#i already improved from repetition one to two so

[coffeeworldsasaki]

Trying tablet weaving again!! The first repetition sucks badly but the second looks so much better yay!

[naybii]

𝓞r 𝓷ah ?

CW: mentions of toxic relationship, forgiveness,mentions of past sex experiences (drunk sex), breast/nipple play, Pet names (gorgeous,good girl,my lady, etc.), cunnilingus, face sitting, unprotected sex (wrap your Willie’s, don’t be silly), consent - (non consensual sex is not valid at all.), reader getting called a slut 1x, squirting, creampies (if there’s more. Tell me.)

A/n: I’m Still in writers block, so if I end up liking it I’ll post it. If not. Then I’m not gonna post this story until I can write an actual good story. Idk thought. I gave up on Freak-tober so Idek if I’ll catch up. This writing style is new and I don’t release that much story’s since I need to improve on my writing.. but if you have advice. Ty :33 I just realized that when you try to enter for a new paragraph with an already written one. It deletes it. It’s so fucking annoying. This is NOT. Proof read and this is an old smut fic, I am so sorry. This might be a little shitty..💔

- the following story does Hold Explicit Content, if you’re a minor please proceed w/ caution -

Synopsis: in the night in Seoul, South Korea. You were at this club. Not very crowded which works with you, you were drinking some alcohol, washing your throat down with it. You were having a good time, listening to the Music that the DJ had been playing. It was gonna be a good night. Though, while you were drinking there was a shadow right above you. Like any other person, you looked up and your night was immediately ruined. Why is he here? And what will happen?

“I finally Found you.” The Black-haired male said. A subtle smirk emerged on his face, you wanted to slap that Look off of him. He’s messed you up enough, why even bother with him? He was such an asshole. he would prioritize himself before you. Which annoyed you. And got in arguments with you, a lot of times. So you had the right to not like him, right?

“San, please get out of my face. I Don't Want to Talk to you.” you tried to be polite to him, not wanting to spark a stupid argument in public. Especially because he will make sure everyone knows that he's the ‘victim’ it had always been like that during your relationship. Oh, you got hit by San, his excuse? ‘She was putting me in danger!’ it was the same thing over and over again. “Oh please y/n, I was the victim in this relationship. You made me feel unloved. I believe I had a right to treat you badly. And besides. Maybe it wouldn't have been like this if you had tried harder to make me happy.” he said boldly. Is he hearing himself?

The audacity for him to say such a stupid comment. “Excuse you? So you’re telling me. If I tried Harder to make you happy, I had to throw my whole life away and act like nothing mattered but you?” You Were Offended, the audacity from him the waltz in and throw your Rocky relationship’s blame on you? “Oh please, y/n. I was the best thing that happened to you. Besides I did do you pretty good in bed.” He added to his already Cocky comment. He cleared his throat and chuckled at you. “Who am I kidding? I make every woman who Im with good.” yeah that's it, your gonna punch that motherfucker in the stomach.

“Quit talking about that San, I don't care about what your stats are with people in your bed. That doesn't mean shit. And no? You weren't the best thing that's happened to me. You're being so cocky and it's so repetitive and annoying, the best thing that has happened to me was leaving you.” you retorted. Who does he think he is? “Come on y/n, don't act like you're some saint too.” he pursed his lips. “That's not what you were saying 1 month ago. Either.” that was right. You had hooked up with him while you two were drunk. It was consensual and protected, but it was still a regret of yours. How could you be so desperate?

“That was a month ago, dipshit. By the way. I didn't say anything.” you said confidently. You remembered about the sex. But not About the words or actions. “Let me recap it for you gorgeous, I had asked You ��Who’s is it?’ and you immediately said, ‘this pussy is yours.’ so it Still is mine, gorgeous.” your jaw Slacked. Wait, what? You don't remember any of that. Of course, you had forgotten. “It was in the heat of the moment, San. I didn't mean it.” you excused yourself. Though you knew damn well you meant everything you had said.

“So, you think I can still have what’s mine?” he asked out of nowhere. It was a Turn-on. Not because it was San. Actually it was because it’s San, but because his straightforwardness was Attractive and enticing to you. “Oh fuck you, San.” you rolled your eyes. “Oh yeah, fuck me.”San said back, snickering. Staring at your ass While you were grabbing your purse, Taking his hand that he had held out in front of you. That hand had quickly snaked to your waist.

That whole way to his apartment, you and San had talked it out. It wasn’t that easy to do since there was some wrongs that both sides of the parties had done. But you guys had ended up talking about it like adults. “I want to apologize, I don’t want to come with any excuses and I just want to start fresh alright? I don’t. Exactly expect you to forgive me instantly since I had messed you up.” You Just listened to him Speak and ramble about, you smiled and Hugged him while you to were walking. “It’s Alright, at least you had acknowledged your wrongs. And I do too.” You glanced over at him. You guys were coming up to this Tall and bougie looking building. You had Assumed it was his apartment complex. Since i mean, he was wealthy and responsible with money.

You guys finally made it to Sans's luxury apartment complex which was around 5 minutes from the club. He rang up the elevator, pressing the button which calls the elevator, he heard the little ping! And the elevator doors swiftly opened, He had made sure you had gotten in first and stepped into the elevator after you. It took a good 20 seconds to get to his floor, the door Sliding open. He grabbed your hand and led you to his Apartments front door. Grabbing the keys, fiddling with it until he got to the right key to open his Door. He placed the key into the keyhole, turning the keys and the door clicked open. Walking you into his humble apartment.

“Welcome home, my lady.” He introduced you to his apartment. It was so much different than the one when you two were together. “Woah.” You said. It was a lot bigger from the outside, but you weren’t complaining. It was clean and Modern apartment. A living room, a 8x8 bathroom. And the bedroom was Clean and comfy looking. “I’m surprised you actually clean it.” You made fun of him. “Well excuse you, y/n. And yes. I do clean it regularly! So don’t doubt in me.” He frowned. And then smiled.

“You need anything to drink, gorgeous?” He asked you, that hot ass smirk on his face. It was Always doing something to you. “No thank you, actually. Yes, just water.” You corrected yourself. “Alright, one water coming up for my lady.” He said so barista-like. “One cup of water for y/n!” He was Sometimes so wholesome. That’s what You genuinely liked about him. “Thank you for my Little order.” You took the water from his hand. “I’m still getting my payment, right?” He Smiled slyly. “Yes, yes you are.” You Sipped on the water, leaving a lipstick mark on the cup. You placed the empty glass onto the marble counter. “Now, can I get that payment?” He asked you in a whisper like tone.

“Yes,San. Yes.” You rolled your eyes in play-annoyance. Come here already then. “Gladly, my lady.” He walked over to you, then swiftly got you off the stool. He placed you onto the Countertop. And stepped back. Taking a look at you, practically undressing you with his eyes. He walked over to you and undid the dress, moving the zipper down your dress, trying to get you out of your pretty dress. “Let’s get you out of these, my love.” He murmured against your neck. Sending a shiver down your Spine. He looked over at you and smiled. “Raise your hips. And there we go.” You complied with him, raising your hips. He slid the dress off your thighs. Letting it fall onto the ground.

“My god.” He murmured, looking at your Beautiful lingerie, was he Infatuated with you. “Red and black Lingerie,huh?” He asked you. Then taking a good look at you. Fuck, the urge, he has the urge to take a photo of you in that Lingerie, fuck you looked sexy.. his Boner quickly Awoke, Before clearing his throat, not wanting to think with His dick, but.. come on. “Is it alright if I take a photo of you In this… god..sexy Outfit?” he asked You Politely, before You gave him the okay. With him Getting permission, he Takes His phone out, before snapping a picture of your beautiful body. “ ‘mazing sweetheart.” He had that Sly Smirk. Fuck it was hot!

“Let’s take this off now.” He muttered as he got to you, his breath hitting your face as he unclasped Your bra. Then sliding it off and letting that fall to the floor too, your Breasts came out of its confines, slightly jiggling from the Tightness of the bra, that was now off, he Looked into your eyes, waiting for you to say something. “I’m okay with you touching me, San.” He nodded, humming in content and then bringing his hand to your breast, And massaging it, kneading it in his right hand and the other with his left, you Were liking the free no-charge. Massage and You sigh. “That feels good.” You hummed, relaxing yourself. “Let’s see if we can get you to Make some noises, yeah?” He Smiled and Took one tit into his mouth, savoring it then sucking onto it glancing up to you, making sure you were okay. “Oh fuck San.” His face just made this all Hotter, yeah, you were absolutely Turned on.

“You like that ,dear?” He Asked you in a slow and seductive manner. Then swirling his Tounge around your Nipple. The other one hardening in an instant. He pulled away and Started to Roll the Sensitive bud between his index and thumb. You arch your back, raising your hips off the Counter. Letting out a series of Soft moans, and he hadn’t Even Penetrated you yet. You might Just cum, untouched. without Even being Fucked. You pursed your lip. “G-God San. Slow down.” You breathe out. He chuckled softly. Continuing to stimulate your Sensitive Bud. “I’m enjoying this, a lot. And your body is telling me so too.” He pointed out your Damp spot on the front of your underwear. “Fuck,that was on accident.” He could obviously see through your blatant lie. “Riiight. “Accident” hm?” He said in air quotes since he knew you so well, that was not on accident.

“Okay. Well maybe it wasn’t on accident, but you turned me on. So is that really my fault san?” You Replied back. “No, it’s not,pretty girl. Just wondering why you said it was an accident.” He glanced over at you. “Be a Good girl and take your underwear off for me.” He demanded and smiled at you. Seeing you from his peripheral, lifting your hips and Shimmying your Hips and legs. Your Underwear falling onto the floor with all of your other clothes. “That’s some pretty legs. Open those legs for me, pretty girl,” you Nodded and immediately opened your legs. Letting San have a look at your pretty Dripping cunt. “You’re soaked, did I turn you on that much?” He Asked you with a Grin on his face. I’m gonna carry you to the Bedroom, is that alright?” He glanced from your pussy to your face. “Yeah, go ahead.” He grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, your ass up in the air. And god, was he strong. “You’re strong, sannie.” You told him. Making him chuckle. “I know what I am, m’lady.” He was so damn cocky. But that’s another attractive thing about him. He opens his door with one hand, then door letting a soft click. He walked into the room, throwing you onto his bed. You let out a Yelp and He closes the door. “I need you to sit on my face so damn bad y/n.” He pleaded. His bulge visible in his pants.

“Then come over here and lay down.” He could hear the smile in your voice. He walked over to the bed and laid down. “I haven’t had dinner so consider you, my dinner.” He smiled, looking at you. “You need help with getting on my face?” He asked you, grinning. “No.” You said sharply, you Shifted on the bed. Getting above his face, straddling his Head, giving him a Good and clear view. You Lower yourself down. And He grabbed your hips, reflexively. Sitting you above his face. His Tounge darting out to taste your Sweet juices. Having your Hands Supporting You, on the headboard. You let out a soft sigh. “Fuck, San.” You Mewl. He Continued to move his tongue through your Folds, the Sounds of explicit Slurping and Squelching Echoed around his rooms align with your moans. “Oh shit, San!” You threw your head back. Grabbing onto his jet black hair. “You’re eating me out So good.” You praised. Riding his face, his Nose stimulating your Clit. You Bit your lip. Riding his Face. And Stuffing it right in his face.

“God, oh my god San.” You Cursed. You already Feel yourself close to cumming. His Tounge was working it’s damn Magic. Flicking against your folds, then Slipping it into your Sweet Pussy, slurping all of the juices. Man were you sweet as hell. “San I’m gonna Cum..” You warned him. He had you ride his face. “Fuck, right there. Oh my goshh.. please..” The combination of pleasure from His nose and tounge was Scrumptious.. and You Started To whimper against your lips. The bed squeaking. “Holy shit I’m cumming!” You Squeal, then Letting go. Grunting and Stiffening. You cried out in pleasure. Shaking uncontrollably as he’s still Eating you out. “Fuck! San please stop!” You go off him. Seeing his face clearly Some cum on his nose and mouth. Dripping down his chin. He sat up and Murmured. Turning you around “Let’s have you taste yourself.” He kissed you. Having you Taste yourself on his Tongue. “Good girl.” He cooed. He got up trying to clearly get his pants off. he Unbuttoned his pants. Fiddling with the zipper. Before laying you down.

“I’m collecting what’s mine.” He Said. Then slipping his Pants Off. you could clearly see the out-line of his cock, through his boxer-briefs. He Slides that off too. His cock coming out stiff, his red, swollen cock head dripping pre-cum. He walked over to you, then positioned you so your legs were Spread open. And facing him. He smirked slyly. And grabbed your hips. Mushroom-tip prodding against your welcoming entrance. “Oh fuck San.” You threw your head back. Before kissing him. “Aww what’s wrong? Is this the first time in forever since you’ve had Dick in you you little Fucking slut?” He murmured Those words into your ear before You Let out a shaken moan.

“Yes, San.. it’s been forever..” you nodded, before He Kissed your Lips. Shutting you up. Before he teasingly Entered the head of his cock in your tight pussy. before You whine for him to put the whole thing in. Before he nodded and slowly pushed Into your Eager and tight Pussy. Before you both let out a Loud moan. “Fuck, y/n your Tight Pussy is so fuckin’ warm and snug.. it’s like it’s made just for my dick.” He thrusted in you, your legs impulsively wrapping his waist, Before he Chuckled. “Don’t want me to move out, hm?” He whispered with a hushed voice. “Fuck, San. faster..” you mewled before He began to slap his hips into you. “Oh shit !” You Moaned out. Tears in your eyes. “San please.. oh fuck !! I’m gonna Squirt around your Fucking cock..” you warned before He Grabbed your shoulders and Slammed into you repeatedly, hitting the Sweet spot in your nice gummy walls, making you see stars before You felt the String in your tummy go snap. Before Your eyes Immediately roll back. a rush of Liquid Gushing out of your pussy and around Sans Cock. You cried Out in Utter pleasure, San then Looked at you while it just kept Coming out. Still pounding you. And He Looked So enamored and Happy. Before He let out a Grunt and murmured. “I’m cumming..” Before he Relentlessly Slammed his hips into yours like his life depends upon it leaving your sensitive Pussy put the Work in, he let out a loud moan. His hips stuttering and Finally Cumming in you, leaving a Mess. He Plopped down onto you. not bothering to pull out while having you in his Arms. panting and Shaking. he kissed your head tenderly. “You did amazing, babe. take Some Rest, my baby.” He said in a hushed voice Before letting you rest, just like the Previous nights you guys had Hooked up. Though. This one would definitely bring you two back.

„ 𝓣he 𝓔nd !! ”

— This was made in oct 2024.. it’s March 2025.. 😭😭 I’ll be brave and post this.. 💔🥀

[imagine-darksiders]

Anon ,this was so beautiful and eloquently written, Golgoth my new BELOVED!

You have a real talent for writing, and I hope you continue to do so! Taking your advice and copying your story so I can put it under a 'read more.'

The original writing prompt

Below was written by Anon, please give it a read if you have the time, it's very good and wholesome!

-----------------------

Of all the universal truths, the inevitable realities that bleed down the bloodline of mankind, this one you know for certain: the strong oppress the weak.

Unfortunately for you, the latter best describes your tribe.

But what can you expect from humble fishers and farmers? From women weavers and little toddling weaners? An army born and raised to conquer and defend? A fortress as formidable as the Cahaya mountain that looms over your little valley?

One wishes it were so in times such as have been.

But wishing does nothing to keep the small band of Vulkars from randomly raiding your village, taking what little harvest is left and leaving with more and more of your people.

Now, with only a fortnight before the first frost, there remains only the dying elderly, the weather-worn mothers with their babes still suckingly their breasts, the frail and feeble children, and you.

The only young virgin to be left behind. 

Since many years ago, fire had burned the right side of your face and neck, claiming both that eye and what beauty you had. None were at fault. It was fate alone that cursed you.

And because of your curse, when you reached marrying age, none would have you.

But as there are two sides to your face, there are two sides to your curse, and in spite of the shame you feel, you are grateful it has spared you the doom of your tribal sisters at the hand of the Vulkars.

Only now it seems a far more despairing doom lies before you. 

For last night, it was agreed among the elders that if the tribe was to survive the winter, much less another Vulkar raid, there was only one hope left, only one who could save them. 

Golgoth, the god of war and blood.

There is not much that you, or anyone else, knows about Golgoth. Your tribe trifles not with higher beings. Only in times of greatest need does your people call upon them, requesting aid in exchange for the offering required. 

Golgoth is no different.

Inscribed in one of the stone tablets that has been preserved through the generations, there is a passage that speaks of how to summon Golgoth. The ancient language is known only by a few elders, and even then, not all is easily understood. But they have interpreted tells that one must give their hand in blood in return for his aid. 

So it was decided that one should travel to the peak of Cahaya to perform the ritual, seeing how the mountain stood nearest to the heavens and its distance from the village would improve its chance of escaping the god’s wrath should he find the sacrifice displeasing.  

And of all those left who could be chosen, it was you. 

Because of course it was. The elderly are too feeble to make the journey, and the children likewise. As for the able-boodied mothers, they have already given themselves to a man and are no longer innocent.

And everyone knows that war lusts most for innocent blood.

“There is no other option,” they told you.

And you know they are right.

It is why you willingly spent the waning hours of darkness repeating the summoning spell, committing the foreign words to memory. 

(Each repetition a strand in the rope wrapping around your neck.)

It is why at daybreak, despite your aged mother’s tearful begging for you, her only daughter, to abandon the task, you turned your back to her.

(She never saw the tear sliding down the pale of your cheek.)

It is why you swallow back your hunger and thirst, pushing yourself to keep pace as you climb higher and higher up the mountain.

(No need to pack provisions when you will not live past dusk.) 

You repeat the weighty words under your breath as you ascend, only for them to be drowned by the howling of the wind. 

You cannot afford to forget them.

You cannot afford to fail. 

Halfway through your journey, the eastern light rises overhead, its heat barely noticeable this high up. The wind hounds you even harder, barking at your heels and biting through your thin skin. Without the thick, white fur of the eshoka covering you from head to foot, you would perish before you could make it to the top.

But make it to the top you do, collapsing face down onto the ground, weary to the bone.

Up here snow has already fallen. Though its powdery flakes cushion your exhausted body, their chill does little to comfort you. At least you do not feel it on your disfigured cheek.

Sleep beckons you, and though you know it seduces you to your death, still it tempts you.

After all, you are destined to die here anyway.

Only when you remember the lives at stake- of your precious mother, of the struggling survivors, of those enslaved and tortured by the Vulkars- only then do you find the strength to sit up and face your fate. The western light hangs just above the horizon before you, painting you in its deep red rays.  

With frostbitten fingers, you remove your mitten and take the jagged knife from your belt.

You must do it.

They are all counting on you. 

There is no other option. 

. . .

 Breathe in and grip the knife.

. . . 

Press the blade to your right palm.

. . .

Hold the icy air in your lungs, and then . . . 

“A-ah! -a-ah . . . nnn-” you stifle your whimper, though there is no one to hear.

The flesh is numb from the cold, but not numb enough. Tears threaten to blur your only seeing eye, but you blink them back and force your eye open, exposing it to the stinging wind. 

You look. The cut trails from your pointer to your wrist. Down runs your bright red lifeforce, dripping onto the snow. 

It’s . . . mesmerizing, in a way.

You take a breath, recentering your focus on the task at hand. Bowing your head, your hair falls over your scarred side like a golden veil. Purple chapped lips utter the powerful words, the swirling wind carrying them to the skies.  "Uzgon Golgoth ver riskle panar." Golgoth, I give my hand for yours.

You hear the wind wailing louder, like a shrill woman shrieking in the air.

"Uzgon Golgoth ver riskle panar."

You lift up your eyes to see ashen clouds blocking out the sun. 

"Uzgon Golgoth ver riskle panar."

You feel colder, though from lack of light or blood loss, you cannot tell. Trepidation grips your heart in its fangs, squeezing what little strength you have from you, until your voice weakens to a whisper. You wish the snow would swallow you whole.

"Uzgon . . . G-golgoth ver- ver riskle . . . p-panar . . ."

Static prickles your skin . . . he is coming.

"Uzg-g-gon-"

A crack of lightning descends a few measures across from you and you shriek, flailing onto your back.

You lie for a moment, stunned from the shock but otherwise unharmed.

Groaning, you push yourself up on your uncut hand, the other clutched close to your chest. You squint with your good eye, your scarred one still hidden beneath your hair. Your vision finally focuses and then . . .

. . . your heart stops. 

Before you stands a being unlike anything you have ever seen before. 

He is as tall as he is wide, with legs and arms thicker than your entire body, and shoulders as broad as two barrels. Most of him is dressed in coal-colored leather and adorned with animal skulls, teeth, and other bones. What is not covered reveals reddish skin.  

Yet it is not his imposing figure that draws your attention, but his bowed head.

Hair as dark as dried blood, thick and shaggy, wraps around his jaw to his ears, while the rest runs down the neck like a mane. His ears are pointier than any humans, though not as pointed as the two bull horns above them. Stranger yet, an animal skull rests atop his crown, its boney jaw attached to his protruding one. The skull’s four large fangs frame his face, while his own mouth sports its own two small tusks.

For all that resembles a human, he feels more beast than man to you.

Meanwhile you feel little more than a twig to be stepped on, or prey to be snatched and torn to shreds. Like prey, a primal part of you believes that if you do not move, he will not see you.

But of course, that sliver of hope is stripped from you as he lifts his head.

His eyes  . . . they are filled with living flames, burning bright like firelight . . . 

 . . .  and they are staring right at you.

You stare back, frozen from fear and the frigid air. You notice not how the wind has dwindled to a soft breeze, nor how your nails dig into your open skin. You are wholly consumed by his otherworldly gaze.

The silence, tense and terrifying, remains untouched until . . .

“Urtz-baugsh-detsh fileen . . .” he mutters, his hushed voice as deep as- no, deeper than thunder.

His speech sounds similar to the ancient tongue you just used, but its meaning is unknown to you, thus you utter nothing back. You are not sure you could even if you wanted to.

The giant god thumps a fist against his chest and speaks again, clearly addressing you, “Bsktly oogn py fnells shishtar Golgoth.”

Again, you give no reply.

Bushy brows furrow for a moment, then his eyes widen. He shakes his head and mumbles more ancient words, perhaps with an . . . annoyed tone?

“Forgive me,” he speaks, now in your language, yet you flinch, “you spake in that tongue, I assumed you knew it. I see I was wrong. Do you understand now?”

You find your voice still has not returned, so you nod. 

Golgoth’s eyes brighten at that, his features relaxing. In fact, it almost appears as though he is . . . smiling. It's . . . not as malicious as you imagined a smile from the god of war and death would be.

“AH! Very good! I shall speak it again,” he says, thumping a fist once more, his chest bulging forward. “HARK! Here stands I, Golgoth.” 

You are well aware of that, though part of you seems hesitant to believe that this is the real Golgoth.

For surely the real Golgoth, god of war and blood, would scowl and demand you bend to his will with a bellowing voice that would blast you to dust. 

Yet . . . this Golgoth does nothing but stand patiently, awaiting a reply or reaction. 

When both your silence and awe-struck terror do not change, he prompts you with, “Who stands before me?” Then stroking his beard, he adds thoughtfully, “Though should I say lies before me . . .” 

You know not why such a being cares to know your name, but you dare not refuse him. 

You swallow before weakly stuttering it.

He repeats the name, your name, his voice as soft as a mother shushing her newborn.

His mouth widens again, and this time you are certain it is a real, genuine smile. “Do you freely give your hand to me? Do you receive mine in return?”

Your heart quivers, yet you cannot have him doubt your sincerity. You stiffly move to sit on your knees, shifting the snow. You present your bloody blue fingertips. 

“I do,” you quietly, but steadily reply.

His brows raise. “AH HA! I see you have already prepared your hand for binding.” Before you can panic over having misstepped, he continues, “I too am just as eager, for long have I awaited this day.”

Golgoth takes one hulking step forward and bends his knee to the earth, like a great tree falling in the forest. You tremble under his focus, his brow pinched as he strokes his beard again. You hold your breath. 

“Hm, you are quite small. You cannot become bigger, can you?” he asks.

You blink. “n….no?”

“Then I shall become smaller,” he decides, closing his eyes.

And then . . . to your complete and utter bafflement . . . Golgoth begins to shrink, his mammoth body growing smaller and smaller, until he’s but the size of a large man. Though his new height does not make him any less intimidating, you do feel less like you are about to be squashed.

He opens his eyes again, the flames inside dancing with mirth and mischief. “You did not know I could do that, did you?”

You snap your mouth shut and dip your head, abashed.

“HA! In time, you will find all that I can do.” he says, but as mysterious as his words are, you pay them no mind.

Your attention is drawn to his hands (both still twice the size of yours). With the tip of his right finger, sharper than a talon, he presses into the flesh of his other palm. Tough, leathery skin, like the bark of a tree, punctures under its deadly point. 

Out oozes his blood, thicker than yours and bright as sickle wine. Distracted by the sight, you do not see Golgoth reaching for your wounded hand. You yelp in surprise, then bite your tongue, forcing yourself not to pull away. 

Though you doubt you could; his grip is gentler than you’d expected, but firm enough you cannot escape.

“One drop. One soul. One eternity,” he rumbles, holding his fist over yours.

You watch helplessly as a drop of his blood falls into your open flesh.

First you gasp . . . 

. . . and then you scream.

Fire is no stranger to you. You will never forget the feel of its flames on your face. But this . . . this fire viciously racing through your veins, melting your muscles, searing your sinews, burning within your very bones . . . 

This is not a fire you will survive. 

Yet your heart continues to pump wildly, mixing his boiling blood with your own, drowning you in wave after wave of agony. 

You need it to consume you. 

You need the fire to turn you to ash. 

You need it to end.

And end it does, though slowly, settling like the deep water after a storm. The fire ebbs and flows, until it fades to a candle’s flame, and you are left on the shore, struggling to breathe in raw, ragged breaths.

But you are breathing. 

You are alive.

And you are no longer cold. 

“Finally . . .” sighs Golgoth, his voice vibrating through your whole being, bringing back your awareness.

Though your blood still simmers, you regain your bearings and look up at him. His fiery eyes flicker in time with your heartbeat. Their glow burns with an emotion so raw and passionate, you must be imagining it.

“Now your blood is mine,” he hums, the seal of your fate.“You are mine.”

Your heart quickens, which you attribute to fear . . . until you feel the curve of your ears warming. 

You glance down, thankful he cannot see them. You do not dwell on the cause, however, as your gaze lands on your cut. The wound . . . it has closed, and while still smeared with blood, it is little more than a pink line that will surely scar.

You will mind it not, for what harm is there in one more?

Curious to see if Golgoth’s wound has healed likewise, you look just in time to catch him . . . well . . .

. . . licking it. 

He notices your gaze and freezes, his broad, bovine-like tongue stuck to his hand like a youngling tasting an icicle. Eyes wide, your ears heat once more. Gologth pulls back his tongue and gives you a cheeky grin, his lidded eyes burning a deeper orange.

“Do you wish me to lick yours as well?” he asks and- oh, oh dear!

Your cheeks, they flush fiercely at that, but you just as aggressively shake your head no.

Golgoth throws his head back and bellows out with booming laughter, causing you to recoil as much as you can with your hand still in his.

“HA! You are a shy one!” he exclaims, grinning from pointed ear to pointed ear. He leans in close, the scent of blood strengthens from distinct to staggering.  A hand starts to reach for your face. “I like that you are shy.”

His words are lost on you, for the moment the tip of his claws brush the hair covering your scar, you jerk your head away, eyes squeezed shut.

“W-wait! Please . . . . do not touch . . .” you plead.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” Golgoth speaks plainly. “I will not harm you.”

But for the first time since you’ve met him, harm is not what you fear. 

You pray that he will pry no further and allow you to make your request before he has a chance to see your curse, but you do not know who to pray to, and it is too late to learn.

His hand reaches again. You resist not, for you have not the strength, nor the wish to offend. He turns your face toward him once more. You keep your eyes shut, bracing yourself as you feel him push your hair back. His claws cradle your head with care.

“AH! I see you have a scar.” He observes, though without disdain in his tone. His thumb ghosts over your scarred flesh, sending a shiver through you. You purse your lips, awaiting his verdict.

“And what a beautiful scar it is,” he says.

Or so you hear him say, but you must have heard wrong. No one would ever deem your scar beautiful, much less a god like him. But . . .  just to make sure . . .

Your eyelids flutter, peering up at him.

“You . . . you find it . . . beautiful?”

“I do.” he affirms confidently, then tilts his head. “Do you not find it so?”

“I . . . I do not.” You glance down at the snow as shameful memories surface. “All have found it gross or . . . hideous to look upon . . .”

“HA! All are wrong!” Golgoth proclaims with gusto. 

He tilts your head up until you meet his fiery gaze. It flares intensely, yet with a warmth that reminds you of summer nights, when your tribe dances around the great blaze. Ever since you felt it’s ruthless ire you have kept your distance, too afraid to step near. 

But for the first time . . .

. . . you do not fear the flame.

“Your scar is full of beauty and bravery,” says Golgoth, staring at you not with disgust or pity, but adoration. “Burning fire could not consume you, and though it has made its claim, you live on, for your heart is strong. It beats like the heart of a warrior.” 

He leans closer still, his breath warming the air between you. “Wear your scar proudly, my soosha.”

His words whirlwind around you, bewildering and overwhelming you, but it is the last word that confuses you most.

“Soosha?” you repeat, oblivious to how he watches it fall from your lips. “What . . . what does that mean?”

Golgoth’s smile quirks in a queer manner. “In your tongue it means wife.”

For one blissful breath, you blink ignorantly at him.

Only for your next breath to be whisked out of you as the word sinks like stone into your stomach. 

“You . . . you mean to say that I . . . I- I am your wife?” you barely whisper.

But Golgoth’s words ring loud, proud, and with horrifying honesty. “You are, have no doubt! 

“I- I don’t understand. H-how? When?!” You stammer, your hands shaking.

“By blood binding,” he answers, his smile dropping, “but a moment ago.”

Staring at the snow, your vision swims as bile builds within your throat. You are unable to breathe, much less believe it to be true. Trying to make sense of this revelation only increases the nauseating horror enveloping you.

“You were not aware of what you were doing, were you?”

You glance up to see him frowning at you.

Fear seizes your tongue, spurring it to fly for its life. “I- I was not!  I- . . . I- I thought . . . the inscription said that to ask for your hand was to ask for your aid. I did not know that . . . what it truly meant was . . . I-I . . . I am sorry, Golgoth. P-please do not be angry with me!” you beg, bowing your head, expecting the hand still cradling it to crush it in displeasure.

Instead it withdraws, slowly and carefully, and though greatly relieved, something quite small inside you misses its touch.

“I am not angry,” he says calmly, the warmth of his voice reduced to cold, quiet embers. “I am disappointed.”

Your surprise is so great, you find yourself meekly inquiring, “Why? I-if I may ask . . .”

“I left that tablet with your people thousands of moons ago, when you still spoke that tongue,” Golgoth replies, his tone revealing how unspeakably ancient he is. “I offered my hand to any of your kind that would take it. My desire was that the one to give her hand in return would do so freely of her own choice.”

“But . . . you are a god? Could you not take her by force?” you dare prod further.

Golgoth stares solemnly at his hand. “Yes, I could take her. I am used to taking. And I watch over those who take. They take life, take blood, take earth and rock and river.” He squeezes his fist until his knuckles give out a sickening crunch. “But this is the one thing I wish not to take. It must be given, and it must be given willingly and knowingly.”

His smoldering eyes turn to you, then shut. “You were willing . . . but you did not know.”

“I know it now!” you exclaim, desperately thrusting your open palms at him. “I willingly give you my hand if . . . i-if you will fulfill my request.”

While you know you have no bargaining power, it is the only way you can still save your people.

Golgoth takes your wounded hand in his . . . yet his eyes open not.

“You have already given your hand,” he says, tracing your cut as if it were an insect's wing. He clasps your hand between his. “Nothing can break the binding, save only your death.”

But your death matters not, nor your fate as Golgoth’s wife.

Only the death of your people matters.

And there is nothing more you can do.

You have failed.

Bitterness and shame well up within your chest, and when your eye begins to mist, you close it tight to keep tear from escaping. 

But as you bite your treacherously trembling lip, you flinch, feeling a hand against your unmarred cheek. A thumb presses under your eye until it opens. Your sorrow seeps from it and is kindly swept away by the same thumb.

Though your sight is distorted, the warm smile on his face shines as bright as the sun.

“But I will hear your request, and fulfill it as I am able,” says Golgoth.

Your mouth opens, yet you are speechless. 

He asks for nothing in return, and he owes you no debt. You are nothing but a mortal who unknowingly bound herself to a god. His offer is beyond generous.

But your marveling at such a miracle can wait, you must not press his patience. 

You lick your cracked lips, your voice wet and wavering. “I-its . . . it’s my- my tribe. We have been raided and- and captured by the Vulkars. Those left cannot survive if they are not destroyed. Please . . . destroy the Vulkars and free my people. That . . . that is my request.”

“And so it shall be done!” he nods, firm and full of fire once more.

Golgoth lets you go and reaches for his neck. He unclasps a cape from his shoulders, one you had not noticed in your observation of him. Though the thick, black canvas looks more like a hut cover than clothing.

You stiffen as he reaches behind you and pulls the cape around you. Hunching into yourself, you suspect he’s going to cover you, but all he does is set it on your shoulders. You grab it, pulling it to cover your front.

It’s almost uncomfortably heavy, and it smells horrendous, but . . . inside, that strange small something finds the gesture a little . . . sweet. 

Golgoth groans, heaving himself to his feet. You grip your new blanket as you watch him grow back to his gargantuan height. But the fear you feel is not nearly as strong as before.

“Stay here and rest,” says Golgoth, stretching his neck taut on either side, the vertebrae popping unpleasantly.  “I shall be back before sunrise.”

And with that he walks away, his footsteps stomping snow and stone in his wake. Staring at his back, you find your voice, though it is so soft, you fear the wind will carry it away before he hears. 

“Golgoth . . .”

Yet he stops, turning his questioning glance over his shoulder. You stare at the ground, twisting the fabric between your fingers. You speak shyly, but sincerely.

“You have my gratitude . . . .” 

“HA! I have no need for it.” he smirks, thumping a fist against his chest. “I will do anything for my soosha.” 

He then turns and marches down the mountain, leaving you with that bold declaration of devotion . . . and mixed feelings.

Gratitude and relief, are the strongest of them. Though you have no reason to be, you are confident that Gologth will carry out his word. 

Your people, your family . . . they will be saved. 

They will survive the winter. 

You have succeeded.

Yet, it has come with a cost. 

A cost you know not the extent of yet.

Fear of the future that lies before you weighs as heavy within you as the weariness of your journey. Seeking comfort, or perhaps consolidation, you consider his treatment of you thus far. 

Of his careful caresses, his gentle gestures, his . . . other expressions of emotions, and most especially of his address of your scarred appearance.

Tenderly, you touch the pink, uneven flesh, the soft color bleeding over to your cheek.

No one- neither friend or enemy- has ever called it beautiful.

No one that is except Golgoth, god of war and blood, and . . . . 

 . . . and your husband.

[anipgarden]

What to Do Once Things Are Planted?

This is my seventh post in a series I’ll be making on how to increase biodiversity on a budget! I’m not an expert--just an enthusiast--but I hope something you find here helps! 

So you’ve gotten started on making a garden to boost biodiversity! 10/10, excellent work! So, now what?

First, you’ll need to keep watering the plants--especially if you’re going through a dry season. Native plants will be more acclimated to your area’s seasonal weather, but they’ll need a helping hand while they’re getting established--especially if you’re starting with young, tender seedlings. With that in mind, if you accidentally skip out on crucial watering days, don't panic! There's been tons of times where I haven't watered for an entire summer and had perennials come back the next spring! Even this year, during a heatwave, I completely did not water my swamp milkweeds, but they're already popping back up! You may also need to go in and weed, especially if you’re seeing invasive species popping up in the garden. Invasives are no good--if you do anything, do your best to get those out as effectively and safely as possible!

If you’re needing to maintain your shrubs in spring and summer, double check to make sure there are no active bird or insect nests within them. If it’s possible to wait until later to cut your shrubs, it could be extremely beneficial.

When fall and winter come around and your plants begin to die back, don’t cut them away if you can! Many insects overwinter in the plant stems left behind as perennials die back to the roots. In addition, birds will use seed heads as a source of food over the winter. Try not to clean things up until late winter/early spring, when other food sources are beginning to come back and things are growing again. By then, the insects should be waking up and leaving the plant stems as well.

However, don’t let this discourage you from collecting seeds! Collecting seed from your plants is a great way to continue gardening at low cost, as well as making friends and encouraging others to garden by trading seeds or offering them as gifts. If you're in an area where you do need to cut back, this is a great opportunity to collect the seeds and save them for the future. You could also cut back what’s dying in the front yard and keep things to overwinter in the backyard. Some overwintering habitat is better than no overwintering habitat.

Want to know how to collect seeds from specific plants? I've found YouTube to be a great source of info for this! Knowing what you're doing and when is key to getting a viable harvest.

As your mulch begins to break down, you’ll need to keep adding more to top it off, if you can. It can get a bit repetitive, but no worries--the mulch breaking down means your soil is improving! 

If possible, add to your garden! Expand, add in new things, and keep encouraging the growth of native plants. If you couldn’t add that water feature in year one, see if you can in year two! New interest in birds? Add a birdhouse, or more bird feeders. Loving the butterflies? Add plenty more nectar-rich plants, or do more research into what they lay their eggs on! Want more color? See what else you can add in! Came into some new pots to expand your flowerpot garden with? Find cool native plants to put in them! I always encourage people to start small and then expand over time, as opposed to starting big and getting overwhelmed.

Keep learning and observing native species of birds, insects, mammals, etc. See what’s coming to your yard now, and look into how you can improve things more for them on your budget. If you aren’t seeing what you were hoping, see if there’s other actions you can take that’ll attract what you’re hoping to see in your backyard habitat. Knowing more about the world around you makes it easier to know how to help the world around you. Talk to others about what you’re doing, the changes you’ve made, and the results you’ve seen! Curious neighbors? Work friends? Your closest homies? Your family? All fair game! You just might be the one who gets someone else interested in making their space a habitat for local wildlife!

That’s the end of this post! My next post is gonna be about the secret Other Thing you can do to help biodiversity--tackling invasives! Until then, I hope this advice was helpful! Feel free to reply with any questions, your success stories, or anything you think I may have forgotten to add in!

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 17

Warnings: angst, mentions of unrequited love, mentions of cheating, underaged drinking and drug consumption, break ups, mentions of injuries, mentions of pregnancy (it's just a joke)

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler, Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: You spend the night before your birthday with Steve and the same night, it takes a turn for him.

Word count: 9.5k

A/N: This chapter made me realize that my writing needs way more improvement, my words are too repetitive, please ignore. Also big shoutout to @hellfire--cult for throwing some really really amazing ideas at me, thank you, love. I appreciate you! @mysticmunson my angel, thank you for always helping me 🤍

series masterlist

-

You missed the warm nights, the transition from winter to spring and spring to summer, where every day it gets warmer and warmer. The sun gets brighter and the flowers adorn every field that you pass by. 

It’s only the end of April but it’s already so warm, this night especially. The breeze you feel on your skin is one that reminds you of a chilly summer night. 

Your eyes are closed, you are leaning back against the railing as you sit outside on your porch steps, waiting for him to come. A year or two ago, you would have waited for him in your room, you would have waited for him to climb through your window and surprise you with a present. 

This year, everything is different. 

You don’t want him to sneak into your room, that would only bring up painful memories again and you have had enough of those in the past few weeks, you know that seeing him tonight, will only make things worse. Still, you can’t help but feel excited to see him. 

You shouldn’t feel this way, you really shouldn’t. 

But you miss him, you miss what you used to have. 

The sound of a car pulling up and the bright headlights make you open your eyes. 

This feels so wrong. To let him back into your life so easily is such a huge mistake. You don’t know what prompted you to say yes to him when he asked you if he could come over the night before your birthday. Maybe it was the wish to uphold the tradition you have had since you were kids or maybe, it was your stupid heart that made you say yes. 

You should have said yes to Eddie when he had asked if you wanted to see a movie with him tonight. You shouldn’t have said yes to him. 

He gets out of the car and his eyes instantly lock with yours, his brows furrow, he is probably wondering why you are outside. There is something in his hand, you can’t make out what it is. 

“Hey,” he says when he walks towards you. 

You force a smile, to match the one on his face. 

“Hi Steve.”

The gravel crunches beneath his nike’s and he looks down, breaking eye contact for a moment. 

You eye him in curiosity. 

Isn’t this weird? 

To do this when he is with someone else? 

Does she know where he is, right now? 

He sits down opposite of you, leaning his back against the other railing. His breathing is a little unsteady and he clears his throat. The porch light is the only thing lighting up the area around you, it’s very dim but you still notice the flushed cheeks. 

“How are you?” He asks, nervously. 

Only as you hear the shakiness in his voice, do you realize just how nervous he actually is. 

You don’t know this side of Steve – you don’t remember ever seeing this side of him. The Steve you once knew was always full of himself, confident, arrogant and cocky. Never nervous. 

You haven’t talked to him in a while. The notes you have passed to each other in class don’t count. 

“I’m okay,” you say as you pull your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around them, “how are you?”

He hesitates and his eyes stray away for a few seconds, he looks down at your hands, staring at your rings. 

You notice the dark circles under his eyes and the way his features are etched with something that reminds you of something that you always used to see on your face whenever you looked at your reflection in the mirror, when he was seeing Nancy. 

“I-I uh, I’m good.” 

It’s a lie.

He usually used to avoid looking into your eyes whenever he lied to you. 

“Are you?” You ask before you can stop the words from spilling. 

When he looks up and you see his eyes again, you notice the frustration behind them. He wears the same look that you used to wear after every fight with him. 

Did they fight? Did she make him cry the way he made you cry? Is that why his eyes are glassy and red rimmed? 

He only nods. 

“It’s almost midnight.”

“Yeah,” you whisper and hold eye contact. 

You hate your birthday, god, you hate it so much. If you could, you would sleep the day away but you can’t.

“What’s that?” You ask, gesturing to the tiny box in his hand, the one he hasn’t let go of since he came here. 

He hesitates when he follows your gaze and looks down at the object in his hand. 

“Uh, it’s your birthday present.”

You raise your brows and you ignore the way your stomach flips at his words. 

“Oh?”

He nods and then scoots closer to you but he doesn’t hand it to you yet. He still holds it tightly. 

“What’s in there?” 

A smile tugs at his lips, “never the patient one, are you?” 

A breathy chuckle falls from your lips and you shake your head, “you know me.” 

His eyes skim over your face, your soft features and the light in your eyes that never died, even after everything he had put you through, the light is still shining brightly even when you can’t see it. 

“Yeah, I do,” he whispers. 

He places his palm on the ground beside you, he is closer now, closer than he had been in a while. His nike’s bump against your black converse, his fingertips graze against yours and the urge to feel his whole hand on top of yours is so strong. 

You look down, eying his knuckles, eyeing the scar. You know where it came from, you still ask, “what’s that?” 

He furrows his brows at your question, then follows your gaze to see what you are looking at. 

“Oh,” he mumbles. 

“I know where you got it from but, how did it happen?” 

You avoid his eyes this time. You never thanked him for what he did. It’s something that 

Steve doesn’t even expect from you, it’s not something you have to thank him for. 

He scratches the back of his neck, “uh well, apparently Ray is a fan of pocket knives,” he laughs. 

Your eyes widen and you stare at him in shock as your heart leaps to your throat. 

“What?” You gasp. 

Eddie told you some things but you know that he left a lot of details out. He didn’t want you to worry. 

Fear flashes in your features and you instinctively reach for his hand. The thought that something worse could have happened to him and to Eddie makes you feel so guilty. 

“It’s fine,” he whispers.

The worry in your eyes makes his heart flutter in his chest. 

You still care about him, you always will. He looks down at your hand, your touch is making his skin tingle and a smile tugs at his lips when he remembers all the times he was able to just take your hand and hold it without a second thought, without having to worry about anything, without having to feel guilty, without feeling like he’s doing some forbidden thing. 

He can’t just hold your hand now, not anymore. 

Not even when she – “No, it’s not! Something worse could’ve happened, Steve–”

“But it didn’t,” he says, interrupting you, “nothing happened to us. We’re fine. Please just, let’s drop this, y/n.”

“But–”

“No buts, I’m not here to talk about that asshole. What’s done is done, let’s leave it in the past, okay?”

Oh, how easy everything could be if that was possible. 

You begrudgingly drop the subject when he keeps interrupting you, not wanting to talk about it. When you try to pull your hand away, he stops you and holds it tighter – you let him. 

You lean your head back and take a good look at him. His hair has grown longer and there is a kindness in his eyes that had been missing in the last few months of your relationship. His touch feels more gentle, his presence makes you feel calm instead of anxious, he seems like the old Steve – the one who still loved you. 

She brought him back, she did something that you could not do. 

You weren’t good enough for that – he did not want to change for you. 

“Does she know that you’re here?”

He tenses up a little and for a moment, he frowns. 

“She wouldn’t care.”

What?

“She wouldn’t care that you’re spending time with your ex girlfriend?” You ask, confused. 

“No,” he says, cringing at the word ‘ex girlfriend’.

You don’t believe it, you can’t believe it, especially not after the way she talked about you after he had dumped you for her. Clearly, she can’t stand you and the thought of her not having a problem with her boyfriend hanging out with you, just seems a little too weird to you.

You would have a problem with that. 

“Okay,” you mumble under your breath. 

“Is everything okay between the two of you?” You ask, still looking down to hide your eyeroll. You don’t really want to hear him talk about his relationship but, you can’t help but feel a little curious. You know that the pain in his eyes isn’t for nothing. 

He hesitates and he tenses up, yet again. You feel it in his touch. 

“Yeah.”

“I know when you’re lying,” you mumble, glancing up at him to see him looking away. 

The chuckle that falls from his lips, isn’t one of amusement. He glances up at the darkening sky.

“I-I just, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“What do you mean?” You frown. 

As he looks back into your eyes, he sees everything that he is looking for – everything that he can never find in her eyes. 

“She is not you.”

For a moment, your heart stops beating, your blood stops pumping, the world stops spinning. Everything stops. 

How can he say such a thing? 

“She’s not the one that I want.”

How can he say this to you after he had told you that he fell in love with her? That he never loved you? 

How can he say this when he looks so happy with her? 

How can he say this when you had asked him to let you go? 

“Steve.”

“I know,” he whispers, frowning at the ground, “I know, I’m sorry. I-I made a mistake and I will regret it for the rest of my life.”

You hate the way your heart flutters despite the pain it’s in, right now. 

You hate the way you wonder about how things could’ve been if you never let him go so easily. 

You hate the way you feel so little again, the way you just let his words get to you, the way they are able to make you feel sad instead of angry. 

You feel like a fool again, the same fool who forgave him over and over again. 

“We both did.” Those three words spill from your lips before you can stop them. 

You feel stupid, you instantly feel so so stupid. You miss the anger, the coldness – the one that never let him back in. 

He looks up, a bewildered look on his face as he stares at you in shock and confusion. 

“What?”

“We both made mistakes.”

He shakes his head, you had never seen such a deep frown in his features, his lips are pursed as he tries to come up with words but he can only stare at you with a questioning look in his eyes. 

You blink, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the nervous feeling that is building up more and more. 

“I-I just,” you pause to take a deep breath, to give yourself the chance to say something that won’t ruin everything again but, something pushes you to say this, “I keep wondering how things could’ve been if I never let you go, how it would’ve been if I just fought for you.”

He whispers your name as he stares at you with eyes that soften the longer he looks at you. 

“I-I never did, I just let you go. I keep thinking about that night at Tina’s party. You spilled that stupid red wine on you that you didn’t even like.”

Steve nods slowly. He feels the bitterness on his tongue, the taste of the sour wine still lingers when he thinks about how much he had drank from it to gain more courage, to make it easier to lie to you, to break your heart. 

“You told me that you weren’t in love with me anymore and I just, I said ‘okay’ and then I left and that’s all.” 

You look back at him with glossy eyes and a frown on your lips. 

“Don’t put the blame on yourself,” he says in anger for himself, “I was the one who lied to you, I was the one who fucked up. Not you, y/n. Never you.” 

“But–”

“No!” He shakes his head, “stop it, where’s this even coming from?”

You shrug and it only confuses him further. 

“Would you have stayed with me if I didn’t let you go?” You ask, “if I fought for you?”

He feels ashamed, he feels guilty and so horrible. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, “I would have stayed with you.” Because this is what he wanted. He wanted you to fight for him, he wanted you to make him stay. 

You know that he is honest and it breaks your heart again. 

“But you shouldn’t have, it wasn’t your job to fight for me. I should have fought for you. You should’ve been the one to leave, not me.”

“What?”

“I was a fucking asshole, y/n. I was an asshole to you, every day of our relationship, I kept fucking up, over and over again and you tolerated it, you never left me. You never got mad at me, you never said anything rude, you never did anything bad, you were – fuck, you were perfect, you are perfect,” he holds your hand tighter.

The tear that rolls down your cheek is quickly wiped away with his thumb.

“And I’m sorry, I am so fucking sorry for what I did to you.” 

He hates the way your eyes continue to well up with tears. He hates the way your bottom lip quivers as you try to not break down. He hates the way you are still hurting because of him. 

“Steve,” you whisper, not wanting to hear his apologies anymore. 

He shakes his head, stubbornly. 

“I’m not just saying sorry for leaving you, for choosing her over you. It’s not just that.”

You sniffle quietly and you press your knees to your chest. Your hand is still in his and you don’t make any moves to pull it away. 

“I’m sorry that I acted like I wasn’t interested in the things you loved doing. I’m sorry that I didn’t show you how much I really loved you. I’m sorry that I didn’t hold you enough, that I didn’t kiss you the way you should have been kissed, that I didn’t take care of you.” 

You start crying before you can stop yourself from doing so. 

“I should have held you that night. God, I hate myself for what I did to you that night. You cried a-and I-I didn’t do anything, I just listened to you cry.”

You close your eyes when your vision blurs. Your heart drops to your stomach and a sick feeling rushes through you. 

You didn’t know that he was awake, you always thought that he fell asleep before you broke down. But he was awake and he heard you. He was awake and he listened to your cries, he just listened and kept his back turned to you when you needed him to just fucking hold you. 

Steve watches the tears rolling down your cheeks, one after the other. 

Back then, he could’ve just pulled you into his arms. He could’ve hugged you, he could’ve held you but he never did – now he wants to so badly but now, he can’t. 

He sees how much you are struggling, he sees how hurt you still are. All these months, he thought that you had moved on, that you had left him in the past, that you had forgotten about the pain. But he was so wrong about everything. 

You have not moved on, you have not left him in the past and you especially, have not forgotten about the pain that he had put you through. 

The girl he knew is still in there just like the boy you once knew is still in him. 

You both changed but, you are also both still the same. 

“I should have given you the locket,” he whispers as he turns your hand around and places the little box into your palm, “I shouldn’t have given you the fucking bracelet that you never wanted.”

To see you cry will always hurt. To know that he is to blame for your pain, will always make him hate himself. To see the way you look at him with so much sadness and still so much love in your eyes will always make his chest burn with regret. 

Your brows are pulled together, your lips are parted and you look down at the box with big eyes. 

You pull your hand away from his and you wipe your tears before you open it after a moment of hesitation. A tear drops on the beautiful locket that you have fallen in love with a year back. 

A present that would have brought you joy back then, only makes you sad now. 

He could’ve seen a smile on your face. He could’ve seen happiness in your eyes. He could’ve heard you squeal in excitement. 

He could’ve. 

You stare at it, a minute passes and then another, you stare at it in silence. 

“I-I didn’t put anything in there,” he mumbles, pointing to the locket, “I know you always wanted a picture of us in there but uh – I figured you wouldn’t want that anymore.” 

You take it out of the box, the heart shaped locket is engraved with little flowers – it’s beautiful. Despite the sadness and the anger that is buried deep somewhere, you smile. 

It’s something that Steve did not expect. The thought of gifting you the little piece that you have wanted for so long after he left made him anxious, it was a last minute decision – this was not the gift he wanted to give you but it’s something that he found when he took his room apart while searching for a box to put the original gift in. This is what you wanted. 

You wanted it for your last birthday but instead he put a bracelet around your wrist, one that you did not wish for. You still loved it, you still smiled brightly and stared at it as though it was the prettiest thing you had ever seen. 

He bought the locket three days before he left you, he intended to give it to you after Halloween but it all went wrong. 

Everything went wrong after that night. 

He chose her and you chose to act like he didn’t exist anymore which is something he isn’t mad at anymore, you should have done worse. 

You gave him the cold shoulder, the glares, the snarky replies whenever he talked to you, whether it was about the essay you had worked on together or something else. You were mean, dismissive and cold. It went on like that for two months until that night when you had parted ways after the party at Jimmy’s place. After that you just seemed unbothered by his presence, like he didn’t matter anymore.

Now you are showing him a side that he does not deserve to see – the vulnerable, loving side that he only got when you were still his. 

He hates that you think that you should have fought for him. He never deserved it. He never deserved you. 

He prefers it when you hate him – he deserves that more than your love. 

You are silent for the longest time, just staring at the locket in your hand and he watches you with a bitter taste on his tongue and a deep sadness in his eyes. 

“Thank you, Stevie.”

It’s been a long time since you called him that. 

You lift your head and turn to look at him, your eyes meet and he smiles. 

“You’re welcome, y/n.”

The smile that you give him makes him realize just how much he truly misses you. 

He misses the sound of your giggle, he misses the way your eyes lit up when you saw him, he misses the way you would smile into the kisses, he misses the way it feels to hold you, he misses being with you. God, he misses you. 

You look down and with a heavy sigh, you push yourself up, “I-I should go inside.”

The disappointment that rushes through him is deep, he doesn’t want this to end, he doesn’t want to say goodbye again, he doesn’t want to go back to a love that is forced. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, getting up as well. 

For a moment, you stand in front of each other, not moving, not looking away from one another. His hands itch for your touch and you long to feel his arms around you. 

Should you tell him how much you miss him? 

Should you hug him?

Should you tell him how he haunts you in your memories? 

His hair looks soft beneath the dim porch light, his eyes even softer as he stares at you, his lips – stop. You curse at yourself for letting your mind go there. He is not yours, he belongs to someone else. 

Steve sees the way you look at him; it’s still the same. 

And that little moment is enough for him to make a decision. 

“Goodbye,” you whisper. 

He hesitates. 

Once again, he finds himself here, not wanting to say goodbye to you.

“Goodbye.”

You tear your eyes away from him, you look down and walk towards your door. You lift your hand, reaching for the doorknob when you feel his fingers closing in around your wrist. 

“Hey,” he says softly. 

You’re met with a smile when you look back again. 

“Happy birthday, dolly.”

A breathy chuckle falls from your lips and you smile, “thank you.”

Last year he would have kissed you. 

This year he can’t even hug you.

You turn back around and he watches you hesitate, his hand is still holding your wrist and you turn to him once again. You let go of his hand and you lift the sleeve of your sweatshirt to show him something. 

The dainty pearls around your wrist make his eyes widen. 

“I love the bracelet, by the way,” you say with a smile before you walk into your house, leaving him standing on your porch. 

The warmth in his stomach is only there because of you, because of the love you still got for him – and even if you had no love for him anymore, he would still feel it. You could break his heart into a million pieces and Steve Harrington would still love you more than anything else in this world. 

He can push you out of his life, he can try to fall in love with someone else, he can replace you with another girl but no one will ever be you. 

No one will ever make him feel the things that you make him feel. No one can make his heart race the way you do. No one can make him feel so safe and loved despite the distance, no one but you. 

It’s always you, it’s always been you, it’ll always be you. 

There is no point to be with someone he can never love the way he loves you. There is no point in being with someone who could never love him the way you loved him.

It’s all just pointless, everything that has happened since Halloween night is pointless. 

His mind is filled with thoughts, ones that keep him so distracted that he doesn’t even notice that the light in his bedroom is on. Only when he steps into his room and he notices his girlfriend sitting on his bed, does he realize that he is not alone tonight, like he wanted to be. 

He instantly notices the frown on her face, the crossed arms and a look of anger in her eyes.

“Nance,” he mumbles with furrowed brows, confused by her presence. 

He takes a look around his room to find it a mess, messier than it was before. Books, clothes and notes are scattered all over the carpet, an open box lying on the floor, pictures of you and him spilling out of it. Your green scrunchie from cheer practice lying on the sweater that belongs to him, one that he had put into the box because it was basically yours, it smelled like you, it probably still does. 

Realization floods through him, but there is no ounce of fear inside of him. He isn’t scared of what is about to happen.

Nancy is holding one of the many notes and she looks at him in disbelief, scoffing as she holds it up for him to see. 

“I’ll throw it away later, huh?” She asks, mocking him. 

He doesn’t have to take a closer look to know which note it is. It’s the one she found in his car a few months ago, the one he promised to throw away.

He doesn’t know what to say so he just stands there and looks at her, trying to figure out what she is feeling right now. 

She is not hurt, he knows she isn’t, just angry. 

Her eyes have strayed away from him just a few weeks after he left you for her. The moment Jonathan stepped into her life, her heart was no longer his, she gave it to her supposed new friend. 

He saw the stolen glances, the lingering touches. He knew about the secret meetups, he knew about what she did when they had decided on taking a break. But, he never said anything, he never did anything about it. He tolerated it because he thought that he deserved it. 

She did the same thing that he did to you, just so much worse. At least, he had never slept with anyone else, he had never kissed anyone else. 

Everything that she did in the course of their relationship is something that he was afraid of you doing to him. He was stupid for even thinking that. You would never do that to him. 

“I wish I could say that I’m surprised,” Nancy mumbles, throwing the note on the ground, “but I’m not.” 

Nancy isn’t blind and she isn’t stupid either, she always knew where his mind was at when he was with her, when he kissed her, when he touched her, when he slept with her. He was thinking about you, all the time. 

When she came over tonight, she didn’t expect to walk into an empty house or the mess that he had left in his room. She waited and waited and he didn’t come so she decided to keep herself busy. She began to clean his room, she organized his desk, dusted his furniture and put away his clean sweaters into the closet when she had found that box. Normally, she wouldn’t have opened it but curiosity got the best of her and now she feels relieved that she had done it, despite the sinking feeling in her stomach. 

Steve is calm, that’s something he had never been when he had gotten into fights with you. 

“Are you not gonna say anything?” 

Steve walks further into the room, he looks down at the things that belong to you, the things that he should’ve never put away in the first place. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Nancy.”

She tilts her head as she looks up at him, “you lied to me.” 

He nods. He lifts his hand and runs it through his hair. 

“Yeah, I did,” he admits, “I lied to you.” 

He lied when he said that he moved on from you. He lied when he told her that he loves her. He lied so many times and still, he tried to be good for her because he really wanted to try and be with her. 

“Do you love her?” She asks, already knowing the answer. 

Steve doesn’t even hesitate, he is done lying.  

“Yes.”

Hurt flashes in her eyes and he doesn’t even understand why – he is not the one that she wants. 

“Was it all just a lie then?” She asks, throwing her hands up. 

He shakes his head. No. It wasn’t all a lie, only his feelings, they were a lie, his love for her, that was a lie. 

He likes her, he always did. He liked spending time with her, he liked taking her out on dates, he liked studying with her and taking her to the movies afterwards but that’s all it was, he liked it. 

“No.” 

“God,” she breathes, “you’re so full of shit, Steve.” 

Her eyes that held pain and disbelief are now filled with anger and rage. 

“It wasn’t a lie?” She asks, stepping closer to him. 

As he looks down at her, he notices that he isn’t scared of what she is about to say. He isn’t scared that the relationship will be ruined after what words will spill from her mouth. He isn’t scared of what he will feel once she’s gone because, even when she leaves, his heart won’t be broken. 

No one can break his heart, no one but you. 

“No, I really liked you, Nancy.” 

She nods, her eyes widen and she purses her lips as she looks at him through her lashes- angrily. 

“Liked,” she says with such distaste in her voice. She takes a look around the messy room, she takes a look at the things on the ground, your things. “This is such bullshit.” 

Steve tenses up at her words, a cold shiver runs down his spine as he looks at her. 

“Why did you – why did we even get together?” 

He doesn’t know, he won’t be able to give her an answer, he doesn’t even have it himself. 

“Why did you leave her when you clearly still loved her?” She asks, raising her voice as she begins to pace around his room, kicking away the book that once belonged to you, one that he never gave back. “Why did you lie to me and say that you didn’t love her?”

He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. 

“Why did you tell me that you love me when it was all bullshit?” Nancy asks and suddenly halts in her tracks when she realizes that she did just the same. She told him that she loved him when her heart was somewhere else. “You know what, this is all bullshit.” 

“Nance,” Steve mumbles as he opens his eyes. He looks down at the ground. He can’t stand to hear these words again, it will always take him back to the night in your room, when he had almost kissed you, when he told you that he still loves you. 

“No!” 

She turns around to face him, she points her finger at him. 

“Let’s not fight.” He raises his hands up, trying to get her to calm down. “I don’t–”

“This whole relationship was bullshit, Steve! W-We kept acting like we’re in love when we–”

“When we aren’t in love?” He asks calmly, eyeing her slumped shoulders and the defeat in her eyes when she realizes that there is no use to fight. 

She doesn’t want to admit it, still worried about hurting him when she knows that no one could hurt him, no one but you. She looks at him, she takes in the sight of him. He is calm, even after what he found out a few days back. 

Suddenly, Nancy feels like a hypocrite for doing this to him. For taking his room apart, for getting upset over your stuff in his closet, for confronting him like this, for yelling at him when she was the one who got caught kissing someone else – she got caught by him and unlike her, he didn’t get mad, he just accepted it and then acted like nothing happened. 

Just like you always did. 

“Where were you tonight?” 

He doesn’t know why she is asking him that, they both know that this is the end. 

“I was with y/n. Her birthday is tomorrow. We have always spent the night before together, ever since we were little kids.” 

She raises her brows and nods, still feeling bitter about it, despite everything. 

“And you?” He asks, tilting his head, “where have you been? I dropped by your house earlier tonight and you weren’t home. Where were you?” 

Once again, she breaks eye contact, too ashamed to give him the real answer. 

Steve can tell the truth now. She can’t. 

But he is done with this, with everything. 

He sighs and he walks closer to her. 

Nancy crosses her arms over her chest, she bites down on her lip nervously. 

She is struggling to tell him the truth but he wants her to know that it’s okay. 

“Nancy, look at me.” 

He takes her hand in his, ignoring the way it feels so wrong to hold hers after yours. 

“Please.”

She looks up at him. 

Blue eyes filled with guilt meet the warm hazel ones, the one filled with sadness but also with calmness. 

“I know what happened with you and Jonathan, back in december,” he mumbles, trying not to roll his eyes.

“Steve..”

“It’s okay, Nance,” he whispers, squeezing her hand, “it’s okay.” 

“You should be with him.” 

Her brows snap together, her lips part in surprise. She blinks, staring up at him with confusion in her eyes. 

“We’re not right for each other,” he whispers, “you love him and I love her – and I can’t be with her but you can be with him.” 

Her eyes soften and the tension slowly leaves her body. She still feels guilty, for more than one reason. 

“It’s enough if one of us is miserable,” Steve says, trying to crack a joke. 

The smile on her face is forced. 

“We both know that this isn’t working, Nance. We keep pretending, we keep lying to each other, we keep acting like we’re happy with each other when we’re not. This needs to stop.” 

Her eyes well up with tears but she agrees with him. 

“Yeah,” she whispers and slowly removes her hand from his. 

“So this is it?” She asks, lifting one shoulder as she gives him a look of uncertainty. 

“Yes,” he nods, “this is it.”

“Okay,” she whispers. 

Both of them felt it coming. It’s been tense between them for weeks now, ever since the night you had called him.

When he and Eddie went after Ray and he walked out of the fight with injuries, with bruises on his temple and his knuckles, he had to lie to her to avoid the truth. She didn’t believe him when he said that a few guys from the basketball team had attacked him so she kept pressing him for answers, she wanted the truth, the truth that she never got. 

To this day, she doesn’t know what really happened. 

That put another dent into their relationship. 

But her lies were so much bigger and crueler than his. 

Still, he tried. He took her out on more dates than usual but both of them forced their happiness, their love and even their smiles. It was all forced. 

A heavy sigh falls from her lips, she wipes away the tear that fell down her cheek. 

“I-I guess I’m gonna go.”

He nods. 

They both take one final look at each other. Both of them knew that this would happen but neither of them thought that it would happen this soon. 

“I’ll drive you home.”

She shakes her head, “I took my mom’s car, didn’t you see it in the driveway?” She asks. 

“Oh,” he scratches the back of his neck. He didn’t see it, he didn’t really notice anything, his mind was with you, “right.” 

“Yeah, uh.. I guess I’ll see you around?” 

“Yeah, see you around.” 

The moment she leaves and he hears the front door slamming, he feels like a heavy weight has been lifted off his shoulders but at the same time, he feels this grief inside of him because he knows that now, he is truly all alone. 

His parents are gone. 

Tommy is gone. 

You are gone. 

And now, she is gone too and there is no one he can distract himself with anymore.

He is all on his own now. 

He drops down on his bed and he looks at the mess in his room. He stares at your things. Something shiny that glistens beneath the light in his room catches his attention. He leans down to pick it up. It’s your hair pin, the one that you wore on your birthday last year. 

He feels the coil in his throat, the sickening feeling when he thinks about what happened when he came back to you after he left you all alone on your birthday. 

He drank at Tina’s party, he drank so much, he was miserable without you, he was angry at himself for the way he treated you, for the way he had been treating you for weeks prior to your birthday. 

He didn’t party, he didn’t dance, he didn’t laugh, he didn’t even spend time with Tommy. He only drank until the bitter taste of whiskey made him feel sick and long for you. Without saying goodbye to his friends, he left and walked across town to your place. 

It was 11pm by the time he got there, he sneaked into your room to find you in the same state as him. You were sitting on your floor with a half empty bottle of whiskey, you were crying and staring blankly at the TV screen. 

“You gotta stop leaving your window open,” he said, startling you. 

Your head snapped towards him, your glossy eyes widened and you instantly put the bottle down, you jumped up. 

You stood there and stared at him with tears rolling down your cheeks. 

“I-I always leave it open for you,” you said with a shaky voice.

It was his fault. 

He hurt you on your birthday and he came over to fix it but he only made it worse. 

He kissed you. He kissed you so deeply and passionately the way he had never usually done anymore. He took your clothes off and you helped him out of his, before you both made your way over to your bed. 

He kissed all over your face, he kissed your neck, your chest. 

He intertwined your fingers together. 

He praised you. 

He told you how much he loved you. 

He made love to you that night – it was soft, sweet and perfect. And he didn’t realize just how much it was hurting you that he was doing that while he was drunk, while you were both drunk. That he was showing you a vulnerable and loving side after all the alcohol he consumed. That he was giving you something that he never gave you while sober. 

He gave you everything in that moment and then, he took it all away again when he pushed you off of him after you tried to lay your head on his chest. He pushed you off and he didn’t bother to look at you, he didn’t bother to look at the shocked and hurt look in your eyes when he turned his back to you. 

He pushed your hand off when you tried to hug him once again. 

He pushed you away twice. 

“Steve,” you whispered with a shaky voice. He knew you were on the verge of tears, he knew you were about to cry. 

You touched his arm, softly, carefully. 

“Don’t.” Is all he said to you as he shrugged your hand off. 

He heard your sniffle and the rustling of the sheets as you pulled away from him. You turned away from him too and you waited, you waited until you thought that he had fallen asleep before you broke down again that night. 

You tried to be quiet but you couldn’t, you cried. 

You cried and he did nothing. He just laid there, blinking away his own tears as he looked out the window, asking himself why he couldn’t just hold you. He listened to you cry and he did nothing, not even when his mind was screaming at him to just turn around and pull you into his arms. 

When your sniffles died down and he was sure that you had cried yourself to sleep, he did something that he couldn’t do while you were still awake. 

He turned around and he wrapped his arm around you.

-

“Are you ever gonna tell me where you’re taking me?” 

Eddie shakes his head, flashing you a smile. 

“Nope.” 

You chuckle and lean back, you look out the window. 

Eddie doesn’t know what day it is and you feel relieved about it. You will forever continue to be dramatic about your birthday, you like to pretend that this day doesn’t exist – which is impossible considering your family and friends know about it. 

“Are you hungry?” Eddie asks, “cause I’m hungry.” 

You hesitate and Eddie narrows his eyes to look at you. You lean forward, turning the volume up when your favorite Metallica song comes on. He knows what you are trying to do.

“I ate earlier.” 

“Ah, what did you eat, sweetheart?” 

Birthday cake. Your mom made it. 

“Toast.”

“That’s all?” He gasps. 

“It’s only 6 in the evening!” 

“Yeah and you only had breakfast!” 

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Y/n,” he sighs. 

“Eddie,” you sigh, giving him a sweet smile. 

A look of disapproval crosses his face, he shakes his head at you. 

“I’m gonna make you dinner.” 

You snort when you look out the window. You are far from the trailer park and from your house. He picked you up in the afternoon and took you to the movies the way he wanted to the night before. 

He didn’t ask what you did last night and he didn’t ask where you had gotten the necklace from, the one that is now around your neck. 

He knows everything without having to ask and you don’t even know that he is aware of things that you are trying to keep a secret. 

When Eddie pulls up to the quarry, you look at him in confusion, “uh the quarry?” You ask, “what are we doing here?” 

You’d hung out at Lovers Lake, Skull rock, Lake Jordan and even at the hidden lake in the woods but you had never come out here. 

As you look around, you wonder why you haven’t been here before. It’s quiet with no people around, it’s a beautiful spot to come out here whenever you need a moment to yourself. 

The sun is shining down on the blue water, it looks good enough to jump in but it’s still not warm enough to take a swim.  

“Well, it’s about time we find new hangout spots!” He says with a grin. He turns off the engine and it falls silent between the two of you when the music stops playing. 

“Ready to get high, sweetheart?” 

You chuckle, “yes.”

He gets out of the van and you follow suit. Smoothing down your dress, you reach for your jacket before you close the door. 

Eddie walks around the van, bowing down before you, he offers you his hand. 

Giggling, you shake your head as you place your hand in his. 

“Dork.” 

He gives you a proud smirk as he pulls you closer to him, he raises your hand towards his lips and places a kiss on your knuckles. 

“Your dork,” he winks. 

You can’t help but laugh, unaware of the blush on your cheeks. 

“Definitely a dork,” you giggle, “a cute dork.”

Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulder, “come on.” 

The confused look on your face makes him smile smugly. That smile should have been enough for you to know. 

You look around, there is nothing but rocks, trees and the huge lake in front of you. Not a single bench in sight, nothing to sit down on but the hard concrete floor, “are we not gonna smoke in the back of your van?” You ask, “where are we supposed to sit?” 

There is an innocent look on his face but his eyes are filled with mischief. 

Maybe he does know about your birthday. Maybe he is mad at you for keeping it a secret. Maybe he is gonna push you into the water for not telling him – that thought makes you want to laugh. Eddie would never do that. 

“You’re not gonna push me into the water are you?” You joke. 

You can’t help but smile at the sound of his laughter and at the way his eyes shine so beautifully when he looks down at you. His curls aren’t as messy as they usually are, he is wearing a new shirt and a new cologne. 

It makes your stomach flip – you don’t know why. 

“You smell good.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirks despite the pounding in his chest. 

You nod. 

“New cologne?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“I like it.”

“You do, huh?” 

“Yes,” you smile. 

The look in his eyes suddenly makes you nervous, you have to look down to avoid the fluttering in your stomach. 

He leads you down to the little bay, one that is surrounded by beautiful pine trees and a secret camping place. He smirks at the sight in front of him and glances down at you to see you still looking down at your shoes, just as you’re about to lift your head up, he grabs you and pulls you against him, holding both hands in front of your eyes. 

“Eddie?” You ask, chuckling. 

He leans his chin on your shoulder and pulls your hair back, “not gonna lie, I’m a little hurt you didn’t tell me.”

You frown, “w-what?”

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he whispers and removes his hands again to reveal his little surprise. 

Your eyes widen, your jaw drops as you look around in confusion and surprise. 

There is a campfire, logs surrounding it, a boombox perched on one of the tree trunks. Coolers and snacks, along with a birthday cake that Robin is holding up with a grin on her face. 

Your friends are here, well, most of them. 

Heather, Chrissy and Robin are standing next to each other looking at you in excitement. Gareth, Jeff and Grant are wearing party hats, the sight of them makes you giggle. 

“Surprise!” 

“Happy birthday!” 

“Oh my god, are you kidding?” You laugh, clapping your hands together. 

“Happy birthday!” Chrissy squeals, being the first to run towards you and pull you into a tight hug. “I’ve been waiting for this all day!” 

You wrap your arms around her, “thank you, Chris,” you giggle, closing your eyes as you hug her back just as tight. Heather joins the two of you, hugging you from behind, she kisses your cheek. 

“Happy birthday, babe,” she grins as though she hasn’t been the first to call this morning, pulling you out of your deep slumber. 

“Can I join you girls?” Gareth asks, wiggling his brows at Heather who flips him off. 

“No boys in a girls group hug,” Chrissy says to him. 

“I can’t wait to give you my present, y/n!” Jeff grins as he is the next to hug you. 

“What did you get her, Jeff?” Gareth asks, “a poster of Eddie?” 

Grant bursts into laughter and so does Gareth, proud of his own joke. 

Eddie rolls his eyes with a blush on his cheeks. 

“C’mere, birthday girl!” Robin says to you, stealing you from Jeff, she kisses your cheek, “I can’t believe you thought that you could keep this from us!” 

“I can’t believe you guys are throwing a party for me,” you say, blushing. 

“That was Eddie’s idea,” she smiles, winking at you. 

Huffing, you turn away from her to hide the flustered look on your face. Eddie stands there with a smile, watching you interact with your friends before your attention strays back to him and your soft eyes lock with his. 

“Let’s party, guys!” Gareth claps his hands together, walking away from the group. 

Grant walks over to the boom box to put on some music. Jeff gives Eddie a sheepish smile, “I’ll get the drinks.”

“I’ll help!” Heather says, following him. 

That only leaves Robin and Chrissy who are still looking between you and Eddie before they look at one another. Robin smiles down at the blonde, “wanna help?” She asks, wanting to give the two of you some privacy. 

Chrissy’s brows furrow, she stares up at the tall girl. 

“With the drinks, I-I mean,” Robin mumbles. 

“Oh!” Chrissy giggles, “yeah, let’s go.” 

You and Eddie don’t notice the two blushing girls, you are too busy looking at each other.

“How did you know that it’s my birthday?” 

“I asked your mom,” he responds, quirking a brow as he looks up at the sky, “like, back in december.” 

Your eyes soften. 

He asked your mom about your birthday?

“Eddie,” you whisper, unable to stop yourself from throwing your arms around him. You lay your head on his warm chest, “you are the sweetest.”

His chest rumbles as he laughs at your words, hugging you tightly. 

“That title belongs to you.” 

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you mumble into his chest, “not for me.”

Eddie frowns at your words and he squeezes your arms. There is nothing that he wouldn’t do for you. 

“Sweetheart, you’re the only one I’d do this for,” he whispers before he places a kiss on the top of your head. 

You lift your head up and you look into his eyes with a smile, “thank you, Eddie.”

“You’re welcome.” He tucks a loose strand behind your ear. “I got something for you.”

“More?” You ask surprised. 

He chuckles, “yeah, come on,” he whispers. 

You follow him without question, letting him lead you down to the water for a little more privacy. 

The sound of music fills the air, drowning out the voice of the crickets and your friends chatter.

“You’re spoiling me today,” you giggle. 

“Gotta spoil my best friend,” he winks at you before he takes both of your hands and turns you around so you’re both facing each other again. “I got a feeling that your friends won’t let me have a moment with you alone so,” he pauses as he lets go of one of your hands, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a little bag, one that is in colorful wrapping paper, “you’re getting this now.”

“Another birthday present?” 

“Of course,” he chuckles, “I’ve only been waiting for months to give it to you,” he says dramatically with an eyeroll. 

“Months?” You gasp. 

“Yeah, months!” 

You giggle, looking down at the little present in your hands. You unwrap it quickly and eagerly. 

Eddie laughs but watches you in anticipation. 

You scrunch up the wrapping paper and push it into his hands, making him laugh again. He stuffs it back inside of his leather jacket. 

You open the bag and gasp, “oh my god!” You squeal, jumping in excitement, “no way, Eddie!” 

You reach for the ring. The skull ring that you have seen in the window at the Gothic shop that you passed by when you spent a weekend in Indianapolis, back in February. 

“Where’s the other one?” You ask, knowing that it’s a set. 

He grins at you, motioning you to put the ring on your finger before he picks the matching one out of his pocket, showing it to you. “I’ve been waiting to finally wear it!” 

“Put it on!” 

He chuckles at your excitement, unable to fight the grin off of his face, he puts the ring on his finger and holds his hand out to you. 

“We’re matching!” You smile as you eye the ring on yours and his finger, “I love it so much, Eddie!” 

“That makes me happy, sweetheart.” 

He might not be able to give you expensive lockets or bracelets but, he still gets to make you smile and that is enough, for now. 

You cup his cheeks and stand on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on his cheek. 

His cheeks heat up at the feeling of your lips on his skin. 

“Thank you,” you whisper again. 

He can’t help but place a kiss on your cheek as well, making you giggle again. Neither of you notice the flash of the camera going off.

You are happy, you are smiling and this is all he wanted to see. He wanted to see you happy, especially tonight. After all your horrible birthdays, he wanted to give you one that you can look back on and smile instead of thinking of it with a heavy feeling in your chest. 

So he tries to make it as memorable as possible so it may be able to put a shadow over all the bad ones that you have had. 

And the night is perfect, this birthday is perfect. 

You laugh with your friends, you share a joint and you get tipsy from all the mixed drinks. You make s’mores and listen to your favorite songs. 

You unwrap the presents your friends had gotten you – including Dustin’s present who wasn’t allowed to this party. He of course got you a Hellfire shirt, the very persistent boy has been trying to get you to join their club for months now. 

And when it’s time for your cake, you can’t help but giggle when the guys sing out of chorus. 

“Who made this cake?” You ask after blowing out the candles. 

“Uh, the store!” Robin says, sheepishly as she gives you a crooked grin. 

“I tried baking one myself,” Eddie says next to you, “I almost ended up without a home.” 

“Wait what?” You ask, laughing but holding your hand to your chest, giving him a pout. He even tried to bake a cake for you. 

“I’m surprised you had a fire extinguisher at your place,” Robin jokes. 

Eddie clutches his chest, giving her a glare, “I’m insulted, Buckley.”

“You could live with me,” you giggle, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

He looks down at you with a smile while everyone else shares a look. 

Chrissy, who has a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, looks at Robin, who sits back down next to Gareth. Feeling eyes on her, she lifts her head to catch the pretty cheerleader staring at her. 

It’s dark out and the only light surrounding the group is the campfire. That is enough to make the red cheeks very visible, on both girls. 

Jeff glances at the matching rings on yours and Eddie’s hands.

“Nice rings, why didn’t you invite us to the wedding?” He asks, wiggling his brows at the two of you. 

“Did the invitation get lost in the mail?” Eddie chuckles, “sorry about that.” 

Gareth gasps, clutching his beer tightly to his chest, “you’re not pregnant with a Munson baby, are you y/n?” He smirks. 

You put your hand on your stomach, “oh yes, I’m having quadruplets!” 

“Oh my god, y/n!” Heather snorts, “stop joking about it or you’re actually getting them someday!” 

Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulder, “yeah so? We’re having our own band, the new Corroded Coffin.”

“No!” Grant almost yells. 

You and Eddie laugh at his sudden outburst. 

Chrissy and Robin fade out the conversation around them, their eyes are locked and the only sounds they hear is the crackling of the fire and their pounding hearts. 

As they are unable to keep their eyes off of each other, you and Eddie are unable to move away from one another. 

He puts a blanket around you when the night gets colder and you still scoot closer to him, reaching for his hand in search of more warmth and when he kisses the top of your head, a new pair of eyes catches sight of you with him.  

Steve didn’t plan to show up at your party. 

Despite how well things had gone between the two of you the night before, he still didn’t want to intrude, knowing that he isn’t welcome here. 

But he wanted to see you, even if just from afar, he wanted to see you and make sure that you are having a nice time, that you are having a better birthday, a better night than you have had in the year before. 

So, he showed up at your party. 

But he did not expect to see you in Eddie’s arms – not like this. 

He sees you smile and even though it breaks his heart to see you with him, he can walk away with a calm feeling in his chest because he gets to know that this night won't end for you in tears this time.

But for him, it does. 

next chapter

-

tagging friends & mutuals!

@mysticmunson @taintedcigs @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @screammunson @take-everything-you-can @trashmouth-richie @xxhellfiregirlxx @nemesis729 @somethingvicked @sherrylyn628 @chrissymjstan

[lexiecon-mp4]

Jayvik and Butterflies || Arcane Meta

The butterfly motif has put everyone into a chokehold (myself included) and has had me brainrotting so hard for the last few days that I felt compelled to make my first Arcane post.

With how repetitive the butterfly motif is within Viktor and Jayce's lives throughout Arcane, I thought it would be fitting to do a meta looking into what that symbol might mean.

So first things first; where do we see this symbol pop up? In presumed chronological order of in-universe events, here are some of the following;

1. Viktor when following his toy boat (S1E6)

2. Jayce after being saved by the mage (S1E2)

3. Mechanical butterflies shown during Progress Day (S1E4)

4. Butterfly at the Fissures when Jayce and Viktor talk about failing to "do good" (S1E9)

5. A flash frame of a butterfly appears when Jayce hits the Arcane with his hammer (S2E3)

6. The hammer itself is shaped like a butterfly after Jayce emerges from the Arcane (S2E5)

7. Viktor and Jayce vaguely form a butterfly-type shape when they sacrifice themselves (S2E9)

(If I'm missing any I apologize, but these are the memorable examples that I think embody the themes I'm going to discuss. Feel free to comment more!)

I'm not including Jinx's mechanical butterflies here since they are more reminiscent of Firelights, but it is fitting that she has taken a symbol associated with progress from Progress Day and retrofitted it to her own design, just like she does with Hextech itself. That already serves as a manifestation of how Jayce and Viktor's shared creation can lead toward a dangerous path.

Ultimately, I think there are three main themes that I believe fit both characters respectively along with their arcs.

1. METAMORPHOSIS

Viktor goes through a literal metamorphosis of his own as a result of the glorious evolution, both physically and emotionally. Like the change of a caterpillar to a butterfly, his evolution is one that he perceives to be an "improvement" on his prior form. Simultaneously, his obsession with perfection (due to his own insecurities, struggles and oppression) shifts his focus. His original ambitions to help the people of Zaun and beyond are lost as he prioritizes using the Arcane to "improve lives", even against their own will. For the final step of his evolution, he sacrifices his humanity and breaks out of his "chrysalis" as a changed man. Viktor become utterly unrecognizable to everyone, even to his own partner; until the last scene between the two.

Jayce has seen that he has become something completely different than the Viktor he knew before. But regardless, he sees him as beautiful in the context of his current "perfect" AND prior "imperfect" state. The caterpillar and butterfly are one and the same, just like the man he knew and the "Machine Herald" that stands before him. He sees under the facade (a literal mask) that Viktor wears, knowing that his partner is still there.

What distinguishes Viktor from the butterfly is that his metamorphosis doesn't end with the "glorious evolution." While the evolution was intended to be a point of no return, it was eventually shown to be another step in his ever-changing arc. Viktor doesn't revert back to his original state, but makes his sacrifice alongside Jayce because of the growth of his character. The final, glorious evolution he always wanted was in liberating everyone from the Arcane, not enslaving them.

The metamorphosis theme also applies to Jayce, as he has obviously "evolved" after touching the Arcane. Yet despite his own evolution, he never loses that humanity that allows him to keep hope for Viktor still being in there. Both of them become something more in the end. I especially love that this happens by each accepting their flaws and acknowledging one another as beautiful. Jayce would still love Vik if he was a worm the caterpillar, since that was the first and original iteration of the man he admires.

2. THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

The butterfly effect is one of my favorite thought experiments related to chaos theory; the underlying patterns/laws of the universe's systems that seem random but are actually dependent on initial conditions. The effect argues that a simple flutter of a butterflies wings could lead to a chain of events that cause something completely different and significant. Arcane has several of these "butterflies" (e.g. the note Vander wrote for Silco) but the most prominent one yet again connects Viktor and Jayce.

Old Viktor explains that in every universe, he gave young Jayce a different rune in order to invent Hextech, presumably with the hopes of preventing the apocalypse as well. He knew that Jayce was the only one who could show him the truth about perfection, but without the right rune, he couldn't get there. It was the specific choice of an acceleration rune that allowed for the events of season two to occur. This small change gives Ekko a chance to fight back and Jayce the chance to talk it out with his partner.

(My personal theory is that the acceleration rune allowed for Ekko and Jayce to travel to a different dimension through the Arcane. This led Ekko to create the Z-Drive and gave Jayce the knowledge of his and Viktor's fates. The rune in his wrist was likely what brought him to Old Viktor in the first place. Otherwise, it's likely that Ekko, Heimer and Jayce would have been absorbed/disintegrated in the process.)

At the beginning of S2E6 Viktor describes Jayce as having "a singularity simultaneously self-replicating and self-annihilating." While the singularity seems to be driving Jayce insane and irate, it contains the chaos needed to stop the influence of the Hexcore over Viktor, Piltover, and Zaun.

In the end, both are able to intersect the "chaos and order" of the Arcane, connecting the rune embedded in Jayce's wrist with Viktor's Hexcore-ified body. The disorder of the Arcane in Jayce seemed random at first, just as the rune given to him did. Yet it was these initial conditions that determined the fates of everyone involved, including the closure that he and Viktor were able to have in the end.

The way that these two are able to break the terrible fate determined for them if they ever met, while still being able to resolve their conflicts at the end, is some extremely beautiful storytelling.

3. MIGRATION/THE JOURNEY

Finally, the act of migrating is one that I feel applies most to Jayce in season two, but also is present in Viktor's backstory and struggle against his disabilities.

There's a specific species of butterfly that migrates every fall, which are the Monarch butterflies that are native to North America. These creatures must brave difficult conditions as they travel down south to more temperate climates. It is a physically demanding trip that tests the resolve of the butterflies, which in Jayce's case, also shakes him to his core.

He has to endure many perils and pains when the Arcane transports him to the "bad ending" universe. He travels through Zaun, gets stuck in the Fissures for a while, then finally climbs the Hexgates to learn the truth about his dream. While the sufferings of the journey itself feel unnecessary, it's a path Jayce must take in the end no matter how painful. Like the monarchs, he perseveres and makes it out of there alive.

But unlike them, this difficult pilgrimage is necessary to shape Jayce's character. He essentially speed-runs Viktor's personal journey as a Zaunite; born in Zaun, being poisoned by the Fissures, and "pulling himself up by his bootstraps" all the way up to the gilded heights of Piltover. It's a perilous and painful trip, made more difficult by his injured leg. Yet when Jayce reaches the top, none of the achievements matter to Viktor in this universe. After everything he had done, there was only the empty husk of his loved one and the truth it carried that remained. His illness and "imperfections" were cured, but at what cost?

This puts everything into perspective for Jayce. At the end of his travels, he realizes what he really wants to save isn't Hextech, or his dream, but his partner. In turn, it saves the lives of everyone including that of Viktor's, who comes out of the other side of this journey loved rather than alone. Perhaps their presumed deaths aren't the most happy ending for both of them, but they certainly made it to clearer skies together.

(One last additional note: I love that the alternate universe only has dragonflies instead of butterflies; the connecting symbol between the two is missing in this universe because they couldn't save it in the end.)

So ultimately, the motif of butterflies for Jayce and Viktor represent the change, resilience and interconnectedness of the pair. Throughout the entire two seasons, this symbol follows them on their respective arcs like a red string of fate. As Viktor calls it, they are "two sides of the same coin, inextricably bound." The final two variables needed to solve the Arcane, and they could only do so together.

(i hate these guys they have irrevocably rewritten my brain chem)

Thank you for reading if you made it this far!

[hannie-dul-set]

six quick and easy hacks to 🆙 the quality of your fanfiction!

as promised, here it is! i’m not here to tell you how to plot out your story, or how to write your characters’ personalities. the tips i’m sharing are more on formatting and structure, secret (not really) cheat codes to instantaneously make your already written work even better! 

my qualifications? being a tumblr hag for over five years (my even more embarrassing pre k-pop writeblr included!) so i’ve unlocked quite a bit of secrets and discovered some eurekas throughout my time here HAHAHAH. anyway, let’s start!

#1 VARIETY IN PARAGRAPH LENGTHS, SENTENCE LENGTHS, AND SENTENCE STARTERS.

nothing turns me off more than seeing paragraph blocks after paragraph blocks when looking for some new fics to read, especially when you’re reading from a cramped up device such as your phone.

when i write a lengthy paragraph, i try to follow it up with a one-liner, or a mid-sized one. but it’s something i consciously keep track of— when i noticed that, “oh, this gdoc is getting a little too wordy, a little too chunky,” i make sure that my next paragraph is significantly shorter than the current one because it keeps the entire page interesting. one to two sentences of lines of paragraphs after another and another doesn’t look pretty. chunks of paragraphs after paragraphs is boring.

make your pages visually dynamic by ensuring variety.

like this, for example.

→ fic: home for the bitchless.

seeing a large chunk of text and a singular line immediately after also sort of forces your reader to stick around and read an otherwise intimidating lengthy paragraph because— oh! what could have possibly led to that singular like of dialogue or thought! #subtlemanipulation you get me? 😔🤙

this rule of mine applies to sentences and phrases within the paragraph as well!

→ fic: love vomit.

and as a bonus, you can use paragraph breaks and cuts to your advantage! manipulating the way a sentence or paragraph ends in a certain way makes your works more rhythmic! and, when you play it around the right way, abrupt cuts and breaks also add the right mood and drama to your work!

→ drabble: the boy who cried wolf.

part three of tip number one (one…we’re still at number one…) is on sentence and paragraph starters. i keep it as a rule of thumb that if i start a paragraph with “you,” or with someones name, i don’t use it again in the next one to avoid monotony. it’s a very miniscule thing really, and i doubt that people notice this HAHAHA but this is something i religiously swear by because repetitions like this are visually boring.

→ wip: sunwater.

of course, this can’t be avoided all the time, and repeating the sentence starter “You” or any other pronoun, word, or phrase can be intentionally utilized to strongly drive a point. just don’t overdo it!

→ drabble: patience, patience.

→ blurb: monsters don’t hide under the bed.

→ fic: the psychology of strawberries.

there are other good and strategic uses for repetitions as well! we’ll get to that later.

lastly, variety in sentence and paragraph starters doesn’t simply mean changing up the first word. things can still get really boring even if you use “you” or a character’s name interchangeably if your sentence structure remains the same.

this, for example, is monotonous.

the structure (and length) of all three sentences are the same. A does this. B does this. A does this. and even if you switch things up but still use the same sentence structure, it still falls flat. case in point, below, a structure i often see in a lot of fics i stumble across.

those are flat. those are boring. they don’t…you know…make you feel something, even when you follow the rule of not using the same starter twice. let me try improving it by adding more variety in the sentences (+ adding a tip that i’ll be discussing right after!)

the word “He” here is used twice to create a rhythm and draw emphasis, but the rest of the excerpt maintains a sense of variety to make the narrative more interesting and compelling to read.

*

#2 PICK A POV AND STICK WITH IT.

before i start a scene, a drabble, or blurb, the first question i ask myself is, “whose point of view do i want it to be in?”

one, it’s a lot neater, more organized, than omniscient point of views in my opinion (unless you’re like a super fucking skilled writer of course HAHAHHA). two, it allows for a bit of mystery, suspense, and engagement because you don’t have access to what other people are thinking about, and three— in line with the first tip— when you know whose brain you’re in when writing, it allows for more dynamic narrations, gives you an excuse to be messy because our internal thoughts are messy as well, and makes the writing a hell of a lot easier when you’re focused on monologuing one person alone!

when writing shorter fics, drabbles, or blurbs, i swear by this rule, no excuses HAHAHAH but when writing longer fics, sometimes i switch around the point of views per scene, just to make a more well rounded story.

sometimes, the point of view doesn’t even have to be any of the main character’s! writing from an external POV is also really fun and adds another layer of interest. see example below, a Jeonghan breakup fic written exclusively from the perspective of the outsiders. very fun idea! 

breakup scene written in Seungcheol’s POV.

another squabble written in Seungkwan’s POV.

→ wip: the breakup soup.

*

#3 REPETITIONS AND THEMES = COHESIVENESS.

this section contains tricks on how to wrap up your fics into one cohesive little present with a pretty ribbon on top! 

first is the use of repetition. use a cool funky line at the beginning of your story, and reuse/rehash/revise it at the end for a neat finish, especially when you have trouble figuring out a way to end your story (lifesaving hack! trust me!) 

i use this mostly in my shorter works—

→ drabble: you’re my bucket list.

→ blurb: louder.

—but it works just as well with longer fics, especially when the repetition is all throughout, and not just at the start and finish.

→ fic: mogi.

sometimes, it doesn’t even have to be a repeated phrase or line! it can be a little gimmick and it’d still work to make your fic cohesive! for example, in the fic below, i use the giving of strawberry candy/strawberry kisses to tie all the different scenes together because this was initially a set of separate drabble ideas wrapped into one long fic.

→ fic: the psychology of strawberries.

and for this one (another ricky fic….yes…..) i use the whole cat metaphor to do the same. 

→ drabble: yours to keep.

the next tip to make your work cohesive is to grab a singular theme, object, whatever, and take advantage of it for your narration HAHAHAHHA this can be better explained by looking at the examples below.

theme: citrus.

→ drabble: citrus in the morning.

theme: storm.

→ blurb: blizzard.

the above examples are my shorter works, but it can work for longer fics as well! just check out this 36k word monster HAHAHAHHA.

theme: seasons.

→ fic: love vomit.

these are very simple ways to make your fic more put together! even if it’s just a simply blurb about a confession, adding a theme to aid the imagery bumps your fic quality to a +++++

*

#4 THROW AWAY THE Y/N’S!

now this one is quite honestly just a personal nitpick HAHAHHAHA but seeing the word Y/N when i’m reading something really pulls me out of my immersion. (and i only stopped using Y/N’s in my fics at the start of my 2023 comeback….so if you see my older works still using it…hahahha please don’t prosecute me).

anyway, you can do this either by embedding it in the narration—

→ fic: star studded baggage.

—or by using nicknames and titles instead!

→ wip: the breakup soup.

→ fic: can’t handle this.

*

#5 GET INTO THE (UN)NECESSARY SPECIFICS.

instead of just saying “Your professor called you,” grab a random last name and say “Prof Yoon asked to see you in his office.” instead of saying you went to the cafe, the mall, the store, grab an actual place or make one up because no one in the world says “they’re going to the cafe to grab a frappe,” (unless the store’s name is actually The Cafe). people say they’re going to Dunkin Donuts or Coffeebreak or wherever.

sure it’s not plot relevant, sure it’s not integral, but little things like this make your narrative and dialogue a lot more realistic and less awkward. it makes it seem like your characters are actually living inside a world of their own.

*

#6 GRAMMAR AND FORMATTING.

these are given HAHA but when i talk about grammar, i mean making sure that the commas and periods are consistently inside the quotation marks when writing dialogue. i mean minimizing the use of italics because overusing it can ruin the reading experience of a good piece (i was guilty of this too!) and i mean making sure that the use of tenses are consistent all throughout (unless if it’s a creative and plot choice), because all these things really matter if you want your fic, drabble, or blurb to be of overall high quality.

and that’s basically it! hope these tips help somehow...hope i’m not revealing my secrets for naught and someone can actually put them to good use HHAHAHHA what’s most important obviously is that you’re having fun with what you’re writing…etc. etc. insert inspirational you can do it speech here.

anyway, happy new year! and happy reading and writing<33

[sscieloz]

A little help

Aeri Uchinaga x aespa5thmember! reader

Synopsis: You’ve been stressed from your group’s tour: so many shows and planes have been tiring you off. Thankfully you have an special bandmate to help you with that.

Giselle helps you use Ning’s vibrator.

Warnings: smut, dirty talk ?, gets kinda rough ?, mentions of blood — reader is a virgin, nsfw. dom!giselle x sub!reader.

Word count: 3.2k

Notes: I MIGHT (like 85% might) rewrite this bc I fucking hated it. It’s too repetitive, I think. But I wanted to post it anyway so enjoy I guess xx. Not checking for any errors tho ˆˆ muah. I’ll try to improve for next time!! write something new, perhaps. We’ll see.

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3

-

“Ning let me have it.” You display the sparkly green vibrator in front of Giselle, showing off the horrible thing to her as if it were your most prized possession. “She said she doesn’t need it anymore now that she has her girlfriend’s long ass fingers.”

Giselle dropped her phone, finally giving you the attention you wanted.

“She did not say that.” She snatched the toy out of your hands, and you let yourself fall in her bed, scoffing.

“Ok, she didn’t say that, exactly, but she did let me keep it.” You looked at her with sparkly eyes, giggling with excitement. “Will you help me try it? The shows are killing me, and I’ve been dying to use it the whole week.”

Giselle stopped staring at the thing with disgust, looking at you instead. “Why didn’t you?” She asked, curiously.

“Why didn’t I what?” You frowned at her question, too busy with your phone: Karina was asking if you wanted to go swimming later. The Uchinaga grabbed your phone, throwing it away to the other side of her big bed. “Hey!” You protested, shooting her a hard glance.

“Why didn’t you use it, then, if you were dying to all week?” She repeated herself, already feeling her core heatening up. Specially when you refused to look at her in the eyes, shrugging weakly.

“Because you know best.” You answered shyly, remembering her words from the dorm, on the other day. “Right?”

Giselle’s eyes darkened, and she stood her hand for you to take, guiding you to the middle of the bed. She smirked, perhaps a bit too wickedly, caressing your long hair until her fingers ran out of length.

“Right, of course.”

-

You caught yourself looking at her eagerly, hands on your sides to see what she’d do, following her lead towards the center of the bed.

Sure, you could be in your room, pleasuring yourself, but you’ve tried to — too many times, and none of them felt as good as the pleasure you’ve had with Giselle’s fingers. Also, you two were friends, right? And it was just sex, as she’d said it before. Nothing changed between you after that day at the dorm, so surely nothing would change now. You just needed a little help.

She was still only staring at you, which made you look away, feeling your face start to get red.

“Aren’t you going to do anything?” You mumbled, impatient and embarrassed to have her focus solemn on you.

“You need to undress first, Yn.” She said, giggling. You pouted, knowing you were still too shy to do it, but she cut you off before you could whine. “Don’t you want me to help? I can’t do it if you’re still so full of layers.” Giselle gestured to your clothes. Seeing how you still made no move to take them off, she got closer, tapping the hems of your top. “Come on, Yn. We’ve been past this. You have a beautiful body, ok? Stunning, even. And I want to see you.”

Her words helped you gain a little more confidence, and you really wanted to get yourself off, so you quickly removed your top and your shorts, panties following with much more ease than last time. Your bandmate’s hands went straight to your breasts, pinching your nipples slightly as she checked for your reaction, grinning when she was met with the sound of your moans.

“N-no teasing.” You told her as Giselle’s mouth went straight to one of your breasts, her other hand massaging the neglected one with a squeeze.

“But your tits are so pretty, Yn.” She praised, mouth leaving your chest with a trail of saliva in her mouth. She cleaned it off, reveling herself with how hungry you looked at her eyes.

Giselle had waited, eagerly, for you to come back to her, not wanting to make things awkward or to have you uncomfortable in the slightest. You were friends and bandmates, most importantly, and she wouldn’t trade that for any sex in the world.

So when you showed up with that horrid green thing in your hands, Giselle already knew she’d have a handful, having to remind herself to take things slow; you were still too naive, and she’d teach you just right, without rushing anything.

But fuck her if you staring at her with your big, doe eyes full of lust didn’t nearly make her lose it all and straight up fuck you until you were crying and begging for her to stop.

You pushed yourself further to face her front, so close you could feel her breathing, too. It was fast, erratic, and it made you smile to know you riled her up as much as she did to you. Your fingers caressed her arms, pleading with your sweetest voice. “I want to see you too, Unnie. Pretty please? You didn’t let me last time.” You reminded her, making Giselle laugh and distance herself to take her clothes off, this time.

“Your reward for asking so sweetly, then.” She said, winking at you as you took her in. She was beautiful, almost alluringly so, and it made you salivate at the thought of making her shudder, too. However, you knew she wouldn’t allow that to happen now, so you let yourself be pulled back to the big pillows of the bed as Giselle reached for the green toy, pressing it on the lowest mode.

You can’t seem to take your eyes off her as she spat onto her hand, bringing it to your pussy as her saliva is spread in your slit, humming in delight as it mixes it with your growing wetness. It makes you moan loudly, reaching for her to get a glimpse of her touch, her skin—anything. She was still focused, though, toying with you as she grins.

“So soaked already, baby? But we’ve barely started playing.” You mumbled something entirely incoherent, closing your eyes as you felt her fingers teasing in, two of them circling you up and down. She rubbed a few circles on your clit before entering sloppily, the sounds of it echoing through the room with your moans.

You felt a light tug on your hair, but Giselle’s mouth was soon all over your collarbone. Before you could even complain, she was sucking and marking your skin, your moans escalating with each passing moment. As much as you love to have her mouth on you— and God, you love it so much, you need more, and it doesn’t take much to make you into a pleading mess. You mutter pleases and mores until the words from your mouth make no sense to your brain anymore: all you can think is how hot your skin feels, and how slow Giselle’s fingers are working on you.

“Do you need something else, pup?” The older girl asks, looking at you greedily as you whine.

Of course, Giselle knows exactly what you want, what you need. You reached out to her asking for it, after all. Yet, she will still make you beg.

Her nose brushes your ear as she takes her fingers out of you completely now, making her busy with spreading your wetness all over your abdomen. “You look… restless. If you want something, you just have to say it, you know? I promise I’ll give it to you.”

She’s mean, and you so desperately want to smack that sneaky grin out of her face. However, her humid fingers are pinching your nipples, and the curses slip from your thoughts. Your mind is clouded by the urge of surrendering to her, so she’ll give what you so desperately want as fast as possible.

“I w-want.” You try to say, but she’s sucking on your sensitive breasts once again, already so sensitive from her teasing before and— “Oh, fuck! Please…”

“I do need more than just pleases, though.” Her strong hands squeezed your boobs, making you let out a low growl. It was painful, but how come it felt so good? You couldn’t master the feeling. “Say it, and it’s yours. What do you want, Yn?” She indulged, loving to see your reactions.

You were too spoiled for your own good. Being the maknae had its privileges, you’d say. The girls— all of them, often showered you with praises and presents, taking extra care to do whatever you asked them to. Wether it was to fetch some water later at night because you hated to get through the dark hallway of the dorm to go to the kitchen; or changing a step in the new choreography because you felt too silly doing it, and it made you uncomfortable; they’d spoil you rotten: you’d never have to say the same thing twice. Just think about it, and it was done for you.

Naturally, Giselle making you beg made you restless. It made you hate yourself, too, with how wet you got from her making you do it— humiliate yourself for her. How much you loved to be completely at her mercy.

“I want the, f-fuck. You to fuck me with the vibrator. Now.” She lifted an eyebrow at your impatient tone, but you held her gaze with defiance.

“Forgetting our manners, are we?” Giselle asked, gripping your chin as she muttered against your breath. “Do I have to let you do it yourself, then? If you’re so sure of it?”

“No!” You pleaded, all the confidence gone from your tone as you held her, to keep her from going away. “Please, please fuck me, unnie. You know it feels better when you do it.” The older girl laughs as you try to use all your strength to pull her in. “I can take it, I swear. I’ve been p-practicing.”

Giselle’s eyes went dark again, and she cocked her head at you.

“What do you mean by practicing?” She was no longer touching you now. It was almost painful to not have her on you, and you already missed the sensation of your skin on fire, all red, bruised and filled with her saliva. “Have you been touching yourself without me, Yn?” Her tone was harsh, and it made you recoil a bit at her coldness, stuttering as you whispered.

“Maybe?” Her touch was back, thankfully, though slightly different from before. It was decisive, intense—almost rasp, the way her hands squeezed your hips, your thighs, your arms, no longer caring about not leaving marks or scratches on your tanned skin. You were sure there was a big pool of wetness on the sheets, and she hadn’t even used the damn toy on you yet.

God, she was so hot like this, handling you the way she wanted to.

“We will have none of that, baby.” She announced, suckling— no, biting on your neck harshly before retreating to grab the vibrator. “I’m just going to have to teach you the hard way, then.”

It certainly shouldn’t arouse you that much.

-

You watched eagerly as Giselle positioned the vibrator against your cunt, biting her lip at the sight of you: hair clinging onto your back, skin marked in bruises, with your beautiful chest moving up and down fast from excitement.

“I still don’t think you can take it, though.” She told you as she entered the tip of the toy on your slit. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make you wince at the discomfort.

You did want this, though. You wanted more.

“I want this. Please.” You reminded her, trying to push yourself, so it’d reach deeper. Giselle immediately gripped your hips, stopping you from moving. “I can take it, I promise.”

She compelled to your wishes, positioning herself a bit higher so she could start thrusting on you. It did hurt, and you winced. She went slow at first, kissing your neck as her muttered praises against your skin, nibbling her teeth through the skin.

“Don’t tense, baby. Just take deep breaths for me, okay?” She asked as you nodded, slowly soaking in with each thrust. She kept the toy a little deeper with each passing time, and soon your groans were replaced with moans of pleasure. It still burned, but the combo of her soothing your skin and the repeated movements made you cry for more.

“More, please.” You said, bucking your hips, so she’d speed her rhythm. When Giselle didn’t, you grabbed her wrist, forcing the vibrator against your cunt, hoping it’d reach deeper. Your erratic movements, however, made her nails immediately dig into your thighs.

Shortly, she switched back, her other hand brushing your neck teasingly as she opened a dangerous smirk.

“Do you want to do this on your own? Since you’re so eager to take the lead yourself.” Your bandmate asked, her cocky tone matching the way she looked down on you. It wasn’t a sight you were used to, being taller than her and constantly towering over the older girl, but it aroused you just the same.

You simply denied, being slapped on your thighs in response. “Words, Yn.”

“N-no.”

“No, what?”

“I want you to d-do it for me.” you placed wet kisses on her neck, a whiny mess. “Please, Unnie. Please make me cum.”

And just like that, the green piece was positioned on your slit again, making you shudder.

Giselle thrusted the toy all the way in, making you scream as you gasped for air. Her eyes were trained on your pussy, adjusting herself, so she’d give your clit attention, too. It was too fast for you, with the pleasure building up in quick waves down your abdomen.

“Wait! It’s too mu-“ You tried to say, but Giselle locked her lips on yours with hunger. She licked your lips sloppily, not once motioning to listen to your pleadings.

“Wait for what?” she mocked your tone, wasting no time pushing the dildo all the way in. “You said you could take it, right? That you were ready?” her pupils were blown, and she had a wicked grin on her face—if you weren’t so focused on getting your breath and adjusting to the pain of being stretched, you’d notice how much she was enjoying herself. God, she loved to have this power over you. Of how you were so quick to beg, completely on her mercy, ready to do whenever she wanted you to. “So take it.”

Giselle kept marking you, alternating between kissing your lips and leaving hickeys on your neck— like you weren’t on tour and wearing such revealing outfits lately. “You should see yourself like this, Yn.” She murmured as her fingers circled your clit roughly, applying trained pressure and making you feel sure you’d go crazy at any given moment. You rolled your eyes, drunk with all the different sensations. “So pretty, doing so good.” The praise grounded you, making you hum as you clung onto her, lifting your back from the cushions, so you’d be even closer.

You felt the pleasure completely overcome you, making you scratch Giselle’s back without thinking about being gentle, either.

“I’m going to c-cum.” You announced, hoping she wouldn’t try to make you wait. You wouldn’t be able to, since your orgasm quickly overcame you, along with the strange sensation of having to pee straight away. It didn’t help that your bandmate hadn’t stopped thrusting, either. If only, she’d resumed her movements to slow thrusts, making sure to twist and play with the green toy however she saw fit.

“Beautiful.” It was the only thing she said, and it was making you crazy that she wouldn’t stop. With her eyes trained on your body, she saw the way your abdomen was still fast in its movements, trying to match your heavy breathing.

You mumbled, scooping her as you felt Giselle take the toy away from your pussy to place herself next to you. She knew how needy you got after you came, so the girl quickly gathered you in her arms as she kissed your hair, murmuring praises and sweet things to you.

“M’ tired.” You told her, even though you knew you had to get yourself cleaned up.

“I know, baby. I’ll help you, though. You won’t have to do much.” She grabbed a great piece of your hair— which was drenched in sweat, moving it away from your sweaty body.

Her words made you giggle. You specially liked when she took care of you, even more in moments like these, although it still made you reluctant to accept her help. “I can do it by myself, Unnie. It’s ok.” You assured her, staring at her adorable pout.

It amused you how quickly she would switch on those situations.

“Of course you can.” Giselle blushed, suddenly shy. Her tone was hesitant as she continued, her fingers lightly tracing your collarbone, still all red and coated with her dry saliva. “It doesn’t mean you should, though. You’re tired, and probably very sore. Let me, please? I can even give you that massage you’ve been whining so much to get.” She offered, and you took a moment to think about it.

It wasn’t the wisest decision, to be this close after such an intimate moment, specially when the two of you had a silent agreement to make it just about sex. About pleasure.

But you were tired, sore, and needy, so you allowed yourself to be held by Giselle as she took you to the bathtub, washing you up and changing the messy, bloodied sheets before you nested yourself on her million cushions.

“Just this once.” You told her, crawling towards the middle of her bed with wet hair and one of her silk pajamas — the ones you loved and Giselle always hid, so you wouldn’t steal from her.

The message was clear: no attachments, just friendship and sex. It was as simple as daylight.

As if any of you could have a clear idea over whatever your silent agreement was.

Giselle nodded, cuddling you as she turned the tv on, scrolling over Netflix for the drama she had been watching lately.

“Sure.” She said, although her tone bore a bit of mockery as she watched you besides her, eyes closed and a peaceful look on your face, as if you hadn’t gotten railed like crazy earlier. “Just this once.” She repeated herself, in a low tone.

You slept soundly for the first time in days.

-

“I messaged Karina, by the way.” You heard her say, moments before you drifted off. “Told her you weren’t feeling so good, so you’d skip the pool.”

You scoffed, mumbling with closed eyes.

“I wanted to go swimming, though.” You felt Giselle poke your ribs, and you tried your best not to laugh, pretending you were mad at her. “Kill joy.”

“I should just let her knock on your door, then, since you always close it properly.” She teased, making you flutter your eyes open, embarrassed.

“You wouldn’t!”

She laughed soundly, loving to mock you. “Oh, Y/n. I would.”

[beigepillow]

It seems to me that after 4 years, Doumeki and Yashiro have switched places, and the situation itself is repeated. There is an enemy. There is danger. There is misunderstanding. One is ready to put up with just sex. The other tries to wear a mask as if he doesn't care. One tries to protect the other from danger. The other gets into this danger just to be close. The only thing is, I'm really afraid that the same story will repeat itself with how Yashiro tried to stop Doumeki to protect him. No matter how anyone justifies his actions, they were cruel both physically and mentally. I'm afraid that since we are in some kind of repetition of events, Doumeki can also do something similar to protect Yashiro. And here I'm afraid not because it will be bad for the plot, but for the reaction of the fans. Doumeki is not Yashiro, so fans will clearly not forgive him for this. Therefore, I hope that at this stage the vicious circle will be broken and they will work together against the enemy.

I agree. Most of my predictions, although old atp, follow that line of thinking. Doumeki pushing Yashiro away or forcing more distance between them would work as a narrative tool to force Yashiro to confront his feelings and what he wants. I don’t think they’ll necessarily work together because again multiple people including Yashiro’s own boss have told him to back off. And I’m glad you acknowledged Yashiro’s actions as cruel bc it was cruel. He hit and SHOT Doumeki while putting him down verbally. This would be considered abusive if anyone but Yashiro did it. People tend to overlook it because Yashiro is a fan favorite and Doumeki was “forcing” himself on Yashiro but neglect to mention that Yashiro was basically trying to commit suicide. He wasn’t just there to force Yashiro into a relationship with him. And you’re absolutely right. Doumeki will not be forgiven by the fans bc Doumeki is never given the benefit of the doubt or is generally seen as the worse of the two. I am sure if a repeat were to happen, people will applaud Yashiro for wanting to protect him even though Doumeki was also trying to do that too. We already see the double standards with Doumeki being distant now. There is so much focus on where Doumeki can improve or where he is wrong while Yashiro is seen as just doing the best he can and having noble intentions at all times. I mean he literally beat Doumeki for getting the yakuza tattoo and it was simply seen as Yashiro wanting to protect him from the yakuza. No one talks about how Yashiro displays abusive behavior towards Doumeki. I don’t expect that to change at this point. Whatever issues happen will always be Doumeki’s fault.

[alexa-yukiyu]

Tough Swordplay ( Mihawk x gn!winged!child!reader)

A/N: We’ve got a slightly older Reader in this one, around 10? Enough for them to reach that sass stage 🙄 IT’s BREWING GUYS, THE IDEAS ARE BREWING, MY BRAIN IS OVERFLOWING. I have ideas for more Dracule!Reader Shanks!Reader , Bro even Donquixote!Reader (of the better brother of course 😳) and even more fandoms!

I also wanted to take a small second to thank you guys, it has been my dream to have my little group of people who I can share my writing with and receive reactions from, to share opinions on! So thank you!

Dividers by @/saradika

They jump out of the way just in time to evade their father's attack only to miss the very next attack and end up falling to the ground

“Ow, I almost had it.”

Mihawk sheathed his sword as he watched.

“Hm, you are improving; your reaction time is better... You still need a lot of improvement” He said flatly.

They pout pulling two more long feathers from their wings, wielding them like swords as they got into position once again

“That’s much better... You’re finally starting to understand the difference between defending and attacking. Your footwork could use some work.” He said rapidly unsheathing Yoru.

“Your feet are too heavy and are slowing down your balance and agility, and you overcorrect when you are pushed off-balance. The moment my attack forces you back is the moment you have already lost.” He points out

“You are too eager to make your next attack. When defending and attacking there is a window of opportunity. When your opponent attacks, that is your window to strike.”

They frown, dashing towards him, ready to strike

He waited patiently for their attack while his own hands were in a position. As they struck, Mihawk used their own momentum to redirect the attack over himself before he countered, forcing them to stumble.

“Your form of attack lacks a proper flow. You should not be predictable. Instead of dashing at me, try to mix your movements.”

“Don't let your opponent know your next move. Be fast, unpredictable, and most importantly, be ready to react.”

“Agh! If you want unpredictably, you got it, idiot!” they growl as more feathers fall from their wings and are sent their father's way, immediately regretting both the action and their words.

“Oops…W-Wait, dad I din’t mean to,” they chuckle nervously

Mihawk narrowed his eyebrows but couldn’t contain his smile.

“... Impressive.”

“Just as I expected, you are improving,” Mihawk replied as he was finally able to be pleased.

“Your unpredictability was great, but... You are still rather obvious as your attacks tend to be slow and your footing heavy.” He added in.

They sigh in relief at their words only to wince at his following words

“However, I thought I had told you this was sword training. Did I not warn you against using your other attacks and focusing on your sword? And what was it that you call me earlier?”

“H-hah w-well, it was just an accident, a slip up!”

“Accidents are just convenient excuses for a lack of commitment,” Mihawk said, sharply approaching his kid.

A sharp wine can be heard across the training ground.

“Dad, it has been an hour of me practicing this sword move, can I please stop now? I learned my lesson!” They whine, a bump prominent on the back of their head part of the punishment they had received for their slip up; currently they were serving the second part of their punishment, stuck doing the very same sword movement repetition with a wooden practice sword

“... Another hour.”

“Come on! I said it was an accident!”

“An accidental misuse of your power is still a misuse in my book. I warned you about mixing up your attack style and you disobeyed what I said. You are too reliant on your wings” Mihawk replied, not moving a muscle, now sitting nearby with the newspaper

“Accidental misuse,” they grumble mockingly

Mihawk doesn’t flinch as he continues reading the newspaper.

“I heard that,” Mihawk said sharply without looking away from the newspaper.

“Just for that, make it three hours.”

“Come on!”

They pout, continuing their movements with the wooden sword

‘Jerk,’

“Five.”

“W-w- But I didn’t even do anything this time; I din’t even say anything!”

Mihawk raises an eyebrow with a small smirk appearing on his face for a brief second before disappearing.

“Im you’re father. I raised you, and I know what you are thinking just by your expressions.”

“Sorry, Dad” they mumble, getting back to their sword practice

Mihawk sighs, now with a small smile on his face.

“I am merely trying to help you improve. You cannot afford any mistakes. You must be ready for anything. You know full well that the world isn’t like some practice room, and even the slightest mistakes in a fight against your enemy can cost you everything,” Mihawk said, his voice being far kinder than before.

“I know…

“Good,” Mihawk replied as he watched over their kid.

“I know that I may come off as harsh at times, but that is because I care about you. The last thing that I would want is for you to end up dead because of a mistake or for some weakling to look down on you.” Mihawk said with a sigh.

They smile at him

“Thank you, dad”

“You're welcome... But it still does not diminish the length of this punishment.” Mihawk replied with a smirk.

“Seriously?! After all that?! That's so stupid!”

“…What was that?”

“W-wait!”

“OW! THAT ONE HURT! IM SORRY!”

They jump out of the way just in time to evade their father's attack only to miss the very next attack and end up falling to the ground

“Ow, I almost had it.”

Mihawk sheathed his sword as he watched.

“Hm, you are improving; your reaction time is better.”

“... You still need a lot of improvement, however.” He said flatly.

They pout pulling two more long feathers from their wings, wielding them like swords as they got into position once again

“That’s much better... You’re finally starting to understand the difference between defending and attacking.”

“However... Your footwork could use some work.”

“Your feet are too heavy and are slowing down your balance and agility, and you overcorrect when you are pushed off-balance. The moment my attack forces you back is the moment you have already lost.”

“You are too eager to make your next attack. When defending and attacking there is a window of opportunity. When your opponent attacks, that is your window to strike.”

They frown, dashing towards ready to strike

He waited patiently for their attack while his own hands were in a position. As they struck, Mihawk used their own momentum to redirect the attack over himself before he countered, forcing them to stumble..

“Your form of attack lacks a proper flow. You should not be predictable. Instead of dashing at me, try to mix your movements.”

“Don't let your opponent know your next move. Be fast, unpredictable, and most importantly, be ready to react.”

“Agh! If you want unpredictably, you got it, idiot!” they growl as more feathers fall from their wings and are sent their father's way

“Oops…W-Wait, dad I din’t mean to,” they chuckle nervously

Mihawk narrowed his eyebrows but couldn’t contain his smile.

“... Impressive.”

“Just as I expected, you are improving,” Mihawk replied as he was finally able to be pleased.

“Your unpredictability was great, however... You are still rather obvious as your attacks tend to be slow and your footing heavy.” He added in.

They sigh in relief at their words only to wince at his following words

“However, I thought I had told you this was sword training. Did I not warn you against using your other attacks and focusing on your sword?”

“H-hah w-well, it was just an accident…”

“Accidents are just convenient excuses for a lack of commitment,” Mihawk said, sharply approaching his kid

A sharp wine can be heard across the training ground

“Dad, it has been an hour of me practicing this sword move, can I please stop now? I learned my lesson!” They whine, a bump prominent on the back of their head part of the punishment they had received for their mishap; currently they were serving the second part of their punishment, stuck doing the very same sword movement repetition with a wooden practice sword

“... Another hour.”

“Come on! I said it was an accident!”

“An accidental misuse of your power is still a misuse in my book. I warned you about mixing up your attack style and you disobeyed what I said. You are too reliant on your wings” Mihawk replied, not moving a muscle, now sitting nearby with the newspaper

“Accidental misuse,” they grumble mockingly

Mihawk doesn’t flinch as he continues reading the newspaper; he glances up at them, narrowing their eyes.

“I heard that,” Mihawk said sharply without looking away from the newspaper.

“Just for that, make it three hours.”

“Come on!”

They pout, continuing their movements with the wooden sword

‘Jerk,’ they think to themselves

“Five.”

“W-w- But I didn’t even do anything this time; I din’t even say anything!”

Mihawk raises an eyebrow with a small smirk appearing on his face for a brief second before disappearing.

“Im you’re father. I raised you, and i know what you are thinking just by your expressions.”

“Sorry, Dad” they mumble, getting back to their sword practice

Mihawk sighs, now with a small smile on his face.

“I am merely trying to help you improve. You cannot afford any slip-ups. You must be ready for anything. You know full well that the world isn’t like some practice room, and even the slightest mistakes in a fight against your enemy can cost you everything,” Mihawk said, his voice being far kinder than before.

“I know…

“Good,” Mihawk replied as he watched over their kid.

“I know that I may come off as harsh at times, but that is because I care about you. The last thing that I would want is for you to end up dead because of a mistake or for some weakling to look down on you.” Mihawk said with a sigh.

They smile at him

“Thank you, dad”

“You're welcome... But it still does not diminish the length of this punishment.” Mihawk replied with a smirk.

“Seriously?! After all that?! That's so stupid! You’re stupid!”

“…What was that?”

“W-wait!”

“OW! THAT ONE HURT! IM SORRY!”

GUYS AM I COOKING OR WHAT?! We got the wholesomeness, we got the tough love, we got the small smiles and smirks from Mihawk TELL ME I DIN’T COOK RIGHT HERE.

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

[magentagalaxies]

Kids in the Archive: Episode 10

welcome back to kids in the archive! to celebrate my college graduation + KITA's 10th installment + finally honor the request i received from @oliviaskithworld multiple months ago (thank you for your patience!) today i'm going to be showcasing the classic s1e3 sketch "Citizen Kane"

even if there are other sketches that i would choose as my personal favorite, i respect "citizen kane" so much as a feat of comedic timing. the premise and dialogue are funny enough, but what puts them over the top is the perfect rhythm kevin and dave establish - fast-paced dialogue that's occasionally repetitive in its text but each repetition leads to escalation in the performance.

Citizen Kane: June 3rd 1989

I actually have two copies of the script for Citizen Kane: both dated 06/03/89, and nearly identical, to each other and to the version of the sketch that aired. There really aren't many differences to point out: some sentences are shorter or longer for the purpose of timing, and there is one specific line missing from the "white" pages that's present in the "pink" pages

i assume the version i have may not be a first draft - this was likely a scene performed at the rivoli for years before making it to the screen. or perhaps this scene was mostly created via improv, so the first time on paper was less an act of creation and more documenting what already existed. the only "big" changes are removing a section of brief physical comedy before picking up the newspaper (which was not being held by another customer).

honestly, as much as i wish i could've honored this request in a timely manner, the wait has allowed this episode to be so much better. this could have been it. i would have had to stretch these tiny differences into 3 bullet points because i just couldn't show you how the sketch evolved. except, as i write this on december 21st 2024, now i can. but we have to push a bit further...

Citizen Kane: ~2002

the kids in the hall tour-film "tour of duty" was unavailable to stream for most of this year before finally being reuploaded by a fan in november. i've previously put out a full essay with general thoughts on tour of duty, but let's examine the show's version of citizen kane.

tour of duty's "citizen kane" barely changes, especially compared to some of the other sketches in this show. sure, the words don't always line up exactly and the rhythm is a bit slower (a product of enunciating for a large theater vs recording a sketch for television), but most changes are physical. in the original sketch, a fake-arm was made for dave foley for the purposes of stabbing his hand. in this one, a prop-knife was used for the effect, freeing up both hands for motioning. most notably, this version ends with dave falling out of his chair and flipping 360 degrees before landing on the floor.

immediately following the sketch is a transitional scene with bruce and mark, where they essentially replicate the "citizen kane" bit of forgetting a name and refusing to admit you're wrong, only this time they're trying to remember the name of the sketch they just watched. it's cute.

Citizen Kane: November 25th 2024

so that's all well and good, but still not a lot of differences to parse through. what would it take for them to take citizen kane in a completely different direction?

well, what if 22 years later the kids in the hall reunited to put on a show in support of paul bellini's medical expenses, but dave foley wasn't able to attend due to pneumonia and the other kids barely had time to rehearse?

a high-quality version of the full show will be available in the new year, but recently i found a fan's uploads of a few iconic sketches from the november 2024 show, including the perfect finale to my citizen kane post, because oh boy did they go off-script. for starters, the original "citizen kane" as uploaded onto youtube is 4 minutes and 16 seconds. the "tour of duty" version (not counting bruce and mark's tag) is just under 6 minutes long. the november 2024 version is NEARLY TEN MINUTES LONG

and uniquely i am actually in a position to explain how these changes happened: scott was chosen to take over dave's part in the sketch the day of the show. they added mark walking on as "constable bobby" as a way to acknowledge dave's absence (and i was actually riffing with mark, kevin, and scott when they decided the character's name. in rehearsal, mark improvised a bit about his character going undercover as a teenager). but scott responding to kevin's "was it citizen kane?" with "yes"? bruce walking on as another officer? kevin kissing scott's forehead when scott apologized for forgetting his line? that was all truly improvised, and i was standing backstage watching it happen.

prior to the show, citizen kane was one of the sketches scott was the most nervous about since it's actually quite difficult to memorize: so much of the comedy relies on repetition and timing. i've probably watched the sketch more times in the past year than he has and even i wouldn't get it word-for-word. but once you're out there onstage, you can't beat yourself up over forgetting a line. you make that part of the gag, and suddenly the sketch becomes citizen kane on top of citizen kane: a sketch about someone forgetting something and ignoring their friend's corrections becomes about scott forgetting his lines and ignoring kevin's corrections.

there's no way the kids in the hall could've replicated everything about citizen kane on the evening of november 25th 2024: the sketch was at least 35 years old, it was being performed with minimal sets and costumes in a 1500-seat theater, and the person whose comedic voice it most represented wasn't around. but in my opinion, citizen kane 2.0 reflects exactly what a live version of a pre-existing kids in the hall sketch should be: using the well-known framework as a basis for improv while still being grounded to the important beats. this attitude carried over into the night's other sketches, even ones which didn't feature dave at all like "salty ham." it gives fans new and old something new to appreciate, and allows the KITH to focus on making each other laugh. after scott got off the stage, he wasn't upset for flubbing citizen kane. he was smiling ear-to-ear, whispering to me "i forgot how fun this was". i would take this over "tour of duty" any day

or maybe i'm just saying that because i now own 2024 citizen kane's prop-knife

oh, and don't think i've forgotten the one line that changed between my two scripts, both dated 06/03/89.

"that's a hayley mills vehicle, that's not even close"

and because of scott's role in the 2024 show, i now know that's the one line HE contributed, leading me to believe the "white" pages were just kevin and dave's writing, and the "pink" pages were after the input of the other KITH on the same day.

god, i love how things become full-circle.

...

PREVIOUS KIDS IN THE ARCHIVE EPISODES:

Episode 1 - armada finale ("do we make it?") Episode 2 - fran & gordon: the vacation Episode 3 - comfortable Episode 4 - cathy & kathi: is he? Episode 5 - danny husk: kidnapped! Episode 6 - trappers Episode 7 - sizzlers & the bank Episode 8 - darcy & francesca Episode 9 - show within a show

thanks for reading!

[its-in-the-water]

Coping mechanism while sitting at the vets office: Writing more fluffy/ridiculous One Night spin-off one-shots where Tron will do anything for Sam, up to and including taking Gem's advice on suspicious add-ons.

It's the only way somedays.

“How long has it been?” 

Tron didn't bother to lift his head from where it rested on his outstretched arm. He stared at his full glass of energy, only half-aware of the End of Line customers mingling around him. They were all laughing and dancing and talking and drinking as though their source of light and life and purpose hadn't been gone for–

“Four hundred and twenty-two millicycles,” he replied dully. 

Gem leaned on the bar next to him, her figure warping as he watched her through his glass. After a long, quiet moment, she said, “He'll be back.” Her tone was stilted, uncomfortable. The kind of tone one would use when the Grid’s most powerful program couldn't even lift his head off the bartop.

Tron wanted to agree, but sometimes he wondered. Last time, Sam had mentioned that he needed to work on something in his world, without going into details. At that moment, giving his User a final blowjob before he stepped into the portal, Tron hadn't worried about it. Sam would return soon, he always did. He liked to “Stop in on his way to the office,” he'd explained. Giving him a schedule of opening the portal approximately every sixty millicycles.

Still too long, in Tron’s mind, but manageable.

Four hundred and twenty-two… was not manageable. 

There wasn't enough action on the Grid to keep him occupied for that long. The games were hollow. The other programs were like shadows in the dark, uninteresting. But he couldn't risk going offline to pass the time, not when he was supposed to protect the system. 

Leaving him miserable.

Miserable… and wondering.

Had something happened to Sam in his world? Was he lost? Hurt?

Or just… not interested… anymore? Bored of the Grid with all its many limitations? Bored of its… repetition?

He wheezed and rolled his head, pressing his face into his arm to block out the light. “Is he bored of me?” He hadn't intended to say it out loud, but the depressed moan wafted out. Hopefully, the music drowned out his voice.

“Then make yourself less boring,” Gem said, dashing his hopes of going unnoticed.

A frisson of Rinzler’s ire crackled through his circuits at the insult. His eyes snapped open and he glared at the siren, but when she only quirked a brow and gazed down at him serenely, he sank back onto his arm. He had never had to even consider making himself anything other than what he was–CLU2 had done that for him. Sam had never asked him to be different, he always seemed happy with Tron’s service.

But. He wasn't there. So how happy could he be?

“How?” he muttered sullenly.

Gem's lips pursed in the faintest smirk. 

Suspicious, Tron narrowed his eyes. “I'm not going to overwrite any of my programming.”

“No need to overwrite anything. There are other options.” When he continued staring at her, she finished, “An add-on.”

He recoiled, straightening away from her. “An add-on?! Me?!” Add-ons were cheap tools used by programs to compensate for inadequate coding. Not by complete and extremely complex programs like him. He never used add-ons. “I'm not missing anything.”

Gem propped her chin on her palm and looked him over, her long lashes fluttering. “Not missing anything,” she agreed. “Not exactly. However, I do wonder if there's something you don't have. Something that will improve your versatility.”

“I'm already versatile.”

“Not in battle. With the User.”

He froze as he realized what she meant.

Perhaps thinking that he was too basic to pick up on her meaning, she added, “Something that Sam Flynn might find… interesting.”

His argument against add-ons was like a lightcycle slamming into a light trail: It collapsed and shattered in a ball of energy flames.

Because she was correct. 

There was something he didn't have.

Hesitantly, and surprising himself that he would even entertain the idea, he asked, “Will it… impair my abilities?”

“No. You can set it to activate only when in proximity to the User. That way you won’t even notice it until he’s here.”

He shouldn't. It could be dangerous. Add-ons could carry malware, and he must remain clean of corruption. 

But what if this was the only way to keep Sam coming back?

The Rinzler in him growled. Was he afraid? Any risk was worth it if it meant having Sam back with him.

It had no impact on his performance as a security program, but… but it could have an impact on what he could offer to Sam. And both he and his hungry Rinzler codes would stop at nothing to offer everything to Sam.

His circuits trembled as he dared to consider it… To calm them, he finally took a long, long draught of his drink. After swallowing the effervescent energy, he met her gaze again, this time hesitantly. “Ah… How would one… acquire such an add-on?”

“One merely needs to ask,” Gem murmured. She rolled her gleaming eyes up toward Castor's lounge. “Ask… and bring your drink upstairs.”

[colouredbyd]

I’ve always admired the way you write and how you can make people feel so much just through words. You somehow always find the right way to say things, and it never feels repetitive or forced. Even though you’re only seventeen, you write with so much emotion and honesty—it’s really inspiring.

Honestly, sometimes I get scared to even share my writing. I start overthinking everything—like, is it good enough? Are people going to feel anything when they read it, or just scroll past it? I see how you write, how you just seem to get it right every time, and I wonder if I’m even close to that. I get stuck using the same words over and over again, and it feels like I’m just circling around what I want to say but never actually getting there.

Sometimes I’ll write something and just stare at it, trying to decide if it’s worth sharing. Other times, I don’t even want to start because I’m already convinced it won’t turn out the way I want. I guess what I’m trying to say is—how do you push past that? How do you keep finding the right words without getting caught up in all the doubt? You are amazing Dalia :)

-🪩

thank you so much for saying that, it genuinely means everything to me🌷💗

i think there’s something so beautiful about writing—about putting pieces of your heart into words and watching them grow into something real, something that reaches people. to know that you feel that through my writing is genuinely everything.

and honestly, i get it. that fear of sharing your writing? it’s so, so real. i’ve been there, and sometimes, i’m still there!

writing has been part of my life for as long as i can remember. it all started when i was around 9 (fully blaming my parents for giving me way too much media access ). i discovered wattpad, and i would just get completely lost in those stories for hours. i remember thinking it was pure magic—how just words on a screen could make me feel so much. i think that’s when i knew: i wanted to do that too.

from there, i started reading so many books, anything i could get my hands on. i was obsessed with the idea of stories, how they could build entire worlds out of nothing. eventually, that obsession turned into me wanting to create my own. i started writing random little things, mostly just for me

when i was around 14, i fell into this massive Draco x y/n phase and even tried to shift (the dedication i had back then) i would write for hours, just pouring everything onto the page, but the idea of posting it? terrifying. it felt like exposing the softest, most fragile part of myself.

at some point, i realized i had over 160 fics just sitting in my drafts, untouched. all these stories and characters trapped behind a screen because i was too afraid to set them free. i kept telling myself “one day” but that day just never came. then this year, i don’t know what changed, but i finally decided to just… do it

fun fact: my first-ever post was on april 12, literally just a month ago—crazy, right? i posted two fics, honestly just for fun, and the amount of love and support i got? it was surreal. it gave me the courage to start freeing my drafts, one by one

and it’s wild because if you go back and read that first post from april 12 and then read something i’ve posted more recently, you’d definitely notice quite a difference. that first fic was actually written sometime in 2023 or early 2024, and you can just see the growth. i truly believe that the more you write, the more you naturally improve without even realizing it. your voice sharpens, your phrasing becomes smoother, and things start to click into place

if you’re ever looking for a little help with finding the right words, there’s this website called WordHippo that I swear by. you can type in any word or phrase, and it’ll give you synonyms, alternatives, even phrases that match. it’s a lifesaver, especially when you’re trying to avoid repetition or just want to make your writing feel more vivid

but as for the fear of sharing:

i want to dedicate this to every soul out there who holds stories in their hearts like fragile secrets, who has pages and pages tucked away in journals and documents, too afraid to let them see the light. to the ones who stare at their screens, fingers hovering over the “post” button, hearts racing with the ache of what if it’s not good enough? to the souls who write and rewrite, who bury their words in the safety of drafts because the idea of exposing them feels too raw, too real

i want you to know that there is nothing more beautiful than a story set free. that fear you feel? it means you care. it means your heart is in your hands, trembling but alive. the act of sharing your writing isn’t just about bravery; it’s about faith. faith that your words are worth hearing, that someone out there will feel them the way you felt them

i think sometimes we glamorize writing like it’s this untouchable art, like you have to be perfect to be heard, but that’s not true. the most moving stories are often the ones that are real, that are messy, that stumble over their own heartbeat.

the fear of being seen is only as strong as your desire to be heard. when that desire to be heard—to reach someone, anyone—outgrows the fear, you realize that even if it’s messy, even if it’s imperfect, it’s yours. and that’s enough

if you don’t set your stories free, they will haunt you with the weight of what could have been. you don’t want that ghost lingering in your chest, whispering what if every time you close your eyes

your words are seeds; let them grow

that’s actually why i named my blog The Secret Garden. it’s a place for those hidden seeds, those fragile stories waiting to bloom. i think every piece of writing is like that—a tiny piece of magic just waiting for its moment. you don’t always get to decide how or where it blooms, but you can decide to plant it. that’s the first step, and it’s the one that matters the most

and just remember, gardens aren’t made in a day. sometimes, you plant seeds that take a while to sprout. sometimes, the soil isn’t ready, and sometimes, neither are you! but if you keep planting, keep tending to the words you bury in ink and hope, one day, you’ll look up and find an entire world in bloom

whoever you are, anon, if you ever decide to post something, please tag me!! i would be so honored to read it and cheer you on. because your voice deserves to be heard, and your stories deserve to exist outside of your drafts. you are braver than you think, and your words are worth everything <3

[lizardsfromspace]

The problem with Lost's final season (full spoilers btw) isn't "unanswered questions" (after all the episode set aside to answer all the stray unanswered questions is one of the worst ones), it's that the flashsideways are bad. They're a bad idea that's not executed well

They don't feel organic to the story, but feel like they're there bc it's the final season and in final seasons you revisit old characters, and because the writers can't just remove the flash structure even if there's nothing to flash to anymore.

But the problem is that...okay. The flashbacks did hint at larger lore and connections, but each one also told a complete story about the character's life before the island, and more importantly, who they really were before the Island. It's important that Locke was in a wheelchair, but it's equally important to learn that Locke was a LARPing office worker with a desperate need to feel special. The flashforwards were pieces of a larger puzzle, but also told complete stories about how each character's life fell apart after leaving the Island.

But the flashsideways are...an AU version of everyone's first season character, running through familiar beats with some unexpected connections, but no clear reason why it matters? I remember the discussion at the time, and there was relatively little discussion of the content of the flashsideways, just a lot of discussion of what cool explanation will eventually make it all matter in retrospect. People did discuss the bigger picture of the flashforwards, but they did also discuss the character arcs to a larger degree. I guess there's the ~thrill~ of dead characters returning, but uh. Lost already had a half-dozen devices to do that and did that regularly. Lost did unexpected character connections in flashbacks since day one.

Because there's just no momentum to them. Because they don't introduce a character who knows what's going on until two-thirds of the way into the season, and deny us any explanation of what's going on until the penultimate scene of the series. At least in the flashforwards we knew they escaped the Island, even if we didn't know how. Here we have nothing

But when they do reveal what it is, it's...odd for a couple reasons. The surface level are the absurdities, like Sayid's soulmate being Shannon, Aaron entering the afterlife as a baby, and Ji-Yeon entering the afterlife as a fetus surrounded by people she never met.

At a bigger level, though, the afterlife is a place where people are drawn to work through their issues and then move on, with the people they're tied to by destiny.

That's...the Island. That's what the Island is. Did the Island fail to improve anyone but Frank and Mr. Eko? Why do they get drawn to the Island to undergo character development with everyone, then get reset to do it all again after their death?

The answer is so they can have the requisite finale warm and fuzzy ending where they all move on together, all in a church with all the other people they've spent six seasons screaming and pointing guns at.

The writers talked about story arcs and character arcs they cut from season six for lack of time, but half of each episode is devoted to a plot line that only gains emotional resonance in the finale, and that gains no real energy or interest when you do know what's going on, since the way it's set up is designed to invite theories before it's designed to lend emotional weight. Bc why should I care about a character reliving season one's flashbacks, when I uh, saw season one?

Like. Everyone complained about how repetitive Kate's flashbacks were, even in season one. Kate's on the run, she does something that shows she cares, goes back on the run. Kate has by far the thinnest backstory of any of the "major" characters. And what's the first solo flashsideways? A season one style Kate On The Run episode. They ran out of material for the basic flashbacks fairly early, and spent season four doing flashforwards, and spent season five doing flashbacks to everyone's life in the timeskip, and then the final season brings them back, but uh, she meets Claire! So it's different enough now

In the afterlife Jack has a son named David, and his arc is about his afterlife son David, because after the show made Jack interesting again in the last couple seasons by giving him new arcs we really need to go back to the "Jack's daddy issues" well, and then halfway into the finale he's just never mentioned again, and anyway, the writers later said that David was just a psychic projection of Jack's younger self. Which would've been a neat storyline to allude to in any way, instead of having the end of his storyline be everyone just kind of leaving and forgetting him

[definitely-not-a-wasp]

In Defense of Fang's Gang

The first time I read Maximum Ride (ten years old) (6th grade) (fully in my Warrior Cats phase) I hated Fang's Gang. While I wasn't online so I can't say for certain, I believe that this was a popular sentiment— they were, after all, the thing coming between Fang and Max, and serving as evidence that Fang had 'moved on' from the flock.

However, now I am an adult, and am going to make the argument that Fang's Gang is one of the best written groups in the Maximum Ride series, and should be appreciated more. #JusticeforFangsGang2k25

First: They Make a Lasting Change in the Flock

One of my biggest complaints throughout the series is that if the stakes keep rising, but the flock doesn't change longterm— they split up from time to time, but they're always back together by the end of the book. They fight and have breakdowns, but none of it leads to longterm change: Max is the leader, Fang is her dark and quiet love interest, Iggy and Gazzy are immature and love bombs, Nudge is chatty/feminine and wants to be a normal girl, and Angel is always Max's little girl by the end of the book. This makes all of these conflicts seem unimportant in hindsight, and the plot become predictable and repetitive.

Enter: Fang's Gang.

Fang leaves the flock, and gets a new group! And they STAY with that group for multiple books! While none of us liked Fax getting split up (until I, personally, became an adult and a professional hater), this caused a measurable shift in flock dynamics that didn't fully go away until Maximum Ride: Forever (boo). Therefore, I would say that Fang's Gang are the most successful secondary character group in the whole series, and they should get points for that.

Second: They're Not Friends

Okay, weird way to start things out, but let me explain: when we meet the flock, they're pre-established as a unit. That means Max gets to do a lot of tell not show. She says she loves everyone, but habitually treats Iggy and Nudge like shit. She says she's the leader, but she doesn't cook (see previous post). We hear Gazzy and Angel have a special bond as blood siblings, but don't see them interacting in a way that's different from the rest of the flock very often. When it's revealed that Dr. Martinez is Max's mom and Ella is her half-sister, they immediately get slotted into a family dynamic without any awkward transitions.

For Fang's Gang, we meet everyone when they meet each other. Their dynamic is rocky, it's uncertain, so JP has to actually put in work and SHOW us their dynamic. They play "Never Have I Ever" as a bonding activity, Star and Ratchet annoy each other for fun, Fang notes how uncomfortable he initially feels when he talks for an extended period of time as their leader, we get to see Maya slowly break away from her identity as "Max's Clone" as she spends more time with the Gang. Therefore, even though they only exist for 2-3 books at most, they feel more dynamic than the flock. Which isn't great, because they're really not that dynamic. This says something about the level of writing going on.

Three: They all Have Distinct Personalities.

...They hated Jesus because he spoke the truth.

Look, I will be the first to admit that they're cardboard cutouts of characters, but at least they were cardboard cutouts that were distinct from each other! In a world where Iggy and Gazzy are practically the same character, we have two evil German scientists, and all of the corporate scientist villains have the exact same talking points and vocal patterns, having "Tough wise-cracking Guy" "angry blond girl" "angry girl's nice friend" "Awkward and easily excited" "Smarmy clone with identity issues" and "Fang" is an improvement!

Four: Just Let Them into Your Hearts Already

They're fun. They're funky. They got some bad press because they broke up Fax, but tbh I think that also did the series a service.

Anyway they're popular in my heart.

[marzmeltdown]

Halfway Sober

⌦ Pairing: Woozi x Reader ⌦ Genre(s): smut,, fluff ⌦ Warning(s): alcohol use/drunken sex (be safe),, fluff,, swearing,, unprotected sex (im not ur parent but be safe),, begging,, pet names (baby,, ),, Jihoon whimpers 😩,, mention of being sick,, ⌦ Word count: 2.04k ⌦ Summary: Your childhood best friend promised that he would come back for you. That was five years ago. But now he's back, and your family Christmas party took a turn you weren't expecting. ⌦ A/N: Doin Christmas in July. First fanfic request I'm so thankful that someone enjoyed my work enough to request work from me 😭. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it! If there's anything you feel I should improve on in the future, don't hesitate to let me know! You can find progress updates on this story and everything else I write in my pinned post every Wednesday.:)

⌦ requested by: anon 🫶 ⌦ marz's request form ⌦ marz's tag list

Christmas was always your favorite holiday, not just because of the presents but also because of the smells, scenery, and memories that came with it. At least, that's how you used to feel about the holiday. Every year around this time, you'd get a text from your best friend promising that he'd be at the annual Christmas party, and every year you'd get your hopes up.

When Jihoon didn't show up, your heart would shatter into a million pieces. You knew it was no use inviting him to these Christmas parties, knowing his empty promises would leave you feeling optimistic yet doubtful at the same time. You hadn't bothered inviting him this year; you were slowly accepting that the idol life was better than anything he had here. You knew you were being dramatic, but the constant letdown made it hard for you to think any other way.

Christmas time started to feel stale and repetitive to you now that Jihoon wasn't there. You would text him, he would promise to be there, you'd get your hopes up, and then you'd cry while you cleaned up after everyone left for the night. It was like your brain was in this sort of unbreakable pattern; it knew the outcome, but breaking the pattern wasn't an option.

So there you stood, with all of your friends cramped inside your small New York apartment. Your brain was becoming overstimulated with the number of senses to take in all at once.

"Have you heard from Jihoon at all?" Your friend asked as she filled her cup with whiskey-spiked eggnog. You shook your head, taking a sip of the thick, cinnamon and whiskey-flavored milk drink.

"No, I didn't invite him this year," you shrugged as the two of you walked back into the living room where everyone was sat, wearing ugly Christmas sweaters, singing horribly to overplayed music, and your cat swatting one of the baubles that hung a little too low to the ground off the tree.

"Why not?" She asked, stopping in the foyer with wide eyes as if she thought those words would never have left your mouth. You opened your mouth to speak when the sound of someone's fist hitting your front door with just enough force to make their presence known rang through your ears. You furrowed your brow as your eyes moved from your friend's shocked expression to the entrance of your home.

"Who's here?" Your friend asked.

"I don't know; everyone should be here already," you said as you made your way to the front door. You pressed your body against the paint-chipped hardwood as your eye peered through the peephole.

The figure that stood before your front door made your insides feel like they were going to fall from their respective places. Your hand moved from the door to the knob, opening it slowly as if you were trying to convince yourself that he was really standing there.

"Jihoon…" You said softly when the door opened enough to see the man's smiling face. You didn't give him time to register a response or even your actions as you pulled him into a hug, crying into his winter coat.

The rest of the night turned into a red and green blur as you knocked back enough drinks to sedate a baby elephant—figuratively, of course. You and Jihoon had not so gracefully excused yourselves to your bedroom after the two of you were caught making out against your kitchen counter.

You had dreamed of this day, though being under the influence wasn't in the plan. But would the two of you have done this if you were in the right state of mind? Probably not. Something about courage in a bottle.

Your bed had never felt hotter as the two of you sloppily tore off the fabric that worked as a barrier to protect your skin from one another. The two of you kissed with a level of passion you'd only read about in books. Jihoon's hands were surprisingly skillful, even despite his inebriated state. His hands ran up the sides of your calves, the insides of your thighs before stopping at the hem of your bra.

His fingers hinted at lifting the padded fabric to toy with your already hardening buds, but instead, he halted his movements. You opened your eyes in confusion as Jihoon pulled away, your glossed-over eyes meeting his equally glossed-over eyes.

"Is this okay?" He asked, his words slurring together as he spoke. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or how the closeness of your body made him feel like fire was running through his veins.

"Yes, Ji," you replied, impatiently reaching for the back of his head to pull him into another jaw-breaking kiss.

A soft moan left your lips in response to Jihoon's warm hands pushing past the wiring of your bra, gently squeezing at the fat that made up your breasts. Another string of small moans would leave your lips and enter his mouth each time Jihoon rolled your nipples in between his fingers.

A smirk found its way to your lips when the sound of Jihoon whining filled your ears. Jihoon pulled away from the kiss and looked at the hand on his cock as if it were instinctual. The way 'fuck' rolled off his tongue was music to your ears and pussy; it made your mouth water, and you weren't sure how much longer you could put up with foreplay.

"Ji, fuck me, please," you whimpered as his hands trailed back down the path they had taken earlier. This time, however, they stopped at your panties. It was now Jihoon's turn to wear the smirk on his face as his fingers found themselves pushing the fabric of your panties to the side so they could explore the wet cavern that was your entrance.

"We've barely started, y/n," he teased as his middle and ring fingers rubbed themselves up and down the insides of your folds.

"Ji- fuck!" You whined breathlessly, feeling Jihoon's fingers diving into the ocean between your legs. Your back arched ever so lightly in response to his fingers pumping in and out of your hole.

A chuckle left your lover's throat while he left love bites along the taut skin that was your neck and chest. Your hands found themselves buried in the black locks of his hair as his fingers pushed themselves against your walls at a steady pace.

A mewl fell from your throat each time his teeth left pale pink marks against your neck, alongside the purple bruises his mouth was gifting you with each pump of his digits.

"Fuck-Ji, please!" You begged once more as the feeling of your dam breaking threatened to make an appearance. Coincidentally, your partner and your climax were two things that you hadn't seen or felt in a very long time.

The man hummed when he took his fingers out of your cunt, tugging down at your panties as if this were his way of responding to your whines. The time it took for you to have taken your bra and panties off and for Jihoon to remove himself from his boxers was a blur; your brain didn't regain consciousness or, moreover, come back to reality until Jihoon was pumping himself inside of you.

Had you been clear-minded, you would have taken more time to adjust, but tonight you just wanted to get off. The stretch of your walls was painful, yes, but the pleasure heavily outweighed the pain you would be feeling in the morning. The only sounds that bounced off your small bedroom walls were your moans and whines, along with the sloppy sound of Jihoon haphazardly fucking into you.

Your dam began to crack faster than normal as Jihoon pressed the head of his cock against the spongey spot inside of you that made your toes curl and your head twirl. You took notice of how Jihoon's hips began to stutter, signaling that he was close to breaking as well.

Your walls tightened around his cock, causing a small whimper to fall from his mouth, and his hands gripped onto the fat of your thighs even harder.

"Ji, I'm close," you whimpered and pulled at his sweat-soaked locks, eliciting another whimper to come from inside him.

"Fuck, me too, baby," he panted in response, the whimpers you had once forced out of him now falling out like a symphony of the world's finest instruments all harmonizing together.

It took only a few more powerful thrusts on his end before your dam finally broke. You arched your back as the wave of pleasure washed over your body, and your hands found themselves gripping at the pillow cases beneath you.

The way your pussy spasmed against his cock while you were falling over the edge barely gave him enough time to pull out and finish anywhere but inside of you. He whimpered with each spurt of cum that shot itself from his tip and onto the insides of your thighs.

Waking up the next morning felt like the hardest thing you had ever done. Your head felt as though someone was hitting it over the head with a mallet, and your eyes felt like they would melt out of your sockets if you kept them open even a second longer. There was a crusted substance surrounding the inner parts of your thighs, and the sharp pain that shot through your hips solidified the suspicions you had about what that unknown mixture was.

It took the better part of an hour for you to gather the strength to stand without releasing last night's contents onto the bedroom floor. The smell of eggs and bacon definitely didn't help that feeling, nor did the spinning wheel your brain felt was on.

You trudged your way to the kitchen, suppressing any urge you had to throw up. You had assumed one of your friends had stopped by to make sure you were okay after last night's many rounds of drinks. You were partially right; it was a friend of yours, but he didn't stop by to check up on you.

"Ji?" You asked, taking a seat at the breakfast table that was used for anything but eating. He hummed in response as he plated the food. You took notice of the scratches that peaked through the collar of his shirt and blushed at the thought.

"Yea?" He asked, turning towards you as he carried the plates to the table; his hair was still messed up from last night, and he had found a pair of your sunglasses to shield his eyes from the light that gleamed through the windows that you never seemed to close with the curtains that took you an embarrassing amount of time to put up by yourself.

"Did we?" he cut you off as he placed one of the plates in front of you before he sat across from you with his own plate.

"Have sex?" He finished your question for you, and you could only nod in response. "I don't remember much from last night, but the way you looked under me is something I'd like to see again," he said with a small wink. It would have gone unnoticed if you hadn't been studying every muscle in his face.

"You want there to be a next time?" You asked, and you felt like you were interrogating him with these questions, although, if you had to be honest, you also wanted this to happen again.

"Only if you want to," he said as he ate.

"I'd like that…" you said, trailing off as you looked at the food in front of you. The last thing you wanted to do right now was eat a big breakfast of fatty foods, but you knew you needed to eat something before you filled your stomach with Advil to combat the killer migraine you had. "Are you not hungover?"

"I totally am, but one of us needed to make sure we ate," he said in response.

You smiled softly at the man before you; you couldn't tell if he was returning the stare through the sunglasses, but you didn't care either way. You were happy to finally be more than friends with your best friend.