#in both series and can figure out a realistic reason one

[prettyboykatsuki]

if i wrote a gangbang what fandom would you want me to write it for

[chanranghaeys]

🥛 just like a tattoo

Waking up was always something you looked forward to, especially if the first sight in the morning is Vernon and his hidden little secrets, and maybe his cute chocolate milk carton.

pairing: idol!tattooed!vernon x gn!reader, reader is identified to be female word count: 1.3k tags: slice of life, fluff first thing in the morning, vernon has multiple tattoos (in my head) listed in detail warnings: slight sexual overtones, pg-13 at most 😇

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The light burns through your eyes, waking you from a dreamless slumber. Looking around, you find the source of the almost blinding glare: the patch of sun bleeding through the curtains of the already-lightened room. You glance at the clock hanging from the wall across you. It was 8 am on a Sunday—a perfect reason to sleep in.

You slowly move around the bed and find that you are already wearing a slightly loose shirt and panties. Memories of last night flood your mind and you close your eyes again almost as if in bliss. It’s been a good two weeks since you two spent the night together, and while you both maybe kinda slightly expected it, both of you were still surprised at how deep the need was for one another, as evidenced by the slight ache in your thighs and back while you moved. Nothing you couldn’t manage, but definitely more reason to just stay in bed.

When you turn again, you see his slim figure leaning against the door frame and you wonder how long he’d been watching you toss and turn. He had no shirt on because you realized that you had his shirt on your back, and his boxers were slung dangerously low as if haphazardly thrown on. And while you’ve marveled at this sight too many times than you can count, you still can’t help but look at his body in awe.

People could say he had a sleeper bod, and you agreed, but it wasn’t something he cared for. If he was healthy and able to move about, he was content with that. But with all the activity his job demanded, his body followed suit. He wasn’t all muscle or all skin, but he was built sturdily and toned in the places that got the most use—that is to say, his arms, thighs, and core. His naturally light skin tone almost looked sallow in the places that didn’t get much sun, but it only enhanced what he permitted only your, and very few other, eyes to see.

Strokes of black both thick and thin were scattered across his torso in a most curated manner. They weren’t a lot, but you knew that his tattoos were his most well-kept secret from the K-pop industry, and you knew it was the deepest privilege to be able to even have a glimpse of one, much less all that can be hidden behind a shirt. You’ve memorized all of them at this point.

On his right chest near his lower rib was a simple line of text in all caps inspired by a line from “The Matrix”: SEE IT FOR YOURSELF. Another text tattoo lined the left side of his torso, this time a vertical stack of letters spelling out MELODY—once a temporary tattoo for a concert, now permanent to forever honor his mother.

There was one tattoo that he knew people were aware of and didn’t mind much, and that was the small star tattoo at the back of his right ear’s helix, but little did people know that it was only one of a series, with the rest of the small stardust sparkles smattering his back near his right shoulder blade. Specifically, there were five of them, one representing each member of his tight-knit family, including Jazzy and Leo Chwe.

Amidst the minimalist tattoos was one that stood out as more realistic than others—a medium-sized sunflower head on his left hip, its petals you could see right now peeking from the top band of his boxers. People knew of his sister Sofia’s own sunflower tattoo down her left thigh, but fewer people knew that when she was 17 and he was 23, they both talked about how they’d get matching sibling tattoos and their discussion landed on sunflowers. While Vernon wished he could place it in a more prominent spot, he knew better than to do such a thing.

“Did you sleep well, baby?” His deep morning voice broke your reverie as you finally settled on his eyes, his gaze forever the most piercing one you never could break. You gave him a lazy, mischief-laden smile.

“The best sleep I’ve had in weeks. I guess I have someone to thank for making sure I was knocked out last night.”

He let out a light-hearted scoff and drank from his chocolate milk carton. “You know that I was just following your lead, right? I asked you what you wanted, I just gave it to you.”

“I know.” You rolled your eyes, recalling how you were practically begging him with tears in your eyes—the utter hold he had on you was intoxicating. It was those clear brown eyes, you swore so. “I hate you.”

“I love you, too.” At that, he gave you the softest smile and his gaze eventually followed suit.

“I love you more.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I hate you.”

He laughed again and shifted his weight off the door frame and moved toward you. You sat up to meet him in an embrace, your head resting on his warm chest as he kissed your head.

“Can we stay in, Nonie? Please? Pleaseeeeeee?” You look up at his raised eyebrow and pursed lips, swearing you will never get tired of his expressions that said exactly what he was thinking. Right now it obviously said, “Are you kidding me right now?”

“What if…” You trailed off mid-sentence as you lowered your hands to the waistband of his boxers, brushing your thumb over the sunflower’s petals suggestively. At that, he drew in a sharp breath and stepped away. He knew what you were capable of, so he had to stop it right there.

“Easy, young lady. You know we won’t get anywhere with that attitude of yours. We’ll be late if you keep that up.” The scene was comical, his serious expression and pointed finger at you in warning just did not suit the fact that his other hand held an unfinished milk carton.

You grab the carton from his hand and take a generous sip, grateful for the cool and sweet liquid down your parched throat. “Fine. But could you at least make me coffee? Or something that will wake me up more than this chocolate milk of yours?”

“It’s in the kitchen. I also made French toast!” His smile as he said this was so bright, it was the gummy smile you so loved from him. But it was what he said that made you stop mid-sip of milk.

“You what?”

“I made French toast. And bacon and eggs because it was the easiest after the French toast, which was not as easy as it looked when I did it with you.”

“And you made coffee?”

He shrugged. “I knew you were gonna wake up late,” finishing with a smirk. “Now come on. And give me back my milk carton before you finish it all.” He took back his drink and did not leave your side until you finally stood your lazy ass up. “There’s my good girl,” he says, followed by him slapping said ass teasingly, then walking out of the room with a final grin.

When he faced his back to you, you saw the most recent tattoo he got: a minimalist rendition of a rock with googly eyes on the small corner of its lower left. You remember watching “Everything, Everywhere, All at Once” in the cinema with him, the last full show of the day, and he would not shut up about it. You got it though, you truly did, and you’d both talk for hours on end about the film. So it was decided: it was the first matching tattoo you got together.

Could love really be this easy? You thought to yourself, as you smiled and got ready for payback.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

a/n: frickin’ vernon and his damn hip tattoo living rent-free in my headcanons. i blame my friends for planting this idea in my head and as a result, this came to be. i shall now leave you all with this mental image so i do not suffer alone HEHE

[katyswrites]

put on your records (and regret me)

PART 3 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: asshole!Steve, rivals-to-lovers, swearing, alcohol use, recreational weed use, descriptions of puking/hangovers, no use of y/n, not quite smut but we're getting close folks

Wordcount: 4.3k

Playlist

You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indiana’s top college radio station. It’s your safe space, your niche. It’s where you’ve made your friends, your favorite place to be when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.

Steve Harrington is a thorn in your side. And just as well - he thinks you’re a royal pain in the ass. But in your senior year, you’re both on the e-board, so you have to work together. You love to hate him. So why can’t you get him out of your head? And, why do you find yourself going to see his band, each and every weekend?

Underground basement concerts, spinning old records, and screaming matches in the vinyl library with the boy you love to hate. An enemies-to-lovers college radio station 90s AU.

TRACK 3

You don’t see Steve for nearly a week after that - you hang around the radio station quite a bit, as you usually do, but never manage to run into him. You should be thankful for that - for how peaceful it is. It’s not even like you want to see him - no, why would you? He’s a pain in your ass, and you should be thankful that you can do your job in peace. 

No, it’s not actually at the station that you see him next - though, it’s tangentially related. You’re at perhaps your second-favorite place in the world - Varsity Vinyl, the local record shop downtown. It has some of the best selection you’d seen, and you always find yourself there - buying for your own growing record collection, or rooting through the used and discounted bin to help stock the station’s vinyl library. It’s where you find yourself on a Saturday afternoon, flipping through records while figuring how much money you actually realistically are able to spend.

You don’t see him, not at first. He’s standing further down the aisle, and when you finally look up and spot him, you nearly jump - he’s just staring at you, eyes wide. You straighten up, just holding eye contact - you feel like two wild animals sizing each other up, deciding whether to run or fight. You’re truly deciding between those two options when he clears his throat.

“Oh - uh, hey,” he says, quieter than you had expected.

“Hey.”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, a beat of silence passing between you. Then, you both find yourselves speaking at once:

“Your party was fun the other night -”

“Are you okay -”

You both pause, and you awkwardly laugh.

“Sorry, uh - the party was fun last weekend. Thanks,” you say quietly.

Steve shrugs.

“Oh, yeah - glad you came. You… you seemed like you were having a good time.”

Like I made an absolute fool of yourself, more like, you think to yourself.

“Oh! I mean - I guess. Sorry if I got a little - uh -”

“It’s fine, don’t worry - we’ve had worse,” Steve assures.

He hasn’t said anything about bringing you home. Part of you is convinced that Eddie was misinformed, and Steve didn’t actually bring you home that night - that is, if it wasn’t for that stupid note. The note you probably should have thrown out, but stuck into a desk drawer instead - to refer to later, just to make sure you weren’t crazy, you had reasoned.

But now, Steve is standing in front of you, more quiet and withdrawn than you’ve ever seen in the past four years of knowing him.

“So, uh - thanks,” you say quickly, almost mumbling.

“For what?” he asks, confused.

“For, um, getting me home safe - I don’t really remember it, but -”

He waves you off. “Oh, that - don’t worry about it. The hardest part was getting you to tell me your address,” he says, laughing. “You were wasted.”

You groan. “That’s…embarrassing.”

He smirks. “Honestly, yeah, a little bit. But most people were gone by then, so… your secret’s safe with me.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“I mean - I’m surprised you didn’t tell everybody - how I was, you know, throwing up all over your apartment, being a drunk idiot -”

Why didn’t he? It’s leverage - a way to make people lose respect for you, and gain more for him. A part of this stupid, pointless power battle you two seem to always be involved in, seeing how far you can push one another. His response is unexpected.

“You don’t actually think that little of me, do you?”

You don’t really know how to answer that.

He scoffs. “Look, it’s not my fault that you can’t hold your alcohol for shit. But, I’m not going to go around telling everyone that, okay? Christ -”

He trails off, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re welcome, though.”

You suddenly feel like a bit of an asshole - Steve is used to you throwing insults his way, but this time, it seems to have struck a chord with him.

“I was in a really bad way, wasn’t I?” you ask quietly, avoiding eye contact.

He nods. “Honestly? Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. You really don’t remember?”

You shake your head, face feeling flushed with embarrassment. He just sighs.

“What do you remember?”

You rack your brain for a moment, biting your lip absentmindedly as you think.

“Um - I remember playing Kings with everyone… and, uh…”

I remember you coming in from the porch with what’s-her-face on your arm -

“-and it gets fuzzy after that,” you say quickly.

“Oh, okay - wow, that’s pretty early on. Well, you did some shots with Eddie and Robin - you got on the kitchen table at one point ... I think you threw up over my balcony… and after that I, uh, hung out with you in the bathroom while you threw up some more, and brought you home.”

You freeze. “Wait - you babysat me, like, the whole time? I thought that was Eddie -”

“No way, Eddie was too high to help anyone. I was stone-cold sober by that point, thanks to you.”

“Oh,” you say, wishing you could sink into the floor. Steve fucking Harrington knew what you looked like keeled over a toilet and puking your guts out… dammit.

“It was pretty gnarly, but… it’s fine. Really, it’s okay.”

For maybe the first time in his life, it sounds like Steve is being sincere with you. Another beat of silence passes, then he’s clearing his throat again.

“So… you have any big plans tonight? A repeat of last weekend, maybe?” he asks casually. You furrow your brow, confused.

“Um - do you actually care?”

He shrugs. “So what if I do?”

“Well - no, after last weekend I’m not sure if I ever want to drink again -”

“The most famous lie ever told,” he cuts in, grinning. You just roll your eyes, and pretend to be interested in perusing the records as you return to flipping through the crates.

“-but it just so happens that I do have plans tonight,” you say quietly.

“Hot date?”

You scoff. “I’m going to Fuze Box. Nancy’s covering some bands for an article for the campus paper, and I figured I’d check out who's playing tonight.”

WAMC has a long-standing relationship with Fuze Box, a small music venue for local artists and college bands. A lot of students and station members play there, and shows at the Box get advertised a lot on the air. You try to go to local gigs as much as you can - though, you haven’t made as much of an effort lately, too overwhelmed by other responsibilities as station manager. Nancy’s article is a good excuse to go, for the first time all semester.

“So, you don’t know any of the bands playing tonight?” he asks, leaning against a shelf and crossing his arms.

You shake your head. “Nope - just figured I’d check it out, go in blind. Maybe I’ll even put some of the bands in my radio slot next week, if they’re selling CDs or something.”

Steve grins mischievously.

“Right - well, have fun, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname, and know that any semblance of an awkward peace between you two is gone - the Steve you know and love (to hate) is back. You turn to make a clever retort, but he’s gone, having stalked off to a different aisle.

You’re not sure what he’s up to, but part of you now has a sneaking suspicion that he might show up at the venue tonight just to piss you off - it’s such a Steve move.

As you go to the checkout, you do your best to shake it - after all, what’s the worst that can happen?

*****

“Thank you - we’ve been Lime of Decision - goodnight!” the lead singer shouts, a collection of hollers and applause following. The lights go up a bit, some venue staff coming out to the stage to adjust the equipment for the next band.

“Lime Of Decision is… a choice,” Nancy says, scribbling something into her notebook.

“Yeah, that’s because their name is literally meant to be a joke,” you say absentmindedly.

“What?”

“Jason, the lead singer? His ex-girlfriend is in a band called Lemon Of Choice, so it’s like…funny. I think.”

Nancy chuckles, shaking her head.

“Which band is better?”

“Definitely hers,” you say immediately.

You and Nancy both stare at each other for a moment, and break into a fit of giggles.

“I’m going to get another drink, you want anything?” she asks.

You shake your head, holding up the cup of beer you’re still nursing from the beginning of the last band’s set.

She disappears into the crowd, and you sigh, taking a drink as you once again survey the room. If Steve actually is here, you haven’t spotted him yet - maybe he decided that getting on your nerves wasn’t worth actually paying the cover at the door. Or, maybe he actually had more important plans - maybe even with that girl he was all cozy with at the party -

You stop yourself - why do you care? If anything, it should be a good thing that he doesn’t seem to be here. 

There’s two more bands left to go - you had glanced at the flier on the way in, but only recognized Lime Of Decision in the lineup. So, when Nancy returns with a new drink and the lights begin to dim again, you just hope the next band is better - it can really be hit or miss at these sorts of shows.

Darius, the radio station’s tech engineer, is emceeing the show. He steps out on stage to introduce the next band, earning a smattering of cheers and hollers thrown in his direction.

“Alright, alright everyone! Settle down - that includes you, Hagan - Jesus Christ, okay - can we give it up for the amazing bands we’ve heard so far tonight?”

You clap along with the rest of the crowd, rolling our eyes at the sound of particularly rowdy hollers from the back that you just know comes from Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin.

Darius’ eyes narrow.

“Dammit, Munson - when I said a month-long ban, I meant it -”

You glance back to see Eddie flipping Darius off - famously, Corroded Coffin got a temporary suspension from Fuze Box for smoking weed in the green room. But, the ban actually being enforced… not likely.

Darius rolls his eyes, struggling to get the room back on track as he taps the microphone.

“Okay, okay - everyone, can we please - if you all can shut the fuck up - okay, whatever. The next band up tonight - you guys know and love. They’re a Fuze Box favorite - and no, they are not promising anything with the name. Give it up for Free Beer!

You can’t help but laugh at the band’s name - you instinctively turn to Nancy, who is doing her best to stifle a giggle as she writes something on her notepad, squinting in the dark.

It’s during those few seconds while you’re looking away that the band takes the stage - which is why, when you glance back, you freeze as you see who’s standing front-and-center.

Steve stands at the mic stand, an electric guitar slung over his shoulders as he smiles at the crowd.

You freeze. Other band members - including Robin and Argyle, who you know all too well from the radio station - come out onto the stage behind him. But you’re just staring at Steve, dumbfounded.

You knew he had a band - scheduling them to perform on the air was always a nightmare for you, which you knew Steve did on purpose. So, you had never learned anything about them on-principle. You hadn’t heard a lick of music, didn’t know who else was in it, or even the goddamn name - until right now.

Nancy’s eyes are on you, you can feel it. You turn briefly to look at her.

“Do you want to leave?” she asks, glancing at where Steve stands on stage. You shake your head.

“God, no! I - I’m an adult, I can be in the same room as Harrington,” you say, laughing nervously. You’re not sure how much you believe yourself. She stares at you for a moment, then just nods, turning her attention back to the stage, where Steve is stepping up to the mic.

“Hey guys - we’re Free Beer. I’m Steve -”

A few feminine voices cheer from the back. Your eyes roll so far to the back of your head that you’re worried you’ll go blind.

“Thanks, ladies, love the enthusiasm. So - let’s just get into it. Ready to hear some songs?”

There’s an eruption of cheers through the audience - one of the biggest reactions of the night so far.

“Alright - this one is called ‘Closer,’ I hope you enjoy.”

From the moment he plays the first chord, something shifts in the room. The crowd becomes less rowdy, less chatty. No - everyone is really listening. Some are even singing along - how the fuck do this many people know the words? 

You want to hate it - you want the set to be something you’re tolerating, something that makes you look forward to the next band coming out. But, despite your efforts, that’s not what happens. Because the band is good. Robin is killer on bass, and Argyle is a formidable drummer, despite his perpetually laid-back persona. And Steve - it’s like he was born to do this.

Aside from having a pretty good voice, and being an excellent guitarist, he’s actually a good frontman. He’s charismatic, knows how to work the crowd, and somehow, he makes the tiny stage of the Fuze Box feel as exciting as Live Aid. 

You want to scream - of course he’s good. You catch yourself moving along to the music every now and then, and immediately stop yourself, hoping nobody sees. At one point, you swear Steve sees you. His eyes land on yours - or, at least, in your direction. You think you imagine it - it’s a big enough crowd, and you’re far enough back that he probably can’t see past the first few rows. That is, until he smirks, in the way that you know he reserves only to taunt you, to challenge you.

Fuck.

*****

You find yourself heading down the hallway after Steve’s set - you’re looking for the bathroom, shouldering through the bodies packed into the narrow passage. Part of it is because your beer has finally gone through you, and more so because you need a minute of peace and quiet, just to stare at yourself in the mirror and talk some sense into yourself. Steve’s band can’t be good - that would be a problem. If you didn’t know who was part of it, they’re the kind of band you would buy records for, keep a spare CD in your car, and even include as part of your radio show. But…it's Steve.

You had purposely never gone to any of his shows - you never listened to any in-studio sessions they did at the station, and God knows you would never ask Steve about his music. What the fuck?

Part of you also wants to smack him - of course he was performing here tonight - he looked you in the eye at the record store today, heard you were coming here tonight, and said nothing. Next time you see him, you decide, you’ll ignore him - you won’t even acknowledge that you saw him perform. If he asks, you’ll tell him you left the show early, long before he came on stage. You won’t give him the satisfaction of thinking you sat through his whole set, let alone enjoyed it.

You can’t exactly remember where the bathroom is - was it all the way at the end of the hallway? None of the doors are really labeled, which tracks for Fuze Box.

You knock on a few doors and jiggle the handles - one is an electrical closet, the other is locked and seemingly empty. You finally reach a door at the end, and give it a gentle knock - nobody responds. You try the knob, and it gives way. After shouldering your way inside, you wish you hadn’t.

Apparently, instead of the bathroom, you’ve managed to find the green room - although, to call the backstage area of the Fuze Box a green room is generous. It’s really a tiny room with a worn out couch, a cracked glass coffee table littered with ashtrays, and lighting so dim that you have to squint to figure out exactly where you are as you slip through the door.

It’s only once you’re inside, when it’s too late, that you realize you’ve walked in on Steve.

His back is turned to you, but he jumps slightly and turns when he hears the door open. He’s wiping his brow with a towel, and he grins when he sees you.

“Hey, sweetheart - wasn’t expecting to see you back here.”

You stand in the doorway awkwardly - why couldn’t the rest of his band be hanging out here with him? That way, you could throw out a blanket ‘you guys were great’ statement. But now it’s just him, staring at you, his face saying why the fuck are you here?

“Oh - sorry - I’m in the wrong room,” you say quickly, your face feeling hot as you start to back away.

“Okay - sure you are,” Steve says sarcastically.

“What does that mean?” you ask, stopping your retreat.

He shrugs. “Don’t know - you just seem to always conveniently stumble into me, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Try to stop me.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you just groan with frustration, taking a few steps towards him.

“Jesus, I - I don’t know if it’s like, a weird sick game to you, or you’re just always trying to piss me off - or if you just can’t help and flirt with everyone -”

“You think I’m flirting with you?” he asks, grinning mischievously.

You stop, folding your arms in indignation.

“No - I mean, kind of, but probably as a joke - I know what you’re up to, Harrington.”

“And what exactly am I up to?”

“This bullshit you keep pulling,” you say, gesturing between you two. “This - like, always sabotaging my shit, and getting in my way - but then like, this stupid nice-guy thing, where you drive me home when I’m drunk and don’t tell anyone, but then like you trick me into watching your stupid band perform -”

He scoffs. “Trick you? Be serious -”

“You knew I’d be here tonight - you knew, and didn’t say anything -”

“Well given your track record, sweetheart, if you had known I’d be playing, I’m sure you would’ve been front row!”

You stop mid-sentence, mouth hanging open as you try to search inwardly for a reply. Your face feels hot all of a sudden.

He’s smirking now, just like he did on stage. As always, he’s too confident, too sarcastic, too Steve. He’s taken away your ability to even come up with a halfway decent retort. It pisses you off.

“I - that’s not -”

Your blood is rushing to your head, roaring in your ears, too enraged to even let you think straight anymore. You’re marching right up to him now, prodding his chest with your finger.

“I don’t like you,” you say. 

“You don’t say?” he drawls, still smiling. Why is he smiling?

“Stop doing that -”

“Doing what?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“Stop distracting me -”

“I distract you?”

You want to kick yourself.

“I - well - only because you’re so -”

“Devilishly handsome?”

“-fucking annoying.”

He cocks his head, like you’ve only mildly piqued his curiosity instead of insulted him.

You sigh. “What?”

“It’s just - you didn’t seem to find me very annoying last weekend when you tried to kiss me.”

A beat. You just stand there, jaw agape as his words hang in the air between you like smoke on a hazy summer’s day.

“That’s not funny,” you manage to say.

“Does it look like I’m laughing?”

You’re suddenly aware of how close you are to him - the next band has started outside, a distant din that should be distracting. But all you can focus on is Steve - the beads of sweat on his forehead, the way you’re close enough to smell that he had just had a cigarette.

“I didn’t -”

“Sweetheart - right before you puked your guts up in my bathroom, you tried to stick your tongue down my throat. Don’t worry - I didn’t let you. I really thought you would’ve remembered, until I saw you in the record store - then I realized you didn’t remember jack shit.”

You feel like you’re making this up. He’s just saying this to get under your skin - he must be. It’s the only explanation. Because you’d never - 

“You’re lying.”

But he’s just staring at you, and you’re starting to get the sickening suspicion that this isn’t a joke.

“You’re lying,” you repeat, though it sounds more like a question this time.

He’s taking another step towards you, shaking his head.

“You know what they say, sweetheart - in vino vesco, or whatever. You know - how people say and do what they’re really thinking when they’re drunk -”

“Veritas.”

He stops, furrowing his brow.

“I - what?”

You can’t help yourself - you just can’t.

“The phrase is in vino veritas - it means truth. I think vesco means food or something, you’re missing the whole  -”

“Shut up,” he says. “You’re always such a -”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you’re kissing him. You don’t mean to do it, you swear - but he had gotten so close, the heat radiating off of him too much to ignore. And, he was really pissing you off - you didn’t need to hear another word out of his mouth.

You fist your hands in his t-shirt, your lips on his, messy and desperate, like you’re trying to prove a point. And he’s kissing you back.

Steve kisses the same way he argues - he’s aggressive, his hands coming up to grab your face and pull you closer. He tastes like cigarettes and cheap beer, his aura hot and desperate as it envelops you. 

The band plays out in the venue, the audience cheering and singing along - but, all you can hear is Steve’s labored breath against your lips, your own heart thudding in your chest.

The kiss was all teeth and tongue, another argument you were both desperate to win. But, right now, you’re losing. Because he’s guiding your body, and you’re responding, stepping backwards until your back is hitting the cinderblock wall.

No words are spoken, just breathy moans and the sounds of your lips moving in unison. It’s not remotely romantic - it feels more like fuck you, I’m trying so hard to hate you, why can’t you let me -

One of his hands has traveled down to your waist, gripping it firmly enough to tell you that he wanted more. You feel his hand start to move, slipping under the hem of your shirt and gently brushing the warm skin of your lower back. His hands are calloused, rough against the softness of your skin. You let him start to explore, unable to stop yourself from quietly moaning against his lips. 

You know you should stop - but you can’t. It’s addicting, the way he’s still fighting with you as his tongue enters your mouth. Is this really happening? Maybe this could’ve gone on for hours. That is, until -

The knock on the door makes you both jump, pulling apart as quickly as you had crashed together. Steve is staring at you, breathing heavily, his pupils blown and lips a bit swollen. You imagine you look similarly. He takes a step back, separately himself from where you’re still frozen against the wall.

“Yeah?” Steve calls, voice rougher than before.

“Are you decent?” a voice asks from the other side of the door, barely audible over the sound of the band currently on stage.

Steve looks like he’s fighting laughter, but he just shakes his head, back facing the doorway.

“Nope - you’re good,” he says, his eyes meeting yours again.

He doesn’t need to say it - the look he’s shooting your way is enough.

Not a word.

Robin enters, grinning.

“Hey, we were just going to - oh, hi.”

She’s spotted you, and you just know she has questions.

“Hey, Robin,” you say quietly. “I, uh - I was looking for the bathroom. Ended up in here - I was just telling Steve how much I liked your set.”

Robin beams. “Thanks! It’s fun to see that you came out - haven’t seen you at a gig in a while!”

You nod. “Oh, yeah - I’ve been trying to get myself out there more -”

Steve scoffs, and you want to slap him. If Robin notices, she doesn’t say anything.

“- but, um - I should go.”

Robin nods. 

“Yeah - I was just coming to find Steve, we’re all going to head to WT’s for a drink - uh, do you want to come?”

She’s probably just being polite. But, you shake your head vigorously.

“No, I’m good - sounds like it’s a band thing. I should get going anyway - I’ll catch the end of this set,” you say, gesturing towards the sound of the band on stage echoing from down the hall. You still haven’t made eye contact with Steve, not since Robin entered the room. So, you just give her a curt nod, and do everything in your power to head out the door without looking like you’re bolting.  You’re screwed.

author's note: thanks for your patience y'all! I'm going away to Ireland on a work trip for about 3 weeks starting tomorrow, so I'm hoping to do some writing while I'm there, but no promises! As always, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

[notiddygothgf]

12. Ankle Biter

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ I think we both know what you want. Be a good girl and you might get it. You want me? ❞ ❝ Yes, please. ❞

★ c.w.: smut, denji. (NOT BETA'd. olivia will be my beta-er.) (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: IM BACK FROM THE DEADDDDDD!!! hi  my pookies. so. depression and uni have been tag teaming me. woman in stem or whatever. your comments have been keeping me going!!! When you're reading this, I'll have a few chaps stored up so i don't have hiatuses like this anymore teehee. I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THIS!! its a two parter, so chapter two will be coming soon!!! okay!! comment!!! vote!!! love you all!!!! muah!!!! xxx

★ w.c: .6.8k

shameless ; chapter index

YOU TOLD YOUR HUSBAND you had a mission today. You told him you would be out all day – and probably into the night – with division four, which wasn’t totally a lie. In fact, it wasn’t even a stretch of the truth by much at all. You had spent the earlier half of your day making rounds in Tokyo with division four, ultimately finding that the perpetrator of a series of mysterious sounds coming from the downtown area was a tiny little cheese devil, which was disposed of in a matter of minutes.

What had been a lie, however, was that you would be out all night with the entirety of division four. Realistically, it was only one member.

“I’m hopping in the bath,” Aki sighed. He slipped his blood-soaked shirt (and coat) into a black trash bag. He kicked off his Converses, too. In the other room, he had left the tap on so that the tub could fill with warm water.

You followed him to the bedroom door, which you had left cracked open by accident a few minutes earlier when you and him had stumbled home. In the living room, Aki’s roommates ran around barefoot, chasing after one another for god knows what reason.

Even with his back turned – his toned, muscly back that rippled when he moved – he towered over you. Stepping behind him, you asked, “Can I come with you?”

He turned around then, face dusted with that pink tint you had grown to love. Like he – after all of the unspeakable things he had done to you – was embarrassed at the prospect of you wanting to bathe with him. Always the gentleman.

“The gremlins are home,” He mused, much more quietly than he had been speaking only a few moments earlier. His eyes, as moody and blue as ever, darkened as he added, “You sure you wanna start something so early in the evening?”

You retorted, “I never said I’d be getting in with you ,” like you hadn’t originally planned on doing exactly that.

“You’re just gonna sit and watch me, then?” He asked slowly, brow arched a little higher.

Shit. You couldn’t bullshit your way out of this.

“Okay, well, then, maybe I will get in,” You conceded, arms crossed – only because the way he was looking at you made you giddy and… a little nervous, to be frank. “But that doesn’t mean I’m starting anything. Not after the stunt you pulled earlier.”

The stunt in question? Aki had snapped at you for putting yourself in a compromising position on the mission – one that easily could have resulted in your demise, of course, but that was irrelevant, because all that mattered was that he had raised his voice at you to say, “ Stop being a dumbass. You almost died .”

You were the one who pulled a stunt, if anything. Still, you loved getting him riled up.

When he only peered down at you with a humored little grin, like he didn’t believe a word you had said, you added, “I’m just gonna be there to hang out with you.”

“Mmh,” He hummed after a brief silence, “Right.”

He knew you were playing hard to get. It wasn’t working, either. Not even a little bit.

Aki didn’t say another word as he led the way to the bathroom, his shirtless figure moving with that same quiet grace you’d come to know so well. You followed him, your heart doing somersaults in your chest, even though you tried to hide it beneath a casual air. When he reached for the robe hanging on the counter, he tossed it your way with an easy flick of his wrist, and you caught it.

The bathroom was warm already when you arrived, closing the door behind you and Aki and locking it with a quiet click. Aki slipped out of his pants without a word while your back was turned, busying yourself with the robe in your hands, unsure why you were suddenly so shy about it. 

You slipped your button-down off. Then your belt. Your pants came last – followed by your socks. Once you were in your undergarments, you stripped yourself bare – praying he didn’t see you in such an intimate position, like he hadn’t seen all you had to offer already.

You were trying to seem indifferent, but the soft sounds of his clothes hitting the floor did something to your composure. When you finally gathered the courage to turn back around, he had already sunk into the water, his body disappearing beneath the steaming surface.

Damn it. You missed it.

Now, Aki leaned back against the tub, his arms draped casually over the edges, and he was watching you with that half-lidded gaze that never failed to make your nerves fray at the edges. His hair, dampened slightly from the steam, clung to his forehead, and the way his eyes raked over you sent a shiver skittering down your spine. You stood frozen for a beat too long, feeling the intensity of his stare searing into you. He made no attempt to hide it.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you muttered, barely managing to sound anything but meek as you crossed your arms over your breasts.

“Like what?” he asked, his voice low and calm, though the smoldering gaze he cast your way didn’t falter. He didn’t even try to conceal the hunger in his eyes.

You huffed, rolling your eyes in a half-hearted attempt to mask the effect he had on you. You weren’t used to this kind of intimacy — not with him staring at you like that, all relaxed and self-assured in the steaming water. Somehow, this was more vulnerable than being naked – getting ready to bathe with him.

With a slight shake of your head, you shrugged off your clothes and stepped into the tub, sitting with your back pressed against his chest. His strong arms bracketed your sides, and you felt the warmth of him radiating through the water.

For a moment, everything felt quiet, like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you. Aki’s fingers reached for a washcloth, his movements slow and deliberate as he wrung it out over his head, dark hair dripping with water. Then, he did the same for you, squeezing the warm droplets over your back, and you couldn’t help the way your body relaxed into him.

“Is the water okay?” He spoke – voice so low it was almost a whisper. “Not too hot?”

You were going to pass out.

“It’s fine,” You answered.

He hummed low in response, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back. You hesitated for a moment before speaking again, voice a bit more quiet, but teasing. 

"Your voice... It's super hot. Have I ever told you that?"

Aki paused, the water dripping from the washcloth over your skin like tiny, warm raindrops. He let out a low chuckle, and you could feel the way his chest rumbled against your spine. 

"You think so?" he asked, his lips curving into a grin you didn’t even need to see. "Is that why you get all flustered when I boss you around on the clock?"

Heat flooded your face as you laughed, turning away from him a little. "I do not!" You tried to defend yourself, but the way your voice cracked betrayed you.

You absolutely did. Made you so hot beneath the collar that it wasn’t even funny .

"Yeah?" He leaned in, his lips ghosting over the back of your neck, sending a chill down your body despite the heat of the bath. His voice dropped lower, teasing as he mocked you. " Yes, Sir, " he purred, the tone rich and velvety. "Sounds so goddamn sexy when you say it. Drives me fucking crazy."

You couldn’t help the embarrassed laugh that bubbled up in response, biting your lip as you hid your face with your hand. "Stop," you groaned, turning your head away, the flush on your cheeks deepening. But he didn’t stop—he could feel your embarrassment, and that only seemed to encourage him.

"You’re not saying anything now," Aki teased, his hand never pausing in its slow, comforting rhythm along your back. You tried to gather your thoughts, but it was impossible with the way your pulse quickened whenever he even touched you. "You’re cute when you’re flustered." 

You were going to combust. Actually.

His hand slid up from your shoulder, fingers lingering against your skin as they traced the line of your neck. You shivered, feeling the intensity of his touch, before his hand cupped the back of your head, gently tilting it back. Your breath hitched as your eyes met his, the steam swirling between you.

His lips brushed against yours, soft but deliberate, like a question answered in the quietest of moments. A rush of heat flooded through you, your pulse syncing with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The kiss deepened, slow and sweet, before he pulled back, just enough to speak.

"Thought you said you weren’t starting anything, hmm? " he murmured against your lips, his thumb tracing your jawline. And in that moment, the world felt small again—just the two of you, wrapped in warmth, as if nothing else existed.

“I wasn’t,” You tried to protest, but whatever reply you had planned died on your lips the moment he pulled you in – by your jaw – for another kiss. It was soft at first, careful — but it didn’t stay that way for long. Heat flooded between you as the kiss deepened, his wet hand gliding down your chest, teasing touches igniting your skin with a slow burn.

"Bullshit. You love to get me riled up," His voice, low and husky, made your stomach flip as he murmured, “So I can give you what you want, right? Because you know I’m the only one who can.”

You did. You really, really did. And he was right.

Your breath caught, and your mind scrambled for some witty retort, but all you could manage was a shaky, "What do I want, then, if you know so much?”

One of these days, you would learn to keep your bratty mouth shut. That day was not today.

His fingers were gentle yet deliberate as they ghosted over your stomach – up, and then down, stopping just above the water’s surface. His lips hovered near your ear, "Watch the attitude. I’ll give it to you if you ask nicely.”

And, as his fingertips dipped beneath the surface, slipping down over your belly button and ghosting over the skin of your navel, you figured you would do whatever he asked if it meant he would go a little lower.

“I think we both know what you want,” He hummed. “Be a good girl, and you might get it. You want me?”

You broke without so much as a second of hesitation, “Yes, please .”

“Where, baby?” He breathed, voice deep and hot against your neck, your ear – while his fingers trailed a little lower, just barely caressing the place where he knew you needed him. “Here?” His other hand left your chin to slide down your side, coming up around your ribs to cup your breast ever-so-gently, “ Here?” 

“Yes– God, both,” You hissed quietly. When his hand slipped a little lower, towards the apex of your heat, you leaned into him.

“With those two sitting outside?” He added, continuing to tease you, like he was reveling in the feeling of drawing you closer to the edge of your patience. “We’d have to make it quick. They’ll start banging on the door any minute, now.”

You were going to say something, suggest that maybe the two of you should take a rain check on the bath, but the moment his fingers parted your lips and pressed gently on your clit, what came out was a desperate whisper of, “I’ll be quiet.”

“Good girl,” He breathed. Slowly, painfully slowly – he began rolling his finger over you in circles, applying a pressure so gentle it made your head spin. 

Meanwhile, the hand groping your breast began to massage it. The air of the bathroom grew suddenly cold, and maybe it was the warmth of the water, or of his kisses down your neck, but you felt your nipples form stiffened little peaks. A wonton shiver ripped itself from your core.

Clearly, he was just as riled up as you were – something that was evidently pressing up against your ass. You shifted your hips back a little further so that he could get a little friction – take the edge off a bit.

His touch was like a lighter, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever his fingers traveled, sending goosebumps up and down your body. And, for a few minutes, he sat there, rolling his fingers over that little bundle of pleasure that had you bucking your hips up – biting your lip so hard to prevent a sound from escaping that you drew blood.

When his hand slipped further up the slope of your chest, fingers pinching your nipple, you mewled, arching your back. 

“So sensitive today,” He said. You didn’t have to look to know he was grinning. Every time his calloused, wet thumb slipped over your nipple, you rolled your hips. “You want more?”

You nodded. Fuck, yes. 

And, thankfully, this time, he didn’t keep you waiting. His fingers dipped a little further into you, tracing over your needy pussy like he had all the time in the world. It felt strange, given the water between his fingertips and your body, but not at all unpleasant.

Then, when you least expected it, he breached your entrance with one finger, eliciting a gasp from you.

He hushed you, taunting you as he murmured into the skin of your neck, “You’re gonna give us away. Gotta be quiet for me, baby. I know you can.”

When the other finger followed suit, you weren’t all too sure. 

He propped his head up on your shoulder, glancing over at you. His eyes were dark, half-lidded, misty with desire. “Haven’t even started with you, yet,” He tutted. “My pretty mama… so sensitive. Thought you were mad at me, huh ?”

You said nothing – out of embarrassment, of course, but the way your whole body arched into his touch gave you away. Aki grinned, pulling his fingers out of you, then putting them back in. 

You found yourself melting into him entirely. Desperate for some form of friction, you began to grind down on him; his hand, his lap. 

“ Mmmh, ” you purred. His voice alone was enough to have you inching a little closer to your peak – already, like you were a pent-up highschooler and not an adult. You slurred, “Keep talkin’”

“Yeah?” He pressed more kisses to the inside of your neck. “You’re gonna take it like a good fuckin’ girl, aren’t you? For me?” His breath was hot and ragged, fanning against your skin with a purpose. He knew better than to suck hard enough to leave a mark. “Always so fuckin’ good for me.”

He leaned forward to capture your lips. You didn’t care that your head was craned at an awkward angle. You didn’t care.

You gasped when his digits curled up with a shocking suddenness. It was muffled, nothing more than a quiet cry silenced by the devilish onslaught of his lips dancing with yours like making a mess out of you was his job – and then you felt the pressure of his hand against your throat. That, combined with the feeling of his fingers curling inside of you, brushing against your tender walls… you were reduced to a babbling mess in a matter of seconds.

No one knew your body better than he did.

“Take it, baby,” He nestled his head into the crook of your neck, on the other side. His words, shadowed by his desire, spurred you on. His fingers picked up the pace. “Just like that.”

You shuddered, eyes threatening to roll back, feeling the slow pull and drag of them against your insides. When he scissored his fingers inside, you could feel yourself being stretched open. It felt so full, so good, your mouth hung open before you could even control it.

“ Aki ,” You whimpered weakly.

The way his fingers were hooked inside of you, fuck, they kept pushing at just the right spot. It felt like he was reaching into you and untying the strings of your orgasm; slowly, with every curl nudging you a little bit closer.

You glanced down at his arms. His big, strong, toned arms, his biceps, fuck. You could see the deep muscles of his forearm ripple and tense as he fucked you open with his fingers – a little quicker now. Your nails bit deep into the skin on his thighs, but he didn’t seem to care.

He seemed to be more focused on making you cum all over his fingers.

“You’re getting loud,” He spoke into your ear, nibbling just below the lobe soon thereafter. “What should we do about that?” The pace of his fingers quickened. “Feel good?”

“F–uck off,” You gasped out. “ Shit .”

He dove back into another searing kiss, body fitting against yours like two puzzle pieces finally reunited. You could feel him pressed up against you, his warmth, his hardness, and it sent a jolt of electricity through your entire body.

His lips spoke the language of his love, breathing his longing into your body. Your tongues were locked in a hungry, sensuous tango.

You whispered weakly, “Feels so good,” voice quivering with desire as his hand slipped away from your chest – he moved to cover your mouth with it, popping three digits deep into your mouth to shut you up.

“Want everyone to hear you?” He licked his lips. “Stay quiet, and I’ll give you what you want,”  A pause, then he crossed his fingers, twisting them deeper into you in a way that had your back arching away from him, had your legs quaking, 

“ Mn-ghh ,” You mewled around his fingers, feeling so damn good now that he was finally in you again. His fingers were so long, so big, the perfect size for you. No one could touch you like he could. You knew that.

You wrapped your tongue around the digits, sucking on them to give you something to do while you held in the shrieks of pleasure you knew would give you and Aki away to his roommates.

Pressing another messy kiss to your neck, he muttered, “ That’s my girl . You got it.”

You whimpered weakly in response. You were close enough already, and his voice was only nudging you closer and closer.

Somehow, despite the odds, the coil in your gut was drawing tighter and tighter. He was reaching deep inside of you and undoing you from the inside out like the lace strands of a tightly wound corset. The brutal pace of his long, fingers made your fucking brain go blank. You could do nothing but writhe and squeal for him.

He curved his fingers up sharply at just the right angle, thrusting his hand up and down and – before you knew what was happening, that warmth in your belly pooled up again. 

“You’re close already, aren’t you?” He grinned, voice a low murmur. “So fuckin’ sensitive. Don’t worry, I got you. I’ll talk you through it. I’m right here.”

When you whined quietly, eyelids fluttering shut, his fingers pressed deeper into you, massaging that spongy place deep inside of you that had you shaking. You gasped, clawing at his thighs.

“I know, I know,” He reassured you, Saccharine words dripping with venom. “ Wanna make you cum. You can do it f’me, yeah? I know you can. ”

For him.

“I’ll take care of you,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck, rutting up against you. “ Make you feel so good .”

You gasped, the sound muffled by his fingers. Your body, however, gave a different signal. Your legs spasmed once more. His fingers were deep inside of you from both angles – three fingers knuckle deep in your pussy, three fingers pressing deep enough into your mouth to make you gag on them.

“So fucking beautiful,” Aki panted against your neck. “You’re doing so good for me.”

You could feel your guts clenching around his finger like you were trying to push him out. The sheer power this man had over you was near absurd. 

“I got you, baby,” He panted, peering over at you with such feverish hunger that it made your legs shake. “You know I’ll always make you feel good, right?”

That much was true. You knew that he knew your body well – better than anyone else ever had or ever could.

Then, you moaned – it slipped out. Truly, you had never intended to let it slip. Yet, still, when his fingers curled up against a particularly sensitive spot with all of the ease of a harpist plucking at the strings of your core, your lips spilled a sinful, long, drawn-out moan, as if to say, Don’t stop, I’m close . 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” His smirk grew in size with a satisfied hum, “You gonna cum for me?”

Instantaneously, somehow, his fingers pressed the right spot – just the right amount of pressure – then it snapped. The coil of your release snapped with all of the power of a freight train, your orgasm slamming into you in a way that had your back arching up off of him. The ebb-and-flow of the pleasure made your mind run wild with desire – your hips rode it out like you were surfing waves..

You gasped, biting down on his fingers. Finally coming down from your high, you laid your head back.

Fuck me. I can’t believe I just did that. This was a new low for you – in the bathtub? While his roommates were outside doing god knows what?

He slid his fingers out of you slowly, savoring the way you clenched around them one last time before pulling out. He sucked the slick of your arousal off of his fingers. 

“Hey, there. Welcome back.” He hummed, sucking gently on your neck, too gentle to leave a mark. The two of you panted, desperate to catch your breath. You were too weak to say anything as he turned your head to the side, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips. 

You whimpered weakly in response. Aki chuckled, wrapping his arms around your trembling body and bringing you in for a hug. 

“You okay, baby?” He hummed, tucking your hair away behind your ear.

This was too intimate. All of this was too intimate. It made you wonder what a life with him really would entail. 

As if sensing your thoughts, Aki leaned in, his movements slow and careful, like he was afraid of shattering the fragile moment between you. His lips met yours in a soft kiss, tender and undemanding, the warmth of his mouth mingling with the steam from the bath. It was brief, but enough to send a shiver through you, a quiet promise hidden in the way his lips lingered before pulling away.

He hummed softly, the sound reverberating through the humid air as his fingers found their way to your hair, massaging the water into your scalp with slow, rhythmic movements. You closed your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, the stress melting from your body as he worked.

Without thinking, you shifted, moving to sit on his lap, your hands reaching for his shoulders, intending to initiate the next step. But before you could, his hand caught your wrist, stopping you gently but firmly.

“No, not in here,” Aki murmured.

You frowned, a playful pout forming on your lips. "Why not? You’re still..." Your voice trailed off, your eyes drifting over his body, but before you could say anything more, his quiet laughter interrupted your thoughts.

“Let’s finish washing up first, okay?” he smiled, brushing his thumb over your wrist, his gaze warm but teasing as he held you at arm’s length. There was something so endearing about the way he was in control, yet still patient with you.

You sighed, the heat still simmering in your veins, but nodded nonetheless, settling back into the warmth of the bath as his hand resumed its soothing motions, reminding you once again that with Aki, there was always time.

There was always time.

After finishing up in the bath – taking about 30 more minutes just to shampoo, condition, and wash up, you and Aki helped you into your robe (which was his robe, but he was letting you use it) and tied a towel around his own waist. Even though you protested, saying you could limp back just fine, Aki insisted on carrying you back to his room.

The fabric of Aki’s robe was soft and plush against your damp skin. Thankfully, the living room was empty. It sounded like both Power and Denji had retreated to their rooms for the evening (but you could never be too sure).

Still, at the very least, you didn’t think anyone could see Aki walking back to his room, carrying you like a bride – hair dripping wet, completely bare beneath the oversized robe he had given you. Neither Denji nor Power could see the way your face flushed when you passed their rooms – doing your best to appear as if their Captain hadn’t just been knuckle-deep in your pussy.

Once you were in his room, Aki set you down on the bed. “Pajama shirts are in the top right drawer on the dresser. Sweaters are in the closet. You can wear my boxers for shorts, if you want. They’re top left in the dresser. I’m a towel short, so I’ll be right back.

You nodded. He pressed a chaste kiss to the top of your head – leaning down to do so – and then left the room. You glanced around, taking a moment to soak in your surroundings. Aki’s room was so him , something so different from the cold apartment you knew back home with your husband. The walls of his bedroom were a soft, deep blue. All of his furniture matched – black. On his dresser, there wasn’t much more than a few small pictures and loose belongings he’d taken out of his pockets earlier.

Curiously, you rose to your feet and walked over, ghosting your hand over the smooth, finished surface of his dresser. There, like little mosaics of his life, the pictures told a story. A photo of him and Himeno on the far left – it looked like they were at some sort of event with a photobooth. She was grinning ear-to-ear, arm thrown around Aki’s shoulder, face a little flushed with what you assumed was liquor. Aki, in contrast, was pouting, as if the very idea of posing for silly little pictures pissed him off – he was younger, sure, and his hair was shorter, eyes a little brighter, but it was definitely him.

I still have to call her back and tell her what happened, You remembered.

The next photo was with Denji and Power. It was a picture of them at a bowling alley – Aki’s shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he was wearing that Poker-Face expression you knew so well. Denji was stuffing his face with a hot dog, and Power was grinning with her arms crossed. 

The one after that made you stop in your tracks. It was a family portrait – or it looked like one, anyway. Aki was on the bottom left, wearing that miserable little pout of his. Behind him, a man and woman with black hair and soft features stood, smiling. Another boy was right next to him. He looked almost exactly like Aki, save for the shorter hair and youthful smile. 

He really had been serious his whole life. Furthermore, after glancing one more time at the woman you assumed was his mother, you could tell where he got his good looks from. She was beautiful. It was an honest shame that he lost both of his parents so young.

The door clicked, a reminder that looking through people’s personal affects was weird, and you skipped over to the closet. Opening the door, you quickly snagged a big gray hoodie. 

In tandem, the door to Aki’s bedroom opened. He came in looking like something straight out of a wet dream – towel tied loosely around his waist, his skin glistening with droplets of water that caught the dim light of his bedroom.

Your breath hitched as you caught sight of Aki’s bare chest, the defined muscles of his torso flexing slightly as he moved. Your eyes roamed up and down his body, lingering on the lines of his abdomen, the narrow curve of his hips, the way the towel clung to him just enough to drive you crazy.

Your mouth went dry, and you had to swallow hard to keep yourself from doing something stupid like staring too obviously or letting out the low groan building in your chest. It was impossible to look away, though — Your brain short-circuited before you could fucking think of anything else.

For a moment, neither of you said anything.

You blinked, trying to say something, but all you could think was: Fuck me. A ll you could think about was the man in front of you, who looked as if he had been cut from stone, shaped carefully by the hands of a Greek sculptor.

You were all too aware of the way Aki’s chest rose and fell with each breath, the droplets of water still clinging to his skin, the tantalizing glimpse of skin just above where the towel ended – the way the moisture trickled down his pecs and abs and his biceps , and–

“You want a picture?” He teased you. Then, clearly comfortable around you, he turned around and pulled a T-shirt, Sweatpants, and a pair of boxers out of the dresser. 

You wanted to add something, perhaps a witty comeback, but you couldn’t think one up. Not when he reached down and untied the towel, letting it fall to the ground with a quiet ‘floop’, and certainly not when he pulled a pair of black boxers up to his hips, wiggling from side to side until it hugged his ass perfectly .

Any moment now, you were going to start drooling like a fucking dog.

“You have a brother?” You asked.

He tensed – evident in the way his shoulders bristled at the mention of it. “Had a brother,” He corrected with a sigh that made you regret bringing it up. “Taiyo. He died with my parents.”

You felt your own shoulders drop. Gnawing on your lower lip, you commented, “I’m sorry. You look like your mom, though. You’ve got her eyes.”

He stilled, the tension draining from his posture, and when he turned to look at you, sweats halfway up his long legs, his face softened too. “Thank you,” he murmured, and the way his eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled made your heart flip.

He tugged his shirt on next, pulling it down over his lean frame, and then moved to sit on the edge of the bed, towel in hand. You watched, momentarily mesmerized, as he rubbed the towel through his damp hair, still half-distracted by the quiet ache in his voice from before.

Finally, you slipped out of your robe and pulled Aki’s sweater on. You didn’t want to let the moment linger too long, not when the air still felt heavy with what he’d shared. 

You reached over and flicked on the radio on the nightstand, the dial clicking softly. The familiar melody of an old song spilled into the room, crackling in from a nearby station. An old 70’s song drifted through the speakers, setting a strange kind of peace over the space.

‘I go crazy, 

When I look in your eyes, I still go crazy. 

No, my heart just can’t hide that old feelin’ inside. 

Way deep down inside. 

Oh, baby, you know when I look in your eyes, I go crazy.’ 

Flopping back into the bed with a tired sigh, Aki glanced at you sideways, a small, amused smile playing on his lips as the song played on. He looked like the fatigue from the day he had finally caught up to him. You shifted closer, laying down on your side next to him. 

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, your noses nearly brushing. His eyes met yours, warm, soft blue, like pools of desire. There was a tenderness in the way he looked at you now that made you melt. Something unspoken, but not entirely unfamiliar.

‘I go crazy when I look in your eyes, 

I still go crazy. That old flame comes alive, 

It starts burning inside, way deep down inside, 

Oh, baby, you know when I look in your eyes…’ 

For a moment, you didn’t need to speak. The music did all the talking, the lyrics wrapping around you both like a cocoon of nostalgia. But eventually, he broke the silence, his voice barely above a murmur. “You know… you didn’t have to say that about me. About my mom.”

‘I go crazy…’ 

You blinked, confused for a second. “I saw the picture on your nightstand. It’s true. Did I upset you?”

He let out a quiet laugh, his breath brushing against your cheek. “No, not that, but... it’s just strange, is all. ‘M not used to having someone notice the little details about me.”

“I notice a lot about you,” you admitted without thinking, the words slipping out, vulnerable but unguarded.

His eyes softened even more, something unreadable flickering behind them. “I know.”

There was a beat of silence, the intimacy thickening the air between you. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his fingertips lingering just a little longer than necessary.

“I love you,” he confessed, voice hushed, as though the vulnerability of the statement might break if he said it too loudly.

Your heart skipped at his words. You wanted to tell him that he did the same for you, that you’d been carrying around your own lonely weight for so long, but it was hard to find the words when his eyes were that close, and his hand was still on your face, warm and careful. Instead, you closed the space between you, pressing your forehead to his, feeling the soft hitch of his breath against your lips.

“I love you more,” you whispered, the words a promise.

His eyes searched yours, a lingering intensity beneath the softness, as though he was still making sure this moment was real. The space between you felt like it was shrinking with every breath, and then, finally, he leaned in. It was slow, almost hesitant at first, like he was giving you the chance to pull away, to stop it—but you didn’t want to stop it. His lips brushed yours, feather-light, barely there. The gentleness of it sent a shiver down your spine, making your breath hitch.

You felt your whole body relax into him, the world fading around you as the kiss deepened. His lips were warm and soft, moving over yours with such tenderness that it felt like he was trying to savor every second. He kissed you like you were something precious—like he had all the time in the world and wanted to make sure you knew exactly how much this moment meant to him. 

It was the same thing as before – the same lips you had felt a hundred times before, passionate and gentle.

The warmth of his hand cupped your cheek, thumb grazing along the line of your jaw as he tilted your face slightly, angling the kiss deeper. You responded, leaning into him, letting yourself sink into the kiss, into him. It was slow, unhurried, but there was a steady pull between you, a quiet need that grew with every second your lips stayed locked together.

Your hands, almost of their own accord, slid up his chest, fingers tracing the lines of muscle beneath his shirt. You curled your fingers into the fabric, tugging him closer, and he obliged, his body pressing into yours as he shifted. His lips parted slightly, and when your tongues brushed, the kiss grew hotter, more urgent. A soft sigh escaped you, and he swallowed it, his own breath hitching in response.

You felt him smile against your mouth for just a moment before the kiss became more heated. He shifted again, rolling on top of you, his weight settling over you in a way that made your heart race. The heat between you intensified, the kiss turning hungry, both of you chasing the feeling, lost in the closeness. His hands wandered, sliding down to your waist, fingers digging in slightly as if he needed to ground himself, to keep from getting completely lost in you.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, fist tangled in his damp hair, pulling him down even closer as you deepened the kiss, your lips moving together with a heat that sent electricity coursing through your veins. Every brush of his lips, every little movement, felt like it was setting something inside you alight. His mouth, his touch, the sound of his breath mixing with yours—it was all you could think about.

But then, just as the kiss reached a fever pitch, the door creaked open.

“When’s dinner gonna be rea— Oh, shit,” Denji’s voice pierced through the haze of your kiss, making your entire body jolt in surprise. He paused, voice lazy but amused. “Didn’t know you guys were getting freaky in here.”

Aki groaned, like shit like this was a frequent occurrence in this household, and threw the blanket over you to shield you from his roommate’s prying gaze. “What happened to knocking? ”

“Does Himeno know about you guys?” He asked. “It seemed like she did toda–”

“Denji,” Aki gritted out, rolling onto his butt and pointing at the door. “ Out. ”

“Fine,” Denji sighed, not moving from his spot, “If you’re gonna bang, do it quietly this time.”

“Do you want to starve?” He retorted.

“You’ll starve too, asshole,” Denji popped his hip out. “Some of us are injured. ”

Aki hissed, “You’re gonna have much worse than a busted leg if you don’t get out of my room.”

They’re like children, these two, you thought, but chose not to voice it.

“Alright, damn , sorry,” He conceded. “Can you make curry? Please?”

Aki’s gaze flickered from you to Denji, clearly weighing his options. The moment was already ruined, and you could see the gears turning in his head. He let out a low sigh, rubbing the back of his neck before meeting Denji’s gaze with a dry expression.

“Will you piss off if I do?” Aki asked, deadpan, his voice tinged with exasperation.

Denji shrugged, grinning lazily as he leaned against the doorframe. “I can try.”

Aki stared at Denji for a moment, as if he was weighing whether it was even worth the trouble. With a sigh, he pushed himself up from the bed, glancing at you briefly before heading for the door. As he slipped off the bed, he leaned down just enough for his voice to reach your ears, low and steady.

“ This isn’t over, ” he murmured, his eyes flicking to your lips for a beat before he turned and walked out, leaving you sitting there with your heart racing.

As soon as Aki was gone, Denji gave you his usual lazy grin, completely oblivious to the tension that still hung in the air. “Hi, by the way,” he quipped, wiggling his fingers in a half-hearted wave before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

You sighed, cheeks still warm, but a small smile crept onto your face. Typical Denji.

After taking a second to steady yourself, you got up and followed Aki down the hall. When you reached the kitchen, he was already there, pulling two cans of beer from the fridge. He cracked them open with practiced ease, the soft hiss of carbonation filling the quiet space.

Without a word, he handed you one, his earlier promise still lingering in the air between you, the cold bottle brushing your fingers. “Here,” he said, his voice a little softer now that it was just the two of you again.

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking a sip. The cold liquid slid down your throat, a welcome contrast to the heat still lingering in your body from earlier.

Aki leaned against the counter, his shoulders relaxing as he took a swig of his own beer. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there beside you, the two of you wrapped in a comfortable silence. The tension from the bedroom had faded, replaced by the easy calm that always seemed to settle in when it was just the two of you, no interruptions.

After a moment, he glanced over at you, his lips twitching into a small smile. “I don’t know who he thinks he is,” he said, a little amused. “ Hi, by the way ,” Then, “Fuckin’ ankle biter.”

You raised an eyebrow, taking another sip. “What? You mad he interrupted us?”

“Maybe.” He deadpanned, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Is curry fine with you?”

“Sounds perfect.” You smiled.

A/N: [pornhub lady voice] If you liked chapter 12... you'll LOVE chapter 13....... you know i hate to blue ball yall. thats why i wont!! stay tuned!!!! again, comment and talk to me, wya, i missed yall. how r u? howd u like the chapter??? what do u wanna see in the story?????? tell me everything omg. also HAPPY HALLOWEEN BITCHZZZZZZ !!! i'm gonna get wasted as little bo peep. wish me luck -- if my man lays it down who knows i might be inspired to write a smutty chapter about it. (stay tuned) seriously though take care yall!! i'm so glad to be back!!! kisses and hugs xx

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

[autumnmobile12]

I've seen more than a few posts by now asking why Horikoshi doesn't just kill Dabi off by now, and frankly I agree with that question. Let's be honest, killing him would be a mercy at this point and in spite of everything he's done, I don't thinking another prolonged coma with sporadic moments of consciousness is a punishment that fits the crime. He killed 30+ people, caused mass destruction, and tried to overturn an entire society.

Giving some crossover insight, Light Yagami probably killed millions with the Death Note, and I don't think even he would deserve the fate Dabi got. His poetic justice was he was an arrogant psychopath who died a pathetic death in a warehouse. The vampires of Castlevania Netflix have killed and tortured millions of people over the centuries they've been alive and out of all of them, I think only Erzsébet Báthory might deserve that fate, and that's only because she's ascended to goddess status and may be unkillable at this point and eternal imprisonment might be the only option.

So why doesn't Horikoshi kill Dabi off already?

Well....Horikoshi does have a problem with killing off characters unless its for shock value. There's no reason Nighteye, Magne, or Midnight had to die other than shock value. Most other characters that are killed off are barely in the series long enough to consider them a noteworthy death.

You could argue that Magne's death was to show that Overhaul was a new villain that meant business, but given the fact Overhaul doesn't kill or maim any other character the same way unless it's one of his nameless henchmen, his power doesn't prove to be that much of a threat to the main cast.

When Midnight reacted to Majestic's death, I legitimately asked, "Who?"

Endeavor confronts Dabi about killing Snatch and even Dabi asks, "Who?" (Also, why? Did Endeavor even know Snatch? Why bring that up?)

Why did Star have to die? To showcase how strong an opponent AFO/Shigaraki was? Uh, we already knew that...? To show why no other nations were getting involved in the fighting in Japan? A simple doomsday message from multiple nations that says, 'You're on your own,' would have sufficed. AFO could have been blackmailing world leaders into staying out of it. There could have been an international conspiracy of corrupt leaders who were in on it. They could have been having the same issue with mass prison breaks and couldn't help out. There was no need to invent a whole new character for any of that, so her death was a waste.

Arguably, Twice is the only character I can think of at the moment whose death was plot relevant. Realistically, how else was that fight going to go down? He and Hawks spend the entire battle in a weird standoff?

So either Dabi's current state is the result of creator cruelty or:

In the last couple chapters we have left, we're going to find out Eri's Quirk is not as damaged as everyone thought it was and she comes in clutch to save everyone. It's a cop-out ending, but I tentatively think this one might actually happen yet, mostly because it would neatly fix Bakugou's destroyed hand and some of the other characters who were maimed in Final War to the point their Quirks are barely usable.

Dr. Garaki cuts a deal where he biologically engineers a solution that saves everyone in exchange for a reduced sentence. Also a legit possibility. Would not be shocked if President Hawks visits the guy in prison and says, "Listen, a lot of people got really messed up in that last fight, so we've got a proposition for you." Saving both heroes and ensuring the villains actually live out a life sentence.

That unknown figure wandering around the wasteland does prove to be Shigaraki and he's got some unknown Quirk from AFO that could potentially save his comrades and we're headed for a Harry Potter Musical 'It's Not Over Yet' twist ending.

If the rumors about My Hero getting a sequel series are true, Horikoshi may be keeping Dabi around in case he has a use for him there. I don't know how that would even be possible, but I do admit the possibility of this conversation does make me laugh a little:

Pro Shouto: The plan couldn't have gone more wrong. Deku was in the wrong place. Bakugou was being Bakugou. Yaoyorozu had a relapse in nervousness and just created those weird dolls of hers instead of the materials we actually needed. The whole thing made the civilians laugh though. Not mean laughter, they were entertained and that's important, but if we were still in school, Aizawa would have expelled us all for sure.

Dabi: ...as much I just love our bi-weekly challenge of how long we can keep a conversation going before that heart monitor goes off and they put me back to sleep, do I have to listen to you bitch about work?

Pro Shouto: You said you wanted to hear about the outside world.

Dabi: Yeah, the fucking weather and shit.

Pro Shouto: You want a full forecast or--

Dabi: Don't make me come down there.

...

Realistically, none of those four scenarios are gonna happen, but the sequel rumors are preventing me from discounting them outright.

I would say there's no point in having that last minute 'everyone is saved' because that's it, that's the end, but then I remember Zuko's last line in Avatar is, "Where is my mother?" and opened up that whole subplot for the graphic novels.

So I don't know anymore.

[genericpuff]

Omg hiiii, I absolutely love Rekindled! You're so talented, and the story you're making for Persephone is so intriguing! A lot more than whatever trashfire Lore Olympus has become.

That being said, what was the moment you stopped liking LO Persephone? Have you always disliked her, or was it gradual? Or just a specific moment that made you go "yeaaaaah.. she's not it ;-;"

(And bonus question if I can ask, but how do you draw hands?? I hate them with a passion, but unfortunately hands are pretty necessary T^T)

aahhh thank you so much!!!

honestly, I was a pretty big fan of LO up until the trial arc. Like, you've all seen me hate this comic with a fiery passion, but the only reason I'm able to do that is because before I hated this comic, I loooved this comic. I'd literally be counting down the hours until new updates, I loved the art, and I was too smitten by the appeal of the series to notice its writing problems, I just loved the romantic drama and the H x P ship, and yes, I loved Persephone, I loved her design, her personality, and I felt so 'seen' by her struggles, both with her trying to pave a path for herself and the SA plotline. I was even (regrettably) one of those people who would lurk in the antiLO tags and think "wow, these people are dumb, can't they see how brilliantly written this is ?? they're nitpicking!"

But then the trial arc happened which involved writing a plot that didn't put the romance front and center anymore - now that Rachel had to actually write something complex and logic-driven, the blinders started to fall off and I went wait... maybe Rachel doesn't know what she's doing. Persephone choosing her own lawyer? And it's Hades, one of the judges? Why are they suddenly establishing Thanatos as Hades' adoptive son? I'm not a lawyer, but I know that's not how any of this works and it really tipped me off that something was amiss, that Persephone was having all of her solutions conveniently handed to her on a platter and all of the other characters were suddenly being made to look like assholes just to make Hades and Persephone the heroes.

And then... Eris happened.

See, one of the things I loved most in the story was Persephone's character arc concerning the Act of Wrath. I write stories about characters with dark "personas" all of the time. So it was something I had frame of reference for, I really loved the premise of Persephone earning her name through this act of violence and while it was dashed with the opening of S2 revealing it was "all an accident", I was excited to see how the trial arc would bring about new information and confirm who was telling the truth about what "really happened" with the Act of Wrath. If the courtroom drama wasn't gonna be realistic, I could at least hope for some good 'OBJECTION!' reveal that would finally put to rest once and for all what really happened, and maybe Kore would finally embrace this 'dark side' she had.

So for the actual twist to suddenly reveal itself as... 'actually, this one goddess we've never mentioned before blessed you with wrath. why? idk she just did. anyways she's the reason you have wrath and that's what made you commit the act of wrath. problem solved.'

And that was where the twisting of 'faith' happened. When I went through the subconscious realization of , "Oh no, Rachel doesn't know what she's doing and it took me this long to notice. Oh no, maybe those antiLO freaks had a point-"

That said, there was a glimmer of hope in the midseason finale. Persephone was sentenced to remain in the Mortal Realm to carry out her mother's duties and I thought, "great! This will be Persephone's Rocky moment! She'll have to prove herself without the help of Demeter or Hades! This is gonna be awesome!!" During the hiatus, I was VERY excited to see where the story was going, I still had so much hope and I figured the mishandling of the trial arc was just a bump in the road. The series was still good, it was just going through a rough patch, these things happen.

And then it came back and it all went downhill from there. There was a 10 year time skip with very little insight as to what happened. Minthe and Daphne were just suddenly back to normal. They were referencing some food shortage or terrible event that happened during Persephone's reign that they never explained in explicit detail. And now, all of a sudden, Persephone was just returning to the Underworld, where Kronos had suddenly taken over. I had cautious optimism but throughout it, I was really seeing the cracks that were already forming opening wide. A lot of what I had to say wasn't positive anymore, I literally couldn't understand what the reasoning was behind these writing decisions and I couldn't find myself rooting for Persephone anymore, everything just seemed to convenient and easy for her to make her seem like the "strong and confident" character the comic claimed her to be.

The S2 finale was my breaking point and I think it was for a lot of other people too. That was pretty much where my 'transformation' from passionate stan to passionate critic happened, and it happened alongside the creation of the UnpopularLoreOlympus subreddit which would become my new 'home' within the community. After seeing how much the story had gone downhill, it made me realize in hindsight just how awful and one-note Persephone is, how she really never cared about anyone but herself and Hades, how her mother did, actually, have a point about her being practically groomed into a relationship with a billionaire slave driver, how she was very intentionally drawn to look like a child in ways I couldn't believe I had never noticed before, the list of "awakenings" goes on. And it sucked! It sucked to have that realization that the thing I loved wasn't just imperfect, but incredibly problematic in its writing and art choices. And just like when I loved the comic, I couldn't just let go of it, I had to understand to some degree why this happened.

It happened because Persephone was always being written as a one-note, easy to project onto self-insert character. A Wattpad protagonist. Not an actual representation of the Goddess of Spring, but a blank slate for the creator and the fans to imagine themselves as purely for the power fantasy of hooking up with a rich and abusive guy.

That was when I made my first piece of LO art intended to be an 'edit' - a redraw of Persephone's rebirth as the Dread Queen from the S2 finale, an ode to the Persephone I was hoping to see but never got. The rest from there is history.

I know I'm being SUPER dramatic about it but this was literally how it felt to go through the realization that this comic - and its characters - wasn't as good as I thought it was, and I think that's a sentiment that's shared by a lot of the 'haters' in this community. LO was a big part of my life and even some of my friendships with people, so when it went downhill, it felt like such a hit to the gut. It's still a big part of my life, albeit in the opposite direction, but I still wonder sometimes over the "what ifs", what if the series hadn't turned out this way? What if I had never realized its flaws? Rekindled is basically a love letter to those what ifs, satisfying the feelings I never got to keep with LO, and giving me a reason to count down the hours on Saturday nights again. I'm glad it's made that same impact for others, too <3

[yunhogosailing]

women’s rights, stan culture, and “idolization”: what the fuck are we doing here?

tw: sexual abuse

i am absolutely dismayed to hear of the ongoing situation involving taeil, despite knowing very little about him as a person and having surface level knowledge of nct 127 as a group. i am even more dismayed at the discourse surrounding the way nctzens, especially taeil stans, have been reacting to the news since the announcement this morning.

i dont want to rant and ramble bc that helps nobody. i’ve read my fair share of thinkpieces on various platforms—some well thought out, some covering the bare minimum at best, and even more demonstrating a complete lack of understanding as to how we need to approach these subjects both as fans and as consumers. i feel as if everything that needed to be said has been said, but i do want to touch on a point of my own, and tell you all how you can help support the ongoing korean feminist movement.

it is not healthy to go about your entire life assuming that you will see the worst of someone eventually.

this is true for anyone you meet: an idol, a family member, a friend, and a complete stranger. i’m exhausted by all of the Hot Takes admonishing those who feel a sense of loss, sorrow, and disgust upon finding out that someone who they were led to trust could potentially be capable of doing something as heinous as what is being alleged against taeil.

“you don’t know these people” you’re correct! i most certainly do not.

“don’t put these people up on a pedestal” nobody is doing this by virtue of simply being a fan.

“as a boy group stan you should always keep in mind that men are shit.” are you starting to see my issue, yet?

you are not naive or stupid for believing the best in someone, even if this is a person you have never met and will never know on a more personal level than as a fan of an idol. i am exhausted with the seemingly popular belief that its somehow healthy or normal to navigate through life operating under the assumption that everyone around you has the capacity for violence and harm. it is not healthy. as a survivor of sexual abuse and harassment, one of the first things i had to regain over my life was a sense of control and sanity. this meant ridding myself of the fear that i could be re-victimized at any moment. statistically speaking, it was always a possibility. but realistically speaking, i was doing far greater harm to myself throughout my recovery when i was afraid of the men around me.

if you are an nctzen, if you are taeil biased, do not feel bad about being blindsided by this. do not start assuming that the other members must have been aware, or must be involved, or must have committed some crime of their own; that is simply not how the real world works. if you are a fan of boy groups, keep your standards high but do not view this as a reason to be hyper vigilant of the people you stan. do not assume the worst until they present you with the worst. expecting people to be decent is not idolizing someone. its when you refuse to hold them accountable to the actions that they have done that you cross the line between being a fan and being an enabler.

why is this important to keep in mind?

we as kpop stans are in a particularly unique position. we are consumers of a byproduct from a culture that is undergoing a severe women’s rights crisis.

just recently, a series of telegram groups were discovered in which hundreds of thousands of users created and shared artificial explicit materials (deepfakes) involving women and young girls spanning from kindergartners to university students to adults; family members, classmates, coworkers, etc. the figures of the perpetrators involved could potentially be as high as 300,000 individuals, and a overwhelming majority of those in these chats are believed to be men.

this incident is coming right off the tails of another, more infamous group of telegram rooms nicknamed “the Nth rooms”—where a number of men helped to orchestrate one of the largest cases of digital sex crimes in south korean history, victimizing over a hundred women and young girls for the purpose of disseminating violent sexually explicit materials.

even before the original Nth Room case, korean women had more than enough reasons to fear for their safety; molka (hidden camera) crimes were on the rise, with over 30,000 cases being reported between 2013 and 2018. korean women were being assaulted and killed in their homes and on the street for no reason (significantly high femicide rates are still an issue in south korea today). women were being prosecuted over the mere belief that they may be involved in the country’s feminist movement—experiencing professional repercussions over accusations such as reading a book, having short hair, or making a gesture. in the wake of this anti-feminist backlash, it became increasingly common for men to voice their discomfort for what they believe to be “radical” measures taken by korean women to ensure their safety and improve their futures. see, for example, rapper San-E who wrote a diss track towards feminists and is still able to walk these streets relatively unharmed due to his position of privilege.

the notion that you should always assume that every man you meet is a potential sex criminal or a misogynist is harmful simply because that is the exact reason why korean feminists have been working so hard to change the legislation surrounding sexual crimes for the last two decades. the ultimate goal of gender equality is having that reassurance that no matter what gender motivated crime is committed against you, you will be entitled to justice through the courts and free of the stigma of being a victim in society. korean women want to be able to interact with their brothers and fathers without worrying about ending up in a deepfake video. korean women want to be able to venture outside their homes at night without fear of being followed and abducted. korean women want to be able to use the restroom at work without having to check the stalls for microscopic recording devices. the idea that you should be weary of those around you and those who have gained your trust is detrimental to your mental health, and with this knowledge, korean women have been actively working tirelessly to ensure a future where they will not have to worry about this.

it could be your faves, but theres no guarantee that it will ever be or that it will never be. rather, work today to uphold the standard that women should be protected and hold those who have violated their rights as human beings to the full power of the law. keep the names of those who have suffered or died from violent crimes against women alive and their stories in the media. south korean feminists are asking for our help in spreading the news about the recent deepfake Nth rooms, because they are facing silence and noncompliance from domestic media outlets to do their due diligence in investigating this matter.

they are suggesting that you take korean news articles surrounding the deepfakes, or korean feminist posts discussing the telegram groups and any events that are being planned to protest for women’s rights, and run them through a translator if needed in order to share them with english speaking news media. the idea is that as long as international eyes are on the atrocities being committed against women in the country, the korean news cannot suppress their voices.

here are the twitter accounts that i know of who are taking the risk to share their stories and that of other south korean women:

link to profile

link to profile

link to profile

link to profile

link to profile

[manynarrators]

So I'm reading Queen of the Damned for the first time, and the following bit stood out to be. Excerpt (pg. 139-141) under the cut because it's a bit long, but I want to talk about it!

This comes from the chapter about the Talamasca, and this particular passage is David Talbot (head of the organization) trying to prove to Jesse that vampires are real.

Imagine, there is so much of you on file as to be the example that vampires exist. You have been recreated in unsettling detail and kept in the archives. You and the painting both survive, but you are not the you in the painting.

Nor are you the most important part of this, you are a link to a story that isn't even yours. Your theatre isn't yours because the deed is in the name of Lestat de Lioncourt. There's a journal article with you smiling. You only maybe know about all of this.

Five-hundred years and you are a pretty thing on a shelf, still. That is what you will always be to them.

All of which is to say, that the show having just folders upon subfolders on Armand is both somehow more devastating reading the book, and also an accuracy! I want to read the files, what does the Talamasca know? How do they talk about Armand? How many people have seen this painting? Does Armand know about the extent of the archive, if so, how does he feel about that???

I'll take questions that will never be answered but that I desperately want to be for $500.

She saw an enormous painting against the far wall. She placed it at once as Renaissance, and probably Venetian. It was done in egg tempera on wood. And it had the marvelous sheen of such paintings, a gloss that no synthetic material can create. She read the Latin title along with the name of the artist, in small Roman-style letters painted in the lower right corner.

"The Temptation of Amadeo" by Marius

She stood back to study it.

A splendid choir of black-winged angels hovered around a single kneeling figure, that of a young auburn-haired boy. The cobalt sky behind them, seen through a series of arches, was splendidly done with masses of gilded clouds. And the marble floor before the figures had a photographic perfection to it. One could feel its coldness, see the veins in the stone.

But the figures were the true glory of the picture. The faces of the angels were exquisitely modeled, their pastel robes and black feathered wings extravagantly detailed. And the boy, the boy was very simply alive! His dark brown eyes veritably glistened as he stared forward out of the painting. His skin appeared moist. He was about to move or speak.

In fact, it was all too realistic to be Renaissance. The figures were particular rather than ideal. The angels wore expressions of faint amusement, almost bitterness. And the fabric of the boy's tunic and leggings, it was too exactly rendered. She could even see the mends in it, a tiny tear, the dust on his sleeve. There were other such details-- dried leaves here and there on the floor, and two paintbrushes lying to one side for no apparent reason.

"Who is this Marius?" she whispered. The name meant nothing. And never had she seen an Italian painting with so many disturbing elements. Black-winged angels…

David didn't answer. He pointed to the boy. "It's the boy I want you to observe," he said. "He's not the real subject of your investigation, merely a very important link."

Subject? Link... She was too engrossed in the picture. "And look, bones in the corner, human bones covered with dust, as if someone had merely swept them out of the way. But what on earth does it all mean?"

"Yes," David murmured. "When you see the word 'temptation,' usually there are devils surrounding a saint."

"Exactly," she answered. "And the craft is exceptional." The more she stared at the picture, the more disturbed she became. "Where did you get this?"

"The order acquired it centuries ago," David answered. "Our emissary in Venice retrieved it from a burnt-out villa on the Grand Canal. These vampires are endlessly associated with fires, by the way. It is the one weapon they can use effectively against one another. There are always fires. In Interview with the Vampire, there were several fires, if you recall. Louis set fire to a town house in New Orleans when he was trying to destroy his maker and mentor, Lestat. And later, Louis burned the Theater of the Vampires in Paris after Claudia's death." Claudia's death. It sent a shiver through Jesse, startling her slightly.

"But look at this boy carefully," David said. "It's the boy we're discussing now."

Amadeo. It meant "one who loves God." He was a handsome creature, all right. Sixteen, maybe seventeen, with a square, strongly proportioned face and a curiously imploring expression.

David had put something in her hand. Reluctantly she took her eyes off the painting. She found herself staring at a tintype, a late-nineteenth-century photograph. After a moment, she whispered: "This is the same boy!"

"Yes. And something of an experiment," David said. "It I was most likely taken just after sunset in impossible lighting conditions which might not have worked with another subject. Notice not much is really visible but his face." True, yet she could see the style of the hair was of the period. I "You might look at this as well," David said. And this time he gave her an old magazine, a nineteenth-century journal, the I kind with narrow columns of tiny print and ink illustrations. There was the same boy again alighting from a barouche-- a hasty sketch, though the boy was smiling.

"The article's about him, and about his Theater of the Vampires. Here's an English journal from 1789. That's a full eighty years earlier, I believe. But you will find another very thorough description of the establishment and the same young man."

"The Theater of the Vampires…" She stared up at the auburn-haired boy kneeling in the painting. "Why, this is Armand, the character in the novel!"

"Precisely. He seems to like that name. It may have been Amadeo when he was in Italy, but it became Armand by the eighteenth century and he's used Armand ever since."

"Slow down, please," Jesse said. "You're telling me that the Theater of the Vampires has been documented? By our people?"

"Thoroughly. The file's enormous. Countless memoirs describe the theater. We have the deeds to the property as well. And here we come to another link with our files and this little novel, Interview with the Vampire. The name of the owner of the theater was Lestat de Lioncourt, who purchased it in 1789. And the property in modern Paris is in the hands of a man by the same name even now."

"This is verified?" Jesse said.

"It's all in the file," David said, "photostats of the old records and the recent ones. You can study the signature of Lestat if you like. Lestat does everything in a big way, covers half the page with his magnificent lettering. We have photostats of several examples. We want you to take those photostats to New Orleans with you. There's a newspaper account of the fire which destroyed the theater exactly as Louis described it. The date is consistent with the facts of the story. You must go over everything, of course. And the novel, do read it again carefully."

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

It was a documentary, not a series, that's why we were not satisfied because we wanted fiction, not a docuseries.

This only solidifies my POV, which I have already gone over on the Under The Table Podcast and in many previous entries on my blog, about the whole problem with S3 being in the WR. Coming from a very solid S2 and amazing S1 award season, only made matters worse, of course.

Viewers appreciate realism, as a matter of fact the kind of audience The Bear appeals to is the kinda public that digs realism and adult content, with lots of cussing, raw directorial style, fast-paced, etc. We are not the typical rom-com or even drama series audience. The Bear became a hit show back in 2022 because its eps were fast-paced, with a dramedy quality that made it original, lots of adult language, and with a hint of sexual tension that was "promising" if explored in future seasons, that at that point were not confirmed yet. S2 was ordered in July 2022 in the middle of the momentum the show was starting to get, and shot from February to April 2023, then it premiered in June 2023, only to compete now, in this award season that opened a few weeks ago at the 76th Primetime Emmy Awards.

Meaning: the reason why S3 didn't work as expected, and the numbers back that up that is why they haven't released them yet, is because the writers were not able to write a BALANCED plot. Yes, it hit all the realistic marks in terms of mental health struggles and fine dining 7th circle of hell, but at the same time, it lost every other "ingredient" that it used to have. THERE IS A WAY to write the best of both worlds, and I certainly expected that coming from who I considered the best script writer out there, the sadist. And his right hand wired for romance, Miss Calo. They didn't do it. They disappointed me. They went all in with the docuseries' raw realism style of Carmy hitting rock bottom, which if you were really paying attention in S2 was nothing but PREDICTABLE → as I proved even before S3 premiered here and here but they didn't build towards a cliffhanger that left you wanting more, actually, 03X10 is altogether hard to watch, there's no balance like in FISHES 02x06, for instance, just one punch after the other, all below the belt, no comedy, no breather, just tragedy and more tragedy and more sense of doom and more PLEASE MAKE IT STOP! THAT'S IT, END THIS, PULL THE PLUG, STOP IT! etc... Like I said: No balance.

Storer only focused on Carmy's background story, but didn't give us anything we couldn't have figured out on our own anyway, he didn't explore Syd's background story, which should be a collection of gems and absolutely Sydcarmy friendly because the more we know about her, the better we will be able to figure out how will Sydcarmy happen and when (I already know when, but still) and he also focused on Tina's background story, IMO that was completely unnecessary as T is not a central character, what he showed there was also easy to guess anyway and could have been summarised in a couple of scenes, not an entire bottled episode, not when other characters are UNEXPLORED after 3 seasons. So basically, all the decisions made in terms of SCRIPT were WRONG. The acting was perfect, the direction was too, the soundtrack, the cinematography, all of it, but the foundation wasn't there because in the WR the creative decisions made for S3 were completely fucked up, we were served a docuseries as opposed to the fictional show with a realism bouquet we were watching the previous 2 seasons.

WE WANT TO WATCH FICTION, write it realistically, sure! BUT DON'T LOSE WHAT YOU HAVE SO FAR, DON'T MUTATE INTO A DOCUMENTARY OF ALL THAT'S WRONG IN THE MENTAL HEALTH DEPARTMENT OR IN SOCIETY OR IN THE CULINARY INDUSTRY, we already know that and if we don't, we can always tune in the motherfucking news, not FX, and certainly not Disney+. Thank you very much.

[ageravena]

You know what, the Fairly OddParents fandom has been quite tame. Let's spice things up a little bit.

Doesn't anybody else get that silly feeling when you see fanart of Peri being like a father to Dev, like... where's the rest of you 😍? Don't be shy, show us where Dale is. Or are you too scared? (I wouldn't blame you, I was too at first)

Small warning: this post includes slight swearing and many brain-numbing headcanons. I'm not responsible for any mental anguish you may experience

I would like to quickly apologize to the 6 people shipping Peri with Dale. I thought I was the only one but it seems like I've finally found my people. Anyways, back to the topic.

Now that you're here, I may as well show some more art of these two goobers +some silly headcanons. These are my AUed* versions of the two in my odd semi-realistic style that I completely ditch whenever I don't have the patience to draw faces (I often suck at drawing them. No wonder all my OCs are furries)

Note: him being slightly chubby and him having mobility issues are both headcanons I have shamelessly borrowed from others in the fandom. Also am I the only one who thinks Peri WOULDN'T be 6 ft tall? In the series he's like 5 apples tall, so wouldn't it make sense for him to be a bit short?

Note: there's like a bunch of lore explaining the reason why Dale looks so fucked up in my version. I scarred him for life, oopsie! But at least he has Peri now who "forces" him to go to therapy 😍. I may need to make a seperate post where I only talk about him and his past if I have the motivation.

I know a lot of you don't even know the pain of trying to convert a stylized character into a realistic style and still making them look good and kinda recognizable. I envy you who have less realistic art styles.

*And yes, I did say AU. More specifically I'm talking about the "Missionaries of Eden AU" (by me). I'm not gonna go into detail now, but basically it's a semi-biblical and more serious take on FOP, where the fairies are angels, anti-fairies are demons and pixies... I think they can stay as pixies, or maybe they're ghosts, bees? (There's a lot of things I still need to figure out) Their tasks are to work as missionaries on the planets of Eden (planets where life exists). There's a bunch of other lore (some of which I've explained on my casual/personal account on Instagram), but it's best I leave it for another time.

Btw: if you've seen me talk about a "Below the Stars AU", "Bible AU", "Ager DLC" or something else, it's all just the same thing. I just had a hard time coming up with a good name for it lol.

Also speaking of which, I have another post coming up (hopefully) where I explain my reasons for shipping Peri and Dale. It can honestly, out of context, seem like a toxic yaoi crack ship, but believe it or not but I managed to make it the opposite; plausible AND healthy. I want to enlighten you all plus I really want to yap about them.

It feels super funny to ship such a underrated ship. I'm used to shipping semi-popular ships, so to now be all alone feels kinda fun! They have so much potential and so few are seeing the vision?? Though to be fair I'm also glad it's not that famous lmao.

Ps. Ignore the fact I haven't posted anything here for at least half-a-year. All my mutuals are on Instagram, so I don't have a need to post here, though now I've decided to dedicate this account to hyperfixation slop so maybe you'll be hearing from me much sooner.

Ps. Ps. I currently have a 22-page-long google doc filled with lore and info about almost everything I've thought of for the AU, but it's 80% in Finnish so sharing it is useless.

Man, I love writing unnecessary long posts knowing I'm the only one reading them❤️😍 though if you HAVE gotten this far, here's a little treat:

My body refuses to draw Dale in his original outfit. I like to pretend Peri helped him change a bit (most notably taking off his goddamn shoes, though they do have some lore that I've created. GGHHRRAAA EVERYTHING HAS LORE ATTACHED TO IT GRRRR). Also Dev isn't actually grumpy, he just likes to act tough.

My art style looks probably so inconsistent❤️

[myfairkatiecat]

Thinking about getting into kotlc. What specifically do you like and find recommendable about it?

Keeper of the Lost Cities is my all time favorite book series. It's not the objectively best story I've ever read, but it's my favorite. Here are a few reasons you should ABSOLUTELY read KOTLC:

Fantastic adoption plot. The process of Grady and Edaline adopting Sophie and the complicated way Sophie grows to see them as parental figures, the ups and downs, the way it takes years for her to decide to adress one of them as mom or dad, the way those moments are portrayed as special... it really clicks, especially as someone from a foster family.

The main character is super realistic and well developed. She undergoes a lot of non-linear character development. She has strong beliefs that sometimes conflict with what she's expected to stand for. Her journey from book one to book nine with how she learns to be a leader, stand up for herself, and do what she thinks is right all the time is super well portrayed.

The characters and their relationships are very well developed and complex. Yes, certain things are made very clear through the narration because Shannon is in fact writing for kids, but after books one and two a lot of the kids series feel vanishes almost entirely. I mean, no, it's still charming and silly most of the time, but it doesn't feel as young, especially as the characters grow older and a lot of darker and more complicated issues begin to arise.

The portrayal of the dystopia is fascinating. KOTLC is not in the dystopian genre for a reason. The Lost Cities are not presented as a dystopia at all. That just... comes out slowly. Sophie goes there and is told that everything about the world is perfect, and since everything is sparkling and glittering, it must be, right? She has a few early thoughts about how certain things seem wrong, and those thoughts continue to grow as the problems with the Lost cities become clearer and clearer. Their government and social systems are very messed up, and Sophie only sees the surface of it because she's usually interacting with the nobility, but the reason for both rebellions formed is fixing those exact societal issues.

The good guys and bad guys want a lot of the same things. There's a focus in KOTLC on doing the right thing, not just achieving the right goal. Which sometimes means characters mess that up! (cough keefe sencen cough) But again, all this stuff is explored in a super accessible way, because it's a middle grade series. It feels like reading something deeply interesting with good messages without having to take a lot of time to wrap your head around what those messages are.

The characters are incredibly well-developed. Their backgrounds and history explain most of their personality and actions in amazing ways. I'm thinking specifically of Sophie, Keefe, Tam, Linh, Fitz, and Dex right now, but I'm sure there are more examples (and I hope it gets explored more with Marella in the future, tbh. We know about her childhood--how does that impact her personality?) It makes it very interesting to rotate these elves around in your head.

There are multi-book arcs, many huge reveals are foreshadowed from the beginning. The books open lots and lots of mystery boxes--there are tons of questions being asked ALWAYS--but in the end, they get answered (some more satisfying than others), really portraying just how much can happen even in a short time frame for these kids. Honestly, the whole three-years-over-nine-books thing feels PERFECT to me. Unlike Harry Potter, each book isn't a school year. Unlike Percy Jackson, each book isn't a summer vacation. All of these things happen one after the other, saturating the characters lives, and I think it's very interesting.

The adults have some crazy lore going on. It's pretty fun to try to piece all of that stuff together because Sophie doesn't take a lot of interest in it.

Everything about KOTLC is interesting to me. I'm not going to say there's no issues with it ever (please followers do not come in my ask box and start telling me there are issues with KOTLC idk why it's so controversial to say that Shannon did a really good job with character and plot complexity) but I hugely recommend giving it a read. Let me know if you read it and what you think!

[eyesteeth]

my thoughts and theories on fionna and cake

so from the trailer alone i’m pretty sure this is going to be very Simon-centric. as established in the main series, Fionna and Cake is genderbend fanfiction written by Ice King. however, it seems likely that the Fionna and Cake focused on in this series will not be the one within Simon’s mind - not fully, anyway.

i initially believed that the Fionna and Cake we see in this series would be entirely figments of Simon's imagination - fanfiction used as a coping mechanism. Fionna's world is realistic and bland and mundane because Simon's "lost the magic in his life", and Fionna's world gaining magic would be a sign of changes in his mental state.

i no longer believe this because i took too many screenshots of the trailer. however, i do think that the Fionna and Cake of Simon's mind will be relevant, and Fionna's world mirroring Simon's is an intentional comparison.

my take is this - Fionna and Cake is going to have an overarching a-plot of Fionna figuring out what's gone wrong with her world and defeating the threat, and a b-plot of Simon facing his mortality and his trauma and coming to terms with both.

that's my tl;dr. long post below.

Simon’s a character with a lot of depth to him, but none of the Distant Lands specials focused on him, so it’s his turn to hold the Trauma Ball. we know that he isn’t immortal anymore with the crown gone. he’s visibly aged in the trailer, growing some white hair, and is wrinklier.

(Tom Kenny also said in an interview that this is the most emotional thing he’s worked on, and Tom Kenny’s been in fucking everything, so you know it’s gonna be big. i cannot for the life of me find the source for this so you're gonna have to trust me on this one.)

aging is clearly gonna fuck Simon up for multiple reasons - beyond the normal stuff, aging means he's going to look like Ice King, making himself a visual reminder of the worst time of his life. he also spent a very long time as an immortal, and adjusting to the idea of death after centuries of being the same age is probably gonna fuck with him.

he’ll also be dwelling on his past - there’s shots in the trailer of him and Marcy together right after the Mushroom War, likely filling in some gaps from that time. we already got a whole episode dedicated to their time together in the main series, so there's no need to tread that ground again - this will likely show new moments with them or recontextualize things with the state Simon's in now.

(there's also a shot of both of their feet but i couldn't fit both sets of shoes on one frame)

then there’s a shot of what’s very obviously a musical number from the in-between state of Simon and Ice King. this could be the first time he puts on the crown (or an early time), resulting a darkly upbeat moment of juxtaposition, or it could be an equally dark current-day moment along the lines of “wasn’t it so nice when you had the crown on and you didn’t have to think about anything? when you were immortal and too out of it to realize how bad of a spot you were in?”

or it could be a secret third thing. keep this image in mind, it'll be relevant later.

as for some miscellaneous screenshots, takes these two:

Simon's coat is missing in the first but he still has it in the second, so either he goes on two separate adventures in Ooo, or the first image takes place after the second. i stand by this being Ooo in the first image because of the trees in the background. as for the second image, that's Finn in the top right, and the treehouse on the left. because of how old Finn looks in the big promo image, i assume this takes place between Obsidian and Together Forever - Jake is dead but Finn is not. Finn and Simon might have a talk about death and dying if the mortality thing gets brought up, or Finn might just be here to help Simon get where he needs to go.

to where they are going, one can only speculate. it might be Prismo's cube, but i'm a little iffy on that. the cube is massively relevant by the way and is likely how Fionna and Cake end up crossing paths with Simon.

because Prismo's whole deal is alternate universes (gestures at Farmworld Finn) i believe that this is how Fionna and Cake come to Ooo. Prismo's cube is even in the logo for this show, it's that important.

(Simon is no stranger to Prismo, we got the above moment in the Adventure Time finale, so him traveling to Prismo with Finn's help is a possibility.)

anyway, time for the people the show is actually named about!

for their side of the plotline, the description of the trailer is quite enlightening:

"Based on characters from the beloved “Adventure Time” franchise, this brand-new 10-episode series set in the land of Ooo follows the alternate universe versions of Finn & Jake on a multiverse-hopping journey towards self-discovery. When Fionna and her sidekick Cake find themselves in the crosshairs of a powerful new foe, they have no choice but to seek the help of former Ice King Simon Petrikov." (emphasis mine)

notably, they are referred to explicitly as alternate universe versions, so they are indeed their own people. i also find it curious that Fionna's life is somehow mundane enough to lack magic, yet wacky enough to have a "powerful new foe". unless that something is actively sucking the magic out of their universe, this particular foe is a mystery to me.

however, because multiverse hopping is mentioned, i believe that the big foe is gonna have ~some weirdness~ about it, possibly attacking universe after universe for its intended goal ala [insert your preferred bagel-based multiverse movie here]. i'd also like to present the following screencaps to the court:

the use of line color, color choice, and shading in between the two on the left and the two on the right are like night and day. so, given the multiverse theme, i propose that these are two different Fionnas - the Fionna and Cake as presented by Simon on the left, and the real magicless Fionna from her universe on the right. alternatively, the one on the left could be Fionna after she comes to Ooo, and she just gets a costume change.

(also, the musical number shot has coloring similar to the set on the right, potentially indicating that scene takes place in the same location/episode/universe/etc as those shots. this is the third secret thing.)

(also also, this is probably way too off the wall to be true, but the ones on the right look incredibly similar to Bee and Puppycat in terms of color, and given that Natasha Allegri is responsible for both Bee and Puppycat and the creation of Fionna, this series could get into ideas of creation, using Simon's Fionna vs the real Fionna as an allegory somehow. i will be shocked if this happens, i think it's just visual flair tbh, i just wanted to get this thought out of my brain)

if this wasn't a spotty post before here's where it gets Real Spotty:

i believe this is Fionna in Ooo, she's in a bunny hat and she's with a kid in Finn's clothes. i believe this is Ooo because of the fire people at the bottom. Fionna is also still wearing the outfit she had on in the bus in the beginning of the trailer, leading me to believe that she gets to Ooo after that set of scenes.

i further believe this is Ooo, because we see the same kid in this shot. that's Simon's leg on the right, muddied up, so this could be after his adventure with Finn. on the left is the Fionna and Cake script in the bin, this being the Fionna and Cake Simon came up with. my guess is that this kid is a fan of the Fionna and Cake Simon came up with and this outfit is a cosplay. maybe he published his fanfiction. good for him.

as for the city behind the closing door...

... maybe it could be this? i'm not sure if this city is on Ooo, frankly. the trees are different. maybe Fionna, Simon, and this kid all went to an alt universe together by accident? and that's why the kid looks so distraught in the shot with the bin?

for my last image-based comment, simon's sleeve has been torn off here (bottom of his-right-our-left arm) so it's possible that whatever muddied his pants in the bin shot also got his coat messed up, possibly his adventure with Finn.

to recap this meandering post

here's an extremely weak guess of plot points from the previously proposed concepts

Fionna lives a normal, bland life, realizes something is wrong, and ends up in Ooo over the course of a day. within this day, she does her job on the bus, sees something's up with Cake, experiences some dimension weirdness, chases Cake at some point, her and Cake end up falling, and then it's Ooo time.

in Ooo, she meets a kid that's a fan of Fionna and Cake - from the stories Simon wrote and published.

Fionna decides she needs Simon's help, possibly because he's apparently written books about her, so they go to get him

meanwhile, Simon's had a bad mental health day and is spiraling.

he ends up in the woods with Finn for some reason, possibly to death talk, and they have an adventure that takes the length of the day. by the end of it, Simon's clothes are torn up and he just wants to go home.

he goes home and sits down for like A Minute before Fionna and the kid show up at his place.

(there is no evidence for this but i feel like seeing the character you made up in your genderbend fanfic irl would be freaky so Simon's like "wow i've fucking lost it i'm hallucinating my oc")

situation gets explained to a very non-receptive Simon

the three/four of them head off onto a multiversal quest with widely varying levels of enthusiasm

over the course of the quest shenanigans ensue and Simon has many moments of contemplation on his past and future

Fionna gets the situation with her home universe figured out

You Will Cry Your Eyes Out

the end

that's all i got. feel free to go crazy in the notes.

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 叛逆者/The Rebel.

The Rebel is a 2021 period drama set during the 1930s and '40s as seen (mostly) from Shanghai by a patriotic young man who just keeps getting injured, ow, that poor baby.

It's a fairly realistic spy drama, by which I mean, there's not a bunch of cute costume changes or fun fake identities. Instead, this is a story about people who live entire other lives for years, keeping their true allegiances under wraps, doing what they can to help their side while sweating out what they can’t. It's way more John le Carré than Ian Fleming -- no James Bond flashiness or gizmos, all George Smiley subterfuge and paperwork. Actual spycraft is tough, kids!

Full disclaimer up front: This show is not a happy fun good time. It's a fascinating, gripping, tense piece of work about a thirteen-year period of history where a whole lot of miserable things were happening. The body count is frighteningly high. Be very careful about which characters you get attached to. Exactly one man has plot armor, so God help the rest of them.

However, if you're up for a quality drama with a serious tone that's so full of HISTORY! it's bursting at the seams, I have five reasons you should give this one a shot:

1. Starring the veins in Zhu Yilong's forehead

Do you feel like watching a beautiful man have a terrible day for 43 episodes straight?

This show is absolutely a Zhu Yilong vehicle. The rest of the cast is great (and more on them later), but he's the star -- and the show just loves to beat him up, both emotionally and physically. His character, Lin Nansheng, exists in a Murphy's-Law situation where if anything bad can happen to him, it will. If you like seeing this gorgeous gentleman in distress, this show has you covered.

Someone please care him.

2. Daddy Issues

Chen Moqun is a bad, bad man. He's a bastard in his first scene, and he's a bastard in his last. He is loyal to exactly one thing, and that is his own survival. He will ally with anyone and fuck anyone over if it means he gets to live another day.

He is also scaldingly hot in his bastardry.

Chen Moqun is the spymaster who pulls Lin Nansheng out of the regular military ranks and into the world of the intelligence services, despite Lin Nansheng's lack of experience in the field. This means that Lin Nansheng is Chen Moqun's little golden boy -- and that means Chen Moqun feels justified in making Lin Nansheng do whatever the hell he wants, and in getting all up in Lin Nansheng's business when he doesn't do it perfectly.

I know there are several of you out there whose tails just started wagging. Good, you've got it.

Alas that he is not in nearly as much of the series as his top billing suggests he would be. He's a major figure in the early arcs, but pretty soon after, Circumstances relocate him to somewhere Lin Nansheng isn't -- and because Lin Nansheng is our POV character, Chen Moqun all but vanishes from the show. He reappears later, but as a much less prominent figure. Still a self-serving bastard, though! Don't worry about that.

I like Chen Moqun as a character for a lot of reasons. He's slimy, but he's effective. He's smart, but he's not a supervillain. He's the kind of competent bastard that it's very fun to watch the good guys outwit. He kind of has to leave the narrative, because he's so sharp that much of the plot would be impossible under his supervision; he gets replaced by [spoiler], whose general incompetence makes him dangerous in a very different way, but who is so self-absorbed that he can't see when he's being played. Pulling the wool over Chen Moqun's eyes is a much nastier business.

At the same time, though, he's a coward. He'll sell out anything and anyone to save his own skin. His lack of inner conviction eventually reduces him to something pathetic, leaving him at the mercy of people he once abused, Lin Nansheng included. ...Ah, your tails are wagging harder now, I see.

Now, for those of you who are not into a Bad Daddy dynamic, may I sell you on how Lin Nansheng also has two Good Daddies?

Honestly, if this show had not been laboring under the weight of [gestures to the state of Chinese media and culture], I'm pretty sure they would have made at least one of these two Older Lifelong Bachelors textually gay. I'm just saying, throw-yourself-into-the-cause-style patriotism is a great cover for never marrying and being cagey about your entire personal life.

Also, I know their super-secret espionage meetups on park benches aren't intended to look like dudes cruising, but come on.

3. A startlingly good love story???

And I say "startlingly" because the love story comes in multiple stages, and I haaaaaate the first one. Fortunately, so does the show!

When Lin Nansheng and Zhu Yizhen start off their romance, she's a wealthy college schoolgirl (which comes off as more than a little creepy, since Tong Yao is clearly in her late thirties) and he's a TA at her school -- except she's actually a student activist working for the Communists, and he's a member of the KMT sent to seduce her and infiltrate her cell. It goes exactly as badly as you'd expect! And when it was clear it was over for good, I breathed a sigh of relief. I liked them both as individual characters, but as a romantic pairing, the amount of malicious deception involved really wasn't doing it for me, to say nothing of how I dislike teacher/student as a trope. (Also, they really have no chemistry together, but whatever, I'm used to c-drama hets by now.) Well, I thought, thank goodness all that's over and we'll never have to come back to it!

But here's the thing: They come together again later under different circumstances, and oh, that's some good stuff. She gets a haircut, he gets to be himself, and the two of them have to learn how to work together even when they can't entirely trust one another.

That amount of deception is great, because that's not lies -- it's opsec. They are both withholding colossal amounts of information from one another, and each one of them knows the other's doing it, even if they don't know what information is being withheld. They both want to know what the other person knows, but they also know that person would die before giving up their secrets.

This does lead to a number of points where you're hollering JUST TELL HIM/HER at the screen, which can get a little frustrating. But, like, you get it. They've got reasons for not sharing information, and grim little reason number one is, the bad guys can't torture out of you what you don't know.

This is not a romance drama; this is a drama that happens to have a complicated romance stitched all the way through it. Sometimes it's the main focus, but much of the time it's a side note. The two of them go years at a time without interacting. They each spend a fair amount of time believing the other is dead. When they do get to work together, they're great partners. When they're separated or at odds, they don't collapse.

I said earlier that Lin Nansheng is the POV character, which is mostly true. However, we do get a not-small amount of the story told from Zhu Yizhen's POV when he's not around, which goes a long way toward making her an actual person and not just an accessory to his story -- and that goes a long way toward making this romance something between equals, and not just a case where a nice guy feels real bad about how much he fucked over the girl he liked.

I'd say that if you're looking for a drama where the love story is a central point of interest, or for a drama without any love story at all, you'll be happier elsewhere. However, if you're a Goldilocks who enjoys a fraught love story when it's there but doesn't miss it when it's gone, this may strike a good balance for you!

This pair is also about as much as the show gets in terms of textual, onscreen romance. Howerver, there are also a number of couples in this show who have to pretend to be married, if that's a trope that does it for you. And speaking of those...

4. My Fair Lady

Lan Xinjie turned out to be maybe my favorite character in the show, which surprised the hell out of me, considering how she was introduced as a pretty throwaway character: Oh, look, a pretty and sophisticated woman at the dance hall, she can use her refined and wordly ways to make The Virgin Lin Nansheng sweat, it's great.

But then she comes back. In fact, she keeps exiting the narrative and then showing up again a couple episodes later! Her continued involvement with these spy boys keeps both ruining her life and saving it. Every time you think she's gotten out, circumstances pull her back into Lin Nansheng's catastrophe orbit, making her maybe the most tragic character in a series full of them.

Here's a thing that impressed me about the drama: Lan Xinjie is a sex worker, but the show never shits on her for that. The show presents what she's doing as negative, but mostly because she doesn't particularly enjoy doing it. She keeps doing it, though, because sometimes it's the best way for her to make money, and sometimes it's the only way for her to make money.

The thing is, Lan Xinjie herself never talks about what she's doing like it's some tragic fate. It's a job. She has to play nice with jackass men from all over the world, and she can do it because men fall all over a pretty girl like her. Whenever Lin Nansheng makes a sad face about it, she basically rolls her eyes at him. She has a very solid grasp of the way the world works, and she's going to do what she needs to do to keep herself and her loved ones alive.

Now: Lan Xinjie definitely functions in the narrative as a contrast to how Good and Pure Communist Girl-Next-Door Zhu Yizhen is. Lan Xinjie is a little too much of a Fallen Woman, so she's never going to threaten Zhu Yizhen's position as the main love interest. However, it would have been so easy to go all in on slut-shaming Lan Xinjie to make that contrast even starker, and the show does not do that. It does not judge her for her choices, in part because it understands that women like her very often doesn't have any.

On top of all of this, Zhu Zhu can act her damn face off. There are story beats that could have been melodramatic and unintentionally comic, but she sells them and makes them devastating. Arguably the best scenes in the entire show are when she and Zhu Yilong are working together, because the two of them consistently turn in stellar performances. This show is not exactly a font of subtlety (see my next point), but both of them manage to play their roles with restraint and dignity that make their moments together shine.

I won't spoil where exactly this goes, but to me, the complicated relationship between Lin Nansheng and Lan Xinjie is one of the highlights of the show. It's a lot of guilt and obligation intertwined with genuine affection, and because it can't be The Love Story, it winds up being a very fraught, intimate friendship that lasts through the best and worst parts of both of their lives.

Also, everything she wears is stunning. Marry me, Miss Lan.

5. Makes you feel real smart!

Hey, nerds! Do you like history? Because boy oh boy, is this a show about history!

It's so much a show about history, in fact, that it occasionally has to break into little documentary-style interludes, where you get to watch pictures of actual historical footage while one of the cast members narrates a small summary of what's going on with the geopolitical situation at that moment. Everyone in the main cast is fictional, but there are plenty of real names dropped all over the place. You aren't expected to know everything already, but you're definitely expected to keep up.

I will admit that I don't know the ins and outs of that historical period well enough to fact-check a lot of the particulars, so I can't swear to the accuracy of its various smaller moves. I do know enough about it to know, though, that this story is a little biased.

And by that I mean: This show is propaganda through and through. It’s all about how well the Righteous Communists did in their battle first against the Terrible Japanese, then against the Wicked KMT (the non-Communist Nationalists). Characters give stirring declarations of their principles at a rate of about one every other episode. There’s a whole scene where two dudes sit on a park bench and talk animatedly about what a great and prescient writer Mao was. Be prepared to be serenaded by a number of (what I assume are) stirring Communist anthems.

This all has zero emotional resonance to me. There were several points I could tell it was making references to events and people and speeches that are surely real historical things, but I lack most of the cultural competency that I’d need to recognize them without explanation. The climactic moment of Lin Nansheng’s joining the Communists (this is not a spoiler, you know it’s coming from the get-go) mostly seemed goofy to me, especially with the closed-fist salute that looks like you’re about to punch yourself in the head.

See what I mean?

All of which is to say: The propaganda did not bother me, because I mostly found it abstract and funny. And for heaven's sake, I'm from the US; I learned how to laugh my way through unsubtle pro-government propaganda watching Saturday morning cartoons.

However, I can imagine people closer to these cultures and events having MUCH stronger reactions. If this is you, yeah, be careful.

What's kind of sad (and by sad I mean funny) is how much the blatant Communism! Fuck Yeah! just turns the show into the "How do you do, fellow kids?" of propaganda. If it had just told the story, it honestly would have done a better job of making the Communists seem like the cool underdogs against the overpowering forces of authoritarian jackassery. But when you have someone all but turn to the camera damn near every episode to make sure you, the viewer, know how good and noble and smart its brave communist characters are, it sure spoils the effect.

I honestly don't know enough about the production team to know how accidental or intentional this was. Is it possible the drama is actually subtly lampooning these hyper-patriotic tropes? Sure, maybe! Is it possible that it actually believes this cringe with all its heart? Could be! Is it maybe neutral on matters of personal belief but playing up this version of history to get the show approved by party censors during the 100th anniversary of the founding of the CCP? Ah, yeah, that's the most likely one. Believe what you want about its motivations. Those who are inclined to be moved by its ideologies probably will be. The rest of us, probably the opposite.

All that said: I actually think it's useful and good to hear obviously biased takes on historical events, especially from unfamiliar and non-western perspectives. This is because all takes on historical events are biased, and it's dangerous and stupid to pretend they're not! Looking at how someone tells a story is as instructive as looking at the story they tell. If you go into the Rebel with that in mind, it adds a meta-layer of interest that I (a historian) find fascinating.

Ready to watch, comrade?

This one's an iQiyi exclusive -- and it's not a VIP exclusive, so if you're willing to put up with some ads, you can watch it all for free.

This is a show I'm probably never going to watch all the way through again, on account of how heavy it is. However, it is also a show I'm very glad I watched, because I find myself thinking about it a lot. Even when it's being hokey and jingoistic, it never stops being interesting. It's just a well-made drama that contains multitudes.

And, of course, one of those is this beautiful man's beautiful face.

[aintgonnatakethis]

Writing Interview Tag!

Big thanks to @moltenwrites for the tag! I've seen this going around and was hoping to be tagged at some point. *rubs hands together* There'll be a readmore at the bottom with the templates for both desktop and mobile.

About me

When did you start writing?

Very young, around 5-6. I remember there was homework where the teacher gave everyone a list of words and asked us to write a sentence with each word. I would turn in a paragraph for each instead 😂 When I was 14 I was writing a lot of Doctor Who fic on FFnet (I can't believe that was 16 years ago 💀) and during the lockdown I started writing again for something to do.

Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?

I don't think so? Sorry, that's a really unsatisfying answer, I know. It's like when you're asked what your favourite book is and you instantly forget every book you've ever read 😂

Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?

Is this gonna be weird? Probably. Am I gonna fight through the anxiety anyway? Sure, you betcha! @septembriseur is one of the best writers I have ever had the pleasure of reading. Your Telford is second to none. Thank you.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Just sitting in my bed cradling my laptop. Despite only being 3 and a half years old it's got a whole host of things wrong with it, the most problematic being a loose connection somewhere inside the charging port. To be able to charge I have to sit in a very specific position and stay still, with a metal water bottle braced against the charging cable to keep it pushed in, another cable tied around it with an elastic band and hooked over the opposite side of the laptop. It's... honestly not the best lol. But it's a gaming laptop so getting it fixed would probably be expensive and I just don't have the money.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Am I allowed to say drugs? 😂 I'm prescribed ADHD meds and Pregabalin for anxiety, and they both help me focus enough to get words down on the page. I'd be pretty screwed without them tbh. I had an appointment with a doctor today and am getting an instant release ADHD medication added to my prescription as the extended release wears off by mid-to-late afternoon, so maybe I'll be able to get another daily writing session in when I take that!

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?

Hn. I want to say not really, but it must have influenced me in some way, right? Kids are sponges and will soak up and mimic the behaviours of the adults around them, and often people will reach adulthood with opinions and ideas that they don't even realise were created by an outside influence.

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?

QUEER! And no, it doesn't surprise me at all. 😂 I love writing about self-discovery, characters figuring out they can grow outside of the box society has built for them.

Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character?

So, uh, I'm just gonna link y'all here, where I ramble on about David Telford from Stargate Universe for fucking ages. He's in my brain spinning plates as we speak. (He never stops.)

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?

Well, in real life I wouldn't want to be friends with anyone in the military. While the US military is a special interest of mine because of Stargate, I am very aware that these characters are not realistic when compared to their real life counterparts. Realism in this area is one reason my favourite of the series is Universe, but even then these men aren't... Well, let's just say that - just like in politics - you don't get far in the military if you're a good person.

Which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?

😬😬😬 I mean, the fact they're dislikeable is part of the draw, ya know? I think irl-Young would suck absolute balls. 😂

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters?

Not super applicable as I'm a solely fandom writer, but the parts of the characters we're not given by the show come to me as I write, like puzzle pieces slotting into place. A good back-and-forth conversation is another excellent way to dig deep into them.

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?

QUEER! But being serious, I've given both Everett Young (SGU) and John Sheppard (SGA) intrusive thoughts...

My writing

What’s your reason for writing?

Escapism. Creativity. The characters are in my head screaming at me.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating?

Ooh, the long back-and-forth conversations! I'm here to talk endlessly about these little fucking blorbos and I will ramble about them to anyone!

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Taking this very seriously: a man. I know that fandom is typically a woman-dominated area and I've met quite a few other trans people through Stargate, but yeah. I know there are cultural differences with what are generally considered gender neutral terms around the world, but I do not want to ever be referred to as a girl or with woman-coded terms. I've had to fight hard to be able to be myself: man, dude, bro, there are a lot of choices.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Hmm... consistency? I set the New Year's resolution to write something every day in 2022. That year I missed 2 and half weeks because I had top surgery and while beforehand I thought 'awesome, I'll have plenty of time to write!' it turned out that recent wounds almost in my armpits makes it quite painful to move my arms... 🤔 In 2023 I wrote every day and so far I've kept that up in 2024. It's not always a lot of words, but it's always something.

What have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?

Characterisation. I've been told I've got my SGU boys (Telford, Young, and Rush) down to a tee.

How do you feel about your own writing?

There's a cycle where I look back at stuff I've written and compare it to what I'm currently writing and think 'this new stuff isn't as good', but in 3 months the stuff I'm currently writing will be what I think is good so... There are pieces I'm especially proud of, of course. If you'd allow me to plug for a moment, I think a memory, a distant echo is one of the best things I've ever written. Mind the tags though.

If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?

Yeah sure. I write primarily for myself so I don't see any reason why I'd stop. I wouldn't live long though lmao

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

First point of contact has to be with me, always. If something doesn't resonate with me, I can't write it. Forcing things is going to make writing unenjoyable and for me it's one of the most joyous things I do and I want to keep it that way. That said, if there's specific interest in a certain idea I have, that of course does motivate me. Feedback is the nectar of writers!

Tagging: @fortunatetragedy @bagheerita @frostysfrenzy @adriankyte-writes @frostedlemonwriter

@gioiaalbanoart @septembriseur @authorcoledipalo @anonmadsci @the-golden-comet + OPEN

@wolgerrswraith @chaniis-atlantis

About me

When did you start writing?

Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?

Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?

Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character?

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?

Which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters?

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?

How do you picture your characters?

My writing

What’s your reason for writing?

Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating?

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?

How do you feel about your own writing?

If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

About meWhen did you start writing?Are there different genres or themes you enjoy reading other than the ones you write?Is there an author you want to emulate, or are compared to often?can you tell me a bit about your writing space? What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and/or places you write about?Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing? If so, do they surprise you?Characters: would you please tell me about your current favorite character? Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?which characters would you dislike the most of you met them?Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters? Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?How do you picture your characters? My writing: what’s your reason for writing?Is there any specific comment or type of comment from readers that you find particularly motivating? How do you want to be thought about by your readers?What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?have you been told is your greatest strength as a writer is by others?How do you feel about your own writing?If you were the last person on earth, would you still write?When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, do you write purely for yourself, or is it a mix of both?

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part thirty-one: "The Flight to Chicago"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Matt accompanies you on his first ever flight to meet your family for Thanksgiving tomorrow.

Or

Matt has a really, really bad time.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3k

a/n: This installment is a hurt/comfort piece involving Matt having a really bad time flying to Chicago with Reader. With his senses, realistically I don't think Matt could handle airports and flying all that well. You can find the entire list of installments for this series on tumblr here. Enjoy!

The Airport

Eyes closed, your head rested along the top of Matt’s. You were currently sitting in the packed terminal for your flight at the airport; it was even more crowded than usual because of Thanksgiving tomorrow. Matt had been trying to relax by focusing on your scent and your heartbeat as he rested his head along your shoulder, his face buried against your neck. You’d managed to get him through checking in and checking your shared bag, along with the entire pain-in-the-ass experience that is airport security, but he had been struggling the moment you’d even neared the airport. The moment you’d both gotten out of the taxi he was already putting in the noise-reducing ear plugs.

So far, everything had gone about as horribly as you’d expected despite you researching air travel for someone who is blind and dealing with overstimulation ahead of time to help prepare the both of you. Matt was still doing his best to put a tight-lipped smile on his face because he clearly wanted to meet your family, but internally you felt horrible for even letting him convince you to try flying. You were completely positive you’d have to rent a car and drive home for Christmas if Matt was still open to coming with you based solely on your experience just in the airport. Despite him putting on a smile, as strained as you knew it was, you could tell this was torture to him and you hadn’t even gotten to the actual flight yet. All you wanted to do was apologize, but you figured you’d wait to profusely accomplish that until you were in the rental car and far away from the airport so that he wouldn’t try to take on your guilt with everything else going on. Because you knew he would. 

You were also hoping he’d appreciate the surprise Airbnb you’d rented–you figured you’d rent a condo instead of booking a hotel. It was cheaper, but the main reason was that there were vastly less people around than in a hotel, and with the way Matt had struggled at Marci and Foggy’s wedding, you’d figured he’d appreciate it. You had also chosen an evening flight on purpose, giving your family the excuse that you and Matt would be too tired from flying and settling into your Airbnb to visit this evening, when really the excuse was so Matt had a breather after this whole ordeal. And you were glad you’d done that, because you could already tell he needed it.

Thankfully the noise-reducing ear plugs you’d gotten him had helped muffle some of the extra noise of the airport without completely cutting off that sense entirely on him. He’d been extremely grateful for them when you’d gotten them in the mail; you’d tested them out with him at a grocery store a couple of times last weekend and during the week to see how well they would work. He’d actually managed to go an entire grocery trip stocking his apartment with a smile on his face. The sight had made your heart feel so full it was ready to burst. 

Matt shifted along your shoulder, burying his nose further into your neck. Raising your hand on the arm you had encircling his shoulders and holding him to you, you carefully began to stroke his hair. You heard and felt the little vibration in his throat that came in response.

“Is this okay?” you asked softly. “Or is it too much right now?”

“No, feels good,” he murmured.

Smiling, you continued to stroke his hair as your eyes opened, scanning the airport terminal around you. Your focus eventually landed on one of the nearby screens; your flight would be boarding in about five minutes and because of Matt’s disability, the pair of you would get to board before the other passengers. You hoped that would make the process less of a pain without having to navigate him around multiple other people trying to stuff their carry-ons in the overhead compartment. 

For the next five minutes you continued to absently stroke Matt’s hair with your eyes fixed on the nearby screen. Time felt like it was moving slower than usual. You just wanted to get the flight over with for Matt’s sake. Pretending you were fine and trying to keep your body calm so as not to alarm Matt had been taking a toll on you already, too.

“You still doing okay?” you asked him.

He nodded his head along your shoulder. “Focusing on you helps,” he whispered. 

“You need anything?” you asked next, noticing the flight attendant at the gate looking ready to begin pre-boarding.

Matt only shook his head against you. Your eyes were on the flight attendant, watching as she set the phone she’d been speaking on down. A moment later you watched as she made an announcement to in fact begin pre-boarding. 

“And that would be us,” you told Matt.

Both of you rose to your feet, Matt beside you quickly unfolding his cane as you pulled both of your tickets out. You placed Matt’s hand on your bicep, mentally noting the very tight grip he had on your arm which only made you feel guiltier for asking him to come with, and led the pair of you towards the flight attendant. She greeted the both of you brightly, scanning your tickets before asking if you needed any extra assistance. After you’d assured her that you didn’t, you led Matt down the short little hallway that led to the plane. His grip tightened further.

“It’s loud,” Matt told you.

“You want the noise canceling headphones, too?” you asked. “I kept them in my purse, just in case.”

“Yeah,” he answered quickly.

You paused, taking a moment to unzip your bag before shuffling a few items around. Eventually you found them and pulled them out, placing them on Matt’s head for him. The corner of his lip twitched faintly upwards, but you could still see that pained expression stretched across his face even with his glasses on. As you began to lead him to the plane again, you had a sinking feeling in your gut that this would be a terrible experience.

Thirty Minutes into the Flight

Matt had been sitting extremely motionless beside you ever since he’d buckled in before take-off. You could see his eyes were clamped firmly shut behind his dark glasses, his fingers white-knuckling the two armrests beside him as he sat rigidly in the chair. His jaw was clenched, occasionally a muscle twitching in it.

You’d given him the window seat for a bit of privacy as he struggled through the flight, and you were glad your side of the airplane only had two seat rows. If you’d had to deal with some older woman telling you all about her grandchildren that she was on her way to see for Thanksgiving, like the woman who was currently two rows behind you talking so loud it was as if she was behind you, you’d have probably gone insane. Your stress was already through the roof as you chewed your bottom lip, but you were trying to rein it in. You didn’t want Matt to pick up on it; he was already having a hard enough time. 

With a frustrated sigh, you tried to focus on your breathing. It was only a two hour and forty minute flight. You’d both survive and then you’d get Matt out of O’Hare airport as fast as you could. And you would never let him talk you into flying again.

Sixty Minutes into the Flight

You’d been chewing on your thumbnail for the past fifteen minutes, your own nerves gnawing away at your stomach. Focus switching either between Matt’s still stiff-as-a-board rigid posture in his seat or the window just beside him, you hadn’t had much to do. You’d brought earbuds to listen to music you had downloaded onto your phone as a just-in-case scenario, but you didn’t want to make it so you couldn’t hear if Matt needed something. And you were honestly too on edge to even settle down and listen to music at the moment. 

A tentative hand on your shoulder caused you to jump in your seat. Whirling your head around, you saw one of the flight attendants shooting you a compassionate smile.

“Do either of you need anything?” she asked, her eyes darting to Matt. “Is there anything I could do to help make him more comfortable?”

Shooting her a strained smile in response, you shook your head. “No, we’re good. It’s his first time flying,” you explained to her. “He’s just having a hard time with all the loud noises and smells. He’s uh, just a little extra sensitive to that.”

A sympathetic expression washed over her face as she glanced at Matt beside you. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she replied. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know. We’re at least almost halfway into the flight and the weather is holding up so we should at least be making good time.” 

“Thank you,” you said politely.

She sent you one last smile before she continued her way down the aisle. You went back to chewing your nail and staring at Matt.

Ninety Minutes into the Flight

Matt’s hand had slid over to your thigh, no longer gripping the armrest but now your flesh through your jeans. It was such a tight grip that you were certain you’d have a bruise later, but you didn’t really mind. Slowly you reached your hand down your leg, carefully placing it over the top of his. His hand almost instantly turned upwards, his fingers entwining themselves with yours. 

Your eyes caught sight of Matt’s head turning towards you out of your peripheral and you turned to look back at him. He shot you a pinched smile and you gently squeezed his hand. Gradually, so as not to startle him since he was most likely a little disoriented with the noise canceling headphones on, you drew your enjoined hands up towards your lips. As you placed a soft, lingering kiss to the back of his hand, you swore you saw a few creases of worry ease from his face.

You returned your enjoined hands back to your lap. Beside you, Matt shifted in his seat, his eyes closing behind the dark glasses again as he resumed his rigid posture in the seat.

One-Hundred and Twenty Minutes into the Flight

A few minutes ago you’d raised the armrest between the pair of you, allowing Matt to practically wrap part of himself over the side of your body. His face was currently buried in your neck, both of his hands holding onto yours like a lifeline. Your head was resting atop of his, eyes blankly staring out of the window beside him as you willed time to pass faster. There was a cramp forming in your lower back and your ass was starting to go numb, but your worry over Matt was still taking top priority at the forefront of your mind. You were ready for this flight to be over.

With the both of you practically cuddled up together in your seats like you were, you would occasionally shift your head and affectionately kiss the top of Matt’s, trying to offer him some form of comfort. Every time you did, you’d feel his own mouth from where it was burrowed against your neck place a returning kiss to the skin beside his lips. Each time it made you smile, but the guilt for having him fly with you was still roiling in your gut. 

At least there was only forty minutes left.

One-Hundred and Sixty Minutes into the Flight

The plane was thankfully beginning its descent to the ground, your eyes excitedly taking in the sight of O’Hare airport out of the airplane window. Everything was quickly becoming larger and larger the closer to the airport runway the plane became. 

Matt had been shifting uncomfortably in his seat once the plane had initially begun its descent; he’d asked you a minute ago if you were landing and you’d told him yes–more like, relied on holding his hand along your cheek and nodding as you’d done the time you’d found him disoriented in a dumpster because he couldn’t hear you. He seemed incredibly anxious to get off of the plane and you didn’t even remotely blame him. You were ready to get off the plane yourself, eager to grab your checked bag and pick up the rental car and leave O’Hare airport far, far behind the pair of you. The sooner you got onto the road towards where you would be staying tonight, the sooner Matt could hopefully begin to relax.

After a few minutes, when the plane had finished taxiing and eventually come to a stop, you’d kept your eyes glued to the flight attendants. The exact moment the woman you’d spoken to earlier had come to let you and Matt unboard first, you were quickly patting Matt’s thigh and unbuckling his seatbelt. Then you dove forward for his cane and your purse in the seat compartment before you before grabbing his hand and guiding him as quickly as you could off of the plane and into the airport. You were determined to make this your fastest exit from O’Hare yet.

Leaving the Airport

Closing the trunk lid of the rental car, having just placed the large bag of luggage inside, your hands remained on it for a minute as you tried to catch your breath. Matt had already gotten into the car, his posture looking a little less tense now that you were both about to be away from all of the noise and smells. He’d pulled off the headphones shortly after getting off of the plane, but the noise-reducing ear plugs were still in his ears.

With a sigh, you headed towards the driver’s side of the car, opening the door and settling in. Starting it up, you left the radio off and remained silent, trying to give Matt a break from extra and unnecessary stimulation as you began navigating your way out of the parking garage. 

Your eyes were focused on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel tight as you eventually and finally made your way away from the airport. You had about a forty minute drive to get to the condo you’d rented out near your parent’s house–as long as traffic wasn’t too terrible. But with every mile closer, you felt the tension almost palpably reducing between the pair of you. 

It was probably fifteen minutes into your driving when you noticed Matt shifting in his seat beside you. Taking a curious glance, you noticed him pulling the ear plugs out and placing them in his coat pocket. You bit your lip, fighting the urge to speak. You weren’t sure if you were just overthinking and being extra sensitive to his needs, but you were afraid to initiate conversation with him after that until he seemed ready.

Which apparently was another five minutes later.

“That was definitely not an enjoyable experience,” Matt said, breaking the silence in the car.

“I’m sorry, Matt,” you quickly began apologizing in a rush. “I had a feeling it would be awful for you, that’s why I kept assuring you that you didn’t have to come with or that we didn’t need to fly. I’m so so sorry. It’s all my fault. If you want me to rent a car and drive us back I’m sure I can get Ellison to give me an extra day.”

“Sweetheart,” Matt cut in, “relax. Neither of us exactly knew what to expect and now we do. I’ll manage the flight back, but I…definitely don’t plan to fly again.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized again.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Matt said gently. “Now uh, are we checking into the hotel and then stopping by your parents’ place? So I can…mentally prepare for all of that?” he asked hesitantly.

You shook your head, eyes still focused on the road as you continued to drive. “No, actually,” you began. “I sort of figured you’d need time to decompress after flying. That’s why I booked an evening flight–I used it as an excuse for us to not stop in and visit tonight so you wouldn’t have to jump straight into meeting everyone and making conversation. I figured you’d want a break.” You cleared your throat briefly before telling him, “And I didn’t book a hotel, I rented a condo. Through Airbnb. It had a ton of great reviews and I was searching for something that wasn’t in a huge building. I uh, I remember how hard staying in the hotel had been for you at Foggy and Marci’s wedding so I was hoping a condo might be less…stimulating? Because there wouldn’t be as many people or fluorescent lights buzzing and elevators moving at all hours of the night. And employees up and talking all night long.” You licked your lips anxiously before adding, “I hope that’s okay?”

Nervously you glanced over your shoulder at Matt; he was staring back at you with a warm smile that was gradually overtaking his face. Your stomach squirmed at the sight as you focused back on the road.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he said, the compliment drawing heat to your cheeks. “Even though flying was not a pleasant experience, you have done so much trying to make me comfortable. Trying to anticipate my needs. Even–even going so far as to book something other than a hotel with my senses in mind? Making sure I had time to unwind after this entire experience before meeting your family?” he said, sounding almost in awe. 

“I just–just wanted you to be comfortable,” you muttered. “I know you hate leaving Hell’s Kitchen. I know it makes you nervous. And I know flying was something you were also nervous about.” 

His large palm landed on your thigh, the heat of it soaking through your jeans. “If you weren’t driving right now, I’d kiss you,” Matt stated.

Lowering a hand off of the steering wheel, you carefully grabbed onto his. “Give me another twenty-five minutes, Matty,” you told him. “Then I’m all yours to kiss.”

You caught the smile that slid onto his mouth, a matching one quickly slipping its way onto your own.

[kyusunyu]

SUNWOO ↳ “𝕺𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖚𝖕𝖔𝖓 𝖆 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊”

a TBZ frat boyz series.

kim sunwoo x f!reader :: ex lovers/soulmate tropes

warnings: some explicit content 👀, hardly smutty. lots of feels though. (rough edit)

𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔞 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔞 𝔥𝔬𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔠𝔠𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔪 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔡𝔦𝔤𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴-𝔦𝔱-𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔪𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔬𝔫’𝔰 𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔰 𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔫…

“Bite me.”

you were a realist.

far from delusional,

even if the stars aligned on a full moon night.

nothing could convince you to believe that a frat party would be a hell of a good time.

“I have too much shit.” you annunciate, yeeting a pencil in your best friend’s general direction. “Ask Mina. I’m sure she’d find sweaty people and an uncanny amount of booze fun.”

your model of a roommate sulks.

bummed you weren’t like the rest of the girls around here.

like who in their right mind would decline an invite to the biggest frat house in SK?

“Leave it to you to pass on a good time. Boo, tomatoes.”

you send her a merciless smile. “I feel less of a detriment to society this way. Have you seen me in anything other than sweats and a hoodie? It takes effort to look as good as you. Effort I cannot spare for myself.”

“Talk about dramatic.”

dramatics aside,

there was nothing that could possibly be done to drag you out of this dorm room and into the pits of hell called TBZ.

that godforsaken frathood might drive you off a cliff.

you’ll give them the benefit of the doubt.

they were far from hideous— a sight for sore eyes really.

intelligent, sociable, and athletic.

all 11 of them.

even if 2 happened to be both your exes.

once upon a time..

“Well, i’m leaving.” the gorgeous red head flips her hair, model figure hugged in the little black dress she sported. “If i’m not back by morning, send a search party. I love you! Don’t study too hard my little book worm.”

yes.

there were some perks to being roommates and best friend’s with your polar opposite.

a stable social life.

free clothes.

and invites to the biggest parties?

too bad you hardly found any of those to be useful to you.

“Hello?”

“Y/n?” her voice sounds irritated, slightly slurred and strained against the echoing music of the party. “Y/n, can you come get me? Fuck— these people are losers. I’m drunk.”

you grimace.

she’s upset.

it’s only midnight and of all people—

Taeri was upset.

“Did something happen?” you mumble sleepily, sitting up to turn on a light. “Are you okay? DId someone hurt you?”

too drunk to process the question, she groans. “Will you just please come and get me? I feel like I’m gonna explode.”

“O-okay, just give me a couple—“

the call flat lines.

great.

the day has finally come that the stars aligned on a full moon night.

albeit, you still didn’t think the frat party was gonna be a good time,

but i guess you’ll bite.

it didn’t take long to wash up a little, whipping out one of Taeri’s hand me down’s.

10 minutes longer and you had your liner drawn and a simple red tint to your velvet lips.

you absolutely dreaded having to face the day you’d ever come to this—

a strapless top, tight jeans and mid height high heels.

but you had some class.

you weren’t gonna be a detriment to society by showing up in half ass pj’s.

“Hey.”

the hottie by the door makes a double take.

“H-hello.”

your forehead creases, eyes looking into the still much alive party. “Aren’t you gonna ask for my name, pretty boy?”

pretty boy doesn’t respond.

honestly, too stunned to answer.

because god damn.

god damn—

“Damnit.” Eric blinks furiously, wiping at his shirt upon spilling some of his drink. “Sorry, name?”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n, you’re on the list— Y/n?”

at this point, he’s completely disregarded his drink.

the rest spilling all over his thousand dollar shoes.

“Y/n.” you affirm with a slight chuckle. “Taeri called. Is she alright?”

no, of course she’s not.

the sole reason for her coming, being her ex boyfriend who happens to live here—

who undoubtedly was the cause of the phone call in the first place

“Well all hell hasn’t broke loose yet.” Eric manages to make it through a sentence. “You don’t normally come to these things, don’t you? Taeri said you’re not much of a party goer.”

“Great observation, pretty boy. I was summoned. If Taeri wasn’t in trouble, why’d she call me then?”

he aimlessly shrugs. “Hyunjae hasn’t touched your hot model bestie all night. I mean Sunwoo’s back in town so maybe—“

oh god.

OH MY GOD.

fucking hell on earth.

“Hey, didn’t you and Sunwoo—“

“No I don’t know a Sunwoo.” he elicits a pressed panicked grin by you. “And Sunwoo doesn’t know me. Are we understanding each other? Do I make myself clear, pretty boy.”

the pretty boy grins back. “Fucking crystal.”

you pray to the stars in the sky to disarrange.

you pray for anything but the storm that brews ahead.

you pray for the sake of your roommate,

that this was nothing but a coincidence.

“— that Sunwoo’s back in town, can you believe it?”

you refrain from putting that stranger into a chokehold.

wanting nothing but to be home in your covers.

you’re no cinderella but,

it’s past your damn bedtime.

“Where the fuck is she?” you mumble to yourself incoherently, searching the heavily intoxicated crowd for your best friend.

leave it to her to make you the damn search party.

these heels were killing you.

but those heels on you weren’t just killing you,

it was killing everyone else too.

“You won’t believe who just walked in.” Eric came back to his group of troublemakers, kissing his lips through a devious smirk. “God damn, you won’t believe me when I tell you. Who just walked through our fucking doors.”

Sunwoo’s a little less interested.

tired is a simple word to describe his current attitude.

he just got back into town, man.

it’s been a stressful week for him.

the last thing he wants to deal with was Eric’s crazed nonsense.

Hyunjae’s shoulder’s perk from on top of the counter. “If you’re talking about my god forsaken ex again, we’ve already crossed paths. Like fourth party in a row.”

“Not your ex.”

Eric’s feverish.

he’s only heard about the legend of y/n.

the closed-off maths geek Sunwoo had a boner for freshman year.

the hardly qualified best friend of the hottest model on campus.

“But she’s so fucking hot though.” Eric dreamily drools, nodding from the corner in which they gather. “She’s drop dead gorgeous, Sunwoo. How could a star soccer player like you, drop a once in a lifetime shot like that?”

“What the fuck are you on about, you— you’re kidding.”

the star soccer player can’t remember the last time he saw you.

well, to be fair, the last time he saw you,

you were in an oversized hoodie, worn-in sneakers, and sweats doubled your size.

now people are expecting him to believe his ex girlfriend stalked the halls of his house—

in stunning Louboutins nonetheless.

leather tight top hiked too far up the stomach, cleavage half out and bed hair making you look like a 5-star Michelin.

those heels.

the heels are killing him on you, he doesn’t know what to do.

“You’re fucking kidding.” Juyeon jumps from his seat, the rest of the males following suit like a pack of hungry wolves. “That’s her?”

Sangyeon whistles at all that. “I’ll be damned.”

Sunwoo can’t say a thing.

nope.

he’s not allowed to.

leave it to you to sweep the entire party of their feet right after he did.

“Taeri!” you call, unbeknownst to the lingering eyes around you. “Taeri, where are you!”

your heels click at the tiles,

excusing yourself in the crowd like the prim you are.

noting to run as soon as you find,

“Kim Sunwoo.”

your breath’s taken away.

haphazard and eyes blown out of their sockets.

you can’t run if he’s the one that finds you.

“Sunwoo, I—“

he doesn’t let you manage even a word.

clearly won’t let you say a thing.

not that you weren’t allowed to.

after all,

he’s the one that got away.

“Not you.” you tear his hands from tugging on your wrists. “Of anyone in this damn frat house, not you, Kim Sunwoo. I want absolutely nothing to do with you.”

leave it to Sunwoo to look at you like the mad man he is.

the hot shot playboy of IST,

this was your sumptuous ex boyfriend.

your only ex boyfriend.

“— the last thing I want to see. Get away from me.”

his eyes roll and he pins you to the wall of his bedroom,

making sure to lock the door behind you.

“The last thing I want to see is my beloved ex girlfriend showing up half naked at one of my frat parties. But life’s unfair isn’t it?”

he elicits a pitiful snort and you dare yourself to retort back. “The thought never bothered you before when you begged me to be your damn side piece, once upon a time.”

“Once upon a time, you were mine. Let me make myself very clear, you were my girl. And right now, I don’t get that luxury— i’m not allowed to call you that.”

“If you’re looking for permission, you’re far from it. I’m not here for you, i’m here for Taeri.”

Sunwoo’s never liked that girl.

always trying to get you to wear the skankiest clothes.

present you like a centerpiece.

taking you whenever she wanted.

(she had her work cut for her)

when all he wanted was you all to himself.

“Trying to prove yourself by being hotter than her?”

you pry his body off of you,

heated.

absolutely heated you could explode.

“Trying to prove myself by not being a damn joke. Isn’t that what I was to you, once upon a time Kim Sunwoo? The reason you dropped me because I could never prove myself to be the girlfriend in Kim Sunwoo’s hot fucking life.”

his chest rises and falls as fast as his blood boils.

he always loved firing you up.

you were so hot, he couldn’t tell you why.

but he always wanted to strip you out of your oversized clothes and get you completely naked anyway.

the thrill of seeing you naked being a blessing in disguise.

right now,

you were already half way there.

“I loved you.”

“Loved me?” you laugh incredulously. “The sex was good but other than that, what can you say you loved about me? Other than lying to my face, nearly ripping out my hair, telling me your cock only belonged to me? But digging it inside other women like that didn’t matter at all.”

he’s taken by surprise.

that dirty mouth of yours.

he’s been needing a stress relief.

and suddenly, he’s not that stressed about any of his circumstances.

especially the ones he faces right now.

in fact, he’s more laxed than he’s ever been in his entire life.

“Still thinking about my cock, are you?”

“Yours and 5 others, baby. It stopped being all about—“

his lips crash against yours and the wall is suddenly your best friend.

so much for Taeri—

god, Kim Sunwoo was just so irresistible.

“You.” he growls into your lips while ripping off his shirt. “It’s always been all about you, hasn’t it?”

an arduous moan escapes your tethered lips,

melting in the hands of your inconceivable ex boyfriend.

“Im gonna make those 5 others look like training wheels, baby. I’m going to make sure you know who you belong to.”

it’s been 2 years.

you weren’t gonna wallow over your breakup with Sunwoo forever.

yes, you’ve slept with other people but damn.

other people will never be Kim Sunwoo.

“I won’t even have to beg for you to be my side piece when i’m finished with you.”

Taeri and Hyunjae were fine.

Taeri was upset but hey,

Hyunjae beat you to it anyway.

while Sunwoo’s beating into you,

Taeri stops to look at her ex, “Have you seen y/n? She said she was gonna come get me.”

Taeri’s never really liked Sunwoo for you either.

he was always possessive.

always center of fucking attention.

too big and mighty for her little know it all.

but god damn.

if there was anyone who made you happier than she’s ever seen you,

it was that poor unfortunate soul.

“She’s gonna eat him alive.” Taeri chuckles with her hand on her ex’s lap. “Poor thing, y/n’s balled up her anger for him for years. You think he’s gonna be okay?”

that was the thrill of you, you know.

always one step ahead of everyone else,

Sunwoo had to put a leash on you.

he was so tired of chasing,

“You’ve let go, Sunwoo.” you’re hyperventilating over his broad chest. “Where’s all that control you had now?”

you were gonna be the death of him.

he had to juggle loving you, paying the frat, his soccer career—

“I’m sorry.”

3 rounds later and Sunwoo’s spent.

ravishing in your beauty,

the yearning of something he didn’t think he needed in a long time.

you made him the happiest man alive once upon a time.

“I don’t deserve you.”

3 rounds later and you were convinced.

ravishing in his warmth and comfort—

you haven’t felt this content in a long time.

“You deserved all of me.”

you loved him.

god you loved him and you don’t know how to stop.

2 years later and he’s still the man you love.

“I loved your wide smile. I craved your touch. I wanted your attention every damn day and you deserved every minute of having me. I loved everything about you, Kim Sunwoo. But you made that decision to let me go a long time ago.”

he kisses the places your tears stain,

fingers shakily threading through your now long hair.

“I was tired of convincing myself all of that were true. Tell me, baby. What else did you love about me?”

you catch your breath, nose brushed against his.

“Your eyes. Your nose. Your dick.”

his throaty laugh fills your ears like music on christmas morning. “What else, baby?”

you lean in, humming against his cheek.

eyes shut in absolute bliss.

remembering the subtle scent of bergamot and sage that stained his skin.

“Your lips? The way they move when you kiss me. How they feel when you tell me you love me.”

his arms clasp around your hips.

high on your euphoria with you pressed against him like this.

the stars were in his favor tonight.

perfectly aligned in the sky when he finally tells you,

“I love you.”

you’re convinced he’s joking.

you have to convince yourself he was making you a joke.

but Sunwoo holds you like he’s gonna lose you.

afraid you were gonna let go.

“I’ll never deserve you but i’ll love you for the rest of my life if I have to in order to convince myself I do.”

“What do you love about me, Kim Sunwoo?”

the full moon is in your favor.

illuminating the room just enough to meet his colorful eyes.

just enough color to remember how he looked at you once upon a time.

“That you’ll be the only girl that I get to love in my entire life. I don’t want to be with anyone else but you, baby. Not even if the stars start crossing in the sky.”

you a side piece?

hardly.

no, Kim Sunwoo never left your side.

he was like an overbearing parasite,

only having to move elsewhere when he wanted to be on top.

or when he kneels in front of you to ask you to be his wife.

and to think he would’ve had to beg once upon a time.

@kyusunyu / @kpopinesss / @atinybitofau