#and overall a lot of their relationship is told to us like “and then we had a really long conversation about x”.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Song of the Six Realms

a magical YA fantasy romance

follows a girl who’s an indentured musician at an entertainment house, with a talent for playing the qin

when her uncle (her only family) is killed, a Duke buys her contract with a promise to end her contract after one year - and reveals she might be the key to unlock the magical secrets tied to her uncle’s death

not to mention that he’s actually the Duke of Dreams, and she is whisked away to the Celestial Realm which is on the brink of disaster, plagued by demonic monsters

[tzuberry]

(cute) things zerobaseone maknae line do as your boyfriend ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა

pairing shen quanrui (ricky), kim gyuvin, park gunwook, han yujin + gn reader⠀⠀⠀details fluff, established relationship, bulletpoint

cw none ⠀⠀⠀wc 410, 418, 505, 462 (1,795 overall)⠀⠀⠀reading time 7 minutes

note HELLOOOO i havent posted a fic since july 15th and that was my first fic ever on this account omg... thank u for all the notes on my other post LIKE i didnt expect so much + thank you for 90 followers!! also i might start writing for tiot and evnne if i have time 🫡 likes are reblogs are appreciated if u can 💟

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ricky 리키

lets you play with his hair

i think ricky is honestly extremely particular with his hair, and especially who gets to touch it

his hair isn’t very visibly damaged despite getting it dyed frequently / basically not having black hair since he was probably fifteen years old (and he’s nineteen now, so that says something) so he has to take good care of it not to have it fried off

there were stories about him during bopeul where they said they always saw him fully ready with perfectly styled hair whenever he left his room, too

like i’m not even kidding he has to care for his hair a whole lot or by now he could’ve been bald i’m sorry

when his friends—mainly gyuvin—try to play with his hair or comb their fingers through it, ricky allows it but is not that pleased because he put effort into styling his hair and doesn’t want it to get messed up

gyuvin jokingly whines a little, but is over it after a few seconds

when ricky started dating you, although he thoroughly knew you and almost all of your habits and mannerisms, he didn’t think you would be into playing with his hair

you’re hanging out, watching a movie at your apartment while your head is rested on his shoulder when he feels your fingers suddenly brush through the strands of his hair

he turns to look at you, partly shocked but also just wondering what you’re planning on doing to his hair

you shrug your shoulders, keeping your eyes on the tv and not minding him one bit

“what are you doing?” he asks, a little amused

he expects you to reply playfully, to exchange banter or something like that

but instead, you say, “your hair is really soft, you know,” as you proceed to curl a portion with your finger acting as the curling iron

ricky quite literally folded that day... now he lets you do whatever you want with his hair

you can braid it, curl it, whatever

he doesn’t mind as long as it’s you, even if he spent nearly an hour fixing it this morning

you’re in a cafe talking to gyuvin and gunwook, sitting at the other side of the table when you lift your arm to twirl ricky’s hair, him not remotely flinching at the contact

gyuvin is pleasantly surprised to witness this sight

“you don’t let me do that,” he sulks, aimed at ricky

your boyfriend scoffs. “you’re not [name].”

gyuvin 규빈

always texts you + makes sure you’ve eaten

okay i think i’ve seen a lot of people say this already idk but i think it’s soooo true

gyuvin texts you excessively

like. about anything

there was one instance when his little brother had a crush on a girl, and gyuvin literally went to you for help and his brother didn’t even have an inkling of what was happening

gyuvin (DO NOT REPLY): [NAME] MY LITTLE BROTHER... is... growing up :(

gyuvin (DO NOT REPLY): he used to be so small i could put him in my pocket and now

yn: what happened???

gyuvin (DO NOT REPLY): he LIKES A GIRL. who told him it was okay to get a girlfriend? at his toddler age??

yn: gyuvin i love you but we started dating when We were his age

and then he continued to ask you for advice on how to help his brother get the girl he liked

there’s more instances of him oversharing his brother’s life with you, but that ends there

he also buys you snacks all the time

even if you don’t want it. even if you verbally, very clearly, straightforwardly tell him you’re not the tiniest bit hungry

he’s basically your mother oml

he makes those little snack baggies for you to take

before you both graduated, gyuvin would bring you lunch. it didn’t just stop at snacks

he would ask his mom to help him cook for you

and he’d make it all cute and stuff like shaping the rice to be your favorite character

he’d pack it to school and give it to you in the morning. omg

mixing those two things together, you get “have you eaten yet” texts all the time

it’s two pm, and you were so stuck while helping a friend that you regrettably forgot to eat lunch. ‘it’s okay,’ you assure yourself, ‘i had a late breakfast’

gyuvin texts you, asking the usual “have you eaten lunch????” and you lie and say yes

and then your phone rings and you know you can’t avoid it anymore because he can see through your voice when you lie

from the speaker of your phone, gyuvin’s voice is unbelievably attractive—but you choose to ignore that fact for now

“[name],” he deadpans. “be honest. have you eaten?”

choosing to accept defeat, you exhale deeply. “no.”

gyuvin suddenly hangs up and only a text is left on your screen

gyuvin (DO NOT REPLY): i’m coming over in. like 30 minutes i have to ask my mom to help me cook

gunwook 건욱

teaches you how to dance

gunwook is SO good at dancing it’s so crazy

i love watching him on stage because he’s the best performer ever. like he seems to genuinely enjoy it and i hope he never loses that love for dancing / singing / rapping

you on the other hand..... you could be good at dancing too, just definitely not as good as gunwook

so whenever your scheduled dates are interrupted by his extracurriculars at school, you decide to tag along with him, if the members of his clubs don’t mind (which they usually don’t)

one of his extracurriculars is the dance team

and most of the time, when your preplanned dates are cancelled because of an extracurricular he has lined up for him, it is almost always dance

so you end up following him to the practice room, silently watching him in the corner so as to not obstruct their view of the mirror by sitting directly in front of them

his eyes light up with the flame of passion you adore so much, and you’re so content that even if your date is cancelled because of this, you’re not annoyed and you still get to indirectly spend some time with him by spectating him as he does what he likes

in the short breaks that he gets, he takes the opportunity to sit beside you on the floor and ask about your day

when the practice session ends, he asks if it’s okay with you if he stays to polish up the routine, to which you say yes and offer to stay with him because everyone else has started to leave

after a while, he grows tired and plops down next to you

gunwook chuckles. “i’m sorry for cancelling our date and making you stay with me.”

“it’s alright, i like watching you dance.” you smile

he abruptly stiffens up, irises reflecting the light, making his eyes glow excitedly. “do i dance well? what do you think?”

you giggle. “you dance very well. a lot better than i can, for sure.”

“mhm, yeah?” he grins widely, and you know what he’s going to do

gunwook jumps up on his feet, extending his hand out to you to help you get up

“you just need a little help.” he nods proudly. “you’re lucky i’m your boyfriend.”

you take his hand, and he leads you to the center of the room and he starts to dance with you ballroom style (???) like the waltz and stuff

he guides your arms over his shoulder to circle his neck, and his hands rest on your waist and then he starts counting, “4... 3... 2... 1... like this,” as he takes a singular step in different directions, encouraging you to mirror his movements

you almost trip, but you tightly cling on to his shoulders before you can fall

gunwook laughs. “enough dancing for today?”

“yes, please,” you agree, letting your body fall forwards into a hug with him

“alright. if you’re not that tired, are you still up for that date?”

yujin 유진

(tries to) initiate / enjoys physical touch

yujin doesn’t seem like his love language is physical touch.... i know gyuvin does it a lot to him and he kinda pretends to not like it but it’s so endearing and i sooo believe he deep down loves it

it’s the same with you, but he’s the one intiating it

he never thought he liked skinship all that much, because he would even jokingly say it pestered him a little at times when gyuvin would dote on him

but when it came to you, and when you first started dating, he was itching to hold your hand

it was so new to him because he never craved for anyone’s physical affection before

all his older friends like gyuvin and gunwook would always just.... initiate skinship for him and he thought he didn’t like it but

suddenly you come along, and you don’t even try to hold his hand

he thought couples were supposed to hold hands?? and hug??

but you’re not budging and it’s so frustrating

while walking you home from school like usual, as you tell him about your day, he tries to gather the courage to intertwine your hands

it doesn’t work, and he’s left with cold hands as he stares at you enter your front door

“next time,” he whispers to no one but the wind

next time comes and still... he’s too nervous to hold your hand

the distance between your palms is less than four inches, and all he has to do is take the leap—besides, nothing could go that wrong. you like him and he likes you

he purposely bumps the back of his hand with yours, but doesn’t actually take your hand in his

he awkwardly rubs his nape, unsure of what to do now

your brows knit together, as you’re now aware of yujin’s weird behavior

“yujin?” you tug on his uniform sleeve. “is something wrong?”

“no! nothing’s wrong,” he quickly denies, “don’t worry about it.”

“okay... can i see your hand, though?” you request, and it successfully confuses him because why do you want to see his hand?

he obliges, giving it to you palm up when you lace your fingers with his

“i’ve noticed you trying to hold my hand since last week,” you say, giggling. “i was waiting for you to do it, but i guess you’re too shy.”

“i’m not that shy,” yujin defends, looking down at your interlocked hands... ‘this is a good feeling,’ he thinks

you nod passively. “it’s fine. it’s one of the reasons why i like you.” you swing both your hands back and forth in the space between you

yujin doesn’t try to retort, only relishing the feeling of your hand in his

skinship isn’t so bad... maybe he could get used to this.

[fanfic-lover-girl]

Thanks to everyone who voted!

I will admit that I am a bit surprised Joey won. I thought Kaito would have been up there with Kaiba. Poor Fubuki deserved more love :(

Thankfully, the Majoume brothers had zero votes (good to see common sense prevail). I was shocked that Amon got votes though. This is the dude who was hooking up with his (adopted) sister and who despised his baby brother for taking his place as the favoured male heir. Christopher Arclight was a surprise as well. It hurts a bit that he got more votes than Fubuki 😭😭😭

If I had to choose the best brothers, it would be: Jonouchi, Fubuki, Bommer, Kaito and Rishid. I will say that Rishid's relationship with Marik is a bit...strange. It made me feel uncomfortable the way how Rishid submitted to Marik. While I do admire his devotion, it would be naive to say that this relationship is not impacted by the abuse in the Ishtar household, especially how Rishid was considered more of a servant than family in Father Ishtar's eyes. Nevertheless, Rishid loves Marik a lot so he deserves the honor and I don't mind him being in the top 5.

Next, the brothers who are overall good but have some problematic relationships/behaviours: Kaiba, Ryo and Christopher. I love my man Kaiba but the dude has some emotional issues which makes him a bit toxic at times. Even if you ignore the OG Yugioh manga and Death-T, you have to remember how Kaiba used Mokuba against Gozabura. How kid Kaiba told Mokuba that he can't trust anyone (I never realized it while watching but a commenter indicated this sentiment was influenced by how their family exploited them before dumping them at the orphanage) which is not exactly healthy advice - he is a kid having a bad time so Seto deserves grace. How Kaiba literally spent all of Battle City trying to forget his past. Kaiba loves Mokuba and will move heaven and hell for him...but the dude has problems.

Ryo is actually a pretty good brother; I think people see him as a bad brother because he uses tough love a lot with Sho. His stint with the shock collars as Hell Kaiser was terrible but then again Ryo was going through a young adult crisis and it's not like he forced Sho to duel. Still loses points though. Chris seemed like a good brother when I watched the sub. He was heartbroken when his little brothers were taken after his dad disappeared and he seemed like a happy guy in flashbacks. Chris was just screwed over with the Tron fiasco and adopted the cold demeanour of Daddy's perfect soldier. I am sure after the family reconciliation, he became better again.

Let me end with the Manjoume brothers. It's a shame we never really saw their characters again after the school duel episode. Chosaku gained respect for Jun and it would have been wonderful to see how the brothers' relationship would have developed after that. It's obvious that Jun still wants to earn their respect in season 4 so it's not like they hate each other, no matter what fanfics try to make me believe.

Anyway, thanks again for indulging me in this poll!

Best Big Brother in Yugioh

The family relationships is one of the best parts of the Yugioh series for me, with a lot of the rivals being big brothers. Hence this fun poll!

I only watched the first four shows hence why I am only going up to Zexal. I excluded twins, middle children, and filler characters. That's why Shark, Rua, Thomas, Zigfried von Schroeder and Amelda are not here. Rua and Shark act like big brothers but the dynamic is not quite the same as the others here. Thomas is a big brother to III but he is also a younger brother to V so he has middle kid syndrome. I was adding the filler character but I ran out of space lol.

Note:

Someone can be horrible to others and still be a good brother, so villains/antagonists can be good big brothers.

I am hoping for an objective, third-person opinion of the character. Meaning this is not about how the younger sibling feels about their brother but instead a critique on how well the brother actually loves his sibling. Sometimes siblings look at their brothers with rose-tinted glasses after all.

Propaganda

Personally, as much as I love Kaiba, my fav big brother has to be Jonounchi! The way how Joey treats women overall is so precious and he adores Serenity so much it hurts. Even better, Jonouchi never hurt other people or became a worse person for his sister's benefit. I really like the idea of a down-to-earth boy like Joey having a sweet baby sister instead of a brother like most of the guys on this list.

[russellsppttemplates]

She fits right in (Oscar Piastri)

You meet Oscar's family back home

Note: english is not my first language. I know I said write based on the order you send them in, but this one got priority for obvious reasons! 🫶

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

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Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"How long is the layover?", you asked Oscar as you put your backpack on properly once you took off your cardigan since you felt quite hot, "three hours", he replied, "we can go to the lounge and have some food first, freshen up", he suggested.

"Uuuuhh, freshening up in a public bathroom before I meet your parents in your childhood home, charming - you didn't have to make it so easy for me, Osc", you offered, going up to him so he could lace your hand in his and guide you through the airport.

Even you though you had travelled to see a couple of races from the garage, you had always kept inside Europe so long hail flights like this weren't something you were used to. You felt tired, sweaty, a little bit dirty from touching things everywhere and overall not that great. Still, it was a privilege to feel like this because of the reasons you did.

You found yourselves a table and made your order, Oscar staying there while you freshened up in the bathroom. Baby wipes, deodorant, brushing your teeth and washing your face would have to do for now.

"Do you feel a little more human?", he asked you once you sat back down, kissing his cheek soflty as he forwarded you your iced latte.

"Yes, actually I do", you snickered, taking a sip before speaking again, "are you sure your parents are fine with this whole arrangement?", you wondered.

"They're fine with it, you shouldn't be nervous, they already like you", he reassured. You had met his parents briefly when they travelled to see him race in Silverstone, but with the whole event taking up the schedule, you got to know eachother on a somewhat superficial level. Still, if the first impression was that good, it was a nice start.

"I'm not nervous nervous - at least not in the way I think I'd be, but is probably the jet lag and my body can't afford to have a freak out right now", you joked.

The last flight was spent with you sleeping on Oscar, arm rest up while you were cuddled up to his side, head nuzzled on his neck while he watched something to keep himself entertained and not get lost on his thoughts.

His family's opinion mattered to him and he was nervous to truly hear it. Not because of you - he was sure you were going to do brilliantly, but it wouldn't be the first time in history where seeing things up close, whether it was the lifestyle associated or being faced with what staying in a relationship looked like in the long run, made people leave. His parents had met your briefly before and now you were being introduced to everyone else. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, the neighbour he knew growing up. Everyone's eyes would be on you, and so would their opinions.

Rubbing your cheek softly, Oscar coaxed you out of sleep, "we're about to land, gorgeous, you might want to pop your ears", he muttered as you blinked your eyes open, kissing his palm before sitting up straight, doing as he told you before you fixed your hair, "do I look nice enough?", you wondered.

"You always look gorgeous", he assured, kissing your cheek softly.

You boarded off the plane and walked to the customs service, "they're quite quick at this time of year since a lot of people travel foe the race", Oscar explained as you were quickly checked before you walked to baggage claim, getting your suitcases and stopping twice to take photos Oscar's fans asked once they noticed it was him, "we're counting on a good race for you!", they wished as you smiled, handing them the phone back and waving once you walked to the spot Chris said him and Nicole would be waiting for you in the parking lot.

"How was your flight, dears?", Nicole was the first to speak as she embraced her son, followed by Chris.

"It was good, didn't have much turbulence", Oscar said as he saw your mother engulf you in a hug.

"It was nice, yes", you smiled, "very tiring getting to the land down under, I have to admit", you chuckled.

"Oh, that it is! Last time we did it, I felt so dirty I immediately went to the bathroom to shower once we got home", she giggled.

"I might actually do that, if you don't mind - my whole body just feels icky", you admitted, knowing you had arrived at early hours in the morning already and you shouldn't make much noise to the people who wanted to sleep.

"Of course it's fine! C'mon, let's pack the car and head home!", Chris encouraged you as he put the luggage on the car trunk while you got inside the car.

By the time you got home, Nicole encouraged you to head straight for the shower you so much needed while Oscar got something to eat. When you exited the ensuite bathroom, your boyfriend was unpacking his own suitcase.

"If you don't mind, I'll unpack those tomorrow? Or in the morning? What time is it already?", you muttered as he had closed the blinds, leaving the room completely dark with only the bedside lamp on.

"It's fine, love", he smiled, kissing the top of your head, "you smell nice", he chuckled, squeezing your waist softly before he went to have a shower.

Maybe it wasn't the most polite, but this was going to be your room for the next couple of days considering you had flown in early so Oscar could spend as much time as he could with his family, so you undid the bed. The fresh sheets enveloped you as you tied your hair in a messy bun just to get it away from your eyes.

The last thing you remember coherently is Oscar laying next to you, pulling you to cuddle up to him and kissing your forehead sweetly with a "Goodnight, my love".

You woke up a few hours later, looking at your watch and see that it was already past midday and you were in bed, "morning", you heard Oscar's groggy morning voice whisper into your back, littering kisses on your shoulders.

"Hey", you smiled, turning around and seeing his handsome smiley face, "it's the afternoon already", you pointed out.

"It usually is when I wake up after coming back home", he shrugged his shoulders, "my parents are used to it. Also, they said they'd be having lunch at my grandma's, so they're not home - it's probably why it's so quiet".

"Do they want us to meet them there?", you wondered, not wanting to part your boyfriend from his family.

"We can if you don't mind", he added, "you could meet my grandma, too!", he tried to see if you felt comfortable with it.

"Yes! Let me just get ready quickly!", you smiled, pecking his lips and leaving the bed.

"Why so excited?", Oscar asked as you were leaving his parents' house after having something quick to eat and you got your latte.

"You have told me many stories from your grandma and grandma's house is always the best!", you winked at him before you wiggled your brows.

"What do you mean it's always the best?", he quirked a brow.

"Grandma's are the ones who have the best photo collections in the family - C'mon Oscar, it's going to be so fun!", you joined your hands together in a cartoon villain like way, fingertips touching as you made a mischief expression.

"Did Lando set you up for this?", Oscar said as he unlocked the car.

"Yes! The more I get, the more Quadrant hoodies he says he'll get me!", you winked, pulling his arm to the car so he could drive you both to his grandparents' house.

"Can we come in?", Oscar announced as you both walked in through the back door, seeing his parents sat at the table while an older lady was doing something at the kitchen counter.

"Oscar, my love!", she yelled, wiping her hands on the nearest kitchen towell before she threw herself at her grandson, hugging him tightly while you greeted Oscar's parents briefly.

"And this is the young woman who stole Oscar's heart, how are you, sweetheart? You're very welcomed here!", she said, pulling you in for a tight hug immediately.

"I'm Y/N, thank you for welcoming me into your home, it's beautiful", you smiled warmly.

"Have you two had something to eat? I can make you something quickly if you'd like!", she asked and you both shook your head, "I'm good, but thank you".

"I was actually getting ready to make some Lamingtons and some Rum Balls, too. Y/N, has Oscar ever baked them for you?", she mused.

"No, I don't think he has", you looked at him for confirmation as he shook his head, blush erupting on his cheeks, "I would never make them as good as yours!", he defended himself.

"Well, darling, I'm going to make some for you too then!", she smiled.

"I'd love to help if you want a hand, maybe then I'll pester Oscar to make them for me back home", you smiled.

"Oh, good! Let's get started then!", she exclaimed, getting you an apron and guiding you through the recipe.

"You can beat these while I measure the flower", she delegated, "it has to be very fluffy so the sponge is firm enough", she advised as you beat the contents inside the bowl.

"How is that going?", Oscar asked coming up from behind you as you were transferring the batter to the lined tin.

"I need to use the bathroom, dear, but when you finish that, can you put it in the oven and take the other one, please?", she questioned, "this way we'll have a new batch to work with everytime", she smiled before excusing herself.

"How is she really doing with you?", your boyfriend waited for a honest answer.

"It's been really fun, truly! She's been telling me stories about when she was younger and what growing up here was like, she fed me some of those things, those rolled up things", you pointed at the plate on the counter.

"Those are rum balls! Love, you don't even like rum!", he pinched your cheek before you out the tray in the oven.

"I wasn't going to break her heart and tell her no, and they're not that bad! Just not my favourite things ever!", you reasoned with him, wiping your hands on the kitchen towell, "but it's been good, she's very lovely - and I am this close at getting to your baby stories", you pinched your thumb and poster finger together.

"You're impossible", he chuckled, stealing a kiss from your lips before his grandma got back.

"She's a lovely girl, Oscar", his mother said as she sat down next to him on the chair on the decking outside as they saw his father gather the supplies for a barbecue. His grandmother suggested and afternoon barbecue for when you were done with baking.

"I'm very happy I brought her home to meet everyone", Oscar smiled, "she's really one of a kind".

"Is she dealing well with all of this? I'm sure she's not used to it", Nicole wondered, "people taking pictures, interrupting your day to day lives, you're not always there for her", she trailed off.

"Well, neither am I, right?", Oscar chuckled, "I think she's been doing well, we speak about it every now and again to check and make sure we're both well with all of it. We don't post eachother much, that's been helpful, and she has all her social media private".

"It's nice, she's an incredible young woman, and you two are so great together", Nicole complimented.

"I think I was more nervous to come out here than her, to be honest", Oscar said, prompting his mother to raise her eyebrows, "not because of her! I was nervous because she's the first person I've brought home - like, home home - and I didn't know how you would react with her being here and everything. It's not like it's a dinner and she can run away or leave for her own place if she feels uncomfortable or if you guys didn't like her", he trailed off the last part.

His family's opinion mattered to him, and as romantic as it often sounded in movies, he wasn't sure how he would proceed if his family strongly felt against your relationship.

"Well, on our end, we're fine", his mother nudged his shoulder, "she's so lovely, Oscar, you would be a fool if you let her get away from you. She's smart, caring, loving - she fits quite well with grandma", she pointed to you two with her eyes as the older lady taught you how to dip the cake in the chocolate and then the coconut, laughing together as you seemed to get more on your hands than on the actual sweet food, "she loves you dearly, I can tell. Of course we approve. But, if she wants to make a run for it, well - that's going to be a little bit tricky at the very least", she joked as she saw her mother help you with a kitchen towell, "though that doesn't look like it's going to be anytime soon".

You fit right in with his family and he couldn't be happier.

[kelin-is-writing]

Some of you… Guys… who lack empathy and overall emotional intelligence, kinda love to run your mouth waaaaaay too much and end up saying things that make 0 sense. This fandom is also waaaaay too comfortable with victim blaming Rei and Touya for everything that has happened to the Todorokis while Endeavor gets away with it, for no reason at all at that.

“OhHh BuT hE fElLs SoRrY fOr EvErYtHiNg He DiD”

I’m going to be completely honest with you all: I don’t give a flying fuck that he’s now swimming in his sorrows. He better be drowning in them actually. Because there’s a consequence to everything we do. ALWAYS. Besides, if he was going to feel ohh so sorry about what he did to his family, then he simply shouldn’t have done none of it to begin with.

He can’t go on fill his child like a balloon the way he did and then expect said balloon to not explode after he had blew way too much air into it. That’s egotistical.

You also can’t buy your wife (who was still a minor at the time), have her pop out kids like she’s some kind of kids machine for your greedy needs and even force two of them on her before you go ahead and start physically and mentally abusing her, then expect for there to not be any repercussions on your family’s relationships.

Blaming a kid who got his whole life and being manipulated and then gaslighted by his own father, who remembered he indeed had an eldest son only when it was too late, and a woman who was sold to a greedy, egotistical, egocentric, narcissistic and selfish man when she was a kid who had one option worse than the other (We all know that the Himuras ain’t any more sane than Endeavor) is so weird guys, please.

Touya was treated like a human weapon by his own father, who as soon as he saw no more use in him and his quirk just casted the kid aside (which was before Natsuo was even conceived btw). So where’s the favoritism in this? Where? Because I can’t see it anywhere, no matter how hard I look for it. And why is that? Because there’s none. So you lot can stop being delusional about this topic, ‘cause it doesn’t stand up not even if you force it. You can’t erase the manipulation (into making him think he could become the #1 Hero, surpass All Might for his father and be the strongest) and then the gaslighting (telling him he can’t do any of that anymore since his quirk won’t permit it, telling Touya he should give up on his dream because it will never happen after Endeavor ingrained all that into his mind) just like that, then call all of this favoritism. Do you all even know what favoritism is? Or you just find out words on the Internet, ignore completely their meaning, and run with them blindly? Because I am bewildered by how some of you guys be coming on here to just say anything… Touya got failed by his parents and his siblings, because he was ignored and neglected by his siblings as much as he was by his parents (Shoto excluded because Endeavor was busy grooming him this time around) but none of you guys even call them out on Touya going through all of that alone, for some reason, while being okay with what Natsuo and Fuyumi told him as soon as they got into the battlefield. Like they ain’t bad siblings too and Endeavor wasn’t the reason they all lost each others as a family, literally do not piss me off I beg. I’m firmly convinced some of you guys pick and choose who you defend in the Todofam, but like… Everything you guys say makes no sense? It just shows me that some of you lack, as I said at the very beginning of the post, empathy and emotional intelligence. Which is sad.

You all can say “We’ve all gone through hard times alone” as much as you want, but that is not normal at all, towards any time of relationship but especially towards family. It’s not healthy and it can hurt a person a lot, making them close in themselves and when it starts to hurt from the inside the moment you stop getting all of the pent up stress inside it’s no good at all. And for the record, Touya (or just anyone) venting or opening himself to Natsuo about what he’s going through it’s not trauma dumping. It’s never trauma dumping if you genuinely care for someone (clarifying this before any of you emotional ignorant peoples come at me about this 🫠). So Natsuo and Fuyumi being in all of this too shouldn’t be used as an excuse for pushing their brother’s concerns and feelings under the rug, families are supposed to go through these type of situations as a family if they want to keep living happily as such, but they remembered this after one of them died and their youngest sibling was being still raised as a fighting machine by their abusive father. So, mind you, but they all (except Shoto) owe Touya some big ass apologies written down on a letter with tears if I gotta be honest.

As for Rei; she became a mother young, went through a lot all alone because mind you Mr. Husband was waaaaay too busy trying to groom their son into a Hero machine that could beat someone he is incapable of beating (Because a nullity will always be a nullity after all, even when becoming a #1 after the former #1 retirement, if they insist on projecting ofc) to help and guide his young and inexperienced wife through a wedding like theirs. How was she supposed to not lose her mind after being sold, neglected, beaten up, verbally abused, forced to pop out kids like a gachapon, seeing her fourteen years old son lose himself into the void because of his father and then he dies too, without never getting love nor affection from his father (the one he looked up to) the way a kid wants, needs and is supposed to get which is something I’m 100% sure led her to depression. You all diminish too much the grief a mother feels when she loses her kids. There’s much a mother, a human, can handle; and for Rei it got to a point where every trace of Endeavor disgusted her so much her whole body rejected his entire existence leading her to a mental breakdown. One that was due to come earlier if we think about it, but she was strong enough for her remaining kids until she couldn’t do it anymore. What she did to Shoto is wrong, I know and I acknowledge, but she’s a traumatized person who sees her abuser everywhere she goes because, unfortunately, it’s the person she was forced to marry. She apologized to Shoto right away, because she was still mature and sane enough to recognize her mistake right when it happened.

But Endeavor’s ego is so big that it took him his eldest son nearly blowing everyone up and becoming a walking torch before he finally apologized to the whole family for his wrong doings of 10 years prior. Which is crazy to me.

So I’m gonna need you all to stop erase Endeavor’s wrongdoings and try to gaslight the whole fandom into blaming Rei and Touya for the mistakes of someone else, because they’re the biggest victims in all of this shit.

That being said, hope y’all get well soon 🫶🏻💜

[cacoetheswriting]

honesty: the music video

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 2.3k summary: after a long day on set, you can't wait to get it on with your costar.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: mature themes, literally smut with a minor plot, established relationship, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, praise kink, dom-ish eddie, adult language, heavy use of pet names, mentions of aftercare — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

celebrity skin. masterlist <- part of this lil' universe, but can totally be read as a stand-alone. timeline wise, this takes place somewhere after part 3 and before end part 5.

“We want it to be sexy.”

“But not too sexy.”

“Revealing.”

“But not too revealing.”

“Sounds like you guys don’t know what you want,” Eddie chimes in, interrupting the back and forth of your respective teams.

You stifle a giggle.

“That’s ‘cause of the two distinct styles,” someone from your team clarifies, “We wanna be respectful.”

“For sure,” one of the creatives on the Corroded Coffin side agrees. There’s a short pause. “We will have you two kiss at the end, though.”

At that, Eddie smirks. He looks at you from across the table and you could just about melt right there, blood rushing to your face, warming your cheeks.

“That won’t be a problem,” he says confidently and winks.

-

Honesty was a guaranteed hit. Top of the charts. Everybody that’s been so far involved in the project said it. They praised it. From the bass, drums, to the guitar and vocals. The production value was off the scale. A dream arrangement that would stand the test of time.

All the song needed was a music video equally as captivating.

A back and forth discourse began shortly after you first started recording with the band: whose style should the clip resemble more?

Corroded Coffin screamed all things dark, maybe a little gory. Their usual expression featured slightly melancholy undertones and a lot of references to all things Dungeons & Dragons. Imaginative, for sure. An artistry that had rarely been seen in the genre. 

Although it’s been an artistry vastly different from yours. 

The glitter hadn’t necessarily been your idea, but it certainly became a signature of sorts. Anything sparkly, always. And music videos that told a story. Most often one of love since that’s what you idolised ever since you were a kid — it obviously helped that love also sold millions of copies.

Eddie’s team argued that it’s the band’s song and you’re just a feature, therefore the accompanying video should lean into their style. Your management team was hesitant to agree. Calculating risk in case the lines get blurred a little too much and your pristine image shifts to the opposite end of the spectrum. Hours of arguments. Hours of negotiations. None of which you, or the rockstar were even mildly aware of. Too lost in each other's eyes and soft cotton sheets. 

Eventually, a compromise, of sorts, was found.

Ernest Hemingway’s The Killers influenced, in part, a 1946 film noir of the same title, with Ava Gardner and Burt Lancaster taking the lead. The movie, in turn, inspired the black and white music video.

Done up in flair of the characters, Kitty Collins and Ole Anderson (aka Swede), you recreated iconic scenes alongside the brown-eyed rockstar. The rest of the band was also dressed to the nines. Side characters that played their instruments in the background of main shots. They blended in well, while adding a unique spin to the known story. 

Overall, the Honesty shoot quickly became a big spectacle. Bigger than anything Eddie Munson and his band of closest friends has ever been lucky enough to be a part of.

Intricate sets. Glamourous. In front of cameras and bright lights, you and your scene partner, Eddie, mouthed along the lyrics to the song as if they were a script. And with every scene, as if the two of you were the only people actually there, no equipment and no crew, you got lost a tiny bit. Lost in the chocolate of the rockstar’s wide gaze. In the way he smelled. The style of that decade suited the brunette greatly, so you became lost in how he looked in this character. Dapper. Unlike you’ve ever witnessed him before. He committed to the role too. A certain swag in his movements. How he touched you so hesitantly, delicately because that’s what the video required.

By the end of the night, after the director yells, “Cut!” to signalise a wrap, a round of applause for all involved in this project, you’re feeling hot and bothered. Sweaty, though not because you just completed a full day’s work. No. Somehow, you found the Corroded Coffin frontman even more attractive than at the start of that day — something you didn’t think was possible. When you glance in his direction, he’s already staring you down, and you know he feels the same way.

Backstage, inside your trailer, you’re sitting cross-legged on the couch. Fingertips at your lips as you wait for that inevitable knock on your door. You know it’s only a matter of time considering the build up of tension throughout the shoot. From the lingering touches and that kiss the director had you two repeat over and over and over…

Logically, you could wait until the two of you were home. Back at Eddie’s Hidden Hills mansion, away from prying eyes and ears. In a bed that’s become all too familiar. Far from possible interruptions. Logic however, well, right now, logic was taking a back burner ‘cause you needed him now. Desperately. And without a doubt, Eddie needed you too.

A knock. Then again. But the rockstar doesn’t wait for you to answer. He lets himself in. 

“What happened to the wig?” You ask, raising a brow.

“It was itchy,” he replies with a slight laugh, then shakes his head. “I much prefer my natural locks.” 

“That’s too bad,” you say with a slight shrug, “You looked quite smart with that short hair.”

Eddie hangs his head with a smile, though his eyes don’t leave yours. Not even for a second. That’s when you notice the glimmer. That look, the reason he’s here, just like you predicted. So you return the expression. Only yours is a little more sly. Tempting him. Teasing. 

“I had fun today.”.

“Me too.”

There’s a lot that happens in the seconds after you stand up. A lot that happens quickly. 

Eddie reaches for your wrist, pulling you closer before wrapping his, for once, ringless hand around yours completely. He presses it to the middle of his chest, holding it against his heart. You can feel it beating and that’s enough to make you melt ‘cause it’s strong and you swear it skips at the contact. His other hand reaches for the base of your throat. He holds it gently, caressing upwards until he’s gripping your jaw. 

“Kissing you in front of all those other people kinda got me going,” he admits in a low tone.

Naughty, that’s what you want to say, but you don’t get the chance ‘cause his lips crash into yours. Hungry. Desperate. Rough. Heat rushes through your body at the sudden contact, no different than any other time his mouth found yours. You’re at his mercy, always, and he knows it well. 

His tongue glides along your top lip and you part your lips to accept him without hesitation. He wastes no time sliding into your mouth, letting this tongue work in tandem with yours as he tilts his head to further deepen the kiss. The hand holding yours lets go, instead finding home on the small of your back, pushing you as close to him as humanly possible. His other hand lets go of your jaw, albeit not completely. Ghosting along the side of your neck before you feel him wrap it around your throat, squeezing lightly. It’s nothing new for Eddie to be a little rougher with you, but there’s something about this moment, after a full day of moderate teasing and borderline foreplay, that causes a moan to burst through you when he squeezes again, only harder.

The rockstar pulls back, sporting a devilish grin. “Making such pretty noises for me and we haven’t even gotten to the best part.”

“Do your worst, Eds.” It’s a dare. Nothing sweet about it.

He smirks at the challenge and before you can register what exactly is happening, Eddie is lifting you up swiftly, hiking up your dress in the process, only to drop you down onto the sofa with a gentle thud. You’re wide-eyed as he unbuckles his belt with one hand, the other tugging at the pantyhose the wardrobe lady had you wear for the last scene of the video. He partially rips them off of you, then he hikes his index finger along the band of your underwear, eagerly pulling them down your legs until they’re wrapped around your ankles, with the reminisce of your stockings.

“The heels stay on,” the rockstar instructs, pushing your legs apart with force and positioning himself in between. All you can do is nod. Half-naked, half in costume. Same as him.

In the space of a heartbeat, his lips are on yours again. This time they don’t stay for long, instead moving downwards towards your chest. When he squeezes your breast through the silk material of your dress, he compliments how fucking good you looked, “I wanted to ravish you the second I saw you, baby.”

You whimper at his words, and at the fact that his now freed cock is gently brushing against your wet folds. Not quite breaching, just teasing you further. Only adding to the overall stimulation. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot. So fucking pretty. And all mine.” Eddie’s breathing into your bare chest ‘cause somehow in the moment your dress has slipped down ever so slightly and your tits made an appearance. Fingers from one hand are digging into your hip, holding you in place, while the other has you by the ribs. Thumb brushing your soft skin while his hot mouth is sucking on your hardened nipple.

Your eyes are closed. You’re not sure when you closed them. He’s invading your senses all at once. Just when you feel like you can’t take it anymore, when you want to whither and plead for him to touch you where you need him most, Eddie plunges himself into you without warning and your eyes snap open. 

“Oh God…” he groans, drawing his hips back only to slam them in again, making your body bounce against him. “Fuck, baby. Jesus.”

You sob in pleasure as Eddie knocks the wind out of you with each relentless thrust, still increasing his speed. Heavy panting and grunting fills the trailer, along with the sounds of where his cock slams against your sweet juices. He’s sitting straight now. Eyes are fixated on the mess you’re both making, where his length disappears in and out of you, while you admire the way his locks fall naturally in place. Although briefly, ‘cause you’re arching your back the next second, rolling your eyes to the back of your head when he hits that sweet spot.

“So. Fucking. Pretty.” He growls. “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re all stretched open like this, sweetheart. Your pussy was made for my cock, baby. You take it so well. You take this big dick so well, my good girl. Fucking made for me. Ain’t that right, dollface?”

“Made for you, Eds.” You just about whisper back, nodding your head feverishly.

Slap. His hand makes contact with your thigh and you practically wail. “That’s right,” he praises, “Made for me. So fucking tight for me.” Slap. Slap. Slap. 

Eddie’s cock starts to swell. You can feel it expand inside of you, then again when he thrusts back in. It has you heaving. The speed he’s established is close to becoming a little too much for the two of you and he drops his weight slightly, allowing you to wrap your arms around him, nails digging into his bare back. He can sense that you too are close and he’s trying hard to hold back, make this moment last longer, but his body refuses to slow down. Chasing the way your glistening pussy chokes his length. 

“Where do you want me baby?”

“Inside,” you croak out. “Cum in me, Eddie. Please. I need you to fill me up.”

“M’mph—” He chokes out, movements growing more and more erratic. The whole trailer is shaking at this point, that’s what it feels like to the two of you anyway. “Everybody out there will know what a good little slut you are. Not that innocent. Wanting me to fill you full of my cum, fuck.” 

Slap. Slap. Against your thigh. 

“Please, Eddie.” 

Slap.

“Shh… I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.” He coos, “Gonna pump you full. Gonna make you see stars while my cum drips out of you.”

That’s when you shatter around him, uncontrollable desperate squeals making him groan louder as he continues. It’s sloppy, messy, and once you’ve completely unravelled underneath him, the rockstar can’t contain himself any longer. He lets out a broken moan as ropes and ropes of his warm spend start to throb into your hole.

His body gives up at the last spur and he drops flat on top of you, although not without a loose kiss placed to your jaw. His cock remains inside of your pussy. You can feel it pulsing until, after a few minutes, it no longer matches the beat of your heart.

Eddie lifts himself then. He kisses you softly and you smile against his mouth. When he eventually slips out and stands, he tells you not to move, that he’ll grab a towel from the small trailer bathroom and will help you get cleaned up.

“Wardrobe is going to kill us,” you call after him, balancing on your elbows as you sit up slowly. “Pretty sure these clothes can never be worn again. Purely for the fact that they reek of sex.”

“At least your wig stayed in place,” Eddie points out lightheartedly when he returns, his pants once again buckled, a towel in his hand. “That’s something the hair and makeup team should be proud of.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them,” you say, meaning it as a joke ‘cause there’s no way you would ever admit to what sins the two of you just committed.

Eddie smirks. “Pretty sure they already know,” he says as if it’s no big deal, “We weren’t exactly quiet, sweetheart.”

as always, thank you for reading! pls comment, reblog & support your creators.

celebrity skin. masterlist | the killers (1946) reference

& the celebrity skin. taglist: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie , @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills - (if your user is crossed out, it means the tag isn’t working. pls check you’ve enabled tagging in your settings)

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in Your Area

Chapter 2

It was a very weird ride. Danny felt like he was an authority on uncomfortable and strange conversations, given his bizarre family and all the experiences he'd had: but it was exquisitely uncomfortable sitting next to his bride sacrifice and making conversation.

The guy didn't offer his name. He was- honestly, he was built. Danny tried not to get caught visually measuring how absurdly broad the guy's shoulders were. He was weirdly offended that the cultists had sent him someone who was more ripped than he was.

"What's that?" The guy prompted. Jason. This guy's name was Jason. It was a little hard to keep in mind given he didn't really look like a Jason. He looked like… The Red Biker 👻😱🩸 or some shit.

Danny mentally rewound his own babbling and brightened when he realized that there was at least some interest in NASA's newest telescope. He infodumped on rote. It genuinely was an interesting topic! But he'd told 3 people about it already so it didn't take all of his attention.

At one point, Jason pinched his middle finger and used the grip to pull off his glove. Danny swallowed. He tried not to stare at the first glimpse of skin. It was not super light or super dark– a little tanner than Danny, maybe. Not that that said much when he was living like a cave creature in a dorm room, trying to get the grades to be an astronaut.

'He's human,' Danny thought. Of course he was, he'd been sent from earth, but-

He just felt like a ghost.

The confusion put his hackles up. It was weird to perceive this guy as a possible threat. But he wasn't! He was just some hot dummy who got caught by friggin Jeremy Waters. Jeremy. Come on. It didn't get much sadder than that.

But overall? He could see why the Infinite Realms had gotten mixed up enough to accept this guy. Red was definitely weird enough to be a ghost, dressed up for the combination war front/biker bar/club. He hadn't made a move to take off his ugly motorcycle helmet the whole time they'd been talking. It was kind of creepy, to be honest.

The most disturbing part was that he smelled, like, really good. He smelled like sexy death and Danny kinda wanted to roll around in it like the world's most educated cat.

It was with some relief that Danny bounded away from his semi husband, up the stairs to Clockwork. "You know who it is and why I'm here!" He hollered, hands making a megaphone shape around his mouth. "Help me! I'm too young to be a child bride."

"Technically," Clockwork said, floating pleasantly into view, "you are too old to be a child bride. As you are not a child, Danny."

He waved that off. "I'm a kid on the inside," he dismissed. "And 19 is basically a high schooler."

"As you say." Clockwork drifted away. Danny followed. "How is your university coursework?"

"It's fine." Danny shrugged. "The Gen Eds are giving me war flashbacks to Mr. Lancer, though."

"You liked him," Clockwork said.

Danny bristled. "I did not!"

He kinda had. Mr. Lancer could have been a lot worse.

That was beside the point. Danny caught up to his ghost mentor. "I can't be distracted from this," he said, aiming for stern. "There's some human out there who wants to go home. I also want him to go home. How do we make that happen ?"

"Why Danny, have you forgotten about portals?"

Danny scowled. "You know what I mean," he groused. "I want to send him home single. Unattached. Not married to me at all."

Clockwork finally stopped moving and looked directly at him. His large eyes held only a kind of curiosity. "I suppose that you could banish him. That would have the effect of ending your relationship."

Danny hesitated. He'd learned that accepting suggestions on their face could go very badly. "That seems kinda harsh," he said. "Would there be any repercussions of that?"

Clockwork hummed from the back of his throat. "Yes, it would prevent young Jason from becoming a ghost when he passes again. Excuse me, I want that shelf behind you."

Danny moved out of the way on reflex before he processed those words. "That sounds bad."

The older ghost seemed to shrug. "The Ghost king can banish ghosts, and your paramour is ghostly enough to qualify. It would solve your current dilemma."

He deliberately chose not to respond to the word 'paramour.'

"I'm actually looking for a solution that doesn't interfere with the state of his soul and afterlife," Danny said dryly. Then he blinked. "You're really gonna call him Jason?"

Clockwork reached up and withdrew a metal object from the shelf. It clicked in his hand. "Indeed."

Danny waited for another divorce suggestion. When Clockwork didn't give one, he groaned. "How do I find another solution?" He asked, tired. This was another test, wasn't it? It was a chance for him to problem solve on his own.

That netted him a beaming smile. "You should take him to the royal library."

"And look for information about ghost divorces?" Danny asked. Clockwork gave him an enigmatic smile.

He chose to believe that was a yes. Danny patted his mentor's shoulder. "Thanks!" He shouted, already turning on his heel. "I'll do that. Have a good day!"

"Goodbye, Danny."

Jason hadn't moved at all, sitting weirdly tense and tall in the passenger seat. Danny gave him a nervous smile as he jumped in.

"Did you find out anything?" Jason asked. His voice was even enough to obscure whatever it was he thought, and the helmet made the words come out kinda flat and mechanical.

Danny winced. "Yes and no," he said, trying to find cheerful. "The first solution seems kinda bad, to be honest, so let's go to the library and look for another one!"

"...Ghosts have public libraries?" Jason said.

"No," Danny said. And then he frowned. "Maybe? I don't know. I haven't seen one but I haven't been here long. We're going to Pariah's creepy old castle to look at his library." He started up the Specter Speeder and took off. "It's big. And he was a real creep, so he probably had, uh." He cleared his throat. "Paramours." His face was getting hot and red. Maybe it wasn't obvious. He tried to look unaffected. "Probably why that ritual was out there," he babbled. Wow, the minutes separating their destinations felt very long when he was digging a verbal hole. "He probably had a lot of sacrifices he accepted, maybe that's where the skeleton army came from actually."

"Skeleton army?" Jason managed to sound incredulous through the world's ugliest motorcycle helmet. "How do ghosts and skeletons both exist in proximity?" He cleared his throat. "I mean, if you don't need the physical body to exist, why would anyone retain their corpse?"

Danny laughed nervously. "Yeah, that's weird," he agreed.

'Don't ask me afterlife questions,' he mentally begged. 'I just work here. I don't know the answers.'

"Metaphysically-"

"Do you like sports?" Danny interrupted in a high voice.

Jason paused. "No. Do you?"

"...Not really," Danny admitted, thinking of getting ganged up on in dodgeball and knocked down in basketball.

They existed in what felt like a confused silence for a few minutes. Danny parked the Speeder outside of the castle and I clicked his seatbelt with a rush of relief. "We're here," he said. He threw open the top.

Jason didn't move from where he was flat against the backrest, only lifting his head. "... Should I come too?"

Danny blinked down at him and waved a hand in invitation. "Yeah, let's go. This is kinda my place now so I can invite you in."

Jason moved forward abruptly, like he'd just gotten unstuck from the seat. Something about it looked wrong to his hindbrain. But Danny dismissed it and started off at a jog. It wasn't his business if Jason was a weird little guy. (Weird big guy? It didn't sound the same, but Jason wasn't petite.)

Jason paused on the battlements. Danny looked back and tried to see it from his perspective. The architecture was jagged, pitch black, and without any of the friendly colorful touches a castle should have. "It's kind of creepy," he said apologetically. "Pariah has just the worst vibe. Rancid energy."

"...Is it smart to say that?" Jason wondered. He started walking again.

Danny shrugged. "What's he gonna do to me?" He asked rhetorically. "Get his butt kicked again?"

[skzdarlings]

part v: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 18k words)

warning for this chapter: the usual story dynamic plus explicit violence, threatening behaviour, mentions of homophobia, implied suicidal ideation, and explicit sexual content.

-

Jisung sighs with agonizing sorrow as he turns his baseball cap around.  He tugs the brim low then steeples his hands on the desk. 

“I see,” he says grimly.  “I understand.  You found paradise in Hyunjin.  You had a good friendship, it made a good romance.  So you didn’t need a friend like me.  Now you come to me and say, ‘Han Jisung, come bowling with me and my evil boyfriend.’  But you don’t ask with respect.  You come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married and you ask me to go bowling—”

“We’re in earth science right now,” Felix says, bemused. 

“He’s quoting a movie,” you say.

“Ah.”

“And for the last time, Hyunjin is not my boyfriend,” you say.  “We’re just… hanging out.” 

Your second ‘date’ with Hyunjin was once more a family affair as your father invited him and his parents to the mansion for lunch.  It was professionally catered because your father does nothing by halves, so at least the food was good.  You and Hyunjin were mostly silent in the company of your parents, but you were allowed to walk around the yard by yourselves after. 

He looked good because he always looks good, in a fuzzy purple sweater and name-brand jeans.   His charisma was dwindled to nothing, though.  He kept his fists curled up in the sleeves of his sweater and smiled a lot of forced smiles.  His parents’ presence clearly does a number on his mentality.  He did unwind somewhat when you were finally alone, but it was hard to shake the feeling of observation, their eyes stalking your every step like animals in a zoo. 

“Maybe we should just have sex on the ground here,” you said dryly.  “See if that satisfies them.”

He burst out laughing at that, an endearingly wheezy sound that made you giggle too.   

“Wow,” he said, shaking his head.  “When you make jokes like that I remember you and Han Jisung really are best friends.” 

“Guilty,” you said with a snort.  “Stupid jokes is what is friendship is all about.” 

He smiled at the subject of friendship.  His expression was full of so much warmth, very contrary to his polite but cold countenance during lunch when he only flirted appropriately. 

You like Hyunjin as a friend and you think he might feel the same way, hence the reservation on both your parts to truly commit to this farce of a relationship.  It feels wrong to use him to keep your father happy.  

You caught his eye this morning in the school corridor, sharing a smile as you crossed paths.  Even though a true relationship has not been defined, you told him you wanted to tell Jisung before you started hanging out at school. 

You made the mistake of saying this within earshot of Hyunjin’s parents.  His father unfortunately overheard you, enquiring as to the identity of this Jisung. 

“Just her little school friend,” your father said.  “Nobody important.” 

Jisung might be nobody important to your father but he is still your friend.   And unlike your father, who merits the value of life on business calculations, the first question Jisung asks is, “Does he make you happy?” 

Felix is scribbling in his notebook but lifts his head at that question.  You cannot look at him directly because you know it will shatter your very careful mask. 

“Hyunjin is actually really nice when you get to know him,” you say, because the best lie has a hint of truth in it.  “And I really do like spending time with him.  So… it would make me happy if you could be happy for me too.”   

Jisung scrutinizes you, then glances at Felix who has gone back to scribbling in his notebook.  Eventually Jisung smiles and spins his cap backwards. 

“If you’re happy, I’m happy,” Jisung says.  He turns very dark and serious when he says, “But that pretty rich boy is paying for my nachos.”

You catch up to Hyunjin in the hallway.  He laughs when you tell him Jisung’s stipulation. 

“I think I can afford it,” he jokes, then quirks an eyebrow.  “Jisung… He doesn’t know about your dad, does he?”   

“Only a bit,” you say, thinking back to the countless times you abstractly complained about your father to him.   “I mean, he knows he’s strict but he doesn’t know why.  I complain about some stuff but… I don’t really go into detail.”  Truth be told, you like that your friendship with Jisung is so far removed from your home life.  He has nothing to do with your father or your wealth or your abuse.  He likes you for you and that has always been the case. 

“What about Felix?”  Hyunjin asks.  He nods behind you because Felix is never too far away.  He is blending in as inconspicuously as he can, pretending to read notices on a bulletin board. 

“What about him?” you say, heat creeping up your neck.  You hope you appear casual.

“How close are you?”  Hyunjin asks, his casual tone coloured with a hint of suggestion, like he already knows the answer. 

You suppose anyone might assume Felix has a crush on you seeing as he is never far from your side.  There is little explanation that a civilian could glean other than Felix being clingy or lovesick.  No one would guess it is his job to trail after you. 

But the suggestion is difficult to rebuke because your true feelings get all twisted up inside you.  You and Felix do like each other – too much for your own goods.  Though there has not been a reprise of the other morning, in fact you have not mentioned it once, there is a new electricity in all of your touches.  That exchange did not satisfy or quell any desires, in fact it seemed to accomplish the opposite.  When you wake in the morning to him so close, your heart turns into a thunderstorm and it sends sparks flying through every inch of your body. 

You want him more than ever.  You also hope you never get him or you will never find the resolve to let go. 

“He’s just my—”  You cannot force the word friend.   “He’s just Felix,” you say.  “He drives me crazy, to be honest.”  That much is true.   

Hyunjin’s brow furrows.  He looks at Felix then turns your body so he is blocking you from sight.  He leans in close to speak. 

“He isn’t bothering you, is he?”  Hyunjin asks.  “Because if he is—”

A sharp laugh jumps out of you.  The offer of protection is unexpected and unintentionally amusing.  You have seen Felix in the midst of his training, his body a well-honed instrument that he knows and controls with utmost precision.  Hyunjin uses his body in a different way, playing to his strengths with his showmanship, but he would be no match in confrontation. 

Not that he knows it.  His offer is very sincere. 

You gaze at him, studying his kind but determined face.  You remember how Hyunjin was expelled from his old school for fighting with another boy, supposedly over a girl.  You read the report yourself and you recall how the other boy was badly pulverized.  It is hard to picture Hyunjin doing something like that, but you know how violence often lurks in unassuming places. 

“Thank you,” you say.  “But it’s fine.  Really.” 

You guide the conversation back to bowling and it distracts him well enough. 

At least you were allowed to plan this date.  Your father essentially ordered you to go on a solo date with Hyunjin, except you could not be truly alone because Felix had to be there.  When you questioned the logistics of that, your father said to work it out, that he would heed Felix’s discretion on the matter. 

Fortunately, even with things tense between you, Felix does take your opinion into consideration.  He agreed when you suggested a casual venue where you could hang out with Hyunjin and better acquaint him with your friends.  

You are still not sure how long this charade is meant to continue, but for now you try to enjoy having another friend. This turns into a daunting task.  Your social skills are lacklustre to say the least and attempting to befriend Hyunjin’s huge circle of friends proves perilously overwhelming.  Fortunately, Hyunjin doesn’t take offense when you bail early at lunch to sit with Jisung instead.  Hyunjin has a lot of friends but none with whom he is especially close. 

“Having a best friend isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” you joke, watching Jisung bowl by swinging the ball two-handedly between his legs.  You slouch in your seat as if embarrassed by him, shaking your head while Hyunjin laughs. 

“He’s funny,” Hyunjin says. 

“Then why do you antagonize him?” you ask, lightly but curiously.    

“Because it’s fun,” he says with a smirk, making you laugh and Felix chuckle.  “And easy.”

The three of you watch Jisung wail as his ball predictably rolls into the gutter. 

���Fair enough,” you say.  

You can tell Hyunjin has his guard up.  It does not make him unkind but he is less personable even while he is more charismatic.  You know that persona is in place to protect him, that Hyunjin wears happiness and charm the way you wear ire.  Although they are contrary dispositions, both keep people at bay. 

Jisung, being Jisung, manages to slip through the cracks of that guarded wall, much like he did you.  You got to know Jisung slowly then all at once, empty moments passing between you until one day you realized he had long passed the guarded gate. 

You are mulling this over when you spot him.   You are so surprised that you choke on your soda and sputter the liquid painfully out of your nose.  Your spontaneous violent hacking startles the boys, all of them jumping then fussing over you.  

You are still coughing when Lee Minho approaches.  

Hyunjin and Jisung do not see him at first, too pre-occupied with wiping your shirt and asking if you are okay.  It is Felix who spots Minho next, realization dawning on his face before his expression sours.  You have been seeking that reaction, looking for the vaguest hint of jealousy or at least acknowledgement.  Felix does not seem very intimidated by Hyunjin, even when he flirts with you or touches you.  He can probably tell your feelings are only friendly.  But you did like Lee Minho once and he knows that. 

Your heart skips beats when you and Felix look at each other.  He has not been holding your gaze lately, quick to look away when you catch him staring.  It sounds strange to say that you miss him when he is sleeping in your bed every night, but you ache with the loss of intimacy.  He is the first person you see in the morning and the last face you see at night, but he has never felt farther away.  Even your very first night together involved more genuine interaction. 

If he truly did not want you, it would be easier.  But when you do catch him staring, his eyes are intense, his gaze forever thoughtful.  When he is not minding his actions, he naturally leans towards you just as you do him, orbiting planets around the light of your stars.   

Jisung likes you as a friend, Hyunjin likes you as an ally, but Felix knows every part of you, the good and the bad, the normal and the crazy.   When he touches you, he touches all of you, and you feel like a whole person, full of more life and possibility than you ever thought you could be.  You told yourself not to rely on his touches and maybe you should have listened, maybe this withdrawal would not ache so terribly now, but you cannot bring yourself to fully regret it. 

What you want is to reach across this table and hold his face, to bring it close to yours.  Even if you don’t kiss, it would be enough to have him close, his breath on your lips and his freckled cheeks warm under your palms. 

You will take what you can get, basking in the devoted attention of his gaze as your former crush approaches the table. 

Minho comes up behind Hyunjin and smacks a hand onto his shoulder, startling him. 

“I could hear you from the parking lot, Hwang Hyunjin,” Minho teases.  “How many degrees was it again?” 

When the rival popular boys were both at school, their interactions were minimal despite their reputations.  Their few encounters were only jokingly hostile, one running gag revolving around Minho cooking Hyunjin in an air-fryer. 

“One-hundred-eighty degrees,” Hyunjin completes the joke.  He laughs with everyone else but he is blushing scarlet from the tips of his ears all down his neck. 

It is strange.  Hyunjin is a physical person, at least when performing.  This is the same guy who made out with his girlfriend in a classroom.  The same guy who got detention on his first day for skipping class to fool around with some girl.  And yet his shoulder dips as if Minho’s hand is too heavy to bear, as if he is overwhelmed by the touch. 

Hyunjin once remarked on your powers of observation.  It is especially easy to read someone when their behaviour is similar to your own.  Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.  The stilted proximity, the way they naturally lean towards each other, so heavily affected by the simplest touch on the shoulder. 

How they absolutely cannot bring themselves to meet eyes.  

Minho talks to your table, friendly enough, but it is obvious he has no idea who the rest of you are.  He only knows Hyunjin, and he addresses Hyunjin directly, but he does not look at Hyunjin for more than a few seconds, and they do not look at each other at the same time. 

Eventually, Minho squeezes the back of Hyunjin’s neck and Hyunjin curls up his fingers.  Minho smiles and says his goodbyes, casual, friendly, sparing one final glance at Hyunjin that Hyunjin does not return.   Hyunjin reaches for his glass and takes a drink while Minho leaves to join his own friends across the room. 

You wonder if Felix registered any of it, but he is still frowning at Minho’s retreating back.  You suppose he was watching you more than Hyunjin.  Jisung is taking a picture of his abysmal bowling score. 

You look at Hyunjin but he is smiling again.  He offers to pay for dinner, swiftly diverting the conversation in that direction.  Jisung goes with him to counter to order, leaving you and Felix alone. 

Felix has gone back to feigned indifference, sipping from his soda as he stares at nothing particular. 

“I need to be alone with Hyunjin for a bit,” you say.  That quickly snaps his attention to you.  “I just want to talk to him.” 

“Talk,” Felix says, lifting an eyebrow.  “Uhh, about what?”

“If it was your business, I wouldn’t need to be alone with him,” you say curtly.  You are being intentionally antagonistic with that one, but you get a little thrill when it succeeds in piquing his interest.  You suppose you have always resorted to bad behaviour for attention.  Encouraged by the heat darkening his gaze, you flutter your eyelashes and drawl, “My daddy would get mad if you got in the way of us, you know.” 

He laughs with disbelief.  Stubborn as ever, he looks away, popping an elbow on the table and digging his fist into his temple.   

“What?” you say with exaggerated innocence.  “Wouldn’t he, Felix?  Doesn’t he think I’m a bad girl who needs a good boy to fix her?” 

He looks at you, just a sideways glance out of the corner of his eye, but it gets you so hot that you momentarily forget your whole endeavour.  

He drops his arm with a thump, smiling at you with all that performative saccharine sweetness.  It is the smile he projects when he is convincing the world he is just sweet, innocent Lee Felix.  Beanie, flannel, ripped jeans, just another guy, cute and unassuming.

He stands and swiftly turns on the heel of his foot, slapping a hand down on the back of your seat so you instinctively lean back.  He follows you down, in your face when he speaks in that low, honeyed voice, “Hyunjin doesn’t have what it takes for that, sweetheart.”   

Then he is back in his seat, arms crossed and back to ignoring you. 

“I hate you,” is what naturally falls from your lips, no other word sufficing to summarize the sheer inundation of feelings.

The corner of his lips quirk up in a little grin.

He is the present bane of your existence, but Felix does oblige your request.  At the end of the evening, he purposefully leads Jisung away with some empty distraction, holding conversation while watching you over his shoulder.   He does not go far, but far enough to be out of ear-shot. 

Hyunjin is bent down, changing his shoes, and it takes you a minute to muster the nerve to speak. 

“Hyunjin,” you finally say, your voice coming out weaker than you intended. 

Your tone is usually sharp so the unexpected softness has him tensing before he even lifts his head.  When he does, it is with a dimpled smile, handsome and so polite. 

You scrub a hand over your face, shaking your head, trying to think of something to say.   You do not want to put him in an awkward spot, but you definitely do not want him walking into a worse situation because of ignorance. 

“You… you weren’t expelled for fighting… were you?” you finally ask.  “And you and Minho weren’t enemies.”  

His expression caves, a sharp breath parting his lips.  He stares at you for a long moment, flickering between a fake laugh, anger, fear, and finally resignation. 

“How did you…” he starts, then laughs without any humour, dry and airy as he pushes his hair back.  “You really are good at seeing people, huh.” 

“I stand by what I told you at that party,” you say.  “That I’m sorry you feel like you have to hide the best parts of yourself.  But as your friend, I need you to understand… my father is a very, very dangerous man.  He uses people.  All the things that make you who you are… he will just categorize them statistically and work out how to use those things against you to benefit him.” 

He covers his mouth and stares at the ground, looking contemplative.  After some time, he drops his hand, and speaks in an unsteady voice that makes him seem very young.  “I can handle it,” he says.  “My father…”  Another dry laugh.  “I had a… friend… at my whole school.  My father found us together.  He tried to get him leave me alone but… stupid kid… he didn’t listen.  So my dad hired this thug, I mean, I didn’t even know you could do that… He shook him up and we paid off the family and then he moved me here and he said… he said…”  His voice trails off and you don’t think he will find it again. 

“Image,” you say.  “Expectation.  Whatever.” 

He huffs a breath, rolls his eyes, laughs again. 

“Yes,” he says.  “I thought it would be easy.  He wasn’t asking me to change, just pretend.  I said… well, that’s not that bad, it could be worse.  It’s worse for other people.  I can pretend.  But it’s not easy and…”  He sucks in an unsteady breath, his face crinkling with emotion.  His voice is strained when he continues, “I don’t like lying, and just because I don’t like girls it doesn’t mean I like using them.  You were the final straw, I just…”  He rubs his temples and shakes his head.  “I just need to get through this year.  I can move out after school but… my dad won’t give me access to my savings until the end of the year and only if I can show him I’m… ‘better’.  So I… I need to get through this year.” 

“Hyunjin, I want to help you,” you say, “but you need to know what you’re getting into with me.  My father is more dangerous than just hiring a thug.  He is the thug, his whole operation is thugs.  He snaps his fingers and half the city is rearranging itself for him.” 

“You talk back to him a lot,” Hyunjin argues, a fact you cannot refute.  Though you are marginally better behaved in company, you are never truly docile. 

“Yeah,” you say with a helpless laugh, “but trust me, I’m messed up.”

“So am I,” he says.  “We can help each other.  Keep our dads off our backs for now then figure it all out.” 

Silence falls as you consider each other’s words.  You feel like no matter what choice you make, it will be the wrong one. 

“He works two jobs,” Hyunjin suddenly says, staring over your shoulder.  You don’t have to turn to know it is Minho, on the other side of the room, laughing with his friends.  “One is at a coffee shop.  On the weekends he teaches dance classes to kids.  His family isn’t well off but he is so casual about it that no one cares.  Things everyone else gets ashamed or embarrassed about just doesn’t seem to bother him.  I thought I hated him at first, because it all seemed so easy for him, and I was jealous because I thought I should be the lucky one.  Then one morning after a party I was hungover and bitching at him, and he just said tsk…”  Fondness creeps into his expression now, smoothing out the sadness that was there before.  “Then he made me some coffee and kissed me when I wasn’t expecting it.  I started working myself up about it and he called me idiot and did it again.”  He looks at you.  His voice is steady now.  “My dad would never make coffee for someone.  He doesn’t even know how.  He pays someone to do all that meaningless stuff for him.  Meaningless.  That’s all his life is.  He think it’s so important but it’s not.  But I know better.” 

He sits straighter and says with complete confidence, “My life will not be meaningless.  I just need to get through this year.” 

You know it is not so simple as that.  You do not see a light at the end of the tunnel the way he seems to do.  But he speaks with so much heartfelt conviction that you really do feel it for a moment. 

In the end, it is impossible not to take his hand. 

-

Felix is quiet on the car ride home.  You know despite the pretence, he is curious about you and Hyunjin.  His regard was a scrutinizing one, watching you hold hands until you said goodbye in the parking lot. 

But Felix is acting his role, an indifferent and professional bodyguard.  You take turns glancing at each other, occasionally catching eyes but looking away soon after. 

The house will be empty for the next couple weeks as your father is on a business trip overseas.  You strut confidently into the house with Felix on your heels.  You busy yourself with scrolling on your phone, pretending you do not hear his agitated sighs.  You plop yourself down on the couch and cross your legs.   

Felix stands in front of you, arms crossed.  You smile an excessively syrupy smile and bat your eyelashes.

“Yes?” you say.  “Can I help you?”   

“What are you doing with Hyunjin?” he asks. 

“You know what I’m doing with Hyunjin,” you say dryly, looking at your phone again.  “Just what my daddy said.”

“Okay but uhhh, you don’t like Hyunjin,” he says.  “And you definitely don’t like obeying ‘daddy’.”  He pitches up the word in a nasally whine to mock you, smiling when you glare. 

“Maybe I changed my mind,” you say.  Then you shrug like the whole thing is beneath you, like you could not care less about his reaction even while it is all you care about. 

You stand and knock shoulders when you brush past.  You make it a scarce foot before he grasps the back of your neck and guides you back to him, gentle and slow but ungiving in its demand.  Even when he lets go, you feel tingles where his fingertips so lightly pressed. 

You are standing close, almost cheek to cheek.  You can count each familiar freckle. 

“Are you free right now?” he asks, dropping his voice in such a suggestive way that you immediately feel flushed.  You nod without thinking too hard.  When you do, his face lights up with enthusiasm and he smiles, eyes oh-so adorably crinkled with mirth.  “Great!” he says.  “Put on exercise clothes and meet me in the gym for training.” 

He leaves the room in a brisk jog, waving over his shoulder.  You stand there for another moment, staring at the empty doorway and computing the whiplash of that whole ridiculous exchange.  

Never have you come so close to actually hating that abominable nightmare boy. 

You have clearly worked Felix into a mood, so you decide to be marginally complacent and do what he asks lest he hunt you down and force you to do push-ups in the bedroom.  We can work-out in the bedroom all right, you imagine yourself saying with a wink, knowing very well there is not a chance you would ever actually be able to say that.  Agitating him with a healthy dose of implication is different than outright stating it.  Though the look on his face would be funny. 

When you reach the gym, he is in sweatpants and a t-shirt just like you.  He is stretching in front of the mirror wall.  He smiles that sardonic smile through the reflection, beckoning you to join him.  You make sure to stomp as petulantly as possible, crossing your arms like a stubborn child when you reach the mirror. 

“You need to warm-up first,” he says.  “Do you know how to stretch?”

“Yes, I know how to stretch,” you say venomously, a useless lie since he has witnessed your pitiful demonstrations of athleticism in gym class.  He doesn’t comment, though, just lifts his eyebrows and says, “okaaaay,” before moving on. 

You copy a few of his stretches, though he makes his movements look easier than they are.  Then he makes you run a few laps around the room, simply smiling when you scowl at him.  You are pretty sure that part was just a petty punishment. 

Finally he sets up some mats and starts explaining basic tactical defense positions.  He clearly knows what he is talking about and the familiarity of the subject seems to ground him in his body.  It draws you into a similar state of relaxation and soon you find yourself actually listening to his instructions.  

You mirror a few of his positions, focussing on holding yourself steady, on finding your centre of gravity.   

“You won’t beat most people with brute strength,” Felix says.  “I mean, uhhh, ha-ha, I’m not exactly the biggest guy in the world, myself, you know?  It isn’t about that, though.  Look, feel your core strength…” 

You lose yourself in your concentration, watching your own motions in the mirror as he steps around you.  Your attention only fractures when he lays a hand on your shoulder.  He is just fixing your posture but your body does not seem to care that the action is casual.   You curse your own sensitivity and tell yourself to get over it, especially when he starts demonstrating more bodily manoeuvres, requiring you to put your hands on his arms or hands or shoulders. 

He acts unbothered the whole time, making you feel even more ridiculous.  Then he explains something while wrapping an arm around your neck from behind.  You step closer instinctively and your eyes widen when your backside collides with his front and you realize he is not as indifferent as he is acting.  It is only the vaguest stirring of interest, but his sweatpants do little for modesty. 

He nudges you away and clears his throat, continuing his lesson but with a little stutter.  You feel flustered and embarrassed too, somehow simultaneously craving this sort of evidence and also balking at it.  You actually masturbated in front of each other but for some reason it is more embarrassing when he catches you looking at the subtle imprint in his sweats.   He clears his throat again but continues the lesson like nothing happened.   When he steps up behind you again, you are both careful to keep your distance, his arm only hovering around you. 

“So the best thing in a situation like this—” he starts. 

“I know what to do,” you say, the tension so unbearable that if you do not shatter it, it will break you instead.  You abruptly swing your arm back, elbowing him in the gut.  You catch him by surprise and he stumbles back with an oof, holding his stomach and glaring with playful intensity. 

“Very funny,” he says and steps closer again. 

“This works too,” you say, giggling then stomping on his foot.  It isn’t very hard but it is unexpected so he curses, taking a playful swipe at you when you skip away. 

“Mature,” he says sarcastically, but with a genuine smile.  You stick your tongue out at him and he reaches again, laughing when you dance out of arm’s reach. 

He chases after you and you yelp when he catches up, his retaliation a truly heinous, punitive tickle attack.  You squeal and laugh in his arms, squirming to get away and apologizing through your shrieks.  He just laughs, continuing his evil barrage of tickles.   You get tangled together in your flailing, stumbling around and eventually landing in a giggling heap in front of the mirror. 

Finally he stops, just as winded from laughter.  You are sitting between his legs, slouched against his chest, facing the mirror as you pant and wind down from your giggles. 

You look at each other through the reflection, the longest you have held each other’s gaze in a while.  It feels different, less direct, but also more complete.  You see yourself as well as him, sitting in a fairly intimate position and looking for all the world like a normal young couple, glowing with carefree happiness. 

You take a few steadying breaths.  He does as well.  The rush of your game settles.  In the absence of laughter, the room is quiet.  The whole house is quiet, a big empty space with the two of you alone in one small room, securely tucked away in your privacy, looking at each other through a mirror. 

He swallows. 

Your heart is racing and not from any playful exertion.  He has a hand on your elbow and the other on your knee, but he is holding very still, as if a move in any direction will be catastrophic.  He is probably right to think that. 

You touch his hand anyway, holding his gaze in the mirror while you slide his hand from your knee to your thigh.  His brow pinches, expression contorted as if in pain, though the hardening press of him against your backside tells you it is not pain. 

He says your name.  Then he sighs, closes his eyes, and rests his temple against your head. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, drawing out all the softness of heart in his low drawl.  You whimper, from that or his touch, his hand high on your thigh.  Even through your clothes, his touch burns, waking nerves where it roams. 

“Please,” you say, watching his face through his mirror.  Finally he meets your gaze there, dark eyes on your face as he lets you guide his hand between your legs.   

One deft stroke through your clothes has you making a sound like a sob.  It pulls him over the brink of his hesitation, leaving it all behind as he cups you with a possessive sort of determination.  His touch is clumsy and desperate but you don’t care, because it’s him. 

It all seems to happen so fast and not fast enough, two pairs of nervous hands pushing and pulling.  He tugs your knee over his, spreading your legs wide, and slides his hand into your sweats while you buck back against him.  Your eagerness overwhelms you so he shushes gently in your ear, his free hand splayed across your collarbone.  His forehead is pressed into the side of your head and he looks at you sideways through the mirror.  You nod, holding his gaze as he touches you properly. 

It is a fumbling, hungry touch, the hunger of someone who thinks he might never eat again after all this plenty.   He might be right.  He might be wrong.  It doesn’t matter right now.  You give yourselves over to the experience, as raw and inelegant as all that earnest passion is. 

Your breathing is loud enough to fill the whole room, the whole house, broken sighs and guttural moans louder than the yelling that usually fills this place.  His touch is only surface, not daring to go so far as putting his fingers inside you, even while rubbing his fingers through all that wet desire.  Your knee is hooked over his, keeping you helplessly open under his touch when you come.  He looks at you with an incredulous sort of amazement, then his eyes close and his low moan turns to a broken whimper as tumbles over the edge too. 

You are both breathing hard in the aftermath, eyes closed, heads touching.  You slowly bring your leg back and he slowly withdraws his hand.  You look into the mirror when you take his hand, when you put it back between your legs over your clothes and hold it there.  He says your name and curses. 

It is the last thing he says for a while.  You are both quiet.  It is only later that night when the silence breaks, when he gets into bed after checking the security system.  You look at each other across the space of that bed and mutely come to an accord, his arm outstretched in offering as you move into his embrace.  He holds you against his chest, his heart beating under your ear. 

“Do you hate me,” he asks, like he already knows the answer. 

You sniffle.  You nod. 

“Okay,” he says, and strokes your back until you fall asleep.

-

Your final year of school passes in a blur of afternoons with Jisung, fake dates with Hyunjin, and long, unsatisfied nights where you and Felix hold each other with the knowledge of everything between you – and do nothing about it.  He keeps his head down, trains, and dutifully reports to your father.  At least your father is more agreeable these days because of your supposed relationship with Hyunjin.  He thinks it is changing you for the better when really you are just being careful for Hyunjin’s sake. 

The end of the year rolls around and soon you are down to the last few days of classes.  You and Hyunjin are due for a conversation about what happens next.   You whisper this to him in class, sitting close as you are sharing a lab desk for two.  He is bent down scribbling in your yearbook, his pen scratching when he freezes.   He looks up at you and nods.

“Yo, are you lovebirds done?” Jisung asks, spinning around from the desk he is sharing with Felix.  He points a ruler at Hyunjin.  “You better have left the last page blank like I said, man.  I have things to say to my girl.”   

“I did, I did,” Hyunjin says with playful exasperation, handing Jisung your yearbook so he can sign it too.  Jisung takes it with a snap, clapping the ruler on the desk before turning back to his own seat to write his message.  You and Hyunjin look at each other, helpless but to laugh at his shenanigans.   

You catch Felix’s eye.  He knows your relationship is fake, though he doesn’t know why.  He probably figures you are just trying to keep your father off your case.  Even if you trust Felix, it is not your place to tell Hyunjin’s story, guarding it so long as he asks. 

It does mean Felix looks at you with the occasional battered-puppy eyes. 

“Come on, Felix,” Hyunjin says with his big, dimpled smile, “let me write in yours too.” 

The yearbooks were handed out this morning so everyone is running around getting their friends to sign farewell messages.  You have already signed more yearbooks than you ever imagined you would, Hyunjin’s friends considering you an acquaintance if nothing else.  Signing for them was easy at least, lots of have a great summer and good luck with your future.  

It is much harder coming up with something for genuine friends.  While Hyunjin writes in Felix’s yearbook, you stare down at Hyunjin’s, trying to think of what to say to your fake boyfriend and real friend. 

I hope you get everything you want and more, you finally write.   I’m glad I got to know you.  LUV U BOYFRIEND!!!!

He laughs at the last part when you show him.   “I wrote the same thing in yours, loving girlfriend,” he says. 

You laugh too.  You crumple up some paper to chuck at Jisung who is still scribbling in your yearbook. 

“What, are you writing a novel?” you ask.  “Hurry up!” 

“Patience!” Jisung says.  “You can’t rush a masterpiece!” 

You, Hyunjin, and Felix all laugh.  Once more, you and Felix look at each other a little longer.  You did not bother to write in his yearbook as no words could suffice to summarize anything. 

He jokingly wrote Have a Great Summer : ) in yours. 

Jisung finally finishes his apparent epic, smacking your yearbook onto your desk.  You reach for it but he holds it shut, giving you a very serious look. 

“You can’t read my message now, okay?” he says.  “Read it at home.  Alone.  With violins in the background.”

You snort and roll your eyes but smile fondly at him. 

“Okay, Jisung,” you say, “I promise to cherish it and read your masterpiece properly.”          

“That’s all I ask,” Jisung says with a salute. 

After school, Felix waits while you and Hyunjin have a quick word. 

“Can you come to my house?”  Hyunjin asks.  “I want to talk properly.  Not here.”

You know your father will agree but you need his permission as you cannot visit without an escort.  Hyunjin knows you always have a bodyguard not too far from sight; he just does not know that Felix is one of them.   Your father sends his own men on your excursions together. 

Felix is never too happy when separated.  He is cordial enough with your father’s security team but it is obvious that Felix thinks he is more skilled than them, often commenting on their weaknesses or blunders.  You do not see things with his professional precision but you take his word for it.  It is easy to believe Felix is the best.  After all, it takes a whole team of people to replace him. 

As predicted, your father agrees to let you visit Hyunjin for the evening.  The Hwang mansion is nowhere near as big an estate nor are their security measures even close to your impenetrable, bulletproof, gilded prison, but it is still a secure location where you can be supervised.  You go with a few of your father’s men, sharing a dry look with Hyunjin when you arrive at his house.  He just smiles, used to it. 

You have dinner with his him and his parents, smiling all the while, playing the part you have played all year.  Your father’s men surround the house and you pass them in the backyard, making your way to Hyunjin’s old tree-house for some privacy.  It leaves you within sight of your father’s men but well out of ear-shot.   

You plop down on the little wooden balcony, sighing as you stare into the distance.  The sun is setting over the neighbourhood, an orange sky dappled with rosy pinks, sparkling as it catches glass panes and ostentatious embellishments.  The creaky old tree-house has a cozier feel, a world separated from the nonsense below.   

“Thank you,” Hyunjin says after a moment of shared silence, just watching the sunset.  You look at each other and he smiles.  “Having a real friend who knows me made a difference this year.” 

The forthright sincerity is a bit much for you, seeing as you are not so good at communicating so plainly.  You think you are improving, though.  The old you would have drawn back, but you are able to smile at Hyunjin in return. 

“I hope it helped,” you say. 

“It did.”  He moves a little closer just to be safe.  “My father gave me control of my savings.  My grandmother left me an inheritance and I needed the money.”  His smile brightens his whole face in the rosy light.  “I bought a house.”

“A house?” your voice breaks as you try contain your surprise in a whisper.

He laughs at your reaction, still smiling. 

“Yes,” he says.  “Well, it’s more like a cabin.  It’s not much to look at.  I needed it to be off the record, all in cash, and far away from here.”   

You find the image of a small, homey cabin to be devastatingly beautiful.  It could be the most dilapidated, ramshackle mess of a construction and you would still consider it perfect.  You imagine sitting on a tiny porch with Felix, him smiling a big smile that crinkles his eyes and shows his teeth, his face sunny and golden and truly carefree, not just pretending. 

You look at Hyunjin and see him staring into space with the same smile.  You picture him with all the tension gone from his shoulders, laughing his wheezy laugh instead of forcing polite smiles.  You swallow a lump in your throat. 

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you say, holding his hand.  “That’s really wonderful.” 

It brings him back to you.  Some of the dreaminess leaves his expression but he is definitely still happy.  He squeezes your hand back. 

“I can’t go yet,” he says.  “My parents would just… They’d find me.  I’m their only son.  It would be an embarrassment to them if I just left.  When I think about what my father did to my friend just to teach me a small lesson…”  You squeeze his hand in sympathy.  You both know his parents did not have that boy beaten to keep him away, but to teach Hyunjin a lesson.

Hyunjin takes a deep breath and says, “They won’t let me walk away easily.  I have to do it right if I’m gonna be free.”

“How are you going to do that?” you ask, curious for his sake and even your own.  The image of a far away cabin, untouched by trouble, is quickly nestling itself in some hidden cockle of your heart.  You know that it will be difficult for him to leave but it would be next to impossible for you, so there is no sense in dreaming.

And yet…  If Hyunjin can find a way, it makes you think that maybe certain dreams are not so impossible. 

But he just sighs and looks away. 

“I don’t know yet,” he says.  “But I’m going to find a way.”  He lets go of your hand to reach into his pocket, pulling out a small slip of paper.  He passes it to you and you unfold it.  You brow furrows as you read.    

“Is this—”

“The city and address to the cabin,” he says. 

“Why are you giving this to me?” you ask in a small voice.  Not for the first time, you curse your inconstant feelings, the quick rise to emotional heights in the matter of seconds. 

This is Hyunjin’s future written in a single line on a single piece of paper, such a seemingly simple thing and yet it has the power to completely destroy him.  This is his means of his escape, his only avenue of liberty, and he is showing you despite your proximity to some truly wretched forces.   He trusts you more than he fears them. 

“It’s an easy address to remember,” he says.  “I know things are hard for you.  I don’t know what will happen to you.  I don’t even know what will happen to me.  But I know it’s harder when you’re alone.  I know having people make a difference because they made a difference for me.  If you ever get out, if you ever need somewhere to start…” 

You cannot think of what to say.  No words seem sufficient in reply.  You can only nod and take a deep breath.  You look up into the fading light and blink away your tears. 

“Thank you,” you say.  “I hope if we meet again, things will be different.” 

The address has a sweet rhyming lilt to it, easy to remember like he said.  You read it over a few times, commit it to memory, then tear up the slip of paper beyond any salvaging. 

You sit in the tree-house until the sun fully sets.  Little lanterns flicker to life one-by-one in the darkening yard below.  When the sky is a blue wash and the path below is twinkling gold, you sigh. 

“I don’t want to go back,” you say miserably.  You don’t want to see your father or that house.  Even Felix will stir nothing but anguish right now, as you think about how you are trapped and he is shackled to you.  You also don’t really want to linger here.  Your uncontrollable emotional pendulum has swung back from its precipice.  A few minutes ago, you were close to crying, and now you feel so empty and resigned that you think you will never cry again.   I’m so broken, you think helplessly.  You want someone to tell you otherwise but you don’t know how to ask. 

Hyunjin leans back, peering into the yard.  Your father’s men are getting a little complacent in their boredom, one of them yawning where he is slouched in a deck chair.   They are not really paying attention to you.  They figure there is no where for you to go, the main steps from the tree-house leading right into their path. 

Hyunjin puts a finger to his lips.  You follow him quietly across the tree-house, obscured in enough darkness that none of the security team notices.  He leads you to a dangling rope ladder, hidden on the opposite side of the tree.  He points across the yard to a little garden around a koi pond. 

“There’s a gate just past the pond,” he whispers.  “There’s a path that leads through the neighbourhood.  I’ll stay up here until they say something, then I’ll tell them you went home.”  He smiles and puts a hand on your shoulder.  “You probably should go home,” he says, “but at least this way you’ll have a bit of time alone first.” 

You smile back at him, patting the hand on your shoulder. 

“Thank you, Hyunjin,” you say. 

“See you around,” he says, then pushes back his hair and smoulders at you.  “And don’t take the break-up too hard. I know I’m handsome but there will be other men.”     

You laugh and roll your eyes, pushing his shoulder. 

“Oh, please, I broke up with you,” you say.  “I couldn’t keep up with your vigorous beauty routine.” 

“This face is natural,” he says, laughing too.  Then he nudges you and looks more serious.  “Go now.  They’re not paying attention.” 

You briefly weigh your odds.  You have not snuck out in a very long time so the punishment might be proportionate to your otherwise good behaviour.  Felix is not here so he will not be blamed for your escape.  And you will not be avoiding a reprimand no matter what you do, because your father is going to be angry that you and Hyunjin broke-up – especially without consulting him first.  If you are going to be punished anyway, you might as well take a walk and clear your head first. 

You grab Hyunjin’s hand one last time, giving it a squeeze as you smile.  Then you climb down the rope ladder and hurry across the garden.  You are out the gate and on the path before you know it. 

The wealthy neighbourhood is quiet and brightly lit, every yard illuminated despite the quietude of the street.  They are all so pristinely manicured, different yet identical magazine-ready mansions.  They look a bit eerie with the darkness around them, like some alien recreation of what a home should look like.  It makes you dread the return to your own house.  You wonder how much time you have to yourself, if the car is going to pull up alongside you any second now to drag you home. 

It is then you remember you do have one more place you can go.  Ridiculously, stupidly, your emotions come back in full swing and you feel like crying again.  Maybe it is because you have not snuck out in so long, so it is reminding you of the very first time you ever did.  You went to the very place you are going now: Jisung’s house.

You always met there before darting off to a party together.  Those parties never amounted to much.  You and Jisung always talked a big game then spent most of the time in a corner or on a roof, but it was the only time you were ever away from the prying eyes of your father’s overprotective security.   You passed many nights that way, complaining to your best friend, talking about nothing, then rushing home before your absence was noticed.   

You remember the route to his side of town, catching a bus and getting off at a familiar stop.  This neighbourhood looks very different than Hyunjin’s, a range of houses both new and old, rundown and fixed-up.  They don’t waste energy lighting their yards unless they have guests.  All the light is from the streetlamps and the little yellow squares of homey light beaming through their windows. 

You have never actually been inside Jisung’s house.  You would usually just meet him in the yard before continuing on.  This is the first time you walk up the porch steps and ring the doorbell. 

You start to shiver.  The adrenaline or your escape kept you warm but now you can feel the chill of the evening. 

You are looking around the block and shivering when the door opens.  You turn and see an older woman with a scowl on her face.  Even if you did not know Jisung lived with his single mother, you would recognize her because of her round cheeks and big eyes, much like him.  Except where his face is usually open and friendly, she looks at you like a bug she wants to squish. 

“What?” she asks. 

“Um, sorry to bother you,” you say, somehow more intimidated by her than your father’s burly security team.  “I’m friends with Jisung.  I was just wondering if he’s home…?” 

She takes a step back and screams his name into the house.  You stand awkwardly in the doorway, waiting while thumps and bangs come from the upper level, then Jisung is hurrying down the stairs and skittering into view.  You so seldom see him without a hat that it is momentarily jarring, his flop of dark hair going everywhere as he comes to a wide-eyed stop. 

He gets over his surprise and smiles wide, saying your name with an upward what-the-fuck inflection. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, stepping aside to let his mother pass.  She says nothing more to you, disappearing into a side room. 

“I, um, I don’t know,” you say, your emotions in turmoil again.  You think about what Hyunjin said, about how having a friend made all the difference for him, and you suddenly realize how much you missed spending time with Jisung, how he was your first and only escape for so long.  Tears are falling before you can stop them, a mess of everything with Hyunjin and Felix and your father, but you can only stammer a vague excuse, that you broke up with Hyunjin and wanted to talk to someone. 

Jisung’s face is twisted up with surprise and sympathy.  He says your name a few times and apologizes, guiding you into the house.   

“Come on, let’s go upstairs,” he says, taking your hand and leading you up to his bedroom. 

“Won’t your mom mind?” For some reason, despite the mania of emotion inside you, that is what you fixate on. 

Jisung just laughs dryly, shaking his head as he closes the bedroom door behind you.  “Trust me,” he says. “She won’t care.  Sit down.” 

Jisung’s bedroom is undeniably him, music posters overlapping on the wall, stacks of journals on his desk and bedside table.  It is a sprawling canvas of music and writing, not to mention litters of clothes and baseball caps.  He pushes a pile of clothes off his bed so you can both sit, shoulder-to-shoulder.  His bed is against the wall, under the window, cool stars twinkling down at you while his bedside lamp fills the room with warmth. 

Your sobbing has slowed to a heaving stutter.  Jisung hands you some tissues to wipe your eyes. 

“I’m gonna kill that evil pretty boy,” Jisung says.

You hiccup and shake your head.  “It was me,” you say.  “Hyunjin is my friend, he’s a good guy, I just—” You start crying all over again, tearing the soggy tissues to shreds.  Jisung leans over to fetch some more, his face scrunched up with concern while he watches you dab your sore eyes.  “I’m just so messed up, Jisung,” you say.  “You have no idea how much.  I don’t even think I could properly love someone if I tried.  I just make a mess wherever I go.”

“What! Yo!  No.  Why are you saying these things?”  He looks equal parts bewildered and horrified, quickly wrapping an arm around you.  You let your head fall on his shoulder, still wiping your eyes while he rubs your arm.  “You are not messed up.  You’re my best friend and you’re awesome.  How could you have a best friend if you can’t properly love someone, huh?” 

“I’m a bad friend though,” you say.  “I bail on you all the time and I’m crazy and emotional and—”

“And you have an evil dad who locks you in the house, remember?”  Jisung says.  “Look, I know it’s not my business, I’d never make you say it, but from what you’ve told me… Dude, that guy fucking sucks.” 

You cannot help but laugh at that.  Jisung smiles, tweaking your nose. 

“I’ve never been mad about that stuff,” he says gently.  “Not at you.  At your dick dad, sure.  But that has nothing to do with you.” 

“I’m emotional like him,” you say, tears slowing to a lip wobble.  “I fight him all the time but maybe that just proves it. All that anger inside me.” 

“Anger isn’t bad,” Jisung says.  “It’s a feeling just like anything else.  Some people do bad shit while smiling the whole time.  Remember that guy who bullied Felix that time at school, and how you hit him with that book?  Or other times you just snapped back at some stupid dick?  That wasn’t bad!”

You don’t have an argument in you.  You just exhale, dabbing under your eyes with the crumpled tissue.  Jisung continues to rub your arm.

Your eyes drift and land on one of his baseball caps.  It is perched on a stack of schoolbooks.  You think back through the years, all those school days, all those stolen parties and late nights.  It was a slow beginning, then one day you realized he was your friend, your first ever friend, that he was making you laugh and you had inside jokes and you wanted to spend more time with him.  You weren’t afraid to be around him and you knew he wouldn’t make fun of you or push you or judge you. 

You feel his arm around your shoulder now and realize you are not afraid of it.  You can no longer remember the first time you hugged Jisung, probably because it wasn’t a kiss or anything romantic and so you did not really register it.  It was a moment that arrived silently, without any heart palpitations or fanfare, no sweaty palms or hot cheeks.  He would have just put his arm around you like he is doing now, asking for nothing in return for it. 

You realize he must have been the first person to hug you.   Your mother passed away when you were in infancy and the only family you ever knew was your father and his now-late father.  They did not hug each other and they did not hug you.   The only kind of love you knew was a violent, controlling one, and it made you into a distrustful, feral little child in return. 

You have reflected before how it took a long time to warm to Felix.  Bit by bit.  Touch by touch.   It would have taken longer if you had never known Jisung.  He drew you out of your shell before anyone else did. You were able to reach for Felix because Jisung reached for you.  You were able to befriend Hyunjin because Jisung befriended you. 

You find yourself choking back a different sob, one conjured by the realization of just how much Jisung has done by being there.  You understand what Hyunjin meant, about a friend making all the difference. 

Before you can say anything, Jisung gently asks, “It’s bad, isn’t it?” 

You sit straight to look at him, brow furrowed.   

“Your dad,” he says.  “Things are… they’re bad, aren’t they?  Worse than just not letting you hang out?” 

Tears spill over again.  You realize he is sniffling now too but holding back tears.  He reaches across to wipe your face with his bare hands, swiping at your tears.   

“I knew for a while,” Jisung says in a strained voice.  “I could see the bruises.  I didn’t know what to do.  And I felt like I was letting you down because—” 

He chokes on his breath.  It gives you a moment to interject.

“You have nothing to feel bad about,” you say. You wipe his tears too, laughing at your equal dramatics.  “Seriously, Jisungie.” 

“No, you don’t understand,” he says, grabbing your hands and pulling them off his face.  He shakes his head like he is trying to shake his tears out of him.  It seems to work.  After another breath, he manages to speak clearly.   “Do you remember our first conversation?  At school?”

“About the weather?” you say, thinking back to the first time Jisung started a conversation. 

“No, before that,” he says.  “We sat beside each other for months but we never spoke.  Then I missed a week of school because I made myself sick, all my stupid anxiety and whatever.  My mom, you know, she tries but she… It’s just easier for her to ignore me most of the time, I think.   I know she didn’t want kids.  So I was taking care of myself.  And I missed school sometimes because of it, but no one ever noticed when I was gone.  It’s like I was invisible everywhere I went.  And I got so sick that week that I just wanted to die.  But then I went back to school and I got my homework from the teachers and then you—”  He slaps his hands in his lap and looks at you, smiling a teary-eyed smile.  “You were the first person to ask where I was and if I was all right.  And you made a face like you didn’t believe me when I said I was.  Then I started talking about the weather.” 

“Oh,” you say, shredding the tissue in your lap for something to look at, trying to keep your tears at bay.  “I didn’t remember that part.” 

“You’re really good at seeing people,” Jisung says.  “Even when they’re trying to hide or pull away.  I don’t know how you think you can’t love when you’re like that.  You know how to do it better than the rest of us who forget to even look.”  He takes your hand again, drawing your eyes up to his.  “But I’m looking back now, okay?  And I’m gonna save you.” 

It is so frank and sincere that it makes you laugh. 

“I am!” he says, laughing through his own watery voice.  “Don’t laugh at me!  You saved me and now I’m gonna save you too.”

“It’s not that easy, Jisung,” you say.  “You have no idea how crazy everything in my life is—”

“It is that easy,” he says.  “You’ll see.  I promise.  And a best friend promise is a forever promise, okay?” 

You cannot bring yourself to argue.  You just nod, your bottom lip wobbling again. 

“Okay,” Jisung says.  “Now come hug me so you can’t see me when I start crying like a baby.” 

You laugh but fall into his arms nonetheless.  You sit under that window for a long time.  At least, it feels like a long time.  You don’t look at the clock and you don’t count the minutes.  It is not the kind of hug that is leading to anything because he doesn’t want to kiss you and he has no other motivation.  He just hugs you until you are both calm, when your tears feel silly and dramatic and your eyes are sore but you feel strangely refreshed. 

“I need to go,” you say, to which he whines in complaint.  You laugh.  “Saving me will have to wait for another day.  For now, if I don’t get home…” 

As if summoned by that very thought, your phone erupts with buzzes and rings.  You sigh and fish it out of the pocket of your shorts, watching messages from your father, his security, and Felix come flooding in.  The others are making commands and demanding your whereabouts.  Felix asks, Are you okay?  Then, I have to turn on your GPS.  They’re gonna come get you wherever you are. 

You answer Felix, telling him you’re fine, that you’re with Jisung.  He sends an emoji that manages to look very unimpressed, then just says, that’s what the boss gets for sending amateurs. 

Your father’s men are far from amateurs but it is still funny when Felix insults them. 

You turn your phone to silent after that, not bothering to answer the others.  They will find you in no time with Felix’s help. 

“I better go,” you say.  “My dad is sending someone to pick me up.  I’ll be fine tonight, I promise.  But I’m gonna start walking because I don’t want you mixed up in any of this when they get here.” 

Jisung tries to argue but lets you go when he sees how serious you are.  He insists you take a hoodie for warmth so you do.  You give him one last wave before you begin the trek down the block, hoping to get far away before your father’s men find you. 

You have made it two blocks over when a sleek black car approaches.  You start to walk towards it because there is no other reason for a car that nice to be slowing down on a street like this.  Only when it gets closer do you realize you the make and model of the car is not one that your father usually uses, and you do not recognize the driver. 

Your heart kicks up with a startled, frantic flutter as the car comes to a slow stop not far from you.  You swerve, crossing to the other side of the street to avoid it.  You try to act nonchalant, reassuring yourself that it is coincidence, that your father’s insanity is seeping into your brain and making you paranoid. 

By the time you realize your anxieties are not baseless, it is too late.  Not that you stood much of a chance in the first place. 

You try running but there are three of them overall, one driver and two armed muscle guys.  They chase you down and cover your mouth before you can scream.  You kick and jostle but all of Felix’s self-defence lessons fly out of your brain in your panic.  Your tears are all used up so you don’t cry.  Even terror passes, leaving only nausea in its wake. 

It doesn’t feel real, being shoved into the back of a car by men in black suits.  This is not something real that happens.  This is something your father threatens, something inane and melodramatic, something out of a movie or a book, not real life.  Not your life. 

Yet here you are, flanked by two strange men while the driver peels across the tarmac.   They do not cuff or gag you, simply buckle you into a seatbelt and point a gun at you.  You are shaking too bad to do anything useful anyway, and your voice feels clogged in your suddenly dry throat. 

They are talking to you but it takes you a minute to register any word, everything fuzzy and out of focus. 

“—just be a good girl and co-operate and everything will be fine.” 

That is all you hear. 

That and the name Miroh. 

You try to calm yourself.  You think rationally.  Miroh has no reason to kill you or even torture you, as far as you know.  In all likelihood, he is using you as leverage to get something from your father.  That is why your father is always worried about you being taken.  He doesn’t talk about damage to you, just his business. 

You manage to calm the worst of your shaking.  Then the one with the gun yanks on your hair and you jerk away violently. 

“She’s better behaved than Miroh said,” he says with a laugh.  “Might not even have to take a finger.” 

You clutch your hands tightly together, glaring at him, but it just garners more chuckles.  The driver laughs too, peering at you through the rear-view mirror. 

“Too well behaved,” he suddenly says, eyes narrowing.  “You check her pockets?” 

It is then you remember your phone.  Felix turned on your GPS.   They can track where you are going.  Felix can track where you are going.  If nothing else, you trust that Felix can do something.  Felix, Felix, Felix.  It is all you can think about.  Felix will find you.  You will be back with Felix tonight, safe in your shared bed. You are always safe with Felix.  You want to be there right now.  You can’t even remember how you got here.  Your whole day is turning into one blacked out nothingness, a dreary bleak empty before you found yourself in this car hurtling to god-knows-what fate. 

The man finds your phone.  You try to reach for it but then you feel the gun at your temple and your whole body locks up.  You have seen a gun before, many times, but you have never had one pointed at you.  You always thought you would be brave, having been around them your whole life.  Maybe that is why you are afraid.  Your body is trying to protect you, freezing you like it always does. 

The man rolls down the window and throws your phone into the wind. 

You sit back and close your eyes, willing this nightmare to end.  You try to convince yourself that this is your father’s doing, that he is just trying to teach you a lesson.  You wouldn’t even be mad.   You just want to go home. 

But there is no sign of your father’s security team.  You pass dozens then hundreds of cars as you leave the residential area and take the highway.  None of your father’s vehicles are among them.  And how could they be?  They can track as far as your phone and then they have nothing.  There is no way for them to know where Miroh’s men are taking you.  You have no idea what they want.  You can’t even cry or panic because your body is shutting itself down in its panic.  The periphery of your gaze is obscured in shadow.   Their voices fade in and out, rarely directed at you anyway.  They seem to know you will not answer.  They have experience with this sort of thing. 

Of course they do.  Miroh is your father’s only equal.  Your father does nothing by halves.  Miroh would only send the best. 

You leave the highway and turn onto a country road out of the city.  Wherever they are taking you, it is far and they are unhurried.  You have a long time to stew in your anxiety.    

You can only see directly in front of you, through the windshield and the rear-view mirror.  You stare, willing one of your father’s black cars to appear in it even though you know that will not happen.  The only cars are civilian cars and even those begin to disappear as they take side roads to their own destinations.  Soon it is just one other car trailing you at a distance.  It is a beat-up civilian truck, not very big, a splotchy, peeling burgundy.   The rims are muddy from frequent use and little washing. 

It is ugly but it could be the last thing you see for a while.  It makes you stare more intensely. 

You are focussing so hard on the tiny details that you do not even notice it is speeding up.  It goes from a distant spot to filling the rear-view in moments.  

The driver mumbles a curse to himself, shaking his head and frowning. 

“What’s this idiot doing?” he grumbles.  “As if we don’t have enough to deal with.  Now we got some drunk on the road.” 

The truck is swerving, back and forth, then it speeds up and whips past your car.  It startles the driver, making him veer a hard right as the truck goes left around him.  He shouts a curse even though the other driver can’t hear, the truck already speeding away into the darkness.  There are no street lamps on the country road so it completely vanishes, disappearing when it leaves the glow of your headlights. 

There is a moment of quiet.  A tunnel of light.  Darkness around it. 

The truck appears again in the middle of it, parked and blocking the entire road lengthwise.  The driver shouts another curse and slams on the brakes to stop from barrelling into it. 

The whole car lurches with the sudden halt.  You snap forward and back again, held down by the seatbelt.  The other two hit the seats in front of them, cursing as they fix themselves.  The weapons guy drops his gun and it clatters somewhere on the ground of the vehicle.  You watch him dive down, cursing to himself before he finds it. 

“Get him out of the way!” the driver shouts, pointing to the stopped vehicle.   The two men get out of the car, sounding more aggravated by the obstacle than afraid.  The other one pulls a gun so they are both armed as they approach the vehicle. 

The men circle the truck.  You can see they are yelling and cursing again.  They come stomping back over to the vehicle.   Even with all the windows rolled up, you can hear him as he shouts, “There’s no one fucking there!” 

“What!” the driver returns, pointing ahead.  “He didn’t just disappear!  Check the—”  

He is interrupted by the rattle of unexpected thunder – what sounds like someone running up and over the car from behind.  You both look up as if you can see through the car roof.  The men outside react just as fast, guns raised.  Shots are swiftly fired and you cover your ears, flinching. 

The figure comes into view.  It feels like your heart stops. 

Felix takes a flying leap off the roof of the car and comes swinging into view.  He lands on the shoulders of one of the men.  In one sharp move, Felix snaps the man’s neck.  When his body crumples, Felix jumps, tackling the other man and knocking his gun out of the way.  He pulls his own gun out of his waistband and you don’t even have time to cover your eyes before a bullet shatters the man’s temple.  That body falls too. 

It was a matter of seconds.  The driver scarcely has time to react.  He is fumbling with the glove compartment when Felix walks up to the car and shoots his window.   The bullet does not penetrate the glass but it fractures it, sending shards flying onto the man. 

You shriek, your voice coming back to you.  Felix smacks the broken window with the butt of the gun, shattering it completely.  He unlocks the car, his face devoid of all emotion as he throws open the door and reaches in.  He grabs the man by the scruff of his neck and repeatedly slams his head against the steering wheel, knocking him out cold. 

He closes the door with a kick and tucks his gun back in his waistband. 

Adrenaline completely takes over your body.  You do not think or reflect, only feel and act.   Felix steps toward the car to open your door but you are already pushing it open.  He steps back when it flies past him, already breathing hard when you stumble out of the vehicle on shaky legs. 

“Do you have any idea—” he starts, his deep voice breaking.  “Any, any idea how worried I was?  And those stupid, fucking, incompetent—”

He is pointing to nowhere, just gesticulating in his emotions.  It all seems to pour of him, terror and agony, anger and helplessness.  He is wearing casual clothes, ripped jeans, a sleeveless red flannel over a t-shirt.  He was probably sitting at home when he jumped into action.    

His dark roots are starting show in his golden hair.  You will have to colour that for him, you think, giddily, half-mad. 

“You could have died,” he is saying.  “They could have—”

You throw your arms around his neck and crash into him.  It is a collision of a kiss, more teeth than lips until you figure out to close your mouth. 

Those men could not move him but you can.   He backs up under the guiding push of your soft hands, walking, walking, walking, each quick backward step until you have him pressed up against the truck, your lips still locked.  When you finally separate it is with a gasping, wet split.  You stare at each other, taking in the reality of the other person.  Him, with blood disappearing into the red threads of his flannel.  You, alive, unharmed, right here in front of him with no one to stop him from kissing you again. 

He grabs you by the neck and pulls you back to him, kissing you with an open-mouthed desperation that has you practically sobbing with need.  He flips your positions, cupping the back of your head so you are not hurt when he pins you to the truck.  You sink your fingers into his hair, wrapping a leg around his waist as he grinds against the softest spot of you.  He licks into your mouth, making a rumbling noise of deep, heartfelt satisfaction that makes you throb. 

His lips are pink and raw when he stops for a breath.  You kiss the side of his face, clinging to him, making a pleading noise when he does not resume kissing you. 

He steps back and points to the car. 

“Get in the truck,” he says firmly.  “This isn’t the time.  Don’t argue.” 

You have no desire whatsoever to argue.  You climb into the passenger seat while Felix makes a phone call.  You watch him through the window, running a hand through his hair, his mouth pink, his shirt blood-stained. 

You have always known Felix was capable of this sort of thing, but seeing it is very different than imagining it.  Before it was some nebulous concept of a person but now the reality of him collides with the boy who has been sharing your bed for years.  This is the same boy who needed your help to tie his school tie.  Cartoon-watching, computer-building Felix, with his dry wit and toothy smiles. 

You are not sure what it says about you that you are not afraid of him, not even a little bit.  Maybe it is because you are not surprised.  Maybe it is something else.  But the only thing you want right now is for him to put his arms around you. 

He gets into the truck and sits there for a moment, just breathing as he looks down at his phone.  A thought flickers across his eyes, a twitch of his brows, then he turns off the phone and tosses it into the backseat.   The gun follows with a clatter.  You look back at both then at him with shock. 

Felix has never turned off that phone.  It is always completely charged and within reach.  The GPS cannot be tracked if it is off.  Your father cannot reach him if it is off.   It is never supposed to be off. 

You stare at him, tracing his profile as he pushes his hair back then starts the car.   You only look away when you pass the other vehicle, the unconscious driver still slumped over the wheel.  You turn your head, watching the scene disappear into the darkness behind you. 

“Your father’s men will clean it up,” Felix says, drawing your eyes back to him.  He does not look away from the road, resolutely focussed despite the lack of traffic on the country road.

“You left one alive,” you say.  “What if he wakes up?”

“Uhh, he’ll be lucky if he is conscious in two days,” Felix says with a scoff.  His lips draw into that thin line.  “Your father will want someone to interrogate.”

You look out the windshield and sigh.  You feel like you have aged years tonight yet it also feels like none of this really happened.  It seems impossible that moments ago you were staring through a different windshield, petrified. 

Felix looks at you.  You turn your head and meet his gaze, watching grief twist his features before he looks ahead again. 

“Did they hurt you?” he asks, gripping the wheel tight with both hands. 

You shake your head, still facing him, studying him. 

“I was thinking about you,” you say, the words escaping in a breathless slur.  “It was the only thing that made me feel safe.”  You find it easier to speak your feelings after everything.  It’s like all that fear blasted through a barricade.  You thought you might never see him again and all those feelings were trapped inside you.  You cannot help but let them pour out now, like blood seeping from an open wound, your hand shaking as you reach across the console to touch the side of his face. 

His breath stutters.  He takes your hand and for a moment holds it, squeezing it in his.  He does not look away from the road.  Eventually he puts your hand in your lap, curling it around your thigh and squeezing, then he grabs the wheel again. 

Your gaze drifts to the wheel then the overall truck.  The rest of reality comes back to you in increments and you suddenly realize this is obviously not one of your father’s cars. 

“Where did you get this truck?” you ask. 

“I stole it,” he says. 

“You stole a car?!” you shriek, voice naturally pitching up with surprise. 

He looks at you incredulously. 

“I just killed two men,” he says.  “You’re worried about the car?” 

“I don’t know!”  You slouch in your seat, looking out the window.  “Don’t talk to me, I’m traumatized.” 

He shakes his head but laughs a little.   You do not speak for a bit, the only sound the tires rolling over the gravel road.  Then Felix sighs. 

“They wouldn’t listen,” he says.  “Your father’s, hmmm, ‘professionals’.”  He rolls his eyes and clicks his jaw, clearly still pissed about it.  “I knew it had to be Miroh.  You were heading west to the highway when your GPS stopped.  I knew where they’d be taking you.  But your father’s geniuses thought you threw your phone and were running.  But you wouldn’t do that, yeah.  You want to be found.  That’s why you run.  You want him to care enough to chase you and bring you home.” 

You look out your window, resting your head in your hand as rows of dark trees pass you by. 

“Home,” you say.  “Miroh.  Not sure there’s going to be a difference in what’s waiting, is there?” 

Felix says nothing to this.  The gravel road comes to an end as you approach tarmac.  Instead of turning left to return to the highway, Felix turns right.  You look back through the window, confused, wondering if you mistook your location.  But no, you are definitely driving further into the countryside. 

“The highway is that way,” you say, looking at him.  His whole body is tense, eyes locked on the road.  “Aren’t we going home?”

“Yes,” he says, then turns up a different country road.  “Eventually.” 

You do not know what to expect with Felix.  His emotional fluctuation is not as blatant as yours, but he does waver unpredictably, one moment leaning towards you and then pulling away.  You do not know what he is planning and you do not ask.  You simply stare through the window as you turn up a few more roads, getting further and further from the main road until you turn into a small gravel lane between some fields.  Bushes surround the car on either side, the main road very far behind you. 

Felix turns off the car but keeps both hands on the wheel, still staring intensely out the front window.

“Where are we?” you ask, squinting through the dark at the fields.  It feels exceptionally quiet without the engine running. 

“This cannot happen again,” Felix says.

He is still facing forward, concentrating on nothing that you can see.  You look ahead then back at him, sighing with exasperation.  If he drove you out here to just to lecture you some more…

“I know,” you say.  “I shouldn’t have left in the first place.  I’m sorry.  I know it’s your job to—”

“This has nothing to do with my job,” he says.  He shakes his head.  “I— You—Do you understand how I—  This is— This is reckless.  Stupid.  It cannot happen again, yeah?  Do you get me?”

“I know,” you say.  “And it won’t.  I get it.  No more running, I just—”

Your breath catches when he looks at you.  There is so much heat in his gaze that you feel immediately flushed.

He undoes his seatbelt then reaches across the console and undoes yours.  When you hear the click, it all registers.  You reach for him as he wraps a hand around the back of your neck and pulls.  This kiss is a crash as well, but a stumbling one, less vicious than thirsty.  Arms get tangled in seatbelts but he manages to whip them aside.  He guides you into his lap as you climb ungracefully over the console with all your shaking limbs. 

You make a sound like relief when you are in his lap, chests touching, knees pressing into his hips, arms around his neck.  His hands are under your borrowed hoodie, then under your shirt, palms splayed against the bare skin of your back as he kisses you with a wet open mouth, hungry and seeking, asking and taking. 

He reaches to the side and fumbles for something.  You squeal with surprise when the seat abruptly drops, your combined weight pushing it flat when he flips the lever.  The surprise passes and he spills back, taking you with him.   He yanks at your hoodie and you sit up to pull your arms through.  Embarrassingly enough, you get tangled trying to remove it at the same time as your shirt.   You get them both off, laughing shyly and feeling ridiculous with your ungraceful action. 

He blinks up at you, his face full of much more wonder and affection than you think you merit.  It is almost more embarrassing than your clumsiness. 

Your awkward hand covers your collarbone but he takes that hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing you palm then your fingertips.  You throb with the recollection of the last time he took your fingers in his mouth, except this time he doesn’t look away, all that heat centred on you. 

He grasps your hips then slides his hands up your body.  You wonder if other people feel like one big shivering mess at such simple touches.   You blame it on today’s chaotic episode.  For a moment, you were nothing and no one, floating in a bleak emptiness with no past or future.  Just a bartering tool, business collateral, a thing sitting in a car for transport to be used by a different bad man for financial leverage. 

Felix touches you and your body comes to life, all that humanity rushing back.  You’re a person and so is he, flushed and excited, just a little messy but earnest.  You find yourselves in a stolen moment in a stolen car, nothing yours but each other. 

He palms your breasts through your bra then fumbles with the clasp, his usually dexterous hands suddenly jumpy.  It makes you both laugh, tittering little sounds as you get it off and toss it aside.  His calloused hands on your bare skin erases any lingering embarrassment.

Straddling his hips, you rock against him.  The hard line of him is pushing at the fly of his jeans, as receptive and eager as you.  You make similar sounds, soft low hums, used to keeping quiet.  You remember you don’t have to restrain yourself so you moan when he cups you through your shorts, grinding the heel of his palm against the soft wet heat of you.  You push his shirt up, running your hands over his chest, noticing a few scars but not lingering much right now. 

You touch him like he touches you, hands wandering, working each other up until you are wild in your wanting.  He makes a rough sound when you squeeze him through his jeans, then he is trying to work off your shorts while you unbutton his fly.  You have to get off him to take the rest of your clothes off.  His fingers are twitchy as they scrabble over his fly, unzipping then shuffling his jeans down his hips. 

You are confronted with that moment of intention again, when his jeans are at his knees and his shirt is pushed up, when you are completely naked in a car in the middle of nowhere and climbing back on top of him, making the deliberate choice to do what you are doing.  It is exhilarating.  It is scary.  You have big fears, about the repercussions in the world outside this vehicle, and you have little fears, like what if you are not good at this and you let him down after everything. 

But that seems impossible when he looks at you like that, warm and desirous, breathing hard as he drags his fingers down your body and slips them between your thighs.  You touch him too, marvelling in his sounds and faces, the flush of his cheeks, his mussed hair.  With just his fingers inside you, he is already looking at you like you are a singular miracle. 

It does feel miraculous.  When you think of where you started, when you think of who you are, this seems so impossible.  But you are here, losing yourself to his steady touch and tender gaze.  You grab his wrist, instinctively seeking control when he works you up to an orgasm, making you clench around his fingers.  You shudder on top of him, your head tipping back.   

“Fuck,” he says, so low and guttural it hardly sounds like a word.  Then he says softly, “Sweetheart.” This is accompanied with a long touch inside you, dragging his fingers so slowly, drawing out your orgasm until your whole body feels soft and pliant.  You ache with the loss of him when he withdraws his touch, just his thumb rolling across that oversensitive nub of pleasure.  Your skin already feels sweaty where you are touching, your hand curled around the length of him as you position yourself above him. 

Even with his effort, it is a stretch and burn when you first sink down.  You smack a hand on the roof of the truck, scratching your nails over it as you sit in his lap with him inside you. 

He curses.  His head falls back, his eyes closing. 

“Is it okay?” you ask in a strained voice. 

He replies, “Ahh…” then, “Uh!” then “Uhhhahh…” then finally, “Yes, yes.  God yes.”  He lifts his head and looks at where he is inside you, then he looks up at you.  “Are you, uh, are you okay?” 

His voice is a raspy thing, his face so raw with pleasure that you find yourself giggling in spite of yourself. 

“Yeah,” you say on a breath.  “Just… a lot.” 

He sits up, careful not to jostle you too much.  You still feel him moving inside you.  When you clench, he makes a sound, but he is not distracted from his mission, cupping the back of your head and bringing you close for a kiss.  You sink into it, your hands sliding onto his shoulders as his tongue slips past your lips. 

He helps you move, both of you following base instinct and little else.  It starts to feel deliriously good.  You are light-headed from kissing, worked up from knowing he is as close to you as he possibly can be. 

You move slowly, hands roaming over each other.  You get his flannel off and toss it into the passenger seat.  Then he braces himself to move his hips better, holding you steady.  You touch the roof so you don’t hit your head, rolling your hips to meet him.  It’s good but not enough and soon he is turning you over, laying you on your back under him.  He has to separate from you to get comfortable. 

You whine, touching yourself, and he smacks his head hard against the roof with surprise.  You laugh, slapping a hand over your mouth while he winces and rubs his head. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, still giggling.  Fortunately, he chuckles, wincing again for show before sighing. 

“Never better,” he says, and takes off his shirt.  You are both perspiring and not just from exertion, the car trapping all your combined heat and breathing.  The windows have completely fogged over and it shields you completely.  You have never felt more safe.  You eagerly open your legs to him as he settles on top of you and finds his place again. 

You wrap around him, whimpering and moaning and sighing when he finds a rhythm in this position.  He cradles you in his arms, rocking into you until you are dizzy with it.  He somehow feels deeper and deeper with every motion.  He kisses your chest and throat, up to your ear, across your face, your mouth.   You kiss him back, hooking your ankles behind his back and pulling him hard against you like you want more. 

“Got you,” he murmurs, lips grazing your ear.  “Got you, sweetheart.” 

He makes you come again, tears springing to your eyes from the sensation of it all.   When his breathing gets frantic and his hips erratic, you let him go.  You breathe hard under him as he sits back and grabs his discarded flannel, coming into that.

 He tosses it aside after, then runs his fingers through his hair as he stares down at you.  You slowly sit up and lean in for one more kiss.  He obliges, cupping your face and kissing you deeply. 

You want to wrap around him again, hold him to your chest and lay there until you are both ready for more.

You take what you can get.  This was dangerous, but you have no regrets.  Even when you are both dressed and in your own seats, you feel enflamed and alive and glowing. 

He tosses his flannel out the window, leaving it on the ground behind you.  You roll down the windows and return to the highway.  It is a long drive home. 

-

Your father does not punish you.  He does not punish Felix in place of you.  The house is deathly silent when you arrive home.  Your father is in his office and Felix takes you there to see him. 

Your father does not even look up from his book.  After a moment he asks, “Did they hurt you?” 

You shake your head but he isn’t looking at you, so you are forced to find your voice and answer, “No.” 

“Good,” he says and turns the page to his book. 

You are teetering on the edge of panic all over again, waiting for him to erupt, to throw something at you, to grab you by the hair and give you a beating worse than anything ever before.  But he just turns another page to his book, so it’s you that erupts. 

“It wasn’t my fault,” you say in a frantic rush. “Hyunjin and I broke up and I was upset so I wanted to see Jisung, that’s it, I just wanted to see my friend.  It’s just because—”

Felix puts a hand on your shoulder, trying to stop you from running your mouth when you don’t need to do so.  It succeeds in silencing you, your voice breaking.  You swallow down a sob. 

Your father finally lifts his head.  His expression is completely blank.  There is no trace of anger, no sadness, no guilt.  You do not know what to do when he is like this.  He is giving you nothing worth a reaction so all your emotions bubble inside you with nowhere to go, spilling over and scalding you like a boiling pot.

“Go to bed,” your father says.  “What’s done is done.” 

It is not surprising that you have a nightmare, waking in a fit that even Felix cannot comfort.  Your half-asleep mind panics when he grabs you, forgetting who he is.  Only when he repeats your name in that sweet, low voice do you remember yourself.  You collapse against him, shaking while he strokes your back and talks gently to you, lulling you back to sleep.  It remains fitful and uneven but you get through the night. 

You are expecting the punishment to come in the morning but your father does not speak to you even though he is in the house.  You do not see him all day.  You have another restless night of bad dreams, Felix comforting you as best he can.  You wake the next morning thinking that surely, the punishment would come today.  There is no way your father is letting you get away with this.  He is planning something, something big, something you will never forget. 

But your father is gone and so is the security team.  Felix phones him and your father informs him that he had some impromptu business to take care of, that he would be gone for the next week.   

You are driving to school on Monday morning when Felix says, “Maybe he thinks it was punishment enough on its own.”  

“Do you really believe that?” you ask. 

Felix does not answer because he knows how far-fetched that is.  He knows your father as well as you do. 

There are only a couple more days of school.  This late in the semester, the lessons are completed, exams being graded.  Everyone is gearing up for graduation, signing yearbooks, taking pictures.   Classes offer more down time than work, letting students mingle.  It is easy few handful of days, the most exceptionally fun days of the whole year. 

Jisung would not miss it.  And he would not abandon you after your conversation.  When he is missing from school on Monday, you are immediately filled with horror. 

Felix looks at you when he realizes Jisung is missing, doing his best to calm you with his eyes. 

“He wouldn’t,” you murmur, just loud enough for Felix to hear.  “Tell me he wouldn’t…” 

Felix says nothing.  He knows your father as well as you do. 

You try phoning Jisung at various intervals through the day but it keeps going straight to voicemail.  Jisung is not great at keeping his phone charged so this is not unusual on its own, but you cannot shake the dread in the pit of your gut. 

Before the day ends, you all but throw yourself at Felix.  All it takes is one teary-eyed please for him to nod, understanding. 

You have the driver take you to Jisung’s house.  Felix steps out of the car and calls your father, needing to report your diversion from routine, but also hopefully gleaning some intel into your father’s potential involvement.  Meanwhile, you run up the porch and frantically bang on the door, not stopping until Jisung’s mother whips it open. 

“What?” she snaps.  “Why are you banging— oh it’s you.”

“Where is he?” you ask.  “Is he sick?  Can I see him?” 

“He’s just at the hospital,” she says like this is no big deal at all, even while you are sweating through your clothes with anxious terror. 

“The hospital?” you ask.  “Why is he—”

“Calm down!  He just had an allergic reaction,” she says.  “Stupid child ate peanuts and didn’t have his pen.  He’ll be fine.” 

“Can you tell me which hospital?” you say.  Some tension leaves your body with this revelation but even so, you will not feel truly at ease until you can see that Jisung is safe with your own two eyes.

His mother tells you where to find him and you thank her while she closes the door in your face.  You are feeling lighter already, heart bursting with light when you spin and jump off the porch. 

You rush up to Felix, eager to report your good news, but you draw to a slow stop at the look on his face.  This is not his professional indifference, listening to commands, but instead an expression of obvious remorse.  He looks apologetic, eyes full of pity, as he extends his arm, handing you the phone. 

You press the device to your ear, heart skipping beats in the worst way. 

“Hello?” you say. 

“After everything I have done for you,” your father says.  “After everything I have given you.  After my leniency despite your repeated abominable behaviour.  For you to end things with an appropriate boy to go chasing after some no-count, miscreant loser with no future and no—”

“What are you talking about?” you say.  “I don’t even know—”

“You stupid little—”  You can picture his face, mouth frothing with rage, brows pinched in fury.  You can picture him catching his breath as he slams a hand on his desk.  “Do you think I couldn’t see it all over your face?  That you were out whoring around with that nobody boy you call a friend?  I could see your commitment to the Hwang boy was a front but I foolishly thought you were making an effort to improve yourself.  How long have you been deceiving me?  Fronting with the Hwang boy while you run around with your schoolboy behind my back?” 

He thinks you’re dating Jisung.  He thinks this is all because of Jisung.  You cannot tell him the truth without ruining your life, Felix’s life, and Hyunjin’s life. 

You scramble for a defence, a denial, but memories of you and Felix flood your mind, the panic of that night takes over you, and soon you are freezing up. 

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” you eventually manage, your voice quivering with the rest of you.  “Please, Jisung is completely innocent, he’s just my friend, he—”

“Please,” your father says derisively.  “You have the audacity to say please to me now.  To ask for my permission now.   You listen to me and you listen well.  What I did to this boy was nothing. Having an allergen slipped into his food was a warning to you.  Your one and only warning, a warning I am only giving you because I prefer not to deal with civilian messes when I can avoid it.  But I whole-heartedly assure you, that if I find out you are in contact with this boy, if I find out you are even thinking about looking in his direction, it is over for him.  I will have him shot in the fucking head in front of you if that’s what it will take to get through to you.” 

You are bombarded with the image of Felix shooting those men.  Suddenly, you imagine it is Jisung across from him instead.  You look at Felix with a frantic, terrified look.  Your voice is weak when you say, “Dad, please, he’s—”

“Do not talk to back me!” he screams.  “You spoiled little slut!  He’s trash, is what he is!  Do you know what kind of life I have given you?  How dare you insult me this way.  How dare you throw it all on that waste of a person.  You go to that boy and you tell him to stay away or it will be the end of him.  Do you understand me?  Say yes or so help me—”

“Yes,” you say, sucking in a hard breath to keep your tears at bay.  “Yes, fine, just leave him alone.  Don’t hurt him, please.” 

Your father hangs up without another word.   

You look up at Felix.  He takes the phone, sucking in a breath of his own. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

“It’s not your fault,” you say. 

Jisung is sitting up in his hospital bed when you find him.  His phone is a dead brick sitting on his bedside table, uncharged as anticipated.  He is sipping from a carton and watching television when you walk into the room, surprising him.  His face lights up with delight and he chokes on his drink, dribbling a bit down his front. 

You hurry to his side, worried, but he just laughs and wipes his chin. 

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” he says.  “It was just a flare-up.  They’re just keeping me for observation to make sure I don’t, you know, suffocate and die in my sleep.”  He says this like it is ridiculous and funny but you are overwhelmed with the image of Jisung lying still in this bed, all the life and colour of your wonderful and vibrant best friend drained to nothing. 

Jisung can see something is wrong.  The humour falls from his expression, replaced with concern as he sees you well up with tears. 

“Hey,” he says, softer.  “I said I’m fine.  Don’t worry.  Is this about something else?  Are you okay?” 

You are not crying but you can feel the emotion in your throat.  If you speak, you think it will pour out in a flood.  You can only sit there, perched on the edge of his bed, staring at him.  He still looks strange without his hat.  Although he is joking around, there is an admitted pallor to his complexion.  He is on the mend but he has clearly been very ill for a day at least. 

That pallor and serious expression look so wrong on his face.  When you think of Jisung, you think of happiness, the first burst of sunshine in your life after growing up in shade.  You think about his awkward laughter during your first conversation, his many hugs, his stupid jokes, his winks and encouragements.  You did not know how to love anyone or anything until you met him. 

In your silence, he looks around, spotting Felix hovering in the doorway. 

“Felix!” he says.  “Hey!  What’s going on?”

“Hey,” Felix says gently.  He looks at you, sees your downturned face as you gather yourself.  He smiles at Jisung with his best distracting grin, like everything is fine, like everything has always been fine.  “Just saying bye, man,” Felix says. 

“Bye?”  Jisung asks.  ���Where are you going?  Right before grad?  Not back to Australia, are you?”  Jisung looks at you and pets your head.  “Is Felix leaving?  Is that why you’re upset?”  

“No, Jisung,” you say, forcing your voice.  You shake your head.  “No, it’s not Felix.  I just…”  You look up and meet his eyes, so big and concerned.  You see him at age twelve, thirteen, fourteen, all those years he coaxed you out of your shell and ran around with you.  He was the first person to look back at you, to see something worth reaching for.   You want to touch his face and hug him, but you are certain if you start any of that, you will not be able to do what you need to do.  “Jisung, I’m leaving,” you say.  “I won’t be able to see you again.” 

“What?” he asks, confused for just a moment before he shakes his head and frowns.  “This is about your dad, isn’t it?  Is he doing something?  You have to let me help you—”

“Jisung, you can’t help me—”

“Yes, I can—”

“You can’t—”

“Then who’s going to?” he demands. 

“Not you!”  Anger and sadness combine and you look away, staring at the crinkled juice carton on his bedside table.  He is here because of you.  “Jisung, he made you sick.  He will try to kill you.” 

“What?”  Jisung asks, barely above a whisper.  “H-how?  I don’t even—”

“He has professionals,” you say, meeting his bewildered gaze again.  “And he can do much worse than this.” 

Jisung opens and closes his mouth, failing to find the words, then finally he shakes his head and says, “No.  I don’t care.  I’m not scared, I’m—”

“I’m scared,” you say.  “Jisung, I don’t want to see you ever again, because if something happened to you—”  You cannot conceive of a world where this is no Han Jisung.  You would not be the person you are now if he had never existed.  You would not have any emotions at all.  For the first time, you do not curse your sensitive feelings, rather you relish in feeling them at all, that you have a friend that it hurts to lose.   “Jisung, please,” you say.  “Don’t make this harder for me.  I’m going to go and we can’t see each other again.  The best thing you can do for me is have a good life.” 

Jisung starts crying, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. 

“That’s not fair,” he says.  “What about you?  What am I supposed to do?”

“I’m sorry,” you say.  You laugh dryly, looking aside. “It would have been better for you if you never knew me.”

“You already know that’s not true,” he says in a small voice. 

You are certain his face is full of pain but you cannot bring yourself to look at him again.  You try to say the word goodbye but it gets stuck in your throat, so finally you just stand up to leave.   

He grabs your arm, tugging you back.  You stare at the bed, not at him. 

“I said my promise was forever,” he says.  “I don’t care if it’s in five years, or ten years, or fifty.  I know I’m not—I know I can’t do much but—if you need me—”

You just nod, scrunching your face to stop the tears.  It does not work.  You pull your arm away and he lets you go, his hands falling helplessly limp to the bed.  You stare at the ground as you walk away, not looking back at him, not even looking at Felix. 

You are standing in the doorway when Jisung says your name one more time, barely more than a whisper yet stopping you faster than all your father’s screaming. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” he says. 

You look up at Felix.  You know when you leave this place, you are going to take his hand.  When you climb into bed tonight, you are going to wrap your arms around him and let him hold and comfort you.  You are going to soothe his nightmares the way he does yours.  You are going to carve out a corner of light and happiness in your otherwise dark life.  You are going to do that because you know how, because having a friend made all the difference. 

“Oh, Jisung,” you say, wiping your face.  “You did save me.” 

You do not stop again, walking past Felix and into the corridor.  He follows swiftly behind, laying a hand on your lower back then taking your hand.  You squeeze it and he squeezes back.  You let him guide you out of the building, your vision blurry.  He knows there is nothing he can say to help right now, but he touches you gently and helps you along.  When you get home, he trails behind you as you trudge up the stairs to the bedroom. 

“Can I do something?” he asks. 

You shake your head.  “Not right now, thank you.” Your voice is still weak.  “Maybe later.” 

“Okay,” he says.  “I’ll be here.”

You nod and continue up the stairs, not even sure what your plan is right now.  It feels strange to go about your usual routine but that is what you do, your body carrying you automatically through each task, changing clothes, putting your uniform away, washing your face. 

You sit at your desk and decide you might as well go through your stack of school supplies.  You have been dumping textbooks and notebooks here as the semester ends.  You sort the empty notebooks from the used ones, the books you will never re-read from the ones to shelve.  You find your yearbook in the middle of it all.  You realize you never actually read Jisung’s message. 

You open the book, skimming the other messages from other students.  Lots of Have a Great Summer from Hyunjin’s friends, but a few cute personalized memos too.  Felix’s joking scrawl is at the bottom of a page and it makes you smile and shake your head.  You smile again when you read Hyunjin’s note: Our lives will not be meaningless.  He ended it with a playful, LOVE YOU MY GIRLFRIEND!!

You flip through the book.  You were not in any clubs or on any teams so there are very few pictures of you, just your posed portrait and one photo on a collage page – you, Jisung, and Felix awkwardly smiling as the yearbook photographer snapped a picture of you at lunchtime. 

You swallow.  You already know turning to the last page is going to make you cry.  You could avoid it.  You could close this book and never think about it again.  Your father would never walk into any situation that would deliberately compromise his mental and emotional integrity.  He would deride you for doing so.  You used to think he was right, that your feelings were a weakness. 

You realize your feelings make him weak, not you.  He wants you to be a robotic doll, devoid of feelings, blindly obedient, but you are not.  You will never strive to be that. 

You flip to the final page, filled with Jisung’s writing.  You smile and cry and curse out your father, then close the book and hug it to your chest, your heart beating steadily where you cradle it close. 

-

To the bestest most awesome girl in the world (not just saying that because you’re the only girl I know) from the bestest most awesome boy in the world (including your evil boyfriend, sorry!) 

Usually it’s easy for me to put my thoughts in writing but I’m drawing a blank.  How can I tell you in words how important your friendship is when that friendship is made up of more than words?  I never thought I’d be someone who runs off to parties or sneaks out onto rooftops, and I never thought I’d have so many friends.  Thank you for giving me the world.  I hope we can keep exploring it together. I know no matter what, we’ll still be friends, even if we’re far away after school ends.  Our parents might suck and we might be kinda weird as hell, but we have each other and that counts for something.  We loved each other first so no matter what else happens that will be always true.  Boyfriends will come and go but your best friend is forever!!  And you know I’ll be ready with a shovel if anyone breaks your heart.  I know it’s sappy to say, but it’s always safe with me.  

Times might be hard and we might drift apart, but I know we’ll see each other again and it will be like we never left.  Take care of yourself if I’m not there.  Keep fighting!!!  Nothing will be impossible for you. 

Your best friend now + always,

Han Jisung ♡

[mint-yooxgi]

Depravity - Yandere!Wolf!Bang Chan

Yandere AU & Wolf AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Bang Chan X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,024

Warnings: Establish relationship. Predator/prey dynamics, and implications of consensual non-consent (cnc). This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I honestly had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy it, too! It's feral, but sweet? At least, in my opinion lol... Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Fourteenth of The Feral Drabbles

I can smell you.

Oh, Baby Girl, knowing you’re as excited for this as I am just makes needing to catch you all the more sweeter. The pull you have on me is even stronger than that of the moon itself, and tonight, you’re mine.

I’ll admit, when you first suggested that I chase you around the woods like this, I was a little hesitant. Surprised would be an understatement, considering I thought I was dreaming again. There was no way you were letting one of my deepest fantasies come to life. Yet, here we are.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

The mental image alone of how your eyes lit up in excitement after I agreed to this fuels every movement I make. I need to get to you. I need to have you. There’s no escaping your fate, Baby. I’ll catch up to you, and when I do, you better be ready. After all, it was you who told me to unleash the beast.

He craves you. I have always craved you. Since the first moment I saw you, I knew that we were meant to be. I did everything in my power to ensure you only ever saw the best of me, but you’ve secretly wanted me to let loose. All this time, and I thought you were perfectly content with me being nothing but a gentleman.

Oh, how wrong I was.

You seek the thrill of the hunt, too. If only I had known sooner, I would have gladly made your heart shudder as it is now while I chase you through the foliage, creeping closer with each step. 

I can hear everything, you know. I can hear the way your breath hitches with every snap of a twig. You heart stutters each time my footsteps approach you. I can tell you’re trying to be sneaky, but there’s nothing you can do that would throw me off your trail. Your very being calls to me, and like hell am I letting you slip away.

Though, I’m not unreasonable. I even gave you a head start, just like you wanted. The goal is to end in our little cabin, deep within the darkness of the woods. No one to disturb us; I can have you all to myself. 

I plan to make you scream tonight, Baby Girl; only you, me, and the moon.

Tracking you has never been easier. I’m already attuned to your every move. I have to be. I care too much about you to not know every little detail I can about the beauty I plan to spend the rest of my life with. Our story will be timeless, as will our love. I’ll make sure of it, even if it’s the last thing I ever do. I’m never letting you go, though from the way your excited giggles fill the air, I can tell you don’t want me to, either.

With every passing moment, your scent becomes stronger. I could end this quickly, but you wanted to draw this out. Besides, I want to give us a satisfactory prelude to the night I’m about to give you. You told me not to hold back, and the longer I spend hunting you, the more that burning desire within me swirls and builds.

Fuck- I can’t wait to have you spread out beneath me, naked and trembling in ecstasy. I want to see your eyes roll, and your thighs shake. I want to hear you scream my fucking name, praising the moon for bringing us together just as it has always been fated to be. I plan to take everything from you, and give everything of me in return. I won’t stop until we’re both satisfied, Baby Girl. I’ll show you just how insatiable I can be…

I’m getting closer, I can tell. I wonder if you’ll be able to see my golden eyes cutting through the darkness. You told me not to hold back, and I don’t intend to. Of course, I promised not to chase you in my true form, that’s just unfair. There wouldn’t be a chase if I did that, and I swore I would never hurt you. Though, it would be fun to see your reaction when a large, handsome wolf comes bounding up to you, only for it to shift into me in the next second.

Perhaps next time…

Just wait until you see how strong I can be. All those times I’ve held you close, I’ve cut back on how tightly my arms would wrap around you. Now, I don’t have to. You want me to lose control. You want me to claim you, just as I’ve always desired. By the time I’m done with you, all you’ll be able to think about is the way my hands feel all over your body. Your mind will be so consumed by the pleasure of it all, the only thing you’ll be able to remember is my name. My fingers will leave marks all over your skin, igniting a fire over your body just as your touch does to mine. Tonight, as with every other night, I serve you. I will always serve you.

Fuck- just thinking about the way my fingers are going to sink into your plush skin makes me quicken my pace. I want to feel you beneath me, squirming and begging for more. I want to make your hips buck into my mouth as my tongue explores every dip and crevice of you. I already know you taste amazing, but tonight, it’ll mean that much more.

Oh, Baby… I can’t wait to feel you dripping all over me. My fingers ache to be buried in that tight little cunt of yours. My lips long to be pressed against every inch of your body. A body which brings me to my knees every single goddamn time I look at you. If only you could have heard the way I whined for you when this whole thing started. I’m desperate, Baby, and you should know that it’s all for you. All because of you, and once I’ve unleashed him, there’s no turning back.

I’m going to have you fucking begging me for more as my tongue buries itself in that precious cunt of yours. I can’t wait to taste you, and have you dripping down my chin like you usually do. I want to feel your thighs squeezing around my head as I drown in that addictive nectar that flows from between your legs. I’m gonna fucking lose myself in you, just like I always do.

Hmm, I wonder how many times I can make you squirt? Five? Six? …Seven?

No matter. I plan to lose count, anyways.

I’m almost there…

With every step I make, there’s a steady crunch of leaves beneath my feet, and I can heart your heartbeat growing louder and louder. Even you can tell I’m close, and that only makes the thrill rushing through my own veins that much stronger. Once I catch you, I’m dragging your ass back to that cabin and having my way with you. There’s no escaping the monster lurking in these woods. He belongs to you, and he always will.

Oh, you cleaver little minx…

You purposely threw me off with your scent. You left a little gift for me to find, and at the giggle I can hear drifting through the air, I can still tell you’re close. Only now, I’m not holding back. My Baby is walking around these dark, cold woods without a shirt on. I can’t let you weather the elements like that alone. What type of beast would I be if I let My Girl get cold?

Your playfulness might just be your downfall.

I’m coming for you, Baby Girl. You ain’t seen nothing, yet.

Alright, then…

Ready or not, here I come…

Every sense I have is honed in on you. Your scent, your breathing, your heartbeat. I can feel you surrounding me, and even I can tell my eyes are getting darker with each passing moment. The beast is lurking beneath the surface, just waiting to come out. I can practically taste the desire and excitement rolling off of you, and it only makes me move faster.

I need to get to you. Now.

Low growls escape me, my teeth sharpening into fangs as my claws extend. I know you can hear me using the trees to propel myself towards you, leaving my marks on them just as I’m going to leave my marks all over you.

My eyes scan the woods frantically, low snarls escaping me with every breath. I can hear you. I can smell you right in front of me, yet you’re not-

My breath hitches, and I look up, a wild grin pulling at my features as pride swells in my chest.

Clever girl.

Have I ever told you that I love it when I make your heart skip a beat? You seem to enjoy it when I grin like this, but I never thought I’d get this type of reaction from you. Perhaps I should do it more often… There truly is no greater feeling than knowing the effect I have on you.

That’s it, Baby Girl, let me hear your heart race as you attempt to climb further up the tree you’re in. It’s cute that you think you can escape me now.

It takes me no time at all to race up the tree, appearing right in front of you in the blink of an eye. The way your breath hitches is music to my ears. And that spike of arousal? Divine.

I’ve got you now.

Struggle all you want, I’m never letting you go. Though, it’s quite amusing to feel you attempt to break free from my hold, even as I jump down from the tree. I always told you that I could easily carry you if I wanted to, and getting to prove that fact now only makes this moment that much more sweeter. Your body was made for me, and mine for you. See how well we fit together?

The warmth of your skin against my shoulder only makes my own heart race that much faster. Fuck, Baby- you said anything goes, but just being able to hold your ass in my hand as I carry you towards the best fucking night of our lives is making my head spin. Always so plush and soft… 

Can’t wait to have my hands all over you… 

You’ve already made me so fucking hard from all the thoughts about what I’m going to do to you. From your intoxicating scent that surrounds me, I can already tell you’re fucking dripping, too.

Do you like the fact that I’ve been stalking you around these woods without a shirt on, letting you see all of me as I hunt you down like the precious little prey you are? Do you feel the electricity between us as your bare skin touches mine? Can you feel the way you make my own heart race, aching for you inside my chest? Everything I am, everything I do… Do you know that it’s all for you? That I’ve always been all for you?

No matter. Tonight, I’ll show you. There’s not an inch of this plush body that will go untouched by me. Lips, hands, cock, tongue… everything I am is yours tonight, Baby. You’re mine, just as I am yours.

That’s it, Baby Girl, go ahead and whimper my name like that all you want. Beg for me… It’ll only makes the beast inside that much more desperate to claim you. I’ve kept him at bay while the chase was on, but as soon as we step through that cabin door, you’ll see a whole new side of me. 

I would never hurt you, though. Even I have my limits. That being said, I’m not finished tonight until you’re either begging me to stop, or you pass out from the pleasure of it all. 

Finally, the beast is going to claim his prize.

It’s you. It will forever and always be you.

[enamouredfae]

little astro observations i've made based on my little chart collection and experience 🎀

honestly i've observed this only in myself but you have a natural pull to people who's sun is the same sign as your 5th house, mine is in pisces and my bf, my best friend and my cat are all pisces, not to mention that 90% of my crushes have been pisces as well.

there is something about pisces and bunnies, they will either love bunnies (have tattoos of them, make art about them, be their favourite animal), own or have owned a bunny or they look like one, (my bf is all of the above).

in synastry a north node over a person's mars may indicate the north node person taking the mars person's virginity.

in synastry a person's moon in your 9th house may indicate they understand/feel/empathize with emotions in a different way from you due to where they come from and how they were culturally socialized, i have this with my bf and he comes from a north american individualist country where your emotions are your responsibility and other's are theirs and i come from a post communist country where you are responsible for everyone's emotions, and ppl live for other people.

in vedic astrology i am a hasta moon, claire nakti made a video on hasta nakshatra and describes hasta natives as "fairy pretty" and i have a pair of dragonfly fairy wings tattooed on my back, plus ive been told (before my tattoo) that i give off fairy vibes.

saturn ruled 3rd house makes you have to spend a lot of time in public transportation, for example you might live far from where you need to go, for me it used to take me 1 hour at least to get to some places, sometimes i'd have to wait an hour just to then spend on hour on the bus. just overall imposes patience for transportation

a lot of astro observation posts say that an aquarius 4th house makes you feel like u dont belong in your family or that you're the black sheep of the family, but i dont find that accurate at all, i feel like it makes the native the one to challenge family values, they may be the one to make their family change for humanitarian reasons

idk if this is a real technique already used by astrologers but i have a wholesign MC theory. in wholesign the midheaven can fall in the 9th/10th or 11th house. my theory is that wherever it falls is the way you get ahead in life, the way through which u become publicly known or get your career. If it falls in the 9th your career is owed to ur studies/travel, 10th your hard work/experience/reputation, 11th your connections/social media/friends.

i think i have the most literal astrological placements being passed down from your parents example. obviously placements dont always get passed down, my sister has none of their placements, but perhaps being the first child may have contributed to this since the first child is when parents still have their personality not yet influenced by parenthood. so my moon and my sun, which we know symbolize the parents amongst other things, are at the same degree and they sextile eachother exactly, which I think is an indicator that my parents are very harmonious together; they are still together and in love even now. furthermore, my moon and sun are the same signs of my parents' stelliums, i have a libra moon and my mom has a libra stellium, and my sun is in leo and my dad has a leo stellium.

sibling's ceres in your first is feeling like a parent to them, i constantly tell my sister she's my daughter, we even have an inside joke that i gave birth to her at 5, and my ceres is in her fourth, the house of motherhood so she definitely sees me as a parental figure.

me and my bf have eachother's jupiter in our 7th houses, besides being in a serious committed relationship, we want to start a business together. so i feel this is a great indicator for great partnership in both regards.

i feel like this is also a technique but i haven't really heard much about it, generational planets affect us through societal conditions/problems whereas personal planets affect us through personal problems. for example: let's go with two malefics, i have pluto in the first house which i feel would be very different from having let's say mars in the first house. the first house is amongst many things our appearance which i am insecure about. i have never in my life been told i am ugly, i am actually constantly told i am beautiful, and yet it does not click. it isn't through personal experiences that i have problems with my appearance but through consumption of society ideals. this is of course an oversimplification but you get what i mean.

chiron retrograde in natal changes our perception on trauma. me and my bf have the same chiron, his is retrograde while mine is not. he constantly says he is not traumatized, whereas i can tell i am. he 100% has traumas, the thing is that it's like he's left them behind? he just says it happened a long time ago so it's done. my observation is that retrogrades in your natal may make u leave things in the past or have a "it happened a long time ago it doesn't matter" attitude towards trauma. the thing is he acts like a non-traumatized person which is crazy to me.

i have a skin condition called dermatographia, also overall very dry itchy acne prone skin, i also have scars. here are a few placements that i have that i feel may be an indicator for skin conditions: mars ruled first house (traditional rulership) mars is inflamation and scarring, saturn in seventh saturn is dry and some people consider that libra(7th house) rules the skin, saturn opposite ascendant, saturn square venus i see venus as clear skin due to its aesthetical perfection.

saturn in 1st, especially conjunct ascendant indicates identity issues. borrowing elements of identity from people you admire, not feeling like you identify with the gender assigned at birth, not identifying with your birth name, etc.

having a libra 12th house can indicate traumatic female friendship. the 12th house is the house of hidden enemies, so you perceive these people as your friends, sometimes even best friends, so when they betray you it is very jarring and traumatic. having female friends that are jealous of you, female friends that pretend to like you, female friends that talk shit about you and even sometimes lie about u, friends that purposefully hide information from you, that want what you have, sometimes sabotaging what you have or trying to make u lose the thing they want, etc. this is a very difficult placement, because you love these people so much that you would've given up things, changed things or shared things with them if only they were honest with you. in the best of cases the friendship is real and full of love but you grow apart, and this is also painful because you can't control it.

venus square ascendant is people telling you they love you and you not believing them. just overall hardships around love and seeing yourself as loveable. double points when it also squares saturn making u think that if u are loved it's hard work or that people had to convince themselves to, that you're hard to love.

people with venus conjunct mars in first are stunning and have an androgynous vibe to them. sometimes this is visual, strong muscular body with graceful posture, but it can reflect in their personality, just strength imbued with vulnerability, people that surprise you, that are balanced.

taurus 6th house can indicate finding romantic partners in the workplace.

having a stellium in the 4th and no planets in the 10th, can indicate a strong connection to your mom and a disconnect from your dad, especially when the sun is in the opposite sign of your tenth house(in your 4th) feeling like your dad is not the way he should be.

🎀

please let me know what you think, im very curious how they hold up in other people's charts, critiques are welcome and invited.

[steviewashere]

Make a Home Out of Hurt

Rating: General CW: Death of a Grandparent, Mourning Tags: Post-Season 4, Post Canon, Grief/Mourning, Established Relationship, Alternate Universe — Future Fic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Sad Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Absent Parents, Steve Harrington Mom is Okay, Steve Harrington's Dad is an Asshole, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Moving in Together

Had an evil little thought. Also, all these Fenton bunnies I mention are real! My nana collects Fenton. (She's alive, don't worry, but I thought about her the other day and it spiraled into this.)

🏡—————🏡 We’ve already seen this neighborhood, Eddie thinks, but won’t say.

Even though they have. They’ve driven by the same three houses. Yellow, pastel pink, and navy blue. White door, white door, brown door. Bushes and bushes and a bushel of red roses. One garage, no garage, no garage but large driveway. He’s seen them. Over and over and over.

And each time they pass the last one, the leather of the steering wheel squeaks. And each time, Steve makes a muffled sort of noise. And each time, Eddie wonders if resting his hand on Steve’s shaking shoulders would anger him or mellow him. And each time, the car gets just a little slower as Steve loses his control more and more.

We’ve already seen this neighborhood, Eddie continues to think, but knows he’ll sit here with those words. He’ll sit in the passenger seat. Window cranked as far down as it’ll go—half-way since Dustin busted the actual mechanism. Beemer’s been through a lot, so it’ll be here for Steve’s end all breakdown, too. With the radio volume low, playing the same double-sided tape on repeat, flipped by Eddie because Steve’s hands have been shaking: The World We Knew by Frank Sinatra. Because it was her favorite. Nana’s favorite. Nana Harrington’s favorite.

On the fifth drive through, Steve finally parks the car. At the end of the long, slow winding driveway. He looks out the windshield, hollowed and not quite here. With limp hands in his lap. Messy, greasy hair he couldn’t bother to style. Eye bags so heavy, Eddie barely believes he can hold them on his face.

Eddie can follow his line of sight. To the edge of the white picket fence, worn down a little with age, scratched up from the curled nails of an old brown dog, carved with her son and daughter-in-law’s initials, and eventually stained with yellow handprints from baby Steve. Yellow because, as Steve has echoed, “Lello, Nana. Lello like your dress. Your favorite!” Well, Steve’s favorite too, he just won’t acknowledge it’s because of his nana. Eddie knows that the paint has faded a bit since then, given that it’s been fifteen years since Steve’s had hands that small, but Eddie can see him. In his little white and red striped t-shirt, hidden by a pair of nicely pressed denim overalls, white sneakers, and his mom’s bobby pins in his hair—something she did because it just wouldn’t stop growing so fast and thick. Or so Eddie’s been told.

He’s been told a lot in the last week. Since the call came through the landline of their apartment. Since Steve had gone silent and collapsed to his knees and wailed, screamed even. Since he dressed himself in a suit that fit well, but looked out of place on his curled in body. Since…since the obituary was finally in his hands at the funeral, and he got so sick in the church’s restroom, Eddie had to drive them home in a daze—a quarter worried, a quarter tired, and half hanging by a thread. He thinks he’s heard everything, but what is love if not more than everything? If not all the words in every language, all known objects and unknown, every species and race and sexuality and identities combined?

He’ll hear everything. Until their old and grey and forgetting everything.

“There used to be a tire swing on that tree,” Steve states flatly, pointing at the weeping oak in his nana’s front yard. It’s crooked like it’s been kissed by the wind. A lot withering because the weather’s been harsh on her. Grey against the navy blue of the house’s siding.

I know, sweetheart, Eddie wants to say, so soft it gets lost between them. Instead, “Yeah? Bet it was a good tire, too,” he coaxes, still soft, all sweet. Even if he’s heard it each time they’ve passed by.

Steve nods once in his peripheral. Sniffs. “Yeah,” he states wetly, “one of the expensive ones. She didn’t want it to pop under me. Didn’t…She didn’t want me to stop using it.” His head dips down, looking at his fingers, where they’ve begun to absently trace the seams of his jeans. “I stopped,” he whispers shamefully. “You think she got mad because I stopped?”

“No, baby,” Eddie answers honestly. “I think that she was happy you used it at all. Think she was always just happy to see you, Steve.”

A sharp intake of breath next to him. “I used to come over here when my parents were gone. Or when they’d scream at each other. Or when…when they’d forget I existed,” he relays, quiet as a mouse. “When they’d forget, Nana would open the door and kiss my cheek and make me something to eat. I was always too skinny. So she made me casseroles,” he explains, a wisp of a smile. Gone in the blink of an eye. “She’ll never make ‘em again, though. She won’t—”

“Steve,” Eddie calls gently, a small warning. A siren before the tsunami. 

“—Love me again,” Steve sobs, “Nana won’t love me again.”

“Oh, baby,” he breathes. Eddie steps out of the car, rounds over to the driver’s side, and yanks the door open. Carefully, he unbuckles Steve, scoots him so that his legs dangle over the side, and pulls him down into a gentle hug. “Baby,” he coos. “Just get it out, honey. I’m right here. We’re right here. I’ve got you.”

And Steve cries. Again; though Eddie’s lost count. He squirms against Eddie’s chest. Head nestled to his neck. Crying big sounds that sound too large, even for his adult body. Sounds that carry boats, that poison with oil spills, that home orcas. He slobbers onto Eddie’s skin, grand globs of hot spit that gargle in his throat before launching from his mouth. His unshaved stubble scratching at the side of Eddie’s face—where his skin is sensitive and smooth and will most definitely be raw with Steve’s aching.

He sobs until there’s no more tears. Until he’s a whimpering, shivering mess on Eddie’s chest. Bunched up and small and fisting Eddie’s t-shirt like a lifeline. Squeezing the fabric in his hands like two lemons.

Eddie runs his hands up and down Steve’s spine. From the small of his back to his hunched shoulders, squishing him. He sways them ever so gently like the rustle of the old oak tree. Hums something incoherent and unrecognizable. If only to get Steve to stop shaking.

“Eds?”

“Hm?”

He takes a long, slow breath. Breathes out, “Why’d she give me the house?”

Eddie pulls them apart. One hand on the middle of Steve’s back, the other cupping his left cheek. Swiping at the tacky tracks from his tears. “I’m not sure, baby. Maybe she loved you so much that she wanted you to have it? To always be safe there?”

“Shouldn’t she have given it to my dad? I don’t…” Steve’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion, his mouth frowning. “I don’t deserve her house?”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie sighs. “She chose you for a reason. You, Stevie. Not anybody else. Just you. If she wanted to give it to her son, she would’ve. But she didn’t. She thought of you, put you in the will, and now it’s yours.” When Steve doesn’t respond, Eddie gives him his moment of silence. Running his palm up to Steve’s shoulders. Pressing his thumb into his supple skin. “You may never know her intent, but she probably had a reason. It was a home you came running to, where you felt safest, where you felt…loved. Grandmothers always have this air to them, like they just know things about you before you say ‘em. Maybe she just knew you needed her and her space before you even realized.”

Steve sniffles. His eyes are still wet. Bloodshot and tired. Rumpled all the way around, exhausted and quiet. “She used to play with me in the yard.”

I know, Eddie thinks once more. He goes with the topic change though, if that’s what Steve needs.

“And when we played hide and seek, she always made sure to look until I was found. Because she didn’t want me to feel forgotten, her words.” Steve’s fingers are fidgeting with one another again. Picking at his fingernails, peeling at hangnails. Eddie moves down and takes them, rubbing soothing circles into their backs, just so Steve doesn’t harm himself on top of everything. Steve continues, hushed, “When I’d stay the night, she would sleep with me. Hold me close to her. Scratch my back and scalp and tell me stories…all the way until I fell asleep.”

“Kinda like I do, huh?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Think that’s why I feel so loved and safe with you.”

And Eddie hasn’t cried, not really, not yet. But this may be it. Because he knows, beyond everything, that Nana was special to Steve—so special that just one negative comment, one complaint, one little fuss about her was enough to get you shunned by him. He’s seen it play out with Dustin, he’d been banned from coming over for two weeks. And with El, who didn’t understand quite yet, but had lost conversational abilities with Steve for two whole days—ergo, the Silent Treatment.

This means something. It means everything. Eddie kind of wants to cry about it.

But he reigns himself in for now. Because Steve needs him like water. For somebody to just be there and be present and be patient. Through it all.

“You wanna head inside,” Eddie offers, “I’ve got the key in my pocket.” He gestures loosely to the inside of his vest, the safest pocket near his heart. When Steve nods, Eddie leads them inside silently. Opens the door first, per request made by Steve days prior. Sets his shoes by the front door—not told to, but just out of respect. Hangs up his jacket, his vest. Takes Steve’s jacket, too. Unties his Nike sneakers. Smacks a quick kiss to his cheek. And then he waits by the front door for Steve to say or do something.

The first thing he does is gasp. Eyes roaming the hallway, the living room, and the fireplace that connects the kitchen and living space together. He takes a few tentative steps before stopping in front of a tall, full China cabinet.

“Her Fenton bunnies,” Steve breathes.

Eddie slowly approaches behind him. Wraps an arm around his waist, tugging him into his side a little. “Are these the ones your mom was talking about on the phone?”

“Yeah. I just…Didn’t think my mom was telling the truth,” Steve murmurs. “She told me Dad didn’t want these. Takes up room or whatever. But they’re so pretty here, how could you not want these?” His left hand reaches for the knob of the cabinet. Twisting it gently as to not rattle the glass shelves. With the doors swung open, the bunnies under the cabinet’s lighting are free to touch. And so Steve picks one up, carefully in his hands like it’s alive. Maybe it is, Eddie thinks for a moment, alive with her spirit.

He breathes silently by Steve as he investigates the glass item in his hand. Running his thumbs over the ears. Down the smooth back.

“Satin glass,” Steve states, “It’s like touching the fabric, which is so weird. Nana used to talk about it all the time, but I never believed her. She never let me touch. You wanna?” He holds the bunny up to Eddie’s face. In offering, for him to pet. So he runs a slow thumb down its back. And sure enough, soft as silk, cold to the touch. “All of them are here.” He replaces the silk, purple bunny on the shelf. Picking up a chromatic shifting one next. “Carnival glass,” Steve explains, “it’s heavier than the other one, feels like. But so shiny. Think Nana used to say it was amethyst or something, but that might be what the color shift is called?”

“You sure listened to her well,” Eddie murmurs, “know a lot about this.”

Steve chuckles, a little choked to Eddie’s ears but he makes no comment. “Yeah, I guess I did. Mom used to say that I had selective hearing. That I listened when it was something I cared about.”

“And you cared a lot about Nana,” Eddie concludes.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers, “cared a lot about Nana.” He sets the carnival glass bunny back on the shelf. Standing idle in front of it all, taking it all in. “She has one upstairs, in a different glass cabinet. It glows green under the special blacklight upstairs. Said it was radioactive.” He chuckles again. “I gave her that one. As a gift for Mother’s Day in…I think ’77? Mom helped me pick it out—she was nice about the bunnies, about finding this stuff. She loved Nana, too. And she…” He laughs low in his chest and Eddie blossoms a little at the sound, unheard in so long. “Mom would pull out the long box of tissue paper and gift bags from the crawlspace. She’d unfold the prettiest gift bag—this one was a little brown one, covered in peach colored peonies. Stuffed some off-white tissue paper in that one. Wrapped the little yellow—well, it was supposed to be yellow—Fenton bunny in bubble wrap, covered it up with a bunch of caramels. Gave it to Nana, and she squealed! Apparently, she already knew it was radioactive? Thought it was the best gift ever. Which, ouch Nana, I gave you other bunnies for Mother’s Day, c’mon.”

Eddie snorts. “Maybe that’s what earned you the house? That radioactive bunny was probably the key to her heart,” he jokes. Though his stomach turns at the possibility it wasn’t appropriate to make.

Steve laughs loudly, though. Shaking his entire body with it. He slips his hand into Eddie’s back right pocket, sighs, and leans against him relaxed. “Dad should’a tried harder if he wanted Nana’s heart,” he comments, “all it took was a damn bunny.”

“Among other things, I’m sure.”

“Probably,” Steve sighs. “I think she was just excited to have a grandkid. She had a weird relationship with my dad. They didn’t get along very well. So maybe she was sorta…trying again?”

“Stevie, I think she just loved you. There doesn’t have to be some grand, deep meaning behind it. I think she just loved your company. How your laugh fills a room and your smile is seen from across the yard. And how you’re always polite, despite having reasons to not be. Maybe because of your terrible puns and how awful you are at quoting Shakespeare? You charm everybody, Steve,” Eddie monologues. “There’s not a reason to not love you.”

For a moment, the room falls completely silent. Distantly, there’s the slow tick of a wall clock. A few birds singing out in the backyard, where the bird bath probably is—only known through Steve’s memories. A slight hum from the radiator. The cars passing by on the main road just around the corner. Hawkins is quiet when there’s mourning; maybe it’s felt through the whole town, through the soles of Steve’s socked feet, from the beating of his ever love absorbent heart.

She died November 7th, 1993. Just a few days ago. Maybe it’s the anniversary of Will Byers going missing that Hawkins is feeling. Maybe it’s just tragedy. It’s love persevering—even in the most dire of situations. Where Joyce Byers was screaming about where her son may be, all those mismatched theories, and the ways in which the town thought she was crazy—even when they believed her and cried over her son’s body being pulled from the water. Where Will is actually thriving now. Where Sandra Harrington no longer is, though she was a fixture in several communities and families, Steve’s own being included.

“How’s your boy doing?” Wayne asked the day after her funeral. Eddie had shrugged, admitting he wasn’t sure because Steve had gone terribly quiet and sick. “Tell him I’m sorry. That he has a home with us. That he can come over and cry and I’ll make him hot cocoa. Alright, Ed?”

God, even Wayne knew. And there was silence after his condolences.

There is so much silence.

Until, finally, Steve asks, “Will you live with me here?”

“Wh—What?” Because surely he didn’t hear that right.

“Live with me here,” Steve repeats, a little more urgent. “I don’t think I can handle this place alone. And…I know how to use her gas stove. I can make you the spaghetti dish she used to make. And the casseroles she used to bake. We can open up her recipe box and I’ll teach you how to make her apple pie—the one she gave me for your birthday two years ago?

“And we can read your Lord of The Rings books on the porch on the bench she has out there? Grill in the backyard when we have everybody over. Robin can have the room that used to be my nursery. We can…We can live our lives here.”

Stunned, Eddie gapes momentarily. Before gripping harder at Steve’s waist, drawing him closer even when there’s no more room. Two solid bodies connected from shoulder to foot. “Are you sure, Steve? You don’t wanna—“

“You’re my family, Eds. I have loved you since that bullshit in ’86. We have seen each other through our absolute worst. Of course I’m sure. Of course I want you here,” Steve swears. “I know what I’m getting into. Even if it hurts to look around here right now. But you’ve been here by me through one of the worst heartbreaks I’ve ever experienced. I want you here—preferably always.”

“Stevie,” Eddie breathes. He reaches out with his free hand and cups the right side of Steve’s face. Swipes over his glistening cheekbone. Under his shadow beaten eye. The tickling brush of Steve’s bottom eyelashes on the tip of his thumb. And he kisses him tenderly, with every word he could ever imagine to say, all emotion he could ever feel, with an intensity seen in atomic bombs. He pulls back to see Steve’s eyes closed. Flushed and bright in the cabinet’s full white lighting, doors still open, and fragile glass bunnies as witnesses. Promises, “I want to, Steve. I want to be here with you. Through it. All of it. As long as I get to love you.”

And on his thumb there are fresh tears, gone cold but skin scalding. Steve’s lips trembling with silent cries. His eyelashes fluttering. Him and him and him. Beautiful and raw and open. Gentle like flowers and strong like wind. Aching and romantic and with a heart the size of the universe itself. Because Steve Harrington is everything—

Or so his nana has said. But Steve doesn’t know. And that’s Eddie’s own secret.

“Okay,” Steve mutters, “make a home with me, Ed.”

🏡—————🏡

[cheri-2047]

I have a request for, Zhongli Neuvillette and Ayato so they are forced to marry a reader, who looks a mess like their appearance and they aren't really into them. I hope I explained it properly it's hard for me at times and I got the idea when I saw some mobile game ad.

i think I know this ad LMAO, sure !! I’ll make it headcanons though cause those have been easier for me to write lately. thank you for the request!

Arranged Marriage (Zhongli , Neuvillette, Ayato)

SCENARIO: Your parents somehow got to get you an arranged marriage with these men. You grew up in a rich family, but due to a bad decision, your father’s company ended up going bankrupt. Suddenly, your mom just told you to get into the car and drove off, not knowing where you were going.

MENTIONS OF: Furina, Thoma, Ayaka

NEUVILLETTE:

When you enter the court (please tell me where he works guys in the comments, I forgot what it’s called), that’s when you realized.

“shit.”

This is the first time you’ve actually SEEN him. You felt embarrassed because your mother didn’t even let you change out of a decent pair of clothing or even fix your hair.

you quickly tried to change your appearance as much as you could. But when the Melisune opened the door, that’s when you panicked.

Neuvillette was…shocked. He was shocked to see you in a state but he didn’t show it. “Ah..I suppose you’re y/n?”

“yes… I apologize for my appearance, My mother pulled me out of my room and just forced me to leave without a word haha…” you were nervous as hell.

”I see. Nice to meet you.” He stands up and walks over to you, shaking your hand.

”I’d like to go over the terms of our marriage, nothing official just what we both are comfortable with.” Even with your messy appearance, he still treated you with grace and kindness

he asked the melusine to give you some tea, and now you Two were left alone.

”Well…I understand if you don’t want to do this at all, so during our relationship, I will not require you to be affectionate towards me.”

He sat in a chair nearby and he held your hand. “If there’s anything I am doing, or will do that makes you uncomfortable, please do not hesitate to tell me.”

“If you need anything, just say the word and I’ll have to for you.”

“if you would have…other affairs, since were not actually in love…I’m okay with it. Just be careful to not show it in public.” He understands that this is a forced marriage for you, so he tries to still let you have a normal life.

“ah no it’s okay, I’m not interested in anyone at the moment, but I…I would like to try to get this- us to work.” You smiled, and Neuvillette was touched by that.

During your marriage, you lived with him. He wasn’t extremely close to you but you could tell he was trying. On the first night you two slept beside each other but on the next one if you were uncomfy, he arranged another room for you in his mansion.

He lets you do anything really, if you want to work go ahead but if you just want to stay home that’s okay too.

Overall, he grew to like you. And the marriage was like a real thing.

Since he wouldn’t be home often, he apologizes by sending you gifts. When he notices you’re lonely, furina actually lets him have a day off.

as for affection, at most he would kiss you on the forehead or cuddle you close. He won’t force you to kiss him on the lips (since he doesn’t want to intrude on anything) so you’d have to initiate those <3

AYATO:

When you saw your car drop in front of the kamisato, that’s when you realized.

You tried to fix your appearance, tying your hair up with a desperate attempt to look more elegant.

thoma welcomed you, not gonna lie he noticed how you shuffled your clothes a lot and before taking you to ayato, he let you in a separate room.

”I don’t mean to be rude, but I noticed the way you shuffled with your clothes” he chuckled, handing you an old dress that ayaka owned, (since it didn’t fit her)

he let you changed and once you did, he brought you to ayato.

Ayato welcomed you and thoma left the room. He motioned for you to sit in front of him.

”nice to meet you” he smiled and bowed (iirc in japan they bow as a sign of respect/greeting? Please correct me if I’m wrong!)

you did the same. It was awkward for awhile until he spoke.

”I am sure you’re aware of what’s about to happen correct?” You nod. “I want to try to make this work” he said, looking straight at you.

”if… if we don’t work out that’s alright, but I’d like to know you more.” He smiled as you nodded.

”me too, I’m glad we’re on the same page” you smiled.

you two talked about your own interests, but now you had a problem.

its not that he hated you or judged you, but there are times it’s dead silent. for now he passes it off since you both are new to each other.

”well, I will have thoma show you your room and ah- no more need for formalities it’s okay”

After the marriage you move in together and though it’s still awkward, you two actually end up becoming close.

At some point, during the night when he’s working late, he actually started seeking comfort from you.

sometimes he would visit your room, if you were asleep he would sit beside you on the bed and tuck you in nicely after

or if you’re awake, you (aside from ayaka sometimes) are one of the only few who actually gets him to go to bed.

you sleep in separate rooms but one day he offers for you to sleep with him.

overall, this marriage was a success. Sometimes he’s busy but you take note of it and if he notices you’re lonely, he would invite you over to his room while he works/signs papers and he talks to you.

as for affection, he appreciates if you give him hugs but there are times (mostly when you’re away for a long period of time) when he tilts your chin up and goes “may I?” Before pressing a kiss to your lips

Sorry if I mischaracterized this, I haven’t done the inazuma quest and idk much about him !

ZHONGLI:

to your surprise, when you almost stopped in a mansion, you saw him standing outside waiting for you.

and that’s when you started to realize.

the moment you got out of the car, you fixed your dress. He was quite welcoming actually.

he welcomed you to his home and set you on the couch. He actually didn’t mind much your appearance.

he sat in front of you and smiled. “Nice to meet you” he handed you a cup of tea before you two got started.

he saw you uncomfortable shuffling around your clothes. “Are you alright? Is something wrong?”

”no no! Just fixing myself a bit, sorry” he wondered why you seemed so tense about your appearance.

”I do not care about such matters if that’s what you’re thinking” he reassured you.

”now..as for this marriage, I do not want you to feel forced. I will allow anything you’d like, if you’d have other affairs, I am okay with that.” He really just wants you to be comfy is all, especially since this was forced.

”however… I would like to get to know you more” and just like that a few months after the marriage, you two actually clicked.

often at night he’d sleep beside you, in the mornings he makes you both tea.

He’d be very respectful with boundaries and he appreciates when you respect his as well.

for dates he loves bringing you to gardens for a picnic or relaxing lakes, somewhere with nature. he hugs you a lot and kisses on your forehead. If you want a kiss on his lips, he will gladly say yes anytime of the day

A/N: OKAY. I loved writing this, I enjoyed Neuvillette and Ayato’s part, I kinda lost ideas for zhongli but THERE WAS AN ATTEMPT. Anyways thank you for requesting, I only have… 2-3 requests left until I can open them again ! I love how thoma would also be a gentleman to you idk I think he’s pretty cool this wasn’t proofread and comments are appreciated !! (Drop by for a tip, or if I mischaracyerized them or just say hi!)

[deeply-unserious-fellow]

I've been seeing a lot of people talk about how Hazel is a boring protagonist(or I guess more like... people complaining about how other people are saying that? Idk I'm not on Twitter), and at first I kind of agreed with those takes because all I had seen were random clips. BUT, now that I've watched the show, I disagree. I don't think Hazel is a boring character, at least not conceptually. I think the issue is that the majority of her RELATIONSHIPS are really boring.

Hazel on her own has a lot of potential. She's caring, she's funny, she has a tendancy to overthink, her design is really good, she has realistic problems most people can relate to... she's just all around a really well built character. The problem is that almost none of the characters she interacts with consistently have any depth, and that causes her relationships with them to fall flat, which causes HER to fall flat because at the end of the day, a character is only as strong as their relationships with other characters. We're TOLD what her relationships with others are like, we're TOLD what the other characters' personality traits are, but we're never SHOWN those things. I think the episode where they deal with Jasmine's fears is probably the biggest offender. Jasmine herself acts as more of a plot device then anything else, with her fears being used as a stepping stone to teach HAZEL a lesson, rather then allowing the episode to focus on Jasmine overcoming those fears. The scene where Jasmine actually FACES those fears ends up being just thrown in at the end as a way to solve the conflict, which tbh wasn't that engaging in the first place because Hazel had no personal attatchment to any of Jasmine's fears... that's just kind of a bad episode overall tbh it's where all of the shows flaws are the most prominent but I DIGRESS-

Another really good example of the poor relationship building is her relationship with her brother, Antony, who we literally don't even get to SEE until well into the second half of the season. I haven't actually gotten to that episode yet, so I can't really judge Antony as a character, but I CAN judge how they've been setting him up so far! Which hasn't been very good! Instead of SHOWING US Hazel's relationship with him through flashbacks or something, the writers just have Hazel TELL US how she feels about her brother and things they used to do together. It just doesn't have the same impact as actually seeing their relationship play out would, y'know? They've been telling us about Hazel's relationships with other characters instead of showing us those relationships, and it's been hurting Hazel as a character.

The only relationships she has that we actually get to watch her BUILD are her relationship with Cosmo & Wanda and her relationship with Dev, which, while the ladder is genuinely really well done and interesting(aside from a couple pacing issues but honestly the show is chock full of those so whatever), the former ALSO falls really flat because Cosmo & Wanda aren't really... characters. They're iconic, sure, and they're really funny, but they're also mostly just plot devices. They're here to grant Hazel's wishes(aka cause the plot of the episode) and be funny. That's it. Which is fine, those kinds of characters obviously have their place, but when they're the only ones your main character consistently interacts with? That causes some problems. It's like if, in the movie Aladdin, instead of focusing mostly on the relationship between Aladdin and Jasmine, they focused entirely on his relationship with the Genie. The Genie is mostly just here to move the plot along and say funny things, so having him be the character Aladdin interacts with the MOST kind of breaks the movie. Having a story where almost all the interactions are between the main character and the comic relief just doesn't work.

Honestly I think the issues with Hazel's relationships are probably why people are more drawn to Dev as a character then they are to Hazel, because while Hazel almost exclusively interacts with characters who could be replaced by cardboard cutouts and nobody would tell the difference, Dev doesn't. Dev's relationships are a lot more engaging because all of the characters he interacts with are SIGNIFICANTLY more fleshed out then the ones Hazel interacts with. His relationship with Hazel is engaging because it's an emotional rollercoaster for both of them. His relationship with Peri is interesting because Peri is much newer to being a fairy godparent then Cosmo & Wanda are, meaning he's more likely to make mistakes. His relationship with his dad is interesting because it's literally the main motivation for his character, and we actually get to SEE WHY THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS THE WAY IT IS. His relationship with Irep is more interesting because Irep is a weird little shit who's mostly just using Dev to take over fairyworld, and he also has an interesting dynamic with Peri! Dev's relationships are all WAY better executed then Hazel's, and honestly I think a lot of that has to do with the fact that Dev is an antagonist who mostly interacts with other antagonists. He's at the center of almost every single ongoing conflict in the show, which is often times what makes a character and their relationships interesting: conflict. I also think he benefits from getting expanded on LATER in the show, since by that point all of the writers would've had a much better feel for all of the characters, making it easier for them to actually show what his relationships are like instead of outright telling us skgnvkdmfkekfndn

Now, was the point of all this to say that I think Dev would be a better protagonist then Hazel? No. Absolutely not no- he has a more interesting, better executed story then Hazel does so far, sure, but he just. Wouldn't be able to carry an episodic show like FOP on his own I'm sorry- we've seen the kind of wishes he makes, they're not particularly interesting. Because he's a rich kid who can do basically whatever he wants. Plus, his conflict with Peri just isn't really built to be stretched out over an entire season, which it would HAVE to be if Dev was the protagonist of a Fairly Oddparents, because the entire premise of the show is "this kid gets a Fairy Godparent, what kind of wacky hijinks will they get up to now?" Plus there's the fact that the narrative has been treating his parental neglect with a lot more gravity then Timmy's ever was, meaning if the show was from his perspective they'd have to tone down the things that make him interesting to keep the show from getting outright miserable- Dev is not a good character to make carry that kind of show. Dev should not be the main character. HOWEVER! Do I think the show would be more interesting if we got more episodes featuring him and Hazel hanging out together? Yes absolutely. They bounce off of eachother incredibly well, and once Peri is introduced we also get to see Peri's relationship with his parents and how THEY interact, and it's just. So much more interesting then seeing just Hazel and CosWan. Or Hazel's cardboard cutout friends. Honestly I'd go as far as to say he should've been Hazel's dueteragonist instead of just a recurring character, kinda like a(hopefully) better executed Chloe. It'd give Hazel a more interesting character to bounce off of then Cosmo & Wanda. Either that or I think Peri should've been Hazel's fairy godparent instead of Cosmo & Wanda, because he has more room to grow and develope as a character then they do, making his potential dynamic with Hazel a lot more interesting. Idk just in general I think having Hazel interact almost exclusively with Cosmo & Wanda was a mistake-

Also should be noted; I am saying this as someone who has never seen the original Fairly Oddparents. I don't know if the original show had these issues aswell or not, everything I know about the original comes from random YouTube videos I watched out of curiousity/boredom. Either way if the original DID have issues with Timmy's relationships being really boring then uh. That's not an excuse for A New Wish to do the same, I guess. Idk where I'm going with this... also sorry if this essay is incoherent! I have a lot of thoughts about how Hazel's relationships are really poorly executed and I just needed to get them out skfnvdkdjfndn- if you want me to elaborate on anything feel free to leave a comment or send me an ask :)

[mxqdii]

hey! i love love your work, and i was wondering if i could request a chris sturniolo x fem!reader?

maybe reader is also a well known influencer, or an actress or something of the sort, and there’s rumours about her and chris being together that they haven’t really confirmed?

but they are dating and she’s on live one day and he calls her like an intimate pet name, or just overall says something that shows they are in fact together and like the comments on the live just go crazy and stuff and shes like telling chris she’s on live or whatver

im so sorry if this doesnt make sense 🙏🙏

stop bc i requested pretty much this same thing to another author (on wattpad) a few months back, so when i read this request it was such an "i made it" moment (i love u sm, you're just like me fr fr)

baby - c.s

pairings: chris sturniolo x reader

summary: chris accidentally calls reader 'baby' while she's on live, revealing to the whole world that they're dating/

warning(s): fluff, reader calling chris bro 😔

not proofread

i'm sitting on the couch, watching tv, bored out of my mind.

then an idea hits me, i could go on live!

i used to go live a lot with the triplets, but only on their account, so it would be fun to go live on mine.

i open instagram and click the live button, watching the stream fill with thousands of people

"holy shit that's a lot of people" i say with a nervous laugh

"uhh i guess i'll answer any questions anyone has! so feel free to ask anything!" i add, smiling

i read through the comments, lots of them asking where the triplets are

i can't help but notice seeing a few asking if me and chris are dating.

fortunately, those allegations are true! but we've decided to keep it quiet for, just for now.

still, there’s only so much one can hide from the public

and although me and chris haven't said anything, i think everybody knows anyway.

people can see our glances, our gestures, how close we are, it's all pretty obvious.

i answer a few questions like my favorite singer, when my next video is coming out, podcast stuff with the triplets, and just some other various topics.

suddenly i hear the door unlock, looking over at it, but not really caring.

maybe i can get whichever triplet that is to join my live.

chris walks in and i smile in his direction

"hey baby" he says and my expression immediately drops.

i look at him, PALE.

(absolutely terrified to look back at the screen)

"what?" he says, walking closer, i turn my head to the screen, anticipating my death.

i let out a sigh of relief seeing the comments

@ssturniolo BABY???

@strniolo AWWWWWWWW

@lvrsparadise GOODBYE I LOVE THEM.

@ellieswifie this is such a chris and y/n mistake 😭

@lavieenvalentina i'm so happy for them i'll cry

(shoutout to everyone tagged ILY<;3)

as i'm reading the comments, i smile, chris hovering over me reading them too

suddenly he hugs me from behind, squeezing me tight

"chris!" i say laughing

"let me go bro" i whine

"you did not just call me bro" he says, immediately stopping

his death glare makes me laugh

"consider it payback for you calling me baby on live" i say laughing

(him clearly not amused)

"okay fine fine im sorry, guys it's all okay he's not my bro please let me redeem myself" i say joking on the last part

me and chris stay on live for another 30 minutes, answering questions about how we got together and just stuff about our relationship.

"bye guys we love you!!" i say, ending the live

i close out of insta, putting my phone down with an exhausted sigh

"so?" i mumble, anticipating chris's response

"so? so nothing" he say's with a smile and i face palm

"chris! we just told like, the world that we're dating" i laugh

"yeah, and i'm happy about it, like honestly i can't think of a better way it could've happened" he says

we both look at eachother and burst out laughing

"we're a little interesting thats for sure" i say

"i can't believe we tell the world we're dating ON ACCIDENT and then you start calling me bro" chris says, making me laugh harder

"i was nervous! im sorry!" i yell with my hands up in defense

"yeah yeah, it's fine" he says, wrapping his arms around me

"bro" he adds on

"chris i swear to god-"

TAGLIST:

@strniolo @stargirlv0id @annaisabookworm

[lullabyes22-blog]

hi <3

i am once again asking your thoughts on the latest act of arcane?

Honestly, my feelings on S2 so far are pretty mixed.

:')

On the one hand, visually, it's absolutely heartstopping. The cinematography is incredible, and it's the first time in a while where every episode felt like an experience I had to endure in a good way. Plus the score, the voice-acting, and the sound design is, as usual, top notch.

Buuuut when you have all these stellar spheres working on this show, it makes the areas where they drop the ball stand out.

For me, that's the plot.

Alot of folks have criticized the pacing and how there's too much piled into one season. Personally, at this point I've made peace with the breakneck speed and sort of taken it as a given in a series where 'War' is the overarching theme. I can even let go of the fact that certain plot beats don't feel earned, as there's so much subtlety and foreshadowing that you can easily make the case for them via long-drawn out analyses of every frame.

But the writing, ohhhh boy. The writing. It feels like there's a disconnect between the overall plot and the individual character moments.

It's really hard to articulate, but I'll do my best.

I love that we're getting so much characterization for the main cast. Every episode, it feels like there's a new layer peeled back, and each of our leads has an opportunity to shine.

And that's exactly the problem. They're all shining.

Separately.

When I think about it, the reason why S1 worked so well was because every episode gave us a glimpse into the mind of someone different. We got a taste of what it was like to be in the head of every major player in the cast, and through this, we grew to understand their motivations, their fears, their hopes. I've used the 'gem' analogy in previous reviews, and the way the show handled that concept was amazing. Every character was a facet of the gem that was Arcane, and each shift of PoV allowed us to see them from a new angle.

There was coherence. There was cohesion. And there was a sense of complexity told in a concise and well-planned format.

S2, for me, doesn't quite work the same way.

It's not that I don't understand the characters, or that I don't appreciate the way they're handled. It's just that their individual journeys are so self-contained. I'm not getting a sense of their interpersonal connections. More as if they're crashing into and out of each other's lives, without ever stopping to have a proper conversation.

It's a common complaint with ensemble casts, and I don't mind it for the most part, but the problem here is that Arcane has been very careful about establishing its characters as part of a cohesive whole. They're not just random individuals who happen to share a stage. They're siblings, lovers, colleagues, friends, enemies, etc. And the reason why we can relate to them is because, on some level, they mirror our own relationships. We've seen how they treat each other, and we've come to care about them.

But in this season, I feel like there's been a failure to communicate.

Scenes between characters feel like a series of disconnected vignettes, some of which are great and some of which are not so great. It's as if the writers are trying to force the characters to react to the plot rather than the other way around.

I don't want to be overly critical. So much love and effort has gone into making this show, and I'd never want to disparage the efforts of so many talented artists.

But, yeah. Coherence is a bit of an issue.

I will say, however, that re: the subject of grief, especially in Jinx's journey, this season has delivered some beautiful moments. It's a surprisingly nuanced treatment of a complicated and ugly emotion, and it's something I wish more shows would tackle. The problem with a lot of modern storytelling is that, because it's trying so hard to be edgy, complex and subversive, it doesn't really leave any room for just letting characters exist. And Jinx's arc in particular is a perfect example of this.

I was worried, going into the season, that they'd take the easy route and paint her as a pure monster, utterly deranged from her loss. That's what the fandom seems to want, anyway, and it's what you'd probably expect given the general climate.

But instead, the show has chosen for Jinx to be vulnerable, and to let her arc be honest. Granted, Isha, though she's adorable, still doesn't quite feel like a full-fleshed out person, but Jinx's bond with her has been written with such heartbreaking realism that I'm inclined to forgive the former for the sake of the latter. It's just refreshing to see the series not to take that insulting and reductive 'but Jinx is crazy' route, and instead allow her to grapple with the pain of losing her family and the horror of what she's done, but to also heal old wounds with brand-new connections.

'Crazy' does not mean 'irredeemable.'

And it's about time more mainstream media got this memo.

The series also continues to be stellar at showcasing so much with such restraint. A lot of the scenes don't last longer than a few minutes, and yet you can feel so much conveyed in that brief window. And the framing and composition is consistently masterful.

Overall, though, I'm a bit underwhelmed by this season so far. It feels like an incomplete masterpiece, and the sense that the narrative has lost control is starting to get overwhelming. We've still got Act 3 left, and I'm hoping the final stretch is able to tie things together a little more neatly.

Anyway, thank you for reading this mess! And feel free to share your thoughts as well. I'm curious to hear how other people are finding the series.

<3

[hamletteprinceofdenmark]

Transcript of Shelby's Video:

CW: Abuse

:readmore:

Hello! I don't know if you can even hear it, I put on, like, light jazz in the background because it seemed awkward being quiet, but I don't think you can hear it, so I'm just gonna turn it off. Um, hello! Um, welcome! We are in emote only because I'm just gonna be talking today, and then I'm gonna go! I'm gonna go!

Um, yeah, it was very, very low. There's, there's no need. I just, it felt weird leaving you in silence, but I'm here, so — Hello! Um, I want to talk about something today that, um, very nervous. I feel sweaty. I had a sweater on, I had to take it off. Um, I'm gonna try and just, I wrote down pretty much everything I think that I want to say to keep track of, sort of all the points that I want to make sure I don't forget anything. So I will be reading from something, um, a good portion of the time, but not 100 percent of the time. Um, and I just wanted to make sure I got all of my thoughts down in words ahead of time. I'm, I really like writing down my thoughts. So I did that.

Um, oh, hold on. Can I turn ads off? I think that maybe we turn ads off today. How do I make that happen for just today? Um. Shoulda had that already. I shoulda had that already. I actually don't even know how to make that happen. You know what? That's just gonna have to be that way. I'm so sorry.

Um. I'm all good. Um, yeah, okay. Today's just gonna be talking. Uh, I'm just gonna start reading from what I wrote, and go from there.

I have a really big coffee, I'm gonna take a swig. And I have my water, and I'm gonna take a swig of that.

I have always liked telling my different experiences that I've had, um, in dating because it feels important to me to share what I've learned and maybe help other people to not make the same mistakes that I have before. I'm 30. I've dated a lot. I've gone on a lot of dates. I keep trying, um, and it's unfortunate that a lot of my dating history, uh, there were a lot of bad people that tried to manipulate or control me, um, but that's not to say that every person that I've dated has treated me poorly. Um, some people just weren't the right people.

Um, and speaking out about my bad experiences has never felt as important as it does right now because silence has always brought me peace. And this time it feels like my silence is not keeping my peace. It's only keeping somebody else's peace. Um, and I never thought that I could be the kind of person to end up in a situation like I did. I'd never thought that could happen to me.

And so for me, this is important because it could help anybody else see the signs sooner than I did. Um, or hopefully avoid a similar situation entirely. Because the, the truth is it was dangerous. Um, there were a lot of things wrong in this relationship that, um, I endured some pretty terrible treatment. Um, and I might touch on some things here and there about that. But, um, if I feel like it's important to the overall context. But what I want to stay focused on is this specific issue, um, and the things that happened matter-of-factly and the things that people saw and witnessed in our circle.

Um, it took me 10 months after to heal. And I spoke with multiple therapists and tried different forms of therapy. Um, I tried somatic therapy. That one was actually really good for me. Um, because that one actually helped me release a lot of, um, built up anger I was having over the last year. Um, but the anger that I was feeling was for myself because, um, I felt like I should have known better.

I felt so stupid at myself for, um, sort of just staying through all of this. Um, and I shared my story with a lot of friends after I started talking to therapists and I was like "So, this thing happened ... and I wasn't really sure ... It just seems weird now to me looking back," and all of them told me exactly what was happening in the words that I was too afraid to use.

Um, and I was being hurt in my last relationship. And it took me all of that time to see it through that lens. Um, I even posted an anonymous story to Reddit that I have now deleted with an anonymous account. But in posting that, I found a dozen other stories that were exactly like mine, exactly the same way. Um, and all of the comments said exactly the same thing.

Um, and I was so mad at myself because I was lying to, um, at a certain point to protect this person, because I knew that if I told my friends the truth, it'd make him look really bad. Um, I didn't think that I would cry and I practiced saying all of this and I didn't cry, but it's easier to practice it when no one is listening.

Um, but he always cared more about how it looked and that was really important, not what was true. Um, and it was really subtle. When I hear about, um, when I hear about physical abuse, I think of hitting. I think of hitting and punching, um, so I thought that this wasn't violent enough, um, to be abuse. Uh, I thought that it was just like a constant accident that he kept hurting me. Um, but he's not hitting me and it didn't start as something that he did to hurt me.

Uh, he had this habit of biting, which is so weird to me now, but he said that he had had this habit since he was a kid. And even his mom said that that was true. And he said it was just affectionate and that that might have been — I mean, I think that that might have been true, maybe, at the start, but I also feel that I have good reason to believe that every part of it was a lie, but that's just my personal opinion, um, and I had no problem with just biting, that isn't even the most uncommon thing, um, but he did mention something early that I should have taken as a red flag, um, and he wanted to make sure that I was okay with him biting me because he didn't want me to come back later and say that he abused me. Which I thought was really weird considering he had never hurt me before. And so why would I call it abuse? And why was he thinking about that? And I thought he was being sweet, checking on me to make sure that I was still comfortable. Um, but of course I was because he hadn't hurt me. And why would I think he ever would?

Um, and then he did, for the first time, by accident, uh, and I don't specifically remember the actual first time that he bit me too hard by accident, because I didn't think that it would be significant, um, I thought that it would only happen once, and he started biting me more and more over a period of time, sort of throughout the whole relationship, and accidents of him biting too hard and really hurting me happened more and more frequently, um, but he always seemed genuinely sorry, and he decided that he didn't want to keep accidentally hurting me, um, so we were gonna use a safe word, um, so he could learn where my limit was, where my pain tolerance ended.

Uh, and saying that out loud now doesn't sound — Like, that's not very sound logic. Um, but at the time, I thought he cared about not hurting me. But in reality, it's like, why are you biting so hard? And why do you have to bite so hard? And it shouldn't be that hard of a problem to stop. Um, that shouldn't be that hard.

And he disguised it as this really quirky part of our relationship and was so comfortable sharing it with his friends to the point that he would do it in front of them. He thought it was this really funny story to tell and a good bit to take my arm and bite me in front of everybody until I literally shout in pain. Um, and then I have to laugh it off because I'm so embarrassed and I don't want to cause a scene in front of all of our friends and I'm sure everyone was a little bit uncomfortable, but as long as I was saying that it was fine, nobody really felt like they needed to be concerned and that's not anybody's fault because I was lying. I was lying and it wasn't fine because I would go home later and I'd tell him how uncomfortable I was. How much I didn't like being hurt all the time and I needed him to really stop biting so hard. I didn't like it and I tried telling him over and over again because he wasn't actually trying at all to not hurt me, um, but he said he would try, at first, and then he started saying things like it was my pain tolerance that was too low, or I'm exaggerating how much it actually hurts. He's not even biting that hard. I'm, I'm being dramatic. Um, but his biting escalated to a point where I was covered in bruises all over my arms and they hurt and he would poke at them for fun. And he even felt so comfortable showing off my bruises that he had caused to our friends because he would bite me so hard by accident, "by accident." He would even joke that it looked like he abused me. Um, and eventually he did acknowledge how bad it looked that I was covered in bruises all the time. So he stopped, um, biting my arms as often. And he started biting my legs instead. Um, and it was in the last couple of months of the relationship that every time he bit me, it was until I needed to use this safe word. Um, it had become his benchmark for when to stop.

Only once I was definitely hurt, um, which meant I was being hurt every single day, um, multiple times a day, uh, for all of the days that we spent together in person. And when I asked him to stop again, this time he said, "This is who he is. He isn't going to change." Those were his words. And I remember a lot of, specifically his words about certain things, especially at the end.

Um, because I'm good at remembering words and especially his wording. I became really good at remembering because he was constantly contradicting himself. And I would notice, but most of the time it wasn't worth picking a fight over. And — But he would fight me on it sometimes 'cause I would po- I would point it out and, uh, he would insist that he had never said the thing that he said, he definitely did say. And then he would say something like, "How are you so sure you're remembering correctly? Why are you always right?" Um, and he definitely said the things that I heard him say and other people heard him say.

So, he had, now at this point, weaponized the safe word and was using it to ensure that I was hurt and on a constant basis. And he wasn't sorry anymore. Um, I couldn't even tell you the last time he had apologized for doing it anymore because now sometimes he would bite me and I would yell out the safe word because it hurts so bad and he'd clamp down even harder and, just for a second, just for good measure, before letting go and sometimes I'd say the safe word and he'd grind his teeth down on my skin and sometimes he'd smile after, um, like a gloating grin?

And during this time I was filled with so much anxiety all the time that I was constantly nauseous. Gagging daily, um, on occasion throwing up because of the pit that was in my stomach. I never told him about that though. I was going and running away quietly to throw up in the toilet and rejoin our group of friends.

Um, but I felt so unwanted and ignored. Um, and I would tell him that and then he would reassure me that he wanted to be together and he loved me. He loved me more than I loved him, even. He would always insist that that was true, like the, "I love you." "I love you more," but he was like, really serious about it.

Um, and looking back, I do believe that the way I was swept off my feet at the beginning of this relationship was 100 percent love bombing. Um, and we were friends for a time. Um, at least people would have thought that, actually, but I use the word friend very loosely because, um, we had actually never spoke to each other outside of group chats we were in together when, like a handful of times throughout the, the whole time that we knew each other, um, but did not talk to each other.

So I wouldn't have even called him my friend until he found out I was single, waited a few weeks to reach out, and then we started a friendship and then that friendship turned romantic and then he made these huge romantic gestures. He wrote me the most beautiful love letter that I had ever read. Um, he called me his soulmate. He talked about "forever" one month in. He told me he hadn't been in a relationship in five years. He thought he could never find love again before he met me. He said he wanted someone to grow with. He wanted to be a dad. He had all his names picked out and I didn't have a preference because I — My feeling of it is that the timing is right and with the right person, I could, um, but if that doesn't work out in time or the time, you know, I, I'm not super pressed about it. Um, but I started opening my mind up to the idea with him because it seemed so important to him. And I kept trying to talk to him to figure out where he was, later on, when I could tell things like, were declining.

And, um, now all of a sudden he's telling me he's not sure he wants kids at all. In fact, he has never been attached to the idea of kids. Um, and I told him that isn't what he said before, and he said he's allowed to change his mind. And I'm of the opinion that in a relationship, there are a few things that you are not actually allowed to change your mind without letting your partner know.

I think that kids is one of them. It wasn't even important to me. Um, and I think marriage is one of them, so I brought that up next. And I asked if he still wanted marriage. He said he wanted to marry me. And then he said, now, "I'm not the co-" quote, "I'm not the commitment guy. You know that."

I didn't know that.

Why are you dating me?

In fact, he was telling me the exact opposite every day. Uh, he would tell me he still wanted to be together. He wanted to work on all of the problems. He wanted to, like, he wanted me at the end of everything. He did not want to break up. He made that very clear. And uh, I have though, caught him in lies before, but usually it was small stuff and I, again, I didn't want to, it wasn't anything that ever seemed worth rocking the boat over, uh, which isn't normal for me.

I hate lies. Um, and yet I ended up lying for him. So, uh, but he had lied about big things and he had also been caught lying by his friends numerous times. So this is something that he feels is acceptable to do. And everything reached a breaking point when he was about to leave for an extended period of time.

We were not going to see each other very much, a few days out of every few months, um, and now suddenly he is dumping all of these problems that he has been having feelings about all of this time later. Um, at one point he said he's been feeling this way a couple of months. At another point, he says he's been feeling this way for six months, immediately contradicting him- contradicting himself in the same conversation.

And with no time to do anything about it. I arrived — the one of — Never mind. I'm gonna get to something later, but I literally arrived for three days for this conversation to happen and then leave. Um, my cat just woke up and she's not usually awake right now — Hi, my love. It's really close to her dinner time. I should have fed her early.

Um, so no time to fix any of the problems all the sudden because there are three days before he leaves and he insisted he did not want to break up. He, and so, he was expecting me to have a solution somehow, magically, and I gave a number of solutions that would have a way forward for us to be together, but he refused to make any compromise, um, whatsoever.

And he said that "the relationship was starting to feel like a responsibility," towards the end. Also his words. Um, so it wasn't a responsibility the whole rest of the time to him. And he was at this point, basically flaunting that he would never prioritize me over anything. Um — she's eating my laundry. Please don't cause problems. — Um, and I wasn't even asking for literally even the bare minimum. I was asking for so little and he — I was watching him give exactly what I was needing in the relationship all over the place to anybody else who, who just happened to ask and just wasn't me. So, um, and he also, he was never going to prioritize me over anything that would give him more fame or money.

In fact, he said that himself. He, uh, that was exactly why he was not going to compromise at all for a solution for us to be together. Because he said he wanted to see how much fame and money he could get. Um, and I just thought we wanted to be together. I thought that's what we both wanted, because that's what he was still saying he wanted to.

Um, but then he also admitted to me that he had grown resent- uh, he had grown to resent me. And I have to be thankful that he said that bit out loud. A lot of these bits he said out loud. Because that was the last push that I needed to get myself out.

He had grown resentful, which I also pointed out that there was no reason. Like, there was no reason to feel that way and he admitted that there was no reason for him to feel that way either. I think that it was because I'm someone who can communicate how I feel. Um, but, I don't know, I think, there, I have a lot of theories and reasons why I believe things happen the way that they did and why he was lying all of the time.

Um, but, he was "resentful" of me, was causing me physical harm every day, multiple times a day, despite me telling him over and over again to stop. He wasn't going to change, and he wasn't going to end the relationship. He was going to keep hurting me, and it was possibly going to escalate even further. So I broke up with him.

And I didn't even want to. Um, because I couldn't even see for such a long time after, um, what it really was that had happened. That he had abused me. And, in fact, we left things as, we want to be friends, and he can never imagine not speaking to me again. Um, and then he never spoke to me again. Uh, outside of like a couple of exchanges where I needed to ask for my clothes to be shipped, um, so at least I got my clothes back, uh, I had a whole closet full.

However, uh, he did throw away all of my other things, uh, without saying a word to me about it. Hundreds of dollars of things from my office were trashed without a word, and I didn't block him till ten months later because I wanted an open door still. I really thought I wanted to be his friend. Um, but, uh, I don't feel that way anymore.

I do believe he was bottling up so many emotions, uh, and he would never talk about how he felt. Um, I, I think he even, I mean, he did admit that he felt like he couldn't say it any sooner. Like, there was just no possible way to say how he was feeling sooner than the absolute last possible chance. Like, not even a chance, because three days before he left, that was actually a lie too, also.

He didn't leave for another week after I left. He, he brought me in, had this three day conversation, he was supposed to leave, and then he stayed for another week before he left, uh, with all of the friends that I was also meant to see, but he had lied to me about the dates too.

Um, but I do believe that there, uh, that he was bottling up so many emotions that he was taking it out on me physically. I believe there was a moment where he knew that he didn't want to be in the relationship anymore and instead of just ending it, he tried to push me away any way he knew would hurt me. And he knew all of the ways that would hurt me the most. And he knew he was hurting me. There was no way that he didn't know because of the safe word that he made.

Uh, and he just didn't care. He was hurting me and he didn't care. And even looked like he was enjoying it, sometimes. Um, and I can look back now and I can see all these instances that were really major red flags. Um, there was this one time that he pinned me down and asked me to try my absolute hardest to get him off of me.

And I couldn't do it, obviously. And he said something to make the point that he was so much stronger than me that I wouldn't be able to fight him back. Fight back against what? What do you mean? You don't say shit like that to people? That's insane. Um, and I was also sexually assaulted by my first boyfriend, and he knew that.

Um, he had stopped giving anything to the relationship, and he said that why was because he "was just waiting for things to change on their own." Um, he said he also "didn't have the time or energy anyway to do the things that I was asking for." Um, but then would constantly make any bit of time and energy for anybody and anything but me.

Uh, and he would say he wanted more quality time, so then I would try to arrange things for us to do online because we were, uh, long distance, but then he would complain that he doesn't want to spend all of his time on the computer anymore. Uh, and then we'd be there in person and all he wants to do is stay inside, play games on his computer, watch movies. He doesn't want to go out.

Um, and I'm not saying any of this next part to be mean, um, he lived in filth like I have never seen, and I've seen filth. This was the worst. Uh, he would spill things on the floor and never, literally never clean them up. Uh, he got an ant infestation once, um, and wasn't going to do anything about it because he said, he said "Bugs are normal in British houses," um, so I had to buy Antkiller. And he wouldn't clean his bathroom for months, and months, and months, but would constantly complain about how bad it smelled, and I would tell him, that's mould. It's mould. He complained about being tired all the time too, which I don't know if that was a lie or not, but mould will do that too.

But he would insist that it wasn't, somehow, without having cleaned in months. But it's not mould. Um, when I met him, he was washing his clothes without detergent. Um, just, he wasn't using that at all, and I don't know for how long before I met him. He was just running it with water and then hanging it on his filthy kitchen cabinets.

Um, and I felt bad. I felt bad because I felt like he needed someone to help him learn how to be cleaner. I thought he just didn't know how and I listened to all of the struggles of his upbringing and I was like, "He just doesn't know how. Someone just needs to show him." Um, and then I found out that he said he doesn't clean at all when I'm not there because he just waits for me to get there to do it.

Um, and I only found out about that after we broke up because he said it behind my back. Uh, I was doing all of the cleaning and laundry for him. Also, I had a separate bathroom. I want to make that clear. I wasn't using that bathroom. I had a separate bathroom that I cleaned for myself. I had cleaning supplies. I don't think he even actually knew I had cleaning supplies in there. Um, but I had my own bathroom.

Um, all the, all the cleaning, all the laundry. All of it. I was paying for. All of the, um, like paper towels, like soap, all of that only stayed in the house so long as I was buying it. Um, I would arrive and there would just not be toilet paper in the whole house. There were paper towels instead. And who knows for how long, too.

Um, I was paying for food more than half the time. Uh, because he would often push me into ordering food for us even if I had paid for the last meal, or the meal before that. Um, and I'm of the opinion now that I shouldn't have been paying for any food. Um, none at all, but I wanted to at least, I thought I was being equal by at least doing like a back and forth. Um, but, uh, I ended up paying for food more often than just going back and forth anyway. And he would do this to his friends all the time too. Um, but I was also paying for every plane ticket and the cat sitter, which cost roughly the amount of a plane ticket to England.

Um, and he never offered to help me pay after the couple of times he did come here to visit me because he paid for the flights that we would both take. Um, but that only happened twice at the very beginning. I have actually had a friend tell me that, that this is financial abuse, but I don't know enough about that to say for myself, but I was telling him that I couldn't afford it, uh, all by myself all the time because I was losing money. I was never able to work properly there and he wasn't traveling at all to see me anymore, even though he said he would. Uh, that was like the basis of our entire relationship starting off. Um, so then he agreed to pay for the cat sitter so that it would be basically paying half the cost of my travels. Um, and he did that once, and then never did it again, uh, despite many more months of dating.

Uh, and I was traveling often. Um, I had to. Because he was worried that we weren't spending enough quality time together. And then all of the time that he would have ever extra, he would choose, choose, to not spend it on me because there was an available choice and he chose not to spend it with me. Often.

Um, and I did everything short of just up and move there, which I was willing to do the whole time. And I told him that I was willing to do it and he knew, uh, but he insisted that I don't. He insisted not to. He was planning to move here. That was supposed to happen first.

Um, and then at the end of the relationship, he said, "Maybe things would have been different if I lived there." If I lived there. Uh, like I had said I would the whole time and he insisted I don't. Maybe that could have saved the relationship. Um, and I say all of this because I believe that people like this are genuinely dangerous. I believe he is dangerous.

Um, he was willing to lie. He was willing to do harm to someone he claimed to love more than anyone he has ever loved. Uh, his actions escalated, um, and I don't think that I'll be the last person that he hurts. Uh, and I felt like sharing my story was really important to warn people. Um, I want people to see the signs that I refused to.

I want you to listen to your body. Um, and get out as soon as possible. Tell your friends the truth and let them help you.

Um, I really thought I, I couldn't — Because I had been sexually assaulted in a previous relationship, I just thought I was so much smarter. To never — and I was like, "if someone ever laid their hands on me, I'd leave immediately. It would never happen a second time." But you, you just, it just kind of happened so slowly over time, and got worse, and worse, and worse, until the point where there's no way to deny the fact that he was hurting me and he knew, and, and didn't care.

That's just the kind of thing that I keep repeating to myself when I'm like, "But was it bad enough? What? It wasn't violent enough." Um, but I was being hurt multiple times every single day. Days, and days, and days, and days, for a month at a time in a row, uh, and I'm not even speaking on most, because I did touch on other things, but I am not even speaking on most of the other things that, in my opinion, I do think that there are some things that are across a line that make you a bad person.

I don't think that most people can be defined in a black and white, you're good or you're bad, but I do believe that there is a line that you can cross and only bad people will do the things on the other side of that line. You know what I mean? Um, and I watched a couple of things cross that line. And I just, I, I truly feel now that my soul is so healed.

Um, I am light years beyond him. Uh, this was the last thing that I felt like I needed to do — That's my cat. — Um, before I could move forward and hopefully never talk about him ever again. Outside of maybe my stories that I want to tell about other shitty things he did. Anonymously mixed in with the other stories I still have of shitty things that shitty exes did.

Because I think it's important for us to share our stories and our experiences. I think it's important for all of us to know that we deserve so much better than this. Um, and I think that if people don't want us to talk about the shitty things that they do, then they shouldn't do shitty things. Um, and this just felt so important to share.

I always wanted to share my experiences. I always will. Um, and that's kind of it. That's it. That's the end of everything I prepared. I reserve the right, uh, entirely to change my mind later and tell every story I want to, um, but for now that's all I really have, I feel like, from my soul, I want to speak on. Because I think that this can help other people.

I think that it can help other victims. Um, I have already talked to a number of — I only cry now when I'm talking about my friends! Who also dealt with such shitty things from shitty people. Um, but I'm also so, so grateful for all of my friends who were through, uh, with me through this whole thing. And my friends who also were experiencing similar, similar sorts of situations, um, at the same time, and we kind of went through it together. So, um, I think they are the strongest people in the whole world, and they made me feel like the strongest people in the whole world today. Did I call myself people? I meant person. I feel like the strongest people — I did it again. — I feel like the strongest person. They made me feel so brave. I felt impenetrable today. Um, but I am gonna go now because my friends are coming over and we're immediately gonna go become distracted by watching Love Is Blind. I already watched all of it already and I don't care.

So thank you, um, for listening. Thank you everyone who gifted subs. Um, um, I am going to be taking, uh, the rest of the week off from streaming. I have a video going out on Saturday and I'll be back next week and, uh, you won't hear about any of this again for a while, probably. But, uh, thank you all. I don't really even know what to do now. I think I'm just going to end. Um, go spread love all over the place on Twitch right now and I'll see you guys later. Bye.

Wilbur's response:

In the past week a series of allegations have been made over my conduct from an ex-girlfriend. I want to emphasise that, although I feel it fair to offer my perspective, this person's feelings are completely valid. I have taken my time sharing this statement as I wanted to process and respond respectfully and with the hope to gain a deeper understanding for the situation.

During our relationship's final months, I regrettably became slobbish, disrespectful, and selfish. These actions caused a lot of pain to my ex-girlfriend and I've since sought therapy to address these behaviours, making significant lifestyle changes to rectify my past actions. I have come to realise how much my past behaviour hurt this person, but I truly, compassionately believe I have made great strides from the person I once was and hope I can continue to grow and improve on this trajectory.

The allegation of abuse, particularly in the form of biting, deeply shocked me. Throughout our relationship, I understood from our numerous conversations and text message exchanges on the subject, that this behaviour was consensual, playful and reciprocally enjoyed. I truly believe those personal message exchanges reflect mutual affection and understanding. Out of respect for her, I choose not to publish them and I emphasise my perspective is not shared to diminish or invalidate anyone's feelings. Instead I share it in the hope that I can offer a genuine, fair and relevant insight into my understanding of the situation. While I may perceive our interactions differently, I recognise that this person has processed and expressed feelings of hurt. I want to extend my sincerest apologies for any pain that I caused.

I am fully committed to understanding and addressing her concerns going forward. I hope my perspective sheds light on this situation without detracting from its message. I am dedicated to earning and maintaining the trust of those around me and hope I continue to be held to these high standards I wish to attain and maintain.

- Will

Shubble's response:

i could not have imagined what i would wake up to today. my ex pretending he thought i enjoyed being hurt... and all of my friends immediately coming to my defense. The support has brought me to tears, i don't even know what to say. i'll be back, i'll just be taking a little time

and for the record, i don't accept the apology