#and it was like ‘if you play cap youre probably very normal and boring But Like In A Mentally Stable Way’

[munchkin1156]

HADM 10- Gem

Hey hey hey this one is for the SPLATOON AU which I am DEFINITELY normal about!! Since I’m so normal about it, I didn’t write extra for today at all :D

As always, thank you to @hermitadaymay for organising this event! Please check out their fundraiser for Gamers Outreacher!

Word count: 1681

Tws: Shady deals, dehydration, making generally bad life choices

Enjoy!

. . .

Gem was in need of a bit of quick cash. Turf wars couldn't pay for her apartment forever, and she was getting a little bored of them lately. Best to wait a while for some different players to turn up and spice things up.

So, she was job hunting. It turned out there weren't actually many places that were hiring, and even less that were willing to take her. She didn't know why, it wasn't like she didn't have any qualifications. Sure, most of those involved taking out other people in turf wars, which she was damn good at, but apparently shops didn't need well trained security guards. Or something like that, anyway.

That was how she found herself, tired and annoyed after several hours of no success, wandering through some backwater shady alleyways with not a clue as to where she was. The streetlights hung low, random spatters of multicoloured ink mixed in with whatever gunk was laying visible on the ground. There was the hiss of steam released, the smell of something burning, the electricity sparking overhead. Not the best place to be, if she was being honest. Her sneakers kicked against the ground, like it was it's fault her day had been so bad. Her cap was pulled over her head, and Gem wished she was back in turf wars, because that was usually where she took her anger out on whatever poor team she was playing against.

Her hand ran long the wall as she walked, tracing over worn down posters for old concerts, splatfests, events… And one new one, advertising for something called JellieCo. Huh. What could that be? Frowning, Gem stopped, turning to view the information given on the poster, that was written in a ridiculously small font. From what she could make out, it read:

JELLIECO

Hey there! Are you in need of a job? Got some debts to pay, got some pockets to fill with some good old fish eggs? Well, I have just the thing for you! This is JellieCo, a 100% trustworthy company for all you inklings in need of a quick buck.

We deal in harvesting the beautiful golden fish eggs from the horrible salmonoids that live in the ocean, a place that any inkling with a brain knows is incredibly deadly, which of course makes these salmonoids incredibly dangerous as well. Don't you worry about that though! We make sure all our employees have the safest sort of gear, know the safety manual by heart, and always follow the rules! (99.99% percent of the time, anyway.) Nobody has died on the job yet to this day!

So, what are you waiting for? Head to the JELLIECO office in your area, and get yourself hooked up in a once in a lifetime opportunity! We'll be waiting with open arms!

-S

. . .

. .

.

…This was very clearly a sketchy gig. It was too enthusiastic, too fancy with words, and it used completely fake statistics. If Gem signed up for this, it would almost certainly go downhill from here. She shouldn't take it. She shouldn't take it, and keep hunting for a proper job instead. In the morning. When she wasn't in the mood to make bad decisions. Well, it wasn't such a bad decision, was it? It was a job, probably with someone in charge who'd want a professional turf wars gal. And she could always quit if she didn't like it. And she was just checking it out, it didn't mean she was going to take the job-

Without realising it, she'd already begun to walk to the location that had been given on the map that was on the back of the poster, which she'd taken from the wall in order to read the small writing more easily. The sky grew darker as she walked, the artificial lights flickering down on the two long tentacles that made up her hair. She took off her cap, feeling a little faint. That being said, she hadn't been in ink for several hours now. She might be drying up a little. She'd have to get to whatever JellieCo was quickly, and possibly ask if it was okay if there were any ink weapons she could borrow. It seemed like the type of place that would have that kind of thing.

After a few minutes, Gem reached the place the map had directed her to. The outside was definitely rundown, and looked to be in terrible condition, with faded paint and mess everywhere. The inside wasn't much better. There was a fishing sack tied to the ceiling, filled to the brim with golden fish eggs. That was the first thing Gem laid eyes upon, and it immediately set the vibe of the place. Greedy. Suspicious. Showing off wealth. Attracting hires.

There were also a couple screens, a red neon sign of a fish, some fans, some tv screens, a sewer grate entrance which Gem assumed was how you got to the location of the salmonoids, and a strange wooden carving of a cat with a fish in it's mouth, with the only indication of it being a radio the signal wire sticking out from it. No person in sight.

"Hello?" She asked, glancing around the room a bit more. The green exit sign glowed brightly and clearly, and she wondered why they would need to specify which way it was to leave. Kinda creepy, since this was such a small area. She considered following it back out, but the wooden cat-radio thing crackled, and a cheerful voice was heard over the speakers.

"Well, hello there! How may I help you?"

Gem stiffened at the loudness of the voice. Taking a final look around the room, just in case there was an actual person she could see and talk to. There wasn't, obviously. She responded to the unknown voice with hesitance. "Um. Yes. I'm here about a job…?" There was a few seconds of uncomfortable silence before the radio registered a response.

"Oh, but of course! Welcome to JellieCo! What's your name then, inkling?"

It was definitely weird that whoever was speaking knew she was an inkling, and not, say, an octoling, or a different sort of marine species. Lucky guess, maybe. Hopefully. Or those big screens over there also had a camera system rigged up to them. That was likely, but it still gave off a bad feeling. Unluckily, she was too annoyed from earlier to care.

Folding her arms, Gem stared at the cat-radio defiantly, for no reason in particular other than the fact that she was slightly uncomfortable and this odd form of communication certainly didn't help. "My name is Gem. Gemini Tay." She thought for a moment, before adding: "What's yours?" Another moment of silence went by. Gem tapped her hand on the table, fidgety and impatient. She was also starting to feel fainter. She'd need to refill on ink soon.

"Gemini Tay, you say? I believe I've heard of you. Won a lot of turf wars lately?"

Gem nodded, and smiled a little. She was allowed to be proud of her achievements, okay? It was only natural. She wondered if she should give a verbal response, since it was a radio, not a person, but she was almost certain that the person speaking with her could actually see her, despite that. And yes, after a couple seconds, the voice responded, which confirmed her suspicions.

"You're very good at it, I tell you. Very good skill with the splatling weapons. Anyway, you can call me Scar! I'm the head of JellieCo, and here to help new employees get the hang of the ropes! …That is, if you're looking to sign up."

She should say no. She should probably, no, definitely say no. But nothing bad had happened yet, and Scar seemed nice enough, and she was pretty sure it would be near impossible to find another job that wanted to have her this much. Besides, the turf wars had been boring as of late. It might be fun to try something new. Though, there were a few things she needed to know before she made her choice. "So, how much is the pay?"

There was a laugh from the radio. It was responding quicker now. It might've never been slow to begin with, and those slow pauses were intentional. That would be weird, though Gem wouldn't put it past the company to do so.

"Everything about the job can be found within the contract provided. Would you like to see it?"

Hesitantly, Gem nodded. There was a whirring noise, and a compartment to her left opened up. Inside, there was a paper with lots of normal contract, and an even larger amount of fine print, as well as a pen filled with ink. While she wasn't planning on signing the contract without even reading it, picking up the pen and feeling it change under her fingertips to her natural orange colour made her feel slightly less woozy. Maybe she'd keep holding onto it, for now.

The contract was long and confusing, but it very clearly stated the basics on how you got paid, and how it would increase the more you got past your quota for the golden fish eggs. It also very clearly stated that most of the training would be done on the job. The fine print was too small to read. This was a bad sign, but Gem had been ignoring bad signs all evening. What could be so wrong with ignoring one more?

It was also late. Maybe she should sleep over this. Instead of signing her life away while she wasn't in the right mindset for it. Maybe. Or, she could sign it, and be over and done with it, and wake up tomorrow knowing she had a job to go to, instead of more fruitless searching! So, she did the stupidest thing, which was doing the stupid things while knowing it was a stupid thing.

She signed the contract, the orange ink staining the page with a sizzle and a hiss.

This would go fine.

. . .

(Just a silly Gem doodle this time!)

Hopefully I’ll write another part for it at some time in the future!!! I am very much enjoying this, and Gem is going to enjoy meeting the other employees at JellieCo for some in the field training!

Taglist: @i-am-beckyu , @da3dm , @faeiyn-cant-write , @boiled-ginger-ale , @local-squishmallow , @akatthatwants2sleep , @vocal-nyx-cords

Taglist just for fics: @mushr00mgurl

See you tomorrow!

[wooliguns]

v. all the lights couldn’t put out the dark, running through my heart; lights up and they know who you are

Everything is back to normal.

The sun is ruthless, the sky cobalt-bright, the grass lush and wet with dew—and he and Xiao are back to their usual rhythm. Their familiar shenanigans resume without so much as a stutter: casual banter, shared routines, the subtle gravity of closeness. Venti couldn’t be more thrilled (if he’s being impartial.) Something’s disarmingly simple about how easy it’s been after everything that went down. Too easy, maybe. Though amused by it, he’s also just a bit peeved.

Because, of course, even the teasing is back.

Xiao laughs at him again when he stumbles going up the stairs, drops things into his open mouth when Venti so much as passes out snoring on the couch, and never forgets to chastise him about feeding Cecilia—even though that blasted goldfish was his idea to begin with.

Not that Venti minds. He’s fond of Cecilia. And maybe… maybe he doesn’t mind doing small things for Xiao either. Like taking care of his damn fish. Especially after he caught the guy throwing a blanket over him that morning he passed out on the couch, hungover and bone-tired. That had been… sweet. Annoyingly sweet.

It’s Friday now—the last day of the school week—and for whatever reason, P.E. got shuffled around on the schedule. As much as Venti would love to sneak into the music hall, bang the drums until Liben’s ears bleed, or goof off with Xingqiu and Chongyun (who have, admittedly, become very joined at the hip these days), he can’t. Sadly.

Liben’s got them out in the park, running around like preschoolers. Squats, jumping jacks, laps. Apparently, it’s “good for the soul,” to “shake the body,” to “reclaim the spirit,” or some other mystical bullshit Liben chanted like a gym guru.

As if Venti doesn’t get enough cardio carrying the tonnage of his coursework and existential dread every week. He’s said this before—hell, he’s screamed it into his pillow before—but Physical Education shouldn’t even be a thing in a music degree. Still, if this is what it takes to graduate, then fine. He’ll jump. He’ll jack. He’ll run himself breathless for the dream: either music therapy or a singer-songwriter career, if he finds the guts to believe in himself long enough.

Mid-jog, something buzzes persistently against his hip—his phone, tucked safely in the band of his joggers. He groans, knowing exactly who it is. But he pushes through to finish his lap before staggering over to a bench and collapsing like a fallen leaf.

“Hu Tao!” he wheezes, waving a hand at her crumpled figure sprawled in the grass.

“Oi! Nani?” she yells back, breathless but still impish.

He gestures wildly at the water bottle in her hand. “Can I?”

With a groan, she jogs over and chucks it at his chest. “Freeloader,” she grins.

“Thanks,” he pants, unscrewing the cap and downing a heroic gulp. Then, wiping his mouth with his palm, he digs out his phone.

[from: scaramouche 🛹😆🧢]

scaramouche: hi crush 😘 scaramouche: it’s me ❤️ your future husband venti: scaramouche 😑 what do u need? scaramouche: if i said you? 😆 will u hand yourself over?? HAHAHA venti: shut up! u don’t like me !!! 😭 stop messing with me !!!

Ever since they ran into each other at the grocery and Scaramouche wrangled his number, the guy’s been relentless. Constant texts. Random musings. Daily declarations of boredom. Or love. Or both. He flirts like it’s his part-time job.

Venti’s not buying it, of course. Not seriously. But he plays along sometimes. It’s kind of funny.

scaramouche: VENTI 🥺 venti: . scaramouche: help me venti: what is it now 😒 scaramouche: I’M BORED IN CLASS 😭 venti: bye scaramouche 👋🏻💀 scaramouche: rude ☹️

There’s no way Scaramouche has a real crush on him, right? He’s probably bluffing. Venti doesn’t take it seriously. But he doesn’t mind it either.

scaramouche: venti, will you teach me venti: teach u what exactly? :o scaramouche: how to… venti: how? scaramouche: how to be so cute 😆💗😉 venti: DFHFDGDSDS BYE

Scaramouche is a friend. Just a friend. And that’s how it’s going to stay.

…Though, if Venti were being totally honest, if he hadn’t been hung up on someone else, perhaps—just perhaps—he might’ve entertained the idea. Probably.

He stares at the water bottle in his hand, fingers clenching as his thoughts meander away from Scaramouche—quietly, inevitably—back to him.

Back to Xiao.

Will he ever get over him?

His gaze flits back to his phone. He pulls up his conversation with Xiao, scrolling down to the messages from four days ago. His thumb hovers over the screen, lip caught between his teeth as he rereads the string of texts Xiao sent him during that quiet fallout. A haze resolves in his mind—the way he ignored every call, every attempt at contact. How he’d hooked his phone aside like it burned just to keep himself from spiraling further, just to stop crying at the sight of Xiao’s name lighting up his screen. Pleading messages. Please come home.

Home. Does Xiao see him that way, too? Because that’s what Xiao is to him… Always has been.

That night, when a message from Scaramouche came through, Venti had braced himself for teasing or more one-sided flirtation as he was tired as hell and was just in a fight with Xiao. He’d even taken a breath, trying to steel his nerves. But instead… it was a soft offer. Atoning. I can come get you.

And it confused him—until it clicked. Of course. Xiao must have contacted Scaramouche. Because Xiao does that, doesn’t he? He’d reach out to someone, anyone, to make sure Venti wasn’t alone. Of course, he had. That watchful gaze. That subtle concern, even when he had no right to interfere. How stupidly thoughtful.

But Venti couldn’t bring himself to see either of them that night. Not Xiao, not Scaramouche. And yet—let’s be honest—he wouldn’t have gone with Scaramouche even if it meant sleeping on a street bench.

Because Venti… loves Xiao.

Running to Scaramouche, who barely knew him, who’d confessed he liked him a few hours prior—a boy, yes, because Venti is only ever drawn to boys—still felt wrong. Dishonest. Because his heart was already taken. It existed for someone else. Even if that someone didn’t know it. Even if that someone didn’t return it.

Venti’s heart already belonged to Xiao.

He’s always been this way. Loyal to a fault. Pathetically so. And sure, he’d considered Scaramouche was just being kind—but even then, Venti couldn’t shake the feeling that meeting him that night would be a betrayal. Cheating, really. Never mind the fact that he and Xiao weren’t even together. Never had been.

Yet, it would’ve felt like cheating.

He had choked out a laugh through tears at that realization, curled in on himself on the floor of a random alley like he was the protagonist of a melodrama. So instead, he texted Xiangling, asked her to ignore any calls from Xiao if they came through, and crashed at her place. It was the safest bet. The only plan that felt… right.

“Barbatos! You coming or what?!”

Hu Tao’s voice cuts through the air, dragging him back to the present. Venti looks up, squinting against the sunlight, and catches her standing near the shaded side of the facility. She’s already with the rest of the group, all gathered and making their way back up the stairs. P.E. is over. Thank the gods.

Venti sighs, grabs his phone, and the bottle of water still in his other hand. Now that he’s moving, he can totally feel it—the sun soaking into his scalp, his sweat-damp shirt clinging to his back, the heat blooming across his cheeks.

He fakes a dramatic sob, “Ugh, I’m melting,” and bolts up from the bench. “Be right there!” he calls, wincing at the sheer aggression of the sun overhead.

He jogs toward the group and bumps shoulders with Hu Tao the very minute he reaches her. She retaliates with a sharp smack to his butt that makes him yelp, his eyes widening like saucers.

She grins at him, mischievous and starry-eyed. “Cute,” she coos.

Venti rolls his eyes, but his grin stays—light, untethered, sincere. And just like that, everything heart-rending he was mulling over fades into the background. Not gone, but softened for now. Only for this passing moment, he lets himself feel light.

**

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Venti blinks at Xingqiu, who’s just snapped his book shut and risen from his chair. They’re in Philosophy, their shared class—Venti already changed back into his day clothes after shedding his sweat-soaked P.E. uniform, still smelling faintly of grass stains and bad life choices. The class is nearly over, just a few minutes left before dismissal, and he has an hour to kill before his next lecture—music, thankfully. Something that doesn’t entail body cramps or mud.

“Someone’s yelling,” Xingqiu replies, flopping back into his seat with a frown. “Sounds like a fight. Should we check it out?”

Venti glances around the room—he’s not the only one curious. Heads are already turned toward the hallway. Murmurs buzz low. Even with the professor absent, no one’s left. Maybe they’re all wondering the same thing: who’s screaming, and why?

“Let’s go,” he says simply.

They’re up on their feet and weaving through the desks in seconds, heading for the door. A few classmates follow suit, and Venti suddenly wonders what the hell is happening upstairs. It does sound like a fight.

They jog toward the stairwell, Xingqiu tugging on Venti’s hood to slow him down.

Venti turns, raising a brow. “Seriously?”

Xingqiu shrugs sheepishly. Venti sighs, grabs his hand instead, and pulls him along.

By the time they reach the second floor, it’s chaos. Voices rising, students clustering. Curious heads poking out of classrooms. Some are recording on their phones—because, of course, they are. Venti slips past the crowd, instinct pulling him faster.

That’s when he sees it: Ganyu.

Oh no.

Her powder-blue hair is unambiguous, even in a sea of students. She’s standing in the center of the commotion, shoving Keqing hard in the chest.

“You liar!” she screams, tear-streaked and livid. “I hate you!”

“Ganyu—!” Venti bolts forward, breaking through the circle of onlookers. He barely registers Xingqiu behind him.

He moves fast, eyes gliding to Mona—who looks like she’s about to hyperventilate—and then back to Ganyu, trembling and flushed and sobbing. Keqing’s head is bowed, arms slack, like she’s given up trying to defend herself.

“I’m so sorry, Yuyu,” Keqing utters quietly, voice cracking with something like shame. “I didn’t mean—”

“Ganyu,” Venti calls gently, stepping between them, catching her wrist. Her whole body’s shaking. “Hey. Hey, what’s going on? What did she do?”

But Ganyu doesn’t answer. She lets herself be pulled back, huffing erratically. Then, suddenly, she wrenches free from his hold and lunges again—this time toward Mona, who’s strayed beside Keqing, close. Too close.

Ah. So that’s it.

Jealousy. Heartbreak. Maybe deception. And oh gods, Venti realizes, she’s worse than me when it comes to this kind of thing.

“Ganyu—!”

She stops mid-step. Freezes.

So does Venti.

Because that voice—that straightforward voice—is one they both know too well.

Students part like a tide, and there he is. Xiao.

Striding forward like he owns the place, brotherly fury written all over his face. And, damn—did he really have to look that devastating right now? Venti’s heart stumbles against his ribs. This is bad.

“G-gege?” Ganyu’s voice teeters. She looks wrecked. Red-rimmed eyes. Mottled cheeks. Her hands balling into fists, like she doesn’t know whether to run or crumble.

Keqing and Mona both look up. Xiao’s gaze cuts through them. Like a blade. Mona’s facial expression twists into a soundless help me as she locks eyes with Venti, all while Keqing visibly pales.

Venti acts fast. Pulls his phone out and dials. It rings once.

“Oh, so now you’re calling me,” Scaramouche’s voice bites in his ear. “After leaving me on read? Classic.”

“Scaramouche,” Venti rumbles quickly, trying to keep his voice low, “this is an emergency.”

In his peripheral vision, Xiao is now holding Ganyu’s hand, checking her over, exchanging inaudible words. Venti sees Ganyu nodding, gesturing, and then Xiao turns—slowly—his golden gaze hardening as it lands on Keqing. Then Mona.

Shit. Time’s up.

“I need you to get here. Right now,” Venti says. “Fourth floor. South Wing. Please.”

“Wait—what? Why?”

“We need your help.” Venti hesitates, sighs. “Well… Mona needs your help.”

“My help? Her?” Scaramouche’s voice is laced with disbelief—utterly affronted. “Why the hell would I lift a finger for that hag?”

Venti winces. Fair point. Mona had ghosted him the last time he offered her a ride home.

“Just—please. For me?” He cringes at the words even as they leave his mouth, but there’s no time to be proud.

There’s a beat of silence. Then a dramatic sigh.

“Fine. Anything for you.” Click. The call ends.

Venti exhales hard, tucking his phone into the front pocket of his overalls.

Time to fix this mess.

He dives back into the crowd, weaving through the ocean of bodies toward Mona and Keqing, who are both clearly fraying. Keqing looks demolished, mascara smudged, and mouth drawn tight. Mona’s fidgeting like she’s seconds from a breakdown. Around them, the murmuring crowd grows by the second.

“Let’s move,” Venti urges, low and dire. “People are watching—and not going anywhere.”

Keqing nods mutely. Mona swallows. And together, they slip out of the spotlight.

Once they find a quieter spot near the lockers, Mona lets out a long breath and leans against the wall.

“I need air,” she mutters, eyes distant. Keqing stays close but says nothing, arms crossed over her chest, supposing she’s trying to hold herself together.

“I’m sorry,” Keqing murmurs after a while, her voice nearly drowned out by the hallway noise. “Mona, I… I really am.”

Mona waves a hand, brushing her off. “It’s fine. We tried.”

“We did,” Keqing echoes, shoulders sagging.

Venti glances between the two. “Sorry if I’m overstepping, but… what exactly happened? Why did Ganyu blow up like that?”

He usually isn’t one to meddle (he’ll break up a fight, sure), but he doesn’t dig into drama unless it walks up and punches him in the face. Or screams in the hallway. Either works.

Keqing looks at Mona. Permission.

Mona sighs and steps up. “We used to sleep together,” she discloses bluntly.

Venti blinks. Oh.

So Ganyu was right. That explains it.

“It was a long time ago,” Mona continues. “Before she even enrolled here. Back when I met Keqing off-campus.”

“I transferred for her,” Keqing admits, and her cadence is stripped bare. “That was then, though. We’d already ended it. On good terms.”

“We agreed to move on,” Mona affirms, arms folding tighter. “We both had our reasons.”

“And then she met Ganyu,” Venti says, finishing the thought, piecing it all together.

Keqing sighs, wistful and pained. “She’s amazing, Venti. Kind and perfect. Patient. Thoughtful. I just…” She trails off, then refocuses. “We came today to tell her the truth. To be honest about our past. That’s it.”

“And you left out the part where you tried to kiss me?” Mona snaps, arms now securely crossed. “What the hell was that, Keqing?”

Keqing looks horrified. “I didn’t— I was just—”

“Ganyu saw it,” Venti cuts in gently. “We were there. She and I saw you both at the restaurant.”

Keqing’s face drains of color. “What… what did she see exactly?”

“You walked up to Mona… and tried to kiss her.”

“Fuck,” Mona groans, dragging her hands down her face. “No wonder. I thought she’d handle it better. I mean, she’s always been so chill.”

“Yeah,” Venti agrees, sighing. “I thought so too. She cried, but she composed herself. Guess she just masked it really well.”

Keqing leans against the locker behind her, head low. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just… thought we had more time to explain.”

“I’m sorry for what happened today,” Venti offers softly. “Ganyu must’ve just snapped. She’s not usually like that.”

“No,” Keqing murmurs, brushing her hair behind her ear. “She’s not. I’ll talk to her. I need to.”

“Please do,” Mona says, voice quieter now. “We screwed up. And I never wanted her to get caught in the crossfire.”

“I can talk to her, maybe,” Venti proposes, landing a hand on Mona’s shoulder with assurance. “I’ll do what I can.”

Mona nods, grateful, and Keqing gives him a look—wide-eyed, reverent—that tells him how much she appreciates it too. Even though Venti hardly knows her (okay, doesn’t know her at all), aside from what he’s picked up through Ganyu, Mona, and now this whole ordeal… he can tell. He can see it. Keqing is in love with Ganyu. And perhaps that’s what makes all the difference. She’s trying. Earnestly.

And suddenly, Venti understands something else: Keqing didn’t technically owe Ganyu the truth. They weren’t dating, they hadn’t made anything official. But Ganyu isn’t just anyone. That’s right. You don’t get to stumble into someone like her and treat her like an option. She’s rare. One of a kind. A forbearing rarity that’s so easy to love, you almost don’t realize it’s already happening.

And judging by the way Keqing is pacing, frazzled and fidgeting, patently coming undone at the seams—she knows that now. Same with Mona, who’s chewing her thumbnail, sighing every three seconds like it’s on a timer.

Then Venti’s phone buzzes against his chest. He fishes it out, frowning at the screen.

Oh—Scaramouche. Crap. He totally forgot he called him.

“Hey—Scara, sorry,” he rushes to say, accepting the call. “False alarm. We’ve got it handled.”

“Seriously?” Scaramouche sounds unimpressed. “Where are you?”

“Second floor. Near the lockers.”

“Cool. I’m close.”

Venti ends the call and turns toward Mona, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “Sooo, quick heads up…”

She arches a brow. “Yeah?”

“I, um, might’ve called someone earlier. When things got… y’know. Dramatic.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Thought you might want an out.”

“Okay…” Mona narrows her eyes. “Who exactly?”

“You remember Scaramouche?”

“Scara… what now—”

“Me,” comes a lazy drawl behind them.

Mona spins around and freezes at the sight of him approaching. Her bearing curdles.

“Oh fuck no,” she says flatly.

Keqing blinks beside her, visibly trying to piece together the dynamic.

Scaramouche doesn’t miss a beat. He juts a thumb in Mona’s direction, looking at Venti with a deadpan expression. “See? This is why I delayed. She’s an ungrateful ha—”

“Finish that word and I will end you,” Mona snaps, face tight, tone lethal.

Scaramouche ostensibly flinches, rolling his eyes but smart enough to shut up. Venti snorts into his fist, trying not to laugh.

“A-anyway!” he pipes up, clapping his hands together. “Crisis averted. Thought we could maybe… chill outside? Sun’s out, we’ve survived emotional warfare, seems fair.”

Scaramouche kicks at the floor. “Sure. I’m already here.”

Mona hums, glancing sideways. “Fine. I could use a smoke.”

Scaramouche perks up. “Wait, you brought some? The nearest convenience store’s like five blocks—”

“No need.” Mona pats her bag with a smug smirk. “I’m always prepared. Let’s go.”

She starts striding toward the exit, Scaramouche following with a low grumble. Keqing dithers, lost in thought, gaze vacant. Poor girl—she’s got a lot to figure out still.

“You guys go ahead!” Venti calls out, jogging in the other direction. “Gotta grab my stuff—I’ll catch up!”

“Don’t flake on us!” Scaramouche calls back.

“I won’t!”

**

He returns to the classroom on the third floor to grab his things, then heads out—but instead of going straight to the school gates, he finds himself ambling toward the fourth floor. He’s pretty sure Ganyu and Xiao are still up there. He just… wants to check in, see if things have calmed down—for Ganyu’s sake, at least.

Not that he’s trying to be some peacemaker. That’s more Ganyu’s brand than his. But today? She’s the one who needed someone. And well, he’s been there since the start of this entire mess. First to know. Now Xiao’s involved, and—ugh. Venti winces at the memory of Xiao’s guise when he saw Mona earlier, all cold fury and judgment stropped into a look.

Venti glances down at his buzzing phone.

[from: scaramouche 🛹😆🧢]

scaramouche: jeez venti your friend is ever so feisty, aint she smh venti: what why? :0 thought u guys were getting along scaramouche: i thought so too, but she’s really trying to kill me 😭😭 venti: im sorry, but pls take care of her for now? 😐 scaramouche: of course. anything for you, venti 😘

Venti snorts, shaking his head. This guy.

He switches to his chat with Xiao and fires off a quick text.

venti: xiao? where are u? xiao: 4th floor, ganyu’s classroom venti: okay! im omw

He jogs up the stairwell, careful not to trip—again. When he reaches Ganyu’s classroom, he slows, hovering by the door.

There they are. Xiao and Ganyu, seated across from one another with a desk between them. She looks like she’s pulled herself together. No more tears. And Xiao… Xiao looks calm, posture easy, one hand outstretched across the desk as if trying to keep a fragile connection steady.

Venti’s eyes sweep the room. A few students here and there, but no one’s gawking at them like they’re a live drama. That’s a relief.

And then he hears Xiao’s voice—low and curt. “Great. You’re here. Explain.”

He’s already tapping the empty chair beside him.

Venti flinches at the insipid tone, but obeys anyway, slumping beside Xiao and dropping his bag by their feet. “So… Ganyu hasn’t told you yet, I take it?”

Xiao raises an eyebrow. Ganyu, meanwhile, suddenly becomes very interested in anything not eye contact.

Venti sighs, scratching his nape. Right. It’s on him, then.

So he walks Xiao through the entire thing—what happened at the mall, the aftermath, the reason for the fight today, and the explanation behind Keqing showing up with Mona.

Ganyu gasps, eyes going round. “She said that?”

“She did,” Venti confirms. “Said you’re perfect, kind, thoughtful. That she’d do whatever it takes for you to forgive her.”

“Hmph. Might’ve jumped the gun a little, Yu,” Xiao mutters, resting his chin on his palm.

Venti side-eyes him, a bit surprised by how mellow he sounds. He expected… anger. Disapproval. But instead, Xiao seems reflective, if not slightly amused.

Ganyu, on the other hand, is wringing her hands. “I did, didn’t I? But—where is she now? Keqing?”

“They’re outside,” Venti replies. “Mona and Scaramouche stepped out for a smoke.”

Ganyu grimaces. “Scaramouche is there?”

“Long story,” Venti mutters.

She sighs, then turns to Xiao, voice soft. “Gege… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just… I thought you’d be mad.”

Xiao blinks at her. “Mad? About what?”

“You know… for sleeping with someone I wasn’t in a relationship with.” She fidgets. “I thought you’d… judge me for it.”

Xiao hums. He doesn’t speak right away, which makes the stillness stretch taut. Venti and Ganyu exchange a glance, waiting.

Then Xiao leans back, tone even. “That’s not my place. As long as you’re both consenting and understand what you’re getting into, then that’s your business. You’re not a kid anymore, Yu. I trust you to handle things your way.”

“I do,” Ganyu insists. “I know how. I promise.”

Xiao nods. “Good. That’s all I needed to hear.”

Venti blows a breath, tension easing. “Well, guess that means all that’s left is to fix things with Keqing. Talk it out. Kiss and make up.” He grins.

Ganyu chuckles faintly, looking down at her hands. “Yeah…”

Venti reaches over to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “You got this. Keqing’s gone head over heels. I think you’ll win this one easy.”

At that, Ganyu breaks into an arrant smile—bright and earnest, just the way Venti likes seeing her.

“You’re right,” she says, nodding enthusiastically. “I wouldn’t have made a scene like that if I didn’t love her back.”

“Exactly,” Venti chirps, winking. “Drama only hits that hard when love’s involved.”

“But still,” Xiao interjects, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes with a sigh, “you two… chose to keep this from me.”

Uh-oh.

“Eh—ge, I’m sorry,” Ganyu blurts out, guilt thick in her voice. Beside her, Venti can feel his palms going clammy.

“Xiao…” Venti murmurs.

Xiao opens his eyes and fixes them on him. “Next time, just let me know. I was worried sick, Venti. I thought Ganyu got into some real trouble.”

“Well, I did get into a fight,” Ganyu mumbles under her breath, not helping her case at all, earning her a subtle head shake from her brother, who pinches the bridge of his nose like he���s trying to keep it together.

Venti watches them with a smile. It’s always like this between them—their own flow, their little bubble. It’s something he’s grown used to. Something he finds himself admiring, that kind of unconditional bond. It’s honest. Beautiful. Domestic.

It makes him wonder, sometimes, what it might’ve been like to have a sibling of his own. Someone to protect. Someone to tease, baby, and spoil into oblivion. He already knows—he’d be insufferably doting. Just like Xiao, who’d walk through fire for his sisters, no questions asked.

His thoughts are cut short when his phone starts buzzing in his hand. He flips it over—and nearly snorts at the little stickman on a skateboard he doodled in a half-asleep daze, now proudly serving as Scaramouche’s contact photo.

He answers. “Hey, sorry I’m late.”

“You are,” comes Scaramouche’s grousing, “but it’s you, so I’m letting it slide. Barely. Anyway, we’re already on stick number three out here. You better show up before I reach existential crisis.”

Venti can hear Mona and Keqing talking in the background. He gets to his feet. “On my way now,” he promises, ending the call. He turns back to Xiao and Ganyu. “I’m heading out. Scaramouche and the girls are waiting by the gate. I told them I’d catch up.”

“That was Scaramouche just now?” Xiao asks casually, though there’s an undercurrent in his tone. Something a little too measured. Venti feels his skin prickle with it.

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” Xiao’s eyes narrow, just a bit. “So… getting close to him now?”

Venti blinks. “Kind of? I guess? He won’t stop texting me, actually.” He rolls his eyes, sighing. “It’s nonstop. Teasing, flirting—he’s determined.”

Xiao studies him for a long, drawn-out moment. Then he nods once and deviates. “I see.”

That… was weird. Venti’s not sure what he expected, but the vague tension now dawdling between them wasn’t it.

“Anyway—!” he trills, dusting off imaginary lint from his sleeves. “I’m off! Ganyu, good luck with Keqing. I hope you two get to talk soon. I’ll see you both later!”

He waves and bolts out of the classroom, making his way toward the school gates where Scaramouche, Mona, and Keqing are waiting.

**

Hanging out with Scaramouche, Mona, and Keqing surprisingly did more for Venti’s mood than he anticipated. For one, watching Scaramouche and Mona trade sarcastic jabs was pure gold. Despite their barbs, it was clear they were slowly warming up to each other. Emphasis on slowly.

“Come to my party this weekend. Tomorrow night,” Scaramouche says, lounging on the curb like he owns it. “Venti and Keqing will be there, right?” He doesn’t even give Keqing a chance to answer—her brows are already knitting in quiet protest—before adding with a sly grin, “Xiao and his sister too, probably. We’re all bound to get a little tipsy and clingy. Gotta keep an eye on our beaus.”

“Beaus?” Venti echoes, incredulous. Is he implying what he thinks he’s implying?

Scaramouche throws him a wink, shameless and smug. Venti flushes, a little too warm all of a sudden. So yes, that’s exactly what he meant. How much does this guy know, anyway?

“So, Mona?” Scaramouche averts his attention, where she’s crouched with her elbows propped on her knees, cigarette loosely dangling between her fingers.

Mona takes a final drag, the embers crawling to the filter before she flicks it away. “Whatever. Yeah, fine. I could use a drink. This week’s been hell.”

“Weekly ritual?” Scaramouche smirks.

Mona straightens, dusts her skirt, and shoots him a look. “I don’t need a reason to drink, but I’ve got plenty anyway. …But you’re driving me home,” she adds, planting a hand on her hip. “Because in case it isn’t obvious, I’m broke as shit. And don’t expect me to bring booze either. Again: broke.”

Scaramouche waves a hand. “No worries. I’ve got my own stash.”

“Oh! That’s good,” Venti cuts in with a chuckle, raising his hand like a guilty co-conspirator. “Because, uh, I’m also broke. Like, Mona-level broke.”

Scaramouche gasps theatrically, placing a hand to his chest. “My poor, pitiful children. Whatever would you do without your benevolent father?”

“I can bring drinks,” Keqing pipes up, trying not to sound too smug. “I’m… not broke.”

Venti eyes her slim Rolex and that delicate gold necklace and resists the urge to whistle. Yeah, she’s definitely not broke.

“Yeah, we noticed,” Scaramouche and Mona say in sync, deadpan.

Keqing turns a very elegant shade of pink and scoffs, turning her back on them. Venti grins, thoroughly entertained by the group’s stir.

Eventually, Keqing excuses herself to make it to her next class. Mona announces she’s off to Angel’s Share to “nurse her nerves,” which makes Venti wonder for the tenth time if Mona ever actually attends class. Scaramouche offers to walk Venti back inside, though they part ways at the lockers—he’s already fifteen minutes late for his next class, and Venti wants to drop off his stuff before heading to the music hall for some saxophone practice.

He’s been obsessing over it lately. After mastering the ukulele (or so he claims), the sax is his latest conquest. He’s ditched carrying Diaochan to school altogether, letting her rest for now. It just makes traveling lighter. Besides, he’s got a new fixation to feed.

With his bag stashed and only his phone, keys, and wallet on hand, Venti sets off toward the music hall, sauntering leisurely through the quad and into the quieter wings of campus. It’s free time for him now, and he plans to use every second of it for uninterrupted, messy, soul-healing practice.

He strolls past Freedom Park, spotting a few scattered students, most of whom he only vaguely recognizes. He ascends the steps to the mezzanine—then halts.

A girl with sun-kissed blonde hair tied back by a pale blue ribbon stands near the hallway. He recalls those shoes. Those eyes.

“Lumine?” he asks, blinking in surprise.

She turns, golden-brown eyes lighting up the moment she sees him. “Venti!”

They meet halfway on the staircase and exchange a quick hug.

“Wow! Long time no see. What brings you here?” he asks. Her department is a fifteen-minute walk from the music hall. He’s used to running into Aether around here, sure—he’s Xiao’s friend, after all—but Lumine?

“Oh, I was actually looking for you,” she says, laughing a bit. “So glad I found you right away.”

“Wait—you were looking for me?”

She nods. “We might’ve, uh, checked your other classes too…”

“We?”

As if on cue, she glances behind Venti. He instinctively turns—but no one’s there.

“It’s my brother,” Lumine explains with a tiny sigh. “Aether, it’s okay! It’s just me and Venti!”

No more than a few seconds later, Aether peeks out from behind a post, looking like a guilty cat caught red-pawed. He rubs the back of his neck shyly. “Hey, Venti,” he greets, soft and tentative, stepping into view beside Lumine.

“So, um—my brother and I are actually both coming to the party,” Lumine imparts, tone light, like she’s setting something up. “We just heard about it from Kazuha…”

Venti hums, head tilting. “But I heard Kazuha can’t make it, right?”

“Right,” Aether confirms, looking a tad deflated.

“Mm-hmm,” Venti nods, waiting, brows raised. “Go on.”

“And… well, my brother here wants to invite a certain someone,” Lumine continues with a small, knowing smile. “It’s just that—”

“I’m too much of a coward to ask them myself,” Aether finishes, folding his arms and looking everywhere but at Venti.

“Oh.” Venti blinks, still piecing it together. Then—click.

“You’re… friends with Albedo, right?” Lumine quips, batting her lashes oh-so-innocently.

Venti’s eyes light up, lips curling into a sly grin. “I am,” he croons, drawing out the words, amusement dancing in his voice.

Lumine throws an arm over Aether’s shoulder, grinning like the schemer she is. “Well, my timid, hopelessly-in-love brother here was hoping you could invite him. You know… so they can finally talk. Or, like, breathe in the same general vicinity.”

Venti clutches his chest. “Oh, the honor is mine~ I gotchu, no worries~”

“There! Not so hard now, was it?” Lumine teases, releasing Aether with a clap of her hands. “Told you Venti’s the go-to guy! He knows everyone on campus. And not just that. He’s friends with them, too.”

“Err—not everyone,” Venti mumbles, scratching his cheek with a chuckle.

“Psh, close enough,” Lumine dismisses with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, you’re coming to the party as well, right? Amber and I better see you there.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Venti assures her with a grin. His heart always aleviates at the mention of Lumine and Amber—campus legends at this point, the golden couple. Five years strong, never a thorough fallout, never a major fight. Sure, they bicker now and then, but that’s just seasoning. Venti swears, if relationship goals had a mascot, it’d be those two.

He turns to Aether with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “And you! I didn’t know you were crushing on Albedo!” He guffaws. “Scandalous!”

“Shhh! Keep your voice down!” Aether hisses, reaching out like he’s trying to physically smother Venti’s words from the air. His ears and cheeks are flaming red—he looks dangerously close to combusting on the spot.

Venti doubles over laughing. “Relax! No one’s around to hear—and Albedo’s probably off sketching a beetle or something philosophical like that. But this is fantastic news! You like my friend!” (And he definitely likes you back, Venti thinks smugly, but keeps it to himself. Let the tension cook.)

“I’ll talk to him,” Venti declares. “He’s not much for parties, but I’ll drag him there if I have to. Though, knowing you’ll be there? That might just do the trick.”

“Okay, thank you, Venti—” Aether starts, but Venti cuts him off.

“So you two can smooch!” he sings, making exaggerated kissy noises and miming a dramatic embrace with invisible arms.

Lumine snorts, nearly doubling over in laughter herself, while Aether looks about ready to file a restraining order.

Venti’s grinning so hard his face hurts. He does feel a little bad, after all, Aether is genuinely one of the nicest people he knows, but teasing is practically Venti’s love language. No one is exempt. Not even golden boy Aether and his sunshine soul.

After his snack detour with the twins, Venti still managed to drop by the music hall, despite his now-crunched free time, to squeeze in that saxophone practice he’d promised himself. And honestly? It was worth it.

The sax isn’t exactly his best instrument, his breath control still wobbles, and he doesn’t always hit the cleanest notes, but it’s soothing in its own way. It possesses a richness and temperateness that other instruments don’t have. A morsel of thickness, a modicum of smoothness. He likes it. He does.

Jazz isn’t his thing, not at all. He’s more into pop and country ballads, things with a catchy hook and a good emotional payoff. But still—Venti finds himself picturing scenes: him, dressed to the nines in a fancy blazer, playing in some velvet-curtained jazz bar, lifting a wine glass with a curled pinky like some bougie 18th-century aristocrat.

He giggles to himself. Okay, calm down, Barbatos.

A few minutes later, he’s tapping the end of his pen against his desk in class, not really listening to the professor’s closing remarks. His mind’s somewhere else entirely.

He pulls out his phone and shoots Albedo a text. meet u @ the tree? 🌳

albaedo: Sure.

The sun is starting to dip below the buildings when Venti reaches the tree first. Freedom Park is gradually emptying, students pouring out of lecture halls, the stunted, resplendent sunset spreading penumbras across the grass. Venti checks his watch, then looks up, and there he is.

Albedo approaches at an even pace, every bit the composed picture he always is. White sweater tucked neatly into navy shorts, black loafers burnished against the stone path, leather bag over one shoulder, and his hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. Glasses perched on his nose. An actual walking aesthetic.

Venti grins and waves. Albedo raises a hand in return, more subdued but manifestly his trademark of friendliness.

“Hi,” Venti greets.

“Hi,” Albedo replies, a gentle smile curving on his lips.

“So, guess what,” Venti opens, fluttering his lashes for effect.

“I’m not very good at guessing,” Albedo responds unequivocally.

“Pffft. Not good at guessing, my foot! Aren’t you supposed to be, like, a certified genius?”

“Context helps,” Albedo inputs.

“It’s about the party this weekend!” Venti chirrs.

“I’m not going,” Albedo relays immediately, as if reading from a script.

Venti pouts at that. “Ugh, you’re no fun.”

Albedo purely shrugs, deadpan. No rebuttal. Quintessential.

But Venti is ready. He arches a brow, lips curling mischievously. “Well, that’s too bad. I guess it’ll just be me, Aether, and—”

“I beg your pardon?”

Oh-ho. Venti’s unable to keep his enthusiasm in check. “Aether. You know, Lumine’s twin. Cute boy. Blonde. Sweet smile? We ran into each other earlier and he told me he’s going to the party.”

The effect is instant. Albedo’s composure cracks—solely a fraction—but enough. He steps forward, grabs Venti’s arms with adventitious obstinacy, and pulls him close.

Venti yelps, startled, and blinks up into Albedo’s eyes just as the other boy leans in. Oh my gods, is he—

But Albedo’s lips press against Venti’s forehead. Just that. A light kiss. A soft, sincere brush. “Thank you, Venti,” he murmurs. “I’ll be there.”

And just like that, he pulls back.

Venti’s jaw slackened, flustered, eyes wide, and heart pinging somewhere in his throat. “O-Of course. We… we’ll see you there, then.”

“I have to head home,” Albedo says, returning to his usual calm. “Klee’s waiting, and Alice wants me for dinner.”

“Right. Yeah. Of course.” Venti nods again, watching as Albedo turns and walks away, vanishing down the path with the ease of a guy who has absolutely no idea how much disruption he just caused in Venti’s system.

As soon as he’s out of sight, Venti chokes on his spit, harshly, a laugh puffing from his lips. “Infatuated, my ass,” he grunts, recalling what Albedo told him that day under this very same tree.

That boy is… gone. That Albedo? That one is toast.

**

When Venti reaches the campus gates, he’s met with a sea of students. Chatter, clamor, bodies crowding the entrance like moths to a sudden flame. The air buzzes with curiosity, and Venti has to slow down, tiptoeing to see over shoulders, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever has the entire university piling up like it’s the scene of a reproach. He cranes his neck, scans the swarm, until his eyes land on a flash of twin pigtails bouncing above the heads—Hu Tao, practically climbing over someone’s shoulder like a goblin, trying her might to see what the fuss is.

“Oi, Barbatos!” she squeals when he taps her back. “Quick, look!”

“Look where?” he asks, bewildered, but she’s already grabbing his wrist, hauling him into the throng like a kid to a candy booth.

“It’s the model—Eula! Eula Lawrence! She’s here!”

Wait, what? Venti bristles. “You mean the Eula? Like, international supermodel-slash-actress-slash-commercial-goddess Eula?”

“Yes, now move,” she hisses, tugging him harder as they push through layers of stunned students, the space ahead blocked off by black suits and security guards. They can only get so close before the line stiffens, but it’s close enough for Venti to see her.

And holy shit.

There she is, in the flesh. Eula Lawrence. Her long, maya blue hair is twisted into a bun, messy by design, that somehow looks better than most people’s wedding hair. She’s draped in a purple chiffon dress that pirouettes in the wind, peacock-patterned heels clicking against the stone, a snowy fur shawl slung luxuriantly over her bare shoulders like it was born there. She’s unreal—like she stepped out of a magazine shoot, and Venti feels his breath snag in his throat.

He doesn’t even notice when his jaw drops. His body acts on instinct, ready to fanboy—to scream her name, wave like a maniac, maybe catch her eye for a brief, cosmic moment. But just as his lips part to yell—

He sees him.

Xiao.

Being ushered forward by security.

Venti falters mid-breath, eyes locked on his best friend, who’s being escorted through the crowd like some kind of…VIP. He watches as Xiao approaches Eula, watches as they greet, watches as they—what the fuck—shake hands.

And then.

Then she leans in and kisses him on the cheek.

Venti staggers. He doesn’t dare breathe. Can’t. Everything else—Hu Tao yelling, the murmuring crowd, the glow of magic hour over campus—blurs out like static on an old TV. It’s not even the kiss that guts him, rather, it’s the look in Xiao’s eyes. The way his brows twitch, a wink of surprise, but he doesn’t step back. Not really.

Venti feels it. A jab to the ribs. Not jealousy. No. This is something else. Something bone-deep and ugly. Envy. Pain. Panic. It builds fast and fastens around his throat.

This is what it’ll feel like, he realizes. This is what it will be like when Xiao finally falls in love—with someone not him. When Xiao chooses someone else, anyone else. When he kisses them, touches them, loves them in a way Venti has only ever imagined in the dark corners of his room at 2 a.m.

Because they’re just friends, aren’t they?

Best friends. Roommates. A pair of idiots sharing cereal and toothbrush holders and jokes that only make sense to them. But it was always going to end, wasn’t it? One day, Xiao will date. He’ll fall for someone—beautiful, brilliant, breathtaking. He’ll build a life that doesn’t include Venti sleeping on the couch or leaving takeout on the counter. He’ll marry. Have kids. Move out. Move on.

And Venti will still be here, frozen under the campus gates, trying to figure out how to breathe through a smile.

“Barbatos!”

The voice jars him. Hu Tao again.

He blinks. “Huh…”

“I’ve been calling you for ten minutes, lad. Are you—are you okay?”

“I…” He tries to laugh, the sound dry and brittle. “I spaced out. Sorry.”

Hu Tao’s face melts. “Shit. I shouldn’t have dragged you here. I didn’t know that crap was going to happen. I was just—just curious, you know? Like everyone else.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” Venti waves her off, trying to sound casual. “I mean… come on. It’s Eula. The Eula. She just kissed my best friend. How insane is that?” He chuckles, a strangled, hollow sound, one hand pressed to his stomach as it starts to churn. “Xiao’s a lucky bastard, huh?”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He bolts.

Shoulders crash into him as he shoves through the crowd, his throat tight and chest clenched, darting past students and security, and idiosyncrasies. He finds a corner, one far enough away, and folds forward—and then he’s heaving.

Throwing up.

Everything he ate earlier splashes onto the grass, acrid and violent. Somewhere behind him, Hu Tao shouts his name, voice steeped in worry, but it’s all white noise. His eyes mist, his body trembles, and he throws up again. Hands grab his arms, trying to hold him steady—maybe hers, he can’t tell—but the world keeps spinning, and his vision goes rigid.

This is jealousy?

This is what it feels like?

Because Venti doesn’t remember ever feeling like this before… Xiao has never let anyone get close enough to stir this kind of fear in Venti, this kind of ache that tunnels through his chest and indents him like a rotten tree.

That woman… Eula… kissed him. And not even in the romantic way, not necessarily. But it doesn’t matter. She got to touch him. She got to smile at him. Got to look at him the way Venti wants to be looked at. And that? That destroys him.

Because Xiao is his. At least, he thought so.

The first kiss on Xiao’s cheek should’ve been his. He’s waited so long—so damn long—to be brave enough. And someone else beat him to it without even trying.

He needs to get out of here.

Needs to vanish, go home, curl under his sheets, and cry himself quiet. He can’t stand to be here any longer.

So he runs.

Wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve, shoves past the onlookers like a ghost, ignores Hu Tao’s frantic voice calling after him. He doesn’t turn around.

He walks faster. Then faster.

Then breaks into a full sprint.

Alone.

**

Maybe…Venti overreacted last night.

He can admit that. Kind of. In his defense, he’s never been properly jealous before, not in his entire eighteen years of being alive and deeply, stupidly gay for his best friend. So, sue him. The nausea, the runaway dramatics, the hurling in public? That was just him… coiling. But now, in the cold fluorescent lighting of the university library on a Saturday morning, he starts realizing that maybe he should’ve waited five seconds before combusting emotionally and sprinting away like he was in some cheesy queer telenovela.

Because the truth is, he still doesn’t know who the hell Eula actually is to Xiao.

A cousin? A family friend? A sugar mommy? (Okay, probably not that last one—but still. Who shows up at a university surrounded by bodyguards, asks for Xiao specifically, and kisses him like they’re starring in a Chanel ad?!) It makes no fucking sense. And Venti? Well. He didn’t stick around long enough to figure it out. He just… vomited. In the grass. In front of Hu Tao. And left.

So now he’s here, at the library, halfway to full regret, working a weekend shift for the sake of extra cash. Because being heartbroken and broke is just too cliché, even for him.

He scoops up another unruly pile of books someone left strewn across the philosophy table like a war crime, and hauls them back to the Non-fiction aisle, shelving each one with a bit more force than necessary.

Five more hours. That’s all. Five hours until sundown. Then it’s home, clothes, ice cream rendezvous with Kazuha, and off to Scaramouche’s party, the little troll’s address already saved in Venti’s notepad. All he has to do is survive until then.

Last night, he had done exactly what he swore he wouldn’t: went straight to bed and cried. Not the pretty, single-tear, Romeo-on-the-balcony type of crying either. No. It was silent, pathetic, pillow-soaking heartbreak, because damn it, that kiss should’ve been his.

And the worst part? He was proud of himself for holding it in during the tube ride. Proud of not bursting into tears in front of Hu Tao or the spectators or, gods forbid, Xiao. But those tears, the stubborn little traitors, lacerated at his eyes like they were trying to chew through his skull. And when he made it to the dorm, at last, curled up in the dark, they won.

He sniffles now, scoffing at himself as he rounds the corner of the aisle.

Because seriously—who the actual hell is Eula?

What’s her deal? Dropping in like some celestial being in Louboutin heels, kissing Venti’s best friend like he belongs to her? What is she, the final boss of heartbreak? He slams another book back onto the shelf a little too hard. Whatever. She probably smells like money and drinks essenced water and owns a yacht. Meanwhile, Venti’s over here breaking his spine doing away with sociology textbooks for minimum wage.

He’s halfway through muttering obscenities about library patrons with no sense of decency when a voice cuts through the aisle:

“You doing okay there, Barbatos?”

“What—?!” Venti jolts, nearly dropping Memoirs of a Geisha on his foot. His head snaps around—and oh, fuck. It’s Miss Lisa. “I—I mean, sorry. I didn’t hear you, Miss Lisa.”

The head librarian merely chuckles, honey-sweet, eyes shining with their usual blend of merriment and suppressed prudence. “I asked if you’re doing okay. Because I can feel your raging aura all the way from the front desk.”

And Venti wants to die.

“Oh! I—I’m fine! Totally fine!” he stammers, flapping his hands awkwardly. “Just frustrated with, uh, the way students treat the books. Y’know. Disrespect. Entropy. Anarchy.”

She laughs behind her hand. “Mm. I remember my first few weekends here. The rage is a rite of passage. You’ll adjust.”

Venti forces a grin. “Of course, Miss Lisa! You’re right.”

She hums, turning back to her paperwork (with the serenity of a woman who’s been shelved in every emotional state imaginable, conceivably.) As soon as she’s out of sight, Venti exhales so hard he almost deflates. He grabs another armful of books as an act of vengeance.

The worst part? The students remain here. Hovering. Breathing and existing and leaving their damn textbooks sprawled across every available surface resembling a goddamn crime scene. Sometimes, Venti wants to print out a giant poster and stick it on every wall:

PUT YOUR FUCKING BOOKS BACK OR I’LL PERSONALLY SHOVE THEM DOWN YOUR ENTIRE DIGESTIVE TRACT.

But maybe that’s too much.

Probably.

Still—fuck all of them.

Especially Eula.

Because Venti’s blood is boiling again, his fingers strained around the spine of Global Economics: A Modern Approach, as if the textbook had done him dirty.

But that’s just it. She had no business showing up. No business looking that beautiful. No business kissing Xiao, like he was hers to kiss.

Because he’s not. He’s Venti’s.

…Right?

Right?

**

He’d clocked out of the library hours ago, but he hadn’t gone straight home. Instead, he holed up in the music hall, smashing at the drum set like a madman, because the last thing he wanted was to see Xiao right now.

The poor snare drum barely survived.

Venti had nearly broken it—his entire life savings flashing before his eyes as he pictured the inevitable you break it, you buy it conversation. Shit. But he couldn’t help himself. He needed an outlet, and so the cymbals, the toms, the bass drum—they all suffered his wrath while he blasted Panic! At the Disco in his ears, letting the burden of last night’s fiasco crash over him again and again.

He felt like he’d just gone through a breakup.

Which was stupid.

Because how could you call it a breakup when you weren’t even dating the guy?

But still… his heart twisted in torment, his stomach churned with resentment, and even though he saw Xiao every day, he still missed him. His face, his scent, his gorgeous back, his stupidly round ass, his deliciously disheveled morning hair, his sharp wit, and his damn sarcasm…

Gods, I’m pathetic.

So yes, Venti had nearly broken a drum, and all he wanted was to feel okay again. Was that too much to ask?

With a sigh, he slumps against the subway’s handrails, watching the city pass by as he waits for his stop.

It’s cold when he steps outside, but thankfully, he’s bundled in one of his thousands of hoodies. Small mercies.

On the ten-minute walk home, he finally—finally—pulls out his phone, switching it back on after leaving it dead for almost a day. A mistake, honestly, because the moment it powers up, a tidal wave of missed calls and texts floods his notifications. Hu Tao’s name is everywhere, along with a few from Scaramouche and Kazuha.

And then—

A new group chat?

‘besties headquarters’

What fresh hell is this?

He taps on it.

who tao: BARBATOS!!! are u there, mate? who tao: bitch, answer me. twinnie??? who tao: come out, come out, wherever u are~ 😋 who tao: fuck, am so worried abt u bro reply ASAP lumine: what happened? :o who tao: this bitch puked on me. well, not ON me, but he threw up last night and ive been trying to call him but bitch wouldn’t answer my calls !!!!! 😤💢 xiangling: huh? why? aether: WHAT aether: also, who made this gc? who tao: ME who tao: BC THIS IS AN EMERGENCY venti: hu tao, you’re exaggerating bestie 😣 who tao: THERE U ARE WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT LAST NIGHT WHY WOULNDT U ANSWER MY CALLS I STG BARBATOS venti: im sorry !!! i wasn’t in the mood to talk :’( lumine: what’s wrong, venti? :( lumine: also, can i add amber to this gc? who tao: GO BESTIE ADD THE GF. also,, twinnie, r u okay now? r u feeling well? :// amber: oh, wow hello :3 lumine: hi baby i love you >:)< amber: i love you too, bbygirl 😘 what’s going on here? xingqiu: What’s up, my lieges? :D venti: nothing, nothing’s wrong. what’s this gc for…? who tao: mona, u tell him what u saw who tao: MONA !!!!!!!! venti: just tell me hu tao u’re scaring me lumine: yeah, just spill the beans hu :o xiangling: do it !! who tao: fine, fine 😩 who tao: so idk where yall been last night but eula went to our school and she kissed xiao 😭😭😭 xingqiu: WAIT WHAT aether: EULA? AS IN EULA THE MODEL EULA??? amber: WTF WHAT who tao: I KNOW I KNOW IM SHOOK AS FUCK AS WELL xingqiu: BUT OMG SHE KISSED XIAO?? LIKE ON THE LIPS??? 😳😳😳😳😳 venti: on his cheek, xingqiu… xingqiu: oh xingqiu: but WAIT IM SO LOST WHY WAS SHE AT OUT COLLEGE who tao: that, we have no clue 😑 who tao: but she was there and it seems like she knows xiao and xiao seemed to be expecting her too 😶 who tao: and then, mona… Mona where the fuck are u u should be the one telling them !!!! 🤬🤬🤬🤬 mona: OI OI OK IM HERE WHAT’S GOING ON NOW who tao: there u are u moraless git. tell venti what u saw! lumine: ksjdkajdlq mona: FUCK U HU TAO who tao: FUCK URSELF aether: ok wait this is making my head spin… 🤕 lumine: u and me both brother 🥺 venti: does everyone just… really know how i feel about my best friend? who tao: YES mona: YUP xingqiu: UHUH xiangling: PRETTY MUCH YES lumine: yes, venti 😊 amber: ^ aether: yeah hehe venti: i hate you all 😭 who tao: u love us 😚 lumine: we love u, venti 🥰 who tao: MONA, FUCKING TALK mona: OK OK FUCK SHEESH. ok barbatos, idk how to tell u this, so i didn’t tell u right away, but i saw xiao and eula in a coffee shop the other day venti: oh venti: um wait mona before u continue to say anything, im just gonna

And then he does it—he leaves the group.

Can’t do it. Not now. Not when the ache in his chest is squeezing like a vice.

Because when he steps through the front door of the dorm, the first thing he sees is Xiao—on the couch, phone to his ear, voice light and breezy in a way Venti’s never heard before. And it’s her name that makes him freeze.

“That’s okay, Eula. We can talk more about it later. For now—”

Venti doesn’t let himself hear the rest. He drops his keys in the bowl by the door, shuffles past the living room without a word, without a glance. The hallway stretches like a tightrope. He gets to his door, closes it—not a slam, but not subtle either. Just loud enough.

He throws himself on the bed, limbs heavy, lungs hollow. Scrolls blindly through his contacts just to feel less tethered to this reality. And that’s when it comes:

[from: kitsune kazuha! 🤗🦊]

kazuha: Hi, Venti! :) venti: hey, kazuha !! 😊 kazuha: So, those ice creams? :D I’m actually free right now. Only if you’re up for it. venti: of course! let me just go get changed !! i’ll meet u at cat’s tail? 🍨🍦😸 kazuha: Sure! See you there :)

Thank heavens.

He peels himself off the mattress, trades his white hoodie for a teal one, something loose and comforting. Ties his twin braids tighter. Slips on glasses for flair. He doesn’t want to look nice. He wants to look unaffected. Like a walking lie.

He heads back out.

Xiao’s still on the couch, feet propped, phone pressed to his cheek. His voice trails behind Venti as he moves past the scene, akin to someone fading out of their own life, little by little. He puts on his slippers. Opens the door.

And leaves.

Xiao doesn’t even ask where he’s going.

**

When Venti arrives at Cat’s Tail, the first thing he sees through the frosted glass windows is Kazuha—already seated, dressed sharply in a black knitted sweater and crisp red shorts, looking like the softest kind of aesthetic rebellion. He’s sitting alone at a booth by the corner, tapping lightly at his phone screen, completely at ease in the golden ambient glow of the café.

Venti stops for a second outside, caught in a brief swell of guilt. Kazuha’s been waiting for him—how long, he doesn’t know—but it hits him that he’d been walking in a daze the entire way here, thoughts circling back like vultures, gnawing at his mood.

He pushes one of the double doors open and steps inside, where the scent of toasted waffles and vanilla cream rushes to meet him. Kaeya is manning the front, of course, effortlessly handsome as ever, lounging behind the counter like he owns the place.

“Venti, hey!” Kaeya greets with a warm lilt, his eye flicking over the bard with practiced ease.

Venti smiles out of habit. “Hello, Kaeya.”

It’s a flimsy smile, and maybe Kaeya notices, but—thankfully—he doesn’t pry. No teasing, no commentary, just his usual charm. “Here to dine?” he asks, grin unfading.

Venti nods, forcing some enthusiasm back into his voice. “Just ice cream. With a friend.”

He spots Kazuha looking up from his phone just then, those mellow garnet eyes brightening when they lock with Venti’s. The boy waves, and Venti waves back, quick to cross the room and collapse beside him with a sheepish bump of their elbows.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, trying to keep the teasing light. “Didn’t keep you waiting too long, did I?”

Kazuha slips his phone into his pocket and flashes him a smile, ever so slightly flustered. “Nah. I just got here myself.”

There’s that same shy look again—the faintest pink rising to his cheeks. Kazuha has a way of smiling like a secret is sitting on the tip of his tongue, and for some reason, that makes Venti’s heart stutter a beat.

“What would you like to have?” Kazuha asks, voice kind, patient.

Venti props his elbows on the table and cradles his face in his palms, humming in thought. “Hmm… buttered pecan, maybe? No, wait—actually, birthday cake. Yeah. I want that one. You know, the one with the buttery frosting and cake chunks and rainbow sprinkles.” He lets out a weak chuckle. “I think I need something sweet. I’m kinda… feeling blue.”

He says it like a joke, but it isn’t. The ache is real, dulled only slightly by the smell of sugar and the promise of cold sweetness. He just hopes Kazuha doesn’t ask what’s wrong, because gods, if he has to explain anything right now—he’ll break.

Thankfully, Kazuha just smiles. “You weren’t kidding about working here. You’ve memorized the ingredients?”

“A bit, yeah,” Venti chirps, grateful for the change in topic. He shrugs. “Not like I make the ice cream or anything, but… I did go on this random research spiral once. Google, y’know. It happens.”

“That’s so awesome,” Kazuha says with genuine delight, and for a second, it startles Venti how easily those words could warm his chest.

Then Kazuha rises and announces, “Tonight’s on me,” before heading over to the counter, where Fischl and Noelle are stationed and chatting between orders.

When he returns, he’s carrying two sugar cones. Venti’s is stacked with colorful birthday cake swirls, while Kazuha’s is the plainest vanilla scoop with a single bright cherry on top—neat, simple, classic. It almost makes Venti laugh. Of course. Kazuha looks like his own ice cream order.

They sit side by side, letting the chill and sweetness lull them into comfort. Kazuha talks about school, his professors, something about a group project, and Venti lets himself drift, listening, responding here and there. He doesn’t have the energy to do much else.

And then his phone vibrates in his pocket. He expects it to be Scaramouche, maybe sending more weird memes or trying to lock down plans for tonight. But it’s not.

[from: xiao bestieee 🏃♂️🤨📸]

xiao: hey. where are you? venti: ? xiao: what do you mean “?“ venti: 🙄 out with a friend venti: u rlly didnt see me come in earlier did u xiao: i did. who’s this friend? venti: ah u did u jus didnt bother acknowledging me lol venti: and it’s kazuha xiao: ah ok venti: need anything? 🤨 xiao: what time will u be coming back? venti: why does it matter? 🧐 xiao: it does. why are you being a pain? venti: oh, am i now? being a pain in xiao’s arse ehehehehe 🙄🙄🙄 xiao: venti…… venti: FINE. IN A BIT! IM COMING HOME IN A BIT. but i won’t be staying long, im getting myself drunk at scara’s house party later xiao: you’re really going there? venti: ofc. i want free drinks xiao: k. suit yourself then

Venti leaves the conversation with Xiao behind, buried under sarcasm and ellipses, choosing instead to return his full attention to Kazuha, who’s just now finishing off the last bite of his vanilla cone. The soft crunch reechoes between them, sort of, and Venti can’t help the snort that escapes him when he notices a smear of white along Kazuha’s cheek, right by the corner of his lips.

“Hold still,” he instructs, leaning in with ease born of familiarity, reaching forward to swipe the spot clean with a single finger. Without a doubt, Kazuha startles at the touch, blinking, eyes shifting to meet Venti’s—wide and scrawled. Venti, however, still in his teasing element, grins mischievously and licks the ice cream from his finger, all with an exaggerated flourish. “You made a mess,” he croons, sticking his tongue out at him.

But the moment turns strangely stilted.

Because just as Venti pulls back, he notices something different in Kazuha’s gaze—something hushed and shuddering at the edges. It’s quite an overnice transference but incontrovertible. Kazuha leans forward, narrowly perceptible at first, and then more surely, closing his eyes as though he’s stepping into something fragile. Something he’s dreamt about.

And Venti stills.

“K-Kazuha…? What are you—”

He jerks his head away, heart stuttering wildly in his chest, ears burning hot. The breath between them fissures like glass.

For a long, awkward beat, neither of them speaks.

Then, quietly—thick with regret—Kazuha murmurs, “Shit… Venti, I’m…I’m sorry.”

Venti swallows, facing the opposite direction. His voice comes out strangled, caught in the middle of trying to soften the blow and the heft of his anguish. “Um… that’s weird…” He laughs, but it sounds wrong, stiff, crumbly even to his own ears.

Then, his attention returns to his companion.

Kazuha’s gaze drops to his lap, red flushing up his neck, and the sight of him looking so crushed stabs at Venti’s heart more than he wants to admit. But the truth is… he can’t deal with this right now. He can’t. He came here to breathe, to feel okay for once. To forget.

He didn’t come here to be someone’s torment.

“I didn’t mean to, Venti,” Kazuha says again, softer this time. A whisper.

“I know,” Venti replies, standing up slowly. “It’s okay. Might’ve just been a… spur of the moment thing.”

You almost stole my first kiss.

He doesn’t say that part aloud.

“I think…” He glances down at the unfinished scoop in his hand. It’s melting now, dripping between his fingers. “I should go.”

Kazuha looks up, eyes wide and hurt, lips parting as if to protest, but no words come out. He stands too, reluctantly, hands curling into fists outside his pockets. He doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t beg. Just treks after him as they head for the exit.

Fischl, Noelle, and Kaeya call out goodbyes behind the counter, unaware of the change in the atmosphere. Perhaps. Venti throws them a small wave over his shoulder. “I’ll see you later,” he tells them, mind already miles away.

They walk in reticence, the moonlight nictitating across the pavement in long, pale strokes.

“Um… Venti?”

He halts in his steps. Inhales. Exhales. Turns halfway.

“Yeah, Kazuha?”

“Let me walk you to the station… at least?”

There’s something so small and sincere in how he says it—hopeful and ashamed in equal measure. Kazuha, standing there with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, looking like he’d accompany Venti all the way home if he asked, if it meant making up for what just happened.

Venti softens.

This boy. This sweet boy. Venti already loves being around him. He just… doesn’t know how to hold this moment without dropping it.

“Of course,” he responds, a faint smile curling his lips.

Kazuha beams, as if a storm just passed and the sun came out again, and they begin their leisure stroll through the winding streets toward the station. Neither of them speaks. There’s no need. The evening air, restful and brisk, does all the talking on their behalf.

**

When Venti steps through the foyer of the dorm, the first thing that hails him isn’t privacy. It’s Xiao.

“Had fun with your boyfriend?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest, one brow arched with an insufferable concoction of sarcasm and accusation. His tone proves acute, almost cold.

Venti stumbles, his foot not even past the threshold. He snaps his gaze up at Xiao, a scowl carving its way onto his face. “He’s not my boyfriend!” he snaps, fists balling at his sides. The second Xiao rolls his eyes in reply, something inside Venti itches to scream. “And how about you, Xiao? Did you have fun with your girlfriend?” he fires back, nodding toward the phone still clutched in Xiao’s hand.

For a moment, there’s skepticism.

A pause.

Xiao’s brows furrow, as if confused—or worse, caught off guard. Like he’s trying to decide how to fucking lie about it.

Well, Venti refuses to wait. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.” His voice wavers as he brushes past Xiao and storms toward his room. That delay—however short—is all the confirmation he needs. It’s true, then. It’s fucking true.

Fine. Whatever.

He’ll survive. He always does. He’ll smile and laugh with his friends and pretend none of this eats at him. Starting now, he’ll crush every last bit of affection he’s spent years cultivating, and bury whatever hope he used to harbor. Xiao is just a friend. A best friend. Nothing more. That’s all it will ever be.

Starting tonight.

[from: scaramouche 🛹😆🧢]

scaramouche: sooo, is my crush coming over tonight?? 😘 venti: yes. wait for me, i’ll be there scaramouche: ALRIGHTTTTT!! 😍😍😍🥳🥳🥳 scaramouche: see you, baby!!! take care on your way here! you know my address, yeah?? 🥰 venti: yep scaramouche: okay!!! 😘😘😘 venti: are u already drinking? u sure are energetic 🤨 scaramouche: HAHAH MAYBE?? 🥂🥳 venti: goodness! wait until i get there at least !! 😩 scaramouche: HFASJFSAD JUST BE HERE! ILL BE WAITING, VENTI, MY BELOVED SMOOCH SMOOCH SMOOCH venti: gross, scaramouche 🤢

Venti tosses his phone onto the bed and makes his way to the bathroom, where he scrubs his face and brushes his teeth like he’s washing the whole day out of his pores. He unties his braids, letting his hair fall loose in wonky waves that frame his face. His reflection in the mirror… smiling to a degree, tapping his cheeks to fake a teensy life into them, feels pointless.

Nonetheless, he’s glad Xiao isn’t out there in the living room, for once. One less thing to ignite his already short temper.

He throws open his closet and rifles through his clothes. It doesn’t matter that it’s just a house party; he’s going to look good. He’s going to feel good. Or at least pretend.

He settles on a gray Nike set. Baggy sweatpants and a matching pullover, decorated in bold white checks, paired with a varsity jacket in blue, orange, and white, ironed-on patches with too much care for someone trying to let go of things. His white sneakers are spotless. The socks, too. A duck soup armor for tonight.

He checks himself once more in the mirror. Breathes out. Then heads for the door.

“Oi, Xiao!” he calls out, pausing by the entryway.

“What?” comes Xiao’s voice from down the hall, disinterested.

“You coming to Scaramouche’s party or what? He’s asking about you.”

A lie. Scaramouche hadn’t said a word about him. But Venti’s still hoping. Still wishing.

“No,” Xiao replies flatly. “Have fun with Kazuha.”

There it is.

Venti rolls his eyes hard enough it hurts. “Jackass,” he mutters under his breath, yanks the door open, and steps into the night.

The cab he flags down is already waiting, and as he clambers inside, he scoots into the seat with a sigh. Let Xiao be an ass. Let him be charming, perfect, infuriating—and completely, heartbreakingly unavailable.

Venti isn’t going to think about it anymore. Not tonight.

He’s going to get sloshed.

And forget.

**

The house is massive. No—colossal. It’s exactly the kind of place you bank on to see in a lifestyle magazine, all pristine walls and modern opulence, not in the hands of a college student who wears beaten Vans and talks in memes. But here it is: Scaramouche’s home, standing like a wisenheimer monument to generational wealth. And Venti? He’s floored.

It dawns, belatedly, why Scaramouche once offhandedly said he wasn’t taking college too seriously. “Photography isn’t really my thing,” he’d mused a second time one afternoon over fries, “but my cousins made it work. I figured I’d give it a shot. People say I have an eye for moments.”

Venti stares up at the mansion, caught in awe and mild vertigo. Bass is thumping from inside, metrical and primal, shaking the ground at his feet. The whole place is alive—corruscating strobe lights pulse behind wide-paned windows, and the trap music’s evocation rolls down the street like thunder. Students stream toward the front gate in packs, laughing, shouting, carrying bottles and bags as they herd toward the wide front lawn. Car doors slam, another Uber pulls away, and the scent of beer and perfume hangs heavy in the air.

A hand drops onto his shoulder.

“Yeah,” says Mona, dryly and knowing, “he was born with a platinum spoon.”

Venti turns to see her beside him, in a glittering crimson bodycon dress that hugs her like a threat. Her hair’s undone and agrestal, lipstick dark as blood, eyes sharp as ever. She doesn’t even look surprised by the scale of the house—more like she’s mildly impressed again.

“Didn’t expect this,” Venti admits, blinking up at the sheer height of the front door.

Mona just hums and pinches his chin, flashing a smirk. “Don’t be so shocked. Half our friends are loaded—you just never noticed because you’ve been busy playing housewife to you-know-who.”

At the mention of Xiao, Venti’s heart sinks like a lead weight into his gut. The spark of curiosity dulls immediately. The urge to get drunk slams into him so hard it almost knocks the wind out of his lungs. No, he needs to black out tonight. Drown the ache. Dance until his knees give and forget everything with the help of ethanol.

“Don’t bring him up,” he clips, bitter. “We’re here to get absolutely obliterated, aren’t we?”

Mona grins like a wolf in lipstick. “Exactly. Think of what I told you in the group chat earlier. And go feral, babe.”

“Say less.”

They link arms and stride forward. Their little party grows on the way—Xingqiu, looking suspiciously overdressed for a rager; Chongyun, bashful and wide-eyed as ever; Hu Tao, glittering under the porch light with her hair high in a sleek pony and a red Solo cup already in hand, somehow dancing before she’s even inside.

“Let’s fucking gooooo!” Hu Tao cheers, practically tackling them both in greeting with a kiss to each cheek. “I am ready to sin!”

The moment the doors open, they’re swallowed by pandemonium.

Inside, the party is already a fever dream: neon lights cut through fog from a smoke machine, strobe lights spin and bounce off glass and tiles, and a DJ is perched in one corner behind a booth, bass shaking the walls as if the house has a heartbeat of its own. It’s heat, sweat, spilled liquor, and something untamed beneath all the gyrating bodies.

Venti barely has time to process it before a chummy voice slices through the haze.

“BABY!”

Scaramouche.

The host barrels toward him, to all intents and purposes vibrating with booze and adrenaline, hair tousled, black shirt rumpled over black shorts. It’s criminal how laid-back he looks in this cathedral of wealth. Venti’s scooped up into a hug that reeks of vodka and victory.

“Baby yourself,” Venti snorts, laughing in his ear, half-hugging him back, half-trying to breathe. Mona rolls her eyes and peels the clingy boy off him with veteran adroitness.

Scaramouche grins, rosy pink and sweating. “So glad you made it,” he asserts, glass of champagne in one hand. “Drinks are behind you. Kitchen’s open. My dad’s on some business trip with fiancée number three, so. House is all ours tonight.” He lets out a laugh, but it sounds sharp-edged under the tipsy joy.

Venti catches the note of acrimony. By a hair’s breadth. But he decides not to press. Tonight’s not for excavating. It’s for misbehaving.

“Already got mine!” Hu Tao chirps, swinging her cup. “Didn’t want to break your rich-boy glasses. I get rowdy when I’m fucked.”

“Good,” Mona mutters, sipping her own drink. “We love a wild card.”

With that, Hu Tao snatches Mona’s hand and pulls her into the crowd, hips already swaying, disappearing into the swirl of lights and music.

Meanwhile, Venti turns to the bar.

This evening, he’s not Venti the dormmate. Not Venti the pining best friend. Not the overachiever, not the music nerd, not the one who watches Xiao from the corner of his eye and waits for moments that never come. No. Tonight, he’s just another body in the house of a boy who calls him baby, in a gaggle of friends who want him happy, in a cloud of noise where feelings don’t have names.

…Xingqiu and Chongyun are already lost to the tide, laughing somewhere in the expanse of bodies, drinks in hand, consumed by the splurt of the concourse. Venti watches them disappear, much like waves retreating from shore. He turns toward the entrance again, just in time to spot Ganyu stepping inside, flanked by Lumine, Amber, and Aether. An ensemble cast making their slow-motion entrance.

“Hey!” he calls, hand raised, and it may be half-hearted, but Scaramouche appears beside him as if summoned by it, pressing a blue plastic cup into Venti’s hand with a grin too vain for someone likely halfway to blitzed. Rum and Coke, Venti guesses. The smell thwacks him in the throat.

He takes a swig anyway. Gods, he’s missed this. The sting. The comfort. The easy numbness that starts behind his ribs and spreads like dye in water.

Ganyu and the others reach him, greeted by whoops and quick hugs, grateful smiles as Scaramouche grandly announces that everything is on the house—and adds, “No pun intended,” with a wink.

Venti’s not laughing, but the others seem amused.

Didn’t Scaramouche explicitly say everyone had to bring their own booze? Venti vaguely recalls that somewhere in the initial invites. But he figures—rich kid prerogative. He can afford to forget his own rules.

“You’re here before us!” Ganyu yells over the tumultuous bass, which now cannonades below Kendrick Lamar’s DNA. “I thought you’d be with Xiao! Why isn’t he with you? Where is he, by the way?”

Venti’s teeth grit behind his grin.

“I don’t know, Ganyu! He said he’s not coming!” he yells back, severe than necessary.

Her brows furrow, puzzlement written across her delicate features. But Venti shrugs her off.

“Maybe he’s with his girlfriend,” he adds, flippantly and venomously. Just to spite. And it lands precisely how he wants; Ganyu’s eyes go wide, but Venti doesn’t stall to decode the rest of her reaction. He pivots to Scaramouche instead, nudges him once on the shoulder.

“What is it, babe?” Scaramouche slurs, marginally, smile still charmingly lopsided.

“Another one, please.” Venti leans in, mouth by his ear.

Scaramouche flashes him a foxy look—half-lidded, already scanning him for the sort of buzz he’s aiming for. He disappears for only a few minutes before returning with two more cups—vodka and lime this time.

Good. Venti prefers it stronger.

He hoists himself onto one of the barstools, drink in hand, and lets the babble befog around him. Lumine and Amber are off somewhere in the corner, dancing like they’re the only ones in the room. Amber’s arms snug around Lumine’s waist, their foreheads nearly touching. It’s a sight that feels… too soft for this type of hullabaloo. Venti watches for a beat too long, until shame burns through him for witnessing something so private. He looks away, the lime vodka singeing his throat.

It warms his chest. He wants more.

This, he thinks sourly, this is the closest thing I have to therapy.

Another gulp. Then another. If he’s lucky, he’ll pass out in a stranger’s lap before he starts crying again.

He’s a joke. A wimp. A boy with an aching heart who never had the courage to say what mattered. He didn’t even tell Xiao how he feels. Of course, Xiao doesn’t know. Of course, he didn’t mean to break me.

And still…it fucking hurts.

He swirls the ice in his cup, tongue numb, and chuckles to himself, pathetically. Somewhere in the madness, Xiangling arrives, dragging in a giant bottle like it’s her date, and behind her, Keqing, always immaculate even in a house party. A whole flock. Everyone’s here.

Everyone but him.

Venti checks his phone on impulse. A new message.

‘don’t drink too much’ ‘ask scaramouche to drive u and ganyu back’

He scoffs aloud, thumb hovering over the screen. Now he wants to play protective? Now, when he didn’t even spare a second glance earlier that day?

Please. As if Venti’s going to swoon over crumbs.

He swipes out of the chat without replying, then pulls up his messages with Albedo instead. where are you?

A few minutes and two more shots later, Scaramouche sending them over with a flourish like he’s running bottle service at a Vegas club, Venti’s head spins slightly. His cheeks are flushed, vision warm-edged. He’s starting to feel pleasantly gone.

And then:

albaedo: I’m already here.

He looks up, scanning the room, and—

There.

By the archway, slipping through the crowd like he doesn’t even try to be graceful, Albedo stands. In black. Nothing fancy. Just a plain tee, a windbreaker, ripped jeans. But gods, he looks good.

Venti's eyes travel from his dark shirt to the glint of the chain at his neck, to his messy, half-tied hair, and pacific, comely posture. Albedo’s never tried to be the center of attention, but somehow he always is. And next to him—Aether, dressed clean and crisp, maroon varsity jacket gleaming under the lights.

They look like a perfectly framed photo already. And Venti, despite everything swirling inside him, feels something tender press up against the crevices of his drunken haze. Finally, he thinks. Two people who deserve good things.

Even if he’s nowhere near having it himself.

…And even if he’s still wondering why the person he wants most isn’t the one he’s drinking with tonight.

“Albedo!” Venti shouts, rising above the pounding storm of bodies and booming music. He doesn’t miss how Aether jolts at the name, head snapping up like a deer caught in headlights. Perfect. Venti winks at him—teasing, pointed—and watches the poor boy flush red to his ears, visibly fidgeting.

Albedo weaves his way toward the sound of his name, shouldering through clusters of grinding limbs and neon-lit silhouettes. Venti hops off the stool in a valiant attempt to meet him halfway—and nearly topples both of them to the floor. He crashes into Albedo, ungraceful and giggling, the room lurching around him like a bad carnival ride.

“Whoa—okay,” Albedo murmurs, catching him, steady as a pillar. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine~” Venti answers too quickly, hiccupping. Oh. So it begins.

“You’re wasted, and I haven’t even said hi properly.”

“Nooo, who says I’m off my trolley? I’m great, thank you very much~” Venti sings, slurring just enough to double-cross the lie. He lets out a peal of laughter, too loud, too loose. Hell…

Ganyu pops up behind them, very suddenly, a whisper turned human. “Let’s get you to sit somewhere. Come on, Venti,” she insists gingerly, guiding him toward a long leather couch tucked into the side of the room. He flops down without protest, head falling against the armrest. It’s cold, surprisingly comforting. The world continues to spin.

In the haze, he makes out the vague shapes of Xingqiu and Chongyun, carrying a glass of water. Chongyun hands it over. Venti accepts it without comment and downs it in one long gulp. The water tastes like glass and regret.

From the corner of his bleary vision, he spots Ganyu with Keqing now—fingers laced, Keqing brushing cerulean strands behind Ganyu’s ear, earning a bashful smile in return. Adorable. Venti swallows around the convulsion.

Even Qiqi, he thinks mournfully, even the oblivious child will grow up to be devastatingly beautiful because it’s in their genes. And him? He’ll be here. Drunk and inconsolable at twenty-eight, probably, because someone kissed Xiao once, and he’s never emotionally recovered.

Mona flops beside him, hair corybantic and lips red like wine spilled on snow. Her head drops onto his shoulder.

“Hey, Mona… where’d you vanish to?” he mumbles.

“Around,” she answers. The bass drowns out the rest.

Venti giggles, casting his gaze back to the crowd. There’s Scaramouche, flanked by Xiangling and Hu Tao, laughing over something he’s said, cups in hand. Aether and Albedo hover nearby, in their own orbit, while Lumine and Amber are slow dancing to whatever-the-hell-this-song-is, swaying with their foreheads pressed together.

And then there’s Venti, who sits alone on this couch like the world’s saddest decoration.

Fuck this.

He springs up, Mona yelping as he dislodges her.

“Where are you going? Come back, you traitorous pillow!” she protests, reaching for him, but Venti shrugs her off, stumbling toward the bar. He’s a man on a mission, alright.

He grabs a bottle—beer, something light—and chugs it straight from the neck, the liquid running down his chin, soaking into the fabric of his shirt. He doesn’t care. Beer’s supposed to settle the hard stuff anyway, yeah?

When he finishes, he lets out a savage burp and slams the bottle on the counter. The clang reverberates, and somewhere, someone cheers. Venti turns, ablaze, and raises both arms like he just won a marathon. He howls. People howl back. The crowd welcomes him like a fallen god returned.

He throws himself into the center of the hue and cry. Bodies bounce. Beats drop. The strobe lights twinkle like broken stars. Venti dances.

And he dances hard.

Xingqiu and Chongyun reappear, drawn by the vortex of Venti’s hysteria.

“Barbatos! You good again?” Xingqiu shouts, breathless with laughter.

“Of course! Don’t you know who I am? It’s me! Venti the chugging master!” he hoots, puffed with self-importance. He spins, pointing back at the bar. “Did you see me? I finished that bottle in one go!”

They lose it—Xingqiu doubling over, Chongyun pink in the cheeks, muttering something about getting him some food. But Venti’s too far gone to hear. Too far gone to care.

Scaramouche materializes at his side, grin lazy and eyes fever-bright. He hands over a shot glass like it’s sacred. “More?”

Venti beams. “Of course!”

“You’re the chugging master, after all,” Scaramouche grouses, emulating him with devilish glee.

“I am!” Venti cheers, laughing. Uncontrollably.

The liquor hits like fire.

Then Scaramouche’s arms are around him, hands snaking up his back, pulling them closer, hips pressing in time with the beat. Venti melts into it, caught up in the swing, the proximity, the intoxicating hotness of another body giving him something to hold on to.

And then—

“Your boy’s arrived, by the way,” Scaramouche mutters into his ear.

Venti doesn’t understand. Doesn’t want to. Doesn’t need to.

He ignores it, keeps dancing, lets Scaramouche press into him as the music slows into something sensual and slurred. He sees Ganyu and Keqing not far from them—kissing now, tender and deep and hungry. Venti feels it like a roundhouse wallop.

Fuck.

He wants that. He wants that.

He wants to kiss someone until he forgets who he is. He wants someone’s fingers in his hair, someone’s voice in his ear saying his name like it’s holy.

He wants to kiss someone he loves.

Xiao.

His chest constricts. His throat tightens.

No. Don’t. He shakes his head, trying to will the thought away. Not tonight. Not when you’re drunk. You’ll cry.

You’ll cry.

You’ll fucking cry.

And crying, he knows, would undo him completely.

His eyes wander, dazed and languid, over the cavernous room. This thing… with ceilings so tall they feel like they’re pressing down on the sky. There’s a balcony above, overlooking the lusterless, congested floor, and Venti feels like, if he blinked too long, the place might just collapse into a dream.

He scans the throng of party-goers, and the sight that holds him fast is across the room: Albedo and Aether. Tucked away near the other bar, they aren’t exactly kissing, aren’t dancing either, aren’t even cradling each other close—but they’re holding hands. Hands shyly, in low tones, clasped between them like a vow. And they’re tittering at something. Something small. Something just for them.

It’s nothing loud or dramatic. But it’s supple. It’s bona fide.

Venti is so happy for them he could cry.

So he does. Just a little. The tears rise uninvited, resting along the brim of his eyes like a secret he doesn’t want to tell. His vision blurs… slightly so… enough that the lights dissolve into a watercolor mess. He sniffles, biting down a smile, and turns his gaze back to Scaramouche, who’s watching him wordlessly.

“You’re really pretty, Venti,” the guy says, tone uncharacteristically calm, almost reverent. “Hope you know that.”

It catches him off-guard. The way he says it. Like it isn’t just flattery. Like it’s something true he’s been holding in his pocket all night.

“I—I… um—” Venti stammers, tripping over himself.

Scaramouche chuckles—veiled, not mocking. “Relax. It’s a compliment. Just saying it as it is.” He tips his head to the side. “I know you don’t like me like that. It’s cool. I mean, I don’t even like like you in that way. But it’s still true. I do have a crush on you, you know.”

Venti blinks. He doesn’t know what to do with that—can’t hold it, can’t return it, can’t even examine it.

So instead, he waves toward the drinks. “Um. More?” he quizzes, in that delicate, tipsy slur that’s already lost its edge.

Scaramouche—unbothered, cheeky, warm—simpers as if he expected nothing less. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” He bows with a flourish and disappears into the mob.

When he comes back, he’s holding a coupe glass filled with something red and shining. It smells like cherry, ice, and trouble. Venti swallows it in two mouthfuls. It burns sweetly.

Scaramouche takes the glass from his hand like it’s a ritual they’ve done a hundred times. “As I was saying…”

“Mmm?” Venti hums dreamily, head swaying to the music again. His smile is soft. His body lax. His thoughts are oil slicks.

“I just…” Scaramouche shrugs one shoulder, hands tucked in his jacket pockets. “I can’t keep watching you rip yourself apart over Xiao. I mean—come on. Just say something to him already. You’re both miserable and weird, and everyone knows you’re obsessed with each other. It’s not that hard. Look at me.” He grins. “Told you how I feel, didn’t I?”

Oh.

Venti chortles, but there’s no quality in it. Just an empty, hollow sort of deride that evaporates at the fringes. Scaramouche is talking sense. So much sense for a party.

But Venti doesn’t reply. He can’t. His stomach lurches. He presses a hand to it.

Shit.

The nausea creeps in sharp, fast, and he knows what this is. He didn’t eat. Too much ice cream, not enough real food. Too much booze, not enough self-control.

He clutches his middle and stumbles off, muttering, “Bathroom,” as he slips away from Scaramouche.

No directions. No plan. Just blind fumbling.

The house is massive—practically a maze, every hallway the same sprawling white, every door a mystery. As he stumbles past the kitchen, he catches Amber and Lumine, pressed against the island, kissing like they’ve got no air left in the world but each other’s mouths.

“Get a room, you maniacs,” Venti hollers, whistling. Lumine flips him off mid-makeout without even turning her head.

He cackles. That’s fair.

He staggers on, brushing his palms along the walls to steady himself. Door after door—locked, dark, someone inside—until finally, fucking finally, one opens to a bathroom. Thank the archons.

He stumbles in, beelining for the toilet. He pees. Flushed. Sits down on the lid after, dizzy and breathless and soaked in the tail-end of a high that already feels like it’s turning against him.

It’s dim inside, the mirror cracked at the corner, and for a second… it’s just him.

Just Venti. Tiny and quiet. Spinning a bit, eyelids heavy, chest full of words he’s never said.

He breathes.

Just breathes.

Then… closes his eyes.

And the second he does, the memory rushes in—ruthless and uninvited. Eula. Xiao. That clement voice he thought he knew so well, murmuring her name like it meant something devotional. The flash of her perfect face, and Xiao’s secrecy through it all.

Venti’s hands crimp into fists over his knees.

His own best friend. The one person he’d clung to for years. The one who knew how he liked his tea, how he cried during movies and refused to admit it, how he hummed when he cooked, and how he never once… never once mentioned there was someone else. Not even a hint.

Why? Why hide it? Why couldn’t Xiao trust him with this?

Or maybe it wasn’t trust at all. Maybe he just didn’t care to tell Venti. Maybe Venti had been wrong this whole time—mistaking closeness for something more, threading meaning into things that were only ever surface-deep. The late-night talks. The teasing. The forehead flicks. The shared silence that always felt full.

All of it, Venti now realizes, could’ve just been nothing. Casual. Friendly. One-sided.

He sniffles. It starts there. Small. Then it unravels.

The tears spill quietly, painting blurred smudges athwart his vision. His lips quiver, and he hates that he can’t control it. He feels pathetic, utterly useless, curled up in someone’s bathroom like he’s fourteen and dejected for the first time. Maybe he is.

No one knows how much this hurts. No one sees this version of him—not even Xiao, who should’ve been the first to notice. The pain he’s kept silent has festered into something overpowering.

Why her? he wonders grievously. Why her and not me?

But he already knows the answer. Eula is everything he’s not. Graceful, radiant, composed. Untouchable. She belongs in the kind of life Xiao keeps behind locked doors. One that Venti’s never been allowed to touch.

He remembers the way Xiao spoke to her on the phone… Respectful, polite, tender. That wasn’t the way he spoke to Venti. Venti got the clipped remarks, the sarcasm, the eye-rolls. Eula got hospitality. Kindness.

And he’s jealous. Gods, he’s so fucking jealous it claws at him.

Venti scrubs his face with both palms, fingers digging into his cheeks as if he could just erase this emotion. “Fuck,” he breathes out, hoarsely and breaking. “Fuck.”

He hunches over the sink and throws up—sour, acidic, humiliating. He gags, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. His chest is still heaving, and his face feels hot and raw from sobbing. He turns the faucet on to rinse the sink, eyes unable to focus on the water dribbling away.

And then—

The door opens.

He’s too disoriented to shout, too dizzy to care. He expects to be annoyed. Mortified. But then he lifts his gaze to the mirror, and everything inside him lurches.

Xiao.

It’s Xiao, standing in the doorway with a frown carved into that stupidly beautiful face, eyebrows knitted, jaw clenched.

“What’s going on with you?” Xiao’s voice is compact, lined with worry. “Are you… crying? I’ve been here for an hour looking for you. Everyone has.”

Venti blinks. Dream. This has to be a dream. He stares harder, heart pummeling too fast.

“You’re not real,” he murmurs. “This… this is a dream. I’m hallucinating.”

“What—Venti, what are you talking about?”

He reaches forward and brushes his fingers against Xiao’s cheek, soft and warm and, in no uncertain terms, tangible. He shivers. “Why would I be explaining myself to you? You’re just a dream, aren’t you?” His voice is dainty, plodding. It’s the only way he can stop himself from falling apart again.

“You’re reeking of alcohol.”

“Yeah?” Venti sniggers weakly. “Even dream-Xiao is a nag. Nice.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Nooo,” he whimpers. “You don’t care, remember? Now move aside, I need to find my friends.”

He tries to shove past him, but a dense grip snags his arm—solid, bosom—and Venti is suddenly being hoisted off the floor. Strapping arms loop under his thighs, carrying him like he’s weightless.

Venti gasps, startled, then relaxes. The scent hits him; clean, tepid, indubitably Xiao—and he lets out a mellow, palpitating breath.

“I told you not to drink too much.”

“You did?” Venti mumbles. “I can’t r-remember…” His breath hitches. Another hiccup. His heart’s pounding, not from the alcohol, but from being this close to the one person he’s been trying to run from all night.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m taking you home.”

Home.

The word cleaves to him. Venti clings tighter, burying his face in this…Xiao’s neck.

“Home… Where’s home?” he purls. “The only home I know is with Xiao…”

There’s a pause. A beat of silence that vibrates between them.

“…Xiao, huh?”

“Yeah.” His voice is fading now, twining into something gooey. “He’s my home. He always has been.”

And then, serenely, Venti closes his eyes.

**

The next time Venti blinks his eyes open, he’s no longer in the loud haze of the party but seated in the passenger seat of a car. It’s dark outside—purely streetlights sweeping past in laggy fluorescents, protruding fleeting shadows across his lap.

He blinks once. Twice.

The driver’s seat.

Xiao.

Venti’s heart spikes and climbs right up his throat. His mouth is parched, his head fuzzy, but somehow his eyes still manage to mist with tears he didn’t know were coming. He gawks at Xiao, the guy appearing placated, unruffled, indifferent, and suddenly everything inside him constricts.

“Why?” he croaks helplessly. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking. Why are you here? Why didn’t you tell me? Why is it always you, even when I’m falling apart?

But Xiao doesn’t serve, not at first. His eyes are on the road, hands on the wheel, knuckles taut-pale around the leather.

So Venti asks again, harsher this time, voice breaking as another tear rolls down his cheek. “Why, Xiao? Why are you here?”

A sigh. Heavy. Meagerly audible over the thrum of the car. Then: “I just knew this would happen. So I came early.”

You came for me.

“And… whose car is this?” Venti asks, a sudden bitterness rising like bile.

“Scaramouche’s.”

Right. Of course it is.

Venti swallows the knot in his throat, another tear falling freely. “What about the others? Ganyu, Hu Tao, everyone else? Why are we leaving them?”

“They’re fine,” Xiao replies curtly. “Everyone knows how to hold their liquor, Venti. Even Ganyu’s barely tipsy. You’re the only one who drank yourself into oblivion.”

There’s frustration in his voice. Not loud—but truncated and excruciating, like the edge of a blade.

Venti flinches as Xiao slams one hand against the wheel, not even shouting, but the gesture is sufficient, jerking something deep in him. The truth of it wedges through—he’s right. Venti was the only one who couldn’t hold it together. The only one who malfunctioned. The only one who needed saving.

And it burns.

His chest is a storm of shame and rage and grief, bubbling and dredging to escape. So he bites down on it. On everything.

“Fuck you,” he mutters, shaking like a leaf, voice discreet now. Angrier. “Who are you to boss me around, huh? You’re not my dad. You’re not my boyfriend. You’re not anyone. You should’ve just stayed at the damn party with your new girlfriend.”

Xiao jerks his head, blinking and biting a terse, “What?”

“I said,” Venti’s voice climbs, breath hitching, “go back to Eula! Isn’t she waiting for you? Isn’t she your precious secret you’ve been hiding from me all this time?”

“What the fuck are you even saying right now—”

“I’M YOUR BEST FRIEND!” Venti screams, quaking mad in his seat, hands balled up on his lap. “I’m supposed to know things about you! I’m supposed to be the one you trust! But no, right? I’m nothing to you now, huh?! Just some roommate you share chores with! Some washed-up past! Why didn’t you tell me, Xiao?!”

The silence that comes after is so loud, it rattles Venti’s skull.

Xiao’s grip on the wheel is white-knuckled. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” Venti snarls, and with fumbling fingers, he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Then tell me I’m wrong! Say it to my face, look me in the fucking eye and say it!”

And Xiao… does something Venti doesn’t expect.

The car swerves violently to the side, tires screeching as he pulls them onto the curb. Venti gasps as he’s jostled forward by momentum, only to be shoved back against the seat by Xiao’s clasp.

The next second, Xiao is unbuckling his own seatbelt, turning to him with a look that isn’t anger—it’s something immeasurable. Darker. More desperate.

“You never shut up, do you?” he mutters under his breath.

And then he kisses him.

There’s no warning—no softening. Just a hand cradling the back of his head and Xiao’s mouth crashing into his, raw and reckless and breathless. It takes a heartbeat for Venti to register what’s happening. That this is unfeigned. That Xiao is kissing him.

And that he’s kissing back.

The world stills. The noise in his chest, the whirlwind in his brain, the grief, the confusion—it all pauses as he melts into Xiao’s mouth, into his arms, into every bit of this moment that feels like it’s been waiting years to happen.

Xiao is trembling too. Venti can feel it in the way his fingers dig into the fabric of his jacket, the way his breath stutters between kisses.

Then they pull apart—by a whisker.

“I…” Venti’s broach is a breath. A thought. “I don’t… understand…”

“You’re not supposed to,” Xiao whispers, eyes half-lidded and glassy. “Not yet. Just… shut up for once, Venti. Let me do something right for you.”

And Venti—fuddled and dizzy and shattered—lets himself fall.

Because if this is a mistake, let it be the one he makes with the person who already ruined him.

Xiao, whose hand traces Venti’s spine, laboriously, stoutly, anchoring him, drawing them impossibly closer. His other hand cradles Venti’s face, thumb brushing across the curve of his cheekbone with a reverence that feels entirely out of place for how breathless and wild this kiss has become. Their mouths press harder, heads angling in tandem, like they’ve done this a thousand times before… in reveries neither dared to speak of.

When Xiao’s tongue ghosts over Venti’s bottom lip, miry and curious, Venti opens without a second thought, surrendering to the hilt. Whatever Xiao wants, he can have.

And Xiao… tastes like cherries in syrup. It floors him. Sweet and out of the blue, like something meant to tarry. And wow, Venti wants to taste it forever.

He’s floating, invaded by heat and sensation and the sound of Xiao’s breath hitching tacitly in his throat, supposing Venti’s touch undoes him. And it’s mutual. Every brush of lips, every nip and pull… every meek purr against his mouth sends sparks skittering down Venti’s spine.

He wraps his arms around Xiao like it’s instinct, like this is how it’s always ought to be—close, dolorous, tangled. Their kiss turns heady. Venti kisses back with something ravenous, something afraid, something that’s waited far too long to be let out. He can’t stop now. He doesn’t want to stop. Because for once, the longing in his chest isn’t met with silence.

This is concrete. This is him. The one he’s wanted for years. Xiao, kissing him like the world might collapse if they don’t keep touching.

He feels himself drowning in it, gasping softly against Xiao’s lips, a small, unintentional moan betraying just how thwarted he is. Done for. He needs more—more of this, more of Xiao, just more.

And Xiao… Xiao doesn’t hedge. The hands that roam Venti’s back now dip beneath the hem of his sweater, fingers splaying over warm skin, eliciting a shudder from him that feels like his bones are made of crystal. Xiao explores with seeming deference and hunger, at the rate he’s going, as though he’s mapping out something precious. Something he’s missed. Something he wants to memorize.

Their mouths never stop moving, Xiao guiding the cadence, pulling away solely to lean in again, deepening the kiss, claiming every ounce of Venti’s breath and thought. Venti lets him. Gladly. Because this—this is his first kiss, and it’s Xiao who’s giving it to him. Stealing it. Owning it.

And gods, if Venti could live in this moment forever, he would.

By the time they part, it’s with labored breath and swollen lips, foreheads not far from touching, a fragile strand of quietude binding them as they stare at each other. Disheveled, flushed, unhitched.

Xiao’s gaze is dark, unintelligible, pupils blown wide, lips kiss-bitten and glistening. Venti studies him like he’s art: the deranged sweep of his bangs, the flutter of his lashes, the fire simmering behind golden eyes. He looks like he wants him. Like he’s wanted him for a while. How?

“Xiao…” Venti breathes, dazed.

But Xiao only narrows his eyes, fingers lifting—he snaps them near Venti’s face.

“How many fingers?” he asks, of all things.

Seriously? Now? Venti blinks, but obliges. “Two.”

Xiao’s grip shifts to his chin, his gaze scanning Venti’s eyes. “Are you sober enough to know what you’re doing?”

“I am,” Venti groans, flopping back against the seat with a sulk. “Why?”

“Because we’re going home.”

And it’s the way he says it—low, rough, commanding—that has a tremor rattle down Venti’s spine. Something about how Xiao stares at him then, like a switch has flipped.

No protest comes from him. He buckles up.

The drive is quiet. The world slides past in a fog of shadows and streetlamps, but Venti doesn’t look away from Xiao, and Xiao doesn’t look away from the road.

When they finally reach the dorms, the ambience is glacial enough that Venti furls into himself, shivering. Xiao grabs his wrist and pulls him up the stairs in reticence, their footsteps sonorous against the marble. His pulse thuds in his ears.

He’s sober now. Not a trace of alcohol fogging his head. Just wanting. Just nerves and skin flushed from memory.

Xiao’s hands fumble with the keys, jittery. Not quite as smooth as usual, and Venti catches the tingle.

And then the door unlocks, and Xiao barely waits for it to swing open before he’s scooping Venti off his feet like he weighs nothing, causing a startled squeak to escape from Venti’s throat.

He clutches him instinctively as Xiao kicks the door shut behind them, carries him to the sofa, and lays him down with surprising gentleness, as if… he’s afraid of breaking him.

No words. Just their breath, their gazes. Xiao hovers, silhouetted by the city outside, staring down at Venti like he’s something sacred. Like he’s worth worship.

…Venti reaches up without thinking, fingers brushing his sleeve—silent permission.

Xiao doesn’t swither, simply leans down, meets his lips again, and this time, it’s slower. Deeper. Possessive.

And Venti feels owned. Claimed. Adored.

Xiao’s hand circles his wrist, not hard, just enough to make him stay, to keep him grounded—you’re mine, it says, you’re not going anywhere.

And… Venti doesn’t want to.

He’s waited years to be wanted like this.

And tonight, he finally is.

“Xiao…” he breathes, desire feather-soft between kisses, his mouth chasing after the other’s with quiet thirst. This kiss—it’s profound, heavier. It devours him. Xiao’s lips press hard and sure against his own, tongue coaxing his open with maddening ease, guiding him in that laggard, polished way that leaves Venti lightheaded, breath stuttering.

Xiao slots between his thighs, knees pressing into the cushions, forearms braced around Venti’s head. Their combined weight dips into the center of the couch as though it, too, gives in to the gravity pulling them together. Venti feels it in every part of his body—the traction, the way Xiao’s fragrance floods his nose, the brush of silky strands tickling his face. It’s overwhelming, it’s provoking, it’s everything.

And it’s fervent. Authentic.

After years of pining and hiding every raw thread of his longing, Venti is here, beneath Xiao, wrapped in him, and finally being kissed like it means something. Like he means something.

Their mouths part only for Xiao to kiss along Venti’s jaw, down the pale column of his throat, warm breath skating against sensitive skin. His lips remain at the crook of Venti’s neck, where he nips and soothes in turns—and Venti arches into it, already leaking need between his thighs, the heat swirling in his gut too potent to ignore.

Xiao pauses. Just long enough to pull back and yank his shirt over his head, flinging it aside. The moonlight spills over his body, seizing the sharp lines of his arms, the clean dips of his waist. He looks carved, ethereal and palpable all at once, and Venti swallows the knot in his throat.

Xiao helps him out of his sweater and jacket, fingers careful and considerate. Venti shivers under his touch—not from cold, but from the force of the moment. It’s evocative. Intimate. Reverent.

And then Xiao is bare-chested, breathing moor, those golden eyes sweeping over Venti’s face. The air between them goes still. It feels devout.

“You…” Venti murmurs, devastatingly awed. “You look so good, Xiao…”

Xiao doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t smirk or tease or look away. Instead, he just…mitigates, visibly. It’s the kind of softness that doesn’t need words. He leans in, plants a kiss to Venti’s cheek, and murmurs back, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

That’s all it takes—Venti’s chest bursts open with something that feels too big to carry.

When Xiao climbs off him, Venti doesn’t panic like he normally would, nor shrink beneath the exposure or awkwardness. He watches him go, entranced, as Xiao disappears down the hall—naked, nonplussed, beautiful. Venti is speechless, a little astonished, the wanton curling chasmic and clinched in his belly.

It cuffs him like a tsunami: this is truly happening. Xiao is his first kiss, and tonight… he’s going to be his first everything.

Xiao returns with a bottle in hand; impertinent, overt, and telling. The sight (the implication) alone has Venti’s ears flaring, heart sprinting to match his tempest. No one else could ever be his first, he thinks. He saved it all for this. For this man.

Without a word, Xiao settles beside him, fingers skimming Venti’s waistband. Their eyes meet—clammed up, zealous—and he doesn’t move until Venti consents, allowing him to.

He undresses Venti slowly… as if longingly, as if each inch of exposed skin is a story he wants to read by touch. And when Venti’s cock is freed, leaking at the tip, his breath catches in his throat. Embarrassment sparks, but Xiao’s gaze never wavers. There’s no goading, no arrogant quip—essentially balmy acceptance. Want, maybe, but stifled. Measured.

Xiao’s hand wraps around him with impossible gentleness, his fingers solidified but heedful, calloused from years of photographing, playing the guitar, drawing, building.

Venti exhales a broken sound, eyes fluttering shut. He can’t help it. Xiao touches like he’s sculpting something sacred. It’s almost too much.

He teeters when Xiao pauses, lips parted like he wants to say something. And then, softly:

“Will you be alright, Venti?”

The words sound nothing like the guy who once scolded him for burning rice, or the guy who rolled his eyes at every failed attempt at poetry. No—this is something else. There’s nervousness, there’s care. There’s love.

Venti meets his gaze, and he knows… right then, right there… that whatever happens after this moment, it’s not just lust. It’s not just a fling. Xiao would never be careless with him.

He breathes out, “Yeah.”

That’s all it takes.

Xiao slicks his fingers with lube, movements meticulous and unfussy. He doesn’t rush. One hand steadies Venti’s thigh while the other trails lower, circling the entrance with a touch so featherlight it makes Venti shiver.

The first press is tentative, circumspect, and Venti inhales sharply, fingers looping into the couch cushions. It’s strange, a little overwhelming, but Xiao is whispering something benign and soothing, and Venti finds himself easing into it, opening to him.

Their eyes never stop meeting. Xiao stays right there with him, guiding, adjusting, ensuring he’s okay at every step. He treats Venti like something precious. Not breakable, but treasured.

And Venti clings to that. To every kiss shared between breathless gasps, to every whispered reassurance Xiao gives him.

Soon, the room is filled with the squelching of the couch, their quiet panting, of two people discovering each other with soaring need. With desperation held at bay by devotion. Touches grow bolder, kisses ardent. Each sound is encased in short-winded intimacy, each minute molding into something impossible to name.

Venti feels disentangled in the best way, escorted by hands that know how to make him feel safe even while everything inside him kindles.

He’s never been touched like this before. Not just in body, but in soul.

And when Xiao finally draws him in completely, moving cautiously, Venti gasps out loud. In pleasure, in disbelief. Xiao kisses him through it, murmurs his name like a prayer, and all Venti can do is hold on.

This isn't just sex. This is an untwisting of years. Of longing. Of friendship turned something much more extreme.

Closing his eyes, arms wrapped around the only person he’s ever wanted, Venti thinks:

This is what it feels like to be loved back.

**

With his vision swimming, Venti blinks through his lashes, narrowly making out Xiao’s hands working the bottle open. Cool gel glistens in the moonlight before Xiao sets it down, fingers slicked and ready. The action makes Venti suck in a breath.

Then he feels it. The first tentative press of a finger breaching him. Brumal, labored, chary. Venti’s mouth parts with a puff, the intrusion bizarre but not unendurable. He breathes through it, eyes flapping shut as Xiao works him open.

The second finger follows, slipping in beside the first. Venti’s legs twitch, unbidden, a mellow whimper tumbling from his lips—but Xiao is there in an instant, lowering himself beside his ear. Warm, his words falling like balm over frayed nerves.

“You’re okay,” Xiao whispers, threading his fingers through Venti’s hair. “You’re doing so well, Venti… It’s just new, that’s all. You’ll adjust. I’ve got you.”

Gods. Even now, Xiao is like this—attentive and unshakably composed. And Venti, despite everything, can’t help but wonder, has Xiao ever done this to himself? Is that how he knows what to say? The thought makes Venti flush, a pang of hankering cutting deep.

He’s done it to himself before, too. Lonely nights, bottle by the bed, hands between his thighs, moaning Xiao’s name in the dark. It never came close to this.

Because this—this is real.

Xiao takes his time, stroking and stretching him with the kind of care that borders on veneration, until Venti’s thighs stop writhing, until his breath comes easier. Only then does he pull away to reach for the bottle again.

And when he slicks himself up—when Venti finally sees it—he can’t look away.

Xiao, crouched between his thighs, focused and flushed, coating himself in smooth strokes. The sight dries Venti’s mouth, sends his thoughts scattering. And then Xiao’s hands are on his hips, hefting, hooking his legs over strong shoulders and—

The moment he enters, Venti preens. Low and guttural. A raw sound, torn from somewhere cavernous in his chest. It’s so much. Too much. He’s full in a way he’s never been, walls squeezing around Xiao’s plodding thrust. It prickles, just a little, but he welcomes it, gasping for air when lips find his again, swallowing his moan with a kiss.

They move like that—tentative at first, all mouths and palpitating limbs, until Xiao rolls his hips again and Venti’s back arches into the leather couch.

Gods. This. This is what he’s imagined every time he touched himself and pretended it was Xiao. But now, it’s more—richer, bottomless, achingly real. Xiao is not some figment behind his eyelids, not a phantom he’ll wake up from. He’s here, inside him, kissing him like he wants to stay.

Each thrust grows more confident, a pattern building between them that has Venti melting under him, mewling every time Xiao hits just right. His breath is caught in their space, lips parted, fingers twisting in the fabric beneath. Xiao holds his wrists in one hand, pinning them over his head, the other trailing down to explore the curve of his waist, the quake of his hip.

“You feel incredible,” Xiao murmurs, voice gravelled from restraint. “You’re doing so good for me, Venti…”

Venti doesn’t trust himself to speak—only nods, cheeks damp, stunned by the sounds Xiao makes, by the way he looks above him, eyes molten with something that might just be exalt.

The slick gnash of the couch under them turns into a kind of music. Familiar. Intimate. It joins the whisper of skin against skin, the erratic hitch of breath, the soft slap of motion.

And then, Xiao leans down again, lips brushing Venti’s ear as he murmurs something only they will ever hear—and Venti chokes on a sob.

His stomach coils tight, heat searing through him, undoing him from the inside. He’s close. Too close. He tries to hold on, but Xiao doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter. Just keeps moving, fucking into him with the same steady devotion he’s always shown in every part of their friendship, but now laced with something exposed. Honest.

And when he finally tips over the edge, Venti breaks. Cries out, back bending as white-hot pleasure splinters through him. His release paints his chest, hot and wet, and it’s followed by Xiao’s groan—low, almost as if pained—as he spills into him, deep and full.

The world stills.

Only their ragged breaths remain, the whirring of the refrigerator in their kitchen, and the mumbling of the wind against the windowpane.

Venti doesn’t know how long they stay like that, tangled, but he knows this much: he never wants to move.

He lets his eyes close for a moment, heart pounding unwittingly. A breath later, Xiao transposes, pulling out with care, and Venti whines at the loss. He hardly registers Xiao leaving the room.

When he returns, Venti can only crack one eye open. Xiao is wiping him down with a lukewarm cloth, not a word spoken, just the soft swipes across his skin and the demure press of a blanket pulled over their bodies.

Then a kiss, romantic and sure, is dropped on his mouth. “Sleep,” Xiao whispers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Venti’s heart twists, clenching painfully at the quiet pledge in those words.

He breathes in their collective scent—sweat, lube, salt, home—and lets the evening lull him.

Before sleep claims him, he thinks, This is love, isn’t it?

If so, it doesn’t scare him.

[yakdeculture]

Granblue Fantasy Relink Review

Okay guys here's the thing. I don't really play the gatcha game lets get that out of the way. You ask me to post grid I'm getting scared. Idk what means like my weapons? I just log in for free rolls man I've had an account for 6 years and I'm on chapter 19 I don't think I read a damn word of the story. I know the popular women I know there's a stupid little fucking twink guy and there's like 5 of him an sometimes he has brown hair but other times he has white hair and hes likes saber fate stay night but for fujoshis but Idk his name and I don't want to know. All that to say I pretty much have no business playing this game. I bought it because my friend tweeted "theres a milf in relink" and i thought it would be funny to reply to that with a receipt of me buying the game. So yeah I went into this with barely any knowledge at all about this series in terms of what the hell is actually going on.

That said if people were being fr about there being people who think the game's story is bad because it's confusing or doesn't explain enough then I don't get where that's coming from. To be honest I kind of thing that idea was made up because some of y'all are way too fucking bored online and you have to invent discord so you put on your little FBI or CIA cap and you say lets go find some completely random idiot off the side of the street who will literally say anything at all so we can qrt them and act like this is a commonly held opinion. Sorry for the tangent but you know what I mean? Like someone will qrt like the craziest person you've ever fucking seen OR a 15 year old and act like whatever they said was the normal default opinion. Listen no offense but I'm 25 if a kid is wrong on the internet its not my fucking problem and I'm not wasting my time thinking about what they think about anything. Randoms do not exist to me. I have no interest in arguing anything at all with anyone. I am happy to give my analysis on some things if I am asked but I don't just think about this shit unprompted.

Anyways with that out of the way yeah the story is very beginner friendly not at all confusing in pretty much any way and also the gameplay goes fucking hard so yeah this is an awesome game. So every I've written everything I've just said before I beat the game, I'm on chapter 8 right now but I can think without having beat it I know the gameplay is fire I know the story as at the very least understandable and is probably pretty good, I don't know how it ends but I've thought it was pretty good so far. Pretty much the only way you could argue this game expects you to have played the gatcha is in the sense they don't try to spend like too much time building up the relationships between the characters, they pretty much just tell you what they are, show them to you in action with like a cute little dialogue scene before the game really start then its kinda like okay you should get the point we can move on now and I think that's true. Like what the fuck else were they gonna do did you want Granblue Origins. Did you want Granblue Fantasy The Animation The Game as a little intro? Look I would play the first however many chapter of the gatcha story as a game like this who wouldn't but I don't think this game is missing anything that prevents you from enjoying the cast. You get the vibes they pass you the joint and you smoke that shit. It's that simple.

Finished the main story, pretty much my only complaint is they fake like its gonna end like 4 times. Like I got places to be man you can't keep doing this you have to end eventually. But yeah the story was great this game has some fantastic set pieces and fights. I don't know how much of a most game this game has, I imagine it must be a lot because you end the game at like level 50 and you can go up to 100 so there must be more shit to do. I don't know if I'm gonna do all that to be honest idk how much I would get out of it. Not saying I'm gonna immediately uninstall the game or anything but I got what I came for and now I'm not sure how much of what is left to do was designed for me considering I was mostly interested in doing the story and meeting the characters and stuff. But hey great game.

[jinisnuggets]

Haikyuu character cute scenarios

Pt.1

Karasuno

Hinata

Scenario count: 4

You and Hinata are eating Ice-cream after school, since you and Hinata are still friends you decide to give him a small hug, since he ✨Likes you✨

After you guys begin dating he always likes to back hug you when you don't see him, and if you tell him that he scared you, he will make a cute little pouty face.

Tanaka would type in all caps in the team group chat that you are also in "HINATA AND Y/N SITTING ON A TREE, K-I-S---" and Nishinoya would probably join him.

Your first date was a picnic date 🌸 he wanted to kiss you

Sugawara

Scenario count: 5

You were the first one to like him and someone from the team told him that and he was what "Excuses me-?"

He started seeing you as more then a sister since then.

He confessed to you on Valentine's day with bringing you a bag of your favorite things and told you he liked you.

Suga would get really nervous or shy when someone brings you up to him.

He normally calls you every night and you have to get used to hearing "Have you studied?" As his hello.

Tadashi

Scenario count: 5

He was so nervous around you ALL the time. When you guys got closer, he viewed you so much as his sister.

He would get hurt very easily 🥲

Many times he would ask you in text or in person "Are we still friends?"

He started liking you after he noticed you're the only one who makes him feel truly the way he does around you.

He always complements you with things like "You look really pretty today" or "I really like your hair."

Nekoma

Kenma

Scenario count: 5

He would view you as a sister too, mostly because he feels very comfortable around you.

He wouldn't really feel much for you until he realizes you're the only one who accepts him for who he is.

He would tell you sorry a lot because he feels bad for bothering you.

Your first date would be to a 🎰Arcade🎰

Kuroo would send you pictures of him in the corner playing games and ✨ sleep pics of him ✨

You guys wouldn't kiss for the first 2-4 months of your relationship.

✨ I like Kenma too so we're buddies ✨

Kuroo

Scenario count: 4

Man would like to call you Chan or Kohai

He would probably do anything in order to tell people you guys are a 🌸 thing 🌸

He would always say "Have you eaten?"

He would take funny close up pictures of himself and them to you, it's his way of saying "Hey", "Watcha doing?", "I'm bored" etc.

Yaku

Scenario count: 6

"By the time I get back, you better not be on that stupid phone anymore!"

He would be a very strict 'older brother'

If you don't give him enough attention he will throw a fit, when he says words like that you know he's serious.

He will often rub your cheeks and run his fingers though your hair in order to make you fall asleep.

Despite being short, he gets very protective over you.

You can vent to him as much as you want. He will always be there listening.

Fukorodani

Bokuto

Scenario count: 5

Too energetic of a crushy-wushy.

He would send videos of him and Kuroo in oversized hoodies with the tight hoods over their heads dancing to random songs and you can see poor Akaashi and Kenma in the back regretting all their life decisions.

Cuddles to sleep ✨✨✨

He would call you in the middle of the night asking if you still love him.

You and Akaashi are the only ones who can take care of his emo-mode.

Konaha

Scenario count: 4

Teaser bf 🌸

He would tease you all the time, "Wow you're so short", "yn, please, stop being so stupid."

He would hug you from behind or keep you from kissing him just to tease, if you like reading books he would take your book from you.

Very passionate and responsible but also very immature.

Haha, I accidentally posted this before I was even finished with it 😂

[scuttling]

Animals

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 2,766 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Insecure reader, Crushes, Some very public secret touching, Fingering, Pool sex, Unprotected sex Summary: Based on this prompt from anon: "Reader in a red skimpy bikini at one of rossi’s pool parties trying to get hotch to loosen up….what happens when she gets a little too close when they’re swimming in the pool?" I uh 🥵 Link to A03 or read below! Going to Rossi’s for dinner as a team has to be one of your favorite things in life. There is always good food, good drink, teasing and grinning and laughter; you all get to decompress, destress, enjoy each other’s company as people and not because someone’s life depends on it.

You get to see Hotch as a person, too, and that’s kind of the best part. He’s the one who needs to relax and unwind more than anyone, so when he’s there with you all, casually dressed, softer, and quick to smile, it’s no wonder you… feel things.

You’re not an animal. You can feel things without acting on those feelings; you are more than your instincts. So what if you get butterflies in your stomach when he offers to pour you more wine? So what if your breathing picks up when he’s so close you can feel his breath on your neck? So what if you end these nights at home, alone in your bed, wishing he was beside you, inside you? He’s still off limits.

Your body’s reactions to him are normal, chemical, biological, and pointless, because he could be standing half naked in front of you and you would still be able to control yourself. You are a brain that happens to be in a body, not a body that happens to have a brain.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself when Rossi invites everyone over, not for dinner, but an evening pool party.

A pool party. Fuck.

You are one hundred percent apprehensive, but for two different reasons. One is that you are a little self-conscious, and you prefer jeans and t-shirts over any other clothing; wearing a swimsuit in front of your coworkers seems extremely daunting. The other reason is that seeing Hotch in his swimsuit might actually be more terrifying, because you talk a big game about being able to control yourself, but if presented with his hot body, dripping wet, maybe his hair slicked back, a drop of water on his nose...

You take a deep breath, blow it out slowly. You’re just going to tell them you feel sick and can’t make it. Probably no one will care anyway.

You’re just gathering your things to leave work for the weekend, preparing to smile sadly and tell your lie, when Hotch appears at your side, his bag slung over his shoulder. He’s leaving work on time for once; it’s a freaking miracle.

“You’re coming to Rossi’s, right?” he asks softly, and you get those goddamn butterflies. You smile, not sadly.

“Yeah, definitely. I need to go home and get my swimsuit, though. I think I have one... somewhere.” It’s been a while since you had a vacation; wherever it is, you hope it still fits. He swallows, nods.

“Right, of course. I’ll see you there, then.” He brushes a hand carefully over your shoulder and passes you, heads for the door. You take another deep breath.

You are not an animal.

Right?

You arrive at Rossi’s house last, because you spent so long looking in the mirror, trying to convince yourself to just accept the way the swimsuit fits.

The only one you could find was from college, a little red string bikini, and since your body is obviously different now, it’s a little too small. You’re mostly covered, though, except for your ass, and no one is going to be paying much attention anyway. These people are like your brothers and sisters—or in Rossi’s case, your fun uncle—with the exception of Hotch, but you know he’s not going to be looking.

You walk into the backyard in your coverup, a cute black and white tunic, and everyone is swimming but JJ and Hotch. JJ is standing off to the side, phone at her ear, and Hotch is sitting on a lounge chair, not lounging at all. His spine looks rigid, but you can’t imagine why.

“Beer, my dear?” Rossi calls, holding up his own Corona. “Over by Hotch.” You smile and head toward him, bending to reach into the cooler for a drink; he looks a little more comfortable when he sees you, and says hello. You reply, then lift the bottom of your tunic to try to twist off the bottle cap, to no avail.

“Here, let me,” he says, reaching for your bottle, and he wraps his t-shirt around it, pops it open and hands it back.

“Thanks.” You take a long sip, your head tilted back; after all the self-scrutiny, you feel like you earned this one. “Why aren’t you swimming?”

“I will; didn’t feel like it yet,” he says, looking up at you, and you put a hand on your hip.

“Only you would come to a pool party and not swim, Hotch. Live a little.” You take another long sip, if you can call it that—the bottle is half empty already—and then set it down on the table, pull your tunic over your head. Might as well undress where fewer people are paying attention. “Come on,” you say, reaching out a hand. “I will if you will.”

He looks you over like he thinks you’re crazy or something, staring at you for a long moment, and then nods, lets you pull him up to standing. He tugs his shirt off too, and you do your best not to stare, because he is even hotter than you’d imagined, his chest broad and strong, arms strong too, and there’s a trail of hair disappearing beneath his swim trunks that you would like to explore with your mouth. You take a calming breath, turn to head for the edge of the pool, and he follows behind you; Derek looks up and whistles, and you feel yourself flush hot.

“Okay, Baywatch,” he calls with a grin, “come toward me again, but this time run in slow motion.” You roll your eyes and remind yourself not to try to cover up. If he sees you nervous, it’s just going to get that much worse.

“Shut up. It’s the only one I had,” you reply, and you look back at Hotch, who’s just standing there behind you and not saying anything. It’s like he’s afraid to get too close to the pool, or something; no way a big bad FBI guy is scared of water, right?

You get in the pool, and it feels blissfully good on this 80+ degree day, even though the sun is down; you dunk your head just to get it over with, before someone does it for you, and when you come up, you hum happily and rub your wet hair back out of your face.

You look at Hotch, who is sitting on the edge with his feet in the pool. It’s a total cop out, and you swim over to him and carefully put your hands on his legs beneath the water. He looks down at you seriously and doesn’t move.

“Come on, all the way in. For me.” He wets his lips, and you’re about 80% sure he’s going to ignore you, so you just let go of his legs and back away; he absolutely surprises you by dropping into the water with a splash. He goes under, pops up and shakes his wet hair, droplets clinging to his shoulders. You laugh out loud and give him a shove, glad, again, that you’d chosen to submerge yourself already.

“Are you happy now?” he asks, voice dry, but with a playful smile, and you nod and smile as well. Yes, you’re happy, maybe a little happier than you should be: you can feel that your nipples are hard beneath the thin material of the bikini top. Your stupid body is sending signals, and you’re entering the danger zone, your brain and body fighting for dominance; your stupid body may be winning.

Do not engage, your brain repeats when you look at wet Hotch, a sight to behold, all big and drippy and firm; your body whispers in your ear like the devil on your shoulder, just go for it—he will feel really good—what’s the worst that could happen?

“Yes,” is all you say, moving closer to him even though there’s a warning bell going off in your brain. Do not engage!! “All I wanted was for you to loosen up a little, to relax.” You’re less than a foot from him, and no one is paying either of you any attention, busy playing with an inflatable beach ball or singing along to the radio or drifting around on a lounge float. You two might as well be the only people in the world, or at least that’s how it feels.

“I’m… loose,” he says, his voice low and rough, and something about it makes you feel less inhibited, like maybe it’s not just you who wants this; your hand brushes his waist, and then his hand brushes your hip, and then you lean closer and your leg brushes…

Very loose indeed, if loose equals horny, because that’s definitely not a gun in his trunks and he’s definitely happy to see you.

“Sorry,” you breathe, but you don’t feel sorry. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and you brush him more purposefully this time: your thigh against his bulging cock.

Do not engage!!

“Don’t be,” he replies eventually, and then it’s your hand moving of its own accord, palming him, big and hard. He closes his eyes, wets his lips. You want to bite his throat, to lick it, to get your hand down his shorts and feel him; you’re about to do that, your fingers slipping past the elastic, his breath hitching, and then the beach ball smacks down in the water right beside the two of you and you jump apart, startled.

“Sorry!” Emily calls, and Hotch bats the ball back over to them, and then you just look at each other. Was that a close call you never mention again, or…?

Now or never, your body says. He was about to let you put your hand in his pants. Try it again.

You are not an animal.

You try it again.

This time, you make it past the waistband, and you wrap your fingers around his dick. It’s thick, and hot, and smooth, and he reaches out a hand to grip your waist hard, his eyes boring into yours. You wet your lips, move your fingers to the head, rub it, and then you stroke him three times just to see what he looks like when you do.

He’s gorgeous, unsurprisingly, his eyes lidded and his chest heaving, and you rub him softly one more time and then withdraw your hand; apparently you’re cool with groping your boss in the same pool as the rest of your coworkers, but an actual orgasm is where you draw the line.

You are also breathing heavy, so turned on you’re almost shaking with need, and then Hotch reaches down and slides his hand inside your swimsuit bottoms, rubs the pads of two fingers along your slit. It takes everything you have not to moan at his touch, especially when he dips lower, prods at your opening where you are already slick. He takes a deep breath, and it looks like he’s fighting for strength too, which makes you feel a little better.

At least you’re both animals, now.

He pulls back only to get his hand on your ass, to squeeze it so hard your body shifts forward. You look up at him, and he looks down at you, and everything that needs to be said is said with your eyes.

You drift apart a little bit, but you still feel the ghost of his touch and maybe always will.

You float around, and talk a little; you get out to finish your beer, to grab you both another, and now that you know he’s into you, you maybe make climbing out look a little sexy. When you ease back in, hand him his bottle, he makes eye contact while he wraps his lips around it and takes a long drink.

Eventually, the others interact with the two of you, and it feels so strange to pretend that you and Hotch didn’t just fucking fondle each other fifteen feet away. It also feels really dirty, and that only serves to make you wetter. The glances he’s shooting you don’t help that situation much, either.

Garcia and Emily are the first to leave, and then Reid, until the only ones left are the two of you, Derek, and JJ. JJ says goodbye, heads out, and then Derek gets ready to leave. Rossi says he’ll walk him out, that he’s going to turn in, but that you and Hotch are welcome to stay as long as you like, and to just please lock the front door when you go.

“Couldn’t get you to get in, now can’t get you to get out,” Derek teases Hotch; you preen a little, because you know you’re the cause of both, and when Derek and Rossi leave, the air becomes thick with tension again. You open your mouth but don’t know what to say.

It’s Hotch who actually speaks first.

“I’ve thought about doing that for a very long time,” he murmurs, and you move closer to him, get your hands on his waist again. “You are so fucking beautiful, all the time, but in that bikini… were you just trying to tempt me?” he asks, a sincere question, and you shake your head.

“It’s really the only one I own. I got it in college, so it’s a little small now,” you explain, and he chuckles, soft and low.

“Well then, I guess I’m glad you don’t swim much, because you’re absolutely breathtaking. I was having a very hard time keeping my hands off of you, so I’m glad that you… initiated.” He puts his hands on your ass, pulls you closer, and you wrap your legs around his hips, your arms around his neck.

“Me too. I’ve wanted you for longer than I can remember, you’re so fucking perfect.” You bring a hand to his wet hair and guide him down for a deep, steamy kiss, rubbing against his hard-on and moaning softly, since you can, now. “I want you, Hotch.”

“I need you,” he says, and that’s so much hotter; you reach between you to push down his shorts, taking him in your hand and stroking him again while he holds you up, and then you ease your bottoms to the side and guide him inside you, moaning and tipping your head back when he presses in. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, and you cling to him, kiss him harder, and move in his arms.

“Oh, god, Hotch,” you breathe against his lips, working your hips against his thrusts. “You feel so good, so big and hard and good.” He groans, buries his face in your neck, and pumps up into you roughly, like he’s getting close already.

God, this is amazing, pure fucking, the outcome of being up to your eyeballs in sexual tension—you’re connecting the dots now, seeing how some things you thought were innocent between the two of you were absolutely not—and when he comes he pounds hard inside you, and you dig your nails into his neck and bounce on him until he groans and slides out, sensitive.

“Oh, wow,” he exhales, and then he turns so you’re up against the wall of the pool and lets you go, holding out his hands so you know to stay there. You stretch your arms out on either side of you, breathing hard, and he leans in, moves your top out of the way and sucks on a nipple, then reaches down and pushes your bottoms aside again, presses his fingers deep and fucks you with them.

“Hotch, oh, fuck.” He looks up at you through dark lashes, nips at your breast, and then lifts his mouth off and begs you to come until you do, practically strangling his fingers as you clench tight around him.

He pulls his hand away after getting you through it, fixes your suit and then his, and then pulls you back into his arms and kisses you for a long time, full of yearning and passion and satisfaction. You sigh against his mouth, touch his face, and offer for him to spend the night at your place.

He does, and you have sex on the kitchen counter, and in your bed, and then on the floor the next morning.

You animals. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce

[leoninefae]

Hello! Can you please tell me anything about capricorn rising at an aries degree? Your blog is my rising twin. :) Thanks!

hello and thank you for your ask! :)

CAPRICORN RISING IN ARIES DEGREE (13°)

The stoic, responsible and enterprising nature of Capricorn meets the assertive and energetic Ram, in the Venusian decan of Taurus.

With double the cardinal energy in their rising, these natives may often be described by astrologers as headstrong go-getters with a strong work ethic. This isn't completely false, as this rising and degree will likely slap some discipline into the native even if their Sun/Moon/Mars reside in more hedonistic or fickle signs. However, unless they have strong Aries placements elsewhere in their chart, the Venusian influence of the Taurus decan both "softens" the cardinal drive and strengthens their need for stability, preventing these natives from coming across as brash as one may normally expect of Arien influence, yet, this may consequently manifest as them being fiercely defensive of their possessions — it must not be forgotten that both the bull and ram possess horns. They are able to exercise more self-awareness and present themselves respectably in social settings but should watch out for being too set in their ways.  

🍃 More charismatic and has an underlying boldness to the otherwise lowkey Capricorn rising, yet less impulsive than 1° which can often lack forethought

🍃 "Take things as they are" type people but still “work hard to create my own reality” type people

🍃 Not deluded by their ambitions and can still stay realistic

🍃 Big on natural beauty, both in self/others and of the world

🍃 In great acceptance of their identity, even if people consider them "boring" by whatever standards, and are able to innately play to the strengths of their Sun + Moon placements:

e.g., if in mutable signs, acknowledges and embraces their chameleon-like / adaptable qualities rather than be unconsciously flaky or chaotic in a dysfunctional way, etc. 

🍃 Recognizes what it takes to succeed, but won’t lose themselves in order to fit in, or exaggerate themselves in such a way where they become a "character” of their own personality (like Leo and Gemini placements can be prone to doing)

🍃 Able to comfortably assert their personality yet still be relatable and agreeable to the masses, unlike Cap 25° that has an individuality that’s a little more niche

🍃 Usually gives an angular face with a prominent or defined jawline and a thinner + slightly wider set of lips (unless you have 1H Moon or multiple Cancer placements)

🍃 I have a theory that I want to do more research on but the house Aries falls in (4H) might also be more significant to you as a person (possibly also the 3H if Aries 13° falls before the 4H):

Aries 13° resting in 4H: more conscious of their home environment / family and can either be very protective of it or want to be independent from it, Cap ASC will probably want to be a provider for the family or have bigger influence over the family dynamic

Aries 13° resting in 3H: very communicative type of Cap ASC that’s also much more dynamic and assertive in terms of self-expression.

🍃 If they have more Venusian, Earth or Sagittarian influence, this is the Capricorn rising that's able to actually let go and have a good time outdoors or in nature with those they love (I'm talking road trips, campfires, and relaxing weekends at a cottage with friends)

🍃 If they have Aquarius or Capricorn Sun/Moon, Leo Sun/Mercury, Aries Moon or Virgo Sun/Moon/Mercury, it can indicate a "no bullshit" type person with a strong moral code

🔴 Other 13° Capricorn risings: Zac Efron, Lorde, Paul Newman

🔴 Random advice 🔴

If you are fixed sign dominant with a lack of mutable placements, learn to consider more viewpoints outside of your own as this rising can make you even more stubborn.

If you have more cardinal placements, you may be too eager to make things / results appear quicker than they’re able to so be sure to learn patience.

ANY PERSONAL THOUGHTS ARE WELCOME

Personal comment: cafeastrology considers the 13th degree to be a critical degree but I haven’t seen anyone explain this in more detail so if anyone knows anything about this please let me know!

[imthatchishiyasimp]

HELLOOOOO!!!

I'm freaking out this is my first post, like the first one shot I post and write about AIB and Chishiya.

I really hope you all like it, please please please tell me what you think about it and whatever you want to tell me.

It's long (4444 words), I know, but I hate small things because I get upset. It's very close to the story and it doesn't have lot's of changes, I wanted to try first to write about something I know. In the future I will write more original and new stuff. Also, I wanted to get used to the universe and to the characters first.

HAVE A NICE READ 💚

“THIS WAY TO THE GAME ARENA”

The sign flashes all around the city. I slowly walk towards the Toei Sendagaya block apartment, focused on the cube in my hands. Due to having no electricity, I’ve gotten used to pick random things from stores to entertain myself.

It’s still shocking to feel the city so silent and calm, and at the same time it feels terrifying. One would think that being that people die every day, the streets would be forgiving. You can’t even lower your guard now. Even since the first day, I’ve liked walking around the streets, checking out shops and random apartments. I kinda feel powerful, but it’s something that deep inside I know it’s just fake and limited. And I’m not giving up, but at least I’m going to enjoy now that I can, until ‘they’ decide that I’m not needed around anymore.

The tall complex shines between the bushes and buildings, its lights on every floor lighted on. I place myself a few meters hidden behind the stairs leading to the central lobby. From there, I sit and watch people climb the stairs. A couple of them look pretty scared and lost, showing signs of this being their first game. The rest all look shaken up but used to this. When it looks like no one else will come, I get up and get to the crowd around the phones.

There’s thirteen people waiting and all of them look at me while I pick the phone from the table. When the facial recognition is finished I can see that there’s only a few seconds left for the game to start. Almost didn’t make it. Would have been stupid to die because I was daydreaming.

‘Move aside’ I say to Chishiya, elbowing him after not having a response. He looks at me annoyed and slips off his earphones. He finally moves to let me place my back at the wall and get my hair in a bun.

“REGISTRATION HAS CLOSED. THERE ARE A TOTAL OF 14 PARTICIPANTS. THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.”

It’s so easy to point out who the newcomers are and the ones that are sick of playing. You can also name who’s going to be willing to put themselves first and who’s going to scary run the whole game.

I start rolling the sleeves of my sweatshirt up when a boy with a cap starts talking to some guys. They look lost, but not new to this. Might be the first week here. I eye them from my spot, not saying a thing but listening to the whole exchange.

“Excuse me, do you know what this is?” He asks a black haired boy. Honestly, he looks a mess, like he has just gotten up from bed and hasn't changed in a few days. “I ended up here and I have no idea what’s going on”.

“It’s a game” He answers. At the same time, the blonde man next to him, probably his friend, tells him to stop it. I chuckle and cover it up with a cough, earning myself a glare from both Chishiya and Aguni. I might be prone to get in trouble with people and they won’t be happy if I screw a game up. Better be quiet.

The blonde guy whispers to his friend and I try to pick something up from the conversation. Not get close to the new ones and something else.

“DIFFICULTY: FIVE OF SPADES”

The card flashes on our phones, telling us the kind of game and the level of difficulty. I was so curious about the card when I got to my first game, I didn’t know what it meant and what I was supposed to do with it. I’m a bit ashamed to admit that I admire the cleverness behind the rules and the method of the games. It’s the work of both a psycho and a genius.

A sporty girl starts to stretch just after the card shows, so she must know what it means. She’s calm and collected and I bet she’s willing to put all of us on the killing zone before she goes down. We could be friends, I think.

I hear a sigh next to me and I catch a glimpse of Chishiya rolling his eyes. He doesn’t exactly hate physical games, but they sometimes mean having to run or climb and he’s not a fan of working out. And, even though he won’t admit it, he doesn’t like having his white hoodie dirty. Not going to judge, I don’t love spades games either, but I will choose them over the hearts ones a million times.

I get down to tie my shoes tighter just in case. I would hate tripping like the clown I really am in front of all these people. Some guy in a hat starts explaining to the two friends from before what it means a spades game. Club games are hard if there are more newcomers than experienced people. I mean, if it's a game where team work means everything, you bet you prefer working with someone who knows the way around the games. Diamond ones are a bit weird: being clever will get you through them, but sometimes the answer is so straightforward that you get lost looking for the catch. Heart games are the worst. They will kill you even if you survive, and pray that you don’t get to play with a friend or someone you know.

“GAME: A GAME OF TAG.”

“RULE: RUN AWAY FROM THE TAGGER.”

“CLEAR CONDITION: DISCOVER THE SAFEZONE HIDDEN IN ONE OF THE BUILDING ROOMS WITHIN THE TIME LIMIT. YOU CLEAR THE GAME WHEN THIS OBJECTIVE IS FULFILLED.”

“TIME LIMIT: 20 MINUTES.”

“AFTER 20 MINUTES HAS PASSED, THE TIME BOMB HIDDEN IN THE BUILDING WILL EXPLODE.”

I turn around to face Chishiya, grinning like a mad girl. He doesn’t even flinch when he stops me from talking. “No, I’m not racing you to the top.”

“But…” I sigh and watch as everyone starts running to the stairs like lost puppies. “You are so mean”. I punch him in the shoulder and cross my arms, walking towards the lift. No need running seven floors up and wasting energy if I’m not even going to be able to brag about having won a race.

Chishiya follows closely behind, probably guessing I’m going to try and leave him there.

“TWO MINUTES BEFORE THE GAME STARTS.”

We get inside the lift and silently wait until we get to the seventh floor. It’s been a long time since I used one, not everyday you get to play in a building apartment. Feels nice, and like we’re back to normal.

Once we get to the top, we both choose a position that lets us have a good look at the whole complex. He goes to one wing while I leave for the other one. No point leaving a flank unseen. I take my cube out and restart it, keeping an eye on the people looking around scattered through the floors. I don’t get why someone would choose saying in the lower ground when a tagger is supposed to chase you through the whole building. Dude, that’s the most critical place to start.

“Hey, don’t get distracted with those games of yours.”

“Don’t be mean, Chishiya. You know I’m paying attention.” Anyway, once I finish the cube, I keep it in my pocket and rest my arms on the banister.

Aguni and his new friend get to the seventh floor and both of us wave towards him. Like always, he completely ignores us and keeps walking towards another high point.

“That’s nasty” Chishiya says and I nod along. Aguni is always so serious during games, it’s boring.

“I place my bet on those two guys and the sporty girl surviving”. I firmly say. They look like they will make it, but not without having a rough time.

He has the audacity to snort and laugh at me and I look at him surprised. “You’re joking. Everyone looks like they’re about to die, as usual. Just look at them, they don’t know shit about what to do”.

“Were you this calm in your first games? Don’t be mean, they are trying their best. No one wants to die.”

“But, where you that stupid?” He says while pointing to a couple of girls on the second floor who are touching their phones desperately. “I’m not saying you gotta be a genius from the start, but if you don’t collect yourself quickly, you are already dead.”

“Well, my majesty, not all of us are like you, and some people need a little more time, and a little more help.”

Chishiya looks at me and, as if I had imagined, a caring and sorry look crosses his eyes. He probably remembers the first time he saw me get through the games and how I completely lost it once. It wasn’t easy.

“THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.”

He nudges my arm with his elbow and I look at him.

“THE TIME LIMIT IS 20 MINUTES.”

“Hey” He says with a soft voice.

“GAME START.”

“Don’t die this time.”

“Wasn't planning to.”

“THE TAGGER IS NOW ON THE MOVE.”

As if we all had planned it, the whole complex goes silent, trying to locate this said tagger. A trumpet goes off and everyone looks scared, ready to bolt to wherever they can.

The sound of the lift’s doors can be heard from our position, so the tagger is probably on the sixth or fifth floor.

Not a penny drop can be heard. Not a breath.

Some people start walking and try to open doors. The rest are all watching closely until something happens.

And it does.

Gunshots run through the dense air that surrounds us. I try to see where they come from and I finally catch sight of the tagger. Probably a man, judging for the height, with a horse head and a really mean gun. He’s on the sixth floor, just in front of the stairs.

I point at him and nudge Chishiya, but I already know that he has seen him.

There’s now thirteen of us.

And then shots are fired again and we can see the two friends and the one with the hat running down the stairs, away from the tagger.

“Told you, they are gonna get killed.” Chishiya says with a smirk.

“Oh shut up, this is not a TV show we are talking about. And I have faith in them”.

They split up on the third floor, the hat man keeps going down while the other two try to hide in the hallway. Not long after, on the ground floor that the tagger chases and shots the first one and finds another man freaking out. I don’t know if it’s better that he died because he went off the game zone instead of being shot by the tagger. Anyway, he’s also dead. And that makes three dead players.

Eleven participants left.

“See, they are smart. At least the cute one”. I say smiling.

Chishiya looks at me and raises an eyebrow, silently questioning just what I said.

“What? It’s not like I’m lying; he is cute, and smart.” I laugh and wink at him, cutting eye contact with him. If we are going to have an awkward moment, please don’t be while we are playing for our lives.

The killing spree of the tagger continues with the pretty and lost two girls. They sure are on their first game, because they look so freaking scared and unprepared. I mean, who would have come with heels and handbags. I scoff and shake my head watching how one of them falls dead and the other one wastes an incredible opportunity of getting away while the tagger reloads. Well, not all of us are strong enough to leave our friend and not panic at the same time. Shame she has to die, anyway.

So now we are nine players still alive.

Looks like everything’s gone silent again, until shouts break the silence and we all look for the source. It’s the cute guy and I laugh when I understand what he’s saying.

“Everyone! The tagger is currently at the second level of the central area! The tagger has bad vision because of his mask! Let’s inform each other of the tagger’s location and search for the safezone together!”

“Oh my god, did he seriously turn a spades game into a club’s one?” I laugh again and Chishiya scoffs under his hood. “I want to be best friends with him”.

“Don’t be stupid.” Chishiya says. We move a bit to see where they are going now that they are all running. “It’s a good idea, not going to lie, but no one will answer him.”

He mutters something else, but I don’t really catch it. I think I saw the tagger doubt his step when he heard the guy shouting, but he definitely looks annoyed when the sporty girl shouts back.

“The tagger is moving from the fourth level of the central area! Anyone nearby, run!”

I celebrate and raise my hands, clapping and laughing in Chishiya’s face. He looks surprised and tells me to shut it.

The girl runs from the tagger and finds an elderly woman in the hallway. With the tagger on their back, they are probably going to get killed. I grip the banister and hold my breath. She seems friendly and clever, I’m internally rooting for her.

Suddenly she jumps off the balcony and starts climbing the pipes up to the next floor. The other woman dies behind her, and the tagger tries to catch the girl but fails.

“She’s pretty good.” Chishiya mutters. “You just wish you could do that. It’s called envy”.

“As if you could do that too. You are just as weak as me.”

“Hey! Don’t throw me in the same casket!”

“EIGHT MINUTES UNTIL THE GAME ENDS.”

“THERE ARE CURRENTLY EIGHT SURVIVORS.”

Already? We should start moving.

I look at Chishiya under my hair and he frowns at something. I follow his gaze and see the tagger looking at the cap boy from an upside floor. What’s shocking it’s him starting to shoot from there. He has been killing just people he casually finds while walking around, not shooting from that distance.

The boy goes down, but looks unharmed. The two friends are on the same floor and get to him, running away from the door he was trying to open.

Not bothering to ask Chishiya if he got that, I start jumping on the place and keep my phone in my pockets. He slides off the hood and shoves me towards the stairs.

“Shall we, ma’am?”

“THERE ARE FIVE MINUTES REMAINING.”

From the corner of my eye I catch Aguni intercepting the boys and I make a face. It doesn’t always go well when he does that, he tends to let them die in order to have his way. The sporty girl stops to talk to them and she starts jumping from floor to floor.

“Do you think someone’s going to get it too?” I ask out loud. Chishiya shrugs and keeps on walking. I tsk and stay behind him when we get to the hallway. I turn around and watch my back, even though I heard a fight somewhere near. Probably Aguni, who are we kidding.

Just when we are arriving at the safezone apartment, the cute boy appears from the other side.

“Cute boy! I’m glad you realized it!” I happily say without thinking. I mouth a silent sorry when he looks at me a bit perplexed. Chishiya elbows me, hard, and I whine a bit. That’s mean.

He picks the doorknob first, but doesn’t open it. The three of us are watching closely, and honestly I’m a bit nervous about the time. I don’t like risking it as much as Chishiya.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asks.

The boy answers a couple of seconds after, lost in his thoughts “Why did the tagger chase us? He could have just waited here.”

He is onto something. Now, I’m not liking this at all.

“Seems like there’s something else we don’t know.” Chishiya says, keeping his calm exterior. He’s going to use this poor boy in case he has any doubt of a risk. “However,” he adds, taking his phone out “if you don’t open it…”

There are three minutes left.

Sweat starts running down my back, making me shiver and hold my breath while I watch the boy start turning the doorknob. All our phones beep announcing the time left until we all die with the bomb.

Slowly, he opens the door with caution. We all walk inside, in silence and with darkness surrounding us. It 's empty. No furniture, neither personal objects nor some leftovers of someone’s life. A few steps in we notice a door at the end of the room and we all walk towards it.

It’s not until we are too far inside that another tagger walks out behind the door.

“Look out!” the boy screams and pushes us out of the shot range.

Gunshots fly around the apartment and I duck behind the bathroom door. Chishiya uses the taser and the tagger goes down, but recovers quickly and starts shooting again. I scream when a bullet gazes at my arm. It fucking hurts, but at least the bullet didn’t got me completely.

I can hear the apartment door being shut and the other door at the end closing too. They must have gotten through them. I hope they aren’t harmed.

I wait, trying not to make any sound in case the tagger comes to finish me off. I search through the room, but nothing seems lethal enough to use like a weapon. I hate bringing weapons to games, I don’t really want to kill anyone if I can help it.

Gunshots are fired and I cover myself up, even though they are not directed towards me. Fighting blade weapons? I’m okay with that. Fighting people? Not against it. But, I have nothing towards a gun. I mean, it can take me from a long distance! No point.

“Everyone! The safezone is in apartment 406! It’s impossible to clear the game alone! We need two people to do this!”

Are you kidding? This is so mean. What if you were the only survivor? Not fair, not at all.

Well, it seems like I should get moving and try to do something useful in this game. I haven’t done shit, now that I think about it.

Slowly, I open the door just in time to see the tagger shoot the door and break the safelock. I take small steps following it, ready to throw myself to placate it. Just when the gun is going up I jump and kick the tagger in the knee, managing to bring it to the floor.

I hear a scream coming from the tagger and a lady cursing from behind the mask. She starts shooting and I scream trying to cover myself without being hit. The guy bolts and tries to help me get her off the gun, but she keeps fighting like a mad person.

We both go down before she gets us with the bullets and I catch a glimpse of Chishiya at the door, trying to help but having to cover himself because of the lost shots.

The phones all inform us of the ten seconds remaining at the same time that the sporty girl jumps through the glass of the balcony. The tagger kicks me and gets the gun pointing at my face and I panic just a bit before I push back. The other guy tries to help me, but with no help.

“Hey!” Chishiya shouts.

I’m on the floor fighting the tagger with the gun under my chin, trying to get it off my face, but I see him throwing the taser to the girl and she quickly gets the tagger down.

I let out a sigh before I heard the time almost coming to an end. My eyes search for him and we lock our gazes. I can feel the breath we are both holding and the silent words running through our minds. My fingers clench and I swallow, accepting death like a forgotten friend, saying goodbye with a blink.

But, just like that, with a blink, it all finishes. The buttons are pressed on the last second and we all hear the beeps from our phones.

“GAME CLEAR.”

“CONGRATULATIONS.”

In that same moment, the tagger gets the mask off and we can see an old lady crying looking at us. The collar in her neck starts beeping faster and faster and I scramble to get away from her. Chishiya grabs both my arms and I scream at the touch in the bullet gaze from before, but he doesn’t let go and gets me away at the same time that the collar explodes, killing the lady.

My whole back is covered in blood and I roughly grab Chishiya’s hoodie. I don’t want to look at her and see what we did, even though it was unintended. She was also playing, and she died because we won.

Chishiya and I are left in the room with the dead tagger, and he grips my hand and makes me let go of him. He starts checking the pockets of the lady and gets something out, but I don’t register exactly what.

I get out of the apartment to breathe. I hate this part where we really think about what went down here. Lots of people died, and we got a few days to live just to have to risk it again in the next game. Could have we saved someone? Not really, I know that. But it doesn’t make it easier anyway.

“I’m Arisu.” Someone says beside me. I turn and the cute boy is there, watching me from a distance. “I wanted to thank you, for risking yourself back there. We are alive thanks to all of you.” He sticks out his hand to me and waits.

I’m speechless. No one has thanked me like this in any game. I didn’t really do a thing, but he’s thanking me. I should be the one doing it, he cooperated with the other girl and they stopped the bomb. We could have died there.

I let out a small laugh and shake his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Arisu. And thanks to you, you did the dirty work inside the room.”

I look back inside and watch Chishiya stick the paper in his hoodie and walk towards us.

“I look forward to meeting you somewhere else, hopefully not dead in a game. Be careful and enjoy the warm water in the ocean now that we are all alone in the city.”

With a wink, I walk out of the apartment building with Chishiya not too far behind. I think he heard me talking to Arisu, but he doesn’t comment on it.

We walk, and we walk, and we walk. Neither of us likes to go back to the Beach in the cars, so we always take a stroll through the streets, enjoying the silence and the stars shining above us.

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

“Mmh?” I look at him questioning and he nods to my bleeding arm. “Oh, yes, like a bitch. But I’ll have to wait until we get there.”

He tsks and grabs my arm, leading us to a pharmacy around the corner. I don’t say anything, knowing he will shut me up and will only be a waste of time. We get inside and he starts looking for some disinfectant and bandages.

He knows his stuff. I was surprised at first to discover he knows his way around the medical grounds; and I’m glad he does. It doesn't hurt having someone nearby capable of dealing with nasty wounds.

He silently works and I watch him closely. He’s handsome. And he knows it, that’s why he smirks feeling my gaze on his face. I trace his features taking my time. His eyes are the most scary thing I’ve ever met. They hold so much knowledge and feelings. I always feel like he could take me apart just with his eyes. He mostly covers his emotions, so even though you search for micro expressions, you will come empty handed almost always.

I bring my free hand up and run my fingers through his hair. I love it, it’s so smooth and soft. And the fact that he always wears white to match his hair makes me smile like an idiot.

Chishiya clears his throat and starts covering up the wound. My hand drops and rests in his arm, basking in the heat he’s making.

Once he’s done, he brings down my sleeves and looks me in the eye, silently checking if I’m okay. I nod and take his hand, quickly gripping and, just as fast, letting go. I can hear him sigh behind me, and he follows behind.

“You know, I’m glad I met you here, but I would have prefered meeting you in the real world.”

“Why?”

“Because I know I will be safer here with you, but I also know the probability of us having a happy ending is minimal while we are here.”

“You are not wrong.” A couple of minutes goes by until he adds: “But that doesn’t mean you can’t try and make the most of it while you are alive. It will hurt more, but at this point, who cares?”

I let out a breathy laugh and turn around to hug him. Hard. He stops and lets me hug him, finally giving in and hugging me back. I hide my face in his neck, breathing deep and closing my eyes. I can feel his pulse and his chin coming down on my head, his hand running through my back.

“You are an idiot.”

“And you are mean. Deal with it.”

I swear I can feel his lips kissing the top of my head, but it’s so fast I can’t be sure. He starts walking again and I run to catch him before I lose him.

We may have a complicated relationship, if you can call it that. We are there for each other, not sure of what to do, what to give, what to take. But we do not give up. I’m just glad I’m not alone, and thankful that I have someone looking out for me.

I smile all the way to the Beach.

[gojology]

Jealousy. (1/3)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | im a sucker for jealous teenage gojo and thats all u have to know

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Teen! Gojo Satoru x Gender Neutral Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 1236

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Light Cursing. ALL CHARACTERS HERE ARE AGED DOWN FROM PRESENT ANIME/MANGA INTO WHEN THEY WERE TEENAGERS. 

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | Gojo hates whenever you spend time with Geto. Unfortunately, you do that more than half the time. He can’t put a finger on it, but he has a feeling of dread whenever he sees Geto with you, and silently wishes it’s him. Shoko tries helping.   Gojo’s eyes glared at you and Geto, he was grateful his eyes were concealed behind his dark shades. A beautiful warm orangey-yellow coated you two both, Gojo noted how golden hour suited you so well, but for once paid no mind to Geto. Both of you were sweating incredibly hard, but didn’t seem to mind the sticky skin and the clothing.

  You were profusely giggling, and every time you caught your breath, Geto would tickle you again and you’d burst into a fit of giggles, and the cycle would repeat.

   Your cans of Pepsi sat untouched, not even the caps were opened.   Grumbling, Gojo took another swig out of his second energy drink. Still looking at the both of you through his glasses. He sat down on a bench, hunched over. Even though he hated the very sight of you hanging out and being so friendly with each other, he didn’t want to leave.

    Was it fear of Geto kissing you without Gojo’s vision cast upon you two?

 “Stalking (Y/N) and Geto again?” a familiar serious voice grumbled, Gojo’s head swung around before he realized Shoko was sitting down on the bench next to him. She crossed her leg, Shoko’s shoulder length hair ruffled a bit in the weak breeze as she shifted her gaze towards him.

   Gojo blinked, cursing himself for being so obvious in his stalking endeavors. It would be too useless to even argue, trying to tell Shoko that he wasn’t even looking at them, and rather very interested at a random bench that just so happened to be next to the pair was comparable to just straight up admitting that you had a crush on (Y/N).

 “This is my first time even lookin at the two, fuck are you talking about, saying again?” Gojo placed a hand on his chest, leaning backwards a little. Grinning a little while taking another generous swig of his energy drink. “Free entertainment, I’d rather look at them then some fucking birds flying by.”

 “Mmm. Yeah okay.” Shoko nodded sarcastically, and then burst into a fit of giggles.

 “What?”

 “Holy shit, Satoru.” Shoko was now holding her stomach. Wiping the corners of her eyes. It had been a while since he had seen Shoko laugh like that, she was always doom and gloom all the time. Gojo couldn’t quite put a finger on why she was laughing, though.

 “I’m not that stupid, Satoru.” laughing again, opening her drink loudly, then taking a short sip of her canned coffee. I’m pretty sure I see you looking at (Y/N) more then I see you gloating to some dumb schoolgirls in public.”  

 “I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

 “You get defensive when you’re lying.” Shoko stuck her pinky out, her eyes bore into his. Gulping down the rest of her drink. She crushed it with a singular hand, examining the wrinkles and folds in the now compressed and beyond repair tin.

 “I do not! You’re accusing me of some weird ass shit, you know.” Gojo spat out, an unfamiliar feeling bubbling inside of him. He had never felt this before. Playing with the hem of his pocket a little, he reached for his emergency candy that he always had in his back pocket, he hated awkward situations like this. He stared down at Shoko, heart beating quickly for some unbeknownst reason.

 He played a little with the wrapper in his pocket, while Shoko leaned her back on the bench, looking at the sky. She crossed her arms, setting the crushed can on the splintered wood bench, blowing on a stray hair on her face. “Whatever, Satoru.” she grinned, replying a little later. She stood up, casually throwing the can into the nearby trashcan. She shoved her hands into her pockets, walking down the gravel path.

 As her figure grew farther and farther into the distance, Gojo sighed, realizing that he had completely forgotten about you and Geto.

 He turned his head over his shoulder, this time not as obviously. You and Geto were still giggling with each other, like a stupid couple. Your Pepsi cans still sat untouched, water dripping down the both of them. It was like the two of you forgot Gojo or Shoko were ever there.

 He spat at the ground, guzzling down the remaining energy drink. Crushing the can, just like Shoko had done but with way more aggression, Gojo angrily threw it into the trashcan, grinding his teeth. ‧₊˚✩彡.   “AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” You screamed, arms up in the air, hair blowing in the wind. Geto was chasing after you around the grass field, Gojo’s legs splayed out, entranced by the two of you running around in circles.   “I’M GONNA FUCKING GET YOU, (Y/N)!” Geto grabbed at the air, running at you. You squealed loudly, running even faster.   Gojo mindlessly took a bite out of a sandwich, spitting out a tomato. He was sitting on a picnic blanket under the shade of an incredibly large tree, enjoying the cool against his sweaty, hot skin. Yet, not once considering taking his glasses off even though the sun wasn’t even in his way.    He was wearing a more casual t-shirt and a pair of shorts, compared to his usual Jujutsu Tech uniform. He enjoyed the casual wear, and felt like a normal teen for once, doing normal teen things.   “Gross.”   Shoko tilted her head, her legs also splayed out. She was also looking at you and Geto running around, yelping turned into giggling as Geto finally tagged you.   “The tomato or the lovebirds?”   “Both.” Gojo snickered, looking down. The familiar, negative feeling expanded inside of him again. It always occurred when he saw you and Geto having fun.   “Mmmm.” Shoko looked down on the picnic blanket, it had been custom decorated by the group. It was a group celebration after the crew had defeated all of the curses in a certain small village. Gojo had drawn an incredibly large stick figure, with his iconic pair of black circular sunglasses and his hair. A tiny person stood next to him, with a smiley face. A heart between the two.   He had also drawn multiple penises, and a pair of incredibly circular breasts, but that was besides the point. Shoko speculated that Gojo probably had a crush on (Y/N). If he didn’t, Shoko figured he just wanted (Y/N) in his bed, one or another.   It didn’t take a lot to figure Gojo out. Shoko wondered how stupid (Y/N) could be, not noticing Gojo’s crush when he obliviously stared at them like an absolute buffoon.   On the other side, Geto and (Y/N) decided to collaborate together, Geto had drawn (Y/N), and (Y/N) had drawn Geto.     Both of them were hideous.     “Ugly, right?” Gojo scoffed, looking down at the drawings. Silently wishing that he was in Geto’s place.    “How’d you know I was staring at the drawings?” Shoko shot back, a triumphant, cocky smirk on her face.     Gojo whistled, leaning on the tree trunk. His head resting on his hands, which he had propped up to rest his head against.     “Strong people just know these things.”     Gojo furiously dug into the ice box, yanking out a chilled, sugary pink lemonade. He held it to his forehead and sighed in relief.     Shoko turned over, now looking at Gojo’s ear. She narrowed her eyes.    “Satoru, have you ever considered that you have a crush on (Y/N)?”    

[robindrake93]

Kavinsky’s relationship with Ronan is so interesting when looked at from Kavinsky’s POV.

Kavinsky was skulking about Monmouth for Ronan before he knew that Ronan was a dreamer, which meant that he had some interest in Ronan as a person (which we know doesn’t happen because the dream pack and his family are...dreams). Kavinsky then finds out that Ronan is like him. They’re the same. They’re dreamers and Kavinsky has never met another one in the world. He went from being alone to being one of two. His whole world changed again.

Kavinsky spends like a year trying to tease the confession out of Ronan. Ronan is really only interested in finding the bottom of a bottle with Kavinsky (and racing and fighting with him). Kavinsky is the window in which Ronan’s bird tries to fly into repeatedly and violently. We can assume Kavinsky was met with failure because The Dream Thieves happens.

Kavinsky flirts and he insults in the same breath because he is the instrument that Ronan loves to hurt himself on (and he’s not a stupid boy who can’t read the fucking room - Gansey has a literal collar for Ronan; K isn’t pulling Gansey’s Dog from his ass). But Kavinsky isn’t the only one with sharp, cutting edges and Ronan (intentionally and otherwise) hurts Kavinsky too.

So time passes and Ronan is the same as he’s always been and Kavinsky gets impatient and desperate. He dreams Ronan’s leather bracelets, punctured with teeth marks like the ones in reality, the details noted carefully and lovingly.

“I know you” is what the gift says. “I know you’re a dreamer and I know you chew your bracelets when you’re unhappy and I’ve been paying attention because I care. Look.” Kavinsky leaves.

The next time they see each other, Ronan tosses him a pair of sunglasses. The ones that Kavinsky wears regularly. This is the acknowledgment, the “I know you too.” Except the tint is off, the lenses are slightly wrong (and oh I bet that haunts Kavinsky later, this tiny sign that Ronan isn’t as into Kavinsky as Kavinsky is him). But still. The fact that the sunglasses exist says that Ronan is accepting the gift, he’s returning it, and he’s trying. Which is more than Kavinsky got out of him before.

Things happen fast after that.

Because they’ve always shared dreams and been aware that they were sharing when Ronan dreams of Kavinsky, I’m assuming that the first one - the sex dream - featured a real Kavinsky (although I don’t think Ronan knew). Kavinsky falls asleep and into a dream where he’s fucking Ronan against the hood of a car. This isn’t Kavinsky’s dream, either. It’s Ronan’s. Ronan who controls his dreams. To Kavinsky, this has to seem like a sign that Ronan is very into him.

They’re both dreamers. Kavinsky lives surrounded by dream people and dream objects...why couldn’t they take a dream relationship to reality with them?

Ronan crashes Gansey’s car because of the night horror and Kavinsky shows up to save his life. Ronan’s life is valuable. Except Ronan isn’t grateful, he’s freaking out for no reason over the car. And there’s a moment where Kavinsky literally does not understand what the big deal is; Ronan can just dream a new one. It’s easy. He mentions that Ronan might have a head injury because he doesn’t know that Ronan doesn’t know Kavinsky is a dreamer.

But Kavinsky is going to take care of this and his stupid idiot boyfriend (what else would Ronan be? They courted, they fucked, dreams are reality). Kavinsky flirts on the drive over and Ronan sulks and Kavinsky says in words what he’s been saying in actions; I know what you are, you’re just like me.

Kavinsky is no ones dog. He doesn’t have a Gansey to distract him from his life. He lives with reminders of how bad life is and he’s an addict in a downward spiral. So the process of dreaming is something Kavinsky has had ample time and privacy to streamline.

Ronan doesn’t make cars because he’s keeping himself secret. By showing him the cars and that it’s even possible, Kavinsky says, “we don’t have to be a secret. You don’t have to limit and twist yourself into a tiny box. The world is literally ours.”

I’m not sure how they went from ‘let’s dream a new car’ to ‘let’s get drunk’ and can only assume that it was old habit to drink in each other’s presence but there’s a time skip where we next hear from them via Gansey. More specifically, via Kavinsky being at once jealous over Gansey (probably) being in a relationship with Ronan and where he both reassures Gansey and rips off the bandaid about the car. Kavinsky sends Gansey a dick pic with an Irish flag tied to his erection, a roundabout way of saying that Ronan’s already ridden his dick.

Kavinsky takes Ronan home after the field, they (or at least Ronan) drink alcohol and Kavinsky puts on a racing movie. Kavinsky texts Gansey his dick pick and the news about the car, and he’s not even next to Ronan. He’s giving Ronan space. I’d say the phone thing was invading Ronan’s privacy but Ronan doesn’t use his phone so...there’s nothing there to invade. When Ronan wakes up, Kavinsky tries to start a conversation. And it’s a pretty normal conversation; you handle your liquor well, oh hey you aren’t responding are you okay, wait you inherited dreaming from your dad?

Ronan leaves the room. He’s not very talkative. This probably isn’t going how Kavinsky imagined it would. Again, Kavinsky is an addict and his boyfriend is being more prickly than usual so he gets high. Kavinsky makes a joke instead of confessing to texting Gansey what was basically a “he wants me more than you” text. And Ronan responds with violence. Which Kavinsky points out and his only option is to lay his cards on the table. Kavinsky doesn’t want to play chase, he wants this thing between them to settle. So he spills that he saw Ronan dream the blood and he knew.

And all Ronan asks is how he did it. His hackles have finally soothed. Kavinsky almost literally jumps on the chance to teach Ronan and spend more time in his company; the company of someone like him in all the ways that matter.

There’s more beer to entice Ronan to stay, a little extra incentive to spend time with Kavinsky. Ronan’s first attempts aren’t interesting for someone who’s house is full of one trick magical dream items. Like I said above, Kavinsky has the dreaming process streamlined. He takes his pill, he gets what he wants from his dream and he dies for this. His heart stops for a few seconds. We don’t know if Kavinsky takes the pills to dream every time or if it’s just to make this fast and easy for Ronan’s training. If he does it’s because he’s suicidal, and if he doesn’t then it’s because he’s at the point that he’ll die for Ronan.

What does Kavinsky bring back? Something boring, like Ronan’s dream thing, but it’s complimentary. The cap to Ronan’s pen, the missing piece, that fits and matches perfectly. Which is what Kavinsky thinks they are to each other.

Kavinsky gets his jealous dig in about Gansey’s relationship with Ronan, which makes Ronan almost leave. This time, when Ronan tells Kavinsky to back off about Gansey, Kavinsky does. Because he wants Ronan to stay and he knows Ronan has a temper. Back to the safe stuff, to training, and this time when they dream together it’s intentional.

And when they get back? Ronan is still and he doesn’t react when Kavinsky touches him but he does open his hand when asked what he has. He laughs at Kavinsky’s joke, which doesn’t insult Gansey or insinuate that they’re in a relationship. Ronan laughs, a good sign, the best sign, and Kavinsky flirts. They open up a little, the first time that Ronan has shown any interest in Kavinsky’s home life, and then it’s back to dreaming together.

When Ronan dreams back a lit bomb, Kavinsky saves their lives by throwing it out the window before it explodes. They talk civilly and Kavinsky offers Ronan some cocaine; both to help him dream and because people who do cocaine just like to share with their friends and romantic partners (not diving deeper into this but trust me, it’s a thing).

They’re together so long that days have gone by. This is the first time that they aren’t fighting and antagonizing each other. It’s just dreams and each other. There’s still beer and cocaine because they’re addicts who are hurting, but they’re both comfortable with it. Ronan gifts Kavinsky with a twizzler, which Kavinsky takes because he loves Ronan.

Kavinsky thinks Ronan’s ready for the Camaro but gets angry when he realizes Ronan still doesn’t get how to dream. Ronan gets angry too, takes his failure out on Kavinsky because he just doesn’t get it. And Kavinsky points out how he’s been practicing.

So two things happen next. Ronan says he can’t go back without the car, to which Kavinsky replies to the effect of “then don’t.” He’s asking Ronan to stay with him. And Ronan replies that he’s going to try again, he’s going to dream with Kavinsky again, he’s staying. And that’s all that Kavinsky hears, he doesn’t realize that Ronan meant he was getting the car back so that he could leave.

A new pill comes out, one that keeps Ronan in his body but kicks his mind out. This is a pill that Kavinsky has tested before (once resulting in a girl overdosing) but now he’s got it perfected; this isn’t supposed to hurt Ronan. And Kavinsky re-enacts their first shared dream; Ronan against the hood, Kavinsky pressed up behind him, tracing the tattoo. They’ve already been here before.

But Ronan is gone, back to dreams, and when he comes to, he’s done it. He’s brought back the Camaro and it is perfect. Ronan’s success is Kavinsky’s success (which I’m sure he attributes to his magic dick and phenomenal teaching skills). They are perfect. This is a perfect moment for Kavinsky, a shining moment.

And Ronan crushes it immediately by telling him that actually he’s going back to Gansey; that he wasn’t going to stay. Kavinsky is so surprised that he stands in blank shock. Whatever defensive shields he has slam into place, a wall between himself and his boyfriend who refuses to stay. He can’t believe it.

Ronan mocks Kavinsky for thinking that they’d stay together and that this strengthened anything between them. But Kavinsky still tries to change Ronan’s mind by telling him he doesn’t need Gansey. And then Ronan breaks up with him. Ronan basically says that Kavinsky was nothing at all and he didn’t care about him.

Kavinsky is heartbroken. He says he’ll burn Ronan. He’s a jilted lover, spurned and ashamed and hurt. Ronan is leaving him. Kavinsky puts his finger gun to Ronan’s temple - one last touch - and says he’ll see Ronan later. The exact verbiage is “in the streets”, which might be a joke from Maggie about how they’re no longer seeing each other in the sheets.

But he doesn’t burn Ronan right away. He dreams him a car and lets Ronan know that he’s still jealous over Gansey.

The car gets no reaction and Kavinsky escalates in his attempts to Ronan’s attention. I don’t know how Kavinsky convinces himself that kidnapping Matthew was a good idea. But I want to know if it was before or after he realized that Matthew is a dream thing. When Kavinsky kidnaps Matthew? I bet he didn’t even have to resort to force. Just “hey kid, I’m Ronan’s friend, wanna get a milkshake?”

And he’d take Matthew to get a milkshake and sit in the booth opposite him and drill him with questions. And come to realize that Ronan dreamed him. Now that Kavinsky is actually looking at Matthew, he sees the signs of a dream thing; knows Ronan’s dreams intimately enough to recognize his handiwork. Kavinsky lives with dream things that are so real that no one can tell the difference. And Ronan did a really shitty job making Matthew. The kid has zero personality. He’s essentially a mirror: if K mentions he likes something then Matthew starts talking about it and he copies body language and speech patterns. He wasn’t just made to like people, he was made to be liked. (This was based off the snippet of CDH that was released and I don’t know if later installments negate any of this).

So if Kavinsky hands him a pill and says “swallow this” then Matthew does it and that’s how Kavinsky gets him into the trunk. He literally just asked. It’s that easy because Matthew was made by a child who had extremely base desires...who is very bad at realism.

Kavinsky sends Ronan texts from both his own phone and Matthew’s phone. This is what got Ronan’s attention; he calls. He’s never called Kavinsky before in his life, has never even texted him back before. So this is huge.

It’s important to note here than Kavinsky has replaced real life people with dreams and that he has to practice to get good at making something(one). People are replaceable. Dreams even more so. Matthew is barely a person, he’s a bad creation, and he’s replaceable. This is the key factor; Mathew can be redreamed. If something happens to this Matthew - like an explosion, say - then Ronan can always dream a new, better one. Kavinsky can help him. The point being that this is not actually a high stakes move for Kavinsky. This is breaking Ronan’s toy with the intent of gaining Ronan‘a attention and promising to buy him a new one (a better one, even).

When Ronan threatens Kavinsky on the phone, it’s nothing. Ronan has threatened violence before and it’s only fair for Ronan to make the same threats Kavinsky did. The important, takeaway is that Ronan is coming to see Kavinsky.

At the Fourth of July party, Kavinsky makes an entrance. He wants Ronan to see that he’s fine without him, better in fact.

But Ronan brought Gansey. And Kavinsky cannot resist a jab at Gansey, whom he feels stole his other half. He tells Gansey that he hopes Ronan can’t get it up for him. Ronan attacks him, demanding his dream brother back.

Kavinsky says he doesn’t know. This may or may not be a lie. Kavinsky brings up their relationship again, because that’s what this is about. He says, again, “I can’t believe you left me.” When this doesn’t get through to Ronan, Kavinsky asks Ronan to dream with him.

Ronan does.

Kavinsky is being attacked but Ronan came. He flirts, using a line he’s used before.

And it doesn’t work.

Kavinsky is being attacked by the forest and he tells Ronan that sometimes you have to take what you want; asking again if Ronan wants him, telling him that Ronan doesn’t need to ask before he takes Kavinsky. Again, he bears his heart to Ronan. He’s saying that Ronan is all he has because Ronan is so irreversibly tied to dreaming, dreaming is the only thing there is. Kavinsky says that if Ronan stays in the relationship, they’ll have each other.

Ronan tells him that it’s not enough, that Kavinsky is not enough. Here, Kavinsky begs that it’s not because of Gansey, that Gansey isn’t better than him. And then it comes out that Ronan would rather have a straight man than Kavinsky. A straight man who isn’t a dreamer.

Ronan says that there’s more to life and Kavinsky says that it isn’t true. Ronan says cars, sex, and drugs but he’s also talking about dreaming and that’s how Kavinsky takes it. Everything and a large portion of the people in Kavinsky’s life are dreams. He has no reason to think he won’t be continually replacing people and objects with dream copies. This is his whole life, it’s all he has, he’s made it from nothing. And this is when Kavinsky realizes that Ronan really doesn’t feel the same and isn’t going to return his feelings.

Kavinsky loses the will to live because he’d hinged everything on Ronan. Without Ronan, Kavinsky didn’t want to live. The last little thing he had in his life that was an equal, snuffed out Kavinsky’s flame. So Kavinsky summons a creature that’s essentially his heartbreak; not just this one but every heartbreak and all of his self loathing. This creature hates Kavinsky as much as it hates the rest of the world because it’s Kavinsky’s feelings manifested.

Kavinsky has escalated again. Now he’s threatening to kill himself. He looks Ronan in the eye and asks Ronan to stop him.

Ronan brings back an albino night horror. It fights with Kavinsky’s fire dragon and both boys just watch it. This is so interesting because Ronan’s only reaction is to tell Kavinsky to stop feeling. Stop having feelings for me. Kavinsky says that he can’t. Again, the dragon and the night horror are manifestations of Kavinsky and Ronan’s feelings; they’re metaphors come to life.

Ronan is still focused on his brother, though. Kavinsky even tells him that he’s missing the point of all this, which was to sort through their feelings (or fight through them like the dragon and horror were doing). Ronan finds Matthew, mildly drugged but fine and about to free himself anyway. And Kavinsky finally sees that Ronan really doesn’t care. So he stays in the path of their monstrous, overwhelming feelings made real and ignores Ronan’s pleas for him to get down because he knows Ronan will say whatever he needs to get Kavinsky to do what he wants.

And Kavinsky dies in flame, death via broken heart.

[knivesareout]

take on the world - chapter one

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, bad jokes, flirting idiots and Tom doesn’t exist.

Summary: A whirlwind romance takes you by surprise when Frankie rescues you.

A/N: Well, here is the beginning of what is going to be a BEAST of a fic. There will probably be around 8-10 chapters in total and I’m already working on the next one (aka where the smut is). I will warn you all that this is going to deal with some heavy subject matter as we go along but I’ll put up proper warnings when they come. I hope you all enjoy and you can read it on AO3 here.

INSPO TAG | CHAPTER TWO

___________

There was a special place in hell for people who set their friends up on blind dates.

This wasn’t your first, or even your fifth, blind date in the last year that you’d agreed to go on to appease a happily married friend. This time it was Jessica’s husband’s co-worker who she’d shown you a picture of and you had wearily agreed, nodding as she told you how great he was.

He was in fact, not great, as he was now 30 minutes late and counting despite the numerous texts you’d sent him.

Thankfully the bar you were currently at was only a quick 10 minute walk from your apartment, a small miracle you were glad for. Surely you could stumble back the couple of blocks to your place if you decided to drown your sorrows in shots of tequila, a couple beers, and maybe a fruity drink or two if you were feeling spendy or particularly sad.

The bar was loud and, of course, overly crowded. It was a Saturday night after all.

Most tvs around the room were playing various baseball games at top volume with the season having only started a couple weeks prior. It wasn’t your favorite sport but you knew enough to keep up, eyes fixated on the Red Sox game just to the left of you.

“Need a refill?”

A cough sounds in your ear and you turn, realizing the question was meant for you. The man who’s taken up residence on the bar stool next to you is waiting for an answer, a distressed ball cap tugged low over his face and you wish you could see him better.

“Oh,” you laugh awkwardly, glancing down at the empty pint glass and back up again. When did you finish that? “Yeah, I mean. I need one.”

The man just nods, motioning the bartender over and he wordlessly clears your glass and sets a new one in front of you as well as one in front of the man next to you.

Muttering a quiet thanks to the bartender, you turn to the man in the cap and smile. “Thanks. Didn’t even realize I’d gone through it so fast.”

The man nods with a shrug of his shoulders, a slight smile on his face. “No worries. You looked like you were sucked into the game and figured I could help. I’m Frankie, by the way.”

Giving him your name, you reach a hand for him to shake- which he does. Rough, calloused hands envelope yours in a tight squeeze before he drops them with a cough.

You realize he must’ve been watching you before, if he knew you were with an empty cup.

Normally that was something you would find creepy because you were clearly alone, or at the very least weird but for some reason it’s endearing on this guy. Frankie. Out of the corner of your eye, you try to take in his features without being obvious, his attention now turned to the same game you’d been watching only moments before.

Dark hair curls outside of his baseball cap, a dimple embedded into his cheek on the right as he smiles. Patchy facial hair covers his jawline, bits of grey catching the light as he tilts his head back to take a swig of his beer and you wonder how old he is. At first you would’ve pegged him around your age, but now getting a somewhat better look he might have several years on you.

“Were you waiting on someone?” He asks, turning to you with his voice raised. A group of men are shouting in the back of the bar near the pool table and you wince.

You nod, downing half of your beer and swiping at your mouth. “Yeah. Blind date. I should know better but I can’t tell people no and he was cute.”

Frankie just laughs at your honesty, “So he just didn’t show?”

“Yep. Never had one that just didn’t show up. Figured I might as well get drunk to commemorate the occasion. Or commiserate. Either one.” You bring your glass up to his and cheers, shaking your head incredulously.

“His loss.”

You turn to Frankie with a raised brow, lowering your glass to watch him slowly check you out. You feel hot all over and clear your throat, teeth tugging on your bottom lip.

“What about you then? Here alone or did you ditch someone?”

Frankie presses a hand to his heart, fake wounded at your jab. “You already think so little of me? I was here with friends but they bailed on me,” he explains. “Saw you by yourself and thought we could both use the company.”

His answer puts you more at ease and you finish off your second beer of the night.

“So, figure I gotta ask. How old are you?” It really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things but if things are heading in the direction you hope they are, you don’t want to make him uncomfortable if you’re too young.

He seems startled by your question, like it’d never occurred to him to ask and he falters before answering. Did it make him uncomfortable?

“You know,” Frankie starts with a chuckle. “Normally, I’d be offended but I’m not. ‘M 42.”

Nodding, you blow out a breath that you didn’t realize you’d be holding. “Newly 30,” you tell him, bringing your refilled drink up to click against his own.

The age reveal doesn’t seem to bother him, at least from what you can tell. You’d never cursed your age before until now, hoping it hadn’t put him off.

You turn on the barstool to face Frankie, hoping to break the tension.

“So I have just one question for you, Frankie.”

He nods, turning to face you and waiting for you to continue.

You hold up a finger and place it on his jaw near his mouth, the one spot not filled up by wiry grey and black hair. His eyes are wide at your touch and he’s tense.

It was something you’d noticed right away when he sat next to you, your attention drawn to it for whatever reason. His terribly patchy facial hair was endearing.

“Why is this the perfect place for a kiss?”

The way Frankie looks when he laughs makes your heart ache in the best way. He tosses his head back, mouth wide as he tries to contain his laughter. His dark eyes crinkle, nose scrunched up at your blunt question and you retract your hand, satisfied with his response.

“How much have you had to drink?” He manages to get out between wheezing while he catches his breath.

“Couple shots of tequila while I stupidly waited. Two beers now, thanks to you,” you nod at the empty glass. “I might be drunk? It’s hard to tell, honestly. I think I’m fine.”

“So you’re just normally like this?” Frankie laughs, tilting his head. His fingers drum on the side of his almost empty pint glass, something you wonder is a nervous tick.

You push your empty glass away, hoping it’ll get the bartender’s attention and it does. Ordering Frankie another beer and a vodka cranberry for you, you turn back to him. “Guess so. If it’s too much though, I can pretend you never came over here and finish the game by myself.”

“Not what I meant,” he’s quick to tell you. “Just wanted to know what I’m getting myself into is all.”

Silently your lips tick up in a smirk and you start on your drink, turning your attention back to the game.

Over the next hour, you get to know Frankie and vice versa. He’s ex-Army; out for the last couple of years and he’s slowly getting back into the real world. Explains how he doesn’t have any family in North Carolina but all of his buddies live here, so he moved.

Frankie’s a helicopter pilot, giving city flyover tours to people coming in from out of town. He doesn’t love it but he loves flying so it’s enough for him, he tells you. You can see it in his eyes how passionate he is about flying and it makes you grin.

In turn, he asks about you. Normally you wouldn’t give up so much information about yourself to someone you don’t know all that well but Frankie has slowly started to feel like anything but and you feel guilty letting him give you so much only to get nothing in return- so you tell him. Maybe too much. About how your job working at a law firm is the most boring thing, especially when you had no interest in law. Which in turn sparks up his question- what do you want to do? That ends up setting you off on a tangent about your love of photography but how hard the industry is to break into to do it professionally or at the least get paid for it.

“Here, hang on.” You tell him, sliding your phone out of your back pocket and pulling up your Instagram. Social media was, normally, the bane of your existence but you used the app for your photos and nothing else, you tell him. He nods like he understands, telling you he isn’t much better technology wise.

Frankie’s quiet as he scrolls through your feed. He’s slow about it too, clicking on a few to see them bigger, and you bite your lip in anticipation at what he might be thinking. It’s nerve wracking to show anyone your passion and you manage to finish off your drink while he’s still scrolling, waving off the bartender as he asks if you want another.

“You’re fucking talented as shit, you know that?”

His response catches you off guard and you can instantly feel yourself getting warm at his compliment. It feels different, coming from him. A stranger who’s slowly becoming something more.

“You’ll have to let me take your picture some day,” you shoot back, kicking your dangling foot against his.

“You don’t have pictures of people on there though,” he’s quick to point out, handing you back your phone.

“Well no, but that doesn’t mean I don’t. It’s hard convincing people to hike with me is all.” Nature photography was your niche but you could already envision photographing a portrait of Frankie on a mountain with the sun illuminated behind him.

Frankie finishes off his beer and sighs loudly, turning to you with his brows raised. “Well, we’ll have to plan something then won’t we?”

You’d known that was coming and still, your stomach fills with butterflies as he all but asks you out. To see you again beyond this dark, crowded bar that smells like smoke and sweat.

“Definitely.”

Frankie asks if he can walk you home once the bar tab has been paid an hour later- he’s even covered yours too, in apology of your ruined date and unintentionally crashing your plan to wallow in self-pity afterwards.

“I’m just a couple blocks down,” you tell him, pulling your jacket tighter around your shoulders to combat the cool, spring breeze.

“No worries. Can’t complain about getting to spend a little more time with you,” he says cooly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

The line is smooth and cheesy but it still puts a smile on your face, which you’re sure was its intended effect.

You chuckle, turning to him so he can see the roll of your eyes. “Smooth, Casanova.”

Frankie puts his hands out in front of him in defense, scoffing at your jab.

“Cut me some slack, alright. Haven’t even dated a woman in years, let alone spent hours interrupted and talking with one,” he explains, knocking his shoulder with yours.

The little touch is something weirdly intimate and you cough, looking at him with a skeptical eye.

“I find that hard to believe, Frankie,” you chuckle, “You’re a good looking guy. Can even hold a decent conversation. No dates? Really?”

He shakes his head, shrugging. “Wasn’t in the right headspace for it. And now that I am, I just so happen to meet you and who knows. Was it fate?”

You spot the teasing tone of his voice immediately and you shove him lightly as you start to approach your apartment building. “You’re an ass,” you tell him, giggling as you try and pull your keys from your pocket, fingers fumbling and they drop to the ground with a clang.

You both reach down at the same time, heads knocking together and you can’t stop yourself from laughing. Laughing so much your chest aches with it and you can’t breathe, tears pricking the corner of your eyes and you glance over and Frankie’s no better, clutching his stomach as you both sit on the ground around your fallen keys.

“We’re a fucking mess,” you manage to get out between left over laughter and catching your breath.

Frankie lets out a loud breath, trying to calm himself and he nods in agreement. Picking up the keys, he hands them to you and stands, offering you a hand that you gladly take and try to steady yourself once you’re safely back on your feet.

“You alright?” He asks, running his hands over your hair and brushing at the crown of your head. As if he’s inspecting you for any injuries and you hold your breath.

The best you can manage is a nod, eyes flicking to meet his and you search them for any sign that he’s feeling exactly what you are.

He is. Expressive brown eyes that tell you everything you need to know.

Frankie sighs, pulling his hands back from your face and groans. Kicking at the pavement and mumbling quietly to himself.

Has the moment passed? Did you not react how he was expecting?

Turning back to you, he gives you a self-deprecating smile. “We’re drunk,” he explains. His tone is apologetic and you wonder why he’s saying the words if he feels bad about them in the first place.

“Maybe a little,” you agree. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t had, what I’m sure is, a much better date than I would’ve if that guy had shown up.”

You can tell your words mean something to him. It’s like he’s got this loose energy that he doesn’t know what to do with. Like he wants to shout and scream and run down the street. It makes you want to know more about him- what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling.

Bouncing on his toes, Frankie hurriedly pulls out his phone from his front pocket and hands it to you. “I wanna see you again. Put your number in there?”

The phone is old. Flip-phone old and you laugh as you figure out how to program your number in there, adding your name along with a smiley face at the end before handing it back over to him.

“I had a really great time tonight, Frankie,” you promise him, fiddling with your keys. “Thank you for saving me from what was probably going to be a terrible night.”

“Me too,” he agrees, pursing his lips.

It’s like he’s deciding his next move and it catches you off guard when he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek.

Once there’s a fair amount of distance between you, Frankie heads down the sidewalk and waves. “I’ll call you,” he tells you, calling over his shoulder.

“You better,” you yell back.

Your grin is huge and you’re sure he can see it, even as he continues to walk backwards, watching you, and he disappears into the night.

---

Frankie calls the next day.

Phone numbers that weren’t saved in your address book were usually sent straight to voicemail but there was a nagging feeling deep in your gut to just answer it so you move to the edge of the sidewalk and out of the crowd and pick up.

“Hello?”

You catch a sigh and Frankie’s voice sounds over the speaker, bringing a smile to your face instantly. “Hey, it’s uh. Frankie. From the bar last night?”

Laughing a little, you nod to yourself. “Yeah. I remember you. Almost knocked me out when we bumped heads trying to pick up my keys.”

“Oh good,” he sounds relieved and you glance around as you wait for him to speak again, hoping the conversation was more than just chit-chat. “I know we just saw each other yesterday but I was wondering if I could see you again. Tonight maybe? If you don’t have plans. It’s fine if you do, I just thought I’d ask.”

He’s rushing through his words and you can tell instantly that he’s had to psych himself up to call you from his nervous tone through the receiver.

You don’t have plans and you’re more than eager to see Frankie again. Wondering if last night was a fluke and hoping that it wasn’t. Relationships weren’t your forte but maybe this was the exceptiontion. He was the exception.

“Yeah, I’d really like that Frankie. Just wanna meet me outside of my building around 7?” You chew on your lip nervously.

“Yeah,” he tells you. “That- that would be great. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” you chuckle. “Bye Frankie.”

“Bye.”

Suddenly thankful that you were done running your errands for the day, you headed back home with a grin on your face that didn’t seem like it wanted to leave. Cheeks aching, you wondered what and if he had anything planned.

It had been too long since you’d gone on any sort of date. A real date; something planned and thought out unlike the blind dates you were used to. Frankie didn’t seem the type for a typical dinner and a movie, and something about that idea had you even more excited to see him. Everything about the situation with him was unpredictable: the chance meeting at the bar, to the walk home where you laughed harder than you could remember. There was clearly something there between the two of you and it was exhilarating.

The rest of your day was spent cleaning and daydreaming about the night you might have with Frankie. You wondered if this was how it was supposed to feel when you liked someone. The concept was foreign to you, your relationship history basically nonexistent. Was it possible that he was just as nervous as you were?

As 7pm rolled around, a text sounded over your phone and you leaned over on the counter to see Frankie telling you he was outside. Grabbing a light coat on your way out, you took a deep breath and locked the door behind you. No turning back now.

Frankie was dressed similarly to last night. Jeans, a t-shirt and a tan jacket that looked like it’d seen better days. His hat was missing and his hair looked soft, the ends curling around his ears. You greeted him with a smile as you walked out of your building and he nodded, rocking back on his feet.

“This isn’t weird, is it?” He asks, nodding his head as you both started to walk left down the sidewalk. “The fact that we met last night and we’re seeing each other again?”

You chuckled, “It’s weird in the sense that I’ve never done this before. Any of it. But no, to answer your question. I wanted to see you again and I am, so.” Shrugging, you turn to listen to him as you both continue to walk, keeping to the side.

“Yeah, me too. I mean, I’ve met people in bars. Women. But it’s usually a one night kind of thing-,” Frankie stops himself and groans, running a hand down his face in embarrassment. “That sounds bad. Fuck.”

“Ain’t no shame in the game, Frankie. I’m not here to judge you,” you promise, pausing as you wait for the crosswalk sign to turn white so you can cross the street. “Where are we going, by the way?”

Frankie waits to answer until you’re both safely across the street and heading further into downtown, the crowds getting thicker and you push yourself against his side so as not to lose him. His arm finds its way across your shoulders to keep you close and he answers, leaning his head down closer to your ear. “There’s this bar and arcade thing down a couple more blocks that I figured we could spend some time at. Maybe head to the park after that and walk around. See where the night takes us?”

It’s easy to tell he hasn’t quite planned this out and something about that makes your heart race. He really had just wanted to see you, planning this as he goes only so you can spend more time together.

“The park can get a little murder-like late at night,” you point out with a laugh,

“That’s true. Well, we can always just see where the night takes us after we play a couple of games then if that’s alright?”

“That’s the part where you’re supposed to tell me you’ll protect me,” you poke a finger into his side and laugh. “But yeah of course, Frankie. Whatever you wanna do,” you reassure him. “I’m just along for the ride.”

The bar slash arcade was… something. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but it wasn’t what you walked into. The building was packed to the brim; loud noises, slots and different game noises sounding from every corner, and a small bar was tucked in the left corner with a tv playing what looked like The Shining above it.

“Have you been here before?” You raise your voice, balancing yourself on his shoulder to get closer to his ear.

He nods shouting back, “Yeah, once. Came with a couple of buddies of mine. They’ve got some cool retro games in the back that we used to play as a kid. Everyone loves air hockey too, right?”

You can see the air hockey table he’s referring to. The black light makes everything under the table glow and it reminds you of the arcades off of food courts that most malls used to have. The skeptical feeling you had when walking in seems to fade away and suddenly you’re excited, wondering why you hadn’t been here before when it was so close to your apartment to begin with.

“Once the table clears, I wanna play,” you say, tugging Frankie towards the back where you see a racing game that looks familiar.

Frankie exchanges a few bills for tokens while you hold the two racing games and once he’s slid in the appropriate amount, it’s immediately turned into a competition.

As the screen starts to countdown to your race, you turn to him quickly with a proposition. “If I win, you buy me a beer.”

“I was gonna buy you one anyway,” he tells you, shaking his head as if he’d do anything less. “But alright. If I win, you have to give me a kiss right here.”

He annoyingly points to the empty spot on his jaw where his facial hair didn’t seem to grow, that you had drunkenly pointed out the night before, and you can’t help the loud bark of laughter that escapes your lips as you quickly nod. “Deal.”

You’re almost tempted to lose once the race starts, just so you can kiss him there. But deep in your gut you feel like there’ll be plenty of opportunities to kiss him there in the future so you don’t hold back. The routes feel familiar as you and Frankie virtually drive through them and you’re sure you’ve played this game before, years ago.

As you both reach the last lap and the finish line, you just barely win and pump your fists as you cross. The screen declares you the winner in big font, a trophy spinning in circles and you turn to Frankie. “So, about that beer.”

You two end up at the bar for a little over an hour. The barstools surrounding the area are a hot commodity and once you and Frankie are sat down, you’re reluctant to give them up, especially with the bartender keeping your drinks filled without having to ask.

Frankie tells you about his friends. Benny, Will, and Santiago. How they’ve kept him going since returning back to civilian life. He says they’re all one big support group to each other, knowing that even if it feels like there’s no one you could count on, one of them is always around. There’s a tightness to his voice when he talks about them, like he can’t believe his luck that he has such supportive friends. The clear despair on his face has your chest aching, and you squeeze his hand in comfort.

It makes you yearn for a friendship like that. Most of your friends are married and it’s harder to relate to them when you’re single and living in the city while they’re still living in your hometown with a couple of kids. You tell Frankie as much and he sympathizes and points out that you have at least one friend in the city now, shaking off the emotions of such a heavy conversation.

“Looks like the air hockey table is free,” you nod, seeing the table free for the first time that night.

Frankie nods, standing up to grab his wallet. “You grab the table, I’m gonna close out the tab.”

You quickly walk over, grabbing the two handles and knock a few tokens into the machine when the lime green puck pops out. Frankie joins you a few seconds later, grabbing his handle and standing opposite you.

“So, what are we competing for this time?”

You think for a moment, “Well, I don’t think I need another drink. What about if I win, you have to cook me dinner sometime this week? Maybe Wednesday?”

Frankie seems taken aback by your suggestion but readily agrees. “I can do that. And if I win, you have to cook me breakfast Thursday morning.”

His offer isn’t lost on you and you toss the puck onto the table with a smirk as the air starts to push it around. “You’re on.”

The match is filled with trash talk as you two play. You even manage to gather a small crowd of people around you, cheering you both on. It’s close. For every point you get, Frankie’s one step behind you. Your wrist is starting to ache and the countdown starts on the side, signaling the end of your game in the next 30 seconds.

“You’re gonna lose, Frankie,” you taunt, scoring another point and he tosses the puck back on the table and shoots it towards you as you block it, sending it back across the table.

Except you lose. By a point.

There are cheers for Frankie and slaps on the back as another couple takes over the table and you both move to the side to watch.

“I can’t say I’m all that mad that I lost,” you tell him honestly, glancing up and locking your eyes with his own deep, brown ones.

“It was kind of a win-win for both of us either way,” he agrees, nudging his arm with yours. “So, another date Wednesday night?”

You nod quickly, “Sounds perfect.”

--- Frankie walks you home a few hours later.

After the arcade, you both grab slices of pizza from a small place down the block and walk around, grease staining your fingers and tongues burnt from being so hungry.

Most people are tucking themselves back into their beds at the late hour, your watch showing it was coming up on 2am as you both approach your building.

“A successful first date, I think,” you turn to him, arms wrapped around yourself as the wind turns cold around you. You sniff as your nose starts to drip, scrunching it up and Frankie laughs.

“I think you’re right,” he agrees, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against chest in a hug.

You savor the warmth as you press your cheek against him, then turn your head. “I should go inside. And you should head home, it’s so fucking late.”

Untangling yourselves, Frankie shoves his hands into his pockets and knocks his arm against yours. “I’ll see you Wednesday?”

Nodding quickly, Frankie shoots you a smile and turns, jogging across the street to where his truck is parked.

It’s like seeing him walk away pushes something inside you, itching to see him just once more and you call out to him quickly before he can get in his truck, “Frankie! Wait! I forgot something!”

He turns to watch you run across the street as he stands in front of the driver’s side door, looking at you curiously once you’re stood in front of him.

“What did you forget?”

“This.” And you lean over to press a kiss to the bare spot along his jaw, the sparse hair around it tickling your lips and you pull away with a grin.

Turning to glance both ways before crossing the street you call behind you, “Goodnight Frankie!”

NEXT CHAPTER

[lexacoolfox]

(I was about to ask you if you can do Nagito with an S/O who’s like Leviathan from obey me but since you don’t know the game, I will just describe his personality for you.)

So basically S/O is an otaku who usually spends most of their time on the internet and doesn’t usually talk to people unless if they really have to. They usually rant about whatever anime or game they’re interested in to their closest friends and they tend to use internet slang even if they’re speaking to someone (ex: “Someone go grab the popcorn lolol”) Despite them revolving their reputation around being an otaku, they don’t think very highly of themselves and is very insecure. Since Leviathan represents Envy in the game, S/O is also easily jealous and often talks about how “unfair” or “lucky” others are. They also like to invite their closest friends to events in video games. They are also a mix of shy and energetic since they have a lack of social skills but they also gets angry when they get jealous or ecstatic when they see something rlly cool happening.

I feel like that sums it all up, I hope the request isn’t too hard.

Thank you for describing the personality in such good detail! I can definitely work with this!

Nagito with a S/O like Leviathan.

You were known as the ultimate otaku! You spent most of your time on the internet. Had very pricey anime merch and manga. Your room look liked an anime paradise. You also played video games.

When you got accepted into hopes peak you weren’t the most excited. You were homeschooled mostly, you hated going out in public and being ‘social’. You were pretty awkward in public.

You knew you didn’t have to go to the school. It wasn’t necessary to attend. But your parents practically forced you to go. They threatened to take away your privilege to buy anime merch and manga for 4 months if you didn’t go. You couldn’t live that long without being able to buy the things you like. So you reluctantly went to hopes peak.

You arrived the first day and you felt extreme social anxiety. You sat in a chair and noticed a girl with a game in her hand. You saw she was playing (insert random game.) you actually really like that game.

“You play (game name)?”

“Yes. I do, I like the story and design of this game.”

“I must agree the story and design are pretty great. I personally like to play games with a story like Kingdom of hearts it’s one of my personal favorites, the first one was good and I like the second one. I can’t wait for the third.”

“I really like that game too. It’s such a fun story and the mystery behind it is so much fun. What’s your name? I’m chiaki nanami the ultimate gamer.”

“Oh I’m f/n l/n the ultimate otaku.”

“So you like anime and manga I’m guessing.”

“Yeah I do. I also don’t do to well with social interactions, unless I’m online. I honestly didn’t want to come but my parents would cutoff my ability to buy merch and manga. So I really didn’t have a choice.”

“You don’t seem to be too bad at interactions. I mean your talking to me just fine.”

“Well that’s because we’re talking about something I’m really into. Normally I have nothing to say that isn’t consider to most people as nerdy or geeky. Sorry for uh wasting your time, I going back to my desk.”

You sat back in your desk and pulled out your phone talking to your internet friends. When somebody walked next to you. You noticed but that’s all.

“Hello.”

You looked to see a boy with very white hair and a smile on his face.

“Uh hello…”

“I’m Nagito Komeada the ultimate lucky student! If I may can I know your name and ultimate?”

“Um I’m f/n l/n the ultimate otaku…”

“Oh wow! That’s mean you probably have a lot of anime merch and manga right?”

“Yes I do…Um…not to be rude…but is there something you need?”

“Oh no. I just wanted to know introduce myself even though you will probably forget trash like me.”

“Hehehehe well there’s something we have in common. I doubt you’ll remember a loser like me lol, Ugh it’s so unfair, I can’t believe I’m an ultimate for something so lame. There so many people with such better Ultimates.”

“What! If anybodies ultimate is lame it’s mine!”

“Yeah…totally… being super lucky is so much worse than a loser who just watches ‘cartoons’ and collects figures that super expensive all day.”

Before he can respond you pull out your headphones put them on and started listening to your favorite anime openings. You just wanted to go back home and play video games.

Throughout the day you overhead everyone’s amazing Ultimates, you couldn’t help but think you didn’t belong there. These people had all these amazing skills and what are you an otaku. After a while you walked out of the class and went to a hallway and looked out a window.

“Hey.”

You looked over to see Nagito.

“Oh hey.”

“What aren’t you in class with everyone else?”

“Cause I don’t belong in that class.”

“But your an ultimate!”

“So what. My ultimate is so boring compared to the others. I just want to go home and play video games.”

“What kind of games do you play?”

“Oh I play games with a story and good graphics. But I also like games that don’t have a plot like, Minecraft. It extends my creativity. I’ll also watch a random anime while playing. Normally if I’m playing the anime I put on is death note. It’s one my favorites no cap.”

“No cap?”

“Sorry I tend to use internet slang even in real life conversation.”

For the next hour or two, you mentioned the type of games you play, anime you watch, and some merch/figures you have. Nagito was mentioning a game you played very often, you told him that a event of the game was coming up. You invited him to join you and he agreed.

When joined in one the event, you sounded so much more happy and very enthusiastic. He got to see a new side of you, the both you had a quite a bit of fun. He even learned a bunch of new internet slang. (Even thought he probably not going to use it.)

You guys were now really good friends. You two just got along very well. You two would play video games, watch anime, read manga together.

When you two played games with each other online. Sometimes he glad he can’t see your face. Cause you get jealous and angry when somebody beats you. In public if your jealous which makes you mad. You silent rant on the inside of your head. But online, it’s like a explosion of yells. Nagito tries his best to calm you down when you get like that, he’s learned not to say ‘it’s just a game.’ Cause that just makes it worse.

You kinda developed on a crush overtime. You realized you liked him when he gifted you a manga, that you couldn’t get cause you got in trouble with your parents.

You didn’t know how to tell him. There was no way you could do it in person.

You thought how something cute and something he might like. He really enjoyed the game Minecraft. So on Valentine’s Day you texted him to join you in a game. You spent about maybe a week making the little Valentine’s Day confession.

“I know it’s not the most romantic thing in the world. I was also to scared to tell you in person…I really like you Nagito.”

“Aww s/o…this is so thoughtful of you. I really love it! It so you! I would be delighted to be your valentine.”

“Really! Wow! I’m just so…!! How about we meet up at our favorite cafe?!”

“Yeah that’s sounds great!”

You two went on Valentine’s date. It was great. You guys went on more dates after that, and soon became each other’s significant other.

A few relationship headcanons

He is the only one allowed to touch any of your expensive manga’s or merchandise.

You get so easily jealous of other people when they flirt with Nagito.

You and Nagito have anime marathons. Like a movie night but anime.

He loves to see your excited face when new merch for you favorite animes or a new/sequel to one your games comes out.

You and Nagito get matching anime outfits

Nagito also helps with your insecurities by showering you with compliments while also degrading himself. For example while you were saying how uninteresting you were. You told he could probably do better. he responded with ‘don’t say that, it’s amazes me that someone as worthless as me. Is given the privilege of calling someone as amazing as you my significant other!’

You also give him compliments and shower him with affection. You also do anime classics like a kabedon.

When you did do a kabedon he almost passed out by how flustered he got.

I really hope I got the character right! So komeada-simp37 if I got it wrong or wasn’t really what you were looking! Sorry! Anyway hope you have a nice day!

[jypbae7]

Me me meeee <3 I'll request a full analysis about NCT's Johnny! 😚😚 Include errrrthing baby hahaha 18+ stuff, him as a romantic partner aka bf <3 whatever you want! I'm so excited to read this akndfkgkfn 😎😎😎❤️❤️

Johnny Suh - Natal chart

Finally finished it!! Johnny was actually the most requested member I received in my inbox! Sorry that it’s nearly the length of a novel lmao but I sectioned it to make it easier to read and navigate 💕

(Not claiming to be an expert this is just for fun please don’t take anything too seriously!) Hope this is helpful and that you enjoy it 🥰❤️

Personality: Aquarius Sun, Gemini Moon, Aqua Mercury, Virgo rising, Leo Mars

While Aqua is a fixed sign it is definitely the most adaptable of the 3 fixed signs due to the Air element of Aquarius plus the ever spontaneous Gemini moon. Most things that make the rest of us feel anxious tend not to seem that scary to fearless Gemini or cool as a cucumber Aquarius.

Natural social butterflies who love their tribe deeply and fiercely once they find them. Busy bodies who are easily bored if left unstimulated too long which will turn into crankiness if not rectified quickly. Thankfully Aqua & Gem have a zest for life that makes them quite easy to please. They are open minded and will gladly stay up till 3am talking about aliens and conspiracy theories, just like they are thrilled to go on last minute random trips just because why not (Gemini impulsivity at it’s finest lmao)

Gemini is a mutable sign unlike fixed Aquarius. This is a pretty big difference and something that goes under the radar with Aquas due to that cool as a cucumber attitude. Because they are adaptable and typically very easy going they don’t often show their stubborn aggressive sides and honestly prefer not to have to unless they are feeling extremely disrespected or pushed beyond their boundary which is a BIG let me say that again, BIG no no with Aquarius (almost as big as it is for for the water signs)

Adding to these deep inner thoughts and vast inner world that Aquarians have, his Virgo rising adds more depth and self awareness. As perfectionists and highly intellectual minds they are a lot more self critical than they let on, just like they are a lot more caring and soft than they let on. They deeply care about others and the world in general seeing the big picture in a very earthy and traditional way - good people should strive to put good out and try their very best at whatever they do. They deeply dislike mean, malicious, manipulative, or spiteful behavior or people and generally keep guarded around people they don’t know well until they feel certain of the person’s true intention. There’s nothing Virgo is more cautious of than to be swindled or hurt by someone they take it reallyy hard and they know it.

Now we alllll know his swag and confidence is legendary and we can all thank the Leo Mars placement for that and the beautiful lush shiny hair and big toothy smile (Looking at Mark, Jaemin and Xiaojun like 👁👄👁) But beyond the aesthetics and dripping confidence and charisma, Leo is another creative sign that tends to be a lot more intellectual and intuitive than people give them credit for.

When the other members call Johnny one of the scariest members you can bet it’s his aggressive fiery fixed Leo Mars which is loud and even violent when provoked enough not to mention the fixed Aquarius tornado energy...Oooof that is a lot of Fixed sign rage right there honey so let’s tread lightly with Johnny boy and appeal to his open minded and friendly nature with a gentle tone and non-pointed words during discussions and all shall be good even if there’s some disagreeing!

Honestly if the argument starts getting bad you can always distract the Gemini moon by just bringing up other interesting topics! Geminis minds move FAST and while they can process a lot of information quickly and precisely they tend to get distracted easily (but here’s the good side of that😉)

Aquarius have a deep love of family and the desire to create their own (Geminis often share this trait) they can feel a bit like outsiders or “other” from people and thus crave to build a tribe of their own - this can be friends that are lifelong deep relationship carried on no different than family or starting their own family with a partner and kids

Relationships:

Non-Romantic Relationships & overall communication style: Aquarius Sun, Gemini Moon, Aqua Mercury, Leo Mars, Virgo Rising

Built off laughter, time spent together whether its at home hanging out casually or going out for meals and fun new things to try together

Wants to bounce lots of ideas off of his closest friends and secretly loves doing creative stuff together the most - this is pretty evident if you watch JCC he’s happiest when he’s doing stuff with his bros whether it’s sporty, musical, or crafts

Does not like to be vulnerable even with those he’s close to, tends to stick to neutral and more light hearted topics of interest and conversation because he prefers to spread a good mood instead of a heavy one

If he really trusts you or has worked through it enough already to want to talk about something serious you’d better listen cause the boy drops gems of wisdom and has a really soft mushy heart

Immediately adopts his close friends as family and no matter the time apart or distance will always treat them the same

Likes friends he can learn from and take on new adventures with they satisfy the intellectual Virgo rising and Aqua & leo sign thrill needs - Gemini is all about BOTH of these

Deeply appreciates loyalty, acts of service, and quality time with his friends and family - makes his heart soooo happy BUT

He would rather fucking DIE than let you or anyone see him cry so he cries like 4 times a year at 3am in the bathroom while everyone’s asleep (HIGHKEY feel like Ten & Jaehyun are exactly like this too)

Romantic relationships and preferences: Capricorn Venus, Leo Mars, Capricorn Juno, Capricorn Eros

Mr. Johnny Suh has THREE Capricorn placements tied to love and intimacy so that’s saying something lmao

Going against Aquarius’ open mindedness and anti-traditional persona Capricorn prefers all things traditional and stable.

Very much does acts of service for his partner as a sign of affection also lots of touching and quality time.

A veryyyyyy spontaneous boyfriend/partner thanks to that Gemini moon - he either wants to stay at home in pjs and order food and have movie marathons or whisk you away on zero notice to a trip lol

Earth sign men are drawn to women who embody very flowery feminine energy and aesthetics. They prefer a “natural beauty” who can spice it up sometimes rather than a super flashy 24/7 partner. (He’s said in the past that his ideal type is Yoona which says it all lol)

Will be highly drawn and intrigued by someone with a high work ethic and high intellect. BIG bonus points if you can keep up with his sarcasm and jokes.

Earth signs are pretty physical and handsy so expect to have little personal space around him, make no mistake they enjoy this very much. He will definitely be grabbing you and picking you up often! He’ll be smirking down at you devilishly watching you get flustered backed into a corner trapped by the sheer size of his muscular body. A Capricorn male’s ego really enjoys this dynamic, trust me lol.

Also another quirky male Capricorn trait that actually applies to Aqua & Gem as well… They like to initiate all the touchy feely stuff - What I mean by that is they can get easily spooked by clinginess too early on. These three signs want romance and definitely want to feel that you’re into them but they also are innately independent and enjoy relationships where their partner can also go off into the world and thrive in their own way and meet back together in the middle. So long as you can find a happy balance, when you are together you won’t have to initiate anyways honestly because he’ll be the one pulling you.

Okay let's talk about Juno & Eros - Juno in Capricorn is about serious, loyal, long term commitment though they tend to marry later in life once they’ve already achieved the things they want to for themselves which I can see being the case for Johnny as well especially with his current career.

18+ Preferences:

Eros in Cap where to begin - high libido, stimulated by visuals and touch. Wear interesting colors, patterns, textures to catch his eyes & his hands - lacy lingerie is a plus the texture will really excite him and the feminine look will please his earthy traditional cap side. If you really wanna have him drooling throw in some spicy contrasts like a leather choker with the lace set and you’ll also set off his Aqua, Gem, and Leo placements as well ;)

Tends to bounce back and forth between fucking you like you’re a cheap groupie whore and taking his time staring you in the eyes and kissing you passionately as he’s stomach deep - no inbetween but really who’s complaining??

DOM KINK - NOT UP FOR DEBATE he has THREE Capricorn placements for fucksake meaning 3 cardinal signs which are literally called “the INITIATORS” plus all his other fixed personality placements

More of the classy rich ceo vibes kind of dom (suits, expensive cologne and jewelry, leather, black and red binds) - takes you to bougie hotels when he really wants to ramp it up and not have to care who hears. You can expect not to sleep those nights but he’ll damn sure pamper you afterwards with cuddles, food, and a spa date.

Now...with all his Air sign placements...I have to say it...he’s a kinky ass dude. Few things are off the table, but he’s also super content with “normal” stuff too. It’s more about the person and experience for him than doing the wildest things possible. So if it feels natural and right then he’s down.

Don’t be surprised if he wants to tie you up like a pretzel or role play because he’s definitelyyy going to ask. Well actually he’d probably just buy whatever outfit or binds he wanted to use and casually be like “look what I got for us baby” as if it’s matching charm bracelets or something. The good news is he’ll dress up and get into it with you and he’s super receptive to your boundaries, fantasies and making it enjoyable as possible for you too.

If you flip the script on him and suddenly break the norm either by taking the initiate/lead first or trying something new he will absolutely combust 🤯 and be in the palm of your hand staring in absolute awe and fascination till he can’t take it anymore and reclaims his spot as the one in control

Nudes, videos, and phone sex when apart are a definite and they really keep the passion burning for him which is honestly VERY important and don’t worry he’s NOT shy and you will be grateful for the beautiful collection of photos and videos 🤤

Boredom for Aquas, Gems, and Caps can quickly lead into self-sabotaging behaviors and/or wandering eyes not because they don’t value loyalty but that they really need and benefit from mental stimulation and feeling wanted so when that’s gone they can pull away

Honestly pretty much any type of lingerie or outfit will turn him on because the most arousing part for him is knowing that you spent time doing such a naughty thing for his sake

Breeding kink - 3 earth placements and has said himself in interviews he would’ve started having kids at 25 if he wasn’t an idol soooooo that’s a definite. He imagines you pregnant with his baby and it makes him super soft and warm which quickly turns to super turned on. He loves the primal marking aspect of claiming you in such a way and also watching you unravel to the point of begging him to do it. Even if it’s just “play” he loves it and will probably think about it a lot more than you know. If you ever do it for real he will be utterly and completely obsessed with you forever and be practically more excited about all the stages of your pregnancy than you are

[voicefromthecorner]

So before progressing further in the story, I took a moment to backtrack and make sure I was up to date on the Scramble Slam rewards. I’ve heard that if you leave these things too late, it can be hard to rack up the combos when you reach higher stat levels without reshuffling your set-up, which sounds like my worst nightmare, so it’s better to get that sorted early while it’s easier.

Normally I’d try to be on top of stuff like this the first time through, but I hadn’t quite understood how it worked the first time I did it (didn’t chain battles for other team fights) and fell short of first place. And then the second time... I’m embarrassed to say that I wasn’t paying attention and miscounted the, uh, number of zeroes in the goal. Realised my mistake way too late and didn’t even get third place. I thought it was way too easy.

If you’re interested to hear how that went (which is basically a criticism piece by me on the game design of the quest), I’ll let you choose to read further with a Read More:

I have to confess, redoing those days and getting those points has easily been the least fun part of playing this game. I love the game overall, heck, I love the Scramble Slam as a concept and in the main story. But this specific side quest? This bonus objective of accumulating these points? Get outta town. Go to Shinjuku, where things don’t exist and take this mission with you.

I didn’t hate the whole thing or anything, I had some fun moments which I’ll share. And I mean look at these numbers! Look at the points I got at one point:

222444!! That’s such a cool number! What are the odds? Hah, I am Sho right now.

But to talk gameplay for a sec (*pauses to let everyone unconcerned with gameplay matters leave the room*), this was a truly painful grind. Gathering points happens way too slowly and is really unrewarding for such a high goal to hit, to the extent that hitting it is not a matter of skill or endurance but of patience. It’s just a huge time-sink that took so much time out of my day just for a few pins and a little bit of completion. If there’s an easier way to do this, it’s not obvious.

It just didn’t feel like a fair and fun demand of the achiever players to put up with, as much as I generally love the gameplay. You just find yourself fixing things with repetitive strategies and cycling through them in a monotony, sometimes cheated out of more oh-so-precious points by the bonus enemy being cannon  fodder without a sense of self-preservation. I probably would have been fine, but at one point I took advantage of an enemy jellyfish glitch to just chain combo attack after combo attack against an enemy on 0 HP that wouldn’t die for some reason.

I have a video clip saved of this that I won’t bore you with, but it’s me chaining the same few attacks against this enemy again and again for 7 minutes. And the points at the end of that video? Just over 340′000. 7 constant repetitive minutes of combo chaining will net you 1/40th of the points you need to complete this, and that’s with having a 5x multiplier throughout the whole grind. That’s basically what you’re doing for hours, minus the minor benefits of the points you score from defeating enemies and the bonus enemies. I’m all for a bit of added challenge and higher achievement in a game I enjoy playing, but a task like this sucks the joy out of it. It turns me into a hamster in a wheel.

I do think there were simple ways around this. Earning more points or earning points a little bit faster or having point goals that were still time-consuming but not so outrageously high are a few obvious immediate suggestions. But they could have removed the cap on the combo multiplier. Why does that cap? If the goal is high enough as it is, why not just reward the players who work hard enough or develop a technique that’s fast enough to break through it? It would still be very time consuming but would feel more rewarding. What if you earning extra points for high chain battles at the results screen, or for having high grades at the results screen? There were a lot of options that could have made this at least feel more rewarding and speed the tedious process up just a bit. As it is, this feels more like a punishment, even when you succeed.

I expect this is the most negative I’ll ever be for this game and I’m grateful that I’m only this down about an optional side objective and not something much more core to the experience. I know I’m late in playing and reacting to this, so I’m aware I’m probably not saying anything particularly new in criticising this, but it felt good to get this out of my head after the day I had pushing through this. If you read all of this, I give you a big thank you!

I’m guessing there’ll probably be at least one more Scramble Slam before the end of the story, rule of three and all that. Plus, it’d be weird to give us this concept with this much emphasis on its unique rules and system only to use it twice. So when it reappears, I’ll be glad to enjoy the hijinks, but the grind...

I was already overleveled, but this experience has made me more overleveled than I intended to be. I can’t imagine what it must be like for someone who feasibly could have struggled for similar hours only to fall short of the goal in the end anyway. Ah well.

[legendofmarshie]

Zelda Villain Minecraft Headcanons ✨

Ghirahim 🗡

- He thought the game sounded dumb at first. He couldn’t see the point of a game where you could do whatever you wanted and the main “goal” was never necessary. Still, he decided to give it a shot.

- Him and the other villains all have themselves as their skins.

- His first priority on any new world is always diamond / netherite everything.

- He loves cave mining and LOVES the Nether. It reminds him of home <3

- He thinks striders are genuinely cute but would rather die than admit that to anyone.

- He also enjoys the Aether mod every now and then.

- If he discovers the build he spent hours on isn’t perfectly symmetrical he’ll kill everyone in the room and then himself.

- Skipped the End Poem almost immediately because he thought it was just credits.

- He has INSANE luck finding structures. Like Dream speedrun levels of luck. What the hell.

Zant 💫

- He loves the End and Endermen for obvious reasons.

- He once made the mistake of hitting a villager in front of an iron golem. Never again.

- He fully believes Herobrine exists and nothing can convince him otherwise.

- His Ender pearl aim is on POINT.

- He is currently amassing an army of axolotls.

- He plays with low brightness and then goes mining with not enough / no torches like a maniac.

- He normally uses a lot of grey, black, and blue in his builds. He loves the look of soul lanterns so his bases are usually covered with them.

- Read through like half the End Poem then got bored and skipped it.

- Never ever EVER let him have commands.

Vaati 🌪

- He builds 90% of all his bases on floating islands or just in the sky. Y’know. To flex.

- He’s fascinated by redstone because of all the things it can do but isn’t very good at it.

- He leaves the leaves of trees floating like the little bastard he is.

- Thinks the phantoms are actually super cool (at least design-wise) and wishes they were tameable / rideable.

- He’s basically the living embodiment of the ‘Get the fuck outta my room I’m playin Minecraft’ kid.

- Got up and made a sandwich during the End Poem.

- Has one cat. It sits in the corner he carefully nudged it into and has not moved since.

Octavo 🎸

- Obviously loves the music. Hates hates HATES the cave noises.

- If his inventory isn’t always perfectly sorted he Will Die.

- When he learned there were music discs in the game he wanted one so so badly and was so excited when he finally found one. It was 13. That jukebox went out the window, and the other villains taunt him about it to this day.

- His bases usually have a little note block doorbell. It’s the only bit of semi-complex redstone he’s any good with.

- He unironically listens to the parodies and knows every word to all of them.

- Hasn’t been to the End yet and so hasn’t seen the End Poem.

- Has too many cats. They’re everywhere. Every single one has a unique name. Oh Hylia.

Astor 🔮

- Like Ghirahim, he thought the game sounded really stupid until the other villains finally convinced him to try it.

- He still probably plays the least out of all of them though.

- He plays on hardcore mode for bragging points but cheats by making a bajillion backups.

- Shares Vaati’s opinion on phantoms.

- He goes *all out* on the enchanting room. He’s aware the effectiveness of bookshelves caps after a certain amount but that doesn’t stop him. Thought you were just gonna put silk touch on your spare pickaxe? Good luck navigating the goddamn Library of Alexandria lmaooo.

-He slaughters every other animal he comes across but refuses to kill pigs.

- The only villain that sat through and actually read the entire End Poem.

- Once he found an amethyst geode,,,,,,,,,,, HOO BOY.

[ji-yaaan]

𝓗𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮~

With: Leona, Sebek, Jade, Floyd, Vil, Kalim

Warning: So I know that what I made is really annoying for others... so I'd like to warn you that at the beginning, you will see me ramble about the character's hands. If you want to skip to the hc, go to where the 🤝 emoji is. ^~^

Note:Also, I’d like to address that I do not know how to make Headcanons for the life of me.... So this is just me making a shameless hc, with my shameless hand addiction, fueling my shamelessness, as I shamefully self insert myself in these things I wrote... Forgive me for my shamelessness.... Also, pardon me for my annoying commentary and emojis. I simply do not know how to control my excitement and my feelings so😔👊

AND YES! I THINK THIS IS A CRACK HC LOL!

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

-I'd like to break the silence by saying... LEONA'S HANDS ARE BIG AND MUSCULAR! Leona works out in magift so it's a given that he'd have scrumptious big hands😳😳😳

-Leona's hands are chonky😳 he has long fingers that will surely make yours look very small! Also look at Leona's nails! Its ok looking for me, but it's pretty neat so👌👌👌👌

-Leona's got this rough and rugged look, so I think his hands will probably be kinda rough, BUT NOT THE CRUSTY ROUGH! it's more of the manly rough. A firm hold with his loaded wrist😏

Ok curious what will happen if you hold hands? I gotchu fam:🤝

-Imagine if the both of you were napping and you suddenly intertwined you fingers with his. Leona is a sleepy boi, BUT MAN! HE IS AWARE! Lion boi felt ur hands creeping unto his, but he'll pretend he didn't know that😏

-Leona LOVES holding hands! Only at private tho. This cat boy will never admit to that, but keep holding his hands and look at his reaction. He. Won't. Shrug. You. Off.😏😏👊

-Also when you play and fidget with leona's hands when you're doing premarital hand holding which is illegal btw he loves it when he looks at you spaced out fumbling your fingers with his.

-Leona has big hands, so he'll definitely make yours look wayyyyy smaller. AND LION BOI FINDS THIS ADORABLE! DO NOT FORGET THY HOLY WORDS!

-Lion boi is secretly the type to hold your hands when you're sleeping. He plays with your fingers, admiring how cute and small it is.

-Oh wait...Oops...he got caught... LEONA IS CAUGHT RED HANDED?😳 You wake up finding leona playing with your hands? It's either he turns on his back from embarrasment and tells you to sleep, or he squeezes your hands tighter and burries your face in the crook of his neck from embarrassment. He'll play it off as annoyed, but cat got his toungue huh?. Oh wait.... He IS the big cat😏😏😏

Ok enough babbling with leona...

SEBEK ZIGVOLT:

AHAHAHAHAHA YES MY FAVORITE HANDS! Cough, I'm sorry about that

-Sebek has proportional hands. His is more on the medium-big side. But it is perfectly proportional! At least in my eyes...😳

-The back of his hands are smooth and spotless! Very scumptious to look at! Pls look at sebek's hands too!😳😳😳

-Bebek has PRETTY NAILS UGHHH! He most likely trims and takes care of it every week! Not the best nails, BUT VERY NEAT!😳

-Bebek is a highkey fanboy of malleus, so he trains everyday to protecc his God and saviour Malmal. Naturally, he'll have calloused and rough hands... BUT DO NOT FRET MY CHILDREN! It is not that noticable which shookt me. His hands are a bit roughed up, welp can't help it, he's a man with mang jobs after all. (Yes, I call him bebek because sebek is babey🥺)

Curious what will happend if you hold hands with Bebek? I gotchu fam:🤝

-Sebek is a child so he won't really initiate first on holding hands. BUT WHEN YOU DO! OH BOI!😏 

-Sebek has this transparent look to his skin... Almost ghostly per say. BUT WHEN YOU HOLD HIS HANDS... Sebek is not used to this interaction so expect a tomato in front of you... Sebek's face is flushed red reaching down to his neck, and the fun part is, even his hands are blushy blushy😏😏😏😏

-After the first time the both of you held hands. Sebek will crave for it A LOT! Expect him to randomly start akwardly making way to you hands and play with it while the both of you are just chilling. Akward..... Sebek.exe will stop working when you look at him confuse, in which he'll get flustered, and ask if he can hold your hands. ADORKABLE!

-It would take him some time trying to calm himself down, all flushed and red embarrased from asking to hold hands.

-At first, Sebek will firmly hold your hands, stiff and afraid he might break your fingers or something.... Pls tell him to relax and just chill🥺🥺🥺

-When the both of you gets used to hand holding, Bebek is the type to kiss your hands as a gesture of Love....hgnnn hot!😳😳😳

I'm sorry, I'm letting my personal hand bias get the best of me..😳👉👈

JADE LEECH:

-HGNNN JADE HAS SQUISHY HANDS!😳😳

-Jade has big hands folks.... Big hands..... Perfect for unscrewing the cap of the holy water bottle.🤠

-mushroom boi has squishable hands in my eyes and you can never change my mind.

-his skin is probably smooth and sleek too, his palms must be soft but firm😳😳

-Jade has this grip that makes you feel safe for some reason. Maybe because it's big? or maybe because it's soft?

Wanna know what it's like to hold hands with mushroom boi? I gotchu:🤝

-Jade...oh Jade.... He is the first one to hold your hands in a surprise. Like... imagine after school ends, you ran up to him and he swiftly intertwines his firngers with yours..😳😳

-You are flushed from this sudden hand holding. Red cheeks, red neck. JADE FINDS THIS VERY SCRUMPTIOUS! Mushroom boi will try to push you on edge. Holding both of your hands tighter, and fumbling his fingers with yours. You're just standing there starstruck and embarrased by the sudden hold. Jade is enjoying this too much...😏😏😏

-Of course, to add more to the fun, JADE IS THE TYPE TO KISS THE BACK OF YOUR HANDS TO TEASE YOU!😳

-if you try to pull away from embarrassment...oh no.... You're just begging for Jade to tease you more huh? He'll hold you tighter and maybe even hug you.

-What if you try to hold his hands first? Oh my... Prepare yourself....if you try to hold his hands, he'll just smile like normal, but as time passes by and both of you are pretty relaxed now...that won't do.... He'd pull your hand he's holding and rest his cheeks at the back of your hand, he'd stare straight at you and tell you how much he loves you....😳😳😳

-goodluck on dealing with embarassment Jade stans (oho i know you love it)

FLOYD LEECH:

-ANOTHER EEL BOI COMING RIGHT UP!

-Floyd is whooping 191cm, it's common sense he has very big hands. Perfect for flipping the pages of the holy bible.😏😏😏

-This man child has some big rough hands! Expect your hands to look very small beside his!

- Also I want to tell you about Floyd's knuckles......I think I found my new religion now... Check out Floyd's knuckles!!😳😳😳👌

- Floyds's wrist is big too....mhmmm scrumptious eel martini😳👌

Do you want to know what it feels like to do premarital hand holding with this hot eel? ME TOO! Illegal hand holding time!🤝

-"Your hands are tiny koebi chan~" Floyd is the first one to randomly hold ur hands.😳

-If Floyd gets bored, he'd try to find interesting things to do to kill of the boredom. HMMM?! Do you see that? Koebi chan's hands! Eel boi will casually start playing with your fingers, squishing your palms as you sit there confused and embarrassed.

-He'll eventually intertwine his fingers with yours, as he points to it with his other hands and say "How cute~ koebi chan's hands are tiny!" Grinning widely with his teeth showing. Practically speaking, you are just putty in this eel boi's hands now. You are a blushing mess.😏😏 FLOYD HOW CAN ONE BE CUTE AND HOT AT THE SAME TIME?

-Eventually, floyd will start to crave having your fingers to hold on to! When you're randomly walking down the halls, don't be surprised if a random eel surprises you by linking your fingers together.🥺🥺

-Whenever eel boi sees you, he'd grab your hands automatically. He loves holding your teeny tiny hands with his big ones.😳

-When you avert your attention to something else, he made this habit of squeezing your hands a bit and looking at you with a pouty face. UGHHH MY HEART HURTS THINKING ABOUT IT-

-Whenever he gets jealous, he grabs unto your hands quite tightly, even if the both of you are out in public. Let's say a random dude keeps on talking to you. He'll grab your hands that’s still intertwined with his, and he'll bring it very very VERY CLOSE to his face.😳😳😳 Then he'd look at you straight in the eye as he bites unto your palms. He'd whisper "You're mine right? Koebi-chan~"😳😳😳

I'm getting too much into floyd, this is starting to become a fanfic🤦

VIL SCHOENHEIT:

-MY CRUSTY VILL~🥺🥺🥺

-Ok vil's hands aren't crusty ok? He may be crusty, but not his hands!!!

-My man vil drowns in hand creams, so expect his hands to feel like clouds. It's soft, smooth and most importantly SQUISHYYY!😳😳😳

-Looking at vil's hands is not that exciting ngl... BUT HIS LAB COAT ONE IS👌 very beautiful👌very scrumptious👌

-Vil has proportional and perfect hands. Fingers are in the medium side, so as his hand size. Very perfect indeed.

-His hands might look frail and feminine at first, BUT MAN! You are so wrong! From a gentle hold, it can escalate to a very strong hot grip in seconds.😳

-The back of his hands looks smooth tbvh. And his nails are ok. BUT HE PROBABLY PUTS A LOT OF EFFORT IN MAKING HIS HANDS PERFECT! SO KUDOS TO MY CRUSTY VIL!🥺

Let's hold Vil's hands illegally ok? Don't tell the cops shhhhh! Hand holding time:🤝

-It would start off as a normal vibing session. The both of you are probably having tea, studying, or mainly just chilling in the lounge.

-But suddenly... Vil takes notice of your hands...Hold your wigs kids.... he'd ask you if you've been taking care of your hands, in which you answer "no" shamefully.

-But Vil will then smile at you and tell you you should take care of your hands and use hand creams to prevent them from going rough! He'll lecture you about how you should take care of yourself so the both of you can be perfect and beautiful together.

-Suddenly vil whips out a handcream from his bag, and he'll ask you for your hands.

-As embarrasing as it sounds. The most beautiful man in twisted wonderland is putting handcream on you.😳😳😳

-Vil would definitely massage your small fingers and compliment how pretty your hands are. He'd tell you how cute your nail are and how soft your palms are. Thats it. You're a blushing mess right now!!😳😳

-You'd try to look away from embarrasment, but when vil sees this... Oh boy... He'd pout, and as he's massaging your hands. He'd intertwine your fingers with his, to make you look at his direction again.

-Vil would definitely kiss your fingers and say "You're beautiful, my love."

VIL I LOVE YOU! ok thats all for that, I'm dying rn.

KALIM AL-ASIM:

-Kalim you adorkable sunshine boi😳😳😳

- Kalim has smol hands, BUT NOT TOO SMALL! I'd say, it's probably perfect for you to hold hands with.😏😏😏

-His nails are also small, I think? But it's cute, and turns out i'm a sucker for cuties.🥺

-His lab card is scrumptious.... Both the hands and the food he is cooking...😳😳😳 I hope i'm not the only one who thinks that.....

-ALSO HE HAS A LOT OF ACCESSORIES IN HIS HANDS WHICH I'M WEAK FOR! omg his bracelets and bangles are making me feel hot and bothered.😳😳😳

-Anyways, kalim is sunshine so expect his hands to be warm and full of infectious positivity.🥺

Wanna have a chance to hold kalim's hands? Ur in for a ride fam!🤝

-At first, you's simply be invited for a flying carpet ride by ya sunshine boi, kalim. Pretty simple huh? Nahhhhh! 

-Of course, in order to get to the carpet where kalim is, sunshine boi needs to lift you up in the air.

-Kalim will offer his hands whilst riding on the carpet. Hggnnn such a cliche scene from a movie🥺👌

-But the thing is...... Even if you're already in the magic carpet, sunshine boi will forget he was holding your hands...😏

-He'll keep on telling fun stories and talking to you while both of you are high up in the clouds. Oops.... You noticed you're holding kalim's hands... You went red and flushed from embarrasment. Your hands begin to get sweaty as you stare at the both of yours and kalim's hands together...

-Expect your sunshine boi to take notice of this and ask you what's wrong... You'd point at his hands embarrasingly as you look away in the other direction.

-To your surprise, when you look at kalim again. Kalim is beet red too! A BEET RED KALIM IS RARE! DO NOT FORGET THIS MOMENT GAMERS!🥺🥺🥺

-He'd ask you if it's ok to hold onto your hands maybe just a little bit more???? It's not a sin to ask for more right?😏

-Kalim lets go of your hands for a moment. BUT DONT WORRY! he'll just try to properly hold your hands this time! He'll intertwine his fingers with yours, and maybe lightly squeeze it too.😳

-After this brief akward moment, Kalim goes back to his sunshine tendencies. Smiling brightly like the sun he is🥺🥺🥺

-When your night ride is over PLS DONT LET GO OF KALIM'S HANDS YET! he'll be a bit sad if you do😔👊

-But when the both of you lands on the ground...Kalim would grab the both your hands, and put them both on his cheek.He'd intertwine his fingers with yours from the back of your hands and the both of you probably just wants to melt then and there.

-He'll tell you "please dont go yet!" KALIM UR SO ADORABLE! PLS HUG KALIM!🥺👊

The End ^~^

I just babbled about my hand worshipping tendencies all throughout this headcanon... I'm sorry about that pls. stone me gently for I have sinned....

Tags: @muraenxdae You're the one who suggested this, take responsibility.... @cursedtwst let's lick their hands together ok? @edgymcmytrash u said u wanna be tagged? SUFFER! @nightingale-oath let's be shameless together ok?😳👉👈

[nct-lian]

relationships outside of sm

JENNIE + LIAN: JENLI

so iconic omg like how they do it, i have no idea

they hang out all the time and lian is literally ALWAYS on jennie’s instagram

the two of them once had an instagram story conversation over pigtails

like,, jennie posted a picture of lian’s pigtails for that one bicycle performance on her story and captioned it “pigtail baby” and then lian reposted it on her own story with a picture of jennie’s pigtails, captioning it “pigtail eomma”

speaking of eomma, jennie is genuinely her mother

jennie takes her shopping all the time

and in return, lian buys her food

the interactions these two used to have at award shows were SO CUTE

everyone remembers when jennie pretty much yelled out lian’s name and she just came running over to the members of blackpink after taeyong let her leave :(

i’m crying just thinking about it help

jennie also posted a full on instagram post for lian on her birthday and had such a sweet caption with it

it was something like “my daughter is finally 21 today! i hope she has an amazing day and i can’t wait to see her later tonight to give her a gift :) haneullie, lots of love from jennie eomma”

SPEAKING OF THE GIFT,, jennie bought her a whole ass $9000 necklace from chanel because she knew that lian was looking for more

IM IN TEARS AND SO ARE YOU ADMIT IT RN

jenli kpop bestest duo

dispatch once thought jennie was on a date with a girl but it turned out to just be her walking lian home after going shopping with her so they never posted anything about it

they were embarrassed they got something wrong so i get it

omfg when news came out that lian and jinwoo broke up mama jennie was threatening to punch the shit out of him

KEVIN + LIAN: LIMOON

what i’ve been waiting to write for so long okay here we go

so mf chaotic like there are compilations made of these two that scream “go crazy go stupid”

their time as guest mc’s for inkigayo was probably some of the best kpop content we’d gotten in a long ass time

KEVIN IS CAUTIOUS WHEN LETTING HER MEET HIS MEMBERS

cause she’s such a good friend to him and wtf why would he wanna share

“mine mine mine mine” constant dory vibes 24/7

lian thrives off of calling him by his korean name because she knows it annoys him

he’s constantly teasing her for having bagged milk in toronto so he deserves it

the one time lian and jacob talked to each other they seemed to be getting along too much for kevin’s liking so he really went:

“okay lian isn’t it time for you to go” because he WAS GETTING JEALOUSJCLSJX

their styles are pretty much complete opposites and everytime they take pictures together kevin never forgets to mention how off it all looks

“tf is that why are your clothes so boring”

“okay sNaKe pAnTs” because of that one eric moment on kpop daebak show where he said kevin had pants with snakes on them

ALSO BTW LIANS CLOTHES ARENT FUCKING BORING SHES JUST FANCY LIKE THAT

i’m getting heated let me calm down.

they normally speak in english to each other but since lian seems to be stuttering over her words when she isn’t speaking korean, he mixes in a few korean phrases every now and then to help her out

kevin is arguably the most hype every single time lian performs, like he really thinks there isn’t anything better

LIAN MAKES SURE TO UPDATE HER INSTAGRAM STORY WHENEVER TBZ HAVE A COMEBACK SO NCTZENS GO SUPPORT THEM

LIA + LIAN: LILIA

more lian x the canadian line WOOHOO

lia spent her trainee days really looking up to lian and she’s even mentioned before that she’d love for itzy to get the chance to collab with her for a song

she really has her fingers crossed for that btw

they actually met during an award show when ryujin, chaeryeong and yuna all had to leave because it was past curfew

lian decided to sit next to them and during all the intermissions between performances she, lia and yeji conversed to pass time

they ended up growing a friendship together but lian has a stronger bond with lia

she loves all the girls either way but yk

lia and lian love going to cafes together and taking adorable pictures :(

like whenever lia posts on itzy’s instagram midzeys don’t exactly know whether or not lian would be on it too :0

like lian normally posts all the scenery pictures she gets to keep her instagram pleasing whereas lia posts the pictures the two of them take together

my heart </3

lian treats lia like a whole daughter because it isn’t often she finds girls that are younger than her

*screams in the fact that majority of sm’s female artists are all from 2015 and under*

like when i say lian SPOILS her i’m not joking

she will randomly call lia up like:

“hey i’m gonna get you out of that dungeon, come get some chicken with me”

and then they’ll just hang out together

but only if lian is out of the dungeon herself because wbk she ain’t treated very well </3

EUNWOO + LIAN: WOOLI

their chemistry is fucking insane holy shit

like their acting for past to present was seriously so praised, netizens found it hard to believe it was all just for the show

dating rumours follow these two everywhere,, like everywhere

it’s one of the most popular ships inside ncity when it comes to lian and other idols

i kid you not one tweet said “chanhyeok treated jihye so well in past to present, i’m only wondering how well eunwoo would treat lian 👀”

LIKE STOP PUTTING IDEAS INTO PEOPLES HEADS YOURE KILING ME HERE ISTG

but yeah they do look really good together

and they’re an amazing pair for acting

when eunwoo started working with inyeop for true beauty, he said:

“hyung’s dating my girlfriend” because of the fact that both of them have acted with lian and BOTH of them dated her in the dramas

what a coincidence though

we all cried when we saw chanhyeok and jihye kiss for the first time DONT LIE

EUNWOO FOLLOWS HER ON INSTAGRAM

and they wished each other happy birthday on their instagram stories

there’s actually people who like to think that they dated while filming for past to present andddd they radiate big delulu vibes

like you know liskook shippers? wooli shipped are kinda the same, but not as intense (thank god)

BUT CAN WE BLAME THEM LIKE THEIR CHEMISTRY? THE WAY THEY TALKED TO EACH OTHER? PLEASE

they took a lot of cute pictures together behind the scenes (ノ﹏ヽ)

MOMO + LIAN: LIMO

DANCER DUO DANCER DUO

this ship isn’t actually as popular as we would like it to be, but nonetheless people love limo

a lot of interactions during award shows !!

like for example momo’s fancams always captured her dancing perfectly to lian’s choreo

and lian smiling in momo’s direction

i love them

when lian found out about heechul and momo’s relationship, she asked momo if she was her mom now because of how much of a father figure she considers heechul to be JDFJK

“i mean sure”

they’ve actually done a vlive together before (ᗒᗨᗕ)

it was when lian visited her at the twice dorms and they ended up getting bored so they decided to do a vlive in the living room

THEY PLAYED DARE OR DARE AND LIAN HAD TO DO THE TEARS CHALLENGE (so chan whee) ON MOMOS KARAOKE MACHINE

her throat was dry for the rest of the night

after seeing momo’s hair for the i can’t stop me era, lian actually wanted to cut it like that

but she decided against it because she loves her long hair too much

the two of them met on hit the stage where they competed against each other in a freestyle dance battle

after that they just started casually talking over the phone and became great friends

with the way momo talks about lian, you’d think they’re dating-

“oh, lian- she’s so pretty! i love her a lot!”

and the same goes for lian, she loves talking about momo’s dancing skills

JACKSON + LIAN: JACKLIAN

her dad :/

adopted her with amber liu like a year ago so now she’s just his daughter

supports each other like crazy not even joking

jackson promotes her on instagram and twitter 24/7

THEY HAVE SO MANY INTERACTIONS THANK GOD

lian was once given a ridiculously short dress while attending an award show and jackson gave her his jacket to wear over her legs because she wasn’t provided a blanket :(

(keep in mind, she went there without the members!)

lian added all his music to her playlist :)

once got drunk together and spent like three hours doing karaoke but it’s okay cause it was fun

speaking of getting drunk, jackson’s the cool dad that lets her do whatever she wants

he has his protective moments where he’s like “ma’am where are you going on that short of a dress” but he’s also like “hey wanna go get chicken and soju”

they both appeared on a radio show together as guests and they ruined the whole broadcast because they were too loud

like they kept getting out of their seats to go wave at all the fans outside the window and they were just fighting back and forth about whether or not lian’s extensions look real

according to jackson, they’re “NOT AUTHENTIC ENOUGH- LOVE YOUR HAIR FOR WHAT IT IS, LIANNA HANEUL BAE.” lian’s hair lives matter :/

PLSSS WHEN HYOSEOP AND LIAN STARTED DATING- no

jackson was so proud that his good friend was smooching his other good friend but the protective dad instincts really kicked in

“break her heart and you die no cap”

was surprisingly chill when they broke up though, he was just glad lian didn’t cry

SUNMI + LIAN: SUNLI

SUNMI IS HER MOM OHMYGOD

so many interactions

honestly took lian under wing once she debuted as a soloist

female kpop soloists gotta have each other’s backs in this industry man :(

sunmi calls lian her princess SOBS

lian always hugs sunmi at award shows, like if they’re sitting close together

or if they’re standing next to each other on stage

you bet your ass lian is gripping onto sunmi for dear life

did a photoshoot together for marie claire korea

they’re so hot bro

BUT THEY FIRST MET ON WEEKLY IDOL NOT LONG AFTER LIAN DEBUTED AS A SOLOIST

they were kinda awkward ngl uh

but by the end of it they were besties :DD

and they’ve been besties ever since

lian is the ceo of doing dance covers for sunmi’s songs

cmon lian we’re waiting for tail 👀

sunmi has actually met lian’s grandma </3

like her and lian were hanging out at the dorms while the boys were out on a schedule and her grandma just randomly showed up with homemade food so that was definitely a win

BANG CHAN + LIAN: LICHAN

they’ve been friends for a LOOONGGG time

and chain’s known her since dating back to like, smrookies era when lian was still a red velvet member

like at that time she had no idea he existed, but he was keeping up with her daily :(

chan plays her music on vlives all the time and he always knows the dance moves

like he just dances along in his chair and mumbles the lyrics

we love to see it

a lot of fans ship them together

SURPRISE SURPRSIE AH

only because chan gives off big pining energy

lian only looks at him like “:D” whereas he looks at her like “♡•♡”

kinda sad but

lian promotes him on live so often HVKSVU

“my friend chan is coming back with his group soon, you should check it out! :)”

and the way she just says “my friend chan” LIKE ITS SO OBVIOUSLY A FRIENDZONE BUT HE THINKS ITS ADORABLE

he once got a comment on a vlive to react to lian moments, obviously complying because who wouldn’t

there was this one clip of her saying “my friend chan from stay kids!” and whoever edited the compilation added in squishy noises right after while zooming in on her face

AND CHAN BLUSHED SO HARD NOO

“oh- hahaha, uhh, she’s so cute aw hahahah”

ASHLEY + LIAN: ASHLI

oh god not another lian x mom ship

ASHLEY LOVES LIAN WOAH

like she’s submitted lian’s resume to bm so many times so they could be part of the big tiddie committee together

ashley is constantly, and i mean constantly, reposting all of lian’s posts on her story with captions like “LOOK AT HER GO”

and lian has even discovered all the cool instagram filters because of ashley, and now we get the quality content from her that WE DESERVEEEEE

back when lian’s album came out, all ashley’s story really was was just screenshots of her streaming all the songs and calling them bops

when they first met in person after texting back in forth, ashley spammed her instagram story with pictures of lian that she took without her looking

these two radiate a lot of “YES GIRL WORKKK ITTT TURN THIS WAY OKAYYY POSE POSE POSE” energy

lian’s been featured in one of ashley’s youtube videos and it was when they met for the first time :)

they exchange a lot of gifts through the mail

like lian once found a mug when shopping with doyoung and she thought that it would fit ashley’s taste so she sent it to her apartment

and ever since then they just send random little gifts to each other’s houses

it’s so cute

MATCHING BUCKET HATS THEY HAVE MATCHING BUCKET HATS !!!!!!

ashley talks about lian all the time

she always says that for someone so young, she’s accomplished a lot and she’s really proud of her

they wanna do tiktoks with each other but they never have the time </3

lian spam comments on ashley’s instagram like “WOAH” “OKAYYYY” “YESYESYES”