#by ‘back it up’ I mean ‘explain’ not ‘justify’ their actions

[tuliptiger]

Bro I hate Silco so much. Bro. And don't get it twisted right. He's a good character, he's well written or in THE VERY LEAST incredibly interesting and compelling. To me I guess. I still can't stand him, I hate him and I think he embodies every human flaw a person can have. And every bad decision we make at our lowest points.

And for that I can't stand him in the purest way and I think that's kind of awesome. Get him out of my face though lol fuck that guy. Great presentation of what I feel a lot of people in the world are like or have the potential to be like rn.

For what he was meant to be, having just found out the original plan for him which I really shouldn't consider. Or maybe I should in favor of him, as a little grace for him. I guess Jinx and him were supposed to be like romantic. If that's your thing go for it I guess but I'm not going to talk nicely about it and it disgusts me as a heads up. Fair warning.

I'm forever grateful they didn't pull a Joker/Harley Quinn but because jesus christ I think I actually would've hated Arcane for that. For all you people complaining about Arcane, sure that's your right and it's all personal tastes anyway but it could've been actually, sincerely awful. It would've ruined Jinx as a character and undercut all of her nuance, her autonomy as a real, deeply thought out character. Her struggles, her mental health, her trauma, it would've fucking sucked.

I hate Silco for even the possibility of that and unfortunately i think it explains a little bit about some things. But anyway, back to hating Silco.

1.) He betrayed every single thing he's ever cared about in his life. He betrayed Felicia by trying to and knowingly kill her children. He betrayed the promise he made to not JUST Vander but to Felicia and himself.

Because what? Vander betrayed him first? Because he tried to kill him? Because he probably does feel genuine regret about maybe enacting the event that got Felicia killed? We never get the story but I think it's implied. Either that or Vander really was just deep in grief and rage and put that on Silco. I think they both fucked up for the record but Vander didn't CONTINUE that for the rest of his life.

What did any of that have to do with Vi and Powder/Jinx though? He's the reason everything bad happened, maybe you could blame Viktor since he went back to give Jayce the rune but every bad moment after that is almost exclusively Silco.

2.) He bribed Marcus contributing to the corruption in Piltover and Zaun. He fed drugs to Zaun for the point of nothing in my opinion. Because he couldn't come to terms with his grief, he couldn't make Piltover pay the way he wanted them too? He justified his own terrible actions for some idea of an independent Zaun for what? For who? Piltover may have taken from him but he actively chose to burn whatever he had left by trying to kill Powder and Vi.

3.) He's the reason Vi and her crew lost their loot, and their lives NOT Powder. He's the reason or at least the means for Singed to create more fucked up abominations and shimmer.

4.) He IS A HUGE SOFTIE he's soft as fuck. He loves and he loves deeply but he could never get over himself to do better. And this is possibly the main reason I hate him, he sincerely loved Vander and Jinx and Felicia and Zaun. People get hurt all the time, and it isn't the same as the trauma he faced but I DON'T think a reasonable series of decisions is to betray everything you are and have worked for to fuck over literally everyone around you. He is the scorched earth method, he wanted to hurt everyone and everything for what he felt and experienced. He's so incredibly selfish I cannot stand him.

5. A close contender, maybe even tied because I love Jinx so much. I hate that he is directly related to all of the hurt Vi and Jinx have experienced. I hate, I loath, I detest what he did to Powder and to Jinx. I feel so fed with season 2 episode 7, we DIRECTLY see what happens when Silco doesn't decide every day to hurt the world around him and hurt everyone in it. What happens to Powder without his fucked up influence.

I never thought anyone made Jinx specifically, like there isn't someone to blame because it felt diminishing to Jinx herself. But I'm rethinking it, I would say with certainty Jinx wouldn't have existed without Silco. I don't give him full credit, not in the creation of her and not her herself but the REASON she was reborn into a different person. Powder and Jinx created Jinx, but she created her because she had to, because Silco brought her into a fucked up world where she had to be different to survive.

Silco didn't support her, he enabled her, made her fear the world, fed her insecurities and projected himself into her. And because he does love, he really really did love her I think, that was what she felt she needed as a TWELVE year old girl. She needed a guardian who had her best interest at heart and not just love. Whatever support she had before, he ripped it from her and shredded it, and from that pile of rubble and ash Jinx had to find herself and emerge. But she picked herself up and chiseled herself into who she is in the series not Silco.

She's smart as a whip, she's so incredibly clever. She knew to some extent the reality of what was happening. But reality didn't have any real gravity anymore for her without something to hold her to it. Silco, at any time, could have stopped what he was doing. He could've seen her hurting and said, this isn't it. This isn't worth it. But he didn't, and she didn't need a reason to change because she had someone who fed her love when she had no one. When she thought it was all her fault and where Silco tried to convince her Vander and Vi weren't good people and that they didn't love her, won't love her.

I could go on, I fucking hate Silco. Once again, I think he's the weakest character emotionally and mentally but certainly not writing wise. He's spineless, he can kill sure, but in the main universe he couldn't get over his own feelings of guilt and hurt to do better. Nobody is satisfied with the slow progression of equity, of freedoms and peace. Silco wanted to take it all violently, take it all and take everything around it down with him.

In another universe, he's better. He makes better decisions because a different set of events led to reconciliation between Vander and him. Because Piltover made the first move of peace after Vi had to be sacrificed. Because Marcus saw a dead Zaun child in the arms of her younger sister. Because a lot of things, Silco is a better man and I think he's stronger for it.

The main universe Silco was wrong about everything he did, he made every possible bad decision on purpose over and over and over again.

The fact that I just wrote what feels like an essay on this bastard should at least show how I hate him, in the way I don't like hate hate him. I hate him in the way good art makes you hate it in just the right way. I think he's interesting enough to think about. I don't hate the alt universe Silco, I just hate the main one. He's multifaceted, he's a villain, he just kind of sucks, he moved the story in permanent ways. He forever changed the world by facilitating the events that led to Jinx as a person in Runeterra.

Anyway Yeah I really really hate Silco. Thanks for reading lol If you have some good points or different interpretations of events with Silco I would genuinely love to read them especially if they are different. I'm the first to admit I don't fully understand all the subtleties in Arcane and I love it for that, but I miss things. Changing my view on what actually happened in scenes is one of my favorite things to do right now. I crave the richer and fuller offering of a closely inspected Arcane provides tbh.

[distinguished-slacker]

I wish for an OnS antagonist that is an asshole full stop. No tragic backstory. No “I was also…” past. No “it’s for my loved one” goals. Just a big, arrogant asshole who does evil just because.

[theshiftingwitch]

Get over your bullshit

It's a new year, and most —if not all— of you have already made your lists and vision boards and scripts and decided that 2025 is YOUR year.

You are finally going to have it all.

You are going to see all of your dreams come true right before your eyes.

But how long will it take before you start wavering again? How long will this resolve dissolve into thin air? How long will it take before you go back to letting the 3D tell you how to live?

Let's face it, the 3D is not your enemy.

The only thing standing in your way is YOU.

EVERYTHING you see around you is a direct result of your assumptions. Every thought, every action, every move, every step is ruled by your assumptions, your programming.

You don't know how deep it can go. You might think that that obscure incident from your childhood didn't affect you at all, the whole time it created a limiting belief that is making your subconscious mind its own personal bitch.

And it will continue to do so because you refuse to do the work.

You refuse to get out of your own way! You are firmly rooted into that godforsaken comfort zone that you stubbornly refuse to make the simplest of efforts to change your life.

You throw a temper tantrum every time things don't go your way, cursing the universe for not giving you your desires and screaming into the abyss about how the law is fake and manifestation doesn't work and blah blah fucking blah.

Give it a rest.

No one is going to give you your manifestations. There is no higher power up there withholding your desires from you because they're petty and chaotic. There is no divine timing or lessons to be learned or a specific transit that needs to hit your 5th house before you get what you want.

You're the one withholding your own desires from yourself because you can't get yourself to make even the smallest of efforts and control your thoughts!

Seriously, would it kill you to think in your favor?

Is it so hard to believe in yourself?

Everything you think is not working out for you is simply your own bullshit excuses.

Some people are out here saturating their minds for hours, saying 10k affirmations, visualizing every night, dismantling their limiting beliefs and doing their shadow work to get what they want. And they always get what they want! Without a fail.

Yes, manifesting is instant. But you've been programed to believe it's hocus pocus your entire life. You found the law days or months or years ago, and that's spec of dust compared to the time you've been on this Earth, saturating your subconscious mind with limiting crap that did nothing but take away your own power.

Stop making excuses. Stop justifying why you're giving up or why you can't manifest or saturate or decide. Stop explaining why your self concept is shit and start improving it instead.

At the end of the day, you are the one giving YOU your desires. And it can take a few days, or it can take a decade.

You decide.

Everything is a result of your decisions.

PS: this is not a tough love post as I don't believe love is tough or cruel or mean. You can do whatever you want. This is not disregarding mental illness either, it is a clear disadvantage, but it's not an insurmountable block. You can and will manifest despite mental illness, you just have to persist.

Happy manifesting ❤️

[svenzio]

cho hyunju as your girlfriend

« non-binary reader » « other acc: @antinitoniny »

« not proofread, lots of mistakes & errors »

prompts w imagines after the cut, lmk ur thoughts !

softspoken gf!hyunjuㅡ whether it's during a casual conversation or an argument, you always feel huge amounts of affection & warmth in hyunju's voice

ㅡ after an unspecified misunderstanding

"can we talk?" hyunju softly knocked on an opened door to get your attention, leaning on the doorframe.

"i'm sorry, i promise i didn't mean toㅡ" you were so close to crying while trying to explain til hyunju interrupts you

"i understand" hyunju smiled, sitting in front of you. she placed her hand on top of yours.

"i didn't mean to invalidate your emotions earlier, i was just confused. i'm sorry. i know that you just want the best for me" hyunju talked so softly that one would think that she's putting a baby to sleep.

"but stillㅡ" you attempted to not justify your actions

"it's okay, i promise" hyunju said, giving an assuring smile. she cups your cheek, placing a peck on it.

hyunju's crazy good with eye contact. she always manages to make you flustered even during casual conversations. she actually just makes sure to listen well

it's a normal saturday afternoon for you & your girlfriend. for this weekend, you're in charge of planning & your plan is to stay at home and do nothing. when hyunju heard about the plan, she can't stop laughing at it because her plans have always been outdoors & active.

now, you're sitting on the couch with hyunju, talking about your week. you guys made it a habit to catch up after a busy week.

"yeah then like cath yelled at him and i was likeㅡ DESERVE!! as she should" you said with all of your emotions, eyes focused on the television 'coz you're trying to find a show to watch later.

"HAHAHAHAHA then?" hyunju responded enthusiastically. it's always fun to tell stories when hyunju's present.

you reached out for the chips and sat back, planning to focus on telling your story as you look at hyunju.

"cath basically told him to fuck off and that g-guy ha-hasㅡ oh my god! stop staring at me" you panicked, unable to keep a smile in.

confused hyunju: "huh?"

"nevermind umㅡ yeah soㅡ" you looked back at hyunju only for her to look so focused on you. you had to internally meditate before continuing, meeting hyunju's eyes.

"um yea, the guy, his name's mick, he gaslighted cath right in front of oㅡ oh fuck i can't" at least you tried for five seconds.

it's not that you're weak with eye contact, hyunju's eyes just sparkle as if they're adoring you right in front of youㅡ you get it? yea. you can hear that tiktok sound "blah blah blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff"

"why?" hyunju laughs, knowing exactly what's happening but wanted to tease you about it anyway

"why are you staring at me like that?" you asked

"like what?" hyunju teases

"like you wanna shut me up with a damn kiss or something"

"i feel like that's what you want & it has nothing to do with my stare" hyunju laughs

"NUH UH UR EYES ARE PRACTICALLY STATING A 300-WORD POEM FOR ME"

hyunju LOVES forehead kisses. she doesn't know that but you've noticed that she kisses your forehead like five times in one hour

"good job, my love" hyunju kisses your forehead.

"am i gonna get a kiss whenever i do a good job?" you asked, smiling. hyunju smiled, patting your head.

"hmm... sure" hyunju said, hugging you from the back as you continue figuring out the manual instructions for the cabinet. you know damn well that hyunju can do that for you in 20mins but you wanted to try by yourself anyway.

"does this go here?" you asked yourself, placing a screw on a hole.

"no, baby. it's for the handles" hyunju softly corrected you, snuggling on the crook of your neck.

"so no kisses for me since i got it wrong?" you pouted

"a kiss for trying" hyunju smiles, kissing your forehead.

hyunju who never gets jealous but enjoys how you overexplain because you don't want to make her overthink unintentionally

on your way home, you & hyunju decided that it'll be nice to take a 30min walk at night since the weather's pretty nice. you talked about various of things, noticed different things, started a 10min worth of conversation from just a passerby's shoesㅡ it was a great evening for the both of you.

until, you passed by a club. unexpectedly, you saw your high school friends outside. you haven't seen them in years which is why you were so excited that you immediately ran and hugged them.

the conversation between you & your two friends went on for 10 minutes. of course, you also introduced hyunju to them & bragged about her.

during the next couple of minutes, the walk was filled with silence. it was the complete opposite of the energy that you guys had before meeting your friends.

a lot of things went inside your head. you can't read hyunju at all. is she tired? but she still initiates conversations even when she's tired. is she mad? she would've told you if she is. is she...

you stopped in your tracks which made hyunju stop as well. hyunju looked at you quietly, wondering why you suddenly stopped when you're four blocks away from home.

"are you jealous?" was the conclusion that you made.

hyunju managed to keep her smile inside because she's curious about how this situation will escalate.

"i'm not" hyunju said with a straight face

you were stressed, you didn't know what to do, you don't know what's running inside her mind so you're clueless abt how you're gonna assure her.

"those were just my classmates from high schoolㅡ we're not even following each other on social media iㅡ we'reㅡ i hated everyone during high school" you rapped, panicking.

you're afraid. you don't want to unintentionally hurt hyunju in any way.

hyunju smiles "you don't have to explain" she says

"huh? oh my god do you not trust me" you cried out dramatically which made hyunju chuckle

"i trust you. that's why you don't have to explain" hyunju said, holding your hand.

"i love you so much & i have the same amount of trust on you so you don't have to worry" she said

"then why are you so quiet?" you pouted, leaning your body on her as you guys walk.

"i thought you're tired & wanted to enjoy the scenery." oh right, you're the type to make your own little bubble whenever your social battery runs out.

"i thought you were mad" you said

"...me? when was i ever mad?"

"exactly. i thought tonight's the first time"

"you'd never see the first time" hyunju smiles.

hyunju hates it when other people touch her hair but she LOVES it when you experiment with different hairstyles w her hair

"baby, a package came for you" hyunju said, entering the room. you jumped out of the bed & immediately opened the package. hyunju stood behind you, resting her head on your shoulder as you open your package.

"TADAAA" you excitedly said, showing her the pastel clips & ties that you ordered.

"that'll look fantastic on you, love" hyunju genuinely said

"it'll look a lot more fantastic on you" you said with a wide smile, facing her.

hyunju's confused face slowly turned into a smile. at this point, it's a monthly activity for the both of you to style each other's hair (or usually just hyunju's)

"any requests?" you asked, brushing hyunju's hair.

now, you're sitting on the couch while hyunju's on the floor, holding the boxes of clips.

"you do you. i just want a mix of black and pink clips" hyunju said as if she's talking to a hairstylist (roleplaying is ur thing too)

"alright, pretty lady"

bonus: hyunju having a whole ig highlights of the hairstyles you gave her.

hyunju who has a habit of unconsciously giving you her first & last bite of food

you brought hyunju with you at your friend's night out. your friends are also her friends so it doesn't really matter.

during meal, you're a lot more focused on talking with your friends than eating. on the other hand, hyunju's starting with her meal already.

hyunju tapped your shoulder lightly & fed you a spoonful of her food. you ate it without looking at her nor batting an eye as if it's a normal thing between the both of you.

since you weren't eating much due to the intense topic that you're having, hyunju's basically feeding you spoonfuls from time to time.

"baby" hyunju said, trying to take your attention

"i'm full, sweetie. thank you" you told her

"last one." hyunju smiles, showing you her last spoonful of food.

"i feel like these two got an invisible private bubble with just the two of them" your friend told the other

"that bubble is probably heart-shaped" the other responded

"may this love find me" your friend says (basically begging the heavens)

hyunju's the BEST when it comes to comforting you. probably also bcs she read a lot of books to help you manage your emotions

you're curled up on the couch, staring at the wall. hyun-ju walks in, her steps were soft but deliberate, carrying a steaming mug of tea. she places it on the coffee table in front of u.

“hey..i made you chamomile. don’t argue, just drink it. i know you didn’t have lunch today.”

u didn't respond, but your eyes flicker briefly to the mug before dropping back to their lap. hyunju sits down beside u, keeping enough space to not feel imposing.

"you know, it’s okay to take time for yourself. but.." she pauses, her tone softening “locking yourself away like this isn’t helping. I can see it in your eyes—you’re not resting, you’re just… running.”

"i don’t know how to face anyone right now. It’s like… I’m not enough. No matter what I do, it’s never enough.” your voice is barely above a whisper.

hyunju leans forward, thinking.

"i read something a while ago. about how we talk to ourselves.” she said, glancing at you.

"if a friend came to you saying what you just said, would you tell them they’re not enough?” she asked

you shake your head, lips pressed together.

"exactly. so why is it okay to talk to yourself like that? why are you doing that to yourself? you don't deserve that" hyunju said, your tears threatening to fall but you didn't respond.

"you’re allowed to feel lost, but don’t let those thoughts win. they don’t know you like I do.” hyunju continued, smiling warmly at you.

"you make it sound so easy…” you said, tears pooling in your eyes.

hyunju smiles gently, reaching over to place a hand on yours.

"it's not. it'll be a rough path & it surely will be filled with tears and crazy evenings" hyunju said, sighing

"but you won't be facing them alone. i'm here, and I’m not going anywhere. so… drink your tea, and let me stay in your corner. Okay?” hyunju smiled, handing you the mug. as you take it, hyunju wraps her arms around you, making you feel protected and warm.

right there, you knew that you'll be just fine.

hyunju who's so good w words & have a very unique perspective about things which makes your late night conversations amazing

the two of you are sitting on a park bench, watching people who's doing their midnight workout at the park.

“you know what’s funny about people? we think we’re so smart, but we act on instinct most of the time. all gut reactions, fear, and hope.” hyunju suddenly speaks.

“hope is an instinct?” you raised an eyebrow

“of course. it’s survival. you think a soldier keeps moving forward because they’re brave? no. they hope the next step gets them out alive. you think someone falls in love because they’re logical? no. they hope it won’t destroy them.” hyunju nods

“so, we’re just… running on hope and instincts?” you asked, actually thinking about it.

hyunju chuckles & nods, turning to look at you.

“yeah. and you know what? that’s not a bad thing. makes us unpredictable. makes us dangerous. and…”

“it makes us human.” hyunju proudly smiles, looking at the nightsky

“sometimes you sound like a philosopher.” you said, resting your head on her shoulder.

“don’t get used to it. i’m only this deep after midnight.”

the two of you sit there a little longer, hyun-ju’s words hanging in the air like the stars above—simple but impossibly vast.

active dates. hyunju's physically active (and in this case, you're not) but you always do your best to do her favorite activities w her.

you’re both halfway up a hiking trail, and you’re already out of breath. hyun-ju stops ahead, turning to look at you with a smirk.

“you good back there? or do i need to carry you?” hyun-ju asked, her grin teasing.

“you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” you said, panting as you tried to keep up.

“maybe,” she said, grinning wider. “but you’re doing fine. come on, just a little further. the view’s worth it.”

“the things i do for you,” you muttered, trudging up the trail.

hyun-ju was waiting for you at the top, holding out her hand. “and that’s why you’re my favorite. now, let me show you why this is mine.”

she pulled you up, and as you caught your breath, the view of the valley below left you speechless.

lazy dates, ofc. hyunju considers every moment w u a date. even staying on the bed for the whole day is a date for her

the two of you are tangled in a mess of blankets, the sunlight peeking through the curtains. hyun-ju is lying on her side, propped up on one elbow, watching you scroll through your phone.

“you know this counts as a date, right?” hyun-ju said, her voice soft but playful.

“lying here doing nothing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“yep,” she said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “as long as i’m with you, it’s a date. simple as that.”

you rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “you’re too easy to please, you know that?”

“maybe,” she said with a smirk, leaning in to rest her forehead against yours. “or maybe i just know how to enjoy the good stuff.”

you laughed, setting your phone aside and curling closer to her. lazy days had never felt this perfect.

protective hyunjuㅡ lowkey on army mode whenever the both of you are in a dark street. makes sure to remind you that she's capable of protecting you even if you don't expect her to.

the two of you are walking home late at night, the streetlights casting long shadows. hyun-ju is walking slightly ahead, her posture sharp and alert.

“you don’t have to keep looking over your shoulder,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

“and you don’t have to worry, because i’m looking for both of us,” hyun-ju said, her eyes scanning the dimly lit street.

you sighed. “it’s not like anything’s going to happen.”

she glanced back at you, her expression steady but confident. “you don’t expect anything to happen. that’s why you have me.”

“you’re really pulling the ‘special forces’ card right now?” you teased.

“damn right i am,” she said, smirking but still alert. “i’ve got instincts, training, and enough muscle to make anyone regret trying something stupid. you’re safe with me. always.”

you smiled, slipping your hand into hers. “i know. thanks, captain.”

“don’t mention it,” she said, squeezing your hand gently. “but if anyone even looks at you wrong, they’re getting a lesson they won’t forget.”

doing hyunju's makeup! you love helping her w her makeup. whether yk a lot of things abt makeup or not, u just love seeing hyunju's happy smile whenever she finishes her look

hyun-ju sits cross-legged on the floor in front of you, a mirror propped up on the table and her makeup bag between you. you’re carefully applying a touch of eyeliner, your tongue sticking out in concentration.

“you’re taking this way too seriously,” hyun-ju said, her lips twitching into a smile.

“and you’re moving too much,” you said, gently tilting her chin back. “i’m trying to make you look flawless.”

“i already look flawless,” she teased, though her cheeks flushed slightly.

“yeah, yeah,” you said, rolling your eyes but smiling. “let me finish, miss ‘flawless.’”

when you finally pulled back to admire your work, hyun-ju turned to the mirror, her face lighting up.

“not bad,” she said, grinning as she checked her reflection. “you might actually put me out of a job.”

“i don’t know what i’m doing half the time,” you admitted, laughing. “but seeing you smile like that? worth it.”

hyun-ju looked at you, her grin softening into something warmer. “you’re the best, you know that?”

“obviously,” you said, smirking. “now, where’s my tip?”

she leaned in, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “how’s that for a tip?”

“good enough,” you said, laughing as she grabbed her lipstick to finish the look.

hyunju who dries your hair after your late night shower. you can barely keep your eyes open so she asks little questions about your day to stop u from dozing off

you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, a towel wrapped around your shoulders. hyun-ju stands behind you, gently running a soft towel through your damp hair. your head keeps drooping forward, but she nudges you awake each time.

“don’t fall asleep on me,” hyun-ju said, her voice light but teasing. “you’ll wake up with a wet pillow, and then I’ll have to deal with your complaints.”

“m’not complaining,” you mumbled, eyes half-closed.

“uh-huh,” she said, smirking. “so, what did you eat today? anything that wasn’t instant noodles?”

“had a sandwich,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

“a sandwich? impressive,” she said, ruffling your hair gently with the towel. “what kind of sandwich?”

“...the kind with bread,” you mumbled sleepily, earning a soft laugh from her.

“genius answer,” she said, shaking her head as she grabbed the hairdryer, switching it to a low setting. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

the warmth from the dryer and her steady hands lulled you further, but she kept asking small questions—about your favorite part of the day, whether you saw anything interesting—until she finally shut the dryer off and kissed the top of your head.

“all done,” she said softly, her voice almost lulling you to sleep completely. “go on, lie down. i’ll be right here.”

of course, drying hyunju's hair too every morning is part of your routine.

hyun-ju sits on the edge of a chair, her hair still damp from her morning shower. you stand behind her with a towel, carefully running it through her dark strands. she leans back slightly, her eyes half-closed as she enjoys the moment.

“you don’t have to do this every day, you know,” hyun-ju said, her voice soft but amused.

“and yet, here i am,” you replied, gently squeezing water out of her hair. “besides, you’d just leave it wet and call it ‘air-drying.’”

“it’s efficient,” she said with a smirk, cracking one eye open to look at you.

“it’s lazy,” you corrected, grabbing the hairdryer. “sit still, or i’ll make it worse on purpose.”

she laughed quietly but stayed put, closing her eyes again as the warm air from the dryer brushed against her skin.

“you’re good at this,” she murmured. “if you ever get tired of your day job, you could make a killing as a hairstylist.”

“i’ll stick to this one client, thanks,” you said, smiling as you gently smoothed her hair down. “she’s picky but worth it.”

hyun-ju tilted her head back to look up at you, her grin soft. “you’re lucky i like you.”

“and you’re lucky i’m patient,” you teased, finishing with one last stroke of your fingers through her now-dry hair.

“perfect as always,” she said, standing up and pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before heading off. mornings didn’t start right without moments like this.

you love every morning with hyunju.

"you look amazing" you told hyunju, both of you are barely awake. waking up w hyunju every morning is what you consider a blessing. it's such a great way to start your day & you believe that a sight of her in the morning would make it impossible to ruin your day at work.

"but i just woke up?" hyunju laughed, hugging you.

"ethereal" you said, admiring her face.

hyunju got shy almost immediately, kissing your forehead. "i'll go make us some coffee" she said, sitting up.

"sounds good" you responded, drifting off to sleep once again. hyunju chuckled as she stepped out of the room.

you were sleeping soundly when you felt light taps on your shoulder & soft pats on your head.

"baby, i made breakfast" hyunju said, almost a whisper to not startle you.

"i love you" you responded, half-awake.

"i love you too so please get up, you're gonna be late" hyunju laughed at your state, kissing your shoulder.

you pulled her to the bed, unintentionally tickling each other. the room's soon filled w laughs for a solid five minutes.

"i love mornings with you" you said, caressing hyunju's cheeks

"i love my life with you" hyunju said, kissing the tip of your nose.

hyunju who was once afraid of public display of affection because of the weird stares from other ppl so you were always the one to initiate.

the two of you are walking through a crowded park, the early evening breeze carrying the hum of chatter and laughter. hyun-ju’s hands are stuffed into her jacket pockets, her shoulders slightly tense as she glances around.

you reached out, slipping your hand into hers without hesitation. “relax,” you said softly, giving her fingers a light squeeze.

hyun-ju hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting to a nearby couple, then back to you. “people are staring,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“let them,” you said, smiling up at her. “we’re not doing anything wrong.”

she looked at you, her expression caught somewhere between apprehension and awe. “you make it look so easy.”

“that’s because it is,” you said, swinging your joined hands slightly. “besides, if they have time to stare, maybe they’re just jealous.”

hyun-ju’s lips quirked into a small smile, her shoulders relaxing as she laced her fingers more tightly with yours. “you really don’t care, do you?”

“not even a little,” you replied, leaning closer to bump her shoulder with yours. “and one day, you won’t either.”

she chuckled softly, her grip on your hand firm now. “with you around, maybe.”

the rest of the walk felt lighter, the world fading into the background as you led the way, her hand warm and steady in yours.

bonus, same prompt:

the two of you are sitting on a bench at a quiet bus stop late in the evening. hyun-ju keeps glancing at the couple across the street, who are laughing and holding hands, before quickly looking away. she fidgets with the hem of her jacket, avoiding your eyes.

you reached over and placed your hand over hers, stilling her nervous movements. “hey,” you said softly. “you’re thinking too much again.”

she let out a small sigh, her gaze still fixed on the pavement. “it’s just… people look at us differently. like we’re doing something strange.”

“who cares?” you said, giving her hand a squeeze. “we’re not doing anything wrong.”

hyun-ju hesitated, then finally looked at you. “but doesn’t it bother you? being seen as… not normal?”

you smiled, leaning closer until your shoulder brushed against hers. “we are normal. the world’s just slow at catching up.”

she blinked at you, her lips parting slightly, before a quiet laugh escaped her. “you really believe that?”

“absolutely,” you said, lacing your fingers through hers. “we’re normal, hyun-ju. and anyone who thinks otherwise? that’s their problem, not ours.”

hyun-ju’s smile grew wider, and this time, when a passerby glanced your way, she didn’t flinch. instead, she leaned closer to you, her hand firmly holding yours. “we’re normal,” she repeated, almost like a promise.

[prael]

pas de deux - IVE An Yujin (ft. Jang Wonyoung)

Part 1 of folie à deux.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

18+ An Yujin (and Jang Wonyoung) x Male Reader smut

Masterlist Word Count: 7,727

folie à deux - folly (madness) of two pas de deux - a dance for two

It's survival—that's how you mask it.

It's the hard reality you tell yourself to justify being the pseudo-servant to these two girls, just to make the year as easy as possible so you can graduate. Playing their games. Never questioning their words or actions. The house of cards they've built is fragile but they keep it in check.

Somehow, you're one of the cards, one wall of the house. You've only been in the school a month. The fresh-faced transfer who fell into the grasp of the two girls who practically run the place. You can't deny it has its benefits. Like every one of Yujin and Wonyoung's friends, no one ever questions anything and you would never run the risk of falling into the bad books of school bullies.

Oh, and you also get to fuck Wonyoung senseless.

Luckily, the walls of the library are thick, everyone else is in class and the library door is locked. Or someone would have heard the squirming Wonyoung moaning expletives by now.

"Harder." Her nails threaten to pierce the skin. Claws gripped to your forearm. Her words are sharper still, cutting through the air with the same lethality as her looks. "Stop, stop, stop. Hand, there. Circles, remember. And go fucking harder will you?" You position as instructed, how you know she likes it. There's no room for creative freedom here—it's Wonyoung's way or it's no way.

But, god. She knows exactly how to break you—just enough that when she puts you back together, your mismatched pieces slot perfectly into her shape, allowing her to completely mould and manipulate you at her will, at her whim. And oh, does she love when you let her.

"That's it, there. Yes!" Wonyoung presses the heel of her foot into the small of your back, pushing you further in, urging you closer and deeper, drawing a hoarse groan from her throat. She's sprawled flat on the desk, on the second floor of the library. You're looking over the balcony, down at the empty room. It's almost monotonous, it happens at the same time every week. Hidden in the same top corner of the same library, at the same time on the same day. You've got her legs spread and your cock in her cunt.

Your fingers are digging into her thighs, pinning her hips to the desk. You don't falter once, going exactly as fast, exactly as hard, and exactly as deep as she likes it. Her movements are in tune with yours. Familiarity. Wonyoung's perfectly groomed eyebrows are furrowed, heart-shaped lips pursed, eyes scrunched shut.

"You're close, right? I can feel it..." Your words come out ragged and laboured. This isn't supposed to feel good for you, you aren't supposed to have an opinion. It's her own fantasy—an excuse for her to let herself get fucked like a little whore without question or consequence—your body's just along for the ride. You're not an actor in the scene, not a participant. You are the means to an end; a character-prop. Something to be used by the main character. To further her plot.

She responds with a shaky mewl that turns into a string of frantic cries, her slender, legs locking around you.

It ends how it always ends.

She cums. Hard.

You don't. Too messy, she says. You can't cum inside, you can't cum on her and you can't just cum on the library desk. Too risky and unhygienic. It's almost cute watching her try to cover up her gasp and squeal as she rides her high, biting down onto her soft sleeve, probably tearing through a layer of fabric with her pearly whites.

That's just how it is with Wonyoung.

***

"There you are!" Yujin is by your side and snaking her arm around yours, holding you just above the elbow and leaning against you. "Where's Wony?"

"Probably halfway down the highway by now, her boyfriend picked her up fifteen minutes ago," you explain as if it's the most normal thing in the world that Wonyoung hopped off your cock and into her boyfriend's car in the space of ten minutes. But that’s the life she lives—you live.

"You can take me straight home then, let's go." Yujin smiles up at you with her signature grin and those half-moon eyes. If Wonyoung were the definition of danger, Yujin was still just that, but wrapped up in cotton wool and given to a puppy. Her playful expression could melt even the hardest heart, and yet, thanks to her money, she too could get away with just about anything.

At least Yujin made your life easier. There was a little more give and take in your friendship—unlike with Wonyoung.

Still, you wonder exactly how the two of them do it. The whole school around their little fingers. The teachers—they overlook Wonyoung's little indiscretions as soon as the excuses leave her pretty little mouth, so convincing is her act. And then there's Yujin, she—

"You bitch!" In sync, you and Yujin look away from each other and towards the two young ladies holding each other by handfuls of hair. You don't know either of them, but they are blocking the way to your car.

"What's going on here?" asks Yujin, speaking louder than normal to ensure that her voice breaks through the constant bickering. The voices quieten and the hands release their grips, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

The pair turn to you both as they both speak at the same time. "This whore took my earrings!" One points at the other.

"Yeah? These are my earrings. How dense can you be?" one fires back, clearly pissed off, making exaggerated hand gestures for emphasis.

"Bitch, they belong to me! Stop taking things that aren’t yours, you slut! This is you and Jisun’s boyfriend all over again!"

"Ladies, please," Yujin says calmly, in just those two words she captivates attention. "You girls are friends, right?" She doesn’t give time for a response. "Well, if you're really friends, you'll sit and talk about this instead of pulling each other's hair. And if I'm being totally honest, those earrings don't exactly look worth the effort."

They lower their fists slowly, looking a little less angry now and more embarrassed to be told off. You half expect a little, "yes, mother" and an apology from them.

"Great!" Yujin says after some silence. She tugs gently on your arm, strutting between the two girls with you in tow. They stand and watch as you pass by. You only get a step or two past them before Yujin stops.

She turns to face the girls, still staring wide-eyed at the two of you. "Actually, aren't you girls forgetting something? You owe us both an apology."

The two exchange glances, looking surprised by the statement. "Wh-what for?" one asks, eyes darting nervously between you and her friend, who seems equally puzzled.

"For being in our way." The pair look around and suddenly notice the small crowd around you, phones pulled out, cameras glaring. They pale almost immediately. And you can see that they know this only ends one way. Because no one says no to Yujin.

The girls nervously get down on their knees and bow their heads. "I-I'm sorry!"

"We're sorry!"

"Excuse us!"

"Please forgive us!" They're flustered, apologizing to you and Yujin as though their lives depend on it. It feels like forever has passed when Yujin finally laughs and turns away.

"Have a lovely evening, ladies," she says in a tone sweeter than sugar, leaving the girls kneeling and guiding you again towards your car.

For all intents and purposes, these two girls are fucking crazy.

Delusional.

folie à deux

***

"You will stay and eat. I insist." It's ever so clear where she gets it from. Just like his daughter, Yujin's father simply would not take "no" for an answer. You know that really, you have no choice but the lock the car and follow Yujin up the steps into her house.

"Make sure our guest is comfortable." He glances at the maid to signal her. You notice a flinch, though only passing—the girl is nervous. No one can relax when they're in the presence of an Ahn. After his instruction, he walks into the door without another word.

You make the climb Yujin had not two minutes earlier, up the stairs and into the front door of the house, through the door left open, which the maid closes behind you.

The mansion's interior is exactly what you expect—luxurious, opulent and vast. But where you thought there might be a hint of the gaudy and tacky, there is only tasteful, expensive decorating, the finest of furniture, and grandeur befitting the family who owns it. As always, there's not a thing out of place.

Yujin's at the top of the stairs. She has already swapped out her formal blouse for a comfortable t-shirt, but she still wears the pleated skirt she did before, sitting just above the knee. "Couldn't escape father then? I think he likes you."

"He doesn't show it if he does." You shrug.

"He didn't wave you away without a word. That means he likes you." Yujin speaks as she walks down the stairs towards you. Off somewhere to your right, you hear the busywork of the kitchen, preparing the food he insisted you eat. "It's funny because I can't think why..."

She mocks you in the way she always does, with a grin on her face.

"It must be my wit, charm, personality, and incredible looks," you tell her with a wry smile.

"Huh... I didn't know my dad was gay."

"Shame he's not really my type." It's your turn to grin now.

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, that's an understatement. I know your type."

"Maybe you do," you say while climbing the stairs to meet her at the top.

She stares you down for a moment and you wait for her latest quip. She eventually looks over your shoulder, down the stairs to the maid. Yujin informs her, "We will eat in the upstairs lounge."

***

"And Gaeul, did you hear?" Yujin can barely contain her excitement as she slams her chopsticks on the table. The conversation had been flowing for a while now, mostly from Yujin as she fills you in with all the recent gossip on people you barely know.

"Which one is she again?" This one you already know, but you always enjoy the way she describes and introduces her friends. It’s so often so unserious.

"Kim Gaeul, the one in my dance class." Yujin pauses. Her eyes roll. "You know the one. Short hair, even shorter skirt. Cute smile, even cuter ass?"

That would probably narrow it down.

"Okay, but what about her?"

"Well you know that guy she's dating? The German guy?" The love lives of Yujin's friends are a bit of a blur. The more you hear about them, the less sense it all makes. "He proposed!"

"They are that serious?"

"Very! I guess it was love at first sight. Gaeul certainly saw something she liked."

"They're still young. It's a big commitment."

"But, if you want something, you should take it," Yujin affirms.

"Just like a criminal," you joke.

Yujin giggles. Something is charming about Yujin's laughter. There's an innocence and lightheartedness to her that brings you a sense of tranquillity. Suddenly, a weight rests on your shoulder. A chin nestles into the side of your neck. Warm, moist air fills your ear, "Maybe you could learn a thing or two. Life's too short to wait around and hesitate."

The weight and air vanish, and suddenly you feel cold. Yujin's French perfume lingers in your nose. "And it's good for her right, she must be getting fucked a lot." Yujin continues as normal as though the moment never happened. She picks up a piece of meat between her chopsticks, taking care not to get the sauce all over her. She brings it closer to her lips, smiling ever so slyly the whole way.

Yujin takes a drink before she continues, “and so Rei said to her that…”

She continues onto rest of the story and the many more after which you don’t really pay attention to, the moment before still lingering on your mind.

***

"As delicious as always." The two of you had spent at least an hour in the upstairs lounge, eating as you talked, catching up with events, and then talking about nothing in particular.

The maid bows at your compliment before taking away the tray of leftovers and leaving the room.

Yujin lay her arms over her chest as she leans back into the couch. Her eyes roll as her head falls to the side, staring over at the bookcase behind you.

"I hate reading." You can hear her disgust in her tone. "Dull, pointless, useless, boring..."

Yujin stops, eyes fixed upon you. Her eyebrows pull together with curiosity. "But you must love it, right?"

"There are worse hobbies."

She gives a thin-lipped grin, unconvinced. Yujin tilts her head to the other said, hair thrown over her head to settle on the other side, "do you, though? Because you and Wonyoung spend a lot of time in the library."

She knows. Of course she knows.

"Just studying." You smile weakly and give an awkward laugh, running your hand through your hair. 

"Wonyoung doesn't study." She says that flatly, cutting the air. Yujin may well be the only person in the school who dares to question the actions of her best friend. She has no interest in playing along with the lie.

You sit in silence. Any excuse would only be an insult to her intelligence.

"You're lucky really," she muses, her fingers absentmindedly tugging at the frilled edge of her skirt. Yujin makes a conscious effort to cross her long legs, exposing the small expanse of creamy flesh where the skin between the hem and knee socks met.

"Why is that?" you ask, with eyes fixed firmly on the tantalising flesh.

"Every other guy in school would kill for an hour alone with Wonyoung." Yujin purred.

"A bit drastic. They want what any young, single man would want."

"Hmm, those poor things are a second away from cumming in their pants just being in the same room as her."

Yujin gave a delightful, innocent-girl smile, contrasting with her crass language. She wore her angel-like grin with a devil's look. "Not you though. Which is exactly why she wants you."

"Why?" Your eyes flicker to the floor, away from Yujin. The thoughts circle.

"Like I said: they're far too eager for her to respect them, but not you. No." She spoke clearly, firmly. "The way you stare at her, it's almost as if you don't care that much for her."

"Not sure I understand. She is a friend, I care." you admit.

"But you don't beg it like the other boys do. She must find that attractive about you, not being desperate, but still willing." Her legs uncross slowly, tortuously so, pulling her legs apart ever so slightly. She smooths the crease of the pleats over her thighs.

You sense a chance to turn the wind and sail the conversation in Yujin's direction. "What about you? The one boy from art class seems really desperate to get close to you."

The vaguest flash of surprise came across her eyes, as if you'd interrupted her. The shock passes.

"Ah. Him." She rolls her eyes, puffing her cheeks as she does. A disgusted grimace mars her angelic expression.

"He's into you." Who isn't?

"I can tell. Not my type." She waves dismissively, having no need for your words. "I can," she pauses over her words, "take care of myself."

A creeping heat climbs your spine. "Really?" Your question sounds more curious than teasing, though your tone carries more than a hint of amusement.

Her slender shoulders shrug ever so casually. "Of course I can. Everyone needs a little," she purrs the next word, "dissipation."

It is the wording more than anything that draws a pensive mood. Yujin said it casually enough, with her fingers absentmindedly pressing up and down her exposed leg, almost as if the mere thought of it was enough to excite her. Her gaze glazes over at some unseen memory, and she gives a knowing smirk before her thoughts snap back to the real world.

"Yujin, I—"

She cuts you off, "there are so many, too many, horny boys in the world, but so few are dependable." The hand tracing her thigh edges just a centimetre further upwards, folding the pleat under the touch. "it was nice to have you here for dinner, but I have something I need to do."

"Are you expecting me to go so that you can...?"

The smile spreads from ear-to-ear across her face. "I'm not saying anything. But you know where the door is." She rises from her seat, a perfectly poised princess, and moves gracefully towards the door. Her body swaying under her baggy shirt and flowing skirt.

She doesn't give you time for a reply.

You're left alone with only the dying embers of her expensive perfume.

***

Class finished early and you're waiting. As you always did when you finished before the girls.

However, this time is different. You haven’t seen Yujin all day and aren’t sure how to act when you do. Not after what you saw yesterday. You lean back against your locker, streams of people passing by. Most ignore you, or the few that acknowledge you pay only a glance or two before continuing.

"Hey, Gaeul," you call to the one girl you recognise passing by, "have you seen Yujin?"

"Bro, she left already." You don't know when she started calling you bro. Maybe she always had. Could be part of her friendly nature. Gaeul is about as easygoing as they come.

"Is something wrong with her?"

"Nah." A gap appears in the crowd and you move to join her, heading out of the building. "You know how it is. If she wants to leave five minutes early, no one will stop her."

Another student cuts between the two of you, forcing you towards another group that blocks your way. You spin away to avoid them, manoeuvring through like a speeding car on the highway, catching up with the on-rushing Gaeul.

"And she didn't say anything?" you ask when finally back by her side. Gaeul's looking at her phone—probably reading a text from her husband-to-be.

"Hm?" Gaeul throws a glance out of courtesy. "No." she mutters before replying to the text.

"Nothing?"

Gaeul opens the door to the outside and you follow her through. She's striding like a girl with places to be, so you have to half-jog to get back by her side.

"Oh! Yujin did tell me to tell you something, actually. She said, tell him to act like a criminal. Whatever that means."

Act like a criminal.

"Thanks Gaeul," you speak quickly, diverting towards your car.

"Bro! What does it mean?" Gaeul calls after you but you don't wait around to answer.

***

The maid is there to greet you when you knock on the door of Yujin's house. Apparently, Yujin is waiting for you upstairs, and after letting you into the Ahn house for the second time in as many days, the maid disappears again into the background, leaving you to explore.

You see, yesterday ended almost unceremoniously. You stayed for dinner, you ate, talked, laughed. And then you left.

Except, it wasn't actually that simple. After Yujin left the room, you held around for a minute, finishing your drink. The ice-cold one in the fancy tumbler. Taking in the room around, as for all the time you had spent in there, you were more focused on Yujin than the exquisite decor. You admired it for all it's worth and savoured your drink until you decided that you shouldn't overstay your welcome.

It should have been simple. Walk to your car, get in, and go home.

Until you walked down the corridor and found a door ajar with the smallest of gaps. You leant gently against the frame, peering in just enough to give you a view of the bed.

On the bed was the girl you expected to find. On the bed was Ahn Yujin.

The curtains were closed, but enough sunlight managed to peak through. Light bounced off the soft skin. Each breath sent her chest swelling. You followed every rise and fall with hungry eyes.

With the afternoon sun kissing her flesh, highlighting the curve of her shoulder and collarbone, she looked even more heavenly. She wore her short hair wild, swept back and almost messy. And that's all she wore.

Her clothes discarded. A crumpled heap just beside the bed. And yet, there was a strangely intimate beauty in their chaos. As if she had just stumbled out of them in some urgent and carnal heat.

Her entire being had been shaped into perfection, carved from a block of ivory, her delicate fingers, smooth legs, slender shoulders and bare chest roseand fell with the soft inhales of breathing.

It was not the Yujin you knew; there was no hint of her elegance and poise. Here only lustful indulgence. A reckless hedonism that wanted no secrets to be kept or questions to be unanswered. Her body lay free of the bounds that normalcy imposes, inviting you to admire what she kept concealed, every precious curve and secret corner of her immaculate skin, every beautiful mark and blemish, that, in itself, was a testament to the humanity that lies just under the surface of such sublime beauty.

There was no doll, nor porcelain queen. No statue of stone or plaster. Instead, she was living, breathing, moving and feeling. Each touch was electricity. And her eyes said it all.

There was woman—in its rawest form.

And you had stood. You had stared. For as long as you dared. Until you tried to tear yourself away. You could not deny your perverted mind that moment of indulgence. And indulge you did, right up until the fear of being caught overcame you.

It should have been so simple. Walk to your car, get in, and go home.

For the last twenty-four hours, the image plagued your mind. You were consumed with her. With the idea of her. Of what she had done, of what could have been had you dared enter her room. And the guilt alongside it.

And now you're here, a day later, walking back to the scene of your crime. The door is ajar again, a few feet ahead. You push lightly, gently, inch by inch. Your breath held and the anticipation thick, clouding your mind and filling every thought, not of anything other than what you might see behind that door.

And then it comes into view. The bed and the disappointment.

A bed perfectly made, and decidedly empty.

You realise your folly—thinking, hoping, expecting the same sordid sight as before.

"I was wondering if you'd turn up." Her voice comes from behind you and her tone is low, hushed, and seductive. Every word tingles down the spine. Her fragrance arrives a beat ahead of the girl herself. "Did you get my message?"

"Yeah, about being a criminal," you answer as innocently as you can manage, still recovering from the shock.

"Exactly. As criminals, we take, without question, what we desire," Yujin whispers the last few words in your ear, a heavy, breathy tone that takes any resolve left in you and melts it before it's even fully formed. Her scent surrounds you. It overwhelms you.

"Yesterday, what you saw me do," she begins, her fingers reaching for your arm, gliding gently and purposefully, drawing slow patterns with a single nail, "you had the decency to resist temptation, but I don't want that." Her fingers grip your forearm tightly.

"It doesn't matter why you resisted. All I know is that you watched me... touch myself, pleasure myself. Do I turn you on?" She knew damn well the effect she was having.

You answer her question with another question. "Yujin, what are you playing at?"

"You're smart. Don't you know how this goes?" She steps, smooths around the shape of you, and into your field of vision. "Don’t you know why you’re here?" 

She raises her arms slowly, making a show of her body. With all the possible casualness, she smooths her hands up her sides, slowly, passing her stomach and onto her chest, and gently caressing. A shirt clings to her slim frame. The thin fabric is practically see-through, clinging to every delicious curve. The bottom few inches lifting, revealing flesh and the lines of lace trim on her matching her cream panties.

"I can't fight it, Yujin." Your hands find their way to the curves of her waist. She wriggles under the touch, happy to have the reaction she desires.

"Fight what?" She smirks, clearly amused by your confession and how easily you give in to her. Her hands roll gently across her breasts.

"The alarm in my head saying it’s a bad idea."

"Don’t fight it. Because I'm really, really hot," she whispers as pulls her top up her body. It rolls over her head and flops to the floor and you marvel, breathless and hungry, at the expanse of silky skin and feminine curves.

Her hands stroke at your crotch and she laughs softly. "Hard already?"

Her fingers curl and squeeze around the outline. She gives an approving smirk at the way it twitches under her touch, even as she mocks its hardness. "For me, huh?"

You nod, and she smirks. You move your hands up her body, but just as you begin; she twists free and walks towards her bed.

"Go, stand." Yujin points at the centre of her bedroom, towards the foot of her bed.

The carpet beneath you is soft, and you're barefoot. Walking. Watching. Eyes never leaving Yujin. Her bare thighs, defined, slender and soft. The curves, so gentle, and her accentuated hips. Her round, shapely behind, cradled so perfectly in tight-fitting panties. You have barely reached your position when she looks at you from over her shoulder and wiggles her panties slowly down her legs and leaves them on the floor.

She's crawling on the bed. You can't move—you barely manage to breathe. Each breath burns your throat. You're motionless, speechless, hypnotised in awe at Yujin. As requested (perhaps ordered) you remain. Watching from afar. Yujin seats herself on her bed with delicacy, her knees pressed together.

"I have to be honest with you," she confesses. "I'm not going to fuck you. But you can help me. If you're willing, that is."

"Anything" is your reflex response. You're powerless. She has you in the palm of her hand, and the growing ache in your groin, which was eager to be free of the confines of your pants, only affirms your thoughts.

"Are you sure?" Her head tilted to the side, teasing you with naivete. Yujin laid a single, slender finger on her lip and pulled it down suggestively. "If you come over here," Yujin insisted, her free hand parting her knees and patting the bed between her thighs, "then we could help each other."

There's a flurry of activity. You pull off your shirt and leave your trousers behind. Now you're kneeling across from her.

"Watch me. Just watch." Her voice is softer now, sultry, as her fingers ghost down the column of her neck, along her collarbones and then tracing the curve of her breasts, with the lightest grazes against her nipples. Her eyes fall closed as she carries on tracing feathery touches on her torso.

To be here now is all you could have wanted, really. If anything is happening beyond the sound of her shortening breaths and soft hums and her hand snaking between her legs, it's beyond your awareness. Yujin is shifting in front of you, wiggling and squirming; biting at her lip until it reddens and fills; gasping at the gentle caress of fingertips sliding slick against the smooth lips between her legs.

"No touching, just look." As if to drive the point home, her gaze holds on you for a moment, her lips curling into the sweetest smile. As a reward for your patience, her eyes grow warm and welcoming. Her legs spread wider, and Yujin hums. Her touch builds slowly, making small circles. There's no sign of urgency to her actions, none of the frustration that Wonyoung showed when waiting for her release. But Yujin isn't simply touching; it isn't about release. She's revelling.

Her breasts move with her heavy breaths. Her body trembles; her legs shake. She leans back slowly, taking support from her elbow, exposing herself wholly to you, with her head pressing back into her pillow, her hair sprawling in a mess and her pink lips slightly agape as her mouth shapes sounds that die as quickly as they're born.

"Yujin, I..." You lean forward onto your knees, placing an arm by her hip and another by her shoulder. You're hovering over her. Watching the display before you in stunned silence.

She grabs a handful of her tit, squeezing and moaning. "Keep talking," she breathes, her lips still quivering.

"I want you so bad."

She presses harder and slides her finger a little lower, dipping inside her cunt. Her other hand goes to your arm, then strokes over your bicep up to your neck. "You can do better than that." She whispers, wrapping her hand around your nape.

"How could I not want you?" Your knees are between her legs, you lower yourself closer without breaking her rule. You do not touch. "Not when you smell so enticing. Or sound so delightful. Or look so stunning."

Her mouth opens, panting breaths and half-uttered sighs fill the air. "And?"

Strands of hair fall over her face, you bring a hand up and hover it near to them, seeking her approval. Her eyes dart to your hand and consider it for a moment before giving the gentlest of approving nods. Your hand brushes the strands to the side. Her cheeks are bright and rosy, her skin damp, moist with perspiration, though still like silk to touch, you discover as you run a finger down her cheek.

"And when you look at me... with that smile. You have such a cute smile, like right now, that innocent—"

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me."

You oblige. Yujin rises to meet you. And you take her in a hungry kiss. She falls back against her pillow. You slide a hand around her thigh, gently holding it against yours. The sensation of skin on skin is electric.

"M-more. Give me more." Yujin demands, and you give her thigh a squeeze in agreement. Your hand moves to her ass, giving the swell an approving touch, caressing the skin, and kneading ever so slowly.

You watch her, in the dimness between kisses, studying her delicate expressions and tiny reactions and all the while you enjoy the feeling of her pliant flesh beneath you.

This goes on and on. The kissing. The touching. The moments of separation. When Yujin pauses and lays her head down, catching her breath. A few heartbeats pass, she opens her eyes and watches you. Languidly, she smiles and beckons you to lean closer, to hold her again and taste her sweet lips once more.

The dim, orange sunlight of early evening has long since faded. A soft, blue light envelops her bedroom. As the minutes passed and the two of you enjoyed each other's touch, Yujin never stopped. Never stopped her hand buried between her thighs. And this time your kiss broke by the jolt of her head, thrown back into the pillow. Her neck is at full stretch and her lips agape.

No moans come from her mouth. Instead, her breath hitches and holds. She freezes like this, under the moonlight piercing between the curtains. Reflecting from her skin. An image of pure beauty. Unadulterated pleasure.

Her eyes remain shut, but a beaming smile grows.

Finally, she sighs deeply and lets out her last shuddering, shaky breaths. She rises again and searches your eyes with her half-open ones and smiles once more.

"That was perfect," she murmurs, satisfied, as she lolls back into the pillow and rubs her hand—the hand covered with her cum—over her heaving, sweat-slicked chest.

You can only admire as she rubs her hand over her tits, smearing them with a mixture of cum and sweat. And when she's done, she lets her hand fall beside her head, the other resting on your shoulder.

"What are you thinking?" Her question came slowly, her speech still languid.

"How amazing you are."

Yujin smirks before stretching, arching her back from the bed, thrusting her tits at you. "You've probably thought that a lot." She's hot, and she knows it. "Anything else? With me here like this?"

"Your body is better than I imagined. Perfect."

Yujin brings a hand up to cup her tit, as if offering them up for you. "Glad you think so." The next word was a demand, "Taste."

Her chin tilts down and her gaze lifts. Her eyes watch curiously as your head dives to her chest. The most overpowering thing is the smell. The combination of her rich perfume and the scent of sex.

"That's it. Let me guide you." Yujin reaches round, holds the back of your head, and pushes your lips on her nipple. She giggles as you suck greedily, nibbling at her and lavishing her flesh in sloppy adoration. Yujin's skin glows a hue you'd never seen before. And tastes a taste so sickly sweet that you swear is so addicting that as a second becomes a minute, your tongue would never tire.

"Good." Her voice is soft and doting, but her breath catches for a brief instant as you roll your tongue over the swollen peak, drawing a tighter grip on your head. Her hands bury into your hair, her nails against the scalp. She pulls at you, guiding your tongue across her chest.

Yujin whines. And for all the sounds that you've heard today, there is none so sweet, nor one that cuts so deep as when she pulls you away. "God, I feel so sexy now."

Yujin lets her leg rub up to yours. Gyrating gently and grinding your thigh with hers, she works herself closer. Then her legs curl, capturing you and holding you. Yujin raises up so her face is millimetres away, whispering into your lips, "You don't even know what a turn-on you are right now."

She guides your hand with her own, down between her thighs. And she rubs your fingers up against her slippery opening. "Feel that? That's for you, and I can't wait any longer." Her eyes fall closed and her forehead rests against yours.

"I want to fuck you, Yujin."

"We aren't going to fuck." She punctuates each word separately but speaks without anger. Her tone is honey. It's dripping with lust despite the coldness of the words. "But I am going to let you cum now."

Her hand leaves your own, leaving your fingers pressed against her cunt. Both her hands now. Both against your body, rubbing at your chest and working their way down. Yujin's got a devilish, vapid expression. An insufferable confidence.

"And maybe this is selfish, but," Yujin grins wickedly as her hand takes a fistful of cock. "I'm also going to get off to watching you blow a load."

Her thumb, smeared in her arousal, rolls and drags. It's a wicked gesture that plays you like a marionette. Yujin draws her wet thumb up your length. The pressure and tension are enough to bring your breath hitching.

"It'll be huge." You lean into the feeling and whisper hotly. The heat building between the two of you is dizzying. She wraps her fingers around the base of your cock and squeezes firmly, jerking her hand up to the head.

"Good." The word escapes her parted lips as she takes the first full stroke. And then she doesn't stop. Her fingers tighten and the movement is repeated, finding a quick rhythm that you follow along to.

"Touch me," Yujin orders again. She looks down between your bodies, the tangle of arms, where she strokes your cock rhythmically. Using her other hand on your wrist to push you into her. Two fingers. That's what you give, gently stroking down along her cunt. Two fingers inside and curling up slowly inside her. Your hand pressing against her cunt, palm rocking against her clit. "Keep doing that."

You follow along. Obeying her directions and fulfilling her commands, making short little motions between her legs. You've watched her cum once and know exactly how to bring her there again. You push further, probing deeper, massaging the hot slickness. And you must be doing it right. Her grip on your wrist slackens and her body collapses back into the silk.

Finally, she fully focuses on you. Her hands work your cock. Up, down. Smooth, measured, fluid strokes. Unsurprisingly, she's perfect, each action purposeful, coordinated, and calculated. You know from the tension already winding, growing tighter and tighter, that it's a race you're destined to lose.

Yujin sighs heavily. Her lips remain open but her eyes grow serious. Head propped by the pillow, she's watching her handiwork. Watching the first drops of cum leak out and she palms them, taking them into her grip, making it messier as she continues to pump. Her eyes lift to watch your face as it distorts, and as you let out a groan.

"Are you close yet?" Her hand tightens. Faster. Rougher. Her fingers graze your sensitive cock, your body convulses and the involuntary reaction is a knee-jerk buck of your hips into the warmth of her hand. And her laugh follows. Delightfully warm, innocent, genuine. It fills the room and pierces through any self-conscious embarrassment. "Guess so, huh? Come on, cum. Just for me." Her thumb drags over your cock's head.

Your hands still moving, and Yujin's body beginning to quiver. With her orgasm fast approaching, she's determined to make you finish first. Her other hand has a hold on your balls, encouraging them to let loose.

Your lungs hurt from the shallow gasps and a sick knot forms in the pit of your stomach. A tingling buzzing and a throbbing that overcomes everything, wiping the thoughts from your mind. Only her eyes. Yujin's warm, hazel, angelic eyes are what remains. They stare with determination, urging you on.

She knows. You know. You can't hold it anymore. Your body isn't yours anymore, it responds to Yujin, and when she grins, you have no power. Yujin's in control, the only words in your mind. "Cum. Cum all over."

"Ugh, fuck..." is all the warning that you can manage. Her grin widens into a malicious smile and her hand becomes a vice. You can barely breathe; a dull buzzing rings in your ears. Your vision is a blur. All-consuming pleasure blinds. You buck into her hand and feel the thick ropes of cum leave. Firing onto her toned stomach. On to her tits. Wherever her hand directs you.

"Wow, really came hard," Yujin grins teasingly at her messy hands.

Breathing is easier now, and the rush, though it fades, lingers still in every inch of you. And as feeling comes back, as your mind clears, you realise your own hand never stopped. You're still mindlessly fucking her with your fingers. Still making Yujin writhe and moan. She's so warm. Wet.

"Fu-ck. Ke-eep doing... that." Her legs pull at you, forcing your body on top of hers. You respond in your movements, curling your fingers into her and slamming them harder. Your palm hits her cunt every time with a slap.

She's got a hand on her tit, squeezing the cum-covered mounds, her hand sliding around in the sticky mess. It's spreading—the mess, all over her tits—and she's using it for pleasure. It glistens in the soft blue moonlight, catching your eyes.

"I-m..." Yujin starts, then gasping a sharp intake of breath, then more noises, stunted. This goes on until, finally, she takes one slow, heavy, deep breath, filling her chest and holding it there. Her eyes are glassy as if she's not looking through them. And she's still gripping your sensitive cock, hand covered in cum. You groan softly as her hand rubs the last few drops out.

She cums again. She tried to warn you, but this time she's nothing but moans. Erupting from her. Rough. Deep. Coming from within. She gushes. Wetness coats your fingers. Her cunt overflows and runs out onto your hand. A mess of her cum on you, a mess of your cum on her. You watch her breathing as the final few gasps leave her, slowly returning to a steady, even rhythm.

Yujin is breathless. "W-wow..."

You kiss her cheek gently. Your body finds its place beside hers. "Fuck me, Yujin," you exhale.

Yujin's breathing is slow and even, a smile beaming, radiating that warm glow that is her. She takes a deep breath in, then lets it out again.

"No." There's not an iota of sympathy.

You let out an audible sigh, but Yujin holds her finger up. "No sex tonight," she corrects herself, before pushing on your shoulder, rolling you over until she sits atop you.

Her lithe, cum-covered body presses down upon you. Her hips against your spent dick. She leans back, straightening her torso. She barely weighs a thing. Her body is as light as a feather. Yujin gives an innocent look, smiling but avoiding the eyes, but after a moment her smile turns coy, even teasing. She runs a hand over her body and pulls it away, strings of sticky cum stretching from her fingers to her stomach.

"I need a shower." She runs her eyes over your body. "We need a shower."

"Or we can continue..." you speak as you run a hand up her thigh.

Yujin moans in response, and she closes her eyes at the contact. A tremble wracks her for a moment, until her eyes snap open. "No." She pulls back and pushes off you. "Come. Let's shower."

She's standing beside the bed, and you admire her. "You look gorgeous." The words float in the air, and Yujin lets a soft, barely visible blush form. She takes it well; you would've thought she'd dismiss the words, but she smiles warmly.

"Come on." Her finger beckons you.

You follow and don't take your eyes off her. And why should you? Her body is so enchanting, swaying her hips from side to side in her lustful saunter. Her ass and shoulders roll in sync perfectly.

***

Hot water and steam. One runs down your body and the other fills the air. Not thick enough to block your sight but still veiling everything in a white, blurry mist, just enough to muffle the sound, enough to add something in the background.

"Mm..." Yujin murmurs as you rub her back. A luxurious bar of soap. You lather your hands and work it across her body. Underneath her arms. You guide your slippery hands to her sides, lifting and moving with them as they run along her stomach. You tickle gently above her hip bones, smiling at her small reaction—how her hips roll away instinctively.

"So, what happens now?" you ask. Yujin had been completely quiet during the shower. But you can't help but think that you need to address what just happened, what could happen.

"Well, I could bend over right now, right?" Her voice is bubbly, still in a post-orgasmic high.

You chuckle. "But you won't."

"But I won't," Yujin confirms. "I haven't decided yet."

"That's ominous."

Yujin closes her eyes. "Not like I'm the only girl who you're fooling around with."

"So you want it to be exclusive?"

"No." Yujin takes the soap and turns to face you, rubbing it over your chest.

"You're a hot guy, with a nice cock," Yujin's eyelids fall half-closed and her lips spread to show her tongue running over the corner of her mouth, and with the faintest shrug, and adds: "We both know I could have my way with you anytime I want."

Yujin moves past you towards the jet of running hot water. She bows her head under it and lets it rinse off the foam. The suds flow down her body. The streams turn to rivers. Bouncing, trickling, coursing between her supple breasts, down her narrow waist, over her toned stomach, then along her long legs. She takes a second longer than necessary, basking in the spray and enjoying the sensation, and the visual she knows she creates for you.

She reaches out and pulls you under, body against body. She brings her mouth to your ear. "But no one can find out. That would cause you a lot of problems." Her hands grip you tightly as if to emphasise the seriousness. And while her tone remains jovial, there is an underlying sternness.

"What do you mean? What would happen?"

"The position my dad is in, we can't afford to have this come out. He would have you out of the school and out of my life in an instant." Her voice lowers, almost a growl, but there's amusement in it. Her smile widens as she looks you in the eye. "But that won't happen, will it? We'll make sure of that."

"No, won't happen."

"And while we're on the topic..." Yujin grabs at your crotch, stunning you. "If you're gonna keep fucking Wonyoung, you might want to do a better job of hiding that. It'll end the same way."

"Y-you don't mind if I fuck Wonyoung?"

"Please, I encourage it." Yujin wraps a hand around the nape of your neck and pulls you in closer. You move your arms to hold her back. Skin on skin. Her breaths are hot, and steamy. She whispers the next few words, drawing out every syllable, each sound heavy with meaning.

"I..." You lose what words you want to say, flustered by her open, unexpected, and totally cool, reaction.

"Why would I? It's hot as fuck." Her lips brush over your cheeks, ghosting over the skin with a soft, supple touch. "And I know she won't fuck as good as I will."

NEXT PART HERE

[peachesofteal]

MELOS (PART TWO)

main masterlist / Azriel's masterlist

Part One / Melos masterlist 5k words - AO3 Tags: 18+ mdni. Blood, feelings of fear and panic. Reader POV. Trauma. Protective Azriel. Canon-compliant, post ACOSF and HOFAS. "I would spend a lifetime earning your forgiveness"

The fly amanita has been eluding you.

It’s speckled red cap is usually so easy to spot, but you’ve been trudging through the woods all day, turning over logs and peering around tree trunks to no avail. You’re getting closer and closer to the break in the forest, the one bordering a large meadow rich with wildflowers, the one you hardly venture to unless you’re truly desperate for something specific.

You’re seriously considering it when something dusky red catches your attention from the corner of your eye, and you breathe a sigh of relief as you spot the healthy patch of fungi. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” you sink to your knees, digging down to the roots. The soil is wet, freshly damp from a recent rainstorm, and it sticks to your fingertips. “Such a pain in-“

Magic scrapes at your skin. Long gruesome fingers of something unseen try to clutch at you, drag you away, and your power surges to meet it, beating it back to the gloom it calls home. You shudder. The magic from your mother's blood, the gifts the Middle grants you, are enough to keep you safe, protect you from most things in this place, the ones nefarious and full of malice, but that does not mean they do not try. 

You exhale, breathing freely in the crisp winter breeze whispering through the trees, rustling the deadfall into small vortexes that spin across the wood, twisting upward in a delicate dance of changing seasons. You lift your face to the sun just as the wind turns dark, smoky grey, and then explodes in a burst of ink, onyx spilling around the mushrooms, wisps snaking through the stems towards your knees.

You swat them away.

Azriel.

You grit your teeth. Don't think about him, don't think about him, don't think- 

A shadow brushes against you like a feather, and you hiss. 

Azriel.

The male who tortured you. Used you. Gained your trust to hurt you. Suffocated you until you thought you were going to die, until spots appeared in your vision and your heart slowed. The male that hurt you, in more ways than one. 

Fooled into falling for a ruse, you believed it meant something every time your heart thundered when he was near, how your magic crooned for him, tried to reach for him, touch him. The pain you saw in him, over and over again, a mirror to your own, led you to believe in a fairy tale that never existed, a stupid notion about two halves of a whole, only for it to crumble and reveal manipulation and lies.

And after it all, whatever he gleaned from you he must have determined to be inconsequential, since no one has shown up at your door to haul you away for execution. No one came to imprison you, or banish you, or torture you, again. No one came to take you away from your home, your life, like you were expecting.

He did it for nothing.

The shadows are an ever-present reminder.

Ever. Present.

They collect in the corners at work, they trail along the ground as you run your errands, go to dinner, visit your only friend in the city.

Thankfully, they seem to stay out of your house, though in the middle of the night, it’s not so easy to tell.

You shoot them a glare. “Run back to your master and leave me alone, for the hundredth time.” You have no concept of a Shadowsinger’s magic, or an Illyrian’s, no idea if the shadows see, or hear, or speak. Their presence frustrates you, and his hoarse attempt at an apology that night still haunts you. Why does he not just come to speak with you? Explain himself? Justify his actions?

It’s been weeks, and still nothing. Silence from the Spymaster. Your rage that was once all consuming is starting to cool, leaving a mess of confusion and pain in its place. 

You need to let it go, you must, but the music persists, faintly there in the back of your mind, a melody you can’t forget.

It’s a double-edged sword, one that slices and stings. You see him in your nightmares, and your dreams. In the dark, you hear his voice, cold and calculating, pacing around you in a suffocating circle, and in the sun, you see him in the Middle, ablaze in a mist of brilliant blue, brushing his lips against yours.

You’ve grown familiar with how a room changes when one of the Wraith sisters arrive. Shadow rolls in like a fog, dissipating as they materialize, grey gossamer turning to smoky quartz, taking shape as a beautiful female, her eyes iridescent like black pearls. 

Rarely, do the twins ever come together. 

Today is the exception. 

Cerridwen gives you a half smile, gaze lingering on your clothes. “If I made you a new frock, would you throw this one out? It’s nearly in tatters.” You huff.

“This is my work frock; it’s supposed to be a bit messy.”

“It’s not messy, it’s falling apart.” She raises an eyebrow, and Nuala places a slender hand on the stack of brown paper wrapped packages on the table.

“How are you?” The question is loaded, expectant, and they watch you, analyzing every second of whatever is showing on your face.

“I’m fine.” Are you? The lie is so painfully obvious, and they exchange a look. 

“Azriel,” Nuala begins cautiously, “has asked if you would be open to seeing him.” You freeze.

“I..”

“In a public place of your choosing, in the city.” The very idea tips you off balance, blindsides you. Could you do it? See him? 

“With a third party, if you would like.” Cerridwen adds. Maybe this is your chance at closure, an opportunity to put it to rest. “Take some time to decide, and we’ll-“

“No, no. I’ll do it.” You scramble to think of a place where you’ll feel safe, somewhere you’ll be among many, and not few. “Is… Rose and Thorn okay? It’s in the Palace of Thread and Jewels.” They nod.

“Of course. And a third party?” You shake your head. Something in your soul assures you no chaperone is needed, and you allow it to guide you. “Very well.” Nuala waves her hand, wisps of storm clouds floating around her fingers-

And then Wraith sisters are gone.

He’s there before you.

Seated at a table outside, elegant and sculpted, an exquisite, eldritch beauty accentuated by strong, chiseled lines. His skin glows golden brown in the warm bath of the sun, flecks of caramel and green, honey and oak painted together like a priceless landscape in his irises. His wings are tucked in a tight formation at his back, but even in restraint, they shudder, their membranes more unique than a snowflake, more delicate than a spider’s web.

He’s almost too stunning to look at. The beauty of a god. A prince of shadow, shining in winter’s glow.

Suddenly, you’re very self-conscious, fighting the urge to pick at the frayed threads of your dress, too aware of how faded its once emerald green is, how fast your heart is beating, anxiety and pin pricks of fear cascading up your spine, coupled with an undeniable longing that shakes you to your core.

An ocean tide too strong drags your eyes to his, holding you captive in its current, the two of you suspended, floating, woven together in a melody, same song you’ve been hearing, feeling, all this time, elusive, empyreal notes harmonizing across your soul, your magic. The heat of the patio, magic humming in the air producing the equivalent of a warm spring day, urges you out of the cold and towards the table, meeting him where he stands, so tall he towers over you. 

“Hello.” Your stomach flips. This is suddenly harder than you imagined, and you’re being torn in two, afraid and yearning, two sides of a coin. His eyes gentle, and he moves back a fraction, giving you space. You manage to clear your throat.

“Hi.” You can’t look away, and finally, after a second turned eternity, he motions to the chair.

“Would you like to sit?”

“Sure.” The words are stiff, like your back, and you hold yourself rigid, hands clasped together in your lap.

“Thank you for coming, I… I know this was a lot to ask.” You nod, unable to make your mouth move. “Are you well?”

“Yes.” You’ll need more than one syllable answers to get through this, and you fight against the vice squeezing in around you, trying shake loose the battle raging in your blood. There's a need to protect yourself, fortify yourself... and another, one humming a song of wonder, of desire, a song you don't know the words to. He takes a deep breath.

“There’s nothing I can say to excuse what I did, and I know you have no reason to trust me, but I-“

"What you did? You tortured me, you terrorized me. You made me feel like I was dying. and I... why did you… why did you waste your time tricking me into thinking you were… we were… it was all fake.” Your voice breaks, and his eyes flash with despair. “You tricked me into trusting you, letting you get… close,” you study the tabletop, fingertips tracing loops in the woodgrain, trying to maintain your control. You can’t let him see how badly it hurts; how awful it is to know whatever you thought was happening between the two of you wasn’t real, how he's shattered your own trust in yourself. How could you not see the deceit? How could have fallen for such a blatant deception? How could you allow yourself to be hurt like that? These are the questions keeping you from sleep as they toss about in your mind, scolding you, chastising you for allowing yourself to be so weak. Stupid. “Why waste all that time if you were just going to do it? The act itself was... it was terrible but the manipulation, the lie that came with it, feels worse somehow.” Your cheeks heat with shame, mortified at the tears now blurring your vision, and his hand twitches, almost jerks towards yours before sliding away.

“There are no words in any language, anywhere, to tell you how sorry I am. I would spend a lifetime earning your forgiveness, if you’d let me.” Everything you want to fight back with, the words you wish to bury him with, die on your tongue as you stare at him with wide eyes. “I don’t deserve to see you or ask for a moment of your time. I don’t even deserve this chance you’ve given me today but… nothing was a trick, it was not fake. I was a fool.” You know you should say something, but still nothing comes, and there’s a rising uneasiness emanating from his, shadows shivering around him in a halo. “I would ask you to strike a bargain with me.” What?

“A bargain?” He nods solemnly, face set with resolve, foreign limerence weighed down by sorrow reflecting in his gaze.

“Allow me to spend some time with you, to show you how sorry I am, to prove how real it was, and in return, I will owe you a debt.” You fight to keep your face blank, smothering an outward ripple of shock. Maybe he’s gone insane.

“You… the Spymaster of the Night Court… would owe me a debt.” You chew on it, toss it around between your cheeks, try to digest the enormity of it. A debt could be anything, it’s a favor, a wish, a request that must be granted, no matter what it is. You could ask that he drink a vial of poison, and he’d have to do it. Could ask him to leave Pyrthian, and he’d have no choice. Most importantly, you could ask him to leave you alone. Forever. “And if I asked you to never speak to me again?” He winces.

“That would be your right.” This is a bad idea. Your magic trills, vibrating with a strange yearning, again guiding you away from the rational choice and into an agreement.

“I will see you once a week for a month, and in return, you will owe me a debt,” you extend your hand, “and swear not to harm me.” You add hastily, expecting him to refuse, or attempt to change the terms, but he meets you with zero hesitation.

The magic hits you like a gale force wind, wild and too strong, planting itself in your skin to push ink to the surface.

A tree.

The roots sprawl around your wrist, twisting upward into a trunk and then outward into branches, spreading wide until they’re nearly touching on the inside of your forearm. He snags a finger under the cuff of his shirt to reveal the tattoo’s twin, the concrete vow between the two of you plain as day.

What did you just do? 

You’re taking advantage of the first meeting. Having a second with you, a powerful, formidable second, gives you an opportunity to trek into a more dangerous, more unstable part of the Middle in search of a rare mineral.

You’re also using it as punishment, irritated with the small twinge of guilt growing in your side. He strides along at your side silently, shadows skittering ahead across the forest floor, disappearing and reappearing at will, as if they’re scouting and reporting.

“Will you tell me where we’re going?” He finally asks, cocking his head to the side as you stop for a moment to catch your breath. He’s not winded at all, of course, and you’re starting to regret this choice, while also trying to avoid staring at him. Every time he moves into your line of sight, your palms sweat and you remember how his laugh sounded on the steps of your house, how he earnest he was when asking you questions. You remember the kiss, and the way his mouth felt upon yours. You remember it all, and butterflies take flight in your belly. 

But being alone with him in a dangerous place such as this, is also a stark reminder. A reminder of the last time you were alone with the Spymaster, truly alone, and how it ended. 

“There’s a cave a bit from here where a very rare crystal grows. Its mineral compound is a key piece to a specific elixir.” His lips twitch into a small, barely there smile, reading between the lines.

“You’ve brought me along for back up.” You smirk.

“You didn’t say what spending time together had to entail.” You shift your backpack. “It's just past this bog up ahead.” He stops short, eyes sharp, tensing.

“A bog?”

“Yes. You know… like a swamp?”

“Of Oorid?” You blink.

“You know the Bog of Oorid?”

“I’ve been there.” Now it’s your turn to scrutinize him. Could you have underestimated this male, again? 

“Why?” You shiver. You’ve visited the Bog before, twice, and left each time with a new scar, a new nightmare.

“We were looking for something.” We? Questions brew in the back of your mind, so many of them they’re hard to contain, but you’d hate to appear too interested in him and his adventures.

“Did you find it?”  He nods and says nothing. Fine then. “It’s not the Bog of Oorid, just a boring swamp. C’mon.”

You withhold a key piece of information regarding the swamp.

It’s quite hateful, if you’re honest, and a small part of you weeps at your own vindictiveness, but the vengeful side feels too smug, too satisfied.

“It’s this way.” You take the lead, stepping into the ankle-deep muck. “Sorry, you’ll have to get a bit dirty.” The trees here are warped, bent to the undertow of the swamp, stripped of their life, yet still thriving, flourishing in the inert, foul water. Wicked, and greedy, they creak and coo, relishing each cursed step Azriel takes. Your magic crests, drawing up through the Middle, and you smile to yourself as the mud reaches mid-calf. Right about now-

He hisses.

“Are you alright?” You call innocently over your shoulder, now paces away, reveling in the sound of him fighting against the sludge's hold. When he doesn’t answer, your heart quickens, and you turn.

He’s shaking his head, wings flared at his back, muscles flexing beneath his leathers, trying to work himself free, and you bite your tongue to keep from telling him it won't work.

The swamp is a collector, a keeper of things, admirer of the rare and unusual. You’re sure it’s never ensnared an Illyrian before.

“Careful,” you sing, “struggling makes it worse.” He’s knee deep but surprises you when he breaks a leg free and takes another step, cobalt blue siphons beginning to gleam, shining into the dark green stagnant water and pockets of mire. Interesting.

“Clever little witch.” He's amused, reverent, and you're irritated by his reaction. “How does it not trap you?” Keening echoes through your soul, frantic and tortured. It’s reaching for something, crying for something, steeped in a distress you don’t understand. An incessant tugging, the faint sound of a melody. A chiming of bells, ringing, and ringing, and ringing. You steady yourself with a deep breath.

“I ask it not to. My magic comes from the Middle, like my mother’s. It makes things... more amenable to me.” You make it sound far worse than it is to spook him, but he only watches you with interest, keen eyes dissecting you from the inside out.

“And will you ask it to release me?” 

“Maybe.” You shrug. He sinks farther, now trapped to his mid-thigh, and your pulse races. You had planned to leave him here, trap him here until you came back, but your magic is clawing at you, heart trying to beat out of your chest, fear and panic colliding with an instinct buried so deep, it can’t be cut out or ignored, an instinct trying to push you into his arms, pleading with you to help him. It hurts, trying to fight it is like trying to swim against a current, your muscles screaming at the struggle, your power thrashing in your veins. The music is no longer a delicate, enchanting thing but a symphony flowing into a fortissimo, brass and strings and keys digging into your soul.

It's too much, your heart pounds in your ears, magic shredding your restraint.

It's too much, and you long to go to him. 

Release him, you command the swamp, and it tightens its embrace, a lover clinging to another, refusing to relent.

Is this not for me?  

No. He is mine. Release him. Now. You press onward, urging the swamp to relax, it’s reluctant acquiesce bringing you a relief so strong you have to hold yourself steady. It recedes, and the two of you stand face to face, chests heaving. You don’t understand what’s happening to you, what this war that rages in your magic, your heart, your entire being means.

He closes his eyes, the shadows receding, disappearing entirely as he takes a long, measured breath, his hand pressing against his ribs, still deep in the dredge of the fen. 

"Are you alr-" 

“Is there anything else I should be aware of, before we continue?” He cuts you off, the heat radiating from his body coming in waves, and you push against the pull.

“No.” You croak. He inclines his head.

“Very well. Lead the way.”

“Why don’t you winnow here?” You're seated on a rock outside the mouth of the cave. The trek itself is the most dangerous part of this task, and the crystal retrieval was uneventful. Boring, even, as you walked side by side with Azriel in silence, contemplating the unexpected amount of remorse over the swamp settling in your stomach like lead.

“I don’t winnow to most places in the Middle if I can help it.”

“No?”

“You never what will be waiting for you, or what you will discover, when you arrive.” You take a bite of your apple and sneak a glance at him. “You’re not angry. About the swamp.”

“No.” He’s preternaturally still, but rife with intensity, alight with an ache you can’t describe.

“Why?”

“I deserve far worse from you.” You say nothing, because what can you say? It’s true.

But if it’s true, why does it feel so awful? 

You stand abruptly, eager to separate yourself from this situation, this confusion and confliction. “I should get these back.” Winnowing from the Middle, at least, is a perfectly safe option, and you’re eager for the escape now.

“Next week?” Your head is pounding, limbs twitching like your body has a will of its own, and suddenly you’re drained, magic and will quickly depleting. He steps closer, brows knitted together in concern. “Are you okay?” No. 

“Y-yeah. I’m going to… I’m going to go.” He frowns.

“You look ill.”

“I’m just tired. The swamp takes it out of me.” You lie weakly with a halfhearted smile that lacks conviction, and before you can do something stupid like reach for him, you draw on your power, giving him one last look. “Next week.”

You’re at the Palace of Bone and Salt when it happens.

The market is packed to the brim, overflowing, most caught up in the approach of Winter Solstice. It’s still weeks out, but all are always eager to celebrate the city’s favorite holiday. Boughs of holly and evergreen, ribbons of red and green decorate the square, twinkling fae lights nestled high and low. You’re looking for bone marrow, but can’t help loitering by the chocolatier’s stall, his perfectly crafted confections artfully arranged in pyramids stretching far past your head. He catches your eye with a smile. “Would you like to try anything?”

“Oh, no, but thank you. They always look so lovely.” He pulls a pink chocolate swirl from the collection that’s caught your eye and holds it out to you.

“On the house then, for Solstice.”

“Thanks so-“ Your gratitude is stolen by a groan, one rattling upward from beneath your feet, the entire market rumbling so violently the stalls creak, their goods tipping to the side.

A quake. 

They’re rare, but not unheard of. The mountains breathe, stretching and straining, the plates they’re built upon occasionally shifting and realigning, all of it causing Velaris’ foundation to shake. These things you know, but you’ve never experienced it firsthand, and you didn’t expect such… force.

The shopkeeper dives beneath his counter, others running in every direction through the market, panic and fear permeating the air. They’re looking for cover, afraid the second and third story buildings may come crashing down on their heads, while others try to outrun it, sprinting away as fast as they can manage.

It’s pandemonium. Everyone is being tossed around, marble and wood falling and rolling, and you’re frozen, rapidly trying to weigh the options, decide what to do when something catches your eye.

A child.

She’s standing in the middle of an aisle, screaming for her mum, and without hesitation, you snag her around the waist to tuck her into your chest, covering the back of her head as you curl into a ball and huddle beneath the counter of the first stall you see.

That’s where you stay, for the next ten minutes. Curved over this little girl who can’t be more than two, holding onto her as tight as you can to quell her screaming, trying to calm her. Things fall on you, something scrapes the side of your face, and it stings, but you don’t let go. You can’t.

You’re somewhere else in your mind. In the Middle as a child, running as fast as you can to the boundary, trying to get to safety as your mother howls. Claws scratch down your back, blackened, putrid magic tries to drag in the bowels of the forest, all while horrid shrieking and crying fills your head. The boundary is too far, and you fold yourself into a hollow, a damp, muddy nest inside the base of a tree where you hold your breath and sit really still, just like you were taught.

The quake ricochets around you, but the screeching in your ears is not from this time, this moment. It’s from then, you and this small child in your arms now the same, scared, alone, and crying for your mothers.

Even once the rumbling stops, you don’t move. Too afraid it will start again and you’ll be caught in the open, you wait. The sticky, festering sap of the memory clings to your synapses, refusing to let you go, embedding itself beneath your skull like it needs to live there, as if you could ever forget. There are moans from the injured, confusion and worry from those who took shelter, but multiple voices rise over the din of everyone else, giving instructions, looking for the wounded and those who need help immediately.

“- was right here, but she let go of my hand… there were too many-“ a frantic female’s voice echoes over through the market, and her terror is met by a kind, reassuring voice.

“We’ll find her.” The girl in your arms makes no attempt to free herself, still shivering in your hold, clinging to you with all her might, and you stay rooted to your spot.

There’s a brush of magic against your mind, a gentle caress that probes the dense sedge wall, and you push it away, opening your eyes to see a beautiful female crouched in front of you. “Hello.” The High Lady. The little girl finally moves, wriggling against you.

“Mara!” Her mother calls, rushing over and scooping her into her arms, sobbing. She looks her daughter over and then holds her tight before trying to approach you. “Thank you, thank you,” she’s reaching for your hand, trying to squeeze it in a manner of gratitude, of love, but you can’t move, still grappling with the noise ringing in your head. There’s more conversation, more of the High Lady’s voice, patient and gentle, and another’s, deeper, heavier.

“-shock, maybe?”

“-go get him,”

“Cassian-“ The second voice is enough to startle you back to yourself somewhat, and you carefully stretch your limbs, crawling out from under the counter and away from them, standing up on your own two feet. The High Lady holds her hand out as if you steady you. “Easy. You’re hurt.” Hurt? You instinctively touch your face, fingers coming back stained crimson. You need to get out of here, need to get as far away from all of this as you can. You’re still trying to right yourself, convince yourself you’re here, not there.

“Maybe you should sit down.” The other one, the big Illyrian who you met in this very place months ago, watches you with concern. You’re shaking, lungs expanding, searching for as much air as they can find, warm trickle of blood falling over your lips and down your chin. Pain registers slowly, no longer isolated to your face, but in your side too, and when you press your hand to your ribs, wet fabric squishes beneath it. More blood.

“Let's get you to a healer,” the High Lady tries, motioning to your head, your side, and when you don’t respond, she frowns, glancing at her companion. The wailing is finally quieting to a point where you can properly think, but words still won’t come, and she’s about to say something else when shadows swirl around the three of you, and Azriel drops from the sky.

Azriel. Your heart sings his name, and the double-edged sword cuts to the quick, opening you up to a strange spark in your chest.

He looks… awful. Insane, even. Wide eyes find you, his wings stretched into a defensive position, shadows spread around him in a dark cloud, and his fear is so palpable you swear you can feel it. All you can do is stare at him as he frantically takes you in, focus never wavering, even as he speaks to those at your side. “What happened?”

“We found her under here,” Cassian points to your hiding spot, “protecting a little girl. We think she’s in shock.”

“She needs a healer.” He grits, hands flexing and relaxing from flat palm into fist, repeatedly.

“We know.” The High Lady angles her body between you and the Shadowsinger. “Az,” her voice is serious, with an undercurrent of authority, “maybe you should back-“

“You need a healer.” He ignores her, and you shake your head. You need to get out of here, to get somewhere safe where you can try to rip out the rot of these memories still nipping at your heels. 

“I need to go. Home, I need to go… home.” I need to go home? That’s the best you can come up with? Cassian snorts, and Azriel says your name, an edge of dominance cutting through the haze of your mind. The blood loss is making you woozy, and the ground is unsteady, continent turning over as you start to feel sluggish. Your vision grows blurry, and then there’s a hand on your cheek.

“Look at me, it's okay.” Azriel murmurs, and you try. You do. There’s something about his touch, the texture of his hands that soothes you, comforts you, but the world is falling away, and darkness is taking you, tugging you into the lull of sleep.

You curl your fingers into his shirt, a last-ditch effort at staying upright, at staying awake, looking up into a never-ending swirl of hazel, green moss and bright umber drenched in panic.

They’re the last thing you see before everything goes black and you slip under.

[kichiyosh1]

"I made it with you in mind"

wanderer x reader

to think he'd end up finding joy in such a childish activity

✧: he ends up being mean at the beginning but he apologizes in his own special way, slight hurt/comfort but nothing major

(I'm back ig? idk :3)

He couldn't believe the absurdity to which you and the young archon were subjecting him to.

The sins committed by the former harbinger are things he won't refute or deny. Indeed such actions musn't go unpunished, but perhaps he's underestimated the extent of the dendro archon's mercy.

Mind explaining what all of this is supposed to be?" he knows, with just a single glance, he grasped what was about to unfold, he just couldn't believe it. There displayed before his very eyes, a colorful assortment of beads lay scattered across a wooden table.

"You've dabbled in arts and crafts before, haven't you? You could say I proposed the idea to Lord kusanali as a way to keep that evil little brain of yours occupied"

'What evil is there to be done in bracelet crafting of all things, huh?' he deadpanned while simultaneously picking up a bead, examining how it reflects the light that's passing through the crystalline windows.

He let out a scoff.

"Have you forgotten who I am? A being of celestial creation, lessened to do recreational activities such as these? how amusing." Pathetic was the word he was looking for. Seriously, do you really expect him to just sit down quietly and start passing beads on a string without complaint to how this is a hit on his pride? It'd be more fitting if you locked him up for all of eternity, but this, this was just mockery.

It was the warmth of your hand that snapped him out of his thoughts. Eyes widened before squinting, but he dared not move, curious to what it was you were doing. You had started to fasten a piece of string to his wrist, gentle with your touch, measuring it so that it'd fit securely, but not too tight to be uncomfortable.

"Who gave you permission to lay your hands on me?" The warmth of your touch was strangely starting to get to him. He swatted your hand away, any more of that and he wouldn't know how to react.

Both of you were now glaring at each other. "Is it that hard for you to accept someone's act of kindness? I'm just trying to help." You could've sworn there was a slight change in his eyes when you said that, but was quickly replaced by an irritated smirk on his face. "I don't recall ever asking for your help, go give it to someone who actually needs it." He waved you off before plopping himself down on one of the stools before suddenly picking out random beads and charms like he wasn't against the idea a moment ago.

With furrowed brows and your mouth left slightly agape by his rude behavior, your face settled on a frown. You were used to the wanderer's arrogance and unpleasant attitude towards people, but there are times where even you are left puzzled. You went out of your way to make sure the activities kusanali planned out wouldn't overwhelm him, she'd ask you if you were doing this out of pity for him. You firmly shook your head.

You simply cared for him, that's all there was to it, but it didn't seem like he reciprocated the motion. The last he's heard from you was a sigh, before the sound of your footsteps slowly leaving faded.

You haven't visited him since. I mean how could you? if he was going to act like a brat while you spent your time there then might as well steer clear out of his way. No, you weren't being petty, and even if you were, you most certainly had every right to be. You nodded to yourself, justifying your actions as wanderer just being an asshat and you being the more mature one in this situation.

It wasn't easy. There were times where you would cross paths when he was on break from his duties (and bracelet crafting), or times where he himself is actively seeking you out, and before he could even call out your name, you're already making a bee line towards the exit.

You sat yourself down, exhausted from all this running around. Another successful day of not coming into contact with the wanderer.

"Doesn't he have other businesses to attend to?" If he had time to be going around looking for you then surely he was slacking off, right?

"As far as I'm concerned, you are my business." Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"So how long do you plan on avoiding me?" he was standing behind you, face leaning down above your head as you met his gaze from your position on the bench.

You put on an air of annoyance before flicking his forehead, causing him to hiss and reel back from your attack as he rubbed the spot. "Hey! you deprive me of your company for days and now you dare assault my face? you-" you were already walking away, with the esteemed wanderer quickly following closely behind you.

"Hey", he reached for your hand, but you batted it away. It was definitely worth it to see the offended look on his face, but there was a small pang in your heart when you saw how his face faltered. "Who gave you permission to lay your hands on me? don't go acting all buddy buddy with me now." you crossed your arms, throwing back what he had said to you a few days ago.

"ah, you're upset with me about last time." You kept a stern look on your face, expecting for more, but if he failed to deliver then you'd have no trouble turning away from him again.

His mouth kept opening and closing similar to that of a goldfish, but no words came out. He looks conflicted. It took him a whole minute to sort out his thoughts, and with a deep sigh he spoke.

"The way I reacted, it was uncalled for. Like you said, you were only trying to help and I should have, I, it's just the way you held my hand, it made me feel weird." his gaze turned downcast feeling a little embarrassed by getting riled up by something so minor as physical contact.

you don't know that of course, you'd just assume he was really really ticklish in some areas

Would you mind closing your eyes for a moment? I promise It'll only take a second", the soft spoken tone he's taken on is foreign to you, but not unwelcome. You were hesitant but complied. And if he does anything funny you'll make sure to write a full on report about it to kusanali.

You could only feel how he softly held your hand, how he delicately glided his dainty finger in order to tie what you assumed was a,

a bracelet?

You opened your eyes and that's when he leaned in, his soft breath near your ear "It was supposed to be a surprise gift, but an apology gift works too." your face felt warm, and your hand did too (to which he was still holding). Was this the weird feeling he was talking about.

A moment after, you examined the accessory on your wrist.

and my was it beautiful.

The main colors of the bracelet were your favorite colors, accompanied by beautiful white pearl beads and crystal flowers and cute charms. Truly something you wouldn't expect the wanderer himself to make.

You released a small laugh, happiness spreading throughout your system. "Did you really make this?" You were starting to look too happy for his liking, but of course you always looked more beautiful with a smile on your face. He scoffed in order to hide the ever creeping happiness that was also starting to spread across his face.

"Is it that hard to believe? I had you in mind when I made it after all, so if you're going to complain about its design then the person used as reference is at fault." You were just about to complain to him about him complaining that you'd not dare complain about it when he added on.

"again, I'm sorry for disregarding your help. Whether I needed it or not, I wanted to make the bracelet solely on my own so that it'd be more meaningful of a gift to give to you." This time he held your gaze, determined and truthful about what he said.

It seems you had judged him wrong, well not entirely. True he had a unique character, but that's just what made him, him. You held his hand, and the colors from earlier are returning to both of your faces. You held it there before pointing to his wrist, "It's only right I make you one as well, right? that way we'll be matching." You then intertwined your fingers. He was gonna combust.

EXTRA:

"I didn't think wanderer would be that into bracelet making" Kusanali peaked from the corner of the room. He was deeply concentrating on what he was doing and she did not want to disturb. "A little peek into that mind of his wouldn't hurt". After using her skill, a flurry of thoughts from wanderer flood her mind.

'Is this too much? or maybe too little? is [y/n] a minimalist or a maximalist?'

'This reminds me of you, this one too, and this one.'

'This charm is cute, like you. Wait no you're most definitely more cuter'

'this bracelet should be honored to be worn by you'

'maybe i'll make you a necklace next'

'I hope you'll like it'

[st4rgirllv]

𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐭. 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐚

And you keep on falling, baby, figure it out Just drive slow, straightforward, or I'm walking around And your dad keeps calling, tell him, "Cut that shit out" Just keep steering, keep steering now

Synopsis: Late night drives with your bad influence boyfriend, Rintaro Suna

cw: fluff, angst cursing, not proofread, sh mentioned, abusive dad, 3rd year hs suna, mention of sex

"Hello?" Suna picked up his cell phone and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked for the time only to see how late it was. "It's 3 a.m., who's this?" He tried to check for a contact, but the screen was blinding him.

"Rin? D-do you think you could... uhm, pick me up?" you asked your boyfriend. He knew something was wrong because you were sniffling and whispering during the call. "Rin?" you panted, trying to calm down. "My- my dad's kind of.. uh, upset and I just don't wanna be here right now."

"Yeah, sure. I'll come by the back. be there in five, okay? Just lay low 'til I get there." Suna reassures you. Okay, well now he's fully awake.

The car drive was silent. Although he's your boyfriend and should ask stuff on why you wanted to be picked up, from the bruises on your face and arms, he thought maybe you'd want to talk at your own pace. It'd be fucking stupid if he asked if you were okay after seeing you like that.

So, he helped you sneak out and get into his car and drove around the neighborhood for at least 30 minutes while you looked out with your hands in between your knees before you spoke.

"Sorry, I had to call you up this late..." You did everything not to look the brunette. "My dad was acting up again and he just had a drink and I happened to be in his way when he threw a baseball so I got a bruise and everything..." you rambled.

"Fuck that," Suna cut you off, turning the corner. He sounded pissed for the right reasons.

"Sorry?" you asked, confused.

"I can't stand you defending your father again and again after he keeps hurting you like this," Suna parked on one of the sidewalks and looked at you. "Have you seen yourself? You're covered in bruises and all you're thinking about is justifying your asshole dad's action." He gestured at you, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not saying that what my dad did was fine! I was saying that it was an accident and that it wasn't his fault because he was drunk!" You explained, tears forming in your eyes.

"Who are you fucking kidding? Look at yourself, you look like you just left a gang fight." He opened the car mirror. "yn... I'm tired of answering your calls just because wanna escape your dad," you looked at each other in silence

"Look," Suna grabbed your arms, bruised with cuts and scars. "Every time you call me I always hope that it's because maybe you miss me or- or that you wanna have phone sex or something, I mean I'd be down to do that," He kept on talking, making you chuckle.

"But I seriously don't wanna hear you say you need me to pick you up while you're sobbing after your dad hit you because that would mean I'd have to see you hurt. That hurts me too."

You were so glad you never believed those dark rumors about Suna because he's quite the opposite. "I'm sorry," was all you could say.

"I told you, you should've just lived with us. My mom loves you so much, God knows why. She probably loves you more than me," your boyfriend cringed at the thought as he restarted the car. "I mean you are living in scholarship, you can totally live with us."

"Do you want anything? We're gonna pass by a 24/7 store here, I'm gonna buy you some bandages for your bruises, then we're gonna go to the beach so you can rest." Suna repeatedly looked at you to see how you were doing.

You couldn't help but smile. You didn't know how lucky you were that Suna was here. Maybe he's all you needed. "Hmm.. I want M&Ms with peanuts, snickers, iced tea, and did I mention M&Ms with peanuts?" you pretended to be curious.

"Yes, you have. What a way to spend my money but you know what they say, "happy wife, happy life."" The brunette shrugged.

"Really? I'm your wife now?" You asked, giggling.

"Yes, you've always been my wife, just not officially yet, you know." He reached for your hand, intertwining them together.

You wanted to stay like this forever.

Ring... Ring... Ring...

"It's my dad..." you looked at Suna as he parked near the 24/7 store.

"Look, just ignore it. If your dad keeps calling before I come back, just tell him to cut that shit out, you're not going back there." He left the car and walked over to the store.

You did what he said, your dad had called at least 5 times before Suna could come back. "Is he still calling?" your boyfriend settled in the car.

"Yeah, Rin, maybe I should just answer it. Maybe he's gonna apologize, you know-" you tried to argue back

Ring... Ring... Ring...

"Maybe he's just checking up- Hey!" Suna suddenly took your phone and left the car "Rin! RIntaro, come back here! Ugh!" how dare he put you in child lock?!

After 10 minutes of pouting, your boyfriend finally went back into the car. He seemed proud of himself until he saw your face after he gave back the phone. "Oh, c'mon don't pout. I just told him to fuck off."

"Rintaro, I swear I'm gonna hit you." You pointed a finger at him.

"Okay, I just told him being an alcoholic isn't an excuse for being a bad dad. I just protected you, is that so bad?" Suna's eyebrows furrowed.

"I guess not..." You looked to the side.

"See? Now let me treat your bruises," His lips met yours, moving at a slow pace. "Mmh... then maybe we can have a little car sex, that's kinda one of my dreams-" After he pulled away you hit him on the shoulder, with a smile on your face.

"Oh, my- stop that!"

"Okay, I'm sorry! Now let's hurry so we can head to the beach." Your boyfriend said, pulling out the medicine.

"Thank you, Rin. I don't deserve you, I swear."

"You deserve the world, you should know that."

ᯓ★ I liked this, it's not that bad. Anyway, thank you for reading<3 | Masterlist

[gatheringbones]

[“While for some, it did not matter how others viewed them, Gee explained that he would feel bothered if others viewed him as anything other than heterosexual. Gee stated, “Yeah, ‘cause I don’t want a man coming up to me on the street and being into me and hitting on me and being gay with me, because then Ima have to set him straight.” I asked Gee what he meant by setting someone straight. Gee simply stated, “It’s going to depend on how aggressive they are,” and he did not explain any more with further probing.

For Gee, being symbolically rendered as other than heterosexual meant that he was recognized as a potential date or hookup for gay/bisexual/queer men. Rather than simply taking a compliment from a man flirting with him or responding that he is heterosexual, Gee felt that he would have to “set him straight.” The man’s queerness, in this instance, is an affront to Gee’s being. Thus, Gee’s “setting him straight” becomes conceptualized as an act of self-defense. Further, Gee’s worries about being perceived as other than a heterosexual man and experiencing other men hitting on him was not only about his sexual orientation but about his gender identity, as well.

When I asked Gee about the murders of Black trans women, he responded:

Well yeah, I could see that, I wouldn’t kill them, but I could see why men would do that. Like there’s a fear, you know, and that’s a threat to your masculinity. You’d feel violated in a certain way. I know men who would do that. I wouldn’t do that, but I know men who would.

Gee conceptualized dating and/or being with a trans woman as an assault upon his manhood and his masculinity. Being with a trans woman would mean that others may see him as gay or bisexual rather than straight, lowering him in a hierarchy of masculinities to what Connell terms “subordinate masculinities.” Connell notes, “Oppression positions homosexual masculinities at the bottom of gender hierarchy among men.” Thus, even if a gay/bisexual man embodies an otherwise hegemonic masculinity, their non-heterosexual identity functionally depreciates their masculinity and manhood. Trans women’s embodiment of a “pariah femininity” is contaminating to cis-heterosexual men’s masculinity, and violence against trans women enables cis-heterosexual men to move back up this hierarchy out of a subordinate masculinity.

While Gee, here, stated that he himself would not commit such violence, he exemplified Connell’s conceptualization of “complicit masculinities.” Gee would not enact the violence, but he continues to benefit through his allegiance to other cis-heterosexual men and his willingness to justify their actions.

In the Introduction, I quoted Elektra from Pose stating, “They don’t kill us because they hate us. They kill us because they hate what it means to love us.” Gee explained repeatedly throughout the interview that he did not hate LGBT people. He was more accepting of cisgender LBQ women, because he had a fetish about being with a woman who wants to be with another women. However, he was tolerant of cisgender GBQ men and trans people. What is at question here, though, is not whether he can accept others existence. For Gee, trans women existing and him being seen as attracted to trans women are two different things. To be with a trans woman would render him less masculine, less heterosexual, and less of a man. “]

alithia zamantakis, from thinking cis: cisgender heterosexual men, and queer women’s roles in anti-trans violence, 2023

[chronicsyd]

Caitlyn and Ambessa's Game of Cat and Mouse pt 1- "Appointing A General".

So people keep saying Vi saying "cupcake" woke Caitlyn up like a sleeper agent magic word and that's NOT the case at all, Caitlyn KNEW that Ambessa had ulterior motives and so I went back and watched her scenes from eps 3-6 to prove it. Caitlyn's Already realized Ambessa's play here, or at very least that she's up to something. That means that "evil overlord Caitlyn" was NEVER going to happen to Begin with, everything that Caitlyn's doing is playing a game of con with Ambessa (granted, the actions Caitlyn takes to do this aren't Good, and I'm not justifying them, but it's more of a... necessity for her is the best way to put it. and playing a game of cat and mouse isn't unrealistic for her because she's a politicians daughter). And I'm gonna split this up into a few parts to explain eps 3-6 and explain how this plays into the argument she has with Vi in Act 3. so let's begin:

like I mentioned before in the other post breaking this down, the first emotion to appear is shock, Caitlyn wasn't expecting her name to be called Whatsoever, probably thought that it was going to be Salo or something. But what her eyes pick up on are the families of high houses in the room that start nodding their head in approval.

This causes Caitlyn to start to think, "Why me? Why bring my name up at all?" before thinking back at the families nodding their heads in approval, it's her Status that would get Them to agree. The gears start turning.

She then takes notice of Maddie pounding her chest, which is what leads the other enforcers to start pounding their chests as well, they're her Fellow Enforcers and like the fact that she's called as well. She's connecting the dots.

THIS is a look of realization, it only lasts a split second, but it's THERE, she's connected the dots. She's from a powerful house and is commander of the Enforcers, of Course Ambessa was going to call on Her name and have Her be the face of Piltover. and it's at this point where she has to make a choice: turn Ambessa down and seem "weak" in front of everyone? or accept Ambessa and see what's really going on?

This face had confused me for the past week because it didn't seem like it had to do with her anger towards Jinx or the attackers of the memorial. But now, this is a face directed AT Ambessa, she has not trusted her from the Start, but in order to confirm her suspicions, she has to accept this role being offered to her. It's unclear if Ambessa recognizes that Caitlyn hasn't trusted her from the start either, or if Ambessa takes notice of it as the two start to spend more time with each other (because when she says "you don't trust me" in ep 4, several months have passed at that point)? When Ambessa says "Come, child", Caitlyn realizes the choice she Has to make here, and it's a BAD one.

This is a face that Screams "I don't Trust you" and she holds eye contact with Ambessa as she passes by, probably trying to decern something, Anything from the look in her eyes but she can't linger too long to make Her seem suspicious to Ambessa before their game has even begun.

you can tell that Caitlyn feels Genuinely terrible for the negative consequences for the choice that she just made. because there are people in Zaun who are now going to be worse off Because of this. Because deep down she KNOWS there are innocents in Zaun, not monsters like Jinx or those who attacked the memorial, because that's really who the "animals" comment was targeted at, people who were behaving violently.

BUT she needs to keep up appearances, so she keeps a firm face when she turns around and pulls her fist to her chest, seeming Completely loyal to Ambessa at this point and time.

Like I said, I'm gonna break this up into parts covering events of Act 2 and how they both try and manipulate the other. so check back in soon, i guess...

[5targh0st]

NUMBER ONE GIRL

31. you're mine (written)

prev // m.list // next

Neither of you talk much, but you have a great time nonetheless. It's almost as if you both know what the other is thinking and words weren't exactly necessary. However, something similar to fear keeps you from letting go; fear of your feelings not being reciprocated, of saying the wrong thing, and of messing up the weird and comfortable relationship you've built.

However, little by little the awkwardness disappears and everything seems to fall into place. You joke around and laugh. Everything feels easier without the weight of expectations and labels hovering over you.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice drowned by his own laugh.

"What?" For some reason, you can't help but smile.

"Why were you hiding in the bathroom?" He seems nervous, "I got worried for a second."

"I wasn't hiding," you can feel your face hot. "I was talking to my friends. Don't ask." You try to laugh but it comes out as a sigh.

And just before you go on a rant about everything and reassure him that you weren't hiding from him, he smiles and reaches for your hand. He knows. You're not sure how, but he knows; he wouldn't be smiling like that if he didn't.

Dessert arrives and you're so lost in his presence that you barely notice how people have started to leave the place. Has he always been so alluring?

When you finally have to go, you reach for your card just to be left waiting. "We haven't paid."

"I did. I paid in advance so you wouldn't pull any funny tricks."

You want to argue and say it's not fair for him to pay every single time you hang out. Then it hits you, are you really hanging out? This whole dinner thing has turned out to be more date-like than you anticipated.

"There's something I want to show you..." His voice interrupts your spiraling.

You just nod and follow him back to his car. Of course, you won't say it out loud but you just realized you'd go basically anywhere with him. Are you supposed to feel like this? Is it wrong?

After a short drive, you finally arrive at the place he wanted to show you. It's a recording studio, although way different than the ones you have at school. This place has a lot more equipment and looks cozier.

"Is this like your personal studio?"

"Something like that," he explains turning on everything, "I share the place with Heesung."

"I didn't know he's also part of the music program."

"He's not. His parents are doctors so they wanted him to follow their steps and, after a lot of arguing and screaming, they compromised on psychology so Heesung could still have time for music."

"He sounds brave."

"He is, but don't tell him that, his ego is big enough as it is." He jokes, but you see the fondness in his eyes. He sure loves his friends.

"Like you're one to talk..."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

You both keep on bickering and laughing. Then silence sets in, but not the uncomfortable kind of silence, it's more like a natural kind of quietness. The same type of silence that comes before the sunrise; a breath of fresh air in the loudness of your lives.

"What did you want to show me?"

"Me."

You must look confused and maybe even concerned cause he laughs and looks away before explaining. "I know why your friends didn't like me, and I know at least one of them told you not to hangout with me or whatever.

I'm not saying they're wrong or that people misunderstand me, but they don't know the whole truth. They don't know me beyond the persona that, I confess, I've built to keep them out. But I want you to know me, all of me.

I'm an asshole, I was in love before and got my heart shattered, and I used that as an excuse to play around and maybe even hurt people. I'm not saying my actions were justified, but I did what I thought was necessary to not be hurt again..."

He is almost spiraling. This is the most honest he's ever been, but he sounds just so desperate.

"Yeonjun..."

"Please, let me finish. I like you. I'm not a good person, and I've hurt people and I'm a mess and I might fuck things up... and I like you. I know I was the one to say we should take things slow and see where it got us. From the moment I first laid eyes on you I knew you were gorgeous but now, after spending time with you and getting to know you a little, I like you and all of the things that make you who you are."

You don't know what to say. He likes you. You like him too, but you don't know how to say it or where to start. So kiss him.

You pull him in and he seems surprised. For a second you start to think that maybe you rushed a little with the physical contact but then you feel his arms engulf you and his lips moving against yours. Has he always been that good of a kisser? Your mind can't even begin to comprehend what got you here.

"I like you too..." you whisper when the contact stops. Too nervous to look at him.

"I kinda figured." He laughs and you feel his hands cupping your face and his thumb caressing your skin. Just a light touch.

"Shut up." You try to hide from his gaze.

He brings you closer and wraps his arms around you, as if he were scared you'd change your mind. "You ruined my speech, though. I even wrote a song so you'd hear about my feelings while I uncomfortably stare at you for four minutes straight."

You can't help but laugh, of course he would do something like that. "Play it for me."

"No way."

"Come on! I'll even pretend to be surprised and everything."

He gives in. Part of him thinks he'd say yes to anything you ask but that's a door he won't open yet. He just admitted he likes you, there'll be enough time in the future to worry about the intensity of his feelings.

he takes off his blazer and walks to the piano. "Please remember that you asked for it."

"You're doing great sweetie!"

He rolls his eyes and you can see his blush but he starts anyway, "This ain't for the best..."

His hands move swiftly yet hesitantly. It's been a while since he's felt so vulnerable. Your soft gaze follows his every movement and he can feel his skin getting warmer by the second. You smile for a moment enjoying the effect you had on him. Until he looks at you while singing.

Now you get it. It's not uncomfortable at all. It's rather intimate. Having someone so openly expressing his feelings for you in such an emotional moment makes you feel helpless and bare. It's almost magical.

"... delicate." He finishes and avoids your eyes.

"Don't get all shy on me now." You try to joke.

"I'm not shy!"

You bicker for a while and everything feels so natural. You don't know what made you feel so nervous at dinner, he's just Yeonjun.

"I do want you to know that I don't expect us to put a label on this right away." He explains while holding your hand. "I want us to go on dates and have like the whole experience. I wanna court you or whatever it is old people call it."

"I'd really like that." You can stop smiling. You didn't know it was possible to smile this much but here you are.

The drive home is different; the feeling of his hand in yours is comforting and yet it also makes you feel anxious. A good type of anxious though.

You talk about school and your plans for the week. It's all so natural and domestic, you've never felt like this before. Not even with Sunghoon. This is the first time you've let yourself be with someone after him and somehow it feels so much more real and authentic. Yeonjun doesn't make you feel as if you need to tone down who you are; you can just be yourself.

When you arrive at your apartment complex, he opens your door and tries best not to stutter while saying goodbye. You laugh and can't even figure out why. You're just so happy.

"See you tomorrow?" He asks shyly once you get out of the car.

"See you tomorrow." You confirm still holding on to his hand.

And then you seal your promise with a kiss...

notes:

I was so excited for this chapter

once again we love a communicative king

had an issue with the format but it's ok now

happy holidays btw

taglist: (32/50)

@estella-novella @poetryforthesad @lisaswifey @angelzforu @ihrtlix @gloriousqueenking @domfikeluva @circus-of-thoughts @conwunder @miniature-tragedy @jeonginplsholdmyhand @sh0dor1 @yourenzoo @tkshairband @realrintaro @castingjinx @amara-mars @hwangrfrnd

[thecommunityfridge]

The Eye Roll

TW: Ageplay, diapers, humiliation, bedwetting, spanking, manipulation

This story was inspired by and costars (with her permission) the wonderful @dearchloe. Go check out her amazing work!

"No, Mister, no way! You have wet the bed five of the last six nights. I am done playing around. Five nights of wet pull-ups in a week means you sleep in the nursery until you can prove you deserve otherwise. No exceptions!" Miss Chloe lectured me as she fought to get me diapered and dressed for bed.

Miss Chloe, the domineering British woman who had shown up at my door one day, declared she was my Nanny, and somehow took over my life like an AB/DL Mary Poppins, wasn't wrong. I had wet the bed five of the last six nights, and I had invoked her prescribed consequence of having to move into my guest room turned nursery until I could prove I could keep my pants dry overnight.

Of course, it didn't matter to Miss Chloe that my accidents had all been her fault.

She had made me drink all that water right before bed every night, because 'I was too dehydrated.' She carefully monitored whether I got out of bed at night, spanking me for getting up before I had 'slept' a full ten hours, because 'I needed to get a good night's rest.'

How was I supposed to keep my pull-up dry when I was spanked every time I made a very necessary midnight run to the plastic potty she kept in her room, the only toilet I was allowed to use?

There was no use in explaining the unfairness of it all to Miss Chloe though. Each time I talked back, I was met with some explanation with infallible logic about how she was right, and I needed to just accept the well-deserved consequences of my actions. It was infuriating.

So, this time, instead of trying to justify my predicament, or talking back as Miss Chloe termed it, I tried a new tactic. I rolled my eyes hard, like a bratty preteen, turned my back on my self-declared Nanny, and said, "Whatever," with as much cool disdain as I could muster.

That was a bad idea.

Miss Chloe immediately rounded on me, getting in front of me, and cutting off any means of escape.

"Oh my! I didn't know my little poppet's eyes were so tired! That was quite the eye roll, Little One!"

I looked at my caretaker confused. Miss Chloe was usually much more in tune with why I did something than this. My eye roll wasn't because I was tired. It was a sign of disrespect and rebellion. It was a manifestation of my frustration with her domineering attitude.

I tried to tell Miss Chloe as much when she immediately cut me off.

"I mean, your eyes ~must~ be tired, because I know that a good little boy like you would never roll your eyes at me on purpose! If that was the case, why, I think you would definitely have to take a trip over Nanny's lap to be reacquainted with Mrs. Spoon!"

I physically swallowed my words. Miss Chloe had proven to be a savant with 'Mrs. Spoon,' and I was not ready to risk her wraith again.

"No! Of course not Miss Chloe, my eyes just must, um, be, very tired! It is bedtime after all!" I responded, backtracking faster than a cat walking in on a room of dogs playing poker.

"That's what I thought, you poor little thing. Let Miss Chloe help with that!"

My Nanny caressed my face as she spoke before placing a hand lightly on my back, leading me into the nursery I had been working so hard to avoid.

"I have just the thing to help those tired, little eyes of yours! Now stay right here!" Miss Chloe directed me, leaving me standing in the middle of the room. Standing there, I couldn't help but feel like the giant changing table, crib, and other furniture was silently standing guard over me as I listened to the warden of my infantile prison rummage through a dresser drawer behind me.

"Found it!" Miss Chloe exclaimed.

I felt her presence approaching behind me before, suddenly, the world went black. Something soft and totally opaque obstructed my vision. I raised my hands to pull the intruding object off my face only to hear as much as feel a loud smack as my hands were batted away.

"Nuh uh, my adorable little poppet. You leave that blindfold on! Those silly little eyes of yours need rest! Covering them and taking a much needed ni-night is the only fix for such worn out little peepers," Miss Chloe's said, her voice circling me as she spoke.

With the blindfold on, I felt so little and vulnerable. Despite this room being in my house for years, it's recent conversion to a nursery made it feel strange and foreign to me. Now, completely blind, I felt more like I was lost in some foreign country than in a room in my own home.

I strained my hearing, trying to catch any details to make me feel more comfortable in the nursery.

From my right, I could hear the soft hiss of the oil diffuser, emitting a soft, lavender scent. Behind me, a light ticking came from the small clock on the wall. From all around me, Miss Chloe's steps sounded soft and muffled by the clean, soft shag carpeting under her feet as she circled me.

"Alright, Little One! Let's get you ready for bed!" Miss Chloe's voice suddenly came from behind me.

Before I could turn, I felt the sharp tug of the shorts and pull-up I was wearing being yanked down from behind me. I felt my cheeks warm as cool air assaulted my exposed groin.

"Step!" Nanny ordered, lightly tapping my right leg.

I complied, lifting my right leg, listening to the crinkle of the pull-up as Miss Chloe removed my foot from my pullies' leg hole.

"Other foot!" Nanny's voice rang out from below me.

Just as before, I raised my leg as Nanny pulled my foot out of my shorts and pull-up. The sound of light rustling of my disposable undergarments my reward for compliance.

"Good job, poppet! You kept your pullies dry all day!" Miss Chloe said with a joy and sincerity in her voice that made her sound more like she was talking to a three-year-old than me, the 30-year-old standing half naked before her.

My blush deepened at her words.

"Thanks, Miss Chloe."

I wished I could see her facial expressions so I could at least guess at what she had in store for me next. Instead, I had to settle for the sharp sound of her hands clapping together.

"Alright, arms up! We're almost ready for jammies!"

With gentle hands, I felt my Nanny lift the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head, careful not to knock off the strip of cloth cutting off my vision. I heard Miss Chloe giggle once I was completely naked.

"There's my big boy! All nakey and ready for jammies!"

I felt Miss Chloe's hand wrap around mine and pull me forward. Hesitantly, but trusting that my self-appointed caregiver wouldn't let me hurt myself on accident, I let myself be led to the changing table that I knew from my memory was our destination.

"Hop on up!" Miss Chloe's voice intoned from beside me once we reached the table.

Delicately, I reached out and felt the soft padding and heard the loud crinkle of the plastic covered mattress set on top of the childish piece of furniture. Carefully, I lifted one leg into the table, only to be greeted by more soft crinkles. More confident, I lifted my second leg, getting my whole naked body carefully placed in the table.

I jumped a little as Miss Chloe's soft hands reached out for me, guiding me into the best position on the soft, cold plastic. With each movement of my body, I was reminded of my embarrassing situation by the crinkle of plastic.

Once I was safely on my back, without saying a word, Miss Chloe went to work.

I heard the soft rustle of fresh padding as she grabbed a diaper from under the changing table. The rustle only got louder as she folded and fluffed it.

I heard the sound of skin-on-skin before I felt it. The gentle slap to the side of my ass beckoned me to lift my naked tushy so Miss Chloe could slide the diaper underneath me. Resigned to my fate, I complied with the silent order, listening to the sound of the diaper sliding on the waterproof mattress on the changing table as the babyish garment was placed underneath me.

Still blind to the world, the next sound I heard was the almost imperceptibly noise of powder falling over my crotch. The sweet smell of talcum told me that Miss Chloe intended for me to stay in this padded monstrosity for at least my prescribed 10 hours of sleepy time tonight.

The diaper rustled again as my Nanny folded it up over my loins. The sound of the tapes being pulled and the light pressure of them being pressed flat signaled the end of my humiliating diapering was near.

"Perfect! A perfectly padded and properly protected little poppet!" Miss Chloe announced as I felt her gentle hands help me down from the changing table. "Now to get the sleepy boy into his jammies!"

I listened as Miss Chloe walked to the dresser pulled something out and returned to me.

As she did, I squeezed my legs together, marvelling at the thick feel of the diaper as well as how noisy it seemed in the otherwise quiet nursery. I didn't have long to examine my embarrassing new underwear before my Nanny returned with what was presumably pajamas.

In the reverse of being undressed, I stepped into what I could feel was a soft, fleece footie sleeper. I followed Miss Chloe's soft but firm instructions as she dressed me without question. Being blind to the world adding to my fear of the caring but dominate woman and made me more compliant.

The last noise as I was dressed was the tell-tale whir as the zipper was pulled up from behind me. The familiar noise signalling I was ready to be tucked into the horrible crib for the next ten hours.

"You're so adorable!" Miss Chloe preened as she guided me to the crib, my diaper whispering out my infantile state with each step.

Miss Chloe helped lift me into the tall piece of furniture. She helped me lay down, covering me with a soft blanket, before handing me what was I knew was a comically large baby bottle.

"Drink up!" my Nanny ordered as I heard her slide the side of the crib back in place, locking it with a sharp click.

I lifted the bottle to my lips and filled my ears with the gentle sucking sound that could only come from someone nursing the rubber teat of a bottle. A soft lullaby started playing from above me, signalling that Miss Chloe had turned on the mobile dangling over the bed.

A new click came from by the door, signalling that Miss Chloe had turned out the lights (a pointless gesture given I was already blindfolded).

"Goodnight, my sweet boy! Rest those tired eyes!" my Nanny called out as she shut the door to the nursery, locking me in.

As I lay suckling my bottle, diapered, blindfolded, and locked away in a crib, I couldn't help but relax. Maybe, I thought to myself as I drifted off to sleep and as I had many times before, Miss Chloe was right, and being put to bed in the nursery wasn't so bad.

[hoeneymilktea]

deciphered ✧ tooru oikawa chapter 4 | renegade nights

Your cousin, Hajime Iwaizumi—whom you haven't seen in a long time, invited you to support him at the largest street racing event in Tokyo. He told you he was a part of the Seijoh Brawlers, one of the notorious top five gangs affiliated with the underground street racing scene. Once he introduced you to his leader, Tooru Oikawa, a.k.a. Cypher—your interest piqued, curiously wanting to understand the true meaning behind his alleged nickname.

✧ pairing — tooru oikawa / afab reader ✧ genre — erotica/smut, action romance, crime romance, dark romance (absolutely no dv/sa), psychological thriller, crime/detective mystery ✧ rating — very explicit, 18+ mdni ✧ chapter word count — 9.6k ✧ content warnings — violence, street racing, references to drugs, explicit sexual content, heavy angst. see below break for chapter specific warnings ↴

author's note — This fanfic is inspired by the beautiful and amazing fanart of Street Racer AU Tooru Oikawa. Artist is @aikk00. disclaimer — I do not condone the romanticization of the yakuza or the reality of gang life as I intended not to portray that kind of interpretation, nor promote the activity of illegal street racing. Do not seek out these types of experiences as this work is just a piece of fiction. Please remember to read at your own risk.

ramen & racing ⇠ renegade nights ⇢ rescuing sly fox

✧ chapter specific content warnings: explicit sexual content, dark themes, degradation, choking, slapping, foreplay, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, overstimulation, lots of dirty talk per usual, a little dubious but very much consensual, everything done here is created with sexual tension please for the love of god, it's lowkey argument sex but lol, goddamn i didn't realize i was the one who wrote this like daaaaamn this shit is nastyyyyy lol

The temperature of the condo decreased as the silence grew, both you and Leia staring at each other with guilt for one another. You felt ashamed for eavesdropping on their conversation while Leia felt disappointed in herself for exposing the news so suddenly. Regardless, none of you were at fault as the situation came unexpectedly with no time to prepare.

Your fingers started to tremble while your body felt like it was sinking deeper and deeper into the couch. Leia paced in front of the window wall anxiously, scratching the back of her head while thinking of ways to explain the situation. Drugs were one thing, but murder was on an entirely different tier of morality—how was she supposed to justify it?

"I'll keep quiet," you murmured out, backing into the corner of the couch. "If you're worried about me going to the police, you don't have to—"

Leia abruptly called your name out, startling you for a bit. She raised her hands up in front of herself, reassuring the situation. "Relax, relax. We're not going to do anything to you."

She stared straight into your eyes and eased her hands down to the couch, touching the cushion before sitting down close to your body. Your heart pounded louder in your chest, unable to clearly hear her attempts to calm you down. In an instant, she grasped both of your hands in between hers, leaning forward into your face.

"I just need you to stay calm," she softly spoke, her silhouette shadowed in the neon lights outside. "Tooru may or may not tell you about what happened, so if he does, don't mention that you heard the news from me."

Her voice was solemn and straight-forward, dealing with the situation in extreme caution while you avoided making eye contact with her. You tried your best to remain calm while you nodded your head in agreement, still slightly shaken by the news.

Suddenly, you both heard two engines roar into the night—the sound of the cars were distinct with a high pitched rotation, knowing exactly it was Oikawa and Kuroo behind the wheels.

You were unable to make a clear judgement in the moment—the first night you met Oikawa, he seemed genuine, showing a side of himself you did not expect someone like him would show. He was honest, gentle and vulnerable with not only you, but with himself as well. Yet tonight, it seemed like he was the complete opposite, not sure if what you perceived him to be earlier was true.

Leia immediately stood up and walked over to the window, peering down at the street filled with vehicles and pedestrians. The familiar white and red cars accelerated loudly beneath the building, their engines echoing up to where you both were.

"They're here. I just saw them pull in." Leia quickly sat back on the couch, acting as nothing happened within the past five minutes.

You sat still in your seat, patiently waiting for what was to come next. It was difficult to think about ways to avoid mentioning the situation to Oikawa without including how you obtained the information, unsure if you should even bring it up in the first place. You thought if it was even worth staying in his condo after learning what he did, wondering if you should just leave the premises instead.

"Leia, I—"

Click Click.

You both whipped your heads around when the door lock went off from behind the couch, interrupting your attempt to converse with Leia one last time.

Your eyes shifted towards the door swinging open while Oikawa stepped in first, covered in scratches, blood stains and dirt scuffs. Punctures, gashes and bloodstains were made into his white t-shirt while his black jeans were defiled and dripping with dirt and dark splashes of a wet substance. His knuckles were bruised and battered while he gripped his hand into a fist, the red marks of his wounds bulging from his skin.

Kuroo was no different—a large mark slashed across his face was covered by a single bandaid with a large bruise on his right arm, purple to the surface. His tank top was severely damaged with slits lacerated into his chest, dried blood and scabs contributing to his injuries.

"Leia, let's go." Kuroo commanded in a calm yet intimidating tone, visibly exhausted from their emergency.

She did not fight his request, simply rising up from the couch and making her way over. Leia nodded before she shot you a concerning stare, waving goodbye in the process.

"I'll text you," she promised, crossing her arms over her chest while she walked backwards. "Keep in mind what I told you about."

When she stepped out of his condo and into the corridor, Kuroo clasped his right palm against Oikawa's before patting each other on the back with the other hand to wish another goodbye. They left the condo quickly while Oikawa closed the door behind them, slowing down his movements before walking towards you.

You didn't say a word to him, much less look at him while he walked over to the kitchen to wash his hands. The tension was apparent; he could sense you were on edge. Oikawa slowly walked over to where you were sitting, hands in his pockets to hide his bruised knuckles.

He called your name softly behind the couch, grabbing your attention. You turned around and instantly looked up to make eye contact with him, noticing a dreadful look on his face. His brown eyes were usually vibrant and saturated in color, but when you looked up into them, they seemed dull and dark, almost greyish in tone. His posture was slumped slightly with his front bangs slicked back to reveal the multiple bruises scattered on his jaw.

"What happened? Are you okay?" You asked, quickly getting up from the couch.

Oikawa did not respond, instead he continued to stare at you with a blank expression, standstill in his posture. He pursed his lips and pulled his right hand out of his pocket, bending over to pick your hand up.

In the corner of your eye, you saw his swollen and contused knuckles, red in color while slowly recovering from the injuries. His hands were cold and shivering when he touched you, desperately trying to intertwine his fingers with yours.

"What happened to you, Tooru?" You looked up at him one more time, inspecting his hands all over. They were normally soft, but when you turned his palms to face up at the ceiling, they were rough and calloused.

He didn't answer again and closed his eyes with a despondent frown, telling everything you needed to know about how he was feeling at the moment.

"Can you tell me what happened?" You repeated one more time with your eyebrows pinched, growing irritated at the neglect of your questions.

"It's best if you didn't know." Oikawa lowered his head as you watched his bangs fall down.

"Can I at least help you clean your wounds, then?" You hovered your hand over several purple bruises and cuts on his arms, inspecting if any of them were infected. Oikawa instantly retracted his arm back from you, sitting down on the couch.

"I can handle them myself." He responded in a deep and irritated tone, obvious that he was not feeling well.

Certain social cues from Oikawa made his point clear to you. His condo fell silent as you did not say anything back, rather standing still in front of him resting on the couch. Your hands fidgeted uncomfortably, looking around the living room to buy yourself some time to process the moment. He pulled out his phone and started to scroll through on it, not saying a word as well.

You thought about Leia's advice, staying calm with him and not mentioning the call with DK earlier. It seemed apparent that he wasn't going to say anything, acknowledging that any action you could do would upset him. Instead, you decided to collect all of your things from the coffee table and walk towards the front of his door, slipping your shoes back on.

Oikawa heard you take off his bomber jacket and place it on the coat stand before unlocking the front door, opening it slightly. He quickly turned around with a saddened frown on his face, gripping the back of the couch cushions.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," you responded, halfway headed out the door. Your cell was in your hand with Iwaizumi's speed-dial open, ready to call. You pressed his number on the screen, placing the phone up to your ear. "It seems like you'd rather be left alone. Don't worry about dropping me off, I'll call Hajime to come pick me up. I'll see you soon, Tooru."

"No," Oikawa jolted up from the couch and ran to the front door, grabbing your hand quickly to pull you back in. You looked at him with the dial tone ringing in your ears, a blank stare resting on your face.

His fingers held yours so delicately, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles while his eyes filled with sorrow, upset that you decided to leave on your own. "I want you to stay."

You pursed your lips, moving them to the left side of your face. It was in Oikawa's favor that Iwaizumi did not pick up his phone, letting his voicemail inbox ring in your ears. You pulled your hand out of his grip to quickly text Iwaizumi a false alarm, letting him know to ignore your call.

You calmly stepped back inside, putting your phone back into your pocket without making eye contact with him. Oikawa placed his hand on the handle of the door and closed it quietly, locking it in place while you took off your shoes again.

"I'm only staying if you tell me what happened to you." You calmly mentioned, setting down your shoes by the door.

"I can't do that, I'm sorry." Oikawa quietly responded, his voice sounding upset like he was about to cry.

You stared at him again without an expression on your face, his whole condo dark and quiet without any light besides the lit candle on the table and the blue neon signs outside the window. Oikawa's eyes were half open with his hair messed up, dried blood still scattered on his t-shirt. He tried to reach his hand out to stroke your cheek, but you shrugged off his attempt.

"Tooru, I don't want to worry all night about why there's blood on your shirt and gashes across your chest while I'm staying here at your place. The least you could do is tell me what happened." You tightened your fist and gritted the back of your teeth, sighing right after.

Yet again, perpetual silence clouded the atmosphere. It almost pained Oikawa to admit why he didn't to tell you the truth, but he knew you deserved to know. Under his breath in the quietest volume possible, he whispered, mustering out all the strength within him.

"I'm afraid if I tell you what happened, you'll think of me differently."

"Why would you assume that?"

"Because I really like you," Oikawa's voice deepened as he tried to reach his hand out to you again, placing his fingers on the side of your cheek. "And I don't want you to hate me."

They said one's eyes are the windows to the soul, yet when you stared deep into Oikawa's, there was nothing there for you to look at. His pupils were pitch black, despite the iridescent lights outside the windows reflecting on his body. With one closer look, you saw your reflection in his eyes, brushed away by his eyelashes blinking after.

"Look, I understand you're afraid to tell me, but I don't like it when secrets are kept, regardless of who you are. I value honesty, and I'm not willing to compromise on that. I know what I deserve, and if you aren't going to be honest with me, I'm just gonna leave."

You raised your voice with an irritated tone, holding onto all of your belongings. Oikawa stopped making eye contact with you, looking down at his feet instead. You waited patiently for a response, but as several seconds of silence passed by without him saying a word, you scoffed and slid your shoes on your feet.

You pushed Oikawa aside, unlocking the door and opening it slightly. Just as you were about to head out, you looked over your shoulder back at him, meeting with his melancholic eyes once again. "I'll be going, Tooru. See you later."

"Wait," Oikawa interrupted, grabbing your wrist.

"I got in a fight with another racer from the Inarizaki Bois. He tried to steal some of our car parts from the tune shop." Oikawa lied, holding tighter to your wrist. "That's why DK and I had to go deal with it. Don't worry about it anymore."

You didn't respond right away, processing his explanation. If you hadn't known the truth, it could have been a believable alibi—yet you knew better, and the fact Oikawa had lied so easily upset you even more than it should have. You closed your eyes and yanked your hand away from Oikawa, not wanting him to touch you anymore.

"Bullshit," you scoffed, shaking your head in absolute disappointment. "I can't believe you just lied straight to my face."

Oikawa stopped breathing for a second, standing still in place. His heart raced faster and faster, knowing you caught him in a lie. "I...I mean—"

"The Nohebi clan," you interrupted him, closing the door behind you. Once the locks clicked, you whispered in a stern tone while keeping distance from him. "You killed all of them. You killed all them and lied straight to my face about it."

Oikawa's eyes grew wide, shocked by your accusation. "H-How, how—?"

"I can see why you guys call DK a loudmouth, because he sure does have one."

You dropped your shoes back on the floor once more and pushed Oikawa out of your direction, making your way over to the other side of his condo, creating distance between you both. You took your phone out and began to text Iwaizumi again, asking if he could pick you up.

"Why did you keep asking me about what happened if you already knew? Why didn't you tell me in the first place?" Oikawa began to walk towards you with a frown on his lips and irritation in his voice.

You looked up from your phone with another expressionless look on your face, noticing he was becoming more aggravated. You could see the frustration and anger in his eyes—although, two sides of the same coin, there was a flush of sorrow and guilt as well.

"I wanted to hear the news directly from you." Your voice remained calm, despite your anger intensifying. "I wanted to give you a chance to explain yourself. Instead, you decided to lie to me."

The cuts on his skin were fresh and stinging, bringing Oikawa to walk over to the kitchen to run his arm under cold water. He opened a free drawer that contained a first aid kit, removing a gauze and some disinfectant from the container for his wounds. Reaching both of his hands behind his neck, he grabbed the back collar of his shirt and pulled it over his head, revealing multiple cuts and bruises on his arms and chest.

"I understand you wanted to know, but it really doesn't involve you." His eyebrows pinched close together, exaggerating the agitated look in his eyes that he didn't even try to mask. He took a towel and ran it under cold water before beginning to wrap his cuts with the gauze, securing it with a bandage.

"Tooru, it involves me one-hundred-percent. You're Hajime's boss, if you end up dragging him along in your business, I'm going to have to deal with the consequences as well." You placed your phone down on the dining table with the half written text message to Iwaizumi left unsent.

Oikawa emerged from the kitchen in just his black jeans and a bandage across his arm, walking towards you. His skin was damp from the wet towel he used to clean the cuts on his chest, swiping his right hand across to flick some water off his body.

He grabbed the pistol resting on the side of his hip and dropped it on the dining table right next to the candle you lit earlier. The rattle from the glass echoed throughout his condo with a long silence followed thereafter. Oikawa looked down at the candle, watching the flame dance between the wick and the oil.

"Then I'll make sure that doesn't happen," Oikawa raised his voice, his eyes still fixated on his hand resting on his pistol. "The less involved, the better the situation will be handled. This is why I didn't want you to know."

He continued to look down at his hands leaning on the table, unable to make eye contact. You took a few steps closer to him, placing your left hand on his right shoulder, watching him flinch slightly as you touched his skin.

"I understand and trust you to make sure it doesn't happen, It's just... did you not trust me enough to keep it a secret?"

Oikawa didn't say a word and kept his head lowered, the wispy bangs on his forehead hanging down below as it covered both of his eyes.

"Tooru, do you trust me?"

Once again, silence fell through the darkened room without a response from him. Oikawa stood up straight and placed both of his hands inside his pockets, turning his body to face you with a dark and gloomy aura surrounding his presence. Your heart pounded through your chest as you looked up into his gaze—his pupils constricted as his eyes enlarged to the point they looked like they were about to pop out of his face.

He took a step closer to you; one at a time with one foot in front of the other. Soft patters and shuffles on the wooden oak floor echoed within the condo until your back slowly pressed up against the wall near the dining table. Oikawa lifted his head up with an expressionless look on his face, feeling his breath tickle on the side of your cheek.

You gazed into his eyes, watching the corners of his mouth quiver, shaded by the hesitated breath he took before staring back at you too. Your bodies were centimeters away from each other, reaching out to rest your fingers on his right bicep covered in a layer of gauze. He winced before relaxing his arm, placing his right hand on the wall above your head with his other situated at the crook of your neck.

While looking at your reflection in his pupils, he lowered his head to kiss you, only to be immediately stopped by your hand pressing up against his chest. His skin was cold to the touch while your fingers trailed down his body, careful to not touch his cuts. While dropping your eyelids, you gazed deep into his eyes and repeated your question one more time, whispering it near his lips.

"Do you trust me?"

"Not yet."

His fingers traced up your neck, slowly brushing against your skin before lightly tilting your chin up with his index finger. His lips hovered over yours, feeling tickles of his breath over your face. He gently moved your head to the right in order to expose the left side of your neck, burying himself in between your collarbone and jaw, planting kisses all over in between.

Oikawa tightened his grip around your throat before immediately smashing his lips onto yours, roughly pushing your head up against the wall. Every time your lips parted for a small breath of air, he would shove his tongue into your mouth, forcing you to taste the dull metal of his tongue piercing as it grazed against your teeth.

He pulled his lips away from yours to plant kisses on your jaw again before he placed his left thumb into your mouth, letting you delicately suck on it while your tongue pressed against the tip of his digit. You felt him drag his thumb against your lip, pulling it down to expose your bottom teeth. He peered at you with his eyes half open, exhaling softly through his mouth.

"Do you trust me?" Oikawa whispered softly against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours.

"I wish I didn't."

His lips touched yours again, slowly and sensually kissing his way down your jaw, neck and collarbone. Tracing his way back up, he roughly kissed your lips one more, moving your head to the side while he cradled your face. Your hands wandered up his chest and around the back of his neck, intertwining your fingers through his hair as he pressed your body up against the wall.

When he pulled away from the kiss, he slid his hand up your top to grasp your right breast, kneading and pinching right through your bra. You roughly took off your clothes one by one, leaving yourself only in your underwear while Oikawa gripped his hand around your throat again, pressing the back of your head against the wall.

You inhaled deeply through your nose as his fingers remained around the sides of your neck, staring intently into his eyes. Your body felt hot against Oikawa's while you both remained still, only the quiet exhales of his breaths on your face could be heard. When you looked down at him with a smirk, you softly spoke a request, knowing exactly what was to come next between you both.

"Go rough this time, I want to feel something different."

Within that second, Oikawa smashed his lips on yours once again with a quiet chuckle under his breath. "As you wish."

His hands wandered throughout your body again—kissing down your lips, neck and chest—all before trailing his tongue down your stomach and crouching his head in between your thighs. He hooked his fingers against the thin elastic of your underwear, pulling them down to spread your legs apart.

He slipped the fabric off your legs as it dangled on your toes, kissing and sucking on your inner thighs, leaving multiple marks on your skin during the process. The pain felt pleasurable, watching him lick and bite all over your thighs made you ache for more, stroking back his brown hair behind his ears.

Sooner or later, he made his way back in between your legs, making sure to bite, kiss and mark every inch of you before starting. The bottom of his tongue piercing touched your skin while Oikawa lifted your left leg up, curling and digging his fingers deeper into your flesh. You moaned as his tongue pressed against you, feeling the tip enter through your pussy in search of your clit.

"Tooru, oh my god," you whispered, gasping for air. Your whole body felt hot while he spread your legs further apart, letting you rest your weight against the wall. All you saw was Oikawa's head buried in between your legs when his tongue flicked at your clit, purposefully pressing his tongue piercing against it.

"Keep still." Oikawa mumbled in between your legs as you ran your fingers through his brown locks. You pushed his bangs back, exposing the view of his face—his eyes closed, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips sucking voraciously on your clit.

Oikawa knew exactly how to pleasure your body as he has done before, except for this time, keeping in mind your request to be rougher. He rolled your clit in between his tongue and the front of his teeth, making your eyes move to the back of your skull, breathing deeply into your lungs while your head pressed against the wall. His lips suctioned around your clit again before licking up any essence dripping down his tongue, feeling your legs tremble while his hands held your body still.

You felt a sharp temperature change deep inside of your core when Oikawa slipped in two fingers, cold as ice, pumping them slowly but surely into you. The tips of his long fingers hit deep into you when he quickly thrusted in and out, feeling yourself clench around him while grabbing the back of his head. Staggered exhales escaped from your mouth while you closed your eyes, feeling him swirl the tip of his tongue around you simultaneously.

"Please, please—fuck!" You interrupted yourself, feeling him roughly suck on your clit again, sending mixed signals of pleasure and pain up to your brain.

His name escaped your lips as you moaned out in pleasure, leaning over to feel your core build up pressure. Oikawa continued to pump his fingers inside of you, gasping for air in between your legs while you rocked your hips back and forth. He guided your body to release, holding you down while the blood rushed to the surface of your skin.

His tongue slowly and sensually explored around your pussy as his fingers plunged deep inside of you, gently scraping the tips of fingers against your g-spot continuously. The feeling kept driving you over the edge, holding on tighter to the back of Oikawa's hair. He moaned in between your legs, quickly giving you a slap to your ass while digging his fingers deeper and deeper into your skin.

With your right leg still on the floor, your toes raised higher and higher until you slammed your hand onto the dining table. The rattle of the glass lit candle and Oikawa's pistol startled you, feeling your heart race faster and faster. A whimper erupted from your throat as you bit your lip and closed your eyes, sliding your head down on the wall.

Your eyes began to water in the corners of your eyes, pleasure overwhelming your body entirely from every one of his touches. No one had ever pleasured you the way Oikawa did— and he wasn't even inside of you yet.

"Fuck, Tooru!" Your head pressed back up into the wall again, closing your eyes shut to moan at the top of your lungs, feeling yourself come all over his fingers.

"Mmm, ahaha." Oikawa lightly chuckled between your legs, feeling the deep vibration of his hum. You kept coming into his mouth, feeling every ounce of yourself drip down your thighs. Oikawa quickened the pace of his thrusts, repeatedly hitting his fingers in a come-hither motion, wringing out the last bit of your essence onto his tongue.

Watching you come aroused Oikawa to the fullest; having you scream his name and squirt from his manipulation caused the bulge in his pants to grow tighter. Every time your thighs closed in on his face while your hands ran through his hair, he couldn't get enough of you, craving every bit of your reactions of pleasure.

You bucked your hips upward and locked your fingers in his hair, hearing your moans echo into the room. He groaned into you again, pushing his fingers deep inside your pussy while his bruised knuckles hit against your thighs. With every thrust, there was a quick pause—and with that, you rode out your first orgasm of the night.

He removed both himself and his fingers from your pussy, releasing a satiated exhale with a pop from his mouth. Your legs continued to tremble, knocking the edge of your knees against each other as Oikawa placed his hands directly on your waist to hold you still. He slowly crouched back up, sliding his hands up your chest to cup your right breast before instantly shoving his wet fingers down your mouth.

"That's right, suck them nice and slow. Good girl," Oikawa reassured, cupping the side of your face as his thumb gently stroked your cheek. "Keep doing that."

You choked and coughed when you felt the pads of his fingertips graze against the back of your throat, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Once he removed them from your mouth, Oikawa placed the same two fingers on his tongue, wrapping his lips around to savor every last bit of your taste.

His eyes became dark, feeling the mood of the atmosphere grow lascivious and carnal between you two. Your skin felt hot and sweltered, regardless of the cold temperature of his condo. Wandering hands grazed up and down bodies while murmurs of silent prayers escaped through lips to satisfy the soul. Oikawa knew exactly what to do to your body—and nothing aroused him more than to see you crumble in his arms, entirely defeated from his touch.

As you caught your breath, Oikawa reached behind your back and pulled your head down, forcing your eyes to stare at the ceiling. Tilting your head to the side, he buried his head into your neck, biting into your shoulder and tasting the sweat of your skin. A hesitated moan from your lips softly echoed into his ears, feeling his dick grind against your thighs.

Your clothes scattered the wooden floors, most of them thrown near the couch, only a few feet over. His aggressive touching and rough biting were elements of his dominant behavior, only fulfilling what you requested from him. Oikawa's hands were always wrapped around the base of your neck, his fingers slightly pinching the sides of your throat.

One action led to another, footsteps moving from the wall to the floor, bodies thrown onto the couch. The cold leather touch shocked you both awake, goosebumps raising on the surface of your skin. Kissing, touching, and moaning continued while hands grasped at the cushions, the night sky and neon lights illuminating from outside.

Oikawa pulled himself away and off your body, standing up from the couch. He towered over you like a building, blood from the cuts on his arm soaking through the gauze wrapped around his bicep. The chain around his neck misaligned, sticking to his chest while he took a deep breath, staring at your naked body down below.

You gazed back up at his body blocking the moonlight from the window wall, slowly sitting up straight. While he began to unbuckle his jeans, you watched his muscles flex, focusing your attention on the traditional Japanese dragon tattoo on his right arm and the sakura flowers floating atop waves of water on his left. He was the epitome of everything you found attractive in a man—tall, slim, muscular and decorated with tattoos.

His jeans and underwear dropped to the floor, slowly slipping one leg out at a time. Oikawa was left naked in his living room just like you; making his way to hover over your body, quickly kissing your lips once more. He wrapped his right hand around the base of his dick, slowly pumping himself up and down before he grabbed the back of your head and forced you close to his hips.

"It's your turn to pleasure me." His voice became deep and demanding, still holding your head in place. "Suck it."

"That's what I'm gonna fucking do," you retorted, placing your right hand on his adonis belt and your left hand on the base of his shaft, slowly pumping it up and down.

"Then hurry up. I'm not going to repeat myself." Oikawa commanded as he collected your hair into his grip, pulling it back when you placed your tongue on the tip of his cock. Gradually, you began to bob your head back and forth, letting your saliva trail all over him.

Oikawa exhaled a staggered groan when he felt your tongue swirl under the head of his dick, flicking it repeatedly from side to side. You kissed the tip quickly before wrapping your lips around it, feeling his shaft fill up your whole mouth, letting it reached the back of your throat.

You closed your eyes, moving both your hand and lips along to a rhythm inside your head. Oikawa watched you from above, absolutely mesmerized by his dick going in and out of your mouth quickly, assisted by your wrists twisting and turning. He let out an apprehended moan, unwilling to admit he was left vulnerable at your disposal.

His quiet grunts of pleasure started to accumulate in the empty room accompanied by the voracious sound of your lips sucking on his dick. He was big; filling up the entirety of your mouth every time his hips thrusted forward. Oikawa cradled the side of your cheek, sliding his left hand right under your ear, holding the back of your head tightly.

"Mmm, fuck yeah." Oikawa moaned, sharply inhaling when the tip of your tongue grazed against the head of his dick. "Suck my cock like the little slut you are."

He started moving his hips forward while he placed both of his hands behind your head, continually slamming himself inside of your mouth as tears rolled down your face. You looked up at him when your eyes became blurry, only the moonlight and his dark silhouette filling up your field of vision. Oikawa pulled his dick out of your mouth, slapping your face with the back of his hand.

"No crying. Take it like a good girl, understand?"

The sting on your cheek started to subside, completely compensated with the rush of adrenaline inside your body. You furrowed your eyebrows up at him, giving a slight head nod before he menacingly smirked down at you, aroused by the sight of your tears dripping down your eyes.

"I understand."

He gripped your cheeks, pinching your cheeks close together before he leaned down close to your ear.

"I'm going to make you beg for me to fuck you." His ominous threat left you shocked as he let go of your cheeks and grabbed the base of his shaft, slapping your tear-stained cheek with his dick. "Open up, baby. Say ahh."

You stuck your tongue out only for him to shove himself back into your mouth, the tip of his dick touching the back of your throat once more. The force of his hips lunging forward caused you to gag, forcing a cough out when your lips touched the base of his shaft. When he pulled out immediately, you gasped for air, coughing out any irritation in your throat as he stroked the side of your cheek, propping his index finger underneath your chin.

"Aw, my poor baby. Can't handle it? Hmm?" He teased, looking down at you with a mischievous smile. You looked him in the eyes as he tapped your cheek twice with two fingers, insinuating a warning before he slapped you across the face. "Too fucking bad."

The sting on your cheek felt refreshing, reshaping any sense of pain into pleasure. Degradation from Oikawa aroused you more than ever, feeling yourself yearn for something that was lacking in your life. It was transformative, sensual and ravenous—something you craved to feel.

He grabbed the base of his shaft and smacked your cheek with his dick, shoving it in your mouth once you willingly stuck your tongue out. Oikawa grasped the top of your throat with his right hand while you sucked his dick again, pinching the sides of your neck and digging his nails into your skin.

"Finally being a good girl now, hmm?" Oikawa's eyebrows raised but kept his eyelids drooped as he smirked down at your face, thrusting his dick repeatedly into your mouth. "Why, do you want me to fuck you?"

You closed your eyes and nodded your head, to which he wiped away the tears on your cheeks with his thumb.

"I want to hear you say it then."

Oikawa pulled out his cock from your mouth before you gasped for air, leaving a small trail of saliva connecting your bottom lip and the tip of his dick. He let go of his grip on your throat and caressed your face with the same hand, swiping his thumb on your soft skin. Your eyes began to sting when you looked up at him, watching his face contort into a wicked grin, shoving his thumb into your mouth.

"Fuck me, please." You mumbled, your voice obstructed from the tip of his thumb grazing over your lips.

"Good girl. Lay on your back and spread your legs open for me." He chuckled ominously, pushing your shoulder down onto the couch.

You did as you were told, laying on your back to spread open your thighs. The tears in your eyes were quickly wiped off with the back of your hand, watching Oikawa crawl onto the couch and place both of his knees onto the couch, straddling over your figure. He stroked his dick up and down with his right hand before grabbing onto the armrest of the couch above your head.

He leaned down, placing a sensual kiss on your lips. "I'm not going to be gentle."

"I never wanted you to be."

You wrapped both of your hands around the back of his neck, moaning into his mouth when you felt the tip of his cock graze your pussy, sliding into you with ease. He filled you up instantly, feeling yourself becoming tighter and tighter as he pushed his way in deeper and deeper. Oikawa placed his left hand on your right breast and kneaded your nipple against his thumb, pressing down and pinching it slightly against his index finger.

You felt his hot breath against your mouth as he kissed your lips, feeling his tongue piercing graze against your teeth. Moaning into his mouth, you instinctively bucked your hips into his.

"Excited now, are we?" He teased in a brash tone, inhaling deeply as he began to move his hips slowly.

"Shut up and fuck me already," you whispered into his ears, placing your index finger on his lips.

You didn't have to tell him twice as he started to thrust into you faster, sliding his dick out entirely before forcefully shoving himself back in. He grabbed onto your shoulders, pulling your body against his while he fucked you roughly. You felt him move in and out of your pussy effortlessly, entirely lubricated by your slick.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Oikawa groaned as he continuously pumped his dick inside of you, the tip of his head kissing your cervix with every thrust. "Your pussy feels so fucking good."

You placed your feet up onto his shoulders before he grabbed onto your ankles, looking down at your body moving synchronously to his own rhythm. He was mesmerized by your breasts bouncing up and down every time his hips collided with yours, feeling his dick sink deeper into you. Oikawa's quiet grunts in your ear drowned out the pulsation of your heart throughout your body, overwhelmed by the motions of his thrusts.

"You're taking my dick so well like a good little slut," Oikawa harshly spoke through his teeth with a low guttural sound in the back of his throat, exhaling a soft chuckle thereafter. He slapped your face with his left hand before grabbing onto your right breast, leaving you gasping for air with the sting on your face lingering.

You began to darkly chuckle, placing your left hand over your cheek. "Oh you're so fucking dea—"

Oikawa choked you with his right hand, tightening his grip around the base of your neck before lowering his face down to your left ear.

"I'm so fucking what now?" He teased, placing kisses and bites along your jaw and down the side of your neck.

He then slipped his other hand underneath your spine, lifting your upper body up from the couch. Oikawa leaned back and sat on his hind legs while you wrapped your right arm around his neck, placing your left hand behind on the armrest. Staggered and shallow breaths escaped your lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, watching your body start to give in.

"Ride me," Oikawa breathed into your mouth before placing a small kiss on your lips. "You do the work now and ride my dick."

You placed both of your hands behind on the armrest of the couch, resting most of your weight on your arms. Your hips began to rock back and forth, bouncing your entire body up and down. He grabbed your waist with both of his hands roughly, controlling your hips to grind against his. His fingers dug deep into the sides of your waist, watching his thumbs massage your skin sensually every time he thrusted into you.

Oikawa guided your body to grind on him, shoving his dick deeper into you with every thrust down. He grunted as you swayed your hips, sliding his right hand off your waist while he reached up behind and grabbed the back of your neck. While digging his fingers into your shoulder, he shot you a smirk before carelessly smashing his lips onto yours.

"Mmm, fuck." He mumbled into your mouth, leaning both of his arms back on the couch cushions. Oikawa threw his head back, closing his eyes and groaning your name as he pushed back his sweaty bangs from his face.

You clung both of your hands onto the back of his neck, locking your fingers together to balance your body onto his. While watching you vigorously grind your hips on his dick, Oikawa admired the view of your body swaying in circles, repeatedly bouncing your ass up and down.

"Fucking ride that cock, baby." Oikawa unabashedly encouraged, slapped your ass hard from behind, causing you to moan louder into his ear.

Every nerve in your body became heightened with blood rushing through your veins, sweat dripping down your back and the feeling of euphoria stimulating your brain. His dick penetrated deep inside you again and again with multiple bite marks across your neck, shoulders and chest accompanying each thrust forward. A breathless moan escaped your lips every time you swayed your hips, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

He wrapped his right arm around your waist, pulling your body closer to his as he sucked on your right nipple. While still riding his dick, you bounced up and down and rocked your hips back and forth in a reckless manner as he struggled to keep his lips on your breasts. You felt his tongue piercing roll around your nipple, roughly suck and licking your skin.

"Fuck, fuck—Tooru!" You cried out, smothering his face into your chest. Oikawa grabbed your waist roughly, digging his calloused fingers into your flesh while rapidly thrusting himself inside of you. He sucked on your nipple one last time before pulling back, exhaling a satiated noise with a smile on his face.

"Slap me." He darkly chuckled, throwing his head back to look up at you. "Slap me right fucking now."

You raised your arm up and smacked his face with the back of your hand, leaving a hard mark on the side of his cheek. Immediately, he returned the favor—slapping your face once again as your head instantly whipped to the side.

"Good girl, always following directions." He smirked up at your face, squinting his eyes and furrowing his eyebrows. "You fucking like that, don't you?"

The pain felt good on your skin, leaving another stinging sensation around your face. You quickly grabbed the base of his jaw and leaned your face close to his, whispering in his ear. "Only from you."

A smile crept on his lips when you shoved his face back, removing your grip on his jaw. Your hands then wandered underneath his arms straight to his back, scratching your nails against his skin, leaving red marks all over the top of his shoulders. Another hitched moan escaped your lips, feeling Oikawa angle your body down for his dick to repeatedly hit your g-spot.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh my god, Tooru—fuck!" You rolled your head back while exhaling out another moan, the sound absolutely ungodly to the ears.

You tried to catch your breath as your eyes dragged above your eyelids, seeing stars and orbs in your vision. The pressure inside of your body started to accumulate, aching for another release from within. Repeated slaps of skin and gasps of air drowned out any noise within the room, only you and Oikawa left alone in the company of one another.

Suddenly, your body reached its peak—releasing a wave of pleasure all throughout your veins, dripping liquid all over your legs and onto his hips. Your fingers dug deeper into his skin, looking up to the ceiling.

"Fucking bitch," he grabbed onto the base of your neck, pulling your face down to meet his. You held onto his wrist, trying your hardest to remove his hand as your brain started to feel the rush of adrenaline. "You got the couch all wet."

All the pain you felt transformed into pleasure, intensifying your arousal. You could not have cared any less for the mess you made, entirely shrouded and overwhelmed with complete ecstasy. Your heartbeat raced all throughout your body, causing your limbs to convulse in overstimulation.

"Just for that, you're getting punished." He released his grip on your neck, letting you take a deep breath afterwards. He slapped your ass hard, motioning for you to get off his body. "Off. Now."

You did as he commanded, lifting your legs off his body and dropping yourself back onto the couch. He walked towards the large window wall, pointing a finger at the skyline.

"I want your hands and body up against the window, now."

You lifted one leg off the couch at a time, slowly making your way over to where he was. Oikawa crossed his arms when you flung your arms around his neck playfully, pulling his ear down to your lips.

"Why don't you do it for me?"

You closed your eyes and leaned your body back before letting out soft playful laughter, only to have your body roughly pushed against the window with both of your hands pinned behind your back. He breathed on the back of your ear, pressing his hips on your ass.

"Shut up," he growled in your ear, holding your head in place with your left cheek smothered on the glass. "Don't move a muscle."

You held in your breath before Oikawa completely let go of your arms, doing as he commanded. He then placed his hand on the crook of your back, pushing you down onto your knees with your cheek still pressed up against the window wall.

"Good girl," he reassured, caressing your skin as he ran a lone finger down your spine. "Now... do you want me to fuck you again?"

You nodded your head before Oikawa leaned over your body, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at your own reflection in the window wall. Your hot skin instantly felt cold pressed against the window, condensation forming around your whole body like a halo. He tucked his head in between the crook of your neck, kissing and biting the remaining skin that was left unmarked from his teeth.

"I want to hear you beg for it."

You saw the bustling street down below with all the large buildings of downtown Tokyo in the distance. The violet sky held the iridescent white moon, shining down on you. Perhaps if you both weren't in a predicament at the moment, it would have been a beautiful night to watch the stars.

Yet there you were, held in the arms of the man you wished you hadn't given your trust so easily to, knees down on the floor and moaning his name. No thoughts ran through your mind, nor any consequences that could have unfolded from your actions. What would have happened if you had left instead of staying and acting upon impulse?

At the very second, you wanted to feel something other than disappointment; you wanted to fuck away the feeling, letting the same man who caused the problem in the first place grant you a different kind of pain instead. You were caught up in the moment, shamefully submissive to your emotions rather than thinking carefully—yet you were not regretful of your decisions one bit, choosing to go back to him every single time.

"Fuck me again." You bit on your lip and pushed your hips back, grinding your ass on his dick. "Fuck me right now, Tooru."

He slapped your ass one more time, sending another rush of blood to the surface of your skin. His hand kept pressing down on your shoulders, lowering your head closer and closer to the floor while your ass remained high in the air, arching your back to fit his preference.

Oikawa leaned down close to your pussy and ran a single finger down the slit, slipping it in before clearing his throat. When one finger inside became two, he spat on your pussy, running his thumb over your clit and massaging his saliva in.

"Atta girl."

Oikawa leaned over and kissed your shoulder, sucking on your skin once again to leave another mark, decorating your body in love bites. You saw him close his eyes in the reflection of the window before he wrapped his right arm around your neck, pulling back on your throat and inhaling your scent. While holding onto forearm and bicep, his lips brushed against the side of your ear, whispering another command.

"Spread your legs." He growled into your ears, slapping his dick against your entrance, pushing the tip of his dick through your slit.

You pressed your forehead against the window wall again and watched your reflection blur from the condensation of your breath fogging up the glass. You stared at yourself first before noticing Oikawa burying his head into the crook of your neck, sucking on your skin as his lips rolled back and forth on your shoulder.

He thrusted himself deep inside you, feeling the tip of his dick kiss the entrance of your cervix instantaneously. You clamped down on his shaft, forcing Oikawa to let out a deep guttural noise in the back of his throat. He began rocking his hips into your ass, feeling the slap of his skin against yours.

You let out a soft hesitated moan, your voice beginning to tremble while your body remained pressed against the cold window wall. His tattooed arms wrapped around your body—one around your neck and the other around your waist, digging his bruised fingers into your skin.

The gauze on his arm was located right across the tail of his dragon tattoo, watching it rub against the bottom of your cheek in the reflection of the window. Dried blood stained through the white, scabbed over and bruised with dark red to the surface. He continued to moan in your ear, thrashing himself all over your body.

"Fuck, baby. I love the way your pussy feels so much," Oikawa mumbled into your ear as he railed himself inside of you continuously. The combined feeling of his dick and the deprivation of oxygen to your brain sent a euphoric feeling to your head, causing your eyes to roll back once more.

You pressed your hands against the window, unable to hold your grip as your palms began to slip down the glass. Oikawa held you close to his body, grabbing onto your waist and pushing himself further inside, feeling every single ounce of his soul slip through his fingertips.

He let go of your hips before placing his left hand on top of yours, intertwining your fingers together on the window wall while condensation formed around the silhouette. You held onto him tightly, squeezing his bruised fingers as it knocked against the wet glass.

A huge wave of desire washed your body as a pleasant and familiar feeling formed, a sense of ephemeral warmth and happiness passing through your mind. It was almost identical to the feeling you felt when you were first with him, only ever experiencing while engaged in sexual activity. You questioned what that feeling was as you locked your fingers with Oikawa's—was it lust or infatuation? Perhaps it could have been love?

"Where do you want me?" He whispered into your ear, pressing his lips against your helix. In one stroke, he railed his cock into your pussy again as you moaned softly.

"Inside," you breathlessly whimpered, staring at him in the window's reflection. "Come inside of me."

"Dirty girl," he softly replied, flexing his bicep around your neck before kissing your cheek. "Always wanting me to fill you up. Your pussy's all mine."

An increasing tension formed in your core again, ready to combust. You felt the pressure gradually work its way up your spine and to your brain, exploding throughout your body as the feeling rushed to your fingertips. You clutched Oikawa's hand, your legs trembling from overstimulation, experiencing your final orgasm for the night.

Instantly, you cried out Oikawa's name against the window wall, moaning at the top of your lungs. You felt him pick up the pace, ramming his hips repeatedly against your ass. His dick throbbed inside of you again, the ridges of his veins scratching up against the walls of your pussy.

"Tooru, I'm coming!" You screamed, throwing your head back to ease his arm's grip around your throat. A sudden rush of cold air infiltrated your lungs, experiencing a duality of senses throughout your body.

Your cheek pressed up against the cold touch of the window provided the perfect contrast to the rising temperature of your body, feeling hot and sweltered from the intensity. Oikawa removed his arm from your neck, grabbing onto your waist as he bucked his hips wildly against your ass.

He whispered sweet nothings into your ear before releasing a loud, vocal groan into your ear. You felt his dick twitch inside of you, depositing multiple loads of his cum deep within your pussy. Continuing to shove himself deeper into you, he guided your hips down on his, grinding your ass up against his dick.

You heard him breathe heavily behind you, slowly guiding your waist up and down his dick while your pussy exploited every last bit of his ejaculate. He reclined back, leaning on his hind legs as he watched his cum spill out of you, dripping an opaque white onto the oak flooring.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." Oikawa praised, spreading your ass apart as he pulled out his cock coated in a mixture of his semen and your essence. He swiped two digits against your dripping pussy, collecting a large sample of his cum onto the tips of his fingers. From behind, Oikawa hooked them against the side of your cheek, smothering the liquid onto your tongue.

"Taste my cum, baby."

He released his grip on your body, removing his fingers from your mouth and your hip. Your hands collapsed to the ground as you swallowed a portion of his cum, feeling the viscosity of his ejaculate trickle down your esophagus. You breathed in deeply, lowering your head while looking down at the bustling traffic on the street.

Your heart was beating way too fast for your body to handle, feeling the pulse pound inside your head. The oak floor felt like it would cave in and collapse underneath you, unable to get a grip with your palms. No thoughts ran through your mind anymore, absolutely exhausted from everything that happened.

Oikawa touched your shoulders, sliding his hands underneath your arms to pull you up off the floor, stabilizing your body. When you were able to stand up on your feet again, your arms flung around his neck, slowly caressing the back of his head and intertwining your fingers with his brown locks. You rested your head on his shoulders, closing your eyes while he held you close.

"You need to rest," he traced his finger along your back, drawing small circles on your skin. Slowly, he pressed his lips against your shoulder, planting small kisses up your jaw and down your neck.

It was hard to keep your eyes open as Oikawa began to lead you to his bed, holding you up from falling over. The condo was still dark, no lights illuminating neither his room or the living area. Sooner or later, your head collided with the soft pillow on the right side of his bed, sliding yourself in between the cold white sheets.

Oikawa tucked you into the bed, pulling the blanket over your naked body. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, sinking straight into the comfort of the mattress, feeling your heartbeat begin to slow down.

You thought about the moments leading up before your encounter with Oikawa, turning your head over to face him.

"Why..." You mustered out quietly, lowering your voice. "Why don't you trust me?"

He caressed his right hand on your cheek, lowering himself to whisper in your ear. "Because I'm scared."

"What are you so afraid of that you can't trust me?" You slowly opened your eyes to Oikawa looking down at you with a solemn expression on his face, not a single muscle in his body moving. He didn't respond, only a harsh emptiness and a cold connection between you two residing in the atmosphere.

Perhaps ignorance was bliss as you desperately tried to find an answer of what he could have been so afraid of—yet all you saw was your own reflection in his eyes.

"I'm scared that you'll end up leaving me."

At that moment, you knew exactly what he reminded you of—a fallen angel, living in the depths of mankind's hell, desperately seeking for a heaven to reclaim.

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[imagines--galore]

Hey I was wondering if you could write a zuko x reader? Y/n is a water bender working for zuko while he travels(set in the first or second season) thank you !!!

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Mentions of injuries and such but nothing too extensive.

A/N: This is a separate entry from my other Zukoxoc fic The Thread of Fate. So please do not confuse them to be the same. Also you have to read between the lines to sense the romance. Like really between the lines. Thank you! Hope you enjoy!

You may have be on the ship because of a debt you owed General Iroh, but it didn't mean you had to like any of the occupants.

And by occupants you meant resident Prince Pouty - Zuko.

You had kept your distance at first, keeping your head down and going about your job, but it didn't take long for your patience to snap and you began to talk back to the Prince. All because he just had to be rude to you and everyone else on the ship.

Sure General Iroh had explained the reason behind his behavior, it still didn't excuse him from being so rude all the time. Not to mention brash.

Your skills as a waterbender came in handy whenever he or any of the other soldiers aboard the ship would return with injuries. The soldiers had been wary of your at first, and you them, but in time they had accepted you as one of their own, and would often joke around with you, or seek out your help with an injury or a bruise.

Prince Zuko, on the other hand, had been entirely too stubborn to allow the enemy, his words, to see to his injuries. It wasn't until he had very nearly collapsed from ignoring his injuries, after several run-ins with the Avatar, that he had allowed you to come close and heal him.

Afterwards he had been somewhat civil towards you, and you him. Though there were times when you would berate him for putting himself in unnecessary danger and only coming to you when the pain would be too much for him to handle. He would justify his actions, saying he could handle it. Iroh was usually the mediator between the two of you, always there to make sure neither of you accidentally harmed the other. You had threatened to toss the Prince overboard on more then one occasion.

Funnily enough, he had never ever mentioned hurting you with his firebending.

Your transition from hostile shipmates, to hostile companions was slow-going and took months for the both of you to actually admit that perhaps you both could get along.

Of course, when you had just come to that realization, Zhao had commandeered Zuko's soldiers and ship, to be used to take over the Northern Water Tribe. Iroh had instantly dismissed you from your post, saying your debt had been paid. He had no desire to see you in the hands of the evil man.

Which was why you were now staying at the small inn where Zuko's ship had made its final port. You had no idea where to go from there. You didn't have any family to go back to. You had been saved by General Iroh out of the goodness of his heart. Which was the reason you had stuck to him with the claim that you owned him a debt.

Truthfully you had just felt safe with him, and now?

Where would you go now?

You were so lost in your thoughts, staring at the small cup of tea in your hand that you very nearly jumped out of your skin when the door to your small room slammed open and General Iroh stumbled in, supporting an unconscious and injured figure at his side.

Your eyes widened at who it was. "Zuko!" Your cup clattered to the floor as you ran to help the General lay the Prince down on your bed. A sharp gasp left your lips as you assessed the damage to his body. Burns, cuts, scraps, bruises, gashes. There were so many of them.

"What happened?" You demanded, even as you quickly began to gather supplies. A bucket of water, an old blanket to rip up for bandages and the bag that contained your own salves and pastes to help with the bruising.

"The pirates. They were in league with Zhao and they blew up the ship with Zuko onboard." The man explained, worry for his nephew evident in his gaze as he watched you do you work. Taking a small knife, you quickly cut open the shirt Zuko wore to assess the damage there.

You worked the entire night.

The more serious injuries were healed with your healing abilities and once you had tired yourself out from that, you began to apply the healing salves to whatever small burns and cuts you could find. You were almost out when your patient began to stir.

"Wh-" You reached out to gently grasp his shoulder to keep him from getting up lest he aggravate his injuries.

"Shh....just lie still. You're alright. You're safe." You told him. Pouring the concoction you had steamed a few moments ago, you held the cup to his lips. "Drink this. It'll help with the pain."

For once Zuko made no complaint, as he raised his head just enough to drink the warm liquid. His face grimaced at the taste but you made sure he drank every last drop.

"Your Uncle has gone to get some food. It's nearly afternoon." Outside the sun was high in the sky. Sleep hung heavy in your eyes as your gaze ran over his face. "Does anything hurt? I was able to cure most of the injuries, but I don't know if I missed something." Worry laced your tone as you fussed over the bandages that were wrapped around his forearm.

He pulled back his arm, only to grasp her hand tightly with his own. You were surprised at the strength behind the grip but you met his gaze with your own as he stared at you with an intensity that had never been there before. At least not the kind where you felt your face growing hot and had you averting your gaze after awhile and clearing your throat. His grip softened, allowing you to slip your fingers from his grasp.

"Thank you Y/N." Well that came as a shock. He had never once thanked you for when you treated him. He must've hit his head really hard on something.

Still you didn't say anything, the blush along your cheeks only intensifying as you nodded and cleared your throat. "It was nothing." But it seemed to mean something to him.

Thankfully Iroh returned just then, with food and provisions, and with the way your stomach had been growling, you all but wolfed down the soup and dumplings.

Of course you couldn't ignore the feeling that someone was watching your every move.

You simply focused on the food, too afraid to meet those intense golden eyes again.

[bridgeraltieri]

My Controversial(?) Scream Opinions

• Scream 5 is the weakest Scream movie because of the characterizations of the new characters. Most of them were either mean for no reason or literally just boring to watch

• Speaking of Scream 5, it makes no sense for Sam to be Billy's kid. She should've been Roman's because he 1) was a whole ass adult before his death 2) had the time before becoming Ghostface to have a kid which Billy really didn't timeline wise 3) also has a close connection to Sidney and was the catalyst for the original Woodsboro massacre

• Past Ghostfaces should stay dead, bringing one back this late into the franchise just feels like lazy fanservice

• Scream 4 has very little impact on the Scream franchise BECAUSE it released so late after the original trilogy and had no real follow up since Scream 5 shifted to a new main character

• Scream 3 doesn't diminish Stu and Billy's actions, yes Roman convinced Billy to kill Maureen but Billy is still the one who chose to go through with it and went a step further with the Woodsboro Massacre (I genuinely don't understand why people call Roman's existence/motive a retcon to Scream 1996)

• Mrs. Loomis is a solid Ghostface. It's a fun reference to Friday the 13th part 1 and the number of kills shouldn't determine how good a Ghostface is. Plus she looked good doing it, her act 3 outfit is incredible

• Tara is the worst member of the Core 4, not going to explain this one because it'd take too

• I have mixed feelings about Richie's siblings avenging him in Scream 6. Mostly because I don't think most people like their sibling enough to justify them murdering people and grooming someone. But I also get that just having Richie's dad would be too similar to Scream 2

That's all I can think of right now, but feel free to share your own ‼️

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

in an interview a while back, vivzie compared stella to beatrice horseman from bojack horseman. if you haven't seen it, beatrice's childhood AND adult life were awful but at the exact same time it's also very clear that nothing about it justified how she treated her son bojack - much like how bojack's own abusive childhood didn't justify the way he treated people. it just explained it.

we'll have to wait and see if viv can actually pull this off (signs point to 'no' atm tbh) but stella being written with this particular comparison explicitly in mind is giving me a little hope she'll at least try.

Hey, Anon! Thanks for the ask!

I’m really glad you brought this up because I had actually been planning a post comparing Beatrice and Stella because I find it kind of fascinating that the writers say Stella is similar to Beatrice Horseman. Because so far they’re really, really, really not.

In fact, the way Stella and Beatrice are introduced and developed as characters are inverses of each other. (Explanation below)

Beatrice is introduced to us as being unambiguously the one in the wrong—she’s so ridiculously abusive towards Bojack, her own son, that it sometime crosses over into pure black comedy. Bojack is clearly the wronged party here, as he was a literal child. He depended on Beatrice for everything and was met with abuse.

Even when Beatrice’s abuse becomes so over-the-top that it’s almost comedic, the audience still understands she’s in the wrong. We understand even though it’s played for black comedy, Bojack was clearly very negatively affected by the abuse, and that her treatment of him was horrific.

During the flashbacks to Bojack’s childhood in earlier episodes, the audience has no further details or information as to why Beatrice would act this way, (not that there’s any excuse regardless) so it seems like there’s not a lot of depth to Beatrice because of this. Season 1 Beatrice Horseman is a very flat character.

But after season 1, the writers of Bojack Horseman continue to develop Beatrice. In the beginning of season 2, we learn that Beatrice is aware of her abuse and how it affected Bojack and, in her own messed up way, tries to apologize to him. She acknowledges that she is a deeply flawed person, and acknowledges her own part in Bojack’s terrible upbringing.

We learn that she regrets the way she acted, that she thinks of herself as being broken, and she sadly admits that Bojack inherited this broken-ness from her.

NONE of this makes the abuse okay for course, but we’re given more insight into her as a person. As Bojack Horseman progresses, the audience is continually given more and more information about Beatrice that explains her in depth. We learn why she acted the way she did, how she coped (and failed to cope) with the intense trauma from her childhood, and how everything that happened to her affected her behavior and outlook on life, and how that in-turn affected Bojack.

The writers develop her from being a flat character to one with depth, one that feels like a real person.

In contrast, the VERY first thing we learn about Stella, before we know anything about her personality, or how she usually talks, or what her relationships are like, is that Stolas cheated on her. She is literally introduced to us as someone who has just been wronged, and presumably, hurt by her husband’s cheating on her.

I don’t think it’s unfair to assume that audiences immediately understand why Stella acts the way she does around Stolas in season 1. Being cheated on sucks. It’s a breech of trust, and extremely hurtful.

Unlike Beatrice, Stella is introduced to us as the wronged party.

Again, that doesn’t mean her actions are warranted or should be excused, but it’s very easy to understand why she is acting the way she is.

Due to this, while Stella still starts as a relatively flat character to b/c we don’t know much about her (other than how she acts directly after being cheated on) she has a lot of potential. The writers could have gone in lots of different directions in her character development.

So naturally, in the first episode of season 2 of Helluva Boss, we learn that Stella strangled puppies as a young child, was always mean to Stolas all the time even before he cheated on her, loves “tormenting” Stolas, and is physically abusive. We learn that since she was a young child she’s always been terrible and evil.

Any potential for some further depth to be added to Stella at the beginning of season 2 is fucking steamrolled by this writing decision.

Since S2E1, The Circus, Stella has been written consistently as being mean, rude, vindictive, and stupid. The audience has been given no further information on her, other than that she has brother who is smarter and than her, and that we should hate her for standing in the way of Stolas and Blitzø’s relationship.

Due to all of this, I have absolutely no idea how HB’s writers could possibly develop Stella to be even 1/8th as nuanced or “real” as Beatrice.

At this point, I think it’s too little too late for Stella’s backstory. Why would I care about her upbringing now? What important bit of information could the writers possibly give us about her past that would make her behavior understandable, or develop her character further??

I’m not saying it’s IMPOSSIBLE. But I can’t think of anything they could do to build upon Stella’s character after they already cemented her so firmly as a one-dimensional villain.

So. To summarize (TLDR)

Beatrice Horseman started out flat, and was developed over time until she felt like a fully realized person.

Stella started out flat, but with the potential to be developed into a more nuanced character.

Instead of being developed more gradually, like Beatrice, starting in season 2, Stella was written to be as evil as possible in all her appearances.

Due to this, the writers have made it incredibly difficult to go back and give Stella a backstory that will matter or explain her behavior in any meaningful way.