though you hardly register it. Not when Jaeyun presses himself against you, his body molding to yours like second nature.
You move together effortlessly, your hips rolling against him, back arching so that your arse is flush against his front. A moan nearly escapes when you feel him harden beneath you, the heat of it seeping through his jeans. One of your hands reaches back, fingers tangling in his hair as you let yourself get lost in the feeling.
But then something shifts.
Jaeyun’s body goes rigid, his hold on you tightening - not in desire, but in something else entirely.
Curious, you glance up at him, only to find his gaze locked elsewhere, sharp and unrelenting. Following his line of sight, your stomach twists.
Sunghoon.
He’s across the room, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand, his dark eyes fixed on you. He’s not being obvious, but it’s clear enough for Jaeyun to notice, and that’s all it takes.
An uncomfy tension crackles in the air
It’s been over a year since that night - since Sunghoon made it clear he wanted you, since Jaeyun made it clear he wasn’t going to lose you. And while Sunghoon has been nothing but respectful since then, keeping his distance, Jaeyun never truly let it go. He never stopped seeing him as a threat. And now, even after all this time, Sunghoon’s gaze lingers too long, his expression unreadable.
Jaeyun’s tipsy instincts take over as his hand slides lower on your sides, the tips of his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt.
“Jaeyun,” you warn, voice barely audible over the music. You know where this is going.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, his fingers slip up the material covering the one place Sunghoon wants. That makes his blood boil. He bypasses your underwear with ease. The first brush of his fingertips against your clit has your breath catching in your throat.
“Jaeyun, there are too many people. Let’s just go some-” Your words die as he presses down, a slow, torturous circle. He doesn’t want to go somewhere private, he wants the dark haired boy across the room to see the way you crumble under your boyfriend’s touch.
Your body betrays you, melting against him as heat blooms low in your belly. The music fades into nothing, the chatter of the party a distant hum. It’s just his touch, his breath against your skin, the steady drag of his fingers as they dip lower to your entrance.
“I’m serious, Yunnie,” you manage to whisper, though it’s weak, barely a plea. “There are bedroom’s upstairs-”
He cuts you off again with a sharp press of his thumb, and your words dissolve into a soft, choked whimper. He knew exactly how to get you to see his way, and drunk you is a little less anxious about getting caught because this would not be happening if you weren’t six shots and three double vodka cranberries down.
Jaeyun smirks against your skin, his lips brushing over the mark he left on your neck earlier, tracing it lazily with his tongue. That fire you felt before leaving suddenly rises back to the hickey as it begs to be nipped and soothed.
And he is giving it to you. His tongue over exaggeratedly flicks over the mark as he rolls his eyes back, thumb rubbing a bit more roughly on your clit. He isn’t touching you for your pleasure alone. He’s making a point. A very, very public one.
His eyes stay locked on Sunghoon’s bewildered ones.
You don’t know that this isn’t the first time Jaeyun has asserted his dominance over the tall, slim boy. He usually does it subtly; a hot kiss, playing with your hair, or even pulling you into his side as you roam the hallways. Some instances were simply because he wanted too, others were because Sunghoon’s beady eyes were trailing on your figure.
But now he’s stamping the statement into Sunghoon’s mind forever. You are his and no one elses.
Your knees nearly buckle when he pushes two fingers inside you, curling just right, hitting that spot that has you gripping onto his arms for support, nails digging into his veins as you gasp.
He chuckles lowly, his mouth grazing your ear. “You want me to stop, baby?” His tone is mocking, knowing full well you can’t answer, and even if you did, your answer would definitely not be yes. Not when his fingers are moving faster, his thumb rubbing you raw.
You toss your head back against his shoulder, mouth falling open in a silent moan. Jaeyun buries his face in your neck, whispering sweet nothings into your heated skin. You barely process anything beyond the rush of pleasure building, the coil tightening, your body completely at his mercy.
“Good girl,” he breathes, voice thick with satisfaction.
You shouldn’t be doing this. Not here. Not with the entire party swirling around you, bodies just inches away. But no one notices. No one but Sunghoon, whose jaw is tight, eyes dark with a cocktail mix of envy, disgust, and defeat.
And Jaeyun sees it, eliciting a smirk smothered with satisfaction.
“Cum for me, princess,” he murmurs, fingers relentless as he works you over the edge. “Show them it’s me that makes you feel this good.”
His wrist flicks as he sets a steady rhythm that will have you leaking over his digits in a matter of seconds. The tip of his fingers massage your sweet spot, coaxing every atom in your body to let go, to give him everything.
And just like that. the coil snaps.
Your orgasm crashes over you, and it takes everything in you not to moan like a desperate little thing in the middle of the party and alert everyone to you and your boyfriend’s exhibitionism. Your nails dig into Jaeyun’s arms harsh enough to leave dents as you ride out your high, body trembling against him as you clamp his hand with your thighs.
Across the room, Sunghoon coughs awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably before turning away, jaw tight, expression unreadable.
Jaeyun, victorious, only chuckles behind your ear, pulling his fingers from you before turning you to face him.
“Good?” he asks, voice still tinged with amusement.
You let out a breathless laugh, still lightheaded from the intensity of it all. “Fantastic.”
His grin widens, something almost predatory glinting in his gaze. The without warning, he brings his hand up and slips his fingers into your mouth. You gasp, but your lips close around them instinctively. He watches you, utterly transfixed, as you lap your tongue over his digits, tasting yourself, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your swollen lips as he pulls his fingers free.
Your heart pounds as you stare into his eyes, love and guilt journey through your heart - both long staying passengers.
The night is still young, the drinks still flowing, and the music still loud.
This party was exactly what you needed.
________
Two days. That’s all the time you have left before you leave everything behind. The weight of it sits heavy in your chest, pressing down with every breath, an ache that refuses to leave you alone. It has all went in too quickly, this past month filled with so many memories that you will never ever forget.
It makes you wonder if you made the right choice by not breaking up with Jaeyun once you found out you wouldn’t be going to Busan.
You try to push your thoughts aside as you doddle about the convenience store for your last shift. It’s a shitty job but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it in some strange, sentimental way. The regulars, your boss, the co-workers you spent mindless hours with. Even the tedious restocking and the beep of the register have become part of a routine you weren’t quite ready to let go of.
You won’t miss the bright blue uniform, though.
The memory of when you first got the job sneaks up on you, unbidden. You can still hear Jaeyun’s excitement, see the way his eyes lit up as if you’d just been appointed CEO of a million pound company. “My beautiful, hardworking girl. I can’t even begin to describe the pride in my heart,” he had gushed, lifting you up effortlessly, spinning you around in his arms before preppering kisses all over your face. That grin of his, so wide and earnest, the sheer adoration in his gaze - it still floods your senses now, making your stomach turn in happiness and grievance. He had even suggested celebratory sex, because of course he would. Any excuse to have you bouncing on his cock.
The thought is cut short when a pair of familiar arms snake around your waist, strong and certain, pulling you back against a firm chest. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. The warmth of his body, the way he fits against you so perfectly - it’s a feeling you know too well.
“Hey, Y/N,” Jaeyun murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck as he places featherlight kisses along the skin. His scent washes over you - citrus with a woody undertone, grounding and intoxicating. You sink into him for just a second before forcing yourself to stand firm. You can’t get lost in him now. Not with just over 48-hours left.
“Miss me?” he teases, his breath warm against your ear.
You sigh, but there’s no real exasperation in it, a playful annoyance almost. “Jaeyun, I’m working.”
Turning in his arms, you meet his gaze, and instantly, regret coils tight in your chest. He looks at you with so much love, so much trust, so much unguarded sincerity that it makes everything you’ve been doing - everything you’ve been hiding - feel like a slow, cruel betrayal.
He doesn’t deserve any of this.
Jaeyun smiles obliviously as he presses a lingering kiss to your lips, then another, and another. Each one is soft and sweet, savouring the simple moment, like he never wants to stop. You can feel his grin against your mouth, the way he breathes you in.
“You get off soon,” he murmurs. “Just bail early.”
His lips trail down your jaw, pressing against the sensitive skin just below your ear. It’s so easy to give in, to let yourself melt into him and forget that you’re meant to be working.
“Baby,” you whine, pouting as you try to focus on stacking the cans on the shelf. “Let me finish.”
Jaeyun’s grip on your waist tightens slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “I can make you finish if you want.”
His voice is low, teasing, sinful. His teeth nip at your earlobe, and you swear you can feel the smirk forming on his lips. Your breath hitches, and Jaeyun chuckles, because he knows. He knows exactly what he does to you. He can hear your heart pounding, can feel the way your body tenses ever so slightly in response to his touch. And in his mind, that’s proof enough that you were made for him.
You shake your head, trying - and failing - to suppress a smile. “I will attend to your every need when my shift is over, but for the next twenty minutes, these cans of butter beans have my full attention.”
He groans dramatically. “Oh…butter beans. I love it when you talk dirty.” He snaps his teeth together, biting the air mischievously.
You swat at his chest playfully, laughter spilling from your lips before you can stop it. You’ll miss this. God, you’ll miss this. Maybe you should just tell him. Maybe you should change your plans. You could find a job in Busan, surely. Stay here, with him.
The thought lingers for a moment, dangerous and tempting, but you push it away, tucking it deep into the back of your mind. If you do that, you’ll be reliant on him, causing unnecessary stress and endangering his future.
Instead, you reach up, wrapping your arms around Jaeyun’s neck, holding him close. “Sim Jaeyun, you are the most infuriating person I have ever met,” you say, shaking your head fondly.
Sunlight filters through the store windows, casting a soft glow on his face. His golden skin practically gleams in the light, his dark eyes glinting with mischief as he beams down at you.
“You love me, though,” he says confidently.
You swallow, your chest tightening. “So much.”
Too much.
Jaeyun grins like a lovesick puppy, dropping a quick kiss to your lips. “Good. Then hurry up and get this shift out of the way so I can have you all to myself.”
With that, he pecks you one last time before pulling away, leaving the store in a hurry. His movements are eager, excited. He has plans.
And you? You have no idea what’s coming.
___
Jaeyun taps his fingers anxiously against the steering wheel as he dials Heeseung’s number. The call connects after two rings.
“Yes, Jake, for the millionth time, everything is set up,” Heeseung sighs, exasperated but amused at his best friends constant calls for reassurance. “I followed your strict, to-the-point plan exactly as instructed.”
Jaeyun exhales, running a hand through his hair, a bit of relief swirling in his chest despite the nerves still sitting in his stomach. “Thanks, mate. I owe you one. And the r-”
“In the glove compartment. I told you, everything is sorted.”
Jaeyun checks quickly, flipping the compartment open. There it is - a small, neatly wrapped white box, tied with a pink satin ribbon, the edges dusted in silver glitter. He stares at it for a long moment, fear creeping in despite himself.
“She’s gonna love it,” Heeseung reassures him. “You know she loves anything if it has to do with you.”
Jaeyun’s throat tightens slightly, but he smiles. If there was one person who believes in this relationship almost as much as he does, it’s Heeseung. He has been here through everything - every late-night phone call where Jaeyun rambled about how perfect you were, every moment of insecurity, every little update about your favourite songs or perfumes. Jaeyun is obsessed, and Heeseung has certainly suffered the consequences of it.
“Jake, stop overthinking it,” Heeseung laughs. “You guys are meant to be. If this doesn’t work out, then I don’t believe in love.” His best friend isn’t lying either, he has never seen a couple so destined to be with one another, not even his parents who are sickeningly in love.
High school sweethearts come together and fall apart as they grow into new people, the pieces that used to meld with one another growing and shrinking too much to fit together anymore. But you and Jaeyun? Anyone can see - especially Heeseung - that your relationship is not a puzzle but the tree the cardboard is made from, each just developing branches to fill out your love rather than break it. In the winter nights when the leaves fall and darkness looms, you grow ringlets in the trunk of your love, never snapping under the wind.
That’s exactly how Heeseung sees you both. Destined. Molded. Forever.
Jaeyun chuckles, shaking his head. He doesn’t even entertain the possibility of not being with you. Of course, you’re meant to be. That’s not a question. It’s a fact.
A glimpse of you walking out of the store catches his attention. “Shit, she’s coming. Thanks again, mate.”
He shoves the box into the side pocket of the car door just as you open the passenger side, sliding in. You’ve changed into a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but to Jaeyun, you might as well be wearing a Vivienne Westwood dress with the way you look like the most beautiful person on earth.
“Hey,” he greets softly, his voice airy.
“I wish you would’ve told me we were doing something. I would’ve brought nicer clothes to change into,” you pout, suddenly feeling stifled in the simple mum jeans despite their comfort.
Jaeyun scoffs playfully, his eyes flicking toward you as he starts the car. “You say that like Aphrodite herself doesn’t worship the ground you walk on, even in jeans.”
Your stomach flips. He always had a way with words, a gift for making you feel like the most breathtaking thing to ever grace the earth - and to him you are. Beautiful and gorgeous were never enough for him - those words are too ordinary, too overused. Jaeyun needs something grander, something worthy of you. Even when words fail him, he still tries, determined to make you feel as exquisite as he saw you.
Still, you can only roll your eyes, cheeks warm in a rose blush as you buckle your seatbelt. He busies himself with the music, fingers expertly flicking through cassette tapes in the centre console. His car - an ancient black 1998 Honda Civic he bought for pennies from a distant uncle - came equipped with a cassette player instead of an aux, something Jaeyun delighted in.
It gave him the perfect excuse to make mixtapes, just like in those early 2000s films. He even made one for your Christmas road trip, packed with songs that reminded him of you. Most of them were love songs, but one track - Hotel Room Service by Pitbull to be exact — had snuck in by accident, and he’d never figured out how to remove it. It became your song after that, something that made you both dissolve into laughter whenever it played yet still held sentimental value.
“I think I’ve created the best mixtape of all time,” Jaeyun boasts, wagging a cassette between his fingers before sliding it in. “You’re gonna love it.”
The first song hums through the speakers, the familiar melody of Love is All Around by Wetter filling the car.
Your heart clenches with joy. “My favourite song.”
Jaeyun’s lips curl into a triumphant smile as his hand finds yours, bringing it to his mouth for a soft kiss. “It’s slowly becoming my favourite, too.” His eyes linger on you, and the warmth in them nearly undoes you. “You know, they’re playing a show in Busan this autumn. If you want, I’ll grab us tickets since we’ll be up there anyway.”
Your breath catches. The sickness rising from your stomach, a tight, suffocating thing that robs the colour from your face. He’s already planning for the future, your supposed future where you live happily ever after.
Tell him. Just tell him.
“Jaeyun, I-”
“I’ll get them next payday,” he cuts in easily, like it’s already decided. “They’ve had tickets available for ages, so I don’t think they’ll sell out in the next couple of weeks.” He squeezes your hand, focused on the road, thumb tracing soft circles into your skin.
You swallow the lump in your throat, force a smile, and thank him. Then, you turn to the window, staring out as the world blurs past. You mentally curse yourself, hating yourself for giving him another nugget of hope. All these tiny threads of future that he’s weaving into your lives are about to be cut loose, and that will only make it harder for him.
Jaeyun isn’t dumb though, he notices the shift in you - the way you clam up, the way your fingers twitch slightly in his grasp - but he doesn’t say anything. Not yet. He knows you well enough to wait.
The drive takes exactly thirty-two minutes, and for thirty-one of them, Jaeyun holds your hand, squeezing it intermittently. The other minute, he spends drinking water to ease the dryness in his throat, a nervous habit when he’s overthinking. He’s been rehearsing everything in his head, making sure every detail is perfect. You deserve perfection.
When the car finally rolls to a stop, he turns to you, smiling. “We’re here, princess.”
Lost in your mind, you unbuckle your seatbelt, not registering exactly where you are. As he steps out of the car, he swiftly rushes around and opens your door for you. One hand gestures grandly toward the grassy hill before you, the other extended to help you out.
“Right this way.”
You side-eye him as you step out, wary of the incline. “Making me walk after a six-hour shift should be illegal, you know that?”
Jaeyun beams, like he was waiting for you to say that, always predicting your next move. Although, there seems to be one he is oblivious too. “Ah, see, I knew you’d complain about that.” He turns his back to you, kneeling slightly. “That’s why I’m going to carry you.”
Your eyes widen. “You cannot be serious.”
He twists his head to look at you, scandalised. “Does my girlfriend not have faith in her very strong, very capable boyfriend?” He raises a brow, scoffing when he sees the doubt written all over your face. “Trust me. Get on and have some faith in your man, please.”
A genuine laugh escapes you as you see him puff out his chest. He’s impossible sometimes, but still, you oblige, climbing onto his back and wrapping your arms around his shoulders as his hands secure your thighs. He hoists you up with surprising ease, and you gape at him. “Have you been working out, be honest this time?”
Jaeyun grins, flexing one arm dramatically as he starts walking. “Babygirl, I’ve been packing these guns since birth. John Cena is jealous.”
You rest your chin on his shoulder, giggling. “Oh yeah? That so?”
“Mmhm. He looks up reference pictures of me when he’s trying to achieve his goals. A bit of motivation for him.” He presses a quick kiss to your cheek as you giggle at his ridiculous notion. “Now, hold on tight. We’re heading to the top.”
“To the top!” you echo, laughing, as he takes the first step up the hill.
Surprisingly, Jaeyun reaches the top without stopping once, and although his breathing is heavier, his grip on you is unwavering. When he finally sets you down, his arms tense, veins pronounced from the strain of holding you up. They stand out boldly beneath his skin, and you can’t help but stare. God, they’re perfect.
It’s the one thing you’ve never been able to get over about your boyfriend. Those forearms have haunted one too many wet dreams of yours - and he knows it.
At school, he’d make a habit of rolling up his sleeves when you shared a class, his smirk barely concealed as he caught you ogling him. He took pride in it, in the way you practically drooled. Before coming over to yours one night, he’d even spent time flexing, clenching and unclenching his fists to make sure his veins were as defined as possible. His efforts had paid off - the night had ended with you riding his fingers, nails digging into his forearms, desperate to feel them beneath your touch.
“Baby?” Jaeyun’s voice pulls you back to the present. He’s bent forward slightly, head tilted as he waves a hand in front of your face, his grin lopsided. “You in there?”
Blinking, you shake off the haze of memory. “Hmm?”
“I said - ta-da!”
He hops on the balls of his feet, throwing his arms out as if presenting the grand finale of a magic trick, sort of like the Will Smith meme but less ridgid, more comical despite his obvious nerves.
Your gaze follows the sweep of his hands, and suddenly, your breath catches in your throat, pulse thumping as you get overwhelmed with the sight.
A pair of trees stands before you, their trunks wrapped - no, tangled - in strings of fairy lights, their golden glow casting a soft halo over the picnic laid out beneath them. A bouquet of flowers sits in the centre, spare petals scattered across the blanket like fallen stars. Two woven baskets accompany the arrangement, lids slightly ajar, revealing glimpses of the feast inside. A trail of rose petals leads up to the setup, their deep red hues stark against the grass.
For a moment, you can’t speak. How can you when you’re facing one of the most romantic settings you have ever witnessed.
Jaeyun shifts his weight, rubbing the back of his neck, his usual confidence wavering at your silence. “I know it’s cheesy and cliché,” he says with an axnious chuckle, “but I remember you reading about this in one of your books and saying you loved the idea of a midnight picnic.” He exhales through his nose, sheepish. “I know it’s not midnight, but-”
You don’t let him finish. Instead, your lips press against his, cutting off his rambling explanation, hoping that even a slither of your gratitude can be passed through the movement of your lips. Jaeyun exhales into the kiss, tension melting from his shoulders as his hands settle on your side. His relief is palpable. You like it. That’s all that matters.
When you finally pull away, he’s grinning, fingers lacing through yours. “Come on,” he murmurs, guiding you forward.
The rose petals crunch softly beneath your feet, but you barely notice. Your eyes remain fixed on him - on the way his dark hair falls slightly over his forehead, shorter than when you first met; on the way his side-parted bangs frame his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw. He’s grown into himself over the years, but he’s still your Jaeyun. Still the boy who whispers puppy love nothings in your ear any chance he gets. Still the boy who looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky.
He’s yours.
At least for now.
“I got you all your favourites,” Jaeyun continues, oblivious to the turmoil brewing in your chest. “Kimchi pancakes, tteokbokki, some chicken and spinach samosas-”
His voice fades into the background. Your heart is so full - but a filled heart means there is more to break. And yours is just about being demolished.
“I love you, Jaeyun.” The words escape before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered. It’s the only thing you can say at the moment, scared that if you attempt another word you’ll blubber.
Jaeyun has heard you say it a thousand times before, but something about this time feels different. The weight behind it is heavier, more deliberate. So beautifully raw but…sad.
His body stills for half a second before his hands slide to your hips, grounding you in place. His gaze flickers over your face, searching, but he doesn’t question it. Instead, he lets out a soft breath, voice steady.
“I love you too, Y/N. So fucking much.”
His heart swells, so big he thinks it might rupture.
It’s incredible how two people can have a heart so full yet while his structure is solid, determined, yours is being chipped away at with each passing second of the ticking clock. This will end soon, and you can’t tell who will have a harder time building back the pieces.
The kiss he gives you next has tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. It’s slow but filled with a confession of its own. He kisses you like he’s memorising the way you taste, like he’s trying to etch this moment into his bones. It’s amatory yet pure, a love so deep it defies any logical explanation. It’s not something that can be theorised or dissected.
It’s yours. It’s his.
And in two days, you’re giving it up.
Jaeyun pulls you down onto the blanket, settling beside you as he begins unpacking the baskets. The scent of the food fills the air, and your stomach rumbles in response. Everything looks perfect.
Jaeyun watches the way your eyes light up at the sight of the spread, and he makes a mental note to thank Jay when he sees him next. “Here, take a bite, baby girl.” He lifts a piece of tteokbokki with his chopsticks, holding it out for you.
You oblige, opening wide and letting the flavours burst on your tongue.
And that’s when you know he didn’t make this.
Jaeyun can barely cook a frozen lasagne without setting off the fire alarm, let alone pull off a meal like this.
Suddenly, laughter bubbles up from your chest, causing Jaeyun to cock his head in wonder. “What’s so funny?”
You wave a hand dismissively, memories flashing through your mind - It had been your 100-day anniversary, and he’d wanted to cook for you. It ended with Jaeyun, flailing a green and yellow dish towel under the fire alarm, a burnt pizza in the oven, and his dad standing nearby, arms crossed, delivering a very long-winded lecture on the importance of life skills.
“It’s nothing,” you say, grinning. “I’m just happy.”
Jaeyun beams at that, your happiness of the upmost importance to him.
The rest of the evening unfolds in golden hues and easy laughter. The fairy lights flicker softly, casting a glow over everything, making the moment feel almost unreal. You pretend, just for a little while, that nothing is wrong. That there’s no expiration date on this love.
But while you’re pushing down your anxiety, Jaeyun’s is flared with each moment ticking by. He has been waiting for this moment for a long time.
As the last remnants of food disappear, his heartbeat grows louder, pounding against his ribs. He grips the edge of the blanket, trying to steady himself.
“Um, Y/N?” His voice is hesitant, uncertain. You immediately set down your plate, your full attention on him as you begin to notice the tiny shake in his hands.
“Yeah?”
Sweat beads along his forehead. He swallows thickly, his fingers flexing against the fabric beneath him.
Your stomach knots instantly at his apprehensive stature. Does he know? Is he about to tell you that he’s known your plan all along? That he’s doing all of this to convince you to stay? Is he giving up everything for you?
Or…is it simply too warm this evening?
“Hoo, okay, so-” Jaeyun exhales sharply, shifting his entire body to face you. His hands tremble as they clasp yours; they’re smaller, delicate in comparison, yet still manage to steady him in a way nothing else can. “I love you so much,” he begins, then falters, sucking in a breath. “And, uh, okay, um-”
He had rehearsed this moment a hundred times. Sat on Heeseung’s bedroom floor, the elder pretending to be you - going as far as threatening to put on a wig and eyeliner for authenticity and immersion.Heeseung takes his roles very seriously.
“I need to get into character!” Heeseung had proclaimed dramatically, sending Jaeyun into a fit of laughter, the boys barely making it through one runthrough.
Now, though, standing before you, his mind is blank. The words he’d carefully strung together dissolve the second he looks at you - obviously this was much easier with Heeseung and a bad lipstick job.
No you are much more intimidating. The golden hour sun kisses your skin, turning you ethereal, unreal. He has no choice but to take another deep breath, shaking off the nerves, or attempting to at least..
“I love you,” he tries again, steadier this time. “I have ever since that first day at school.” His gaze drops to the sun necklace resting between you collarbones - the one he bought you for your birthday - before flicking back to your eyes. “You took the breath from my lungs, and honestly? Every time I look at you, I still forget how to breathe.”
A wry smile tugs at his lips as he continues.
“I don’t know if soulmates are real, or twin flames, or matches made in heaven…but, baby, you’re all of them to me, I know it. I curse the stars every night because people admire them for being beautiful, when you are the brightest thing in the universe. You’re my sun, my moon, all my stars.”
He inhales shakily, as if steadying himself, his hands running so cold that he feels pins and needles starting to tingle the tips of his fingers.
“You deserve all the admiration they get. And if I can spend the rest of my life looking at you, studying you, loving you like some devoted astronomer - then I’ll know I’ve lived my life well.”
A beat. Two hearts, thundering against ribcages. The love between you, palpable, enough to heal nations - enough to ruin you.
Jaeyun reaches into his pocket, retrieving a small box. His fingers shake violently as he hands it to you. “I want you to know,” he murmurs, voice nearly cracking with emotion, “I’m so serious about us, Y/N.”
The weight of the box settles into your palm, and suddenly it feels like the entire world is sitting there, waiting to be opened. His words mixed with the unexpected gift saw at your heart, guilt overwhelming your bloodstream.
“Open it,” he huffs, exhaling like he’s spent months holding his breath.
You peel away the soft pink ribbon, lifting the lid to reveal two delicate silver rings rest side by side. Small, simple bands with a single heart at the centre - nothing extravagant, yet everything that matters. Beside them, two identical silver keys.
Jaeyun shifts, scooting closer, his fingers brushing against yours as he lifts one of the rings.
“Before you freak out—I’m not proposing,” he chuckles weakly, though his laugh barely makes it past his lips. His thumb smooths over the band as he stares at it, his mind lost somewhere between the past and the future.
“This is my promise to you,” he continues, voice quieter now. “That from now until forever, I am yours.”
He lifts your left hand, taking your pinky between his fingers before slowly, deliberately, sliding the ring on. “A pinky ring,” he murmurs gently, “until I can get you a real wedding ring.”
The tears welling in your eyes spill over, laughter bubbling from your lips despite yourself. You recognise the lyrics embedded in his words, his love language tucked between the sentiment. The ring fits perfectly. Of course, it does.
You don’t even have to ask to know - he saved up for these. Every penny from his part-time job, every late-night shift worked with you in mind. They are not designer rings. They are not diamond-encrusted. But they are everything. Because they are his. Because they are yours. And his devotion to you is priceless.
Jaeyun hesitates for a moment before picking up one of the keys, rolling it between his fingers. “This,” he says, his voice a tiny bit more confident now that you’re wearing the ring, “is the key to our flat in Busan.”
Your breath stutters.
“I know we should be living in dorms,” he continues, his eyes flickering between the key and your face, gauging your reaction. “But I struck a really good deal with the landlady—she’s sweet, she likes me. And I just-” His voice dips as the truth sits on the edge of his tongue, being pushed forward by raw emotion. “I don’t think I could go a day in this life without seeing you. And if we live together, I won’t have to.”
He places the key in your open palm, his own curling over yours, holding it there with promise.
The tears streaking down your cheeks, once born of joy, are suddenly unbearable with sorrow.
He doesn’t know you’re leaving.
You have told yourself it’s for the best. That leaving now, cutting ties cleanly, would hurt less than watching him drift away piece by piece. That letting him go would save you both.
But staring at the key, at the boy in front of you…your resolve crumbles and your heart splinters.
Jaeyun shifts, sensing your hesitation. Panic flickers in his eyes. “Baby, if this is too fast, we can-”
You don’t let him finish.
Your lips crash against his, swallowing whatever reassurance he was about to offer. You don’t know what to do. You feel remorseful and devastated but his hopeful smile and readily beating heart are calling out to you to just melt into the moment. Even if it’s selfish, even if it’s cruel to lead him on like this, your heart yearns for him.
His breath stutters, but he melts into you instantly, fingers threading through your hair, each strand wrapping around his fingers like an anchoring rope. Your hands slide over his shoulders, gripping, grounding. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, familiar and safe.
Jaeyun doesn’t need words. This - your touch, your kiss, your hands clutching him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this world - this is enough to know you feel the same way he does.
But while his heart and mind are at ease, his body needs more.
Jaeyun scoops you up in one swift motion, carrying you down the hill and to his car, leaving the evidence of your love behind in the branches. He wonder if Heeseung’s help extends to a clean-up job.
“I need to make love to you so bad,” he grumbles, his voice thick with longing as his lips smooch at yours messily. “But not in this car.”
____
The drive to his house is a blur of desperate touches, your fingers trailing over his wrist, his palm resting on your thigh. He speeds recklessly, tunnel-visioned, the pinky ring on your hand glinting in the dim light.
You are his. He is yours.
By the time he parks, Jaeyun is already reaching for you, his hands making way to your hips as he all but pushes you up the stairs. The second the bedroom door shuts behind you, he’s pressing you against it, his lips urgent, messy, needing.
“Princess,” he groans when your hand presses against his growing arousal. “You’re dangerous.”
You laugh - genuinely, fully. The last real laugh you’ll have for a long time.
Jaeyun doesn’t notice. He’s too focused on yanking his T-shirt over his head, the fabric slipping off in a single, fluid motion. His bare chest is in front of you now, the fading hickeys from last week still scattered over his skin.
He doesn’t waste another second.
Bending slightly, he grips your thighs, lifting you with ease. His lips find your jaw, your cheeks, your temple - whispering against your skin in a voice filled with reverence. “So beautiful. All mine.”
Your heart aches. You wish you could tell him. But instead, you let him love you for one of the last times.
Jaeyun groans against your skin, his breath warm as he presses you onto the bed, his chest never leaving yours. His hands explore your body with deliberate intent, fingertips mapping out every inch of your exposed skin as though memorising it. A soft hum vibrates through him, an unspoken appreciation of the heat radiating from your body.
“I know, Princess,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting along your jaw, his voice thick with amusement. “But you’re gonna be a good girl and wait for me, yeah?” The smirk laced in his words only makes you ache more.
You whimper, desperation evident in the way your body arches toward him, and he chuckles, his voice husky with satisfaction. With deft hands, he unbuttons your jeans, dragging both them and your underwear down in one fluid motion, leaving you bare beneath him.
His dark eyes devour the sight of you, hunger etched all over his features as his fingers trace feather-light patterns over your skin. “All mine,” he whispers, the words more reverent than possessive, a quiet declaration of something deeper than lust. His lips follow the path of his fingertips, pressing slow, lingering kisses up your inner thigh, his pace torturously unhurried. He thinks he has all the time in the world.
You’re drenched, your body trembling with need. He exhales sharply with an undercurrent of amusement peaking through. His fingers ghost over your slick folds, spreading them open for a better look. “So wet, baby. I don’t even think you need me to prep you.” The teasing lilt in his voice makes you whimper, and the featherlight press of his lips against your clit sends a jolt through your body.
“No, Yunie, please.” The nickname slips from your lips in your desperation, your voice breathless, utterly undone. You love his cock and the need to get fucked is actually unbearable, but honestly, you love how he plays with you. His laughter is warm against your skin, the vibration making your toes curl. He’s so close but so out of reach that it’s almost painful.
His hand tightens on your thigh, spreading you wider for him as he trails deliberate kisses across your core. The heat of his tongue dragging over you makes your breath stutter, and your hands fly to his hair, fingers weaving through the soft strands, tugging, pulling him closer. He groans at the sensation, the sound sending a fresh pulse of arousal through you.
“Tell me what you need, Y/N,” he coaxes, his voice low, husky, vibrating against you as his tongue continues its agonisingly slow exploration, like a tourist with weeks left of their holiday.
“F-fingers,” you gasp, shame abandoned in favour of pure desire. “I want your fingers.”
He hums in mock contemplation, dragging the pads of his fingers along your entrance. “These fingers?” The playful edge to his voice is maddening but before you can protest, he pushes two fingers inside you, slow but insistent. Your mouth falls open, head tilting back as pleasure washes over you. He watches you intently, his gaze dark and fixed on the way your body reacts to him.
Watching you wriggle and writhe gets him hard, his cock swelling with lust and pride. You’re so responsive to his touches that it’s addicting, it makes him want to just play with your pretty pussy forever. And honestly? If his cock wasn’t so greedy, he would.
As his fingers curl, finding that perfect spot, a shudder wracks through you. You grip his sheets as you arch, simultaneously trying to escape while seeking more. Your body erupts with excitement as it feels Jaeyun’s lips back on your cunt, making out with it gently, working in tandem with his fingers to coax an orgasm from you.
“You taste amazing, baby,” he compliments sincerely, lapping you up like a thirsty pup. “So fucking sweet.”
You’ve never believed him when he says that, but the way he groans into your pussy and slurps at you like you’re the last remnants of a Capri Sun, you’re inclined to believe him. You boyfriend worships you, adores everything about you and that includes your pretty slick.
Jaeyun’s biggest fear is drowning but if he was to be sucked under into an ocean of your essence, he will happily let his lungs fill with liquid.
Groaning, Jaeyun huffs into your pussy, his fingers curling as if he’s calling you forward - or rather, you orgasm. The tip of his fingers scrape along the soft part of your walls and you squeal out, trying to run away, the sensation too much to handle.
“Shhh, baby,” he soothes, kissing softly to your clit, a tender gesture compared to the grip one of his hands has on you to keep you in place. “Was it too much?”
He peers up at you through his lashes and sees you nodding desperately, chest heaving and eyes rolling in a daze. He has you exactly where he wants you; on the brink. He just needs to push your buttons once more to get you soaking his features with your juices.
Picking up his pace, he laughs into your folds as he jackhammers it home and you thighs instantly clamp him into place. He’s in heaven. This is what being a saint gets people - not an eternity in paradise but the opportunity to suffocate between their lover’s legs.
“Gonna cum for me already, Princess? So soon?” His muffled voice drips with satisfaction, but he doesn’t relent. He adds another finger, stretching you in the most delicious way, his tongue flicking against your clit in perfect synchronisation with his thrusts.
Your walls tighten, your body teetering on the precipice. “Let go, angel,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. That’s all it takes - his fingers thrusting, his tongue teasing, the sheer dominance in his voice. Your orgasm crashes over you, a broken cry of his name spilling from your lips as pleasure floods through you.
He doesn’t stop until your body begins to tremble with overstimulation, his movements slowing, easing you through the aftershocks. You’re lost in the labyrinth of euphoria and you need him to help you out, to guide you back to reality as he gently pulls out his fingers. His mouth still showers your core with gentle kisses, though.
He’s not so cruel to rip everything away from you just yet.
After a few moments of panting and gasping for oxygen, you push yourself up on your elbows, eyes locking onto him. His lips glisten with you, his expression dark and unreadable, pride evident in the way he studies you. The image sears itself into your memory, something to cling to when he’s not by your side.
“You’re so fucking hot when you cum like that,” he murmurs, kissing his way up your body, each press of his lips softer than the last. “Like I’m the only one who can do that to you.”
You let out a breathy laugh, fingers threading through his hair, pushing the damp strands from his face. “Jaeyun, you are the only one I’ve ever had sex with so yes, you are the only one who can do that to me.”
He chuckles, his forehead pressing to your stomach, but his next words make your heart clench. “And I’ll always be the only one. You’re mine forever, Y/N.”
The heaviness of his words sits uncomfortably on your chest. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what’s coming.
Before he can notice the shift in your expression, you push it down, forcing a sultry smirk. “Then fuck me. Show me exactly what you can do.”
His pupils darken and expand, melting into unrestrained desire. He reaches for the drawer, retrieving an ultra-thin condom, slipping it on with impatient ease. He won’t lie, he’s desperate to be engulfed by you, so in a flash, the head of his cock drags along your folds before pressing against your entrance, teasing. A sharp gasp escapes your lips at the sensation, need pooling low in your stomach.
“Say please, and I’ll think about it,” he taunts you, his voice smug, but you know he’s just as needy - if not more.
“Please,” you whisper, “Please fuck me, Jaeyun.” The plea is barely past your lips before he captures them in a searing kiss, pushing into you with a deep, slow stroke, his hips rolling beautifully flush against you.
A ragged breath leaves him as he bottoms out, your walls squeezing around him in a way that makes his jaw slacken and eyes scrunch shut. His pace is slow at first, allowing you to adjust to him for at least a few minutes before restraint gives way to need. His thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, and his left hand finds yours, fingers intertwining, a silent tether that brings you even closer together.
His lips brush against your pinky, a soft kiss against the silver ring he gave you, a promise to always be yours embedded in the gesture. And before you know it, it’s all too much and you begin to cry feel the tears before you realise you’re crying.
All your emotions come out at once due to his sweet actions because suddenly it’s too hard to bottle everything up. The love, the fear, the disappointment, the guilt, the anguish. It’s all flooding from your eyes as your heart bursts with ache.
Jaeyun notices how your chest begins to vibrate, and not in the gasping for air because he’s fucking you so good kind of way. No. It’s shaking through sobs and he immediately pauses his ministrations.
“Hey,” he kisses your tears, his voice laced with concern. “Princess, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat as you try and rid yourself of the abundance of emotion. “No, baby,” your voice wobbles, raw and filled with everything you can’t say. “I just love you so much, that’s all.”
Jaeyun has his doubts for a second, your eyes glinting in sadness - it’s so fast he almost doesn’t catch it. But concern is washed away as you lean up to kiss him, soft and gentle. The love in your lips conveying enough to put his mind at ease.
Drawing back and brushing the tears from your cheeks, Jaeyun smiles down at you. “You had me worried, sweetheart.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I love you too. Till my last dying breath, okay?”
Your heart twists painfully, but his slow thrusts pull you back to the moment, grounding you in the way he moves, in the way he makes you feel.
And right now, that’s all that matters.
He groans against your ear, his pace growing rougher, more desperate now that he knows your okay. The heat between you is overwhelming, bodies moving in sync, chasing that inevitable bliss. His hand slips between you, fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing tight, pressuered circles.
“You’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you?” His voice is thick, strained with pleasure. “I can feel it. Let me have it, baby.”
The pressure builds, overwhelming, the pleasure winding so tightly it feels like you might snap apart. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, his thrusts driving deeper, hitting all the right places. And then it happens again - the coil within you shatters, pleasure crashing over you in waves, your entire body trembling beneath him.
He groans loudly as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, your release pulling him over the edge with you. His thrusts turning erratic as his control frays and he follows you into bliss. His body stills, buried deep inside you, his breath coming in ragged pants against you, spilling into the condom.
For a moment, neither of you move, caught in the haze of each other. Then, with a shaky laugh, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips. “Perfect,” he murmurs, still breathless. “You’re perfect.”
You curl into him, letting the warmth of his body envelop you, not one of you bothering to part just yet - enjoying the intimacy of just being connected to one another like this.
If only you could stay like this forever.
________
The morning sun spills through Jaeyun’s window, casting a dawning glow over the room. Your boyfriend’s body is draped over yours, the warmth of his bare skin pressed against you like a safety you know you can no longer allow yourself to have. His breath is slow and steady, the rise and fall of his chest soothing as he sleeps peacefully, a contrast to how you are feeling right now.
The silver ring on his pinky glints in the sunlight, catching your eye like a cruel reminder of what you are about to do. Why the fuck didn’t you tell him last night?
You now have one more day with him - one more chance to hold onto this love - but after last night, you know you can’t risk another second in his presence.
Every inch of you screams that this is a mistake. If you love him this much, surely you can make long distance work. But it’s just not that simple. You’ve already made your choice, and now you have to live with it.
Jaeyun will be fine. Busan is full of beautiful girls - girls who are interesting, spectacular, and everything he will need in a partner. He won’t need you anymore. He will find someone else, someone who won’t run.
Deep down, you know this will hurt him, but he’s strong. He’ll get over it.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slip out from under his arm as gently as possible, heart clenching in panic when he stirs - luckily for you doesn’t wake up. You keep your movements careful, as if the universe might give you more time if you just move slowly enough. Every glance at him - his tousled hair, his puffy lips that you love to kiss so much parted slightly in sleep - makes it harder to breathe.
You are so stupid for this. Leaving him because you are terrified of losing him later on. It’s ridiculous and you’re being selfish.
I can’t do long distance. His voice echoes in your brain, pushing down your apprehensions regarding your next decision.
Your fingers tremble as you slide the ring off your pinky. Despite only having it for a few hours, it feels wrong that it’s gone. You hesitate, just for a second, before placing it on his dresser. The thought of leaving a note crosses your mind, but as Jaeyun shifts in his sleep, you realise there’s no time. You need to go before you lose your last bit of resolve.
Placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, you hold back tears. He looks so innocent and unaware…you can’t imagine what he’ll be like once he wakes up. You can’t be here for that.
So you get dressed quickly, shuffling down his stairs and out the front door. You’re met with the sharp bite of the morning air. The sun is dulling and the wind carries an unforgiving chill that cuts through you. You already know it’s going to pour later. As if the universe is mourning your decision before you can.
Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, hands still shaking, scared that he’s noticed already. But surprisingly, it’s from Avanti.
Mail: From: Avanti College RE: Housing Enquiry.
Dear Y/N L/N,
I am responding to your inquiry regarding accommodation. The room is available as of today, however, there is no concierge available to give you your keys as there has been a slight altercation in housing arrangements. Your assigned roommate has been made aware of your occupancy and will let you in once you arrive. Your key should be ready for you next week. Sorry about the miscommunication as I know you are eager to get settled.
Kind Regards,Cho Min WooHead of Accommodation and Living.
You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. It’s done. You have somewhere to go. No turning back now.
You start running. You need to grab your bag, book the bus, and go before your heart betrays you. No hesitation. No overthinking. Just leave.
Thankfully, you had packed days ago, anticipating that you might need to flee at a moment’s notice, feelings overwhelming causing you to overthink and overpack. But you can’t just disappear. If you vanish without a trace, your parents will panic, call the cops or do something drastic. But if you tell them where you’re going, they will for sure tell Jaeyun your whereabouts. The last thing you need is him chasing after you, sacrificing everything to run to you.
Once you’re home, you grab a notepad and scribble a rushed message to your parents. You don’t explain, don’t justify. Just the bare minimum: you need a fresh start in a new city. You need space, everything too overwhelming. It’s not much, but it’s enough for them to know you’ll be safe.
You sign your name with a shaking hand, placing hugs and kisses as if that will ease the blow.
This is it. No more seeing your room. No more home-cooked meals. No more Jaeyun.
You’ve fucked up so badly, but you have to see this through. You made your bed, now it’s time to lie in it.
___
The bus jam packed. You were lucky to get one of the last two seats on the coach bound for Pyeongchang. The hum of conversation surrounds you but you don’t earwig on any of it. Your hands won’t stop shaking as you stare at your phone, scrolling through the endless missed calls and messages.
Incoming Call: my love <3
You watch it ring until it stops. Then you scroll through the notifications.
Missed Call (67) my love <3Missed Call (34) dadMissed Call (23) mum
Your chest tightens as you finally open Jaeyun’s messages.
07:30am princess, where are you? 07:30am are you coming back to bed? xx 07:49am Y/N, i’m getting worried. 07:52am pick up your phone, baby. please talk to me. 07:52am if i pushed you too far yesterday, i’m sorry… 08:16am why are your parents saying you’ve left? 08:16am baby, don’t do this. 08:17 m what does your letter mean? ‘I need a fresh start from everyone and everything’?? 08:17am you aren’t leaving, right? you’re not leaving me, are you? 08:23am please, please, please.
The messages go on and on, each one more desperate than the last. Your vision blurs with tears as you scroll down. The latest ones, sent only minutes ago, send a shiver down your spine.
10:32 am i ill search every part of this country until i find you.10:32 am you can’t expect me to just forget about you.
10:35 am: will you please answer your fucking phone!10:47 am Y/N…i can’t make you answer me, or love me, but please just know i love you and i’m sorry for whatever i did. i’m leaving for Busan in two weeks so you should come home then. you won’t hear from me again but don’t leave your parents like this, baby. they can’t lose you.10:48 am I can’t lose you either to be honest but if it’s what you want…I’ll go.
Another message appears just as the tears spill over onto your cheeks.
10:51 am i love you so fucking much, Y/N. i won’t ever stop. my heart is yours, always. until the sun stops burning.
A sob rips from your throat, loud and raw. The sound fills the bus, drawing the attention of every passenger. You slap a hand over your mouth, bowing in silent apology as the embarrassment burns hot in your chest. Then, without another thought, you block his number.
You will get a new phone when you reach Pyeongchang. A fresh start. No more attachments. No more looking back.
But as the bus pulls away from the station, leaving your past behind, you press your forehead against the window and let the tears fall.
Jaeyun will be fine.
Eventually, he will be fine.
You just have to keep telling yourself that.
_______
Jaeyun’s heart has not stopped breaking since you’ve left, the pieces crumbling in a silence so loud it nearly suffocates him. He believed, with every fibre of his being, that the future you painted together was real - that your love is something solid, something unbreakable. To learn that you have already planned a life without him, that you are gone without a word, tears through him like a blade.
It fucking hurts - not just in his chest, but deep, right down to his bones. He can’t find the strength to confront it, can’t make sense of what’s happening.
Had he misunderstood? Had he pushed you into a life you didn’t want? Had his love, his promises, meant nothing to you? He can’t reconcile the girl he has spent so many nights dreaming of a future with, the girl who smiled at him through late-night talks about forever, with the one who has left him behind without a trace.
When he pulls into the driveway of his home after spending hours searching for you, he sees Heeseung’s car is there, an unwelcome reminder that the world has unfortunately keeps moving while his has shattered. He doesn’t have the energy to face his friend, not now, not when every thought in his head is tangled up in confusion and heartbreak.
He loves Heeseung, of course he does, but right now, he needs to be alone. He needs to think and process, try and make sense of the wreckage of the morning. But he trudges up the stairs regardless, ignoring his parents’ concerned questions, ‘Where have you been?’, ‘Are you okay?’. He doesn’t know anything other than the fact that he has a hole in his chest.
Pushing his bedroom door open, Heeseung’s voice meets him with a bitter cheerfulness - clear he hasn’t noticed the way Jaeyun’s eyes are still swollen from the tears. “Jake, my man! How did it go? You went radio silent last night, so I’m assuming that means things went well,” Heeseung wiggles his brows as he waits for the fairytale update from his best friend.
But that’s the last thing he’ll receive today. The fairytale quickly turned into a Brothers Grimm nightmare.
Jaeyun’s gaze is fixed on the floor, his head hung low to hide the evidence of his heartache - not that it does much good. His throat is tight, his words caught behind a wall of emotion he can’t seem to break through. This makes Heeseung perk to attention, finally seeing the distress.
“Jake?” Heeseung’s voice softens, concern lining it now. “You okay?”
Jaeyun can’t answer, his eyes fixated on the silver ring. The one that belongs to you. The one meant to seal your futures together. It sits on his bedside table taunting and bitter. A new wave of sadness floods him and he tilts his head back in an attempt to stifle the tears, but they come anyway, hot and relentless.
The sight of it is too much and Jaeyun’s remaining composure cracks. The sobs are impossible to control now, and Heeseung, without hesitation, pulls him into a tight embrace, squeezing him tightly. He holds him as if he could absorb some of the hurt, but nothing will ease this ache.
“She…left,” Jaeyun manages to choke out, the words hardly forming in his mouth before the tears take over.
Heeseung freezes, a stunned silence hanging between them. His hands grip Jaeyun’s shoulders, pulling him back to look at him with disbelief. “What do you mean, she left?”
Jaeyun’s voice breaks, his chest heaving with each ragged, uncontrollable sobs. “She left everything. Me, us...her family…she left it all behind.”
The words seem to cut deeper than the pain itself. Heeseung’s face twists in confusion, his jaw tightening. This is not like you. You wouldn’t go anywhere without Jaeyun let alone leave him without even so much as a goodbye. She’s been kidnapped is Heeseung’s first thought but thats ludicrous. This isn’t a Liam Neeson film.
“Let me call her,” he offers, reaching for his phone, though he knows it’s futile.
“No use,” Jaeyun replies, his voice hollow, devoid of any emotion other than pure agony. “She won’t answer. It’s gone straight to voicemail. Not even her mum can reach her.”
With shaky hands, Jaeyun pulls the note you wrote for your parents from his jeans pocket, handing it to Heeseung in silence. As his friend reads it, Jaeyun turns towards the ring on the table, staring at it as though it were a foreign object. His fingers tremble as he picks it up, turning it over and over in his hands. Every promise he made to you - each word, each moment spent dreaming of a shared future - feels like a cruel joke now.
The ring should have been reassurance. Hadn’t it been?
Why would you fucking leave?
Heeseung’s voice breaks through his thoughts, sharp and angry. “What the fuck?” The elder is pacing now, holding the letter like it’s something foul. “What the fuck is she thinking?”
His quetsion is met with a shrug from the heartbroken boy.
“So she didn’t accept the ring and decided to just fuck off?”
Jaeyun shakes his head, the tears flowing freely now, blurring his vision. “She accepted it. Last night was perfect. It was this morning that she left.” He meets Heeseung’s gaze, a tear slipping down his cheek. “What did I do wrong, Hee?”
Nothing. Heeseung knows he did absolutely nothing wrong. He can see the pain in Jaeyun’s eyes, he can feel the weight of his friend’s heartache pressing in on him. It’s suffocating and clinging to every fibre of the room.
With a frustrated sigh, Heeseung pulls Jaeyun into another hug, holding him tighter this time, trying to ground him. Jaeyun has always been the one with the softer heart, and right now, that heart is breaking in a way that even Heeseung can’t fix.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Jake. I don’t get what’s going on in her head, but you didn’t mess up. She’s just-”
But Jaeyun pushes back, his voice low and protective as he cuts his best friend off from saying something he’ll regret. “Don’t. Don’t talk about her like that. You don’t know her. She wouldn’t do this without a reason.”
“And what? She couldn’t tell you what the reason was and instead pussied out and left?” Heeseung is seeing red. “She should have told you she was leaving last night before she got your hopes up and accepted that ring, no? That’s fucked up.”
Jaeyun knows somewhere in his heart that Heeseung is right, but his love for you is still as strong as ever and his instincts kick in to defend you. He pushes Heeseung away, his voice dangerously quiet. “Fuck you. You don’t get to speak about her like that. I might not understand it now, but I don’t doubt in my mind she did it for a reason she thought was valid. She wouldn’t have told me last night to protect my feelings.”
Heeseung’s eyes flare with frustration, and for a moment, it seems like he might say something else. But instead, he scoffs, his words bitter. “Yeah? Well, how does it feel now? Do your feelings feel protected?” Silence. The whole house is still as he scoffs and sticks his tongue in his cheek, landing the final blow. “Think about that and tell me she did this out of love for you.”
Jaeyun stands in stunned silence as Heeseung storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Jaeyun’s fists clench at his sides. How can Heeseung speak like that, when he doesn’t know the real reason behind your departure? Jaeyun is furious, but there’s something else - something even more painful. He’s envious of Heeseung’s anger. He wishes he could just let it all out like that, wishes he could scream and rage, but instead, he just lets the pain sit, lets it fester. He needs a few more days of this hurt, of this confusion, before he can face what’s coming.
And what’s coming…is a life without you in it.
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>what exactly is preventing your society from arranging itself into a feudal society just as existed the last time humanity lived in pre-industrial conditions? The goal of my political project is about minimizing coercion. I have attempted to do this by creating material conditions in which people have little leverage over others, and social/political conditions which are free of spooks. When individuals aren't dependent on each other, then the conditions under which hierarchy develops do not arise.
>Collective, industrial labor can protect you from starvation a lot better than individual "primitive" labor can, and so I feel any "humiliation" one may experience by having to work alongside other people towards a collective goal is offset by the benefits of collectivization. Collectivization necessitates the atomization and negligibility of the individual, but I think we'd just have to agree to disagree on this one, since it's a matter of preference between an easy, less free life and a harder, freer life.
>My first disagreement is that Kaczynski (and you by extension) routinely conflate industrial technology with the social system of capitalism and thus assume that there exists a unique "industrial society" separate from capitalism that is responsible for all modern socio-psychological ills, and so if we were to abandon capitalism but retain industrial technology, then these socio-psychological ills would remain despite our best efforts. As a former leftist myself, the reason I left is because I read ISAIF, which laid out those problems which are inherent to Industrialism, regardless of the system that runs it. Nobody is saying that if we were to get rid of capitalism, life would not be better. In many ways it would. But the point of Neo-Luddism are those problems which no system can solve, the inherent aspects of Industrialism.
>My second disagreement is with Kaczynski's concept of the "power process", which his ideas of "surrogate activities" and his conception of autonomy come from. He is quite frankly just extrapolating his own experience as a middle-class white man living in the US to be a universal experience, and his own particular complexes with regards to individual power and autonomy as necessary for the human psyche with a "biological basis". This is the U.S. population by race and income. Obviously what Kaczynski wrote about was mostly applicable to the middle-class, because that's what a majority of people are.
https://www.pewresearch.org/race-and-ethnicity/2024/05/31/the-state-of-the-american-middle-class/
Kaczynski's analysis is irrelevant to his race, and is completely relevant to his material conditions, so I don't know why you added "white" into there. Anyway, basically all philosophy is extrapolating off your own personal experiences, and It'd be hard to find a psychological blueprint of the self that did not do this to some degree. Kaczynski gives good examples and sufficient reasoning to back his idea of the self. Kaczynski himself admitted that his manifesto was a very rough sketch of his ideas, but I would say that a need for autonomy and work are at least to some degree prevalent amongst the population. I, myself, do not agree with the idea that every human being follows this psychological model, but it is applicable to most.
>If I were to give him the greatest benefit of the doubt, I would say that what he is describing is in actuality the alienation of capitalist society. However, where Kaczynski inverts the Marxist conception of alienation is in presupposing that the pursuit of one's means of subsistence as an individual in the wilderness is inherently less alienating than industrial labor. He doesn't "presuppose" it; he spends most of the manifesto explaining why he feels that way.
>In any case, the Unabomber's manifesto is a thoroughly reactionary work that decries the modern decline in "traditional values", explicitly proclaiming racial and gender equality and LGBT rights to be socially negative. Kaczynski doesn't "decry" the decline of traditionalism. He outright mocks those who do, saying conservatives "whine about the decay of traditional values". What he does do is say that this decline in traditional values instead represents decline of small-scale social groups. I would disagree with Kaczynski on this front: Industrialism does not necessarily degrade social groups (Communism is a good example of the maintenance of these smaller groups). I think that you're speaking of his hatred of leftism. Yes, he does spend a good part of the manifesto spewing mostly unjustified nonsense about leftists, but he makes sure to explicitly say that he is not against their inherent ideas (he says abuse of women is a bad thing), just the psychological profile of leftism, saying "We do not mean to suggest that women, Indians, etc. are inferior; we are only making a point about leftist psychology." Kaczynski does however state some socially right-wing things, which I disagree with him on. He implies that transgenderism is a bad thing, which I would wholeheartedly disagree with (I am, in fact, transgender).
>He mythologizes the US settler colonial frontier lifestyle, treating it as an example of the type of society he thinks is ideal while ignoring the fact that these settlers were dependent on both the "collectivist" indigenous nations and the industrial cities they left behind for their survival. Kaczynski's accolades of the frontier lifestyle are based on his analysis of their material conditions, rather than their political ones. Futhermore, I wouldn't say that they were "dependent" on an Industrialized society. They lived mostly self-sufficient lives. Even if they were, he mostly uses it to point out how autonomy in labor leads to greater freedom and a satisfaction of the power process.
>He harps on about how we must only organize into "SMALL" groups of six people or less to preserve individual freedom and autonomy [...] despite the fact that humans routinely organize themselves into groups of hundreds of people within contemporary hunter-gatherer societies. "In those days an entire county might have only a couple of hundred inhabitants and was a far more isolated and autonomous entity than a modern county is. Hence the pioneer farmer participated as a member of a relatively small group in the creation of a new, ordered community. One may well question whether the creation of this community was an improvement, but at any rate it satisfied the pioneer’s need for the power process." Here, Kaczynski, while leaving the question of the group's creation up for the reader's discretion, does say that a group of a few hundred people could serve the need for the power process, and by extension, it is a satisfactory social arrangement. He does not "harp on" about "six people or less", he doesn't mention that at all.
>Kaczynski was an ignorant and bigoted man who thought he knew what was best for everyone else and murdered innocent people to make a statement. Besides the ad hominem, it's interesting to see you decry Kaczynski's killings despite supporting Lenin's revolution, which killed far more people. At any rate, all political philosophers more or less think they know what's best for everyone else, that's why they write: to improve the world.
>I would not agree that death is preferable. Explain why my reasoning is faulty.
>Kaczynski himself admits that what he calls surrogate activities are not universally unsatisfying. He asserts that either "many" or "most" people are unsatisfied, but he does not go so far as to say that all people are. I was generalizing, but wouldn't it be best to work toward a society where most people are satisfied (from a moralist perspective at least).
>then I say we can set aside some plot of land sufficient enough for however many people who want to live this lifestyle. If they decide to stay, then they can. If they don't, then they can come back. This is a very good segue into another problem I have with Industrialism: sustainability. No matter how conservatively you allocate resources, eventually, the mines will dry up, and the pastures will become infertile. There simply isn't a way to get around that Industrialism is built on the idea that there will always be replacement parts. Sometimes, you just have to throw things away. When enough stuff gets thrown away, we run out of resources, and the system will collapse. When this happens, the population will be so bloated and so many people will be alive that the consequences will be disastrous, far worse than if we simply dismantled or destroyed the system right now. The organized and industrialized agriculture would collapse, and when this happens there will be a famine unlike the world has ever seen. It is better to get rid of it now than later.
>But you arbitrarily declare the pride one feels from collective achievement to be the result of a "surrogate activity" and thus inherently lesser than individual achievement. The original point I was making was that you were alienated from the objects you used on a day-to-day basis. You did not create any of them, you were given them in exchange for your labor in a (usually) completely unrelated task relative to that thing's production. When you asked why that mattered, I said that when you used something you had made, you feel proud and good about it and yourself.
>Kaczynski did not make a distinction between individual and collective activities when defining his surrogate activity, his distinction was between whether or not the goal satisfied one's physical needs Not the definition of surrogate activity. This is: "Given a person who devotes much time and energy to the pursuit of goal X, ask yourself this: If he had to devote most of his time and energy to satisfying his biological needs, and if that effort required him to use his physical and mental faculties in a varied and interesting way, would he feel seriously deprived because he did not attain goal X? If the answer is no, then the person’s pursuit of goal X is a surrogate activity".
>I don't believe that activities that do not contribute to satisfying one's physical needs are "decadent" (in Kaczynski's words) or otherwise mentally harmful to the individual. You misunderstand the definition of surrogate activity, which is defined in the paragraph above. You said yourself that Kaczynski did not think that all non-subsistence activities are surrogate.
>That one can imagine a thing does not mean that thing can exist in the real world. By "imagine" I meant that such a social order could exist, obviously. You can "imagine" anything.
>And I'm perfectly fine with people who think like you being free to live in the wilderness as autonomously as you want, so long as you aren't hurting anyone else. (Bold and italics mine) That's where we have a disagreement: should a government be allowed to stop me from hurting others, from exercising my freedom without restriction?
>But why wouldn't more people specialize? I'm not saying that they wouldn't or that it'd be inherently bad. It's entirely possible everyone might have some kind of specialization (placed on top of their basic skills).
>How do you think we got to where we are today? Are the anarcho-primitivist egoists going to form a special order and go around burning down farms and pastures every time someone tries to re-invent agriculture? It's absurd to think that everyone will just abandon farming out of their own free will. Hunter-gatherers actually had a more varied and healthy diet than their farming counterparts*. I'd say it's absurd to think that everyone will just abandon hunter-gathering out of their own free will. Given that people did, in fact, abandon hunter-gatherer lifestyles in exchange for farming, I'd like to clarify. The level of technological order I propose would make living a quasi-primitive lifestyle much more consistent and easier than a primitive society (I'm not an anprim). I don't even think that practicing agriculture is inherently bad, it just tends to lead to coercive social arrangements that can be avoided via self-sufficient hunter-gatherer lifestyles
*https://www.pnas.org/doi/full/10.1073/pnas.2106743119
>What is the mechanism through which your egoist anarcho-primitivist society could be achieved The question of revolution is an important one. Personally, I'm a fan of "shadow cell" organization and direct-action. The first step to revolution is mass-radicalization. This will be easier in the coming years as everything goes to shit under the Trump Administration.
>what is the mechanism through which it would be maintained? Self-sufficency: the ability to eliminate coercion of dependence.
alright.
I'll start with Lenin first, then move to Marx. Lenin was an autocrat and a dictator. There's no way around it. He was unelected and created a one-party state. This was due to the fact that the revolution was led by a vanguard, which the members of, once they succeeded in overthrowing the old government, could easily set up a self-serving dictatorship. He's not a Marxist, and he's not a Socialist.
Since Lenin obviously did not in any way uphold the vision of Marx, I'll tackle him separately. A (stateless) communist society does eliminate many hierarchies, but leaves the most coercive systems untouched. Those being: the hierarchy of the collective over the individual and that coercion required of industrialism. In a commune, one's individual vote is negligible, since the outcome is only affected by one person's vote in very rare circumstances. Once the votes are tallied, the individual is expected to conform to the decisions of the majority, and to accept the commune's laws and customs. This leads to the individual becoming feeling helpless and weak.
Secondly, Marxism fails to address the coercion required to make an industrial society function. In order to have products, you must have a payroll of workers to stand where they are told to stand and do what they are told to do and go home and show up to work when they are told to do it. Instead of working towards goals that are immediate, which directly affect one's condition (such as building a house to live in), one must do a task or set of tasks that ultimately has little to do directly with one's own material well-being. Instead, the hyperspecialized work required in an industrial society is made livable indirectly via trade. This leads to a dependence on the industrial system as a whole, which requires a massive amount of cohesion to function.
Humans are no longer permitted to act autonomously since doing so would be a hindrance to the system. Behaviors which are not conducive to the system are disallowed, but all unimportant facets of our life which do not interfere with the functioning of the system are permitted to grow within said limits.
Lenin was elected as Chairman of the Council of People's Commissars by the Congress of Soviets a total of nine times before his death. His position was not one elected by the people directly, but rather he was elected by the congressional representatives of the soviets who were themselves elected by the people. You can argue that his position should have been directly elected if you want, but you cannot say he was unelected. Regardless, while the Chairman of the CPC was the head of government of the RSFSR, and later the Soviet Union, the CPC was not a one-person council and the council as a whole was subordinate to the Central Executive Committee, which was in turn subordinate to the Congress of Soviets. Lenin was not an autocrat or a dictator; he did not hold sole legal authority and the Soviet government had numerous checks and balances.
I see no reason to believe a vanguard party or a one-party state is undemocratic. The USSR was a dictatorship, but not a dictatorship of one person. It was a dictatorship of the proletariat, as the bourgeoisie were stripped of the right to vote and to be elected. You can object to this if you like, but I personally don't think that was a bad decision.
You seem to be arguing that Lenin was neither Marxist nor socialist because the nascent Soviet Union was not yet classless or stateless. Yet why should it have been expected to be? Communism is not something that can be achieved overnight, or even in one generation. In the meantime, there must be some mechanism for suppressing and overthrowing the bourgeoisie. No matter how democratic, how horizontal, and how people-oriented that mechanism is, it still constitutes a state insofar as it constitutes an organ for the oppression of one class by another. Unless you are arguing that the rights of the bourgeoisie should be maintained and protected, you cannot escape this fact.
At the point of achieving a stateless, classless communist society, I don't see why decision-making would necessarily be performed through simple majority vote. While it's rather pointless in my mind to be speculating about how a hypothetical communist society of the future might function, I think it's safe to say they'd be far more capable of exploring alternative forms of decision-making than we are now. In any case, the question of how a future communist society might function is entirely separate from questions of past and present systems of government.
You are right to point out that the industrial mode of production requires collective and specialized activity in order to function, but I fail to see what the alternative is. Humans are a social animal, our production has always been collective and we have always benefited from specialization in labor. The advancement in industry has made possible a reduction in socially necessary labor time, not an increase. It is capitalism and the profit motive that has mandated long hours and low autonomy in the workplace, not industry itself.
People are not inherently stupid or self-centered. They can understand very well the relationship between one sector of industry and another. You do not need to be building a house to understand how, for instance, the nails you are manufacturing will be used to build houses and other goods. You do not need to be manufacturing nails to understand how the iron you are mining will be used to make nails and other goods. The idea that it is alienating to be engaged in a task that is socially beneficial rather than merely individually beneficial is absurd.
You talk about social cohesion as if it is impossible or undesirable. But again, what is the alternative? An incoherent, fragmented society? No society at all, and people just fend for themselves as individuals? I fail to see how anything less than social cohesion is desirable.
You say that industrial society is coercive and prevents people from acting autonomously. I say, what does it mean to act autonomously? Humans must satisfy our basic needs before we can think about engaging in autonomous activity. If you are starving, you are compelled to seek food. If you are freezing, you are compelled to seek shelter. Individual freedom is subordinate to our material conditions, and only through improving our material conditions can we satisfy our basic needs and guarantee individual freedom.
If we are to have a society where the individual freedoms of everyone are maximized, then we must have a society which guarantees everyone their basic needs. Food, shelter, clothing, medicine, education, transportation, communication, etc. All of these must be secured before a person has full freedom to act autonomously. Improving the quality of these things and the efficiency of their production improves the standard of living and reduces socially necessary labor time, which allows for greater degrees of freedom.
You say behaviors which are not conducive to the system are disallowed. I do not necessarily disagree, but I feel you are intentionally obscuring the nature of such behaviors. What is “the system” here? The system is society. So a behavior not conducive to society is an anti-social behavior, a behavior that impedes or harms other members of society. Why should these behaviors be allowed? Is it maximizing autonomy and freedom to allow someone to steal or rape or murder with impunity? No, it is merely trading someone else's freedom and autonomy for your own.
You can certainly maximize your own freedom and autonomy at the expense of others, but if we are to live in a society where the freedom and autonomy of everyone is to be maximized, then there must be certain limits to individual behavior for the sake of others. Maybe someday humanity will evolve to a state where one can live in their own private world with maximum freedom to do as they please without worrying about impacting others, but until that day we will have to live in a society with other people and the social restrictions that come with that. Personally, I don't think it's such a burden to have to care about other people.
Society as it stands today is indeed imperfect and often oppressive. Socialist states in the past and present have yet to achieve the classlessness and statelessness that marks higher-stage socialism, i.e. communism. They too are imperfect and have restricted people's behavior in various ways, some I would argue are necessary, and some I would argue are unnecessary. However, I believe that socialism offers us the greatest opportunity to improve society as a whole and liberate humanity from oppressive structures. I believe that capitalism remains the central impediment to the advancement of society and the pursuit of human freedom. I believe that a vanguard party and a dictatorship of the proletariat have been the most effective means of combating the bourgeoisie so far. And I believe that the advancement of science and industry has been the most effective means of securing and improving the basic needs of the people as a whole.
My question to you remains: what is the alternative? You can criticize all you want, and thoughtful and rational critique of all things is both important and beneficial, but unless you have an alternative to socialist revolution and industrial society, then you're just throwing the baby out with the bathwater. How are we to combat the bourgeoisie without a vanguard or a state? How are we to provide people with their basic needs without industrial production?
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physical affection m.list | rules
pairing. jason todd x reader
note. hello there! this one is to heal my own heart tbh because I read too much angst with my boy and I need him to be happy :( pleased don't hesitate to request <3
Jason Todd had never been known for being the most gentle and sweet person on Earth. Actually, most of the people who knew him would say that he was a freaky killing machine. When, in fact, he simply had some problems expressing himself correctly. He would die to be close to someone freely, but he was too scared for that. Scared of everything if he let anyone enter his life. Until you arrived.
You were some fresh air in his life, a soft wind helping him to finally breathe again. He was still scared, obviously, but you were making things easier. He felt like he could let his guard down when he was with you, and he never thought he would learn how to do that in his life.
You were watching TV in silence, Jason sitting right next to you in your apartment. He was obviously more looking at you than at what was playing on the screen, observing your figure like he was trying to learn it by heart. In a gentle move, he grabbed your hand in his. You looked at him, and you heard his voice going out softly while looking at your hand.
“Your hands are so small. Look,” he said, putting your palm against his to compare the size of your hands. It made you smile ever so softly, and when you were about to say something, you saw his fingers getting interlocked with yours. With that, he simply held your hand before resting his head against your shoulder. You restrained that sweet laugh that almost escaped you before looking back at the TV, your grip on his hand slightly tightening.
One of the things Jason used to do a lot was pretexting that he wanted you to be safe so he could get some physical affection from you. You were about to cross the road after looking at each side of it when you felt a hand grabbing yours. You glanced at your boyfriend who slowly shrugged your shoulders and said “Just to be safe”. And for sure you would be safe with Red Hood himself around you.
Grabbing your hand wasn’t the only thing he would do though. Jason loved your hair, even if he didn’t exactly know why. It was just so soft and playing with it was probably the best thing he ever did to calm himself. You were peacefully doing your skincare that night, hair down while applying your face mask, when Jason arrived from behind you. His fingers slowly passed through the end of your hair and you looked at him through the mirror.
“Want to help me? I need to brush them.” You told him and the boy looked up at you the second after. He slowly nodded and you grabbed your hair brush to give it to him. You both left the bathroom so you could sit on the bed, him being right behind you. His movements were so slow, so gentle. You were the only one who had the chance to see him like that, and you would never be glad enough for that.
But he wasn’t the only one to seek this affection, of course. First, you would never say no to him if he wanted you to cuddle him in a way or another. But you were also never missing a chance to cling onto him when you were in public spaces. Not only because you wanted people to know that the man was with you, but also because you didn’t like to be surrounded by a crowd too dense.
Jason was your safe place, and you slowly realized that you were also his. It was working well, especially because you could tell that he was doing more effort than he ever did. He really wanted to trust you, even if it was complicated for him at some point. Trusting issues were an obvious thing, but he was working on it.
He loved you more than anything else, and he would do everything to make it work.
thank you!
#dc comics#dc universe#dcu#batfam#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason x reader#red hood#red hood x reader#red hood x you
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How to Detect Text Written by AI
Once my mutuals reminded me not to let fear take over and to get out of my own head, I did. And when I did, I realized something—those who are feeding authors’ fics into these notoriously unreliable AI detectors are actually helping these companies by giving them more data. And most of these companies? They also have their own AI content generation tools, which means they are using the samples of the writing of from those authors’ to improve their own AI generation tools.
So now, I’m not just scared—I’m scared and mad.
Instead of making unproductive call-out posts that don’t actually help the community recognize AI-generated text, let’s do something useful. Let’s talk about ways you can be empowered as a reader to spot AI-generated content.
There is no fool proof method to figure out for sure if a text is AI generated, unless you are literally physically sitting with the writer watching them write like they are a zoo animal.
AI detectors are unreliable and inconsistent. Plus, with how quickly AI-generated content is evolving, these tools are constantly lagging behind, making them outdated and even less effective over time.
Thus far, the best AI detection is YOU. It isn’t easy at first, but the research shows that you can learn how to do this.
One article from the MIT Technology Review (2019) states:
Another study found that untrained humans were able to correctly spot text generated by GPT-3 only at a level consistent with random chance. The good news is that people can be trained to be better at spotting AI-generated text, Ippolito says. She built a game to test how many sentences a computer can generate before a player catches on that it’s not human, and found that people got gradually better over time. “If you look at lots of generative texts and you try to figure out what doesn’t make sense about it, you can get better at this task,” she says. One way is to pick up on implausible statements, like the AI saying it takes 60 minutes to make a cup of coffee.
Fun fact: This article has the journalist submitting her own work to various AI detectors, one of them being Originality.AI, which indicated her writing had a 50-50 split on being AI and human.
One of the problems with these large language models (LLMs), as this article from Capitol Technology University points out, is that it has made AI generated text more complex, making it harder to tell it apart from human writing. But, they share some signs you can look for, as described from their article below:
Inconsistencies and repetition: Occasionally, AI produces nonsensical or odd sentences which can be a clear indicator of AI-generated text. Abrupt shifts in tone, style, or topic can point to AI that is struggling to maintain coherent ideas. Whereas humans often vary structure to create a better flow, repeated phrases or sentence structures can point to AI relying more on memorized patterns. Occasionally, AI produces nonsensical or odd sentences which can be a clear indicator of AI-generated text.
Context and content: If the text seems to be unable to grasp the larger context of the writing, is missing the point entirely, or references specific details without appropriate context, it could be AI.
Does that mean all inconsistencies, excessive repetition, or overly descriptive writing automatically indicate AI-generated text? No, absolutely not. Writing styles vary, and many human writers naturally have quirks like these.
This article from Forbes (2024) identified 5 ways to help identify AI generated content, but I feel these 3 specific ones best apply to fiction and fanfics:
Language Patterns: AI generated text tends to lack emotional subtlety, be overly formal, or use complex words, leading to the sentences sounding stiff and not flowing well. Alternatively, the over use of cliches. Consistency Issues: AI generated text tends to struggle with narrative details, leading to abrupt changes in the story. For example an abrupt change in the description of a setting without explanation. Unusual Language Errors: Sometimes AI generated text uses odd and unusual phrases that feel out of place.
Again, does this automatically mean that writing lacking emotional subtlety or being overly formal is AI-generated? No, not at all. Writing styles vary, and some authors naturally have a more formal tone or a direct approach to storytelling.
If I find a story that I think is AI-generated, what should I do?
1. Pause and Assess – Don't Jump to Conclusions
AI-generated text can sometimes be hard to distinguish from human writing, and many of the so-called “signs” of AI can also be just someone’s writing style or someone being new to writing. Before assuming a fic is AI-generated, take a step back and look at it critically.
Does it actually feel off in a way that suggests AI (such as major consistency errors, repetitive phrases, or nonsensical sentences)?
Or does it just have a different writing style than you’re used to?
2. Don’t Rely on AI Detectors
As shown in multiple studies and real-world examples, AI detectors are not reliable. They are inconsistent, often outdated, and can flag even completely human-written work as AI. Using them as definitive proof, even with the above information does more harm than good.
Also, some of these AI detectors programs also have AI generation programs. You are literally providing more data to these programs to help improve generate AI text.
If an AI detection program does not appear to have a a sister program that generate AI content, ask yourself:
Could this company be mangaged by a parent company that DOES have an AI generated program?
Have you read the terms and conditions to agree to use this AI detection program? If not, have you considered where does the data you have it analyze go? Is it stored and sold to 3rd parties to be used to improve AI generated content programs?
3. Consider Reaching Out to the Author First
If you still have doubts, and you feel it’s appropriate, you could politely reach out to the author. Instead of accusing them, ask about their writing process or how they developed the story. Most human writers love to talk about their inspiration, research, and creative choices.
4. Avoid Public Call-Outs
Unless you have strong, irrefutable proof (which is very hard to get), publicly accusing someone of using AI can do serious harm—both to the writer and to the community as a whole. False accusations drive real writers away from sharing their work.
5. If You’re Concerned About AI in Creative Spaces, Advocate for Constructive Discussions
Instead of call-outs and AI detectors, push for conversations on how to navigate AI in fandoms and creative writing spaces in a way that doesn’t rely on fear or false accusations. Encourage transparency, but also respect that writers shouldn’t have to prove their humanity just to share their work.
Thank you and I will now go back to playing in my little section of the dragon age sandbox where I make Solas kiss Lavellan.
#vir talks#anti ai#dragon age#solavellan#fandom critical#it is almost 1am and i should be asleep but instead i'm being impulsive#i am now returning back to my DA content
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have some reborn au. tori's second chunin exams arc
i think i've posted some of this before, and some of it i..... don't think i have? the beginning i'm like 90% sure i posted, so don't just skip the whole post if it seems familiar.
there's a [...] where there's missing scenes. also i think the reason i never posted sections of this are i didn't like certain details or wanted a few scenes to be better. however i'm in a Posting Mood
xXx
Tori was having a problem. Several problems, actually.
“I’m not even allowed to submit a proposal without some idiot chunin co-signing,” she complained, pacing back and forth in front of Deidara. He was seated on his bed, rubbing ointment into the pink patches of his feet and legs that his medic hadn’t quite healed all the way.
Deidara had… set a field on fire, or something, on his mission. Whatever. Kushina-sensei had gently hinted at Tori that she should go over and make sure he didn’t need help cooking or cleaning, as while Konoha hospital could fix up most things, Deidara had still landed himself three weeks leave with foot injuries.
Obviously, Deidara had yelled at her and set a clay flea off in her face for even hinting he might need help. Convincing him to let her ladle the big pot of her mediocre curry soup she’d lugged over into his own tupperware had been a whole ordeal filled with yelling and a couple minor explosions. But once she had that out of the way and a bunch of tupperwares in his fridge, she was taking his presence in town as an excuse to rant about her own problems in her new lab assignment.
“My new supervisor wants me on dish duty,” she went on, gesturing furiously with both hands. “I know every piece of research fuinjutsu better than anyone there, and I get dish duty? I wouldn’t mind cleaning my own dishes, or if everyone was cleaning dishes, but my ideas for projects just get ignored. Who cares that I’m a genin? I have more experience than any of the chunin in that lab.”
She’d complained to higher management and attempted to get reassigned, but it seemed she was being ignored. She was afraid she’d have to go through Kushina to get facetime with the Hokage. She didn’t want to play nepotism; she wanted to earn this herself.
Deidara looked at her like she was stupid.
“If it’s a rank problem,” he said, “then just go get promoted to chunin, yeah.”
Tori stared back at him, flummoxed. This idea hadn’t occurred to her. She was quite confident she could handle any task any chunin might encounter in a lab. She was reasonably certain she could perform better than some of the jounin in a lab, even, especially if she got to head her own projects in her own specialties. But… chunin were meant to lead missions. They had to be able to fight things, had to know some set number of jutsu, had to have all the rules and ordinances memorized.
“Do you think I’m qualified?” Tori wondered out loud.
She really only had a grab bag of jutsu under her belt, the product of only bothering to learn things that interested her. Her combat skills mostly revolved around hitting things with a stick, or irreversibly destroying flesh in an extremely slipshod way. It seemed like a vast overestimation that she might be qualified for a promotion.
Deidara managed to look even more unimpressed with her.
“What the hell do you think chunin are?” he asked.
“Squadron leaders?” Tori tried.
“Not the baby ones,” Deidara told her. “Anyone with two brain cells to rub together can make chunin. The only reason you’re not already promoted is that Iwa is filled with assholes, yeah.”
This seemed… wrong, somehow. She’d mostly just gotten as far as she did in the Iwa exam by relying on others. But, maybe, she could swing an internal promotion?
Tori went and looked up the official minimum qualifications for chunin promotion. She did qualify, it seemed. Apparently you only needed the Academy three ninjutsu to make chunin, although more were recommended. And maybe she should review all these rules and internal structures she was supposed to know…
The minimum mission requirement was also only one C-rank, which seemed too low. It also seemed like her various higher ranking missions maybe shouldn’t count. The Iwa fiasco had mostly just been her playing side-kick, up until she basically just lied through her teeth for a very stressful few hours. The Sasori fiasco wasn’t exactly a shining moment for her either. It all really depended on her being on a team with a bunch of monsters rather than her own talents, honestly.
Oh well. It wouldn’t hurt to try, she supposed. It wasn’t like the Hokage’s office didn’t know exactly who she was and the details of her on-paper accomplishments.
She filled out a form for promotion-by-mission and turned it in. Two days later she was called into the Hokage’s office. Minato was literally eating a sandwich while he talked to her, apparently on his lunch break.
“Right,” Minato said, swallowing. He picked her application off a pile of papers and slid it across his desk to her. “I’m not approving this.”
“Okay,” Tori said, having expected as much.
“Because I want you to go to the next exam,” he continued. “It’s in Kiri.”
“Oh,” Tori replied, surprised. So she’d have to prove her qualifications? Annoying.
“I think you should aim to win the tournament,” Minato said through another mouthful of sandwich. “Make it flashy. It’ll be a good showing for Konoha.”
“Wait—” Tori started. “I’m not—”
“I’m going to okay you to reduce lab hours if you feel like you need training,” Minato continued, unperturbed by the madness he was spitting. He passed another, stamped form across the desk for her, brushing sandwich crumbs off of it. “You have six weeks. Kushina said she’d register you. Let me know if you need anything.”
He dismissed her. Tori wandered out of his office gripping her exemption paperwork in both hands. Less lab time was the opposite of what she wanted!
Deidara laughed at her when she reported what happened. There was, she noted, empty curry-stained tupperware in his sink.
“I can’t win the tournament,” Tori bemoaned as he snickered. She was really more of a “promoted due to clever thinking” type of kunoichi. “Make it flashy? What is he thinking?”
“Probably that most genin actually just suck, yeah,” Deidara told her. “Do you think Kushina-sensei could convince him to let me go to the tournament?”
Apparently the idea of watching her fight was deeply funny to Deidara. He talked for a very long time about wanting to see her panic and melt a small child into goo in front of all their friends and family. Tori buried her face in her hands.
“Oh, then you’d get a pay raise,” Deidara said, eyes suddenly brightening. “We could move somewhere better, yeah.”
“Deidaraaa,” she whined.
xXx
The lab sink was already filled with dirty test tubes in the morning. The new chunin had mislabeled several samples the day before, and now the experiment was ruined, and Tori was in charge of clean-up. Tori listened to the chunin explain this, glaring at the sink.
“So I’ll be setting it up again while you clean,” the chunin said.
It wasn’t that Tori thought she’d never mislabel something. It was that she had enough experience to know to double-check, and if she managed to screw it up anyway, she’d clean up her own fuck-ups.
Plus, everyone had ignored that she’d pointed out their control for this experiment made no sense. There was a huge risk that whatever results they got, if this chunin could get it to work at all, would be totally uninterpretable.
“Actually, I have an exemption,” Tori told the chunin. “I just came in to say I’ll be out for a while.”
She fled the lab. Kushina’s office door was always open.
“Oh!” Kushina said when Tori knocked. “You’re getting started on training earlier than I thought. Donut?”
She had a small box of donut holes she pushed at Tori. Kushina always had snacks on hand, because she liked bribing people into see her in person.
“I talked it over with Minato,” Kushina said, twirling a pen in her fingers as she spoke. “Basically, we think it’d be a good PR move if you sort of showed off that Konoha is basically the best at fuuinjutsu.”
“Okay,” Tori said. She could do that, at least… probably.
“You weren’t really flashy with it in the Iwa tournament,” Kushina continued. “So we’ll have to come up with something. Maybe you can work on giving some speeches about how your jutsu works like some weirdos do. Oh, but don’t show off you can use nonhuman chakra; we don’t want that getting out until it has to.” Kushina frowned slightly. “And I guess you shouldn’t melt any other genin. That’d be bad for international relations.”
“Okay,” Tori repeated. That just severely limited her combat capabilities. “Um, Hokage-sama told me to… win the tournament?”
She waited for Kushina to say Minato was being ridiculous. Instead she beamed and said, “Well, of course! I want my team to be three-for-three, you know!”
Kushina then made her take the rest of the box of donuts and shooed her out of the office, with a promise they’d make a training schedule.
“It’ll only be like twice a week,” Kushina said as Tori gathered up her bag. “Don’t want to distract you from the lab!”
“But,” Tori started. She needed… more than that, if she was even going to pass, let alone win a tournament.
“Bye!” Kushina replied.
Tori walked out of Hokage Tower feeling completely unsure of what to do. She could go… think about combat fuuinjutsu? Except, she’d moved most of her materials to her desk in R&D in a bid for separate work and personal time, and she did not want to go back there right now.
Well, she knew Deidara was in town and not doing anything. She went and asked him if he wanted to train.
Deidara took at her in deep distrust. “Who are you and what did you do with Tori?”
“Come on,” Tori whined. “I brought you donuts.”
Deidara was walking with a slight limp, but he did accept the rest of the donut holes and then shuffled out the door.
“We can use my grounds, yeah,” he said, still sounding suspicious that she wanted to train at all.
Deidara had his own assigned training ground, out in a field away from anything else. It was filled with half-made sculptures covered in tarp that Tori had decorated in fuuinjutsu herself, to reduce the chance of random explosions.
The field was also completely riddled with potholes, blown into the ground by Deidara’s various experiments. Deidara wasn’t exactly quick on his feet right now, but he did spend the rest of the morning attempting to shove Tori into various holes and then close them over her, making fun of her the entire time.
So probably she was improving at… something. Getting out of death traps, maybe.
Kushina, at least, did get back to her with a schedule fairly quickly. Kushina had blocked off some time in the afternoons on Mondays and Thursdays, and gone ahead and made training ground reservations.
“Do you have anything you want to do?” Kushina asked while she tied her hair up in preparation for what Tori assumed was two hours of kicking Tori’s ass.
“I mean, I can come up with something,” Tori said. Then she added slowly, “But I’m not sure it would be… flashy.”
“Nah, flashy isn’t really your style,” Kushina agreed. “I figured I’d just give you something from the ol’ vault.”
“‘The vault’?” Tori repeated.
“An Uzushio technique,” Kushina clarified.
“But isn’t that…” Tori started, and then was unsure how to finish her sentence.
The Konoha school of fuuinjutsu— which was ultimately closest to what Tori had ended up teaching herself, since her main instructor at the very beginning of her convoluted journey was Orochimaru— was the most similar amongst shinobi villages to traditional Uzushio practices, due to generations of intellectual trade between Uzushio and various Fire Country shinobi clans, especially the Senju.
Konoha fuuinjutsu and Uzushio fuuinjutsu weren’t synonymous though. A lot of Uzushio practices had been completely lost. Kushina had immigrated to Konoha with an entire trunk of scrolls, and one of her long term projects as Konoha’s head of fuuinjutsu was hunting down and recovering Uzushio techniques for preservation. These techniques were highly prized and rarely taught even to Konoha ninja, and Tori was barely even Konoha.
“Isn’t that like… for your family?” Tori asked.
Kushina frowned down at her.
“What are you talking about?” she said. “You’re my student. Of course I’m teaching you my techniques.”
Kushina did proceed to kick Tori’s ass for the next two hours, except instead of just hitting things at her, Kushina threw in some “what do you think of THIS technique?” moves. The training ground ended up completely ripped to shreds. Afterwards, Kushina lined up a bunch of scrolls containing the techniques which had nearly just murdered Tori and went over the pros and cons.
“I want something more subtle,” Tori said, clutching her bruised ribs, because what the fuck?
“No,” Kushina chided, “it has to be big and flashy, you know! We went over this!”
Tori was assigned a scroll and sent off to study it.
xXx
Tori attempted to demonstrate it for Deidara. She dropped the sealing paper into a bucket of water. The water inside twisted into gentle swirls.
“Uh huh,” Deidara said, unimpressed. He held out a hand and a clay water strider hopped onto the water’s surface. It zipped around, not the least bit disturbed by the slowly moving water.
Tori frowned and made a hand sign, attempting to add more chakra to the seal. The water picked up slightly. The clay bug was still unperturbed.
“A whirlpool, you said?” Deidara said, a mean smile pulling at the corners of his lips.
“Shut up,” Tori replied.
xXx
[...]
xXx
The problem with doing anything with Kushina was that there was a small but very real chance the Hokage would just be there.
Tori had expected to speak to him. He was their ride to and from the beach. She assumed the necessity of his presence was why she was meeting Kushina at her house and not some more central location. Tori had also assumed that Minato’s presence would be temporary.
Instead, Minato was in swim trunks and holding a large straw bag. Naruto was behind him, also in swim trunks, swinging a shovel around like some sort of weapon and making whooshing noises with his mouth.
“Uh,” Tori said.
“Don’t mind them,” Kushina replied. She was also dressed for the beach, in a mesh dress over a one piece. A pair of sunglasses sat on top of her head. She held a second straw bag in her hands. “They’ll just be hanging out.”
“But…” the protest died on Tori’s lips. It was an extreme act of favoritism for her to get to go to a beach for training for a day. It would be rude to complain that Minato and Naruto also wanted to hang out with Kushina. “Okay.”
The beach Minato teleported them to was on an island, out in the middle of nowhere off the southern coast of Fire Country. Unlike a lot of his Hiraishin markers, this one was not here as the result of a war mission, because this place had seen no fighting.
The marker he took them to was in an old outpost building on the eastern most point of the island, left over from generations ago during the warring clans ers, when there was fear of an attack from the sea in this area. But since Konoha had unified all the ninja in Fire Country, all the in-fighting had halted. The only true risk of attack came from Water Country, and there were more and better placed outposts to monitor their waters. This building was abandoned and basically falling apart, and only good for providing shade.
“Remember when your dad abandoned us here,” Kushina was saying to Naruto, tone humorous, “and it stormed, and we had to hide inside for hours?”
“Oooh yeah,” Naruto nodded knowingly, “because he had an ‘emergency meeting’ about something dumb, and he said he’d come right back, but then he didn’t.”
“The fruit vendors’ union was in a state of extreme duress,” Kushina said solemnly.
“They’re never going to let me live that one down,” Minato said to Tori with a good humored smile.
Kushina led them down the beach and around to the side of the island that faced the mainland. There were barely any waves on this side of the island, and the tide was far in enough that there was only a thin strip of white sand between the water and the tree line. Naruto kicked joyfully in the shallow water, running ahead and then running back.
They hung their stuff in the trees, with Kushina pulling out a belt of scrolls and strapping it around her waist.
“Is Mom going to do something cool?” Naruto said, vibrating in place.
“We can watch,” Minato said, squatting next to him. “Here.”
Naruto climbed onto his back, giggling as he went.
Oh god, I’m their entertainment, Tori thought. She did not, actually, want the Hokage to watch her embarrass herself. She didn’t even want a ten year old kid to watch her.
(Maybe she especially didn’t want the ten year old kid watching her? Little kids could be mean and judgemental, and Minato had taught Obito. He’d definitely seen more embarrassing stuff than whatever Tori was about to fail at.)
They walked out over the water. It was shallow for a long while, and the water was clear enough that Tori could see all sorts of big rocks waiting to appear when the tide went out. When they reached deeper water, the water beneath them suddenly went dark.
“Don’t like that,” Naruto said, squinting down at it. It was kind of spooky, Tori privately agreed.
Kushina motioned for them to stop, then walked out further by herself. Then she turned to them and pulled a scroll from her belt.
“Okay!” she called. “Get ready!”
She then bounded backwards, putting even more distance between them, and tossed the scroll out from herself. It unrolled at her feet and across the surface of the water, and then ink rapidly crawled out from it. Tori squinted at it. It looked like the lines of characters crawled out from the scroll and then sank into the water.
There was maybe a thirty second delay between Kushina unrolling the scroll and then the water in front of them suddenly moving. It swept sideways, and then grew in velocity such that both Tori and Minato had to leap back to avoid being swept away. The giant whirlpool’s center dipped down into the water. If they’d started off closer to Kushina, Tori wasn’t sure she would have been able to escape being sucked in. If Tori hadn’t known exactly what was going to happen and not been warned, she probably wouldn’t have expected the attack to have this sort of range and not backed off quick enough.
“Whoa!” Naruto cried. “Mom’s so cool!”
“Right?” Minato replied.
Kushina skirted the edge of the whirlpool back to them.
“Ta-da!” she said, throwing her hands in the air. She had to pitch her voice loud over the sound of the water. “These used to be all around Uzushio, to keep people out. And we used to use little ones to fish. But I don’t see why you couldn’t use it for that very flashy attack you want, Tori, right?”
Tori hadn’t actually wanted a flashy attack, but she didn’t point that out with the guy who ordered her to be flashy standing right there.
“You’re going to use that in a fight?” Naruto asked, peering down at Tori from his perch on his father’s back. “I thought you were the lame one on your team.”
“Naruto,” Kushina scolded immediately.
“That’s the plan,” Tori told Naruto, unperturbed. “I’m supposed to convince everyone I’m cool.”
“I thought you were just going to win the tournament,” Naruto said. “Everyone would think you’re cool if you won.”
Oh god, what has Kushina-sensei been saying about me? Tori wondered. Outloud, she said, “Sometimes the goal of a fight isn’t to win.”
“Really?” Naruto asked, wrinkling his nose like this was perplexing. He aimed his question at the back of Minato’s head rather than Tori.
“She’s right,” Minato said. “You and I can talk about it more when we go make a sand castle.”
“She is going to win though, you know,” Kushina said, hands on hips.
“Just keep in mind the goal is to show off fuuinjutsu,” Minato said, turning to Tori. “You want the audience to see what you’re doing. Don’t be sneaky.”
“What?” Tori said. She pointed at the whirlpool. “That took like half a minute to activate. How am I supposed to use it without being sneaky?”
“Thirty seconds is pretty fast for a genin,” Minato said.
Tori chewed her lip, unsure how to answer. So he thought she’d be even slower? How did pointing that out help her?
“It would also be good for PR if you seemed…” Minato arranged Naruto on his back awkwardly. “I don’t know, peppy?”
“Peppy?” Kushina repeated with a barking laugh.
“I don’t know, what makes people want to hire a teenaged girl?” Minato asked.
“Coolness,” Naruto said immediately.
“Oh, you think she should be cute?” Kushina said, frowning slightly. She tapped her chin. “Tori, you can be charming for a couple hours, right?”
“No?” Tori tried, voice cracking. Well, probably if she was playing off a specific person. But she had no idea how to charm a whole audience and then also do all this crazy combat stuff at the same time.
“I’m sure you can manage,” Minato said, smiling at her with more confidence than his opinion deserved. “C’mon, Naruto, let’s go play.”
He left. Tori watched them, and when they were back at the beach, she asked:
“Did you give Deidara this many caveats?”
“Hm?” Kushina said. “No, of course not. You think Deidara could be anything but a screaming maniac in a fight? We just told him not to kill anyone and figured the explosions would make anyone want to hire him.”
Wow, Tori thought as Kushina turned to deactivate her whirlpool. I can’t believe marketability is this important to being a ninja.
Tori spent the rest of the morning squatting on the water with scrolls in her lap, making seals for whirlpools while Kushina stood over her with arms crossed. The seal required a certain amount of chakra manipulation from the user, which wasn’t the way Tori liked to design her own seals, and her misunderstanding of this was what had been causing her problems. It took several tries to get an actual whirlpool.
It was… very small, only the size of her palm. It was almost cute.
“Well, it worked,” Tori deadpanned. “Could I catch fish in it?”
“Absolutely not,” Kushina said, but her tone was good-humored. “You definitely got the jutsu down though; good job. You just need to put in more chakra to make it bigger.”
“More chakra?” Tori asked, peering up at Kushina. She did a few calculations in her head. If the amount of chakra was proportional to the size of the whirlpool… “I’m not sure I even have enough chakra to make a whirlpool as big as yours.”
“Eh, you probably won’t even have that much water,” Kushina said dismissively. “Do it again, and we’ll see how big you can make it.”
Tori went back to the shore for lunch feeling deeply dissatisfied and weak-limbed from chakra loss. Naruto ran over to them the second Kushina’s foot hit the shore, Minato following him.
“It’s not a big deal,” Kushina said as she unpacked their food. “Lots of jutsu have high chakra costs, and shinobi deal with that everyday. Minato, how many times can you use rasengan in one fight?”
Presumably because the limitations of a Hokage’s signature jutsu were state secrets, Minato took a long chug of water instead of answering.
“I don’t like it,” Tori muttered, accepting a bento box. “It doesn’t feel… safe. I’d rather use algae chakra or something.”
“Okay, this isn’t going to be life or death, you know,” Kushina said. “This is a perfectly safe opportunity to get comfortable with risk assessment for when you can or should use a chakra-heavy technique or not.”
“She’s right,” Minato agreed. “Our relations with Kiri are good. This isn’t going to be like your other exam. No one’s going to try and kill you.”
I don’t think that’s true, Tori thought. People were always trying to kill her. It was part of her charm.
“Are you worried about pushing through a fight low on chakra?” Kushina asked, settling down on a beach towel with her own lunch. Naruto plopped down next to her, immediately getting sand all over the towel.
“No, I’m confident I can handle that,” Tori said. She didn’t favor chakra-heavy techniques, but she’d definitely fucked up a lot of jutsu experiments and spent way more chakra than she meant, and being in Oto ment sometimes you just had to do a task post losing all your chakra to an experiment.
“Good,” Kushina said, nodding to herself. “Because I know you’ve been sparring with Deidara, and… well, I don’t think he or I are good for advice on that.”
Tori snorted. No, she didn’t think they would be.
“Do ninja have to fight a lot with no chakra?” Naruto asked, sounding concerned.
Minato, seated on his own towel rolled out next to them, poked Naruto’s leg with one foot.
“You probably won’t have that problem,” Minato said. “Because you’re your mother’s son. But yes, it’s normal to have to do a mission low on chakra, or tired, or hungry.”
“That sounds like it sucks,” Naruto said, frowning. “Why would you assign a mission that sucks?”
Minato grinned back at him. “Well, I try really hard to make missions as easy as possible, but sometimes things go wrong.”
“Like a storm during the fruit vendor union’s meeting,” Kushina said brightly.
“Er. Yes, like that…”
Tori sat on her own towel across from them, eating in silence as she watched the family tease each other. It seemed wild they were all being this nonchalant while she was freaking out. Then again, why would they care about her, when they had their own little happy family to concern themselves with?
The problem with practicing high-chakra techniques was that Tori had already spent so much chakra that not even resting and eating had recouped enough to make anything besides a tiny whirlpool. She was done with that training for the day, whether she wanted to be or not.
“I guess Minato can take you home, if you want,” Kushina said. “Or you can stay. Have you ever been on a beach before, Tori?”
Tori hadn’t seen a beach in years. Tori did actually quite like the beach; she probably would have been overjoyed if she hadn’t come here already stressed and upset. She agreed to stay.
The tide had gone out, leaving a wide stretch of wet sand that glinted in the sunlight, algae-covered boulders, and shallow tide pools. Tori watched the Namikaze-Uzumaki family walk out over it, led by Naruto’s screams of delight.
Tori stripped off her kunoichi dress, down to her bathing suit, and kicked off her sandals. She’d been swimming in plenty of rivers and lakes, but she’d missed the sensation of sand between her toes.
“Whoa!” Naruto cried. “Look at this guy!”
He held up a horseshoe crab. Tori jogged over to them, eager to look at it herself.
“They have blue blood,” she told Naruto excitedly. He looked up at her curiously. “Because their blood cells use copper as an oxygen carrier instead of iron. Isn’t that cool?”
Naruto’s face of wonder at the idea of blue blood shifted to confusion. Tori wasn’t sure this kid had understood a single thing she’d told him, possibly ever. Kushina laughed at them.
They spent the afternoon combing the tide pools for cool little creatures. Kushina knew the names for almost all of them, from the two different types of mudskippers they unearthed, to a bunch of different types of crabs, to a handful of sea cucumbers, to a rainbow of anemones and seaweeds.
“Tide pool hopping was my favorite game, back in Uzushio, you know,” Kushina told Tori with a hint of sadness in her voice. She held up the tiny hermit crab in her palm. “I used to keep a bunch of these. I was always hoping they’d move into the prettier shells I’d find for them. They never did, though.”
She laughed, but the sound was quieter than Kushina’s laughs usually were.
Tori opened her mouth to say she’d always begged her parents for a hermit crab when she was a kid, because she liked the painted shells seaside shops sold with them. The story died on her lips before she could make a single syllable. That part of her life was way over. She only ever let herself think about it in the darkest part of the night now.
Instead she said, “Yeah, tide pools are super cool. I like reading about them. I’m glad I could see them in person.”
Kushina grinned at her.
“I’m lucky I can still share stuff like this with my family,” Kushina said, voice brighter now. She gently replaced the hermit crab on the edge of its tide pool. “If you ever want to join us again, sometimes we also go to a mainland beach in…”
Kushina babbled. At some point, Minato disappeared and reappeared with a bunch of popsicles. Tori found a spiral of shark eggs and attempted to convince a giggling Naruto he should eat them. They went back to their things only to discover biting ants had invaded all of their bags.
“We could put out food and draw them away!” Naruto said, a handful of chips from their lunch suddenly in his hands.
“Do not do that,” Minato yelped, grabbing for Naruto’s wrist.
They went home all covered in ant bites. Apparently not even a Kage could win against mother nature.
Tori walked home with a smile on her face, happy with her afternoon. It wasn’t until she was home and heating up water for instant noodles that she realized she hadn’t actually solved any of her problems. She could make a medium whirlpool now, but she’d only get one shot at it, and she had no idea how to approach that.
Oh god, she thought, heartbeat suddenly increasing. And I only have two weeks left!
xXx
Kushina and Deidara just spammed high-chakra techniques as much as they wanted. They wouldn’t be good for advice. But Tori did have another teammate.
Itachi was annoyingly hard to track down nowadays. He took a lot of away missions in ANBU, which Minato was tightlipped about with even Kushina, so that route of tracking his movements was limited. If Tori wanted to find him, she had to talk to his family, which she always felt super awkward about.
“He didn’t give us a return date, dear,” Mikoto told her when she answered the door, smile serene. Tori wondered if she seemed dumb in Mikoto’s eyes. Yes, she knew ANBU agents often couldn’t say when they’d be back. She just thought she’d ask on the off chance that he had!
Mikoto offered to let her stay for tea. Tori fled as quickly and politely as she could.
Tori started doing increasingly unhinged things, like watching the Academy when it let out because she knew Itachi liked picking up Sasuke and would prioritize getting home in time to do it if he could. She spent a lot of time haunting the outside of ANBU HQ and Itachi’s favorite bakery. None of these things, her anxiety-riddled brain pointed out, helped her train at all.
She didn’t even find Itachi doing this. Instead, Kakashi tapped her on the shoulder while she was sneaking into the ANBU breakroom after hours.
“Fantastically illegal activities you’re up to, my sweet ninja sibling,” he drawled.
Tori had basically jumped out of her skin, but she’d managed not to scream. God, Kakashi could hide his presence completely.
“I’m trying to find Itachi,” she said, voice strangled. Then she cocked her head to the side as she considered Kakashi. “Actually, maybe you can help instead. Got a few minutes for some mentoring?”
Kakashi was in full ANBU uniform, so she couldn’t see his face. He did lean back slightly, regarding her. She knew that, despite his posturing about calling Team 4 his “siblings,” Kakashi was pretty hit-or-miss about actually wanting to hang out with anyone at all. He liked privacy and was allergic to intimacy, and she had no idea if helping a genin out of the goodness of his heart was pushing it or not.
After a long, awkward silence, Kakashi finally said. “Alright. Give me twenty minutes to shower and change.”
He sent her to a nearby teahouse to meet and then didn’t show up for another forty-five minutes. The tea Tori ordered for them was lukewarm by the time he walked in.
“I became lost in thought in the shower,” he said dreamily.
“Gross,” Tori told him.
Kakashi blinked lethargically at her. “I did not imply that at all, my dirty-minded sibling.”
Tori cut to the chase, explaining her current mess of a situation to him. She was supposed to win a bunch of fights, act charming and cool while she did it, and on top of all that, she had to use a high-chakra fuuinjutsu technique she was unlikely to get comfortable with in the current timeframe.
“What… exactly… are you asking for advice on?” Kakashi asked when she was finished.
“You end up with chakra exhaustion a lot,” Tori said pointblank. “I guess I was wondering… I don’t know, how do you deal with not having enough chakra for your own techniques?”
“Hmm,” Kakashi said, drumming his fingers on the table between them. “You know, you’re right. Maybe being charming and ‘peppy’ is impossible for you. That was pretty mean.”
Tori kicked him under the table.
“I still don’t understand what you’re torn up about,” Kakashi said, his eye crinkling up in a teasing grin at her. “When I met you, you had no accessible chakra, and that didn’t slow you down at all. Why does the idea of spending it all on one technique upset you so much?”
“I guess…” Tori fidgeted with the cup in her hands. “If I just had to win a fight, that would be one thing. But I’m supposed to do a very specific thing, and I’ll only really get one shot at it.”
“Ah,” Kakashi said. There was a long pause. Then he said, “I am trying to think of a joke appropriate for a fourteen year old.”
“Gross!” Tori laughed.
“Maa,” Kakashi said. “Unfortunately I don’t think there’s a very good answer to your conundrum. If you screw up, you screw up. Any big technique is like that. If it helps, you’re at a normal part of any ninja’s journey.”
Tori wasn’t… she wasn’t a proper ninja, though. She felt like a pretender, a fake, a kid playing make believe. She had no idea how to communicate this to Kakashi without sounding completely insane.
“I think maybe,” Kakashi continued, leaning back in his seat, “you’re more anxious because it’s not your original technique, so you’re not as confident with it. You’re used to having done all the development and troubleshooting yourself, and the lack of control on that end is freaking you out.”
“...Huh,” Tori said. That… that definitely could be part of it.
“I’m not the person to ask about original techniques,” Kakashi drawled. “But I will say that the key to mastering someone else’s technique is to make it your own. You don’t have to use it exactly the way Kushina does. You have to figure out how to make it work with your style.”
“That’s actually really helpful,” Tori said with a weak smile. “Thanks, Kakashi.”
“Anytime,” Kakashi replied, and then disappeared into a puff of smoke, leaving her with the bill.
xXx
Tori felt slightly at peace for a few more days, spending time analyzing the jutsu scroll and cross-referencing pieces of it with her research materials. This seemed closer to who she actually was. It soothed her.
Then Deidara spiked her anxiety all over again by showing her a lease he’d signed. There was another line with an X next to it, for her to sign as well.
“I haven’t even seen the apartment,” Tori said, feeling hysterical. Why was everyone making all these insane decisions for her?!
“It’s cool, I promise,” Deidara said. “But we have to sign quick. The landlord only gave me a couple days to decide, yeah.”
Tori leafed through the lease furiously. The address was in a really nice neighborhood, the square footage was impressive, and the lease listed patio furniture among assets they’d be liable for, implying the existence of that outdoor space she wanted. Half the total rent would be a huge stretch even on a chunin salary, and she might not even get that.
“I’m willing to divide up rent proportional to our salaries, but I get the bigger bedroom,” Deidara said.
“Even if I stay a genin?” Tori snapped. She shoved the paper and the pen at him.
“You’re not going to stay a genin, yeah,” he replied, annoyed, and shoved it back at her.
“The average age of promotion is fifteen,” Tori said, her voice cracking embarrassingly. “Thirty percent of shinobi never even make chunin.”
Tori had less than a week to prepare before heading out. She felt like she needed months to practice as much as she wanted, and she didn’t have the time or energy to deal with this. And yet, she found herself skipping her training ground booking to take a tour of an apartment.
“Be quick,” the landlord said. “The current tenants only agreed to thirty minutes.”
The apartment was really nice. Nicer than she’d even ever considered an apartment could be, really. All three of the bedrooms and their own narrow balconies, not quite enough for furniture but enough for a potted plant and to step out onto in the morning, and there was a rooftop terrace.
“We could make this one an office,” Deidara said, gesturing at the smallest bedroom, which was the size of a very determined closet and currently done up as a baby room. The current tenants wanted an actual house for their growing family, apparently.
Deidara could easily afford a pretty nice apartment on a Jounin salary, even if he had zero savings to fall back on. Tori assumed his insistence on her rooming with him was the little income bump to get him something even better than “pretty nice.” He probably felt like he deserved it, after all those years as a feral forest child.
She certainly couldn’t afford anything approaching this good on her own. If she wanted anything bigger than her dorm room on her own, she’d have to either get incredibly lucky or look in one of the shittier outer neighborhoods, which was why she hadn’t done it.
When they were done with the tour, the landlord stared expectantly at them. Deidara cleared his throat and looked meaningfully at her.
Oh, so he’d gotten this last minute tour because he’d promised the landlord she’d sign.
Tori low-key felt like flipping them both off and stomping off. Her hand balled into a fist.
“The café on the corner is supposed to have the best coffee in Konoha, yeah,” Deidara said, eyes glinting.
“Fine,” Tori seethed. “I’ll sign.”
If she didn’t make chunin, her life really was going to turn into a shit show.
So long, take-out lunches, she thought as she signed her life away.
As they walked back to the dorms, Tori actually thought a little harder about what they’d just done. She’d never rented an apartment herself before, but Deidara had been working on moving out since he made chunin. She’d listened to a lot of rants about biases landlords had against younger ninja, even if they had high salaries. Usually ninja got charged high, multi-month deposits, to cover the landlord in case the renter should randomly die. It prevented younger ninja, who didn’t have savings, from renting higher-end places even if they could afford the monthly rent.
“There wasn’t anything in the lease about a deposit,” Tori said, confused. Was that a separate thing she’d also suddenly have shoved in front of her? “Or… key money?”
Deidara beamed at her. “I found a way around that! I just got a cosigner to cover us, yeah.”
“Cosigner…?” Tori repeated. “That wasn’t on the lease…”
“Yeah, usually that’d be in there and it wouldn’t get you out of a deposit,” Deidara agreed. “But turns out you can get away with anything with a letter from Hokage-sama, yeah!”
Tori stopped dead in her tracks. Oh good, now if she didn’t make chunin, the Hokage would know she couldn’t make rent.
“What?” Deidara said, putting his hand on his hip. “You wanted to read his note too? Tori, you're such a nerd–”
Tori resisted the urge to scream.
xXx
Itachi finally found her two days before she was set to leave. He found her setting up at the training ground she had booked for the morning.
“Both my mother and Kakashi-sempai said you were looking for me,” he said, eyeing the line of bamboo poles she set out in the packed dirt.
“Yeah,” Tori said, pointing accusingly at him. “You are impossible to find, asshole.”
“I apologize,” Itachi said, not sounding the least sorry. “I’ve been… increasingly uncomfortable at home, and have been taking longer missions.”
Tori squinted at him. She’d thought Danzo being gone would make his family situation better, not worse.
“Is something wrong?” she asked carefully.
Itachi, being an uncommunicative asshole, just shook his head. He didn’t look any more stressed than he usually did: he had killer bags under his eyes, but that was his normal state of being. His hair was recently washed and shiny, not gross from too much time on missions and not enough time with shower access. His body language was calm and lacked the weird twitchy movements he’d get when he was trying not to lose his shit on someone.
He was at least physically taking care of himself, then. She had no idea what went on in his messed up little brain, but Sasuke had seemed perfectly happy and sociable those days she’d clandestinely stalked him, which was a good predictor of Itachi’s anxiety levels.
“Did you want something from me?” Itachi prompted.
“Oh,” Tori said. “Kakashi ended up helping me out, actually.”
She briefly explained her current conundrum.
“Kiri?” Itachi asked, and Tori noted he brightened ever so much. This was basically the Itachi version of perking up like a dog hearing the treat bag rustle. It was almost cute.
“Yeah,” Tori said. “The other thing I wanted to ask was if you want me to tell you-know-who anything.”
“Hmm, no,” Itachi said, without the slightest hint of malice in his voice.
“Really?”
“If I had something to say,” Itachi said blandly, “I would simply send a crow.”
Tori’s lips thinned. Itachi was… not a very good friend, in her opinion. But it also wasn’t in her place to micromanage his friendship with Kisame.
“Perhaps you can ask how he’s doing,” Itachi said mildly. “I would like to know.”
That was… that was cute, actually.
“Sure,” Tori agreed.
Itachi next turned back to her bamboo poles.
“Is this for your mission?” he asked.
“Mm,” Tori said. “I’m making an overly complicated jutsu to look cool. Wanna help? I need someone to swing a sword at me.”
Itachi was happy to comply. He was, Tori abruptly remembered, a terrifying person to have swing a sword at you.
But she did get her jutsu working.
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I should probably preface this by saying that this is a genuine question, not an attempt to "own" anyone, not a troll, etc. I'm genuinely curious and interested: Has there been any good scientific studies done on the question "Does having a kink about a 'problematic' subject, reading about it, fantazising about it, roleplaying it, etc., make a person more or less likely to do that problematic thing in real life?" Do you know of any good research papers or articles on the subject? Maybe it's a whole field of study?
I feel like if I ever (god help me) would have to defend a position of "other people's kinks, no matter how disgusted they might make me feel personally, are none of my business" to someone, it would be useful to have some kind empirical science to point towards.
Again, I'm not trying to be a jerk saying "source, please?", I'm genuinely interested in reading about it.
So a good place to start here is in thinking about how this kind of topic gets data collected about it. So if you're wondering about the relationship between, for example, fantasizing about bestiality and actually abusing animals, your primary way of being able to study actual, real-world behavioral outcomes would be to identify a source of data on acts of bestiality...which would almost exclusively come from the police state. If you really wanted to study who actually does commit these acts and what their history was, you'd have to look at people who were convicted for having committed animal abuse of a sexual nature.
The problem is, that data isn't necessarily representative of what abuse actually occurs and how often. The police aren't trustworthy, the carceral justice system is profoundly unjust, not every person gets investigated or tried fairly, and even if all those systems DID operate justly and fairly, you'd still be missing all the people who never got caught. And we know that since these systems are racist, classist, ableist, etc, that they are not 'catching' real offenders from all groups equally. Poor & Black people who have committed these acts are most likely to get caught, rich & white ones least likely. And so the data is skewed.
This is FURTHER complicated by the fact that even if you do look at this data, you are only seeing the people who *have* harmed animals sexually, not the people that haven't, and so that is going to be susceptible to confirmation bias of your prior assumptions and not be representative of the whole population if you use it to draw conclusions. So, for instance, if you look at the porn habits of every person who has been convicted for bestiality, you will probably find a lot of bestiality porn (both fantasy and real) in their histories. Okay, not surprising... but of the average people watching this porn, how many actually go on to offend and how many don't? We have no way of knowing. And because such an activity is so stigmatized (and in the case of real porn, itself illegal), you're going to not be able to get self-report surveys from the general population on this.
If you did try to give out surveys on this kind of stuff, you might be forced to report any of your respondents who did admit to doing something illegal. It wouldn't really pass most ethics boards to do this research at all.
So you can see why this is such a shadowy field of discussion. The thing to keep in mind is that the number of people who do get arrested for things like bestiality, child sexual abuse (especially the kind that is driven by an attraction to children rather than your garden variety case of a parent abusing their power over their kids in multiple ways, including sexual, but the sex is incidental), etc are very small. These are vanishingly uncommon crimes. and we can't really trust the police state to give us reputable information on this. and it is very hard for scientists to study well, and most who study it do approach it in a pretty sensationalistic way.
So, to answer your question, yes you can hop onto google scholar and dig around for studies on 'paraphilias' and their relationship to criminal offenses, but most of it is going to be profiles of people locked in mental health institutions and jails that SOUNDS super scary and fucking disgusting but is not a good reflection of whatever the hell is going on in the actual world. I think it's evident that a hell of a lot more people are fantasizing about this stuff than are offenders. Especially if we are drawing a distinction between fantasy and porn that depicts actual abuse. The people drawing dogs fucking on like deviant art or whatever probably do not pose any actual threat to real animals 99.99% of the time.
And if and when a person with a desire to DOES harm animals, it is because of the legal construction of animals as property that it is possible for them to do so. once again power is the root of the crime. more than a 'paraphilia' making someone like, evil. a lot of this stuff is values based and a philosophical case about how the world works rather than a specific statistical claim. but the number of real offenses that happen are so vanishingly thin that we could barely empirically study them anyway -- it's too small a sample size, and there is no ability to locate comparison groups of non-offenders who share these kinks.
I hope this helps answer your question. Obviously I am using bestiality as one example here but you could apply this to CNC and rape porn, child abuse and age play porn, etc etc.
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