#i mean im not subtle they know exactly what i think abt them

[interstellarbookofflowers]

happy points

it was eid yesterday! although i had some work to do, i did have some free time

i managed to fast the day of arafah (day before eid)! it was hard actually, i yet again misjudged my capabilities, but i somehow managed to finish the fasting day! wont fast again during the summer tho 💀

i watched some precure yayay and listened to the soundtrack! (nature is healing i am being unhinged again)

im hanging out with my friend today! we're going on a silly books hunt again heheh

(dont read the tags if u dont want to see me scream into the void)

[hiddenbeks]

more than a month after my previous kotor update i am happy to announce that i have finally met jolee and had him join me <3

[achillescomehome]

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okay these commenters just... get it. not to say my other commenters don't, but i adore when people pick up on the subtle hints i drop when the gods' perspectives pop up that they're in a human-like form, but it's a mask and will always be a mask. okay, so maybe it's not always subtle, but i don't like actually defining exactly what they are. whatever i can come up won't be fitting or as good as whatever each reader's mind comes up with personally. like, sure, i can strip them of their mortal personas (which... is what it is. personas. facades. masks.) but it's up to my readers to fill in those gaps. is it a fully defined, enraged, otherworldly being? is it nothing but a black blob of teeth and eyes and pure hunger? who knows.

and i love, love, love what bakedbean15 pointed out: what poseidon and co. are doing is morally ambiguous. that's exactly what i was hoping to convey: that poseidon and triton and amphitrite can make all the jokes they want, tease percy until he leaves the room and play as many card games as possible, but they will never fully be understandable. nor will their morals align with humans. they are gods and at the end of the day they will act as such, and if that means all but feasting on gabe's pain for their own benefit and pleasure more than for percy's sake, then so be it.

another layer i love people picking up on is that they're not just gods, they're gods of the sea. they're part of the sea itself, and that's a whole new realm of morally ambiguous. who tells the sea what she can and cannot do? no one. the sea does not answer to the sky or to the earth. in fact, both can be seen answering to her.

anyway, i wanted to giggle and kick my feet about some of my fav comments

______

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[Picture ID: Archive of Our Own comment from frostd0nuts on Chapter 7: “"For kindness was not natural to gods; it was a learned habit." and now we have an additional layer of insight into just how precious percy is to poseidon, as well as amphitrite and triton. once you've endeared yourself to the gods, they will love ferociously...and to protect, deal pain in equal ferocity.”]

[Picture ID: Archive of Our Own comment from Livon_Saffron on Chapter 7: “This was beautiful and I am satisfied so much like being so hungry and suddenly your most delicious juicy filling food appears in front of you. I loved the part of Amphitrite raging. And especially as you stripped the gods of their mortal personas, to show their ugly beautiful chilling true divinity. That mortal were learned, but their true essence never went away, it just slept like a chained monster. Also my fav torture part was her ripping his throat out.”]

[Picture ID: Archive of Our Own comment from annievvv7 on Chapter 7: “Oh, you so brilliantly described the ancient Gods nature. They are so powerful forces of nature that are nearly incomprehensible to us mortals. Gods are the souls of those powerful natural forces/concepts that we cannot explain or understand. Their nature is destructive and I think our ancestors who had lived closer to nature they understood these forces better. They knew they need to appease these powerful beings with sacrefices to not be destroyed by them. I had chills down on my back reading your descriptions of the ancient spirits of the Gods. Thank you for the update. I love Amphitrite so much, she loves Percy as her own I hope we will see her being friends with Sally. As she admires her for her persevearence. Hehe one of my secret concept is a polyamorous relationship developing between Poseidon Amphitrite and Sally.”]

[Picture ID: Archive of Our Own comment from bakedbean15 on Chapter 5: “OKAY I LOVE THIS FIC AND I HAVE A LOT TO SAY ABOUT IT SO BUCKLE UP BECAUSE IM ABT TO WRITE A FRICKIN ESSAY

first of all, love the epic references, and i am absolutely obsessed with ruthlessness rn, and also the bit abt the birkenstock made me wheeze 🫠

there are two main things i love about this fic. firstly, the personification of the sea. its so poetic and beautiful and it really has such a huge impact whenever it's brought up. i love it so so so much. second, the fact that poseidon is very much so behaving like a god. he's nice to percy, sure, but he has absolutely no mercy for gabe. even just killing him isnt enough for poseidon, and i think i think it brings up some big questions. and not to spoil the fun here, because i know we all love to see gabe getting a taste of his own medicine, but is what poseidon is doing truly right? of course, gabe is a monster, but hypothetically, real person smelly gabe, was in fact also a person, with his own traumas and fears and things that made him the way he is. it's no excuse, but I wouldn't say hes inherently evil. (dont misread me here, the stuff he did was WRONG AND MESSED UP) and the bit about keeping the whole torturing gabe thing from percy just proves that this isnt for percy, poseidon, triton, and soon amphitrite, are doing this for themselves. which is morally ambiguous and very on brand for greek gods.

sorry for writing the longest comment ever, im excited for the next chapter 😭😭”]

[antirepurp]

i've been thinking abt the gang's ages as of frontiers and especially sonic and how he kind of feels older in frontiers. i think that's been the general course since like colors or something when we got new VAs and writers but imo it kind of culminates in how he acts in frontiers y'know?

like sure part of it is bc sega removed roger from his limiters but also there's this contrast between how sonic acts now and how he acted especially in the adventure era. like adventure/heroes/shth sonic felt much more sincerely carefree and reckless, like a kid freshly turned 15 who didn't really have a scope of what the world could be like and the magnitude of the kind of stuff he was up against. he had had fantastical adventures in the genesis era sure but i think his approach to them bordered on not taking them as the serious occasions they were bc he was so young at the time, and it was just eggman and his robots. then we moved on to ancient deities and eldritch horrors and the tone is permanently altered.

and there's death now, and it personally affects him. maybe he didn't get to know shadow as deeply as rouge and even eggman, but they had an association forced upon them and they wound up fighting against each other and then together as one. maybe it's subtle but i think it does change sonic at the very end of last story, like some of that carefree attitude died that day. maybe his enthusiasm in heroes and shth is compensating for a part of him that he lost on the ARK.

06 has him experience another loss with elise, even if it could be fixed with time travel, but he had grown to really care about her. im not gonna go into the specifics of their relationship bc i have my own interpretations on it that aren't relevant but like that shit has to hurt, even if just a moment. it hammers in that there ARE stakes and they haven't gone anywhere, and just because one person had a miracle survival it doesn't mean sonic is guaranteed a happy ending. it's not that he loses hope or anything, but i'd imagine there is a voice at the back of his head that remembers it and forces him to keep up an appearance harder than before. and it's exactly what he does for the better half of unleashed. because he's a monster now! and maybe that monster thrives with the weight of the past. dark gaia is all about negative energy, and while it's a necessary part of life it can't be an easy burden to bear on the nightly. would sonic have to fight back those feelings harder than before? i doubt he would feel like he deserves to be that way, when he's supposed to keep his friends safe and save the world, because he's the only one who can.

i can't say i remember enough about satbk to fully take it into count here, but by then i think sonic would've been able to rediscover some of the hope that may have eroded. he would be in a better place post-unleashed, having faced parts of him that he had ignored before, and built himself more into the kind of person he'd like to be; free, maybe a little impulsive, but who ultimately follows their own sense of justice. i don't think he would've ever been considered "lawful good" or anything like that, but maybe he was somewhere close to that when he was younger, subscribing to the idea of a cosmic and righteous good and inherent evil. but that had to change when he learned the world wasn't that simple.

im brushing over colors/gens/lost world/forces here a bit, the first three didn't feel of substance to me and if anything forces was a showcase of keeping up the appearances for the others. but frontiers feels like this culmination of everything so far, and we get to observe sonic in isolation for the first time in a while. most other serious events in the past have had him work together with his friends, but they're only sort of present now, and it makes parts of the curtain drop especially as the game goes on. sonic hides and downplays the corruption because he has to be the carefree and courageous guy he's always been, even if it's been a few years and he's growing up and changing as he does. and he's experienced despair time and time again, and it's hurt, so he forces himself to cling to hope with everything he has now, even when his whole body is overcome by corruption and eating him like a ravenous organic beast. he's grown to care for the people around him much more than he maybe used to, to cherish life as long as it lasts, but it's hard to be the same bright-eyed hero everyone knows you as when you've seen what death looks like. he wants it to go away but it'll always remain, and colors the curtains he puts up so his brother and sister and rival don't have to worry about him.

i keep thinking about the opening lines of sonic adventure and ryan drummond's voice saying goofy 90s flavored lines, and i keep thinking about roger craig smith delivering sonic's lines in frontiers in a tone subtly deeper and different from his previous performances

[the-rookinator-3000]

IM SORRYYYY I LIKE CALLIE! SHES SILLY AND GOOFY AND VERY NICE I CAN ADMIT THAT! I JUST... don't really have a favorite... i always cared way more about salmon run stuff than literally anything else in the game...

and speaking of which oh my god FINALLY someone who also loves salmon run. i'm so enamored with the horror aspect of it. just the whole system of going to war with the honor of accepting a death fought tooth and nail for... a massive swarm of bloodthirsty fish who want nothing more than to see your ink on the walls... and man it is INTENSE. splat3 salmon run is SO MUCH HARDER than splat2. way more mobs and way tougher ranks - the danger percent can go up to 333%. insane. and then of course the lore of the gamemode itself is great too - even beyond splat3's story mode, it's so fascinating to see their culture and the kinds of fish that can develop depending on conditions. and of course the aesthetic of it being much more grungy and dark and industrial than the rest of splatoon is just so very good.

i doubt you have a favorite fish (i mean what kinda crazy guy would! hahah °_ °") but please allow me to tell you how much i LOVE horrorboros. first of all he looks so fucking awesome. very solid design and detail. and he looks like a SNAKE FISH. two of the world's greatest creations in ONE... AND he KILLED it in the first impressions department! like:

HOW AWESOME IS THAT??? i'll tell you just how awesome it is: HELLA!!!!!

secondly, the symbolism of horrorboros' original symbol (uroboros as i'm sure you're aware of) is just SUCH an incredible pick for salmon run. first of all, it's just a very good ancient symbol in general (i'm a sucker for cyclical motifs that embody infinity...) and secondly it is very fitting to the salmonid's culture in general! the strong focus on consumption and a salmon's life cycle in general, with the babies using the nutrients from their parent's corpse (it isn't exactly pretty) to survive, both make uroboros an incredible pick to draw inspiration from for a king salmonid. i love horrorboros so very much. what a great snake fish <3

(if you do happen to have a favorite salmonid... feel free to tell me... :-) i quite enjoy the salmonids if you couldn't tell already)

GOOD. BE SORRY >:[ and HEY YEA i've always been a big fan of salmon run's COMPLETELY different vibe from the rest of splatoon (u could argue it fits with splat 3, but that also is cuz of the whole "chaos" theme ehehaha) (<- just realized u already said this whilr i was reading back whoops)

im gonna put more of my opinions here...

OKAY SO yes!!! i really love the horror parts of salmon run! usually splatoon handles horror in very subtle ways, like the unnerving sounds hidden in splat 1 + 2 and octo expansion's whole sanitization thing, but salmon run went ALL OUT and i love it

i had stopped playing splat 3 around the time horrorboros was introduced, but the posts i saw abt it were HORRIFYING, especially it's scream! splatoon could traumatize an 8 yr old child...

salmon run has always been very interesting, from the design taking the "octos use scrap for their tech" concept to a WHOOLE another level never ceases to amaze me how much effort the splatoon team put into that mode... especially with the symbolism you mentioned earlier! salmon run has a very unnerving feel to it, i recall it's lore also had something to do with splatoon's religion themes?? although it has a good chance to be another reference, it is very interesting...

also, my fav salmonid is the maws and the big shot!! i dont know i jus like them... ive killed a lot of maws but i think they are growing on me....

[blvenote]

the universe has granted me good karma thru this update \O/ and #shithitsthefan  AHHHJHHHHHHSJFJDJJFKFFJKFKFFKFKF:

• prefacing this reblog/review with the fact that i was actually awake when this dropped and i got the email notification that u tagged me akcnkdnf AND I LITERALLY READ THE ENTIRE CHAPTER IN THE EMAIL 😭💀 like i was sucked in 😭😭 so this is me, coming back day two, cracking my knuckles, lets do this

• even the summary for this chapter hurts my soul "nothing short of perfect" yes sure honey 😭 we'll see abt that

• DAISIES MEANING NEW BEGINNINGS U CAN DO IT JEONGHAN I KNOW U CAN (he, in fact, could not, and neither could yn)

• we r just going full on w the flowers in this beginning huh kdnfkdnfnf tapestry of flowers on mama's skirt okay... seokmin better be handing yn a bundle of purple hyacinths !! but to be a little more serious TT im honestly like kind of giddy w yns mama bc i just know she was getting nervous and concerned for her daughter, and im petty enough to be like SECOND MALE LEAD IS MAKING THE FIRST MOVE WHOOPDIE DO (okay i lied, i was not serious)

• "a carefully crafted arrangment" like the literal arrangment that yn and jeonghan agreed to AND the arrangments of flowers jeonghan brought i— also the little actions/details you've added in truly add to the vibe that this was rehearsed!! the subtle nods and glances, the understanding, the careful steadiness of yns demeanor — truly not how a lady feels when she's abt to be engaged

• look, mama xu is just excited to start doing the wedding planning and festivities, me too !!

• UGH what a pretty passage (´Д⊂ヽ like even tho this is rehearsed/pre-planned, they're still both wielding similar heartbreaks, and out of everything, he's still trying to make the best of it and see her AS YK,, HIS FUTURE WIFE

• sorry had to just yell again: AUTUMN LEAVES U MEAN ITS FALL??? /THE/ FALL??? AND NEXT IS WINTER... and knowing exactly what i know... man.. i hate (love) seasons as symbols

• oh :'))) and another cig moment w the swing but btwn the sibs!!!

• wow a man who isn't oblivious? ig we win these xu minghao, but i think it's at least conaiderate that he's still asking her not only after the fact but even during the moment (we will revisit this idea later 🤡)

• thats real unfair if u dont think yn or jeonghan will never love each other 😭😭 like at some point, YN AND MINGHAO IM TALKING TO BOTH OF U, feelings will develop; whether its platonic love or romantic love, the seeds have been sown. like yn and jeonghan both have common ground and mutual respect, they dont outwardly hate each other for coveting another; they have far more in common than everyone else would like to admit

• OH... the last sequence of the scene i might cry a little 😭😭 minghao urging w that ferocity and he's slightly defensive that she can stay if she wanted and he would always take care of her, but he forgets he cannot take care of her forever; and just the quiet, solemn acceptance that settles btwn them... the siblings will finally be separated... someone save me (U HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HAO'S QUIET "so u r to be married?" DOES TO ME 😭😭😭😭 like he's kind of losing his sister rn)

• SETTLING OVER U LIKE A THICK VEIL??? A WEDDING VEIL??? YET ANOTHER RESTRAINT???

• BUT HES A SCOUNDREL???? AYE AVAST YE LEE SEOKMIN U HAVE NO RIGHT, AS THE LADY SAYS

• jeonghan.... 😭😭😭 "as though he has been waiting patiently his entire life" someone resuscitate me 😭 if i only had this section, i might think he actually loved her goddamn it (a girl can dream.....)

• the pearl ring, i think, fits so perfectly w yns dress too, like pearls go so well w the aesthetic of the sea/ocean. and def called it that hannie had the ring made for lady choi to wear but 😭 yk,,, life happens, love is lost 😭

• LOOK, WE MATCH 😭😭😭😭😭 OH.....

• just connecting details but a turquoise dress like the sea, a pearl fit for a treasure at the bottom of the ocean, the anchor that keeps you from drifting,,, but your heart sinks nonetheless

• lady choi kinda sus like why is that smile slow and deliberate... home girl, back away from my second lead

• oh yn girlfriend 😭😭😭 U CAN JUST SKFNDKNFKF jeonghan wants to let go of the past and wants to remain steady in this present endeavor, but ur encouragement is far more give than u should be allowing in this situation skfndkfn like i get it, really, this is a whole different arrangement, BUT YN STAND UP

• I NEEDED YN TO SAY "i let him leave" RATHER THAN SHE JUST SAW HIM LEAVE LIKE I'D LOOOVE TO SEE SEOKS REACTION TO THAT

• frustration spilling over like the tide *furiously adds this to the list*

• the intensity of this next scene is crazy but i had to do a pause to say WHAT DO U MEAN THE GRAVE ERROR THAT YN HAS MADE??? LEE SEOKMIN SLOW TF DOWN

• omg the literal irony my head is in my hands 😭😭😭 THE UTTER IRONY THAT HE CALLS HER DEAR FRIEND WHEN SHE'S LITERALLY TALKING ABT HIM BEING THE MAN SHE'S IN LOVE WITH !!! i do have to say that i had a lot of satisfaction in his reaction when she admitted that she knew hannie was in love w a married woman LOL and i am such a sucker for super intense arguments/back n forths like this one like OOOOO i love the tension and the heat sm

• living for minghaos entrance, holding my breath

• OKOK BUT minghaos protective gaze like a CHAIN around yns neck, and seokmins stare as both apologetic AND RESTRAINING??? a woman's virtue is in restraint 😭😭😭😭😭

• my thoughts exactly WHAT????? HOW DARE HE HOW DARE THEY I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY, BUT FIRST, we need to revisit a prev comment abt how minghao was checking in w yn and allowing her a say in her own future: WHERE DID ALL THAT GO HUH????? like i understand that circumstances r different, but even i felt betrayed, and its like,, BOY aint nobody gonna know, THIS IS THE ARRANGEMENT; SECOND, the way seokmin says "fine, i'll marry her" not even speaking to her directly and w that ATTITUDE?? okay . we didn't want u anyway . like i felt that emotional clap of thunder like yn did i am BUZZING

• oh, so minghao thinks he's doing u a favor... eugh..... the pros and cons i suppose for a protective brother (i praised him for not being oblivious earlier, but im taking it all back!)

• i feel as empty and lost as yn rn ngl like maaaan i knew this was gonna happen but im still like,,, 😭😭 NOOOOOO 😭😭 yns back to crippling depression 💔

loved the chapter as always!! sorry there's a lot more reactions and less analysis/commentary this time around, it just got really intense and my brain is still processing that jeonghan engagement era didnt even last a CHAPTER (´Д⊂ヽ cant wait for chapter five, love u!!!

The Somerset Affair

Chapter 4: The Duke Who Loved Me

pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.0k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, eventual smut, more to be added a/n: ok i know this is long overdue but ENJOYYYYY // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys this could not have happened without you // part 5 is in the works rn!

summary: your engagement to Lord Yoon Jeonghan will be nothing short of perfect. You will make sure of it.

comment to be tagged when chapters are posted, or join the my taglist here!

The morning sun filters through the grand windows of the drawing room, casting warm patches of light onto the plush carpets and fine upholstery. The air is filled with the subtle scent of bergamot from your mother’s tea and the quiet rustle of her lace fan as she sits beside you, pleasantly engaged in conversation. Minghao, reclining with a book in one hand, seems content to observe, his eyes flicking up occasionally, assessing with that quiet, perceptive gaze of his.

A servant enters, announcing with a slight bow, “Lord Yoon, for Miss Xu.”

Jeonghan steps in, exuding a refined elegance, his appearance crisp and perfectly polished. In his hands, he carries two bouquets—an artfully arranged bouquet of roses for your mother and a softer bundle of daisies for you.

“Oh, Lord Yoon!” Your mother’s face lights up with delighted surprise as he presents her with the roses. “Such beautiful flowers! You spoil us, my lord,” she coos, taking them with clear admiration.

Jeonghan turns to you next, extending the daisies with a warm, almost conspiratorial smile. “These, Miss Xu, are for you.” His gaze lingers just a moment longer than it should, his eyes holding a silent promise.

You accept them, feeling your pulse quicken despite your best efforts at composure. “Thank you, my lord. They’re lovely,” you reply, your voice steady yet soft.

The light streams through the drawing room, catching on delicate patterns in the wallpaper, illuminating the intricate tapestry of flowers on your mother’s dress. She sits forward, her face lit with excitement, as if this visit from Jeonghan is a personal victory.

Jeonghan’s bouquet fills the room with a faint scent of wildflowers, light and pleasant, yet somehow starkly out of place in this space where every gesture feels rehearsed. The daisies he offered you lie lightly in your lap, their cheerful brightness a contrast to the steady, almost unfeeling exchange that has just unfolded. His eyes meet yours for a brief, knowing second, and there’s a flicker of mutual understanding beneath the surface, an unspoken acknowledgment of what this marriage truly is—a carefully crafted arrangement, one that neither of you expects to fill with romance.

As Jeonghan addresses Minghao, his voice is calm, almost clinical. “Lord Xu Minghao, I come to you today with the hope of asking for your sister’s hand in marriage.” There is no impassioned plea, no pretense of romantic affection—only a polite tone as he lays out his intentions, as though presenting a proposition in a business deal.

Minghao’s gaze sharpens as he turns to you, his eyebrows raised slightly in silent question. He knows you better than anyone; he knows why Jeonghan’s proposal isn’t shocking, why you don’t hesitate. The room is quiet, and your mother leans forward in her seat, her excitement radiating out in delicate bursts like the sweet scent of her tea, oblivious to the subtleties of the exchange.

Clearing his throat, Minghao shifts in his seat and addresses Jeonghan with his usual calm. “Lord Yoon, I know better than to answer for my sister.”

All eyes turn to you, and the room feels suspended, like the world itself has paused to witness your response. “Yes, my lord,” you say, the words escaping your lips in a careful, measured tone. “I shall.” And there it is—final, as much a confirmation of acceptance as a concession.

Jeonghan’s faint smile returns, polite but distant, as if his mind is already on other matters. He is not the lover you dreamed of, and you are not the woman he once allowed himself to yearn for; you both know this, and perhaps that is why it works so well. The arrangement is neat, efficient, each of you choosing the practical over the sentimental, the future over desire.

Your mother, however, cannot contain her delight. “Oh, this is wonderful! A fine match indeed!” she exclaims, her fan fluttering excitedly in her hand. She glows with pride as if this alliance were a personal triumph, her dreams for you fulfilled without understanding the true weight of the moment.

The silence that follows feels heavy, like an agreement quietly sealed, and as you look down at the daisies in your lap, the cheerful white petals suddenly seem out of place in the drawing room, a reminder of a life that might have been. Jeonghan, still standing beside you, inclines his head just slightly. His glance is fleeting, but there’s something in it—a flicker of empathy, perhaps. Just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by the calm, composed mask that both of you have agreed to wear.

Jeonghan turns to you as he prepares to leave, his gaze softening ever so slightly. For a moment, the polite distance in his eyes fades, replaced by a warmth you hadn’t anticipated. He takes your hand, his fingers cool but steady as he lifts it gently to his lips.

“Until next we meet,” he says, his voice low but warm, carrying a sincerity that feels entirely unfeigned. He brushes his lips softly against your knuckles, the gesture tender enough to feel both comforting and bittersweet. As he looks up, a gentle smile graces his face, one that holds neither expectation nor demand—only a quiet understanding, a rare kindness beneath the formalities.

The touch lingers even after he releases your hand, and in the hush that follows, you’re struck by the thought that perhaps, despite the arrangement you’ve agreed upon, Jeonghan will bring a certain gentleness to the role he has taken on.

As he steps back and bids your family farewell, your mother practically glows, her happiness radiating through the room like sunlight through lace. Jeonghan’s parting glance catches yours, a hint of reassurance in his gaze, as if to say he’ll uphold his part of the pact with grace, that this arrangement—though devoid of romance—will be one rooted in quiet respect.

Minghao finds you beneath the old swing, nestled among the twisting garden vines and the soft crunch of autumn leaves. You hardly hear him approach, lost in thought as you watch smoke curl from the cigarette you’d pilfered from his room yet again. Each puff you take burns slightly in your lungs, though the familiar sting feels oddly soothing tonight.

“Nicked another one, have you?” he teases as he sits down at your feet, stretching his legs out lazily on the grass. Without waiting, he holds his hand out, gesturing for you to pass the cigarette. “If this becomes a habit, I’ll have to report you to Mother. Thievery wasn’t exactly on your lesson plan.”

“Oh, hush,” you mutter, flicking a stray leaf toward him in mock annoyance. But the tension in your body gives you away, your shoulders stiff beneath his watchful gaze.

He watches you closely, his gaze quiet and discerning as he brings the cigarette to his lips. The glow of the ember casts a brief, warm light across his face, highlighting the concern in his expression. Minghao inhales, then exhales a plume of smoke that drifts around the both of you in wisps, curling lazily into the air. The scent mingles with the earthy richness of the garden, settling between you like an unspoken question.

For a moment, there’s only the soft creak of the swing and the distant hum of cicadas, the two of you wrapped in a fragile peace.

“You know,” he says at last, breaking the silence. “It isn’t too late to change your mind. Mother may be overjoyed, but I know you. You would only say yes if…” He trails off, letting the implication hang in the still air.

You scoff, but it’s softer than usual. “What are you implying?”

Minghao studies you, his gaze level and piercing, then asks plainly, “Do you love him?”

You pause, watching the glow of the cigarette dim between your fingers. “I… respect him. And he respects me.”

Minghao’s eyes narrow slightly, as if he’s turning your answer over, searching for the truth beneath it. “But you don’t love him,” he says softly. “Not like you love Seokmin.”

Your breath catches, and you quickly look away, the sting of his words more potent than the cigarette’s burn. The thought of Seokmin’s name hanging in the air between you is almost unbearable. “How long have you known?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“I am your brother, Y/N. I’m not blind, no matter how oblivious some of the company I keep may be.”

The corner of his mouth quirks in a wry smile, but his gaze is tender. You find a slight comfort in it, and for a moment, you feel the urge to tell him everything—to let yourself be held by the simple warmth of his understanding. But you hold back, your jaw set in a familiar, resolute line.

“Does he know?” you ask finally.

“No,” Minghao replies after a moment. “At least, I don’t think so.”

The words settle heavily between you, and the silence stretches, thick and suffocating, broken only by the faint crackle of the cigarette as Minghao takes another slow drag. He hands it back to you, his fingers brushing yours in the exchange, grounding you. The faint tremor in your hands feels all too telling, but you steady yourself, forcing composure.

“You truly want to marry Yoon Jeonghan?” he asks quietly, almost like a plea. “Even though you’ll never love him?”

“Love isn’t in the cards for me,” you reply, each word measured and calm. “Besides, brother, what else would you have me do?”

His brow knits together, and he leans forward, clasping his hands between his knees. “Stay,” he says, voice thick with urgency. “Stay here, with me and Mother.”

You let out a breath, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “Please, brother. You know that would send our dear mama to an early grave. A loveless marriage is better than none at all.” You draw in a deep breath, the smoky tendrils filling your lungs. “What happens when you can no longer provide for me?”

He bristles, his voice fierce. “I’ll always provide for you.”

“I know. That’s not what I meant,” you say, your voice softening as you look at him. His expression shifts, and he nods, understanding passing between you in the quiet.

A heavy silence falls, interrupted only by the soft crackling of the cigarette as you pass it back and forth, each drag punctuating the night air with a faint, bitter tang. The smoke lingers around you, a hazy veil that cloaks the unsaid words, the hidden fears, the ache of dreams surrendered.

Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice a mere whisper, carrying the weight of resignation. “So you are to be married.”

You nod, your fingers grazing the cigarette one last time before you extinguish it in the grass, grinding the last ember beneath your thumb. “So I am,” you say, a finality settling over the words as you both gaze into the dark, each lost in the flickering embers of what could have been.

The church’s thick stone walls seem to press in, trapping every sound, every movement, as though the weight of centuries hangs in the air. The fragrance of lilies and incense mingles into something heady, almost suffocating, filling your lungs with every breath. From the stained-glass windows, slanted bands of sunlight cut through the space, spilling ruby, sapphire, and amber hues across the dark wood of the pews. You keep your gaze fixed ahead, forcing yourself to breathe slowly, to project nothing but composure.

Then the cardinal’s voice cuts through the silence.

“I publish the banns of marriage between Lord Yoon Jeonghan, and Miss Xu Y/N. They are to be married in three weeks. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it. ”

The words land heavy, echoing through the cathedral and settling over you like a thick veil. For a moment, it feels as though the world has been carved in two, time splintering around that proclamation.

Across the aisle, there’s a sharp intake of breath. Seokmin’s entire frame goes rigid, his back snapping straight as if he’s been struck. He turns to look at you, his movement quick and desperate, and his eyes find yours, wide with shock and something far deeper, something close to despair. His mouth opens, but no words come. You feel his gaze drilling into you, intense and searching, as though he’s willing you to look away—to give him anything but the confirmation of what’s just been read aloud.

Your pulse pounds in your ears, and your throat tightens with the urge to cry out, to take it all back. But you force the tremor down, and at that moment, you feel Minghao’s hand slide over yours, his steady, grounding warmth the only thing keeping you from breaking. His grip is strong, his fingers curling over yours in silent reassurance, and you clutch onto him as though he’s a lifeline.

Across the aisle, Jeonghan meets your gaze, a calm confidence emanating from his gaze, like the unwavering stone of the church itself. He offers a small, almost imperceptible nod, a silent affirmation of the pact between you—a pact that is anything but romantic, but unbreakable all the same.

When the service ends, and the congregation rises, their whispers a growing swell of murmurs, Jeonghan strides toward you with that same unruffled grace, his every step measured and unhurried. But before he can reach you, Seokmin is there, his hand outstretched, his face a mask of disbelief.

Jeonghan glances at him, his eyes flicking to you, reading your expression before he steps back, giving the two of you a semblance of privacy.

“Are you marrying Yoon Jeonghan?” Seokmin’s voice is low, tight, his face a mix of anger and pleading. The words come out hoarse, as if he’s forcing them past a stone lodged in his throat.

“Yes, Seokmin,” you reply quietly, your voice controlled but aching. “The cardinal just read the banns.”

He stares, and you see him search your face, looking for any trace of the girl he once knew, perhaps hoping for a flash of hesitation that would betray you. Instead, you lift your chin, steeling yourself against the helplessness etched into his features.

“But he’s a scoundrel!” he insists, his voice thick with desperation.

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, though it feels hollow. “You have much audacity to speak of scoundrels before me, my lord.” You pause, letting the words settle. “Lord Yoon is kind to me, and he has always respected me. His attention has never been out of pity, nor at the behest of another.”

A flicker of pain crosses Seokmin’s face, and he drops his gaze, your words striking a chord that silences him. His fingers flex, grasping at air as though there’s something he wishes he could say, something he wishes he could fix, but the moment has already passed. You turn, letting the silence grow between you, feeling the weight of his unspoken words fall away.

As you make your way to the back of the church, Jeonghan stands waiting, his posture relaxed, as though he has been waiting patiently his entire life. He offers you his arm, the small smile on his lips almost kind, and you accept, feeling his warmth against you as you step together into the sunlight outside.

The murmurs rise from the crowd that’s gathered, their gazes a mixture of awe and curiosity as they watch the newest couple of the season descend the church steps. The sun casts a golden glow over the stone path, illuminating the two of you as you walk together, each step echoing in the stillness. Just as you reach the final stair, Jeonghan glances over at you, his eyes softening as he reaches into his pocket.

Without a word, he holds out a handkerchief, his fingers brushing lightly against yours as he passes it to you.

“You’re crying,” he says softly, his voice gentle, his eyes searching yours with something that might almost be tenderness.

The dampness at the corners of your eyes betrays you. You take the handkerchief, feeling the cool linen against your fingertips as you bring it to your face, dabbing away the tears that have slipped past your defenses. A small, appreciative nod is all you manage, and Jeonghan’s hand remains extended, waiting patiently for you to accept the support he offers in silence.

You take his arm once more, and together you walk toward the waiting carriages, leaving behind the whispers, the stares, and the man you love, your steps a steady beat against the uncertainties that lie ahead.

The air is electric with anticipation, and you can feel the weight of every gaze in the room before you even step into the lavish ballroom. The future Viscountess of Hastings, they will say, the supposedly hopeless spinster who somehow captured the heart of one of Mayfair’s most eligible bachelors. Perhaps that's why your mother is a whirlwind of excitement, her chatter endless as she flits around the room, adjusting the last few details of your appearance while your lady's maid fusses with your hair and gown.

Your dress tonight is a ravishing turquoise, its fabric flowing like water around you, hugging your figure before cascading into a graceful skirt that swirls with every step. The neckline is artfully crafted, a delicate off-the-shoulder design that highlights your collarbones and frames your face, drawing attention to the soft curve of your neck. The fabric shimmers in the candlelight, the color reflecting hues of the deep sea, rich and vibrant, evoking the image of sunlit waves. A hint of silver thread weaves through the gown, catching the light as you move, creating an illusion of movement, as though the ocean itself were swirling around you. Your mother’s excited chatter fills the air, but you find yourself lost in your own thoughts, momentarily detached from the flurry of activity.

You catch a glimpse of the ring Jeonghan slid onto your finger during the carriage ride home, its beauty undeniable as it glistens under the soft glow of the lamps in your room. The polished rose gold band curves gently, embracing a single, lustrous pearl at its center. The pearl shines with a soft luminescence, hints of ivory and blush swirling within, exuding a quiet elegance as if it held whispers of its own secrets. It’s exquisite and understated, a piece that commands attention without being ostentatious. Jeonghan had presented it to you with little flourish, his fingers pushing the ring onto your finger as you stared out the window, deep in thought.

“Jeonghan,” you gasped, the words slipping from your lips as the reality of its beauty settled in. “It’s beautiful.”

His lips quirked at that, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth before something deeper flickered in his eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured, fingers pulling at his too-tight cravat, a hint of discomfort crossing his features. “I had it made some years ago.”

“For—”

“Yes,” he cut you off gently, his tone firm yet soft. “For Lady Choi.”

The weight of those words hung between you, thick and heavy, silencing the room as he gazed out the window, his expression closing off. You chose not to pry, twisting the ring around your finger, feeling the coolness of the pearl against your skin as your thoughts drifted to the man you had left behind in the chapel.

“Oh, darling,” your mother’s voice pierces through the haze of your reverie, snapping you back to the present. “You look beautiful. A true viscountess.”

You hummed in agreement, your eyes drawn to your reflection in the mirror. Your ladies' maids had truly outdone themselves. The intricate braids of your hair were artfully woven together, sparkling gems and pearls interspersed throughout, echoing the beauty of your ring. The delicate tendrils framing your face were styled to perfection, soft curls cascading down your shoulders like a waterfall of silk. In the soft glow of the lamp light, your complexion looked radiant, enhanced by the glow of the pearls nestled in your hair. You twist the pearl again, adjusting it until it feels right, then straighten your back, donning the façade of a viscountess—a true leader of society. 

Jeonghan is a good man, you remind yourself, forcing a smile as you repeat the mantra. He shall be a good friend.

As the carriage rolls to a halt at the FitzWilliam estate, the sounds of the ball waft through the air, laughter and music melding into a sweet symphony that invites you into its depths. You step out, and Jeonghan is already waiting, his demeanor calm and collected as he extends an arm for you to grasp.

The main hall is alive with opulence, chandeliers casting golden light that dances off polished marble floors. The scent of rich perfumes and expensive colognes mingle in the air, thick with the promise of high society and whispered secrets. Impeccably dressed couples twirl across the dance floor, their laughter echoing like a soft refrain, while clusters of guests gather, engaged in hushed conversations punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter.

You take a deep breath, feeling a pang in your chest as you remember the last time you stood in this very room, the night Seokmin broke your heart. The echo of his laughter, the way he moved so effortlessly through the crowd—memories flood back, bittersweet and sharp, threatening to steal your composure.

Sensing your unease, Jeonghan nudges you gently, his presence a steadying force. “Look,” he murmurs, gesturing to his cravat, which matches the deep turquoise of your dress perfectly. “We match.”

That’s enough to elicit a light laugh from you, a sound that feels foreign and welcome at once. Jeonghan’s grin broadens, and the warmth of his gaze brings you a measure of comfort as you allow yourself to relax in his arms.

Your hopes for an uneventful night are dashed almost immediately when Seokmin catches your eye. The moment his gaze lands on you, something flickers across his face—an emotion you can’t quite place, his brows furrowing slightly before he glances down at your arm linked with Jeonghan's. His eyes trail from the vibrant turquoise of your dress, down to your arm in Jeonghan’s, and finally to the gleaming pearl ring on your finger. Then, without warning, he turns away, his shoulders tightening and a slight movement that lodges itself in your throat like a stone, heavy and uncomfortable.

Your mother, oblivious to the tension, all but shoves you and Jeonghan toward the dance floor as the next waltz begins, her voice bright with excitement as she declares, “The next bride and groom of the ton must have their moment to shine!” Jeonghan chuckles at her enthusiasm, a warm, carefree sound that dances in the air, as he gently tugs you into the throng of swirling gowns and polished shoes. The orchestra strikes up a lively quadrille, and you quickly lose yourself in the rhythm, the world narrowing down to the two of you, grinning up at Jeonghan every time you find yourselves partnered again.

In your breathless excitement, you barely notice the whispers of the ton, a familiar backdrop to your existence as they observe your every misstep with keen interest. But Seokmin’s gaze remains like a hot brand against your skin, intense and unyielding, making it hard to breathe. You feel the weight of his eyes like an anchor, and it draws your attention back to him against your will.

“Do not look at him,” Jeonghan murmurs, his voice low and steady as he twirls you beneath his arm, his grip firm yet gentle. His eyes search yours for a moment, grounding you, before he adds, “Look only at me, Y/N.”

You nod, your heart racing, and it's easy to follow his command, to lose yourself in the warmth of his smile and the way his eyes light up with every turn. Jeonghan moves gracefully, the two of you swirling together, his laughter mingling with the music. But just as quickly, his cool facade slips—he trips slightly on your flowing dress, and for a brief moment, his expression falters. His eyes dart toward the edge of the dance floor, tension radiating from his frame. When you follow his line of sight, your heart sinks.

The ever-enigmatic Lady Choi has graced the ball with her presence, and her gaze is locked on your fiancé, unwavering and knowing. When she catches Jeonghan staring, a slow, deliberate smile spreads across her lips, and she subtly nods her head toward the door. Jeonghan falters again, his brow creasing with worry as he shifts his weight, uncertain.

“You should go,” you urge gently, your voice barely above a whisper, and you lean in closer to him, the warmth of his body reassuring yet electric. He looks down at you, surprise etched across his features, his grip on your hand tightening involuntarily.

“No, I… I shouldn’t—I shan’t—” he stutters, attempting to regain his composure as he starts the next sequence of steps with an uncharacteristic bravado, but the confidence doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Jeonghan,” you murmur, your grip on his hand tightening as you lean in closer, your heart aching for him. “Go.”

“In the middle of a dance? What will the ton say about the viscount who leaves his new fiancée? What will become of you?” His concern is genuine, but it only adds to the pressure building within you, and you can see his throat bob as he swallows hard.

“It is nothing I have not handled before, my lord,” you tease lightly, a playful smile curving your lips as you step back and curtsy with a playful flourish. Jeonghan bows in return, though you can see the conflict in his eyes, and in that moment, you watch him leave you alone on the dance floor, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words.

Your mother gasps from the edge of the dance floor, her shock palpable, and you can feel the heat rise to your cheeks at the attention. Minghao quickly attempts to soothe her, sharing a knowing glance with you that promises support as you excuse yourself for a refreshment.

Seokmin finds you at the drink table, his expression taut and focused, as though he’s been waiting for you. “He left you,” he states, his voice low but firm, eyebrows drawing together in disapproval.

“Good evening to you as well, Lord Lee. Quite hot, isn’t it?” You reply, your tone light as you feign nonchalance, but your heart races beneath his scrutinizing gaze.

“Y/N, he left you. His fiancée,” he presses, the weight of his words heavy in the air, and he leans closer, the intensity of his focus making it hard to hold his gaze.

“Yes, Seokmin, I do have fully functioning sight. I saw him leave.” You can’t help the bite in your tone as you straighten, the defiance rising within you.

“And what was so important that he had to abandon you in your first night out as a couple?” His voice sharpens, laced with an urgency that makes your heart clench.

“I do not need you to defend my honor, my lord. Nor do I need to explain my fiancé to you.” Your eyes flash, and you can feel the heat of your anger boiling beneath the surface.

With a huff, he turns away, frustration evident in the tight set of his jaw, leaving you alone at the table. You sip your lemonade, trying to ignore the murmurs that swirl around you, the familiar buzz of speculation and gossip that seems to cling to your skin like a second layer. Just then, Minghao finds you, his expression serious yet concerned.

“Walk with me,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument, and you can see the protective glint in his eye.

As you begin to move through the crowd, he squeezes your hand reassuringly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Are you alright?” he asks, concern lacing his voice as he studies your face.

“Quite, brother,” you assure him, though your heart feels heavy.

“Seokmin is quite upset. I would have been as well, had I not known what is happening between you and Lord Yoon.” His gaze softens slightly, but it’s clear he’s trying to gauge your emotions.

“Thank you for your understanding,” you reply, your heart swelling with gratitude.

“Was she here? The woman he loves?” Minghao’s question is gentle but probing, his concern evident as he meets your eyes.

“Yes,” you whisper softly, the admission tasting bitter on your tongue, and you can feel a weight settling in your chest.

“I see.” He nods slowly, processing the gravity of your words. “Are you truly alright with this?” His voice is steady, but there’s a hint of uncertainty beneath it.

“Yes,” you affirm, though your voice shakes slightly, a part of you longing for reassurance.

“Then I shan’t bother you about it any longer. I must tend to Mother—if you need me, we shall be at the edges of the dance floor.”

“Brother?” You call after him as he turns away, the crowd shifting around you. “Thank you.”

His only response is a gentle smile before the crowd swallows him whole. The ballroom thrums with the sound of laughter and music, a whirl of colors and movements that feel distant and dreamlike. Your heart is heavy, and each beat echoes louder than the chatter around you. As you stand alone, the weight of unspoken words presses down on your shoulders like a cloak, and your thoughts swirl like the skirts of the dancers gliding across the floor.

Suddenly, Seokmin strides toward you, his figure slicing through the crowd with a sense of urgency. The moment his eyes lock onto yours, a spark ignites—a mix of anger and something deeper. You can see the tension in his jaw, the way his brow furrows as he approaches, and you brace yourself for confrontation.

“Come with me,” he demands, his voice low but unmistakably firm, carrying an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the heat radiating from him, a force you can’t ignore.

“Seokmin, please, I truly cannot fight with you any longer on this subject—” you start, your voice trembling slightly, but he interrupts, his frustration spilling over like a tide.

“I said come with me!” He grabs your wrist, his grip tight and insistent, forcing you to follow him through the thrumming crowd. The sound of your footsteps reverberates off the marble floors, each echo punctuating the space between you and the safety of the ballroom. The laughter and music fade, replaced by the heavy thrum of your heart and the frantic rustle of your gown.

“Seokmin, you’re hurting me!” you protest, panic creeping into your voice. You feel the pressure of his fingers, warmth mingling with the discomfort. As he glances back at you, anger flickers in his eyes before it softens, just for a moment, revealing a vulnerability that pulls at your heart.

He loosens his grip, but the air between you crackles with tension, a silent battle of wills that feels palpable. “Where are we going?” you ask, concern bleeding into your tone. “My mama will worry, and Minghao, and Jeonghan—”

“Damn Jeonghan!” he snaps, his voice rising, shattering the fragile silence around you. The heat of his words lingers in the air, mixing with the coolness of the corridor.

“Seokmin!” Your cheeks flush with indignation, a mixture of anger and hurt blooming in your chest.

“I told you,” he hisses, urgency fueling his movements as he pulls you further into the shadows of the hallway. The flickering candlelight casts ghostly shadows that dance along the walls, an eerie backdrop to your escalating emotions. “I told you he’s a scoundrel. And you wouldn’t listen—”

“Enough! I will not have you sully his good name. What in God’s name are you trying to accomplish?” you fire back, desperation tinging your words. The air feels thick, heavy with unresolved feelings that twist like vines around your heart.

“Will you listen?” He halts abruptly, spinning to face you, his expression a tempest of frustration. The tension radiates between you, and you can see the muscles in his jaw clench as he gestures toward a small window that overlooks the private gardens. “This is the man you wish to marry?”

He pushes the window open, and moonlight spills into the dim room, illuminating his features with a ghostly glow. Outside, you see Jeonghan, silhouetted against the soft glow of the moon, entangled in a passionate embrace with Lady Choi. A sickening twist of emotion churns in your stomach, a cocktail of heartbreak and unexpected relief; at least one of you gets a taste of the one they love.

“He is a SCOUNDREL,” Seokmin roars, his voice rising with indignation, the words dripping with disdain as he steps closer, his presence a whirlwind of intensity. “I shall duel him for your honor. I must tell Minghao of the grave error you have made—”

“Seokmin—” you start, your voice rising with urgency, but he interrupts again, the fervor in his tone igniting a fire within you.

“We must duel tonight, before the sun rises—”

“SEOKMIN! I knew.” The words escape you, a rush of truth that bursts forth like a dam breaking, raw and unfiltered.

“You—you knew?” His eyes widen, disbelief crashing over him like a wave, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The silence that follows is suffocating, filled only with the quickened rhythm of your breaths and the pounding of your heart. The weight of your confession hangs heavy in the air, thick as smoke.

“Yes.”

His expression contorts, shifting from shock to outrage, and you can feel the air crackling with tension. “You knew he was sinning with a married lady, no less, and you still agreed to marry him? My God, Y/N, I knew you wished to marry, but I didn’t know you would abandon all sense for that!” His hands are balled into fists at his sides, frustration radiating from him like heat from a flame.

Your chest constricts, the familiar ache of longing and sorrow spiraling within you. “Oh, you dolt, it was an arrangement! I knew he loved another, just as he knew I loved another!” You can feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, the weight of your heartache spilling over into your voice, echoing off the cold walls.

A heavy silence envelops you both, every breath echoing with unspoken truths. The air feels charged, electric, as the reality of your situation sinks in.

“You love…someone?” he asks, the vulnerability in his voice slicing through the tension like a knife.

“I must go, my mama—” You attempt to break free, but he grasps your wrist again, his fingers warm yet insistent, the touch igniting a spark of something more profound within you. You can't meet his gaze, the shame of your feelings swirling with fear and longing.

“Y/N.” His voice is a soft plea, low and raw, wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. The way he says your name sends a shiver through you, and for a moment, you feel as though you are on the brink of something monumental.

“Please, Seokmin.” Your voice trembles, a mixture of desperation and desire, the air thick with unspoken confessions.

“Who? I shall make him pay for everything he has done to you, my dear friend—how dare he—”

“Oh for God’s sake, it’s you!” The words tumble out before you can stop them, the truth bursting forth like a firework exploding in the night sky.

You attempt to retreat, to escape the intensity of the moment, but his grip is unyielding, a tether binding you to him. With a swift motion, he yanks you back, and before you can even process what’s happening, his lips crash onto yours, fierce and unrelenting. You can taste the warmth of his breath, the desperation in his touch, and it wraps around you like a cocoon. For that brief, intoxicating moment, everything else fades away—the hurt, the confusion, the chaotic world outside—leaving only the two of you.

You melt into him, the kiss a torrent of everything unspoken: the longing, the frustration, the fear of what lies ahead. It’s passionate and fierce, as if the very fabric of your souls is interwoven in that moment, a confession without words. His hands cup your face, grounding you as the world blurs around you, leaving just the warmth of his body and the desperate connection that binds you both.

He groans, muttering a curse under his breath, and it ignites something deep in the pit of your stomach. You know this is a terrible position – if anyone were to see you, your reputation, your future, your engagement would be ruined – but when his lips find your pulse point in your throat, all you can do is arch your back with a low keen. 

His teeth graze your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You clutch at his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket, desperate for purchase in this whirlwind of sensation. The rational part of your mind screams at you to stop, to push him away, but your body betrays you, leaning into his touch with a hunger you've never known before.

"Seokmin," you gasp, his name a prayer on your lips. He responds with a low growl, pressing you against the wall, his body flush against yours. The heat between you is palpable, electric, threatening to consume you both.

His hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You're dizzy with desire, drunk on his touch, on the intoxicating scent of his cologne mingling with the musk of his skin. You know you should stop this, end it before it ruins you.

But you can't bring yourself to end it. Not when his touch feels like salvation, like coming home after years of wandering lost.

"We shouldn't," you manage to whisper between kisses, your words contradicting the wayyour fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.

Seokmin pauses, his breath hot against your neck. "Do you want me to stop?" he asks, his voice husky and strained. 

Before you can even fathom an answer, the sound of footsteps down the corridor sends your mind into a panic. You shove him off, urgently trying to right your dress. 

Seokmin stumbles back, his eyes wild and still clouded with the raw emotion of your kiss. His gaze locks onto yours, both of you caught between passion and the creeping dread of what you’ve just done. The footsteps draw nearer, each one a reminder of how close you are to ruin.

The door swings open, and Minghao strides in, his eyes narrowing the instant he takes in the sight of you both—flushed cheeks, disheveled attire, the undeniable aura of something forbidden and unspoken hanging heavy in the air.

“What is the meaning of this?” Minghao’s voice is a blade, slicing through the room with cold fury.

Seokmin straightens, trying to regain his composure, but the guilt is written all over his face. You feel your heart slam against your ribcage, panic curling like smoke in your chest. But Minghao’s gaze stays sharp, unforgiving as he looks between the two of you.

“Seokmin,” he starts, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ve dishonored my sister—this is unforgivable. You must either make amends or answer me on the dueling ground at dawn.”

You cast a desperate look toward Seokmin, but his face is tense, unreadable, his own turmoil barely held at bay. He takes a deep breath, then steps forward, addressing Minghao with a steady resolve you didn’t know he possessed.

“Minghao,” Seokmin says, his voice low, respectful. “Please understand. I would never wish harm or shame upon your sister. I care for her deeply—more than I can put into words.”

The air in the room thickens, dense and electric, as if even the walls are holding their breath, waiting for the decision that will shape your fate. Minghao’s stance is rigid, his eyes flashing with anger and something else—concern, maybe fear. It sends a cold wave through you, underscoring the gravity of what he’s demanding. The faint scent of candle wax mingles with the night air creeping through the open window, casting a ghostly glow across the floor.

Your heart races, each beat echoing like a drum in the silence. Your skin still hums with the memory of Seokmin’s touch, the heat of his kiss lingering on your lips like a forbidden brand. You swallow hard, the taste of that moment bittersweet, and glance toward Seokmin. His face is caught between shock and something else—determination, maybe defiance. He’s breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, and his gaze flits between you and Minghao as if assessing the weight of his next words.

“Then prove it,” Minghao says, voice low and slicing through the haze that surrounds you, “or I’ll demand satisfaction for my sister’s honor.”

The word honor hangs heavy in the air, and a slow burn of anger coils in your chest. Your fingers curl into your palms, nails pressing into the skin, grounding you against the urge to scream. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You never wanted to be caught like this, not in a moment of vulnerability twisted by the presence of an audience. Minghao’s protective stare feels like a chain around your neck, while Seokmin’s gaze—a mixture of apology and restraint—only intensifies the confusion swirling inside you.

“Brother,” you say, forcing your voice steady, though your heart feels as if it’s beating in your throat, “this is unnecessary. I am engaged to another. You know this. To demand a marriage over one moment is—”

Minghao cuts you off, shaking his head. “We both know that arrangement is nothing more than an exchange of power, not a bond of love. But this?” His eyes narrow as he looks at Seokmin, his expression hardening. “This is no mere arrangement. I won’t allow this… this recklessness to tarnish your future. Not if I can prevent it.”

His words twist around your heart, anger simmering as he speaks as though you’re not even here, as if you’re some fragile creature incapable of understanding the consequences of your own actions. You tighten your hands into fists, the fire in your chest blazing hotter, burning through your lingering shame and leaving only fury in its wake.

“Brother, this is my choice,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended. You refuse to let him dictate your fate, no matter how well-intentioned he may be. “I won’t be forced into anything, not by you, and not by—”

“Fine,” Seokmin interrupts, his voice low, but the intensity behind it makes your breath hitch. His gaze shifts to Minghao, defiant yet respectful, a calm resolve settling over him that you’ve never seen before. “I’ll marry her.”

The words strike like a thunderclap, sudden and irrevocable, and the room feels smaller, suffocating in the aftermath. You gape at him, heart pounding, pulse roaring in your ears as the weight of what he’s said crashes over you.

“You’ll… what?” Your voice is little more than a whisper, confusion and anger tangling together, leaving you breathless. It’s as if the ground beneath you has tilted, your life, your future, shifting without your consent, controlled by the decisions of two men who seem to think they know what’s best for you.

Seokmin meets your gaze, and for a moment, the vulnerability in his eyes betrays the mask of resolve he wears. But then his expression steels, his jaw set as if he’s made peace with something.

“Fine,” he repeats, his tone unwavering. “I’ll do what’s necessary.”

The finality of his words ignites a fury in you, fierce and hot. How dare they decide your fate like this, without so much as a thought for your own desires, your own choices? Your fists clench, knuckles white as you stare between them, your breaths coming short, uneven.

Minghao nods approvingly, his gaze flicking back to you, as if expecting gratitude, as if this was what you wanted all along. But you feel trapped, as though walls are closing in, boxing you into a life decided for you, a future crafted by others’ expectations.

“Is that it, then?” you ask, the bitterness in your voice surprising even you. “You two decide, and that’s that? No thought for what I might want?”

Seokmin’s gaze wavers, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. But he doesn’t answer, and neither does Minghao. The silence stretches, heavy and charged, and you realize with a sharp pang that neither of them truly understands—that perhaps they never will.

The weight of their silence drives you to turn on your heel, striding down the corridor in a rush to escape. You don’t care about decorum anymore. All you want is space, a moment to process the shock, the hurt, the sheer indignity of having your future decided without so much as a word from you.

But the sound of hurried footsteps behind you keeps pace. You don’t need to look back to know who’s following.

“Wait!” Seokmin’s voice is laced with desperation, and you feel the words tug at you despite yourself. “Please, Y/N—just… please, stay. Let’s talk this out.”

You quicken your steps, but his voice drags you back, its gentle earnestness slicing through your anger like a double-edged blade. You stop, shoulders tensing as you draw in a shaky breath, trying to steel yourself against him. But when you turn around, his expression—pleading, open, raw—almost undoes you.

“Talk about what, Seokmin?” you say, voice barely concealing the tremble. “There’s nothing left to discuss. Decisions have already been made, haven’t they?”

“Not like this,” he says, his voice soft, an ache threading through his words. His hand reaches out toward you, hesitating in the space between you both. “Not without you. I’m sorry. I should have… I should have thought—”

“No,” Minghao interrupts, stepping up beside Seokmin, his jaw set and his gaze unyielding. His hand wraps firmly around your elbow, his voice edged with protective steel. “It’s done for tonight. She’s had enough. We’re going home.”

Minghao’s grip is gentle yet firm, and before you can protest, he begins to lead you down the dimly lit corridor, each step echoing louder than the last. You glance back, catching the hurt etched into Seokmin’s face, his hand outstretched as though still reaching for you. But he doesn’t follow; he stays rooted in place, watching you disappear.

The carriage ride back is filled with silence so thick you could cut it. Minghao says nothing, and you’re grateful. You can barely keep your thoughts in line, let alone handle a conversation. You close your eyes, leaning back, but the image of Seokmin’s pleading face and the desperate, furious embrace you shared lingers like an imprint on your skin.

When you arrive home, you stumble up the stairs, trying to erase the chaos of the evening, but it follows you like a ghost. You catch your reflection in the hallway mirror, and the sight stops you cold. Your hair is in complete disarray, a few strands falling loose from your intricately pinned style, and your face is flushed, cheeks streaked with faint traces of dried tears. Your chest rises and falls, still heaving from the intensity of everything that has happened.

You barely recognize yourself. The wildness in your eyes, the raw emotion painted on your face—it’s as if the person staring back at you is a stranger, a part of you that you’d never thought you’d see.

Hours pass, but sleep evades you, each tick of the clock an insistent reminder of the turmoil simmering inside. Every time you close your eyes, you’re back in that dim room, tasting the fire of his kiss, feeling the weight of Minghao’s words, and wondering if you’ll ever be free from the choices that were made for you tonight.

Tagging: @kibs-and-bits @moondustmemories @shinwonderful @ivehypnosis @gwend0lyne @thestoryofana13 @mellowamour @blissedjoon @begentlewithme-please @xabsolutelynothingx @reiofsuns2001 @mngyulvrs @mooniewrld

@archivistworld @lexyraeworld @ateez-atiny380 @walkinganxiety01 @lovecleastrange

@uriguyeok @nenojaems @carefully325 @meowmeowminnie @ts19009 @flickhurstyles

@spookyeomgoose @princelingperfect @tinkerbell460 @xueisaaa17

@deekaykaykay @ottersmind @sungbeam @blvenote @kyeomsworld

[fairytaleliving]

vtuber band but make it the first years

me : so I have this idea with the first years in a band

@hiraya-manwari : okay but with if they had avatars

me:.....

me: opens up drafts with a sigh

This is all her fault and now everyone can reap the results of what we came up with together

I might actually make this into actual fic but if anyone wants to make their own than go wild

Basically my original idea was just the first years, including yuu, just randomly started a band together. Then the idea of them hiding their identity was pitched and now here is just the jumble of headcanons we came up with

okay so since we found out they can sing from VDC, im gonna be assuming that the rest of the first years (ie Jack and Sebek) can sing but then i started thinking of them as an actual band

sebek probably joined to impress malleus or something but ended up having fun and just stayed

considering the upbringing Sebek has, he probably has some proficiency with piano

ace and epel probably know how to play the guitar (ace had a guitar phase prove me wrong)

deuce has bassist vibes and jack on drums bc mmmmm jack on drums

we said yuu was the miku equivalent bc project sekai but lets not talk abt that

we liked to think that their singing voices would be different from their usual voices (epel doing deep vocals/screaming, sebek doing the softer vocals, jack having a raspy voice, etc etc)

then they go a step further to having a hidden identity with virtual avatars

like they can’t exactly say theyre 16 year olds from NRC for various reasons

so they went to, yes you guessed it, idia shroud

listen idia has been consuming this media for years so he knows what hes doing

so hes basically the manager at this point and does all technical stuff to it bc lets be honest who else is best to do this

this man is living his idol manager dreams and ortho is cheering him on

hes the one who creates the fanchant which both amazes and horrifies the firsy years

hes probably the one who gets the avatars at this point and gets everyones opinions on what they want but only to an extent bc no epel you wont be getting a buff avatar no matter how much you plead

Epel:nobody is going to know!!! Let me have this

Everyone else: Epel we’ve gone over this before. No.

adeuce has a matching aesthetic kind of thing bc idia knows that dynamic

jack and sebek have that well built but stoic looking disposition

yuu and epel are on the more subtle side of things

the lore is just retelling of all the things they went through at NRC

heartsabyul arc = war criminal ace and deuce with soldiers sebek and jack on the hunt but end up joining them

yuu and epel are just normal ppl who got caught in the crossfire

listen the first years were just joking around when they said they would do this but then yuu actually got idia to do this kind of thing and oh god what do you mean our video has a million views y u u

Ace:I can’t believe we actually did something like that

Deuce: Well, it’s not like it’ll be something that popular

Yuu, kicking the door down: OUR VIDEO GOT A MILLION VIEWS

Everyone else: haha....w h a t

Now if we talk abt reactions from the other students

Lilia and Rook know from the start lets be honest

these guys are hidden everywhere but theyre also agents of chaos so they don’t reveal anything

Cater and Vil are the first one to notice bc of course the social media savvy ones are the first ones to find out

vil is conflicted bc on one hand this is going against everything he has taught epel

but at the same time nobody is actually seeing and knowing its epel so his image isnt tarnished????

riddle be going through it bc he wants to keep up with trends how do u do fellow kids

so when he hears ace and deuce sing he just narrows his eyes and goes “wait a minute...”

azul wants to capitalize this opportunity but no u funky octopus the whole concept is to keep the identity a secret

he actually likes the music and died inside once he found out 

listen if anyone sees the lore video and ppl at nrc find it eerily familiar to events and overblots that happened that shit is going to be suspicious and ppl will figure it out

crowley going through the seven stages of grief bc the r i s k

anyways look out for the fic coming out and go follow @hiraya-manwari bc i love her

[whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst]

Texts from the Lost Tomb part 6.1

🎶 Back on the bullshit I never got off🎶

Is this another unnecessary story arc?? With three sections??

Yes.

Wushanju Crew Chat

Wang Meng: You know, I’m someone who appreciates consistency in my day. My life is pleasant, very few issues indeed if you ignore the big ones. And yet. Yet here we are. With unresolved messes at the end of a day.

Wang Pangzi: SOMETHIN YOU NEED TO SAY MARY POPPINS

Wang Meng: We need to talk about Huo Daofu and the glittery bead curtain.

Wang Pangzi: MY FAVE TEEN WIZARD SERIES

Wu Xie: did you turn on that suggested word thingy lol

What glittery bead curtain

Wang Meng: I closed the shop at 6:00pm this evening on the dot. I locked all of the doors in and out of the shop very carefully, especially in light of recent events. The hall leading to the back office was empty. I filed the day’s paperwork, updated and sent emails, and then spent an extra hour organizing receipts and dusting. When I came back out, there were glittery iridescent bead curtains over the front entrance to the shop.

What could this mean?

Wu Xie: uh that you need to spend less time at work?

Wang Pangzi: LOOKS LIKE WE GOT ONE FOR THE DETECTIVES. THE MYSTERY OF THE BEDAZZLED THRESHOLD COMMENCES

Wu Xie: I think we can be relatively secure in thinking a glittery bead curtain isn’t a hostile threat

Wang Pangzi: SAYS YOU

I REMEMBER YE OLDE EXPLORATION TIMES HOW FAST THINGS GOT FURIOUS

BEANBAG CHAIRS SET AFLAME AND LEFT ON DOORSTEPS AS A WARNING

GLITTERBOMBS FOR DAYS

PANIC AT THE DISCO

Wang Meng: Ugh, forget it. I should have just taken them down, regardless of who they belong to.

Zhang Qiling: They are not mine.

Wang Pangzi: A BOLD STATEMENT COMING FROM OUR PRIME SUSPECT

SOMEONE QUICK GO DRAW CHALK AROUND THE DOORWAY TO MARK THE SCENE OF THE CRIME

Wang Meng: Do we know anyone who *would* sneak in and put those up? For whatever reason, legal or not? Even as a joke?

Wang Pangzi: ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ASKING WHETHER WE KNOW ANYONE WHO IS CHAOTIC, AN OUTLAW, A PRANKSTER AND/OR SNEAKS INTO PLACES

BECAUSE THAT WOULD MEAN OUR SUSPECT LIST IS LITERALLY EVERYONE WE KNOW EXCEPT FOR YOU.

Wu Xie: okay let’s think about this; for starters, I didn’t break into my own shop

Wang Meng: You would be in danger of doing some work in the process, that’s true.

Wang Pangzi: LOL

Wu Xie: ANYWAY let’s keep going. For example, Xiao Ge would only break in somewhere for a good reason. Xiao Ge, did you do this?

Zhang Qiling: No.

Wu Xie: okay who’s next

Wang Pangzi: YOU REALLY MISSED YOUR CALLING IN INTERROGATION TIANZHEN

REALLY PUT THE SCREWS TO HIM

IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE;)

Zhang Qiling: How can we be certain *you* didn’t do it?

Wang Meng: Admittedly that was my guess, too.

Wang Pangzi: WOW I SEE HOW IT IS

BLAME PANGZI AS USUAL

ANYWAY HOW DOES HUO DAOFU FIT INTO THIS

Wu Xie: Oh yeah him! Oops I got distracted

Wang Pangzi: UR ENTIRE HISTORY IN A NUTSHELL

Wu Xie: Ugh fuck off

Wang Meng what abt Huo Daofu??

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wu Xie: oh sorry xiaoge I didn’t realize you wouldn’t have spent much time around him last year

He and I go way back

Zhang Qiling: Way back where?

Babysitters Club Chat

Wang Pangzi: I CANNOT BELIEVE HE IS BUYING YOUR INNOCENT ACT

IF YOU EVER TURN TO EVIL WE ARE FUCKED

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wang Pangzi: YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO HUO DAOFU IS

YOU WERE EXTREMELY POLITE AND BORDERLINE FRIENDLY TOWARDS HIM

Zhang Qiling: I wanted him to feel welcome. I wanted to be sure he understands he has a place here. A specific place.

Wang Pangzi: FOR A SILENT GUY YOU ARE A MASTER AT SUBTLE POWER PLAYS IM ALL TINGLY

LMAO THE IDEA OF WU XIE LEAVING YOU FOR HUO DAOFU IS HILARIOUS AND ALSO NOPE

Zhang Qiling: Rationally, I understand that.

Main Chat

Wang Meng: Huo Daofu is coming for the weekend—didn’t Wu Xie tell you? Wu Xie asked me to check in a week ahead so we could start getting ready for his arrival

Wu Xie: oh yeah I did do that

Wang Meng: Fortunately I know you and so I already went ahead and took care of everything.

Re: the trip

He made a deal with Wu Xie’s doctor that he would do periodic checkups on him here at Wushanju

Bc Wu Xie hates being in the hospital

And frankly the hospital hates him too

Wang Pangzi: FAMILIARITY BREEDS CONTEMPT LOL

I FORGOT HUO DAOFU WAS DOING THAT

A VERY CHIVALROUS GESTURE

WOULDNT YOU SAY

XIOAGE

Zhang Qiling: Is it safe for him to be here with a criminal loose on the premises?

Wu Xie: Right, back to the curtain! Let’s focus on the curtain, hmm?

Wang Pangzi: I AM SO LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS WEEKEND.

ALSO WE CAN RULE OUT XIAO BAI FOR THE CURTAIN SHE JUST SENT A SELFIE FROM NORWAY COVERED IN GREEN SLIME WITH ZERO CONTEXT, UR PROTEGE INDEED

Wu Xie: okay but who else would do something so oddly charming yet illegal and—wait.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: hey, Glasses hasn’t been in touch lately right?

Li Cu: uh nope

Unless u count the outdated memes

Why, is money or Xie Yuchen missing

Or is this curtain related, I saw Wang Meng’s tweet

Wu Xie: haha no nothing to worry about really

(I mean maybe? but who knows)

Wang Meng is probably just getting a little paranoid in his old age

Li Cu: better than getting reckless and stupid as hell in ur old age

Wu Xie: …hey:(

Unknown Number: Li Cu, we discussed this.

Wu Xie: ????????

Li Cu: *sigh* fine, reckless and stupid as heck

Unknown Number: …close enough.

Wu Xie: EXCUSE who is that

Madame, Sir, Non-Binary Tree Spirit, etc—whomst the fuck

Are you

Li Cu is underage FYI

So Im staying on this chat

Li Cu: okay first of all, it’s not like that

Second of all I’m literally not underage I s2g

u threw the embarrassing surprise bday party, okay so u should remember

And C, that’s my counselor and I invited her. She wanted to meet u and I knew u wouldn’t agree to a visit so I added her to our chat

we have been discussing u

Wu Xie: Oh wow!!!!!!!

What a surprise:)

hi so nice to meet you:)

Main Chat:

Wu Xie: RED FUCKING ALERT

FUCK THE CURTAIN FUCK THE VISIT

IVE BEEN TRICKED INTO FAMILY THERAPY BY A SMUG TEENAGER WHO TEXTS UNKNOWN NUMBERS

Wang Meng: I assume that means something to someone here?

Not my problem? Good.

Wang Pangzi: AHAHAHA GOD I LOVE LI CU

HES LIKE ADORABLE KARMA FOR ALL THE SHIT YOUVE PUT ME THROUGH

IM RAISING HIS ALLOWANCE

Wu Xie: wait i give him an allowance

has he been collecting on two allowances??

Zhang Qiling: Three. I knew about both of yours.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: so uh may I ask your name?

Unknown Number: you can call me Ms. Lee.

Now, if you’re comfortable talking in this format, why don’t you tell me how things have been going?

Wu Xie: oh everything is normal and fine and safe as usual, why do you ask:)

Li Cu: I heard about ur necklace thing. nice of you to NOT mention it.

another dangerous adventure. again. prick.

Ur lucky your cool boyfriend cares about you so much or you’d have already died like ten years ago

Wu Xie: lol try twenty years ago

Li Cu: That isn’t funny.

Unknown Number: …What?

Wu Xie: shit ur right, okay that was a bit glib, my apologies.

…I use humor as a coping mechanism?

Unknown Number: and Li Cu, how do you feel about that?

Li Cu: he doesn’t even know what that phrase means

He doesn’t cope, like ever

In fact

It’s kind of why we met

Which is a funny story in retrospect tbh

Wu Xie: haha what are you talking about sweetie hahaha need I remind you of certain anecdotes that could idk send me to jail maybe lmao

Unknown Number: …You know, perhaps an in-person meeting might be more effective?

Wu Xie: haha such a nice idea but why

Main Chat

Wu Xie: If I go to jail, I’ll have to create alliances for protection, right, that’s how it works on tv

Who do we know who spends time in jail

Other than Hei Yangjing, he’s only ever there for like 12 hours and i suspect he just gets himself arrested bc he enjoys the breaking out process

Also how’s the curtain case coming along

Zhang Qiling: Has someone threatened you?

Wu Xie: well not yet but soon I’m sure

Wang Pangzi: WHERE WAS THIS PARANOIA WHEN WE GOT TAKEN TO THE TEA HOUSE HUH

Snake Eyes Minus Your Fucking Therapist Chat

Li Cu: okay how tf did u pull off spy and undercover shit

u are sus as hell

Wu Xie: damn son is it pick on Wu Xie night

I missed the flyers or I would’ve invited my uncles

Also re: the curtain it’s been mostly solved

Li Cu: I’m not your son, idiot.

Wu Xie: …oh. Sorry, sorry, you’re right, bad choice of words, haha

Forget i said anything

Delete this chat even

Li Cu: shit I meant

Legally, biologically, I meant—

shit

…I turn into an asshole as a coping mechanism?

Wu Xie: oh that’s all okay! I have to go do something else now let me know if you need anything okay kid thanks!

Li Cu: goddamn it calm down who’s the kid here

lemme organize my thoughts so I can articulate my emotions fuckin healthily or w/e

Ugh maybe for like one afternoon we could go to Ms. Lee together? She knows how to word stuff

Wu Xie: uh…okay.

Li Cu: Anyway you don’t need to worry abt jail

As if you would survive prison for one day you’d piss off half the place in like an hour or less

I gave Ms. Lee the heavily edited version of the desert highway to hell roadtrip and i discussed it more in terms of like “nightmarish but still wouldn’t take any of it back”

Well maybe the sand

that shit was everywhere

Wu Xie: oh kiddo. It’s fine, really…You don’t have to explain yourself to me.

Li Cu: no, no it’s just

I do technically have a dad

who is an asshole. Being a son doesn’t really mean shit to me bc it sucked.

So you need to stop backing down just cuz ur guilty abt stuff. I’m really really glad ur not my dad in a good way. Do u get what I mean there

Where’s the mafia widower I followed into hell, huh

Wu Xie: Ur a good kid, despite my influence. I’m really glad you have someone to talk to after everything I…after everything. Wow this talking through feelings thing is kind of weird but nice ur right

Jfc no wonder it took me and xiaoge so long to—you know what, we won’t get into that

Li Cu: ew tmi

Also re: this week’s recent necklace fuckery

I moved my stuff here, I live here now

So you can’t die anymore

Or else…Idk I don’t have a threat planned

anyways abt the curtain

Wu Xie: oh my god, kid…kid you have no idea

I am in tears.

Li Cu: see this is why I can’t be nice to you I can sense the hallmark channel from here

Ugh don’t be sad in ur room that’s dumb

Go hug Pangzi or something

Maybe delete this chat

Or the curtain thing

Focus on the curtain thing

Just stfu and go away

Wu Xie: <3 screenshotting this <3

Li Cu: I take back everything I said. This is why Xiao Ge sleeps on the roof. I hope the ghosts of the Wangs put up that curtain to strangle you somehow. Go die in a stupid way, it’ll suit you.

Wu Xie: lol don’t worry I’m not gonna embarrass you with it or anything

Main Chat

Wu Xie: omg guys look how cute my kid is *sending screenshot*

Wang Pangzi: I MEAN

HE IS WISHING YOU DEATH

BUT SURE

CUTE I GUESS

Wu Xie: no but read the whole thing:):):)

Zhang Qiling: It is indeed very hard to remain angry with you. And you are welcome to join me on the roof.

Wang Pangzi: UH NOPE

NOT WHENI HAD TO BLEACH THE COUNTER IN THE KITCHEN

DONT TRAUMATIZE THE EARLY BIRDS THEYRE ALREADY FREAKED OUT BY U YA HOODIE CRYPTID

Wu Xie: ok true but babe ur like a sexy cryptid

Wang Meng: so, are we just accepting that there is a glittery curtain of unknown origin, and Huo Daofu is going to have to see it while he’s waiting for you at Wushanju bc you’re going to family therapy?

Wu Xie: right

Wang Pangzi: SHOULDA TAKEN EARLY RETIREMENT HUH

Wang Meng: I’m going to go dust something.

Unnamed Chat:

Unknown number: so the curtain…

Unknown number 2: yep, not my best work but I kinda panicked last minute u know

Unknown number: what is in the water at Wushanju that makes everyone dumb and attractive

Unknown number 2: relax they’ll figure it out

[wickedpact]

life's hecticness has finally kinda caught up to me and im just feeling super worn down and im seeking comfort in the old guard and because your blog always sparks joy ive come to you. on the subject of comfort do you have any thoughts on coping mechanisms/ways to comfort themselves the members of the old guard have? and similarly, ways they help comfort the others too? i would love to hear any and all thoughts you might have on the matter <3 - 2ta

in terms of comforting others:

nicky: words. i think its kind of interesting, but every time in the movie we see as character in emotional distress nicky speaks up (its okay nile, tell us, sono qui, everything happens for a reason boss) the only time he breaks this habit is when booker talks about grief in the lab.

booker: we dont rlly see booker explicitly comfort people much but he does seem to tend towards expressions of solidarity or subtle check-ins/expressions of concern (for the former he tells nile about his family, he tells nile big wounds take longer to heal, he reminds andy that ‘this is what you wanted’ and for the latter he asks andy post-stab if shes alright, he tells andy he wont see her again, etc)

hes also quick to (rightfully lmao) accept blame (after the kill floor, when he wont get up when the squad escapes, and the scene where he and andy get captured)

joe: he doesnt do a whole lot of comforting to the non-nicky’s out there interestingly enough. he encourages andy like the others do just after the baklava scene (i know you needed a break but its been over a year boss) he also tends to make little light hearted jokes/comments to lighten the mood sometimes (this plus 'faster than the elevator', etc)

and i suppose one could say him answering nile’s questions during the dinner scene are a type of comfort in itself, tho .. .... his answers arent exactly reassuring lmao

nile: So are you good guys or bad guys?

joe: Depends on the century

(j o s e p h you could have given her a more reassuring answer than that!! altho depending on the person, straight honesty can be very comforting in of itself, and joe prolly knew that andy would dance around nile’s questions and be generally unhelpful)

but additionally joe is a pretty strong protector and worrier about his friends’ well-being. he advocates for finding nile in the train scene and tells the others to ‘cover andy’ when they find out shes mortal

(plus the little touch he does to andy’s back!)

andy: andy’s mileage varies when it comes to comforting (primarily nile of course bc shes the Distressed One in the movie) but a lot of the time she tends towards offering stability and loyalty (me and those three men in there will keep you safe, you’re one of us now we would do the same for you, [to nicky] this changes nothing) which of course makes sense for her. stability and loyalty obviously probably mean so much to andy and as Team Leader shes probably very used to offering those things

nile: nile is more the comfortee than the comforter in the movie for all the obvious reasons, tho i think its interesting that at the end she tells andy ‘youre gonna [spend the time you have left] with us, andy’ not only bc shes delivering that stability/loyalty right back at andy but also bc shes also a leader (in the marines) so she might have a similar situation as andy with offering stability & loyalty as a Leader

being comforted:

nicky: the most notable instance of nicky being upset and getting comforted is obviously the van speech, tho like ive said i doubt joe’s go-to method of comforting nicky is a Speech. tho also (obviously & as ive talked abt a lot) i think he takes a lot of comfort from the idea of destiny/fate and the idea that he and The Lads were all destined to be together. he lomves his friends and hes happy when theyre happy

booker: alcohol.

honestly im not even sure how booker would really like to be comforted/comfort himself besides his given Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms. i think he does take a lot of comfort in his Solidarity with andy tho. considering his ‘that way madness lies’ comment about the immortality and his comment in the comic about ‘whats the purpose of an uncertain immortality?’ and his tendency towards tech, i think he’s the kind of person who likes when things are explainable and logical (and u could say thats a way he foils with nicky i suppose)

joe: him touchy

ive been meaning to make a gifset thats just Joe + Reassurance Through Touch but i keep forgetting about it. hes a very tactile boyo. in the comic while theyre having the nile nightmare joe reaches out and physically grabs nicky’s arm/shoulder in his sleep, like hes subconsciously checking hes still there. he worries So Much about the others (nicky in the armored van, nile in the train scene, andy post-mortality) and their well-being that i think he takes a lot of comfort in knowing all the lads are okay and safe (esp nicky)

andy: like i mentioned i think she likes loyalty and stability, which is obvs something shes had a serious lacking of throughout her life. ik u arent super into the comics but the recent tales through time story about andy went over how she takes comfort in the idea that her axe belonged to her mother once, even if her modern-day axe has had all its parts and pieces replaced so many times its not the axe her mother gave her 7000 yrs ago anymore. however andy still clings to this idea of her axe being her mother’s axe (‘this is the labyrs she held in her hands’). the memory of her family/mother and the stability of having the same axe with her through her history obvs comforts her a lot.

nile: again similarly to andy i feel like loyalty/family comforts nile a lot. she followed her father’s footsteps into the marines and worries about her loyalties to them through the first half of the movie, and tries to go home & thinks about her mom and brother through the whole thing.

(plus, music obvs means a lot to her)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

MICKEYYYYYYYY have i mentioned that i love u. that i would die for u. prince!gojo is so real actually bc i too would burn the world down if u asked <333

BUT HONESTLY u r so unbelievably sweet and kind and it means so much that u liked this fic 🥺🥺🥺 and that u took the time to write these notes!!!! they made me smile so wide u have no idea!!!!! im just abt to go on a lil christmas trip so im gonna be reading em over and over again while im travelling <333

AND U GET ITTTTT im so!!!! so happy bc u really do get their dynamic so well im??? the whole thing abt prince!gojo being spoiled and getting all he wants, but what he wants most of all is for reader to have a good life!!! yes!!!! exactly!!! i wanted to make some of their feelings for each other more subtle but the key part to understanding my prince!gojo is that everything he does is w reader in mind… i dont think he cares at all abt becoming king but he studies for it and works hard bc he knows he can protect u better as a king :< 

(i only kinda hinted at this but that One incident w the castle maid is supposed to be like. life-altering for him…. bc its the first time he feels genuine anger and sees genuine injustice first hand and its directed at his best friend of all people??? in my brain its also the first and only time he sees knight!reader cry and i think hes lowkey traumatized so hes just constantly worried that someone will eventually hurt them and that he’ll have to watch them cry again psbdjdjf I LOVE HIMMMMMM T_T)

OHH IM SO GLAD U LIKE THE LIL KNIGHT AGENDA…. i giggled and kicked my feet writing it. hes just so..... in my head he hates when u call him ”prince” or any royal title bc it feels so impersonal and detached meanwhile hes out here calling u ”little knight” excessively bc he thinks its cute LOL.. its a petname to him <333

and the throat cutting motion….. yeah. one thing i wanted to capture w their dynamic is that prince!gojo is a lil insane and would 100% kill someone for reader meanwhile theyre like haha as a joke right? and gojo just goes. 😙 and doesnt reply PSBDJDJ its Not a joke

and mickey the intimacy…… u get it so well. the entire river scene was basically just me going hmmm how can i make the air between them as silently intimate as possible 🤔🤔…. but u just Get it <33 the hand kiss the smiling!! hearing each others heartbeat…. they make me ILL

aaaaa im sorry this got long as u can tell they make me insane. thank u for bringing them into my life <33 i know ive said this like five times atp but u rly have changed the trajectory of my life im even LESS normal abt gojo than i was before….

i just!!! rly want u to know how much it means to me!! how sweet u r!!!! i am sending u so many hugs rn u dont even KNOW. i hope u have the loveliest day and eat the tastiest food and then have the comfiest sleep anyone has had ever <333 i am telepathically transferring all my happiness to u <333333 i love uuuuu!!

how deep is your devotion? ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only rly hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank u to @softgirlgonehaywire for having the biggest brain in the world and infecting me w this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading u can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look crosses over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air, and you breathe it in. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself. awfully amused.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise your brow. unimpressed.

satoru steps back. inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“.. fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere. “— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily.

his chest is heaving. lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire.

”i can take care of myself,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

a questioning hum. “do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

after a moment’s pause, he shakes his head. cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing.

enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from the faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

[glazelilyy]

aww luce im sorry ur feeling down :( but comfort hcs ummm

kaeya lets you lie down on his chest while he threads his hands through your hair and lets you cry/rant so u can get alllll your sad feelings out,,, and if u don't wanna talk abt it thats fine too !! he starts humming softly, a rlly old nursery rhyme from his childhood in khaenriah that he still recalls, and after a minute or two he'll sing along quietly too - his voice is so mellifluous that you fall asleep rlly quick, and then when you wake up you feel much better ^_^

i hope ur okay luce !! ily and while i may not be kaeya, im here for you if you ever want to rant darling <3 mwah !!!

(i got three similar sort-ofish asks so i decided to chuck em all in one post to save everyone's dash from kaeya spam LOL)

i also absolutely adore the fact that you all thought to give me kaeya headcanons hehehe he's my lil meow meow, much love friends!!/p <3

aaaAAAA quill you are absolutely making me melt right now hngngh you're so right. i know he's often characterized as malicious and manipulative, but honestly i think he's just someone who wants to love and wants to be loved unconditionally. if they fall asleep on his chest he'd give them kisses on the head and forehead AAAA JUST TO REMIND THEM THAT HE'S HERE EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE ASLEEP AAAA /)\\\\\\(\ i bet he has the NICEST singing voice hnngngh *slams credit card on table* KAEYA SINGING MIHOYO WHEN MIHOYO DO IT NOW/j

awjnsfkdbgfdk thank you for caring quill, i really appreciate it!! :) no i did not start tearing up when i read your hc what are you talking about haha- but in all seriousness i'm grateful you wrote something just to cheer me up :) <3

hi lovely anon!! :)

it's quite sweet how similar these two kaeya hcs are, it makes me super happy to know that he's generally thought of as a comforting person who genuinely cares hehe :) AAA AND YOUR HEADCANONS??? nonnie the bit where he puts his scarf around his s/o and hugs them tight asjkgbfdhgbkdg it's so adorable and exactly what he'd do. AND YES STORY TELLING AAAA i've always thought he'd like to go and entertain the orphans in mondstat by reading picture books to them or just making up stories for them since he's so good at it. if you give him a picture book with different characters he'll definitely make cute little unique voices for each character and it's AAAA SO SWEET (can you tell i have many MANY thoughts on this LOL)

thanks for sending me a comfort hc!!! i really adored this one hehe

cooking,,,,with kaeya,,,,AAAAAAA absolutely absolutely YES. i imagine he has a preference of baking over cooking (yes i am projecting a secret sweet tooth onto him mwahahahaha/lh) and he'd purposely get whipped cream on his s/o lips as an excuse to kiss them AAAAAAA :D but back to the hc (im getting sidetracked lolol) yes!!! he acts cocky and charismatic but that doesn't mean he doesn't care, in fact it's completely the opposite. aahgfdhdf and his subtle touches have so many unsaid words in them it'd just be so comforting to receive even a simple hug from him since he's saying so much with just his touch. he definitely would attune his methods of comfort to his s/o's receiving love language since he's pretty versatile and just hgngnghfghgj he'd do anything to make them feel better he's so sweet <3

NONNIE I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW MUCH I LOVED THIS HC i'm having severe brainrot about it hehehe >:) thanks for sharing! <3

[gayspock]

random ds9 thoughts like a month after i finished it

its funny who becomes my fave in retrospect and after i sit with it for some time btw. i came away from ds9, let it sit, bc now im like thinking. my god they did some really good groundwork with kira and she might have been one of my faves the more i think abt it but its like. isnt it all the more sad that, whilst she DID still get some really good episodes later on, exploring her and her situation, that they did sort of.. sighhhh it felt like her overall character arc sort of tapered a little like

her in the beginning. she really is an ex terrorist (by her own admission) whos won the war and now shes been forced into a bureaucratic position and there's exploration there on exactly what that means, how its what shes wanted and how she doesnt have to fight any more and she can help make progress, but also how sometimes thats at the cost of her own principles and directly against things she would have done before (like im thinking the episode progress in particular- i really liked that episode) as well as the delicate balance of her faith and keeping inline with that and doing whats good for bajor and for her people above else but also you know this newfound perspective ... its the way things become more complicated and the transition between fighting tooth and nail for something so singular with your life to the minutae of what it means to go forwards not just in the theory but in the practicality of what that actually means to do and its like. sighhhhhhhhhhh. i will forever be quite sad because whilst i obviously am so happy with all the plotlines the dominion brought in and how that opened the door its just such a shame that the more close, more "smallscale" (as if a planet could ever be such) politics of bajor really did get sort of . shifted off to the side and im not saying kira didnt develop and that those didnt change but i just wish theyd done better by it. like both bareil and shakaar didnt HAVE to be such shallow onscreen relationships and the thing is i dont minddd that i think ive said it before like. i dont mind if a character does just have a relationship thats kind of kept offscreen because whilst a very limited thing it can add something even if again limited BUT the thing is it jsut felt like. the fact they were both such important political presences and they just kinda got wasted? sighhhhhh sigh sigh bc in the end it jsut feels like. kira was floating around quite a lot which isnt bad and like i said she still gave some extremely good stories and was important in the show but it also felt she stagnated a little, like and i suppose you could argue well she did sort of find herself at peace by the end with her position between starfleet and bajor and it was more of a subtle growth from start to end and trueee but nonetheless babe like. potential was had here and its a shame and i think again it does also

like ok. odo/kira lets speak of itbc im weirdly like totally fuckin ambivalent to them at this point and i genuinely mean that like. so totally neutrally like ive said it before like: - started off hearing that it happened and i thought to ymself "thats insane and it doesnt work" - as a precursor to it happening, i did warm up to it a little in the sense of "i dont think they're right for each other but they do obviously care for and have been through stuff together and i think it makes sense if they end up in a relationship for misguided reasons as that would sort of align with them and how they may choose to interpet things before realising we're just besties" - to well i think you missed the opportunity to do that actually now its just been so long where youve had them in this awkward maybe zone and i feel like the aforementioned thing was only applicable to where they were as people at the time and now its les likely - to just: ehrm well i guess its happening? i guess? okay ehrm....

and its like the thing is NOWWW now now now im like. hm. i still just kinda feel neutral like "oh i guess theyre together?" and its like hey you know that can be fine frankly like. i dont think every relationship itself has to have intrigue necessarily - like i guess they CAN just be together, and it would only be annoying if they tried to like. used it and tried to make it more than it actually was which i dont think they did, at least not too much like. the show kind of just had it settled like yes theyre together. no we're not going to do some big tragic nightmare with them theyre just kind of vibing.

but that being said all that being said mannn i feel like... they should have done more with it. not in the sense of like them actually dating-dating like i dont careee abt that sort of thing if that makes sense like ehrm. what i mean is- and they did touch on it a bit - is that i sort of wish they'd use ti more to actually further them as characters if they were going to bother with it in the end like... odo technically being a cardassian collaborator. hi. they did do SOME stuff on that but also its jst like theres things like that where like... i DONT KNOW. and similarly its funny bc. i also kinda felt a little lukewarmish towards odo near the end in a very similar sense to kira bc i REALLY AM OBSESSED with him in the sense of , like- ok autistic king..... bc i did actually really come to love the parallels there and its like you know but i dont know . squints. it felt like he didnt get... the right sort of focus near the end- like he was doing stuff but i jsut wasnt that intrigued by the episodes and the stuff he was doing though granted. i think i need to rwatch some day in general bc i do get so fuzzy with stuff like that and i did get very loopy towards the end of ds9 so hrmm but

my point is idk man idk idk idk like. i jst feel like theres more they could have done and like i said im just not against their whole thing i guess if only... they could have done more with it bc i do think theres a balance to strike there yeah ? with both of them but honestly. anwyays

[diyeoracha]

fanfic recommendations

for @kittensocute bc i heard “atsukita” and “iwaoi” in reference to fanfiction and i am There

i took your “i love slow burn or slow build fics... so i like relatively shorter burn fics (20-30k). If its a 10k oneshot slow burn hELL SIGN ME UP” and absolutely ran with it.

i listed my fav iwaoi fics (17) with a longer word count (longest is 80k) that are all mostly either canon compliant or divergent with only two straight up AUs. none of them feature heavy nsfw content and most if not all are tagged as friends to lovers lmao. feel free to read the my thoughts or just go into them blind!! and they’re all in order of how much I absolutely adore them :^)

now atsukita is not a big ship *sobs* but here are some of my favorite fics (7) of them! a lot of them are shorter bc i guess that’s just. what happens when it’s a small ship LOL. 

the formatting in this is fucked if you open it from ur dash but if it’s on my actual blog it should be fine!

Iwaoi

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle

Word count: 66k

thoughts: my absolute absolute absolute favorite iwaoi fic. the characterization, the fact that oikawa’s a bastard but because he and iwaizumi are older (late 20s i believe), it feels more realistic and sad rather than oikawa being a bitch for the sake of it. spoiler alert it’s slow burn and pining and mostly oikawa not realizing his feelings. this world building is pretty cool bc iwaizumi is the professional player while oikawa is an entomology professor! also i love non-linear narratives bc of This fic. there’s mutual pining in this fic but it’s really really really subtle to the point where you dont even know if oikawa likes iwa. this made me cry like twice.

sunset towns

Word count: 33k

Summary: In the summer of 2020, Oikawa Tooru returns home from his first successful stint as captain of Japan’s national volleyball team. In one hand, he holds the undisputed weight of an Olympic medal, and in the other, his unresolved feelings for a childhood best friend.

thoughts: the tone in this is So similar to the courtship ritual that I liken this as an alternate story even though it’s still oikawa’s pov. professional player oikawa and regular guy iwaizumi and oikawa is just. bumming around at iwaizumi’s place and naturally he messes up but things happen.

told before and told again

word count: 4k

thoughts: i looked through literally all the tags i could’ve thought of for this and nearly cried when i found it agian. outsider POV!!

In damp earth my body

Word count: 15k

Summary: Onscreen, the nation’s favorite setter has arranged himself so that he’s bowing, forehead pressed to the court, like he’s thanking everyone for their kindness thus far, like he’s asking for forgiveness. Hajime thinks: shit, it’s really happening

thoughts: oikawa retires and moves in with iwaizumi and they blur the line between roommates/best friends and being fwb. this is an iwaizumi pov and the pining is obvious on his end. as a iwa stan the tone made me feel weird bc it makes it seem like iwa cares more abt oikawa than he cares abt himself but. its a good fic

i grew up, you grew down

word count: 19k

thoughts: this is also SO funny bc basically oikawa retires and moves in with iwaizumi and becomes his stay at home wife and a bunch of shit happens like people think that oikawa is dating ushijima and oikawa basically loses it every time. here’s one of my favorite quotes:

“Oikawa also bought a new ultra-strength vacuum cleaner he’d decided to name Ushiwaka out of sheer spite, because it sucked all the air right out of the room. Iwa-chan didn’t think the joke was that funny when Tooru told him, which was frankly very hurtful and insensitive.”

Mint

Word count: 19k

thoughts: iwaizumi is moving and oikawa planned a perfect last hangout and it goes to shit featuring matsuhana. oikawa pov where he pines more than iwa which is something i can get behind!! and this was written in 2015 and iwa’s moving bc of a sports medicine program so iwaizumi stans know and love him sm ;;

Almost a Stranger

Word count: 16k

thoughts: same premise as mint LOL except they’re on a trip together and there’s more non-linear narrative!! this one is a little more mature in tone than mint i would say (funny how people just like splitting them up and throwing them in different countries huh)

with every second that you could give

Word count: 9k

Summary: The journey of Iwaizumi and Oikawa going for gold.

Quote: He knows they’re too close. Iwaizumi knows it too, and they both decided to move in together anyway.

thoughts: iwaoi roommates and they’re both obviously and really pine-y for each other and everyone sees it but them. srsly. they’re sleeping in the same bed. like my god

Lost in Translation

Word count: 9k

Summary: Because misfortune come in threes, Iwaizumi Hajime starts his Thursday having a screaming fight with Shittykawa, spends his lunch break listening to the UCI women’s volleyball team gossiping about how Ushijima Wakatoshi had gone public about his longtime love affair with Oikawa Tooru, and closes out the day by drunkenly dropping his phone into a sewer grate.

thoughts: so funny. so sososoosso genuinely funny. the tone is so snappy and iwaizumi honestly just sounds like a confused teenager (which he is in this) and it gets extra points for including a lot of american culture that a lot of the other iwaoi college au ones don’t include for like. obvious reasons lol.

Something Borrowed

Word count: 16k

Summary: In which Oikawa and Iwaizumi have always been a foregone conclusion to everyone else, but a massive, unanswered question to one another.

thoughts: iwaoi roommates thats abo but it’s like. mentioned twice. whiny and possessive oikawa makes an appearance in this but it’s done really well

things that change, things that stay the same

Word count: 8k

Summary: Oikawa realizes he’s in love with his best friend; it sucks for a while. (But only for a little while.)

thoughts: high school getting together!! my second iwaoi fic ever and this one is just. so sweet. just an unsure oikawa realizing iwaizumi might be more than someone he wants as a best friend. this fic is honestly really really lovely.

galaxies, within you

Word count: 21k

Summary: Hajime and Tooru move in together at the start of university. Too bad they’re stuck with the two gremlins that haunt their apartment.

thoughts: ok this fic was so funny. theyre uni roommates and matsuhana just come fuck shit up and they all act like idiots together even though they go to different schools. and this really throws me back to university days.

Thirty Years and Change (the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad)

Word count: 19k

thoughts: pro! oikawa and iwaizumi haven’t been close for a while until oikawa invites iwaizumi to go to the games with him. there’s a lot of frustration and pining and actually talking about feelings (aka iwaizumi losing his mind and getting advice from people like akaashi)

when it starts to rain, they go inside

Word count: 33k

Summary: “Where?” starts Iwaizumi.“ My parent’s old lakehouse, silly, didn’t you hear me the first time?” OR: Oikawa takes Iwaizumi to his lakehouse for two weeks, post-graduation.

thoughts: this was actually my first iwaoi fic which is funny bc the author doesn’t even like oikawa much and i didnt even ship anything in haikyuu before i read this fic and now im in iwaoi hell. oikawa is really frustrating in this in that it’s basically a really good character analysis on how oikawa comes off as a Mean person all the time bc he’s manipulative and there’s some explicit content

shiver

Word count: 16k

Summary: Oikawa was always the brave one. Hajime just followed two paces behind.

thoughts: iwaoi roommates with oikawa admitting his feelings first back when they were in middle school and iwaizumi putting that thought on the backburner until. obviously. things happen.

Desperado

word count: 80k

thoughts: one of my favorite aus. it’s all from kyoutani’s perspective and it’s almost so au that they’re original characters (if that makes sense). basically iwaoi matsuhana are ex-grifters except iwaoi are estranged and daishou somehow brings everyone back together. excellent world building and reading the pov from someone not involved with the iwaoi drama was refreshing

sing with me a song of conquest and fate

word count: 26k

thoughts: a mythical kings au that’s just. so pretty. iwaizumi ends up becoming oikawa’s servant for some reason and the world building is a+ because you can feel the trust and frustration from both of them build

Atsukita

dreams of me and you

word count: 10k (incomplete)

my second atsukita fic that rly sent me down atskt hell ;; what is essentially post-break up when atsumu gets signed to msby and he’s just Pining and sad for the most part. but the established relationship pre-break up was written really nicely because it just fits my hc of them just being domestic and atsumu being blatantly head over heels

take me home

word count: 4k

i read this this morning and it wrecked me. domestic relationship atsukita?? sign me up

No time like the rest of my life

word count: 19k

mythology au with kita as a regular person and rest of inarizaki as fox spirits! it’s cute and the world building is absolutely lovely but it is an au so they might seem ooc but their core character values are still there

wild blue yonder

word count: 6k

literally full of similes and metaphors and it’s more of an abstract read i guess? but it’s so beautiful and soft and this is exactly how i imagine their relationship

reap and sow

word count: 8k

atsumu confesses and kita ignores him and it’s a couple years after the fact and it’s mostly just weirdly domestic almost roommate like except for the fact that atsumu makes it clear he likes kita LOL. they’re really in character for this!

weightless souls

word count: 2k

pillow talk before atsumu’s first game! the atsumu pov and voice is amazing

if we were both alone

word count: 7k

now this was actually my first atskt fic that sent me down this rare pair hell. it’s an explicit chat fic (both tropes i usually try to avoid) but atsumu types like me (except for the nsfw parts alksfjd) so i guess i like. feel appreciation LMAO.

if you do read like any of these fics pls let me know so we can discuss

♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

[snakeningel]

not to be starting homestuck race disk horse in 2019 but yknow what? I Will.

being an asian fan in the hs fandom is kinda, not great actually. in fact, it not only feels like we’re not here at all, that we’re erased, but its honestly? downright harmful. people treat the trivialization and fetishization of your culture to be,,, like a Big Joak. yall joke about weebs like these people havent been literally grooming and abusing asian girls, like we havent been made fun of enough for Their actions, like we aren't already viewed as the strange punchlines to jokes that still seem somehow acceptable. its somehow funny to joke about how you hate every sign of asian culture that shows up throughout the comics, like how dirk’s kotatsu was dumb and pretentious as if people in japan dont literally live with one and use it every single day!

even asian-coding in characters get swept away in favour of other headcanons. even the megidos, who are as close to canonically asian as they possibly can be in a medium like homestuck, are often drawn white or something completely different altogether. the stridlondes are also heavily asian-coded, and the fans who do pick up on that, who finally feel comforted by someone like them as protagonists? they often just.. give up on that, because they see so little representation in the fandom. (theres only like one popular artist i know of that draws the strilondes asian? but like, hats off to u pal, youre fighting the good fight). also, it seems strange, to be represented so little considering almost 3 billion people on earth is asian, which is, Quite A Lot to be not represented a lot. dont get me wrong, i adore the outpouring of more diverse art of the kids, but a hard truth to swallow is that pocs being weebs/fetishizing asian culture, is just as harmful as white people doing the same. there is a world of difference between japanese dirk, trying to interface with his lost culture by clinging to the most performative and popular parts of it, than another dirk, appropriating people’s cultures because he thinks its funny or interesting based off a show he watched once. i love how people are like "wow the striders like anime and care about traditions and use japanese words and overall just seem like diaspora kids" and the conclusion they draw from that is "clearly,, they cannot be asian" bc a non-asian person being interested in those things is better than an asian person whose interested in their own culture i guess??

in fact, a lot of these narratives are so much more interesting once theyre looked at through their coded lenses!

Dave’s struggle with coming to terms with his emotions strikes such an interesting chord when the striders’ concept of irony and never showing their emotions Correspond so well to the idea of honour/face, where youre not supposed to show that youre Ever Sad or anything that isnt a positive emotion because it shows that youre a Failure and You Failed and that makes you a Bad Person, which is exactly what dave struggles with because hes So Guilty about it, which ties to the guilt and shame a lot of asian people feel about not being able to live up to impossible standards set by their parents, which is another theme we see reflected in all four strilondes. 

rose’s strained relations with her mother are mirrored in so many of our second-generation lives and makes so much more cultural sense when looked at that way. the weird distance you hold from your parents, where you cant look each other in the eyes anymore, because every interaction feels more like a business transaction. you hand in your good grades and praise from teachers, talking about how mature you are, and they return with some present or gift that you don't really want. you dont know anything about them, and they dont know anything about you, Not the person you Actually Are, anyways. but there is a yearning, to be close, to know eachother, but you only feel it in return when its too late. as well as her Obsession to be mature, to be smart and adult-like because thats what shes praised for, because you Need to be academically the best always and that means reading dictionaries until the sun goes down, repeating each word until they are engraved into your mind. always finding competition, subtle or not, because if you are not the winner, what are you?  dirk’s wild performative love of japanese culture (which also, in turn, lead to non-asian fans literally trashing it like it was a funny joke to call someone’s culture lame and stupid) seems like ‘ironic’ weebism, but its also being Exactly the type of over-the-too performative reclaiming of our culture that so many asian diaspora kids do when they’re teens! they feel bad about pushing away their culture as youth, but they’re not quite mature enough to actually care about the rich history and ‘boring’ parts, so they cling to pop culture, to social media and something so much more easily consumable, like anime. which is not even to mention the idea of him trying desperately to connect to a culture that he has never grown up in, but still belonged to by consuming mass amounts of media, being Such an immigrant story. as well as his massive competitive streak and need to make other people as good as he is (but not better), is the type of internalized pressure that a lot of asian kids feel as well. 

and all the stridlondes have various anxieties about not performing well enough, of not living up to a standard that they have set for themselves, feeling like even a single step back or even one mistake is a catastrophic failure that’s branded to you for life. Which is just as much of a mental health thing as it is like,,, an asian thing

this is getting really long so im cutting myself off here but please if you want to hear more about my Thoughts and Hot Takes feel free to shoot me an ask. 

in conclusion: please treat asian people better hs fandom i literally beg you. like,, im Not tryna make waves but,, asian erasure in fandom is a huge issue and no one ever talks abt it!! dont trivialize, fetishize and erase cultures blease  big thanks to @ernikerr and @wyndryga for encouraging me to go Off and helping to write this.

anyone please feel free to rb but non-asian people please watch your mouth

[babysizedfics]

ok i have two (2) asks and i will send them separately but number one (1) do u think roman uses humor to cope with things when big because like. i relate to roman too much in general but also i really really relate to ur roman in this and i do that way too much because its easier so i was just wondering if that was a thing he did? and if it were to be a thing he did how do u think the others would react? like im self deprecating but is roman? idk sorry rambling 🐝

this turned into a long post exploring romans characterisation so thank u bee anon!!

i think Roman uses humour sometimes but mainly i think its can just be described as acting out? like acting proud and big

i keep saying when roman feels small he acts big and that has nothing to do with being little - when roman feels inadequate and embarrassed and sorrowful (small) he acts loud and proud and confident (big) and stands taller and puffs out his chest - this doesnt mean everytime he is proud he's hiding insecurities, he does it when hes actually happy too. its just like he's trying to force happy on himself by acting like this when hes sad

i think the times he makes jokes are more when he feels awkward. i said before when theyre big and roman wants to support virgil he holds his hand, but he blurts something random or makes a loud joke as he does it to try to distract from the action because its obviously a vulnerable move and he doesnt want anyone to dwell on that

i really don't think my roman is very self deprecating, he acts very proud but most of that is real, he really is pretty full of himself. and he actually has never talked down about himself, he feels bad when hes frightened and he can sometimes think hes stupid but its not that intense and he never voices these things and definitely never makes jokes abt them

he just hates feeling anything less than regal and strong so if he feels scared he feels weak and he pretends to be bigger and more confident because he hopes it will chase away the inadequate feelings, and it does help him a little bit - sure he needs to talk through these feeings to work through them but actually standing taller and being extra big brotherly and protective of vee to distract from his bad feelings does make him feel better in himself and reminds him that even if he feels sad and not very glittery he's still the same brave prince roman

its actually a pretty healthy thing for him i think, since he does talk about his feelings if theyre really bothering him - take chapter 5 of LABD where he sighs dramatically and virgil asks what wrong and roman immediately rants about how he wants to do a valiant act for vee. or in chapter 8 where patton asks him whats wrong and again he sighs dramatically then immediately admits that he's scared the family will split up. he might act out to try not to look weak and sad but he doesnt actually hide his feelings

also it makes him feel safer to know that the others still see him as strong and brave even when he feels down and small

the others do all notice, romans not exactly subtle.

big virgil tends to scoff and fondly calls roman a dumbass or a sap and accepts his hand holds or suggests they do something fun if roman clearly needs a distraction - it's also to make sure roman isnt around logan when he's like this (i'll talk more abt that in a bit)

and baby vee doesnt really notice he just likes that his big brother is babying him more and will subconsciously latch onto him at these times (i think without knowin, vee actually picks up on the fact that roman needs to baby vee to feel better and vee gives him all his attention)

patton thinks its kind of cute that roman preens like a peacock and gets more flamboyant and loud and confident, though he also makes sure to give ro a lot of attention since he clearly needs it - he tends to big roman up like if he's little he'll say things like 'you're such a brave little prince' 'what a big boy you are' 'you're a really great role model for your baby brother roman!' - he highlights the fact that roman is the bigger older brother because that makes little roman feel proud and happy

logan is the one who doesnt take too fondly to it tbh - he doesn't hate it, and he would never ever judge someone for their coping mechanism, but the two tend to clash most when roman acts more cocky (don't tell them but it's because theyre both full of themselves and neither likes to feel threatened by someone else acting more important)

logan also doesnt have much of a filter and will outright state that roman is clearly acting out due to feelings of inadequacy, and that only makes roman lash out with nicknames and mocking logan because sure he loves attention almost always, but when the attention is on how he is messing up he cant stand it - this tends to result in arguments between lo and ro

virgil hates it whenever anyone argues - including himself, he gets shaky from fear of confrontation - it sets of his anxiety and he will actively keep logan and roman away from each other if he notices roman is overcompensating with his ego and pride. he is of course hypervigilant and clocks onto romans weird moods pretty quickly and either gets roman to hang out with him or, if roman is busy or doesnt feel like it, he'll keep logan preoccupied

roman and logans relationship is an interesting one, it's very turbulent. little roman looks up to mom logan a LOT and is a little bit intimidated by him because he thinks his mom is really cool and clever. he can sometimes feel almost scared of logan, though not a lot, just in the sense that he knows logan has a lot of say in what is good for vee's regression and he's scared one day logan will decide roman is one of the things that is not good for vee and will split them up (this is a recurring fear of roman's that's consistent throughout all of the fics: he's scared he will lose his brother - because he already experienced that once)

and when roman forst became a little, logan was actually a bit confused and sceptical, he didn't know that you could be a little without mentally regressing and couldnt figure out why roman did it. it obviously gets resolved before LABD since he treats roman like a kid then, but their relationship is still a little bumpy. they really get into their roles and love playing together and logan does treat the boys as equally 'real' littles, roman still gets bedtime and affection and rules and stuff, but sometimes the facade breaks a little and they both remember that theyre still just adults, theyre still logan and roman who otherwise would never act like this together.

theres a moment in LABD chapter 8 where logan is tickling roman, its very joyful and cute, then a bit later theyve stopped, ro is on his moms lap and vee says he wants to play with roman. roman is reluctant and strokes his fingers along logans arm which is hugging him - he doesnt want to give up this special time with mom because mom is almost never this physically affectionate with him. but logan immediately gets roman off his lap and leaves and its because he suddenly realised 'oh this isnt a child, this is roman, adult roman who is very aware of the fact that i just tickled him and pulled him into my lap'

so logan gets self conscious that adult roman is fully aware of how different and affectionate logan acts as mama logan.

anyway yeah i REALLY went off track im sorry 😳😳

[kingkatsuki]

honestly im fucking MAD at how much POWER bakugou and kiri would have in grey sweatpants, like especially kiri with what he’s packing down there like JSHDNSJF i wanna be called out by them for staring at the outline of their dick. i feel like baku would be openly cocky abt it while kiri would be more subtle but still teasing like baku. i think them catching their crush not being able to look away from their dickline would boost their ego to the max bro and i want them to tease me abt it 😔👉👈

Honestly, there’s a reason 90% of my thirst posts with those guys involve them wearing grey sweatpants. Because they radiate big dick energy.

Bakugou would probably be like “my eyes are up here, shithead.” Or something like that, completely hiding the fact that he’s smug after that you’re looking at his evident bulge. That doesn’t mean he wants you to look away though, he knows you’ll end up glancing back down and he loves it. Because we all know Bakugou wears his pants low, he’ll purposefully stretch or adjust himself while his red eyes are watching you.

Kirishima would give a small smile, completely aware exactly where you’re looking but he probably wouldn’t call you out. Instead he’d be like “Are you okay? You look a little warm,” and when he moves to put the back of his hand on your forehead all bets are off. His bulge is right fucking there-