#like what world are you living in I genuinely want to know

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[s4kura-tr3]

the jjk men reaction to their wife without their wedding ring ?

Gojo satoru — Gojo Satoru strolled into the living room, humming a cheerful tune as he casually twirled his sunglasses between his fingers. It was a rare moment of downtime for both of you, and he had been looking forward to lounging around with his beloved wife. His sharp eyes, however, immediately zeroed in on you, sprawled out on the couch with your phone in one hand and your other hand resting lazily on the armrest.

At first, he didn’t notice it. But as his gaze lingered—because, honestly, you looked stunning even in sweatpants—it hit him. Something was… missing.

His blue eyes narrowed slightly, and the grin on his face turned into a playful smirk. He crossed the room and plopped down dramatically next to you, making the couch shift slightly.

“Darling,” he began in a tone dripping with mock severity, leaning closer to you as if he had discovered the secret to the universe.

You glanced up briefly, raising an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for your left hand, gently lifting it as if it were a delicate artifact. He examined it closely, turning it this way and that. That’s when he saw it. Or rather, didn’t see it.

“Oh. My. God.” he gasped, clutching your hand with both of his. “Where is it? Where’s the ring? Our ring?” His voice escalated into a melodramatic pitch, and he looked at you as though you’d just committed the ultimate betrayal.

You blinked at him, utterly unbothered. “I took it off while I was washing the dishes earlier. I forgot to put it back on. Relax, Gojo.”

But Gojo wasn’t about to let it go. He sprang to his feet, one hand pressed to his chest as if your words had physically wounded him. “Forgot? You forgot the symbol of our eternal, unbreakable love?” He pointed dramatically at your bare ring finger. “Do you know what this says to the world? That I, Gojo Satoru, am unclaimed! Unwanted! A free agent!”

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “Satoru, nobody in the world thinks you’re unclaimed. You’re too loud for that.”

But he wasn’t listening. He began pacing back and forth in front of you, gesturing wildly. “Do you realize how many people out there are just waiting for a moment like this? They’ll think I’m single! Do you want people throwing themselves at me?” He spun around, his eyes wide with mock horror. “What if Nanami hears about this? Or worse, Gojo’s fan club?!”

That finally got a laugh out of you. “You have a fan club?”

“Of course I do,” he said, puffing his chest out. “I’m Gojo Satoru. But that’s not the point!” He dropped back onto the couch beside you, leaning in close so that his face was mere inches from yours. His eyes, bright and intense as always, locked onto yours. “The point is, you, my dearest, most beautiful wife, have forgotten our sacred bond. And I, as your loving husband, must now remind you why you married me.”

Before you could protest, he scooped you up in his arms as if you weighed nothing. You let out a startled yelp, laughing despite yourself. “Satoru, what are you doing?”

“I’m making sure you never forget again,” he said with a grin that could melt anyone’s heart.

He spun you around once, his laughter mingling with yours. You tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held you firm, his warm hands steady and strong.

“Put me down, you lunatic!”

“Not until you swear to never, ever leave your wedding ring behind again,” he said, his voice playful but with a hint of mock sternness.

“Okay, fine!” you managed between laughs. “I swear! I won’t forget again!”

Satisfied, he set you back down on the couch, but not before brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face and planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Good,” he said, his tone shifting to that softer, more genuine one he reserved just for you. He sat back, crossing his arms as if he’d just won an important battle. “By the way,” he added, smirking, “your wedding ring is on the counter by the sink. You’re welcome.”

You groaned, throwing a pillow at him. “You knew this whole time and still made a scene?”

“Of course I did,” he said, catching the pillow effortlessly and flashing you a smug grin. “What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t take every opportunity to shower my wife with attention?”

You rolled your eyes again, but the warmth spreading in your chest betrayed how much you adored him—dramatics and all.

Geto Suguru — It was late in the afternoon, the golden light from the setting sun spilling through the windows of your quiet home. You were seated at the kitchen table, sipping tea while flipping through a book. The peaceful silence was interrupted by the soft sound of Suguru’s footsteps as he entered the room, his long, dark hair tied loosely behind him, and his expression calm as always.

“Hmm,” he hummed as his sharp eyes immediately noticed you. His lips curved into a faint smile. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” you replied with a playful grin, not looking up from your book

He walked over to you and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. Everything about Suguru exuded calm, but there was something sharp about his gaze as he straightened, his attention drawn to your left hand resting on the table.

“Where’s your ring?” he asked, his tone casual but with a slight edge of curiosity.

You blinked, glancing at your hand. “Oh,” you said, realizing the absence of the small band. “I took it off earlier while I was washing the dishes. I must’ve forgotten to put it back on.”

Suguru’s expression didn’t change much, but there was a faint flicker of something in his dark eyes—amusement, perhaps. He moved to the chair across from you and sat down, resting his chin on his hand as he regarded you.

“Forgotten, hm?” he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

You tilted your head, sensing the subtle shift in his mood. “It’s not a big deal, Suguru,” you said, brushing it off.

His smile widened ever so slightly, though there was a teasing glint in his eyes. “Not a big deal? My wife walking around without a ring, making it look like she’s unmarried? How scandalous.”

You snorted, closing your book and setting it aside. “Oh, please. Nobody is going to think I’m unmarried, Suguru.”

“Hmm,” he hummed again, his gaze locking with yours. “Perhaps not. But it’s the principle, isn’t it?” He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. His thumb brushed over your bare ring finger in slow, deliberate strokes. “This little band means something, doesn’t it? A reminder of the vows we made.”

You rolled your eyes, though his touch was warm and soothing. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Maybe,” he said, his tone still even, though the faint smile on his lips betrayed his amusement. “But I quite like seeing you wear it. It suits you.”

“Well, it’s sitting on the counter,” you admitted. “I just forgot to put it back on.”

Suguru sighed softly, standing up from his chair and walking to the kitchen counter. He picked up your ring, holding it delicately between his fingers before turning back to you. His movements were always deliberate, almost graceful, as he returned to your side and crouched down next to you.

“Hold out your hand,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

You quirked an eyebrow at him but complied, holding out your hand. Suguru took it carefully, his fingers warm against yours.

“You know,” he began as he slipped the ring back onto your finger, “this little thing is more than just a piece of metal. It’s a claim, a promise, and a reminder of the fact that you belong to me, just as I belong to you.”

His words were soft but carried a weight that sent a shiver down your spine. When the ring was back in its rightful place, Suguru raised your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles

“There,” he murmured. “That’s better.”

You shook your head, your cheeks warm. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he said with a smirk, standing back up to his full height. “But I’m your ridiculous.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrayed how much his little gestures meant to you. Suguru wasn’t always loud in his affections, but moments like this reminded you of just how deeply he cared for you—and how much he loved to remind you of it.

Nanami kento — The quiet hum of the apartment greeted Nanami as he stepped inside, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly now that he was home. He loosened his tie as he glanced around, his sharp eyes immediately landing on you sitting at the dining table, your laptop open and a mug of tea beside you.

“Welcome home,” you said, looking up with a smile.

“Good evening,” he replied, his voice calm and steady as always. He moved toward you, setting his briefcase down with practiced precision before leaning in to kiss your temple. “Busy day?”

“Not really,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “I spent most of it cleaning and catching up on emails.”

Nanami nodded, his gaze briefly scanning the room before settling on you. As you reached for your mug, his brow furrowed slightly.

“Where’s your ring?” he asked suddenly, his tone even but with a hint of curiosity.

You froze for a moment, glancing at your hand. Your wedding ring was missing from its usual place, and you let out a small laugh as you realized. “Oh, I took it off earlier when I was cleaning. I guess I forgot to put it back on.”

Nanami’s expression remained calm, but you noticed the slight tightening of his jaw. He pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, resting his hands on the table.

“I see,” he said quietly, his gaze dropping to your hand again.

You tilted your head, sensing his hesitation. “It’s not a big deal, Kento,” you said lightly. “I’ll go grab it in a second.”

He sighed softly, his eyes meeting yours. “It’s not that I doubt you,” he said, his voice calm but carrying a subtle weight. “It’s just… that ring isn’t just an accessory to me.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”

Nanami reached across the table, gently taking your hand in his. His thumb brushed over the bare spot where your ring should have been. “It’s a symbol,” he said after a moment. “Of us. Of everything we’ve chosen to share. When I see it on your finger, it’s a quiet reassurance that, no matter how chaotic things get, we have something solid.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt a pang of guilt mixed with affection. Nanami wasn’t one to dramatize things, but his quiet honesty carried more weight than anything else ever could

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” you said softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’m not worried,” he replied, shaking his head slightly. “I know where we stand. But… seeing it missing felt strange. Like something wasn’t quite right.”

Your lips curved into a warm smile. “You’re such a sentimentalist, you know that?”

He exhaled through his nose, his expression softening as he gave you a faint smile. “I’d argue I’m just practical. But if it makes me a sentimentalist to care about something that reminds me of you, then so be it.”

You chuckled, standing up and leaning down to kiss his cheek. “I’ll go grab it now. I don’t want you to feel off balance.”

As you walked to the kitchen to retrieve your ring from the small dish by the sink, you couldn’t help but feel touched by how deeply he cared about even the smallest details.

When you returned, the ring back on your finger, Nanami’s eyes immediately dropped to your hand. He gave a small, approving nod and reached for your hand again.

“Much better,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the ring.

You sat down beside him this time, leaning into his solid presence. “You know, Kento, you’re a lot more romantic than you like to admit.”

He huffed softly, his lips curving into the faintest smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, resting his hand over yours.

Toji fushiguro— The heavy thud of boots echoed through the entryway as Toji walked into the house, his presence impossible to miss. You looked up from the couch where you were scrolling on your phone, catching the sharp glint of his green eyes as he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a nearby chair.

“Hey, you’re back early,” you said with a smile, sitting up as he crossed the room toward you.

He gave a small grunt of acknowledgment, his version of a greeting, before plopping down beside you. “Work wrapped up faster than I thought,” he said, leaning back and stretching an arm over the back of the couch.

As he settled in, his eyes flicked toward you, and they instinctively scanned over you with the same sharpness he applied to everything. They lingered on your hand for a beat longer than usual.

“Where’s your ring?” he asked, his tone casual but with an edge of curiosity.

You blinked, looking down at your bare finger. “Oh,” you said lightly, “I took it off earlier while I was washing dishes. I guess I forgot to put it back on.”

Toji raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a sly smirk. “Forgot, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, already sensing where this was going. “Don’t start,” you said, crossing your arms. “It’s not like I lost it or anything. It’s on the counter by the sink.”

“Mm,” he hummed, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked at you with that unreadable expression of his. “Funny. I didn’t think you’d be the type to forget something like that.”

You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him. “It’s just a ring, Toji. Don’t make it a big deal.”

“Just a ring?” he repeated, his tone laced with amusement. He leaned back again, draping an arm across your shoulders. “That’s not what you said when I gave it to you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the memory. Toji wasn’t exactly the sentimental type, so when he had proposed—ring and all—it had been one of the rare moments where he let his guard down. The ring symbolized more than just a commitment; it was his way of showing you that you were the one person he trusted enough to hold onto.

“Okay, fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not ‘just a ring.’ Happy now?”

Toji chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through the room. “Damn right I’m happy. You’re lucky I’m not one of those guys who gets all pissy about this stuff.”

“You literally just called me out for it,” you shot back, giving him a playful glare.

“Yeah, but I didn’t yell about it,” he said, smirking as he reached for your hand. He turned it over, his calloused fingers brushing against your bare finger. “Guess I just like seeing it on you, that’s all.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. Toji wasn’t one for flowery words or grand romantic gestures, but when he said things like this, it was impossible not to feel the depth of his emotions.

You softened, resting your other hand over his. “I didn’t mean to make you feel weird about it,” you said. “I’ll go grab it right now.”

As you stood up to retrieve your ring, Toji leaned back and watched you with a lazy grin. “Don’t keep me waiting, princess. Gotta make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder, but there was no real annoyance behind it. When you returned with the ring on your finger, Toji reached for your hand again, his thumb brushing over the metal as his grin widened.

“Now that’s more like it,” he said, tugging you back onto the couch beside him.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help but smile.

“And you love it,” he replied easily, pulling you closer until you were leaning against his chest.

Sukuna ryomen — The air was heavy with the scent of incense and sakura blossoms, the grand halls of Sukuna’s domain illuminated by the flickering light of oil lamps. You sat on a low, ornate platform, your fingers absently tracing patterns on a delicate porcelain cup as you waited for Sukuna to return.

The sound of his footsteps was unmistakable, his commanding presence preceding him. When he stepped into the room, his twin sets of eyes found you immediately, piercing and intense. Dressed in his ceremonial robes, Sukuna looked every bit the fearsome king he was rumored to be, his aura suffocating yet magnetic.

“Wife,” he greeted in a low, resonant voice that sent a shiver down your spine. “What mischief have you been up to today?”

You smiled, setting down your cup as he approached. “Nothing that would trouble the great Ryomen Sukuna,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him.

He chuckled darkly, the sound laced with amusement and menace. “Good. I’ve had enough annoyances for one day.”

As he lowered himself to sit beside you, his gaze swept over you, sharp and all-seeing. His attention lingered on your left hand, resting idly in your lap. His expression darkened instantly, a storm brewing in his crimson eyes.

“Where is it?” he demanded, his tone suddenly sharp.

You blinked, confused. “Where is what?”

“Your ring,” he said coldly, his jaw tightening as his eyes bore into yours. “The one I placed on your finger. The one that marks you as mine.”

Realization dawned, and you glanced down at your bare hand. “Oh,” you said lightly. “I removed it while preparing the tea earlier. I didn’t want it to get dirty.”

Sukuna’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, it grew more severe. “And you thought it wise to leave yourself unmarked?”

You frowned, sitting up straighter. “It’s just a ring, Sukuna. It’s not as though I’ve forgotten what it means.”

“Just a ring?” he repeated, his voice a low, dangerous growl. He leaned closer, his four eyes narrowing as his hand shot out to grab your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “You insult me with such carelessness.”

You held his gaze, refusing to flinch under the weight of his presence. “It was not meant as an insult,” you said firmly. “I was thinking practically. Surely you don’t think a piece of metal is the only proof of my loyalty to you.”

Sukuna’s lips curled into a wicked grin, though his eyes still burned with displeasure. “No, but it is a visible declaration. One that tells the world you belong to me. You will not cast it aside so lightly again.”

You sighed, reaching up to rest your hand over his. “It was not my intention to ‘cast it aside,’ as you put it. But if it matters so much to you, I will retrieve it immediately.”

“Do that,” he said, releasing your chin with a flick of his wrist. “And do not make me repeat myself on this matter.”

You rose gracefully, moving toward the chamber where you had set the ring aside. Sukuna’s gaze followed you, his eyes dark and watchful, though you could sense the simmering satisfaction beneath his displeasure.

When you returned, the ring once again adorning your finger, Sukuna reached out and caught your wrist, pulling you closer. He inspected the ring as though ensuring it hadn’t been damaged in your absence.

“Better,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the metal. He glanced up at you, his expression softening slightly—though his grin retained its edge. “Do not forget, wife. You are mine. Always.”

You smirked, leaning down so your face was close to his. “And you are mine, Ryomen Sukuna. Do not forget that either.”

He laughed, a deep, reverberating sound that filled the room. “Bold as ever,” he said, his voice dripping with approval. “Perhaps that’s why I tolerate you.”

[amsaro]

I was going to put this in the tags, but it spiralled.

As well as cowardly, it is also such empty, transparent virtue signalling. The minute an artist, or any well-known figure, is revealed to have done awful things, someone always wants to pipe up smugly "I never liked them anyway."

As if it has anything to do with you. Or as if this makes you somehow a better person. Even if it's true. Even if that art never resonated with you.

If it didn't, that doesn't automatically mean it's poor quality. Your personal taste is not the ultimate test of quality. And neither is it proof positive of innocence or purity of the artist.

Other commenters here are right, to a large degree. When an artist is still living, still creating (or potentially doing so) and has done awful things, and may continue to do them, making no effort towards amends or change*, we are faced with the unsettling reality that our continued consumption of their art supports them as they do this, and may contribute towards promoting their ideas.

If you have loved that art, if it meant something to you, this hurts. Before anyone says it, I'm not comparing this to the suffering endured by the victims in these cases. But this is the fandom website. We know what it's like to have a fictional world matter to us.

If you step away from a story, or character, or world that you have loved, because you cannot in good conscience support it - or even really enjoy it anymore, now you know what you know - that is difficult. Saying you never liked it anyway is not difficult. And if you genuinely never connected with that art, then it is easy to maintain your distance.

tl;dr you are not a bad person for having genuinely enjoyed art made by an awful person, and anyone who tries to make you feel like you are is a coward. A smug coward.

[urno1luv]

Can you please make the puppy gf yunjin into a full fic/imagine including the things you already said in the short you posted? 🙏🙏🙏

encountering a clingy puppy hybrid called yunjin and falling in love with her, despite her weird and often creepy antics -◇

tags: clingy yunjin, breaking in, she's lowkey a creep (but not a perverted one), obsessive?, desperate sex (gp and non gp versions)

The first time Yunjin noticed you, her world tilted. Her floppy ears perked up, her pupils dilated, and her tail wagged in excitement. Something about you—the way you smiled shyly at your friend, the way your voice carried across the room—made her chest ache in ways she didn’t understand. It wasn’t love at first sight. It was more than that.

From then on, Yunjin became a shadow in your life, always lingering just a step behind, like a lost puppy. At first, you thought it was sweet. She’d always find you during breaks, showing up with your favorite snacks or insisting on walking you to your next class, her arm in yours. Her presence was magnetic—warm, comforting. You didn’t notice how tightly her fingers gripped your arm when she pulled you closer, or how her smile faded the moment someone else tried to talk to you.

But then, the texts started.

“Where are you?”

“Who are you with?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

You’d barely reply before your phone buzzed again, another question, another demand. The messages came at all hours, and when you didn’t respond, she’d call—her voice breathless, almost panicked.

“I was worried,” she’d say, her tone dripping with sweetness, though there was an edge to her words that made you uneasy.

One evening, as you were heading home, you spotted Yunjin waiting outside your door. She wasn’t supposed to know where you lived...😰

“Yunjin?” you asked, trying to mask the surprise in your voice. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled, holding up a bag, her canines shining through her genuine smile. “You mentioned you weren’t feeling well, so I brought you soup. I just wanted to take care of you.”

It was a thoughtful gesture, but the way her warm eyes bore into yours made your skin prickle.

“Thanks, but… how did you know where I live?”

Her smile widened. “Oh, I asked around. It wasn’t hard.”

You didn’t have the heart to turn away such a sweet girl, but as she followed you inside, something about her presence felt suffocating. She hovered too close, her eyes flicking to every detail in your home as if she were memorizing it. You noticed how she made sure to rub her cheek on your neck... was she scenting you?

That night, after she left, you found a strand of her hair on your pillow.

Days turned into weeks, and Yunjin’s behavior grew more intense. She started showing up unannounced more often, always with an excuse—she’d forgotten something at your place, or she just wanted to see you. She knew your schedule better than you did, waiting for you after classes, walking you home, always there, always watching. Her yearning gaze would follow you in a way that made your stomach twist.

When you tried to set boundaries, Yunjin brushed them off with a laugh, acting as if you were joking.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” she teased, but her tone was laced with something darker. To make a point, she suddenly bit your wrist, hard enough to leave a mark, giggling at your yelping.

One day, you decided to take a different route home, hoping for a moment of peace. But as you turned the corner, you found her waiting at the end of the street, her smile too perfect, too knowing.

“You didn’t think I’d lose track of you, did you?” she asked, tilting her head. Her voice was light, but her eyes burned with something that made your heart race.

You tried to brush it off, but Yunjin’s presence only became more suffocating. She started leaving notes in your bag, little love letters written in her elegant handwriting.

“You’re mine,” one read.

“We belong together,” said another.

---◇

The final straw came when you woke up one night to find her sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Yunjin?!” you gasped, scrambling back against the headboard.

She tilted her head, in pure puppy fashion, her expression unnerving you. “You left your window unlocked,” she said, as if that explained everything. “I got worried when you didn’t text me back. I couldn’t sleep not knowing if you were okay.”

Her fevour and devotion for you sent a chill down your spine. You tried to steady your voice. “Yunjin, this… this isn’t normal. You can’t just come into my house like this.”

Her smile faltered, and for a moment, something flickered in her eyes—hurt, anger, desperation.

“I’m doing this because I love you,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “Don’t you see? You’re my everything. I can’t… I can’t lose you.”

You didn’t know what to say, your mind racing as you tried to figure out how to get her to leave. But before you could speak, she leaned closer, her hands softly holding your face, her warm hands and heavy breathing soothing your panic slightly.

“You don’t have to be scared,” she whispered. “I’ll always take care of you. Always.”

Her words sounded more like a promise than reassurance, and as she stood to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over.

The door clicked shut behind her, but her presence lingered—an invisible weight pressing down on you. You stared at the window she’d used to sneak in, your heart pounding as you realized she would never let you go.

when you fall in love ---◇

- despite her overwhelming presence, Yunjin’s softer moments make your heart flutter. the way she looks at you, like you’re her entire world, becomes addictive.

- her obsessive attention to detail feels flattering at times—she remembers everything about you, from your favorite coffee order to the way you like your books organized.

- when she clings to your arm or rests her head on your shoulder, you feel a strange sense of comfort, like you’re her safe place.

- her determination to always take care of you becomes endearing, especially when she shows up with things you didn’t realize you needed, like an umbrella on a rainy day or soup when you’re sick.

- you catch yourself smiling when she texts you goodnight every single night without fail, her messages filled with warmth and affection.

- the intensity in her gaze when she talks to you makes your stomach flip—it’s like she’s silently telling you how much you mean to her.

- over time, her possessiveness starts to feel less threatening and more like she’s terrified of losing you, which makes you want to protect her in return.

- her vulnerability during emotional moments tugs at your heart; the way her voice shakes when she says, “I can’t lose you,” makes you realize how much she needs you.

- the little notes she leaves for you, filled with sweet words and doodles, make your chest feel warm. you keep them tucked away, unable to throw them out.

- one day, when she shyly confesses how deeply she feels for you, her honesty is so raw and sincere that you can’t help but fall for her too. And now you're girlfriends let's gooo🗣‼️

how sex with yunjin is like (non gp version) -◇

- she NEEDS close contact,so she makes sure to have you extremely close when fucking. any position where she doesn't see your face? she's NOT doing it, always whining and grumbling in your ear when she fucks you with her favourite navy blue strap from behind, but you suggested doing it in front of a mirror, and that was the best day of her life. the mascara running down your face, drool running down your chin, and it turns out it's not so bad!!! bc she can lean down and mark your back whenever she wants!! your sessions always end in you flinching in pain when you feel her bite marks, but yunjin won't let you sit in pain for too long!! no no!! she has the BEST aftercare in the world🤞🤞

- praises you ALL the time. she hates degrading you, doesn't like the idea of even disrespecting you, even if you want it😭she definitely says stuff along the lines of:

"C'mon baby, just one more, give me one more doll, i know you can. I know you can do it for me."

"You're so pretty underneath me like this, d'ya know that?"

"Ugh, you feel so fucking good, you're so fucking wet for me, you like that, y/nnie?"

- certified service dom, and ur her lucky pillow princess

- she will scream and throw a tantrum if she doesn't get to taste you on her tongue for at least 2 hours a day. yunjinnie begs all day for you, following you around your house. even at college she would ask to have you. "please, pleaseeee? you're not being a good girlfriend right now."

- when she doesn't get what she wants she wants talk to you at all, until you give it to her. and so you reluctantly do, and that was a mistake. she doesn't let you go until she's positive that you can't walk or talk and your brain scrambled. when there's saliva everywhere, and your clit is sore and an angry shade of red, the 9th orgasm gushing out of your pussy, and your body limp?? she's accomplished her life's purpose.

(gp version) -◇

- desperate as fuck. her breeding kink is absolutely uncontrollable. she would bend you over the kitchen counter, smacking your ass while pulling your panties off (you dont bother wearing clothes around her because shes going to rip them off anyway). she'd push her dick into your pussy, and when she feels you clench around her tip, she already feels like she's in heaven. she wpuld pump her hot, thick cum into you until youre gripping the edge of the counter, panting heavily.

- marking you everywhere. your neck, your waist, your belly, your shoulders, your wrist, your thighs, your pu-

- she lives for the sound you make when you gag on her fat cock... quickly thrusting deep, so that your nose is pressed against her tummy, and her heavy balls slap against your chin as she repeatedly fucks your face without warning

- like the non gp version, she prefers to see your face, and positions like mating press are the best in her opinion!! that's where her cock hits the deepest, and filling your pussy up with her semen is the only thought in her mind rn🤞🤞

[zerocoded]

summary: the view of linkon city from above is really different than what you're accostumed to, but you can't help but love every second of it when caleb is by your side.

authors note: can't believe i'm posting a caleb work here on this account before a sylus one LOL, anyways i'll treat our dragon fine later, now this colonel has been eating my brain the past two days and i need to get this out. this is pretty lame honestly, just trying to figure out what caleb i want to write among ALL of the ideas his one minute trailer gave me geez. i hope you like his soft side here because i plan to write a more obsessive caleb next time hehe. (GUYS I CAN'T FIND THE AUTHOR OF THIS BEAUTIFUL DRAWING I FOUND ON PINTEREST HELP).

warnings: soft!caleb lol he is just our boynextdoor here • idk where this would fit in the og story so just enjoy the reading and pretend it makes sense pls • sfw content

word count: 0.6k

the neon glow of skyhaven's artificial skyline reflected off the polished surfaces of the floating colony, bathing everything in shades of blue and violet. caleb leaned casually against his fighter jet, the sharp angles of the aircraft framing his silhouette. his black jacket, emblazoned with the deepspace aviation administration emblem, caught the faint light, making him seem larger than life.

“thought you’d chicken out,” caleb said, his voice laced with mock disappointment as you approached. “figured you’d be too scared to race the great colonel caleb.”

“scared? of you?” you shot back, folding your arms. “last i checked, you scraped the hull of your jet in the last drill. hardly inspiring confidence, colonel.”

he chuckled, the sound low and warm, and pushed off the jet with an easy grace. “ouch. remind me to never let you near the observation deck again. you’ve got a real knack for holding grudges, don’t you?”

your banter was familiar, a shield against the weight of the world outside skyhaven. but tonight, there was a strange tension in the air, unspoken yet undeniable.

caleb stepped closer, his usual teasing smirk softening into something more genuine. “you know,” he began, his tone quieter now, “all jokes aside, it’s good to see you up here. the city looks... different from above. easier to pretend it’s not falling apart for a while.”

you glanced past him, your gaze settling on the twinkling lights of linkon city far below. “it’s not falling apart,” you said firmly. “not while we’re still here to fight for it.”

“always the optimist,” caleb murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “you make it sound so easy.”

“it’s not. but what’s the alternative?”

silence stretched between you two, broken only by the hum of distant machinery. caleb looked at you, his purple eyes searching yours for something unspoken. when he spoke again, his voice was softer, rawer.

“do you ever wonder what it would’ve been like if we hadn’t lived through the chronorift?” he asked. “if we’d just... had normal lives? no wanderers, no aether cores, no missions?”

you blinked, caught off guard by the vulnerability in his words. caleb rarely let his guard down, always the jokester, always the soldier.

“sometimes,” you admitted. “but then i remember how much we’ve done—how much we’ve survived. i wouldn’t trade that. not if it means losing you.”

his gaze sharpened, and for a moment, caleb seemed to forget the world around them. he took a step closer, the space between you shrinking.

“Y/N,” he said, your name heavy with meaning. “you know i’d do anything to keep you safe, right? even if it means...” he trailed off, looking away, his jaw tightening.

“even if it means what?” you pressed gently.

he exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair. “even if it means putting the whole world in danger. you’re the one thing I can’t lose.”

for once, you didn’t have a comeback. instead, you reached out, your fingers brushing his. “you won’t lose me, caleb. not as long as you don’t give up on yourself.”

the tension between you softened, replaced by something warmer, quieter. caleb’s smirk returned, though it was tinged with something deeper this time.

“guess i’ll have to stick around then,” he said, his voice lighter now. “wouldn’t want to miss out on you finally admitting i’m the better pilot.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “keep dreaming, colonel.”

and as the two stood there, beneath the artificial stars of skyhaven, it felt, for a moment, like the weight of their world was a little easier to bear.

author's note: look how sweet we can be, see? anyways next time i'll be writing about how he fucks probably, xx. CHECK OUT MY NEW POST ABOUT CALEB. send me a request • my masterpost

[okaysonny]

how would the crew heads confess to you? (lookism)

A/N: a follow up post to: how easy is it for the crew heads to crush on you? (lookism)

thanks for all the love on it :) takes place during the current story!

✦ you're blissfully ignorant + their feelings are not reciprocated... (until you're aware of them anyway lol) because i like the #disbelief 👅

1. ELI

eli decides to take a leap of faith. he's not sure what to expect, but he's witnessed warren and sally's situation. he doesn't want his own love life to be a repeat 🫠

now that he's more sure of himself, more sure that he's allowed to feel someone's affections, he wants to know if his aimless pining for you really is aimless.

i think he'd confess to you in hostel's living room 🫡 (where warren + sally kissed) a simple but special place for him. it's where eli spends time with his family, and he wants you to be a part of that too.

he gets a pep talk from warren and sally first ofc! since they ended up together after all that tension, they remind him of their own experiences. warren would defo say something like: take it from me, gangdong's mighty...and romantic.

the gist of their speech is that: it'll be awkward, but better than waiting three years to properly confess. just be honest - if you don't try, you'll never know.

─ and if you get rejected? i'll be here with popcorn.

─ hush warren! don't listen to him eli. you've got this! (sally flashes a thumbs up 👍🏽)

he also gets motivation from amy and natalie <3 (you can do it uncle!)

eli can only smile bashfully. in the end, they're genuinely here supporting him, no matter what happens.

when the time actually comes, they all leave to give him privacy •ᴗ• (but they'd be listening through the door the whole time 😭)

his confession...is very cute and sweet 🥲 he doesn't have jake's guilt or johan's awkwardness, so he actually looks happy to be admitting his feelings, listing off all the things he admires about you.

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eli's daughter is the most important thing in the world - she's changed him for the better. so, seeing yenna so happy with you has made his heart flutter. (didn't mean for that to rhyme lmfaooo)

his feelings for you go beyond romantic attraction. it's also how well you've fit into his life, how it feels like you're meant to be there. bringing someone into his family's world is a big deal for him - but it would make him so happy to have you in it.

not that he doesn't love being a dad - he clearly does! but eli's life has been centered around taking care of yenna, handling hostel's issues, working hard to make ends meet...he's never really thought about who he is outside of that.

with you, eli feels like he can explore life more freely. he feels appreciated - maybe even a little carefree in a way that’s new for him. with you, even though the pressures and responsibilities are still there, he feels lighter. he remembers he has dreams and aspirations like anyone else. for the first time in ages, he feels like he can be just eli.

he hasn't properly liked anyone since heather - and even that's slightly different. this time, he actually knows what he's feeling. and if there's even a slight chance you'd want to be with him, he would do everything he can to make you happy - just as much as you make him.

eli acknowledges that it's a lot to ask, having a child in the picture. still, should that always prevent him from pursuing a relationship? if he gets that privilege, he would only want you. you would give him (and yenna) so much joy.

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eli's words are filled with quiet hope, his cheeks pink as his confessions spill out.

even if you don’t feel the same way, having you in his life, even as a friend, means the world to him. he doesn't want to lose that.

if eli can't be with you, he can live with it, but he doesn't want to wonder if he missed the chance to tell you.

2. JAKE

this man is filled with such angst and anguish 😂🤦🏽‍♀️

BTW - i think by this point, you'll know his job + past actions. you were unnerved when he admitted it...but jake has faced the repercussions (partly). he still has interests and hobbies like everyone else, he's still good company. you can't bring yourself to fully judge him, because you've never been in that position.

jake wasn't going to say anything. it's less messy, less selfish, if he keeps his feelings to himself.

that doesn't stop you from occupying his head though. he can't help but wonder what you're doing. are you safe? are you happy? if not, could he make you happy? ...possibly?

still, he pushes these thoughts away.

it's only when members of big deal notice his spacing out and lapses in concentration that he thinks: okay...i should probably do something.

he'd rather hear your rejection than keep wondering if there's a chance...+ to not have you (unknowingly) interfere with his duties.

first things first though, he needs some advice.

he'd totallyyy go to sinu. i can picture it so clearly 😂 jake is a smooth talker, but he's never actually liked someone. he can't talk his way though this. (he can try, but he'd fail miserably)

sinu would be so chuffed that his (practically) little brother is coming to him for relationship advice. (i never thought i'd see the day...you're all grown up. and he wipes a tear 😭) given jake's lack of interest in dating, he's pleasantly surprised at his change of heart! you must have had a big impact on him.

jake asks if sinu felt guilty liking yeonhui, considering his role in big deal. he was perceived as a gang leader back then...did sinu ever feel like she deserves better than that?

sinu gets nostalgic and starts reminiscing about his relationship 😅 jake zones out halfway through, wondering why he even bothered to ask in the first place.

EVENTUALLY THOUGH, he reels it back in and gets #serious 🙂‍↕️ something like: how long will you let your role and past define you?

the gist of sinu's speech: sure, jake has done bad things. (...worst than most people) but he shouldn't let that hold him back. jake can still try be something better, he's not some heartless monster. there's no harm in being honest, he'll never know what could happen.

jake is gobsmacked... a man of passion indeed.

i think he'd confess to you at the sea side! (where samuel found out who jake's dad was) he'd rather watch the waves than your confused face.

he tells big deal to stay away from that area, because he has important business there. (jake knows they'd be spying from a distance if he didn't 😭)

i think he'd practice in the mirror beforehand...but it does nothing to settle his nerves (-.-)

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jake likes you. he knows it's unexpected and out of the blue, but he has to tell you.

you don't realise how amazing you are, how smart, how caring. it's the little things...helping jerry with his homework (god knows no one else can) or paying for your meals even though it's not necessary - he'll always let you eat for free. + plus the food is lowkey shit anyway <3

...or how well you get along with the girls. (they constantly tell him to ask you out 😪)

he knows he's not worthy. there's people who can easily give you their undivided attention. you deserve only the best...and he's the furthest thing from that. but he wishes he could be.

he doesn't want you to think he's the same person as before. you deserve someone way better than an ex-convict. jake wishes he could change the past - so badly. he regrets not trying harder for a better solution back then, just for the opportunity to take you on a date...to be with you.

jake wants to be the best version of himself. you make him think that being a better person could change some of his past...and eventually make him worthy of someone like you.

and if there's even a sliver of hope you feel the same way, that you'd give him the honour of being his first...everything, he'll do everything in his power to be a boyfriend you can be proud of.

he doesn't need you to say anything, jake would never pressure you for a yes or no. he just needed to say the truth, to be honest with you - and himself.

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jake kim, who's always so sarcastic and sure of himself, is suddenly so nervous and quiet before you. it's a side you've never seen of him.

there's a lot to consider. sometimes you'd never see jake, he'll be in danger a lot, and if he really had to - he'd be ruthless again to protect big deal. he knows that too.

even so, he's pouring his heart out, trying so hard for you...and you don't even think you're that great, to be honest.

you find your cheeks flushing at his words, and the earnest way in which he utters them.

3. JOHAN

johan...i found him hard to write. i don't like this little mouse.

if you like someone, you should probably tell them. johan would rather die. but eventually, not saying anything has gotten more painful than the prospect of confessing.

he hasn't liked anyone since mira and that feels like...a lifetime ago. so, he (very reluctantly) goes to zack for help.

zack would be sooo annoying about it, he'll never let him live it down. johan seong coming to him for dating advice...another indicator that their worlds are healing ❤️ he shuts up though when johan threatens to beat his ass.

i think zack would give the same bs advice he gave to vasco in the blind date arc 😭😭

─ alright...you really wanna know? let me give you a piece of advice i told a certain knuckle head. Be gentle...but fast. Be manly...but kind.

─ wait...have you got together with mira yet?

─ all in good time johan...all in good time. (zack taps his noggin 🧏🏻)

so that was useless.

there is another person he can go to though...mother knows best, as they say 🫡 johan would invite you to have dinner at his place, just a causal meal...obviously 😁

─ so you're johan's friend! it's great to finally meet you. help yourself! (he got his cutie patootie genes from his mom)

johan's mom gives him playful nudges when your back is turned 💘 he silently pleads with her to cut it out.

now that he has his mother's seal of approval, he feels ready to...confess or whatever.

i think johan would confess to you while sitting at the river with eden + miro. (the one where lua pushed him in 💔)

unlike eli and jake, johan's confession isn't planned. he decides to tell you when it feels right. and this place feels right.

he'd be avoiding eye contact the WHOLEEE time 😭 his face would be so red too...a cutie patootie to the max.

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johan starts by talking about the little things, like how his dogs are always happy when they see you. eden and miro get so jumpy and excited when you come over, as if they can sense how much he cares about you. it's something he can speak about easily - they're a big part of his life.

and his mom - johan's mom is so important to him. her approval means a lot…and she definitely approves (of you). she really likes you, especially after that dinner at his house. his mom is his rock in so many ways, the fact that she sees what he sees, means the world to him.

johan hid behind a stoic facade for so long. he's grateful to zack and mira for showing him that having feelings for someone…it can be a beautiful thing. with you, he feels more okay stepping out of that shell. maybe it's the way you always listen when he talks…or how you're there for him without making a big deal out of it…or how you celebrate the small things with him. (aka���barely passing english)

the professions are still foreign to him. it’s not just about liking you, it’s about the vulnerability that comes with it. he’s afraid of how this might change things between you two. but, johan knows hiding it would only make things worse. he can’t keep pretending like nothing’s there. it’s been weighing on him for so long.

still, he’s ready to face that fear of vulnerability, to show you all the sides to him. he’s letting you in — not just with his feelings for you, but with his whole self, all the things he’s kept locked away. for johan, that’s a huge deal.

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the man who united all of gangbuk, who went toe to toe with gun park...is suddenly so shy and awkward right now. truly a rare sight.

he's mumbling almost every sentence and you have to scoot closer to hear him, which definitely doesn't help things.

johan is thankful for eden and miro's barking for once, it fills the silence that passes.

it's not the smoothest confession, but that’s exactly what makes it sweet - he's showing you a bit of his heart by saying nothing and everything at the same time.

4. SAMUEL

he'd confess you're his fav BOOTY CALL maybe!

an actual confession of his: when samuel sees cheap instant noodle packs in the store, he can't help but think of big deal.

If it means I can eat better food later...I don't mind eating here now.

but he's annoyed the lavish food he can buy now doesn't quite fill him up the same way.

✿ who would have you blushing the most?

A/N: first date headcanons next?? 🤷🏽‍♀️ if ppl like this one too

[phoebepheebsphibs]

OOH THIS IS INTERESTING…

My first (and current) fav superhero is Spider-Man. I loved how genuinely real he felt, how he was the only superhero (that I knew of) who would crack jokes mid battle. While most superheroes were portrayed as depressed or dark or overly serious or filthy rich, he was a broke high school kid and that was relatable (despite the fact that I discovered him when I was like 4 years old).

My fav turtle depends on the iteration. I’ve only really seen Rise and those two live action films from like 2014, though I’ve seen some of the 2012 series. Across the board, Donnie’s always been my fave — not just because of purple, but he was the only one who was actually concerned with the plot and he wasn’t completely incompetent lol. But Rise Mikey stole my heart instantly, which was a shock since usually he was my least favourite. Rise Donnie is my second fav tho.

Mm. Relax. What’s that?? (Not exactly joking, but I guess writing stories would be my relaxer. Or watching Agatha Christie murder mysteries like Poirot or Marple!)

I. Love. Platypuses.

Reading’s always been tough for me (undiagnosed ADHD), but my fav book series is definitely PJO. Currently my mom and I are watching Marple together each night!

I am an introvert. People exhaust me.

Fav thing in my room… apart from my bed and laptop…? Maybe my art board, or — oh, oh! I know! I have a giant post-it that has notes from old college friends and coworkers.

Uh…. I’ve never had cider and I’m not a fan of hot chocolate. I’ve been told I make the best coco, tho! Which is weird, considering I won’t drink it…

Fav dog breed would be my dog, Coulson. He’s a mixed breed, but we think he’s tiger-pitbull boxer mix with some beagle in him.

I do not know my zodiac, and I do not care. No offense to anyone, but astrology is not my thing.

And NOW FOR YOU UNFORTUNATE SOULS —

Name a core memory? (My first trip to Disney World and watching the fireworks on my father’s shoulders. 🥹)

Sweet or sour pickles? (Sour. Sweet pickles should not exist.)

What colour would you assign your soul? (I think like… purple or even a tealish blue for me.)

Dream job? (Animator/content creator.)

What’s a word you can’t pronounce no matter what? (I said “par-meeshian” instead of parmesan once. I have yet to live it down.)

A story — book or fanfic — you’d like to recommend? (I read “The Humans” for college and always recommend it for grown ups. It was a COLLEGE BOOK, so there are some moments that aren’t great for kids. Plus a lot of swearing. But overall an engaging and interesting story that I loved.)

Name a fictional character you would fight on sight? (Krang Prime. I’ve never wanted to annihilate a character so much.)

A message you’d want to give your younger self? (You aren’t a freak, you’re just programmed differently than other humans and that’s okay. Also, don’t hold yourself to achievements or standards that you feel make you important. You’ll be okay.)

A song you are OBSESSED WITH? (Creating Monsters by Set It Off)

Breakfast, lunch, or dinner? Or, the forbidden choice, POST MIDNIGHT SNACK??? (Lunch or post-midnight lol)

@boots-with-the-fur-club @daboyau @littlemissartemisia @truths33k3r4 @cheetochild989 @exhaustedwriterartist @psychologicalwarclaire

Ten questions to ask a mutual

Instructions: prev asks ten questions and you answer them, then ask ten new ones and tag ten people to keep the chain going! I’ll go first

What is the weirdest thing you’ve eaten? (For me it’s the time I accidentally drank ants)

do you like purple or green more? (For me it’s a 50/50 I love them both)

what is your favorite two color color combo? (For me it’s purple and gold)

are you a cat or dog person? (Dogs 100%)

what is your favorite painting (Miranda by John William Waterhouse)

Mountains or beaches? (Mountains)

what’s your favorite dessert? (Lemon bars)

are you right or left handed? (Right but I used to be left handed)

salty or sweet? (Sweet)

summer or winter? (Winter)

I’m tagging 11 people but it’s whatever

@wra1th-k1ng

@bladevoyager

@tragedyanddust

@kindred-spirit-93

@urfavgreekmythnerd

@sickneurotic

@ry-diggity

@we-are-but-dead-stars

@thestarryfalls

@tamaruaart

@hermesmoly

[vvachillessongvv]

2024 Fandom review

💜

When I was in third grade, I wrote a short story about a girl who had been shrunken down to the size of a grape and had to find a way to grow back to her regular size. My teacher wrote a note on that story that said I should be a writer when I grow up- I held onto that even though all my adults told me writing wasn't a good career choice. I guess they never thought about the alternative, which is writing fluff and smut for free on godless AO3 😂 I can't explain how much every single comment means to me, the little community we have here, it is truly such a wonderful space and I feel like I gained so much in 2024 just by being a part of it. Thank you for being here and reading my words. I started reading and writing Young Royals fic in 2024, so it was a truly magical year.

Fics written:

First fic posted in 2024: Popcorn 2024-06-02

Something that popped into my head, and made me think "Yeah, I could probably write a Wilmon fic" 😂 it's sweet and sort of silly and it means a lot just because it's my og baby.

Last fic posted in 2024: stay with me

2024-12-31

Filthy smut with a bit of feelings, because it's Wilmon 😏💜

Fav fic I've written: Siren

This one is just everything to me. I loved being creative with it, I loved collaborating with people, I loved the slight switch in writing style to fit the time period, it is a true ode to my love of writing and Wilmon combined. Bonus, it introduced me to someone who is now a truly important part of my life.

Fic recs will be after the page break 💜💜💜

Fics read:

Who knows how many- my bookmarks are sitting at 150, but I'd say probably closer to 400-500. There's genuinely no telling 😅

First fic I bookmarked/read: I was on ao3 as a guest for a hot minute, so the first Wilmon fic I read was Fuck the Monarchy by @iwouldnevergetintofanfic (a truly beautiful place to start!) but the first fic I bookmarked on my profile is Almost Is Never Enough by This_time_its_just_me on ao3

Last fic I read: I'm assuming this means the last fic I read in 2024, which would be Now we're falling like snow by @skibasyndrome I absolutely adore his fics, and this one was no different.

Some favorites I've read this year:

You are Unbreaking by @unfortunate17

This is absolutely beautiful, the premise is amazing and just so different while still capturing that amazing Wilmon magic.

Doesn't everyone belong in the arms of the sacred by @alltoowille

This one meant so much to me I was messaging the author from my personal Tumblr to tell them how much it meant to me, before I'd even created my sideblog or ao3 account 😅 it's beautiful and genuinely changed the way I look at religion

Is it over now? by @iwouldnevergetintofanfic

This one is so visceral, it still has an impact on how I write wilmon, and I will probably cry every single time I go back to it

i don't feel like our love it brand new @prince-simon

This fic lives in my heart indefinitely. Prince Simon is absolutely everything to me. Not to be dramatic, but this changed my life a little.

always on the tip of my tongue by @royalwilmon

This is basically what I'm trying to emulate any time I write smut. The way their intimacy is written in this smut is pure magic, the original characters have made a home in my heart and mind, and it's just one of my favorite Wilmon fics of all time

do you think you'd like me more if i was less like you by @toffeelemon

This fic meant the world to me on my genderqueer journey, in fact I'm rereading it just for the amazing gender feels.

Align by Ripki on ao3

Some of the most gorgeous writing I've ever come across. Every chapter touches me and blows me away all at once, and makes me want to write my own beautiful words

Hungry by @earlgrey-lateatnight

I have 2 vampire Simon docs and it's all this fics fault 😂 it's so hot, intimate, and written so wonderfully

now we're knee-deep in this mess by aqua_rius on ao3

This one broke me and put me back together. I had to pause reading multiple times because their pain and longing hit me so hard. It's incredible.

Love drunk and we're never sober by @caramelpenguin

This is so lovely and written so beautifully. It made a little home in my heart and I now think about it when I'm writing anything close to friends to lovers.

To hold (in return) @saynomorefic

I'm telling you, I think about this fic unbidden at least once a week. It is so soft and wonder.

and if my heart should somehow stop by @grapehyasynth

Such a unique premise, the longing and love is so palpable, and of course, the writing is just perfectly beautiful

Baby I know how to use a gun by @saynomorefic

Another AU that lives in my head rent free. Completely amazing, I'd read 200,000 words of just them.

futile devices @jordensgolde

The writing is immaculate, the premise is different and so incredibly Wilmon. The beauty of these words truly inspires me.

one hundred and seventeen @prince-simon

Dare I say this one trans'ed my gender? I read this and suddenly had words for how I felt about myself. I still cry every time I read it. Genderfluid Simon has a special place in my heart, and it's just written so beautifully. Love entirely.

Say a prayer for me in the dark by witchjeons on ao3

This made me want to write poetry again, which I did for one of my fics, and I've continued to do so just for myself. It is utterly beautiful, and I sob each time I read it.

I hate accidents except when we go from friends to this by @cloudywilmon

This is my ultimate feel-good/fully dissociate from reality fic. It is hot, and funny, and ridiculous in all the most perfect ways. When I'm having the shittiest day imaginable, there's these boys having sex and pretending it means absolutely nothing.

Outlines of You by @enjoythesilentworld

Genuinely some of the most beautiful smut I've ever read

Knowing what it feels like by strawberryxcreqm on ao3

This is another fic that just lives in my head, and I can't listen to Mazzy Star without thinking about it.

for the tree's sake by @enjoythesilentworld

This is one of my favorite dynamics. I absolutely adore poetic Wille, it is so soft and sweet and captures them so perfectly

Final reflections:

Thank you to everyone who participates in this fandom in any way. Lurkers, commenters, people making art, gifs, sharing those amazing scene/character analysis'. And of course each and every fic writer, you who have inspired me to find writing again. This is such a beautiful little corner of the internet that I can't wait to spend another year in. Thank you 💜💜💜 feel free to come yell at me or just say hi in my inbox or ask box. I'm shy but I promise I'm always up for talking about Wilmon 🥰

[utilitycaster]

Thank you for writing up that post about the engagement of the alleged themes in campaign 3. I've seen the argument for them and honestly that plus some of the C3 stuff has almost made me feel weird playing a cleric in this setting. The implications just are so unfortunate if it really is the angle they're going for?

Hi anon,

So I have two thoughts on this. The first is that like...it's actually really difficult to make a story set in a fantasy world that deals with racism and colonialism because you have to develop fantasy racism and colonialism, which is a really fucking unpleasant headspace to exist in! And then, if you do, you have what I alluded to in tags on a different post today, where you will get people up in arms about how D&D or an actual play show or a fantasy work depicts orcs or goblins as racist or antisemitic stereotypes and then it's crickets when it comes to any real-world support of black or Jewish people. Chuck Klosterman said sci fi is philosophy for stupid people, and I disagree, but I do think speculative fiction is frequently sociology, anthropology, and geopolitics for stupid people, particularly if it's a setting with a lot of magic and fantasy races vs say, works like Butler's Patternist series, or a lot of Latin American magical realism, or (girl who just finished Disco Elysium voice) Disco Elysium, where there's a lot more grounding in our reality. I think this post covers the concept of real vs mythic, and I think the Critical Role stuff with the gods is in the realm of the mythic and people are trying to force it into a very human narrative. And yeah, the implications are really unfortunate if you do.

I think it's worth noting that a lot of high-profile (and beloved) TTRPG/AP projects from actual people from colonized cultures imagine a world in which they were never colonized (I am far from an expert but just off the top of my head: Coyote and Crow; Into the Motherlands; Desiquest; Islands of Sina Una) rather than make a story where a bunch of mostly white characters explain how they are the victims of colonization from two separate sources and only really focus on the one that's way less obvious and true but don't worry they're GONNA FIX IT, maybe, idk, should we open this door? I just don't know! golly gee this is tough!

The second related thought is just that D&D isn't a game that is well-suited to dismantling complex political structures either on a narrative or literal level and also it's pretend so you can do what you want forever. I mean don't call other people slurs while playing it but if we're talking in-world? I genuinely think that people who are unabashed murderhobos in D&D are often perfectly fine, generous, and lovely people in real life, and a lot of people who are like "I unionized the goblins! We're playing non-combat D&D! I de-escalate every situation" are often the sort of person to claim it's ableist to suggest that perhaps you should try to use reusable shopping bags. Like, are you living your values in your real life and capable of critical thought? then who cares if your D&D character is kind of a dick, or the show you are watching doesn't align perfectly with what you believe? And I find people who get overly hung up on how good and virtuous they are for their media consumption tend to be compensating for a lack, or at best a deep insecurity, about how they comport themselves in their real life.

so anyway yeah if the cast actually is like "yes i see this as a decolonialist work" I am going to have Thoughts and Pretty Harsh Critiques but to grant the CR cast the benefit of the doubt here, I think it's just...a mythic, epic scale story that draws from interesting sources (creation myths, the idea of a world created as an envious reflection by a sealed hunger) and didn't come together very well. I cannot extend that same benefit of the doubt to those fans who have argued otherwise, however.

[aeralux]

"I'd Rather Be With You" - Lucerys Velaryon

Modern!Lucerys x Reader

Summary: "People have a way of leaving. Best to not let anyone close." This is the saying Lucerys lived his whole life by. Keeping others at a distance even if it hurts both him and others. Why should you be the exception?

Warnings: SMUT 18+; sad boy Lucerys; virginity loss (Lucerys); fingering; soft sex; angst; creampie; small dead city

Words: 15k

Notes: No description of the reader. It came out long but it's literally full of them interacting idk. This ends how it ends... if you want a part two, please let me know. I am not responsible for the media you consume.

It was honestly a pretty stupid thing to do. Spending the last bit of your summer break like this felt boring and pointless, but your mom insisted you visit your great-aunt for two months. You didn’t want to go, but no one bothered to ask youwhat you thought. It had been four years since you last saw her—so why should you bother now?

She resided in the decaying seaside town of Littlewater, a place where charm had long faded, replaced instead by a haunting sense of isolation. With only about 700 people, the city was filled with rundown buildings and overgrown dunes, giving off a vibe of loneliness. In your eyes, it was no place for a young woman—too stifling, too dreary, an echo of abandonment.

The name was spot on, too—Littlewater. Just a short distance from the lively port city of Duskendale. Your great-aunt Glorina moved there with her husband when it still had some life. But after her husband passed away, so did the town, leaving her alone with her memories and the eerie quietness of Littlewater. What a sad story, you thought.

With little choice, you piled into the car with your dad, your small suitcase in the back, along with your loyal buddy, Cannibal—a big black mutt who thought he was a lap dog. At least he could keep you company and help keep the creepiness at bay.

As you finally stood outside Glorina’s quaint seaside house, the world around you seemed to hold its breath. The tyres of your father’s car screeched against the gravel, shattering the uneasy tranquillity. Tentatively, you raised your hand and knocked on the door.

When it creaked open, there stood a small woman with a warm smile and long grey hair. She pulled you into a hug that felt both comforting and strange. “How good it is to finally see you, my little,” she whispered into your hair, smelling ofsalty sea breeze and cooking grease. You smiled back, feeling a hint of warmth even though you hadn’t seen her since your teenage years. Yet, amid that comfort, there was an odd feeling stirring deep down—a mix of welcome and something else, something a bit off, waiting in the shadows.

You feel a deep sadness wash over you as you unpack your clothes in the small room designated for you. The walls are painted a soft baby blue, adorned with whimsical white clouds that drift lazily across the surface, evoking a sense of innocence and nostalgia. This was once the room of Glorina's little boy, Niclas—the baby who was taken from her far too soon. The air feels heavy with unspoken memories, and as you set the last of your clothes into the small closet, a long sigh escapes your lips. You turn away from the room and head back downstairs.

"I just finished unpacking. Is there any way I could help you out?" you ask, seeing Glorina busy behind the stove. The enticing aroma of pancakes fills the air, golden and fluffy, as she expertly flips one onto a waiting plate. A wide, genuine smile spreads across her face when she turns to you, and despite the sadness lingering in your heart, you can't help but smile back at her warmth.

Maybe it was a good decision to come here, to heed your parents' advice and not make too much fuss. Glorina clearly needed the company, and you felt relieved at the thought. "No, my dear, I'm fine on my own," she replies softly, her voice as comforting as the smell of fresh pancakes. "You should go and take a little walk before dinner. Explore the area, and take Cannibal out for some air." She beams at the large black dog, who sits patiently by her side, his eyes sparkling with excitement at the mention of a walk.

You huff a soft laugh, fetching Cannibal's leash from the hook by the door. "Come on, big boy. Let’s go discover," you coo at him, feeling the weight of tension in the house lift just a little. "I'll be back soon... don’t wanna stay out after dark," you add quickly, a shiver running down your spine at the thought of the town's eerie ambience as dusk approaches. The shadows dance outside the windows, and you can't shake the unsettling feeling that clings to the air like a thick fog. As you open the door, Cannibal lags happily at your side, and you step out into the fading light.

Following the narrow path to the sea, grains of sand sifted into your worn-out sneakers. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the horizon as it slowly began to dip below the water. Perhaps it was time to head back; you were unsure how the people of this town felt about strangers, the thought lingering in your mind.

Just as you turned to retrace your steps, your gaze caught on a figure in the distance. A tall young man stood there, his silhouette outlined against the fading light. Something about his presence made you pause. You felt rooted to the spot, unable to move as you watched him from afar. He was pulling in a fishing net, his movements strong and fluid, yet there was a weight to them. There was an undeniable magnetism in his demeanour—a quiet strength with a profound loneliness that seemed to resonate with you.

Suddenly, Cannibal’s loud bark broke the stillness, jolting you back to reality. You took a moment to collect yourself, and then with heavy steps, you made your way back to Glorina’s little cabin. As you entered, the sweet, inviting aroma of pancakes drizzled with condensed milk enveloped your senses, momentarily pushing aside thoughts of the mysterious boy on the docks.

“So? What do you think of Littlewater?” Glorina asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she leaned forward, eager to hear your impression.

With a hesitant smile, you replied, “It’s quiet. Not that it’s bad, but… it seems a bit lonely.” Glorina nodded slowly, her smile dimming slightly as she processed your words. Sensing the weight of the topic, she chose not to pry any further and simply encouraged you to dig in, serving up a plate piled high with golden pancakes.

The first night in an unfamiliar place always felt like the hardest, so you decided to rise early and make the most of the day. Cannibal still lay asleep peacefully in the small hut just beyond the door, blissfully unaware of your restlessness. The grass glistened with droplets of morning dew, while birds chirped cheerfully in the trees, making the whole area feel a bitmore alive than it had the night before.

You chose to follow the same path as yesterday, seeking comfort in its familiarity. A small part of you held on to the hope of seeing the boy again. But how would you recognize him? You only remembered that he was tall and had dark hair—details that barely scratched the surface.

After a while of wandering, you found yourself at the marina. It was surprisingly quiet, with only a few men scattered around, busy with their tasks. The absence of lively chatter was almost eerie. Among them, one young man caught your attention. He was hunched over, tinkering with an old boat. His hands were smeared with grease, and damp curls framed his face, glistening from the ocean spray.

“Excuse me? Do you know how I could get back to Rosemary Lane? I seem to have gotten lost...” you asked, your voice barely breaking through the stillness. He barely glanced up, mumbling a polite answer before returning to his work, though you caught a flicker of intrigue in his eyes—a brief moment you didn’t fully recognize. Feeling dismissed, you turned to leave, only to realize too late that he was the same young man from yesterday.

“Stay away from the Velaryons.”

You spun around sharply at the sudden voice. A small blonde boy, maybe about 12 years old, sat on his bike. His knees were scraped and dirty, evidence of rough play. “What?” you asked, puzzled by his warning.

“Stay away from the Velaryons,” he repeated, his voice serious despite his young age. “They’re trouble.” With that, he pedalled away, leaving you standing there in confusion, trying to grasp the weight of his words.

With a furrowed brow and a swirl of questions in your mind, you felt your curiosity deepen. Who were the Velaryons? What sort of trouble did they bring? Looking down at your feet, you took a deep breath and pressed on, hoping thatGlorina would have a strong cup of coffee—that definitely had whiskey in it—to soothe your racing thoughts.

Your great-aunt Glorina was still a busy woman despite not working due to her old age. The small, lively woman had embraced a range of new interests that kept her spirit vibrant: tarot cards, crystals, and healing herbs danced around her daily routine. And cooking, oh thank the Gods for that!

As you sat across from her at the small kitchen table, the faint aroma of her famous herb-infused eggs wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble. She cleared her throat as you shuffled the worn tarot deck in your hands, and when you finally drew a card, she flinched. 

“Ohh, the Three of Swords,” she said, her eyes widening as she glanced at the card, a mix of sympathy and mischief in her expression. You narrowed your brows in confusion, leaning closer as if sharing a secret between you. Over the past few days, you had formed a bond, finding comfort and understanding in each other’s quirky interests.

“Is it bad or…?” you asked cautiously, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly but still palpable.

“Well, that depends on how you look at it,” she replied, her voice soothing, almost rhythmic, like a gentle lullaby. “It’s a heart pierced by three swords. Can’t be much clearer than that,” you said with a shrug before tossing back the last sip of your coffee.

“Take two more cards, then we’ll see the whole story,” she instructed, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she offered the deck toward you, her hand steady, as if inviting you to seal your fate.

With a hopeful heart and eyes closed tight, you let your instincts guide you, reaching into the mystical air that seemed to hum with energy. “Well? What’d I get?” you asked, slowly opening your eyes again, curiosity bubbling inside you.

Glorina looked up, her expression a puzzle. “The Star and The Hermit… reversed.”

“Um, what does that mean?” you mirrored her serious expression, your excitement tinged with a hint of nervousness.

“Just eat the eggs I made for you. I cooked them just like you used to like… all those years ago,” she said, nudging the steaming plate toward you with a gentle smile. It was something she often did when she wanted to dodge deeper topics. You noticed how the corners of her mouth turned up, masking emotions you knew were lurking beneath. You let it go this time. 

“You might want to make some friends around here. Can’t be cooped up with an old woman for two months, now can you?” she tried to say playfully, but you heard the hint of sadness in her laugh, a self-deprecating joke that only made your heart ache for her.

“I like spending time with you here,” you admitted, your voice softening as you carefully placed your hand over hers. You could have sworn you saw tears shine in her eyes, yet she kept smiling, and that made you want to hug her fiercely. “I really do. I mean it.”

“But I’ll look around for some people my own age… if they still exist here,” you added with a teasing scoff, and as you took another bite of the comforting meal, you felt a warmth spreading through the room.

And that's where you saw him again. At the local diner, which had seen better days, adorned with faded posters and peeling wallpaper. The only thing missing was the waitresses on roller skates, zooming around with trays in hand.

He sat in a booth with a boy who looked like a slightly older version of him—maybe a year or two apart. It was clear they were brothers. You caught a quick glance, something casual but charged, before deciding to avoid any awkward moments. Instead, you opted for a slice of warm apple pie and a bitter cup of coffee, steering clear of stare-downs.

“Will that be all?” came the soft voice of a waitress with bleach-blonde hair and wide eyes, her smile friendly but faintly curious. You simply nodded, still feeling like an outsider in this place.

“You’re new,” she remarked, not quite looking at you as she placed your pie and coffee in front of you. “Nothing goes unnoticed here.” Finally, she looked up, meeting your gaze. “I’m Hel. You’re pretty.”

You were taken aback by the sudden compliment, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you stammered your thanks.“Thanks, you as well.” 

But before it could turn into a conversation, she returned to her duties, leaving you alone with your thoughts and an odd sensation of being watched. Despite your instincts telling you to ignore it, you turned back. There he was, his striking green eyes locked onto yours, steady and intense. The weight of his gaze made you feel exposed, and before long, you looked away, unable to hold his stare any longer.

The second encounter happened at the shore. Your great-aunt had taken you for a walk to explore the town, Cannibal rightbeside you, his presence comforting. Just as Glorina stepped aside to gřeet an old friend, he appeared, as if out of nowhere, standing tall behind you on the narrow dock meant for kids to leap into the water.

“Hi,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling slightly as you fought to maintain your composure. The air felt thick with anticipation, and for a moment, it felt like the world around you had faded away.

He hesitated, his lips parting slightly as if searching for the right words. Up close, you noticed things you hadn’t before—the faint freckles scattered across his nose, the way his damp curls clung to his forehead, and the guarded expression that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hi,” he finally replied, his voice soft and tentative, as if unsure whether speaking to you was a mistake.

You felt the moment thin, taut like a thread threatening to snap. He looked away, glancing over the waves lapping against the dock before returning his gaze to you. This time, his expression was cautious but curious. “You’re... new here, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear nervously.

He nodded, his jaw tightening slightly, though you couldn’t tell why. His gaze flickered to Cannibal, who wagged his tail lazily beside you. “Your dog?” he asked, almost as if searching for a safe topic.

“Yeah. He’s my shadow,” you said with a small smile, trying to put some warmth into the conversation.

Luke smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His hands fidgeted at his sides, betraying an undercurrent of unease.“I, uh… I saw you at the diner,” he admitted, his voice dropping a notch. There was something in the way he said it, like it wasn’t just a casual observation.

You blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. “Oh. I thought I saw you too,” you said, your own voice softer now. “With your brother?”

At the mention of his brother, Luke’s expression shifted. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he looked down at the planks of the dock, the gentle creak of the wood filling the silence. “Yeah. That was Jace,” he said finally, his tone carefully neutral.

You wanted to ask more, to pull at the threads he seemed to be guarding so tightly, but something about his body language warned you not to push too hard. Instead, you opted for a lighter approach. “Do you come here a lot? The shore, I mean.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly as if your change in direction eased some unseen weight. “Sometimes,” he said, his eyes lifting to the horizon. “It’s quiet. You can think out here.”

The way he said it made you think he came here not just to think, but to escape. For a while, neither of you spoke. The waves filled the silence, a rhythmic backdrop to the unspoken tension hanging between you.

“I don’t usually talk to people,” he said suddenly, breaking the quiet. His voice was low, almost drowned out by the sea.

You turned to him, your brows knitting together. “Why not?”

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “People have a way of leaving.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, an ache settling in your chest. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything at all. Instead, you let the moment linger, hoping he might fill the silence.

When he finally turned to look at you, there was something raw in his eyes, a mixture of fear and curiosity. “You don’tseem like you belong here,” he said, his tone not unkind but laced with quiet wonder.

You swallowed, unsure whether it was a compliment or a fact. “Maybe I don’t,” you admitted. “But I’m here now.”

For the first time, his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. It was fleeting, like the first glimpse of sunlight after a storm, but it was there.

And somehow, in that moment, it felt like enough.

That was until Glorina called out your name, her voice warm and inviting. "Come, darling! Let's head back! The chicken in the oven should be ready soon!" With a lingering glance at the boy whose name you didn't even know, you turned away, feeling a mix of curiosity and regret. Cannibal, your loyal dog, wagged his tail excitedly at your side, eager to follow you back.

The next day, your great-aunt sent you on an errand to pick up groceries and other essentials for her. With her cooking bistro-level meals for you three times a day, it was hard to refuse her request. You appreciated her efforts, even if it meant stepping out into the eerie streets.

Standing in the grocery store, you found yourself caught between rows of bright packaging for toiletries and hygiene products. Clutching the crumpled list she had written, you squinted at her small, messy handwriting. It curled and swirled across the page, making some items almost impossible to read. You leaned closer, trying to decipher her hurried notes while the familiar sounds of carts rolling and kids laughing filled the air around you.

"Need help with reading?" Came a deeper male voice from beside you.

You turned toward the voice, already half-smiling in reflex, only to find yourself face-to-face with the boy from the shore.

He stood there, holding a small basket of groceries in one hand, his other tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. Up close, he seemed even more striking—freckles dusted across his nose like constellations, his green eyes sharp and inquisitive. The faintest smirk tugged at his lips, though his posture remained casual, almost distant.

“I—uh, no. I’ve got it,” you stammered, gripping the list tighter as if to prove your point. Heat rushed to your face, a mix of embarrassment and that strange, undeniable pull you felt toward him.

He tilted his head slightly, his curls shifting with the motion. “Sure about that? You’ve been squinting at that thing for a while.”

You glanced down at the paper, realizing you’d been staring at the same word—toothpaste—for a good thirty seconds. Clearing your throat, you looked back up at him. “It’s my great-aunt’s handwriting. Feels like trying to crack a secret code.”

His smirk deepened, but only just. “Sounds like a challenge.”

The tension between you both hung in the air, delicate and unspoken, like the space between two magnets just shy of connecting. You weren’t sure what to say, and for a second, neither was he.

“Well,” he said finally, nodding toward your list. “Good luck with the decoding.”

He started to walk past you, and for reasons you didn’t fully understand, you couldn’t let him leave just yet. “Wait,” you called out, the word slipping out before you could stop yourself.

He stopped mid-step, turning back to you, his brow slightly raised. “Yeah?”

“Do you… live here?” The question felt clumsy as it left your mouth, but you couldn’t shake the need to know more about him.

“Yeah.” His response was short, clipped. His guard was back up, the brief openness you saw at the shore now buried under layers of caution.

“Oh,” you said, feeling the weight of his reticence. But then, a flicker of courage sparked within you. “You’re not big on talking, are you?”

His lips twitched, not quite a smile but close. “Depends.”

“On what?” you pressed, curiosity weaving through your words.

“On who I’m talking to.”

The words landed softly between you, not quite an invitation, but not a dismissal either. He shifted his basket to his other hand as if to distract himself from the weight of the moment.

You weren’t sure why, but his quiet intensity made you want to push, just a little. “Am I that bad of a person to talk to?”

His gaze flickered to yours, and for the first time, you thought you saw something in those green eyes—something hesitant and searching. “No,” he said quietly, almost as if the answer surprised him.

Before you could say anything else, the shrill beep of the intercom announcing a sale broke the spell. Lucerys looked away, the brief moment of vulnerability gone as quickly as it came. “I should go,” he muttered, nodding toward the exit.

And just like that, he was gone.

Later that night, as you sat on your great-aunt’s porch watching the sun sink below the horizon, you couldn’t stop replaying the encounter in your mind. His voice, his gaze, the way he’d seemed to want to talk but held himself back—it all lingered, like a song stuck on repeat.

The boy with the stormy eyes and the quiet demeanour.

A few days had passed, each one quietly shifting from dusk to dawn. You hadn’t done much during this time, choosing to spend moments with your affectionate dog and your quirky great-aunt rather than exploring the town, which still sent shivers down your spine.

But as the days went by, your legs began to crave some movement, and you longed to feel the ocean waves lapping against your skin. So, you decided to take Cannibal, your playful dog, along with an old backpack that Glorina had found for you. You made your way to the small beach a short distance away. The beach was nearly empty—a perfect escape.

With loud splashes and bursts of laughter, you ran into the cool, salty water. Cannibal, dashing ahead, barked joyfully as he swam toward you, his tail wagging as if he had the biggest smile on his face.

“Let’s race to the docks, okay? Come on, big boy!” you called out, starting to run toward the wooden docks. The soft sand made it a bit tricky to sprint, but your excitement pushed you forward. As you neared the docks, you spotted a figure seated at the edge, legs dangling over the water’s surface. You suddenly came to a halt, squinting to see who it might be.

Cannibal, however, had already reached the person and plopped down beside him. You felt a mix of curiosity and hesitation as you jogged closer, trying to understand the scene before you.

“Cannibal, let’s head back, alright?” you said, trying to coax your dog. But Cannibal wouldn’t budge; he sat contentedly next to the stranger, looking up at you with his bright green eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief.

“Your dog’s name is Cannibal?” the figure asked, a hint of surprise in his voice as he held a closed notebook tightly in his hand.

You stopped a few feet away, catching your breath. The voice was unmistakable, and as the figure turned slightly, you confirmed it—him.

“Yeah, Cannibal,” you replied, brushing a strand of damp hair from your face. “He kind of eats everything in sight, so… it fits.”

He glanced down at the dog, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Doesn’t seem very cannibalistic to me,” he said, scratching Cannibal gently behind the ears.

“Well, don’t let him fool you. He’s a menace,” you joked, though your voice softened as you watched the way Cannibal leaned into his touch.

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he shifted his notebook in his lap, the edges of a pencil tucked into the spiral binding catching your eye. “He likes the water, huh?” he asked, nodding toward the ocean.

“Loves it,” you said, stepping closer. “Sometimes I think he’s part seal.”

He chuckled under his breath—so quiet you almost missed it. You hesitated, your gaze flickering to the notebook in his lap. “Do you, uh, come here often?”

“Sometimes,” he said with a shrug, his eyes fixed on the horizon. “It’s quiet.”

The same answer he’d given before. But now, with the notebook in view, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to his visits than just seeking quiet.

“What’s that?” you asked, nodding toward the notebook.

Lucerys stiffened slightly, his grip tightening around it. “Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just… something I mess around with.”

His tone was guarded, but not unkind. You tilted your head, curiosity blooming. “Can I see?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer, his jaw clenching as if debating whether to let you in. Finally, with a quiet sigh, he handed the notebook over. “It’s not… good or anything,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You took it gently, sitting down beside him on the dock. Cannibal wagged his tail happily, oblivious to the tension between the two of you.

The first page was filled with rough sketches of the ocean—waves crashing against rocks, a lighthouse in the distance, and the silhouette of a boat. The lines were delicate but precise, each stroke capturing a kind of quiet beauty.

“These are… amazing,” you said, your voice soft with genuine awe.

He shifted beside you, his shoulder brushing yours lightly. “They’re just sketches,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. “Nothing special.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” you said, flipping to another page. Your breath caught as you took in the next drawing.

It was a figure—a girl, standing in a grocery store aisle. Her expression was contemplative, almost pensive, as she squinted at something in her hand. Though the strokes were light and the details subtle, it was unmistakably you.

“This is…” you started, trailing off as you stared at the page. “This is me.”

He didn’t answer immediately. You looked over at him, catching the faint flush creeping up his neck as he kept his gaze fixed firmly on the water.

“I just—” He swallowed hard, his words halting and rushed. “I saw you at the store. You looked… interesting. And I guess I just… remembered.”

“Interesting?” you echoed, your lips curving into a faint smile despite the strange fluttering in your chest.

He sighed, running a hand through his damp curls. “I don’t know. You were squinting at that list, and I thought it was funny. And… I don’t know,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just drew it, okay?”

You looked back at the sketch, your fingers brushing lightly over the page, careful not to smudge it. “You’re really talented,” you said softly.

He didn’t respond, his gaze still fixed somewhere in the distance. The silence stretched, filled only by the gentle sound of the waves and Cannibal’s occasional huff of contentment.

Finally, you closed the notebook carefully and held it out to him. “Thank you,” you said. “For letting me see.”

He took it, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, tucking the notebook under his arm.

But it didn’t feel like nothing—not to you.

“You never told me your name,” you said after a beat, your voice breaking the quiet.

He blinked as if the question had startled him. His green eyes flickered toward yours before darting away again.“Lucerys,” he said, his voice so soft you almost didn’t catch it.

“Lucerys,” you repeated, the syllables unfamiliar but captivating. “I’ve never heard that name before.”

He shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Most people just call me Luke.”

You nodded, testing it out. “Luke.”

“You’re really talented,” you continued, hoping to ease his obvious discomfort. “Do you do this a lot? Draw people?”

“Not really,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I… I just thought you looked…” He trailed off, his voice faltering.

“Looked like what?” you prompted gently.

Lucerys glanced at you, his green eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before darting away. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You just… stood out.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, the honesty in them catching you off guard. “Well,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “I’m glad you did.”

He didn’t respond, but the faintest hint of a smile curved his lips, there and gone in an instant.

"You're quite far from home... on Rosemary Lane," he said, his voice trailing off as he stared into the distance.

"How do you know that?" you questioned, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

Lucerys turned to look at you, his expression a mix of surprise and hesitation. "Well, you... um. You asked me for directions about two weeks ago, I think," he replied, his voice quieter now. A hint of regret crossed his face as if he wished he hadn't mentioned it. The way he spoke suggested he was nervous about admitting he remembered such a smalldetail.

Lucerys shifted, his fingers brushing the edge of his notebook as if to ground himself. “I didn’t mean to sound… weird or anything,” he added quickly, glancing at you with a flicker of uncertainty in his green eyes.

You smiled softly, your curiosity easing into something warmer. “It’s not weird. I guess I should’ve remembered you too.”

He looked down at his lap, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “I wasn’t that memorable.”

“Maybe you were,” you countered, your tone gentle but teasing. “I just didn’t know it at the time.”

Lucerys blinked at you, startled by the unexpected honesty in your voice. For a moment, his lips parted as if to say something, but then he just nodded toward the empty stretch of sand behind you. “You need a ride back? It’s getting late,” he offered, the words rushed but earnest.

You hesitated, glancing back toward the shoreline. The sun had already dipped low, casting long shadows over the waves. Cannibal barked once, as if in agreement, wagging his tail beside you.

“Sure,” you said, brushing the sand from your legs. “If you don’t mind.”

Lucerys stood, tucking his notebook under one arm. “It’s not far. My car is parked up the road.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, Cannibal trotting ahead as the faint hum of cicadas filled the warm evening air. When you reached the car, an old, slightly battered Mercury parked along the narrow road, Lucerys opened the passenger door for you without a word.

“Nice car,” you said with a small smile, sliding into the seat.

“It’s my mom’s,” he replied, rounding to the driver’s side. “She’d probably kill me if she knew I took it.”

The engine rumbled to life, and the radio crackled as he fiddled with the dials. Static gave way to the familiar, haunting intro of a song you knew all too well—Crush by Ethel Cain.

The melancholy melody filled the small space, and for a while, neither of you spoke. The road stretched out ahead, flanked by trees swaying gently in the evening breeze.

You couldn’t help it—you started humming along to the tune, your voice quiet but steady. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Lucerys glance at you.

“What?” you asked, your cheeks warming under his gaze.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, his voice soft. But when you turned to look at him, his expression had shifted. The usual guardedness in his green eyes was gone, replaced by something softer, something you couldn’t quite name.

The song played on, the lyrics wrapping around the moment like a fragile thread. Lucerys tapped his fingers lightly against the steering wheel, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face as he watched the road.

“You sing,” he said after a moment, almost like an observation rather than a question.

“Not really,” you replied, laughing lightly. “Just… when I like the song.”

He nodded, his gaze briefly flicking to you again before returning to the road. “It suits you.”

You tilted your head, confused. “What does?”

“This song,” he said, his voice quiet but certain. “I don’t know why… but it just does.”

You didn’t reply, unsure of what to say. The air between you felt charged, filled with unspoken words and something deeper you couldn’t quite put into words.

As the song swelled, its haunting refrain filling the car, you found yourself stealing a glance at him. His profile was illuminated by the golden glow of the setting sun, and for the first time, you saw Lucerys not as the quiet boy with walls around his heart, but as someone reaching out, even if he didn’t realize it.

And in that moment, you let the music fill the silence, the connection between you as fragile and fleeting as the last notes of the song.

The car slowed as the familiar sight of your great-aunt’s house came into view. The warm glow from the porch light spilt across the front yard, and you could already hear the faint bark of Cannibal, who had bounded ahead as soon as Lucerys pulled over near the driveway.

He cut the engine, and for a moment, the world seemed unnervingly quiet. The melody of Crush still hummed faintly in your mind, but whatever thread had connected the two of you during the ride felt like it had been severed.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, your voice soft as you reached for the door handle.

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone clipped, the warmth he’d shown earlier now buried under a familiar layer of restraint.

You hesitated, glancing at him. His hands gripped the steering wheel loosely, but his eyes stayed fixed ahead, staring at the house as if it were something distant and unimportant.

“Do you…” You trailed off, unsure of what you were even asking. Finally, you settled for, “Do you want to come in?"

Lucerys shook his head almost immediately. “No. I should go.” There was no bite to his words, just a quiet finality that made your chest tighten.

“Okay,” you said softly, your hand lingering on the door. For a second, you thought about pressing him—asking why healways seemed to retreat just when things felt real—but something about the tension in his shoulders told you he wouldn’tanswer. At least, not tonight.

You opened the door, stepping out into the cool night air. The sound of crickets and distant waves filled the space left by his silence. Cannibal barked from the porch, his tail wagging furiously as if calling you home.

Turning back, you leaned into the open window. “You know, you can stop by if you ever want to. My aunt makes killer pie.”

Lucerys glanced at you then, his green eyes catching the faint glow of the porch light. For a moment, you thought he might smile again, but instead, he just nodded. “Maybe,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t a promise.

You stepped back, watching as the car rolled out of the driveway, its taillights disappearing down the road.

Cannibal whined softly, nudging your leg as you climbed the steps to the porch. You gave him a reassuring pat, but your mind was elsewhere—still in the car, still sitting beside the boy whose walls felt impenetrable.

Inside, your great-aunt greeted you warmly, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting from the kitchen. But even as you settled in, the house feeling as cosy and safe as ever, your thoughts kept circling back to Lucerys.

The way he had looked at you when the song played. The way he had shut himself off the moment you’d arrived.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever let you see the parts of himself he kept locked away—or if he was already too far out of reach.

"You look distraught, my darling. Would you like me to read your cards?" Glorina's voice was gentle, a soft nudge trying to pull you out of the whirlwind of thoughts that swirled in your mind, all circling around him—Lucerys.

"If you want to..." The words slipped from your lips reluctantly. You didn’t have the heart to turn her away, even though the last thing you needed right now was another card depicting dismal outcomes. With a resigned sigh, you knocked three times on the worn card pack, handing the control over to her as if that simple act could somehow change your fate.

Glorina shuffled the deck, her fingers moving effortlessly over the worn edges until she laid three cards face-up on the table. The first one was the Seven of Pentacles reversed, its imagery twisted and bleak. Next was the Two of Swords, depicting a figure blindfolded and balanced precariously between two choices. Finally, there was the Three of Swords, a stark illustration showing a heart pierced by three sharp blades.

You leaned back in your chair, letting out a long sigh, your fingers rubbing your temples in frustration. "Let me guess... nothing good, huh?"

Glorina’s expression turned serious as she examined the cards. "You feel trapped and powerless, don’t you? Are you trying to avoid something?" Her brow arched, probing deeper. "You need to make a decision and face the situation head-on." Her words hung in the air, heavy with foreboding.

"Either way, I’ll get hurt..." you murmured, your eyes lingering on the card with the three swords through the heart—a painful reminder of your current turmoil. Feeling the weight of the reading press down on you, you quickly finished your dinner, the taste as bland as the evening felt.

With a sense of urgency, you retreated to your room, a storm of emotions brewing inside. Maybe, just maybe, screaming into a pillow would bring you some relief from the ache in your chest.

Tossing and turning, sleep eludes you once again. This simply won’t do. Despite the pouring rain, a wild urge pushes you to the docks, the town's most recognizable spot. You sprint there in your flimsy white dress, a picture of a maiden lost in her thoughts.

As you approach the docks, the boathouse comes into view on the empty pier. It’s the one that belongs to Glorina’s late husband's brother’s son, always welcoming with its open door—one of the perks of living in a small town where everyone knows each other. The raindrops fall harder, and the thunder rumbles in the distance. Logic tells you to stay away from the water during a storm, but your mind isn’t listening right now.

You burst into the wooden boathouse, breathless and soaked to the skin. Your dress clings to you, heavy and dripping, but the warm summer air wraps around you like a comforting blanket, chasing away any chill. You pause for a moment, taking in the scent of wet wood mixed with the sharp tang of the sea. It feels almost like a refuge from the storm outside.

You hadn’t expected anyone to be here, but the faint creak of wood under shifting weight made you freeze in place.

At first, you thought it was just the wind rattling the old structure, but then you saw him—Lucerys. He was seated near the far corner, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a sketchbook balanced on his knees. A dim lantern sat beside him, casting flickering shadows across his face, making his green eyes glow eerily in the dim light.

He looked up sharply, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw you. For a second, neither of you moved. The only sound was the rain hammering against the roof, the storm outside mirroring the chaos inside you.

“You’re soaked,” he said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, but there was an edge of concern in it.

You looked down at yourself, noticing how your dress clung to your skin like a second layer. “Yeah. I guess I am,” you replied, your voice trembling—not from the cold, but from the sheer force of everything you’d been bottling up.

Lucerys set his sketchbook aside, standing slowly. His movements were tentative like he wasn’t sure if he should come closer or keep his distance. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I just… needed to get out. Clear my head.”

“In a storm?” His tone wasn’t scolding, but there was a thread of disbelief in it.

You shrugged, looking away. “Didn’t think that far ahead.”

Lucerys sighed, running a hand through his damp curls. He hesitated before shrugging off his hoodie and holding it out to you. “Here,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re gonna catch a cold.”

You stared at him for a moment, the gesture so simple yet so uncharacteristically kind that it left you momentarily speechless. Slowly, you reached out and took the hoodie, your fingers brushing against his.

“Thanks,” you murmured, wrapping it around your shoulders. It was warm and smelled faintly of pine and something distinctly him—clean, familiar, and comforting.

He sat back down, leaning against the wall as he watched you carefully. “Why here?” he asked after a moment, his gaze unwavering.

You hesitated, unsure how much to say. “I don’t know,” you admitted finally, sitting down on a nearby crate. “It felt safe, I guess.”

Lucerys nodded slowly as if he understood. “Yeah. It does.”

The silence between you was thick but not uncomfortable. The sound of the rain pounding on the roof and the occasional rumble of thunder filled the space, giving you both an excuse not to speak.

“Do you ever feel like…” You trailed off, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. But when Lucerys turned to look at you, his expression expectant, you forced yourself to continue. “Like you’re stuck? Like no matter what you do, you’rejust… trapped?”

Lucerys’ jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he said, “Yeah. All the time. I don’tthink I’m good at being what people want me to be.”

His words hung in the air, raw and unguarded, and they made your chest tighten.

“What do they want you to be?” you asked, your voice gentle but cautious.

He exhaled, shaking his head. “Perfect. Or something close to it. Jace—he’s my older brother—he’s always talking about responsibility, about doing what’s expected. About how I need to ‘step up.’” His voice dipped, bitterness creeping into his tone. “Like I don’t already know that.”

You leaned forward slightly, trying to catch his gaze. “That’s not fair to you.”

He gave a short, humourless laugh. “Yeah, well, life’s not fair. My mom… she doesn’t say it, but I know she’s counting on me. To hold things together. To be… good enough.”

“Good enough for who?”

“For them,” he said simply, his voice breaking slightly. “For my family. For everyone.”

He glanced at you then, the weight of his words pulling down on his green eyes. “You ever feel like you’re running, but no matter how fast you go, you’re still stuck in the same place?”

The honesty in his voice left you momentarily speechless. You nodded slowly. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I think I know what that feels like.”

He looked away again, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I don’t let people in,” he admitted, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. “Because every time I do… they leave.”

“Not everyone leaves,” you said instinctively, the words slipping out before you could think about them.

Lucerys’s gaze snapped back to yours, sharp and searching. “They do,” he said firmly. “My dad. People I thought were my friends. They always leave.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your throat tighten. You wanted to tell him he was wrong, that you wouldn’t leave, but the words caught in your throat. How could you promise something you weren’t even sure you could keep?

“I think…” you began hesitantly, “Sometimes people leave because they don’t know how to stay. Not because of you.”

Lucerys stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, his lips twisted into a faint, bitter smile. “Maybe. But it doesn’t change anything. It’s just easier to keep everyone at a distance.”

You hesitated, your fingers curling around the edge of the crate you were sitting on. “That’s a lonely way to live,” you said softly.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “It is.”

The rain continued to drum against the roof, the sound filling the heavy silence between you. You wanted to reach out, to tell him you were different, but the fear of saying something wrong kept you frozen.

Finally, you asked, “So why’d you let me in?”

Lucerys looked startled, his lips parting slightly before he quickly averted his gaze. “I didn’t,” he said, his voice quiet.“Not really.”

“You sketched me,” you pointed out, your voice firmer now. “That has to mean something.”

His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his sketchbook, his shoulders tense. “I don’t know why I did that,” he muttered.“You just… stood out. In the store.”

Lucerys’s gaze flickered to yours, and for a moment, the mask he always wore seemed to slip. The boy behind the walls, raw and unguarded, looked back at you, his green eyes filled with something that felt achingly familiar—fear, hope, and a longing he didn’t know how to name.

But just as quickly, the moment was gone. He shook his head, letting out a shaky breath. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,”

Lucerys didn’t say anything else after that. He stared out at the storm as if it might offer him answers, his green eyes fixed on a point far beyond the boathouse walls. The rain hammered against the roof, a relentless rhythm that matched the heavy pounding of your heart.

You sat in silence, unsure of what else to say. The vulnerability he’d just shown you was raw and rare, and you didn’twant to push too hard. Still, the ache in his voice lingered in your mind, pulling at something deep inside you.

Finally, Lucerys let out a breath, running a hand through his damp curls. “You should get back,” he said, his voice quiet.“It’s late.”

You frowned, reluctant to leave him like this. “I don’t mind staying.”

He glanced at you, his brows knitting together. “It’s pouring outside.”

“You don’t say,” you replied with a faint smile, gesturing to your soaked dress. “I think I noticed.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips before disappearing just as quickly. “I’m serious. You’ll get sick.”

“So will you, sitting here with your wet clothes.” You tilted your head toward him, challenging. “Unless you want me to go and leave you to brood by yourself?”

Lucerys sighed, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him again. “I’m fine,” he said, though his tone lacked conviction. “This isn’t the first storm I’ve sat through.”

“Maybe not,” you said softly. “But you shouldn’t have to sit through it alone.”

For a moment, Lucerys didn’t respond. He stared at you, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable—confusion, maybe, or disbelief. Then, almost unnoticeably, he nodded toward the crate beside him.

“Suit yourself,” he said, his voice low.

You smiled faintly, moving to sit closer to him. The wood creaked beneath you as you settled in, the two of you side by side in the dim light of the lantern.

The silence stretched, but it didn’t feel heavy this time. The storm outside seemed to soften, the rain still steady but less urgent, as though the world was giving you both a moment to breathe.

“You know,” you said after a while, your voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t think you’re as alone as you think you are.”

Lucerys turned to look at you, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you said, meeting his gaze, “you’ve got people who care about you. Even if they don’t say it the right way, or even if they mess it up sometimes.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a quiet laugh, though it was more bitter than amused. “You don’t know them.”

“No,” you admitted. “But I know you. A little, at least.”

Lucerys blinked, caught off guard by your words. He opened his mouth as if to argue, then closed it again, shaking his head.

“You’re different,” he said finally, his voice soft. “I don’t know why, but… you are.”

The vulnerability in his words made your chest tighten, and you found yourself leaning closer to him, the space between you narrowing. “Is that a bad thing?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the rain and thunder.

Lucerys hesitated, his green eyes locked on yours. For a moment, you thought he might retreat, and put his walls back up. But then he shook his head, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

“No,” he said. “It’s not.”

The two of you sat there, the storm raging outside and the warmth of his presence grounding you. The walls of the boathouse seemed to fade away, leaving only the soft rhythm of your breaths and the steady hum of the rain.

His gaze lingered on your face, tracing the curves of your cheekbones and the fullness of your lips as if committing every detail to memory. The air between you felt charged, heavy with a tension he didn't understand but couldn't ignore.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a feather-light touch. His skin was warm, his touch gentle yet tinged with a barely restrained intensity. Your breath hitched at the contact, a shiver running down your spine that had nothing to do with the dampness of your dress.

Lucerys' eyes flickered to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze, darkening with an emotion he couldn't quite name. The space between you seemed to shrink, the storm outside fading into insignificance compared to the electricity crackling in the air.

You just sat there, gazing at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Fear clutched at you, making it hard to find your voice. You worried that even a whisper might shatter this fragile moment and drive Luke back behind the tall walls he had built around his heart. You parted your lips slightly, a soft, shaky sigh escaping as you became lost in the deep, warm intensity of his gaze. The room felt charged with unspoken feelings, and time seemed to slow, wrapping around you both.

Lucerys sat frozen, his heart pounding as he gazed at you with wonder and trepidation. The air between you thrummed with palpable energy, the unspoken words and feelings hanging heavy in the dim light of the lantern.

Slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, he leaned closer, his face mere inches from yours. His breath mingled with your own.

Time seemed to hold its breath, the rain and thunder fading into a distant murmur as Lucerys reached up with a trembling hand, his fingers grazing your jawline with the lightest touches. His gaze flicked down to your lips, lingering there for a long, charged moment before meeting your eyes once more.

"Tell me to stop," he breathed, his voice low and rough with an emotion he couldn't quite articulate. "Please, tell me to stop…"

But even as he said the words, he made no move to pull away, his body radiating a heat that seeped into your skin through the damp fabric of your dress. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, the depth of feeling in those green eyes making your heart race and your pulse pound in your ears.

You could see the battle raging within him, the war between the part of him that yearned to close the distance and the part that feared the consequences of surrendering to this overwhelming pull. The air crackled with tension, the moment stretching between you like a taut bowstring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

Lucerys swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he fought for control. But the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable, the longing for connection, for intimacy, for something more than the fleeting glances and stilted conversation you'd shared thus far. It was a longing he'd suppressed for so long, a desire he'd never dared to voice aloud.

"Please…" he whispered again, his voice breaking on the word as his gaze searched yours, silently pleading for guidance.

"Don't stop," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. You could hardly catch your breath, your chest heaving with the effort of drawing air.

You leaned in. Your heart slammed against your ribcage, urging you to close the remaining distance, to answer his unspoken question with a kiss.

But you held back, trembling on the knife's edge of surrender, waiting for him to take the final step. Your body thrummed with fear and exhilaration, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

Lucerys's breath hitched as your words reached his ears, the soft whisper settling over him like a balm. The tension in his shoulders eased, the fight draining out of him as the last of his reservations crumbled away. Your permission, your encouragement, was all the invitation he needed to surrender.

Unable to resist any longer, Lucerys surged forward, closing the scant distance between you in a heartbeat. His lips met yours in a searing kiss that sent electricity through your veins. It was a kiss filled with pent-up longing and barely restrained desire.

One large hand cupped your cheek, his calloused palm warm and slightly rough against the smooth skin. The other hand settled on your waist, his fingers splaying across the damp fabric of your dress, tugging you closer. His body was hard and solid against your own, the muscles of his chest and abdomen pressing into the soft curves of your figure.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, you found yourself melting against him, your curves moulding to the hard planes of his body. Your fingers curled into the damp fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him as the world tilted and spun. The storm outside faded into insignificance, the only sound was the harsh rasp of his breathing and the pounding of your own pulse in your ears.

Lucerys kissed you like a man starved, pouring weeks' worth of longing and desire into the single, searing embrace. His lips crashed against yours again and again, each kiss more desperate than the last, as if he feared this moment would slip away and leave him bereft once more. The weight of his desire was a palpable thing, the heat of his skin searing you even through the barrier of your clothing.

Your breath came in short, sharp gasps between kisses, your lungs burning with the need for air. But you were dizzy with the taste of him, the feel of his strong body pinning you in place, the heat of his skin seeping through the damp fabric of his shirt. You clung to him, your fingers fisting in the worn cotton.

In between the fierce, hungry kisses, he peppered your jaw, your neck, the sensitive skin just behind your ear with far softer ones. His breath was hot against your flesh, his lips and tongue painting a scorching trail down the column of your throat.

"Need… more…" Lucerys panted against your skin, his voice low and needy. "Need to feel… need to touch…"

His hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them possessively as he hitched your legs up and around his waist, pulling you into his lap. The new position pressed your most intimate places against him, the heat of his arousal burning through the last of your defences.

A breathless moan escaped you as his hands gripped your thighs, hiking your dress up and pulling you astride him. The new position sent a jolt of white-hot need straight to your core. You could feel every hard, muscular inch of him pressed against you, igniting a hunger you never knew you had.

Your eyes fluttered closed, drunk on the feeling of his hands on your skin and his breath on your neck. The world narrowed down to the electric sensation of his touch, the pounding of your hearts, and the ragged sound of your breathing mingling in the charged air between you. You arched into him, your soft curves pressed against him.

Lucerys's fingers trembled as they slid up your thighs, pushing the damp fabric of your dress out of the way. His touch was feather-light, almost reverent as if he were worshipping every inch of newly exposed skin. He swallowed hard, drinking in the sight of you straddling his lap, your dress rucked up around your waist.

As his fingers brushed against the lace of your undergarments, he heard you gasp, the sound sending a jolt of electricity straight to his core.

His hands settled on your hips, gripping them gently, almost hesitantly, as if seeking permission. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with your own.

"I want to touch you," he whispered, his voice low and rough with a need he could hardly articulate.

He leaned in, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the hollow of your throat, to the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. Each kiss was a question, a silent plea for more, for permission to explore the depths of this newfound desire.

You admired his beauty, his dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he gazed at you with hunger and desire.

Slowly, hesitantly, you slid my fingers through his soft curls, gently tugging, drunk on the feeling of his skin beneath your touch. Your heart raced as his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer.

Lucerys shuddered as your fingers raked through his hair, his eyes fluttering closed at the sensation. The gentle tugging of your fingers ignited something primal in him, a hunger that clawed at his insides, demanding to be fed.

He surged forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. His tongue delved into the warm cavern of your mouth, stroking along the soft flesh, tasting you, consuming you.

"Tell me," he gasped against your lips, "tell me what you want."

Breathless, you gazed into Luke's intense, searching eyes. "You," I breathed, your lips brushing against his. "I need you." Your voice trembled with nerves and desire, your body aching for his touch.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked softly, his grip on your hips loosening slightly as if giving you a chance to change your mind. "We shouldn't… not here, not like this."

Lucerys hesitated for a moment, his brows furrowing as a flicker of doubt crossed his face. He searched your eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty, any reason to pull back. But seeing only the reflection of his desire staring back at him, he knew he could not deny either of you any longer.

With a low, almost pained sound in the back of his throat, Lucerys stood, easily lifting you into his arms. He cradled you against his chest, holding you close as he carried you towards the old bed in the corner of the boathouse.

As he loomed over you, his gaze drank you in, taking in the way your blonde hair splayed out across the pillow, the rise and fall of your breasts with each shallow breath. It was evident he was both thrilled and terrified to be here, caught somewhere between boyish enthusiasm and a deep, fierce desire.

Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest as you gazed at Lucerys through the dim light filtering in through the small window. You felt shy suddenly, like that giddy teenage girl you thought you had left behind.

"Lucerys," you breathed out, hesitantly reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your trembling fingers. "Are you… so?" you asked lamely, words escaping you.

You searched his green eyes. A blush crept across your cheeks as you realized how intimate this moment felt, how vulnerable you both were.

Lucerys leaned into your touch, his skin warm and slightly rough beneath your soft fingers. He covered your hand with his own, turning his head to press a gentle kiss to your palm, his lips lingering against your skin.

"No," he admitted softly, his voice low and slightly rough with emotion. "I'm not. I've never… I mean, I want to, with you. More than anything. But…" He trailed off, swallowing hard as he tried to find the right words.

Lucerys took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes flickering away from yours for a moment as he struggled to express the fears and doubts that still lingered in the back of his mind.

Without voicing his thoughts, Lucerys leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, searching kiss. His hands began to wander over your curves, mapping the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips.

Each touch was tentative at first, as if seeking permission, before growing bolder, more confident. He tugged gently at the neckline of your dress, exposing more of your soft skin to his hungry gaze. His breath grew ragged as he explored your body, marvelling at the way you responded to his touch.

Your body tingled everywhere his fingers grazed your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You arched into his touch, craving more, as a breathy whimper escaped your kiss-swollen lips. It felt too intimate, too perfect, like a scene from a romance novel. Being here with Luke, tucked away in this cosy boathouse as the storm raged outside, just the two of you…

"Luke…" you breathed out, your cheeks flushed and heart racing as you gazed up at him through heavy lids. "You can take it off," you whispered, hardly believing the bold words leaving your own lips. Your pulse hammered in your throat.

Lucerys's breath grew ragged as he slowly, almost reverently, began to peel the fabric up your thighs, inch by excruciating inch. His fingertips brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps and igniting sparks of electricity in their wake.

"Tell me if you need me to stop," he breathed, his voice rough with emotion and the effort of holding himself back. His eyes never left yours, searching, seeking, desperate for any sign that he was doing this right.

You nod softly, your eyes wide and trusting as they meet his gaze. A soft, breathy "I don't want you to stop," falls from your lips as you lean into his touch, craving more.

Lucerys swallowed hard at your breathy words, feeling a surge of heat rush through him at the trust and desire he saw shining in your eyes. He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to stroke along yours, tasting you, consuming you.

His hands slid up to the hem of your dress, bunching the fabric in his fists as he slowly, teasingly, drew it up and over your head. He broke the kiss just long enough to tug the garment off and toss it carelessly aside, his eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of your bare skin.

"Beautiful," he breathed, his voice low and rough with a need he could hardly articulate. His calloused hands skimmed over your curves, mapping every dip and swell, committing each inch of your skin to memory. He cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over the hardened peaks of your nipples, drawing a gasp from your throat.

You could feel the heat of his skin, the strength of his hands on your bare flesh, yet you yearned for more. An imbalance lingered between you, one you suddenly needed to correct.

"I… I want to see you too," you breathed out, your voice small but filled with hesitant courage. Your words were a plea, a soft, intimate request as you traced the firm line of his chest through his shirt.

A flicker of uncertainty crossed his handsome features, and you realized he was still guarding himself, keeping a part of himself hidden behind the fabric. You needed to bridge that gap between you, to break down the last of the walls he'd built.

Lucerys hesitated, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes as he gazed down at you. The uncertainty was palpable, the weight of his past and his fears threatening to overwhelm him. But as he drank in the sight of you, bare and wanting beneath him, he knew he could not deny you this.

Almost shyly, he reached for the hem of his shirt, slowly peeling the damp fabric over his head. He tossed it aside, leaving him bare from the waist up. The moonlight through the window cast a silver glow over his skin, highlighting the lean muscles and the scattering of freckles across his chest.

Lucerys's chest was toned, the muscles defined and strong from years of flying and training. A thin line of dark hair trailed down from his chest, disappearing beneath the waistband of his breeches. His skin was slightly flushed, a light sheen of sweat glistening in the dim light.

You gazed up at Lucerys, your heart pounding as you took in the sight of his bare torso. He looked like a Sea God standing before you, all lean muscle and tanned skin. You wanted to tell him how breathtaking he looked, how the sight of him stole the very air from your lungs, but the words stuck in your throat.

Instead, you reached out tentatively, placing your cold fingers on his stomach. You could feel the heat of his skin, the firmness of his muscles beneath your touch. Lucerys shuddered slightly at the contact, his breath hitching softly. Emboldened, you ran your hands up his chest, admiring the way his skin felt beneath your fingertips, the way his heart raced beneath his ribs.

His breath came faster, each inhale and exhale more ragged than the last as your hands explored his body with a boldness he hadn't expected.

He caught your wrist as your hand reached his navel, his fingers curling around yours and holding it still against his skin.

Lucerys gazed down at you, his green eyes dark and intense in the dim light. He swallowed hard, his tongue darting to wet his suddenly dry lips.

"Please," he breathed out, his voice low and rough with a desperation he could no longer hide. "Touch me."

His hand slid from your wrist to your elbow, his fingers trailing up your arm until he could tangle them with yours. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a fervent kiss to your palm before trailing his mouth to the inside of your wrist, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin.

Your heart raced as Luke's lips brushed against your wrist, the intimate gesture sending a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but gasp, the sound catching in your throat.

Emboldened by his plea, your hand drifted lower, tracing the line of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the firmness of his stomach muscles tensing under your touch.

Your fingers dipped just slightly beneath the waistband of his jeans, teasing the sensitive skin there.

Lucerys's abdomen clenched, muscles jerking beneath your teasing touch. A strangled groan escaped his lips, his hips jerking forward slightly as if seeking more contact. His grip on your wrist tightened, fingers curling around your arm instinctively.

Lucerys's breath was coming in short, sharp gasps now, his chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back. He was painfully hard, his arousal straining against the confines of his jeans. The denim was rough and coarse against his aching flesh, a contrast to the softness of your skin.

"More," he gasped out, his voice desperate and needy. "Please, I need… I need to feel you." His other hand slid down to cover yours, guiding it to the button of his jeans. With shaking fingers, he helped you pop the button open, the sound seeming to echo obscenely loud in the charged air between you.

You gazed up at Lucerys through your lashes, a soft smile playing at the corners of your mouth. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you slowly, teasingly, pulled down his zipper.

"You'll need to take these off," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Fear gripped your heart, a lingering uncertainty that he might still decide to leave at any moment. You longed to feel every inch of his skin against yours, to banish the last of the distance between you.

But you were still shy, still hesitant, unsure if you dared to believe this was truly happening.

Lucerys swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his ribs as he gazed down at you. The way you looked up at him, the shy smile playing at your lips, sent a bolt of longing straight to his core.

With trembling hands, he stood and shimmied out of his jeans, kicking them off to the side. He hesitated for a moment, standing before you in nothing but his boxers, before hooking his thumbs under the waistband and slowly pulling them down.

His breath hitched as the fabric slid over his aching arousal, his length springing free to stand proud and hard before him. He could feel your eyes on him, drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin, and he fought the urge to cover himself, to hide away from your heated look.

Your breath caught in your throat as you drank in the sight of Luke's naked form. You could feel your heart pounding wildly, a fluttering sensation in your stomach as you openly admired his masculine beauty.

With trembling fingers, you reached for the waistband of your knickers, slowly peeling the damp fabric down your thighs. You lifted your hips, pulling the garment off and tossing it carelessly to the growing pile of clothing on the floor.

Lucerys's eyes darkened with desire as he watched you remove the last barrier between your bodies. His gaze raked over your naked form, taking in every dip and curve, committing each detail to memory. He felt a surge of possessiveness, a fierce need to claim and worship and cherish every inch of you.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Lucerys leaned down, covering your body with his own. The feel of your bare skin against his was electric, sending a jolt of sensation racing through his veins. He shuddered, a low groan escaping his lips as he settled his hips between your thighs.

Lucerys's length, hard and heavy, nestled against your core. The heat of him seared you, the thick length of him throbbing against your most sensitive flesh. He rocked slowly, rubbing himself against you, coating his arousal in your slick heat.

His lips found yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. His hands slid down to grip your hips, holding you in place as he rolled against you, the friction delicious and maddening all at once. He swallowed your soft cries, his own breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps against your skin.

"Lucerys," you gasped, breaking free from the kiss to catch your breath. Your hands clawed at his back, nails digging into his skin, leaving angry red marks in their wake. The feeling of his hard length rubbing against your aching core was driving you wild with lust. You arched your back, pressing your body flush against his muscular frame as you panted softly.

Lucerys shuddered as your nails raked down his back, leaving red lines of passion in their wake. He groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he felt your body arch beneath his own, pressing against him with wanton desperation.

You could feel every thick, pulsing inch of him, and a flicker of fear raced through you at the realization of his impressive size. You knew it would hurt at first, stretching you, filling you.

"Please," you begged, your voice ragged and desperate as you bucked your hips against his, seeking more of that delicious friction. "Use your fingers first, Luke. I need… I need you to prepare me. I can't… I can't take all of you yet."

"Shh, it's alright," he murmured softly, his voice low and soothing. "I've got you. I'm going to take care of you."

His fingers teased along your entrance, stroking and caressing, before slowly sinking inside. He took his time, letting you adjust to the new sensation, before beginning to pump his fingers in and out of you. He curled them, rubbing against that spot deep inside that made your toes curl and your back arch off the bed.

Lucerys could feel how tight you were, your walls clenching around his invading fingers. He could only imagine how incredible it would feel to sink his length into your welcoming heat, to feel you enveloping him like a velvet glove. But he knew he had to be patient, had to take his time and make sure you were ready for him.

Your breath came in soft, needy gasps as you gazed up at Luke through hooded, half-lidded eyes.

"Mmm," you whimpered out, your voice breathy and quiet. "So good."

Your hips undulated against his hand as he worked his finger inside you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your arousal coating his finger as he pumped it in and out of your tight heat.

"Mmm, you feel so good," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "So tight and hot and perfect."

He added a second finger, then a third, stretching you slowly. His palm pressed against your mound, applying delicious pressure as he fingered you, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Tell me how it feels," he panted, his own arousal throbbing and aching with the need to be buried inside you. "Tell me what you need."

Lucerys paused, his fingers still buried deep inside your warmth. He gazed down at you, green eyes intense and searching as they roamed your flushed face. His thumb circled your sensitive pearl, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

"I want…" You trailed off, suddenly shy, before taking a deep breath and meeting his gaze. "I want you inside me. I'm ready now."

Lucerys swallowed hard, his heart pounding against his ribs at your boldly spoken words. He could hardly believe this was happening, that you wanted this as much as he did. With shaking hands, he reached down to grasp himself, aligning the broad head of his arousal with your dripping entrance.

He hesitated for a moment, giving you one last chance to change your mind. But when no protest came, he began to slowly push forward, the thick length of him parting your folds and sinking inch by delicious inch into your tight, welcoming heat.

Lucerys's breath caught in his throat at the exquisite sensation, his brows furrowing as he struggled to hold himself back. He could feel every pulse and quiver of your walls around him, gripping him like a vice.

"Oh gods," he gasped out, his voice strained. "You feel… you feel incredible."

"Ohh, fuck," a ragged cry tore from your throat as Luke drove his thick length deep inside you, stretching you around him. Your head fell against the pillow, hair fanning around you as you arched into him. You'd had lovers before, but none as well-endowed as him. He was so big, so hard, filling you utterly.

"Move, please, Luke," you mewled wantonly, your nails digging into his back. You needed him to move, to claim you utterly. The anticipation was driving you mad with lust.

Lucerys groaned as he felt your nails digging into his back, urging him on. He knew he should go slow, and take his time, but the way you were arching into him, the desperate pleas falling from your lips, made it impossible to hold back.

With a low growl, he began to move, his hips pulling back so only the tip remained inside you before surging forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your dripping cunt. He set a steady rhythm, each thrust driving the breath from your lungs, each retreat leaving you aching and empty until he filled you again.

Lucerys braced himself on his elbows, his strong arms trembling slightly from the new sensations. He gazed down at you, his eyes dark and intense, drinking in the way your face flushed with pleasure, the way your breasts bounced with each powerful thrust.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss as he drove himself deeper, harder, faster. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he loomed over you, his powerful body blanketing yours.

"Mmm, you feel so good inside me Luke. S-so deep."

Your fingers trembled as you cupped his chiselled jaw, pulling his face closer to yours. You drank in the sight of his handsome features, the stark contrast of your soft, delicate hands against his masculine face.

"Don't stop," you whimpered. "F-feel every inch of you, stretching me…" Your words trailed off into a soft moan as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves.

Lucerys shuddered as your fingers trembled against his jaw, your breathless praise sending a thrill down his spine. He nuzzled into your touch, his lips brushing against your palm as he gazed down at you with hooded eyes.

"Never…" he panted, his voice low and rough with desire. "Never want to stop. Feel… feel too good. So tight. So perfect."

"You're doing so good," you praised breathlessly, pulling Luke into a passionate kiss. You tugged at his lower lip, pulling it gently between your teeth.

Lucerys gasped as your teeth tugged at his lip, the sharp sensation sending a bolt of electricity straight to his groin. He shuddered, his hips stuttering for a moment before he regained his rhythm, thrusting deep and hard, filling you again and again.

Panting softly, you rested your forehead against his, gazing up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Each deep, slow thrust sent a jolt of pleasure racing through you, drawing a moan from your lips.

"S-seems like you're the one doing all the good things," he panted, his breath mingling with yours as he pressed his forehead against yours. "Feeling you… it's… it's..."

His hands slid down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he rolled into you, grinding his pelvis against yours. He kissed you again, hungry and desperate, swallowing your moans and cries of pleasure.

You gazed up at Luke through hooded eyes a breathless giggle escaping your lips at his praise.

"Mmm, you're one to talk," you murmured, your voice low and sultry. "The way you make me feel…" nipping playfully at his jaw.

You could feel the heat building between you, the air growing thick and heavy with your mingled breaths and soft, breathy moans. You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him closer until your lips were a mere hairsbreadth apart.

A shudder wracked through Lucerys's body as your fingers tangled in his hair, your breath mingling with his own. He could feel the heat building between your bodies, the sweat-slicked skin sliding deliciously with each powerful thrust of his hips.

"Can't… can't help it," he panted, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back. "You're just… mmm… so responsive. So perfect."

He claimed your mouth again, kissing you deeply, his tongue delving inside to tangle with yours. One hand slid up your side, cupping the slight weight of your breast, his thumb and forefinger rolling and pinching your nipple until it pebbled beneath his touch.

Lucerys could feel the pressure building at the base of his spine, his release fast approaching. But he gritted his teeth, determined to hold off until he'd brought you to yours first. He wanted to feel your walls clench around him as you came undone, wanted to hear his name on your lips as ecstasy overtook you.

You moaned into the heated kiss, your body arching into his touch as Lucerys's fingers teased and rolled your sensitive nipple. Sparks of pleasure radiated from the point of contact, stoking the fire that was rapidly building in your core.

"Mmm," you whined as he thrust deep, your walls starting to flutter and clench around his hard, throbbing length. "Lucerys, I'm…" Your words were interrupted by a loud needy cry as he suddenly took one nipple into his mouth.

Lucerys groaned around your nipple as he heard the need in your voice, the desperation. He sucked harder, swirling his tongue around the stiff peak as he felt your walls starting to flutter and clench around him. He could tell you were close, could feel your body tensing and shaking beneath his touch.

"Touch yourself," he murmured urgently against your breast, his voice vibrating against your skin.

Your breath hitched as Lucerys's words sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you. You couldn't hold back the desperate whimper that tore from your throat, your pussy clenching around his throbbing length. His commanding tone set your nerves alight.

Shuddering, you obeyed the command, your hand drifting down the curve of your belly to the junction between your thighs. You found your clit, swollen and aching with need and began to rub tight, swift circles over the sensitive nub. The added stimulation had you seeing stars, a choked cry of ecstasy spilling from your lips.

Lucerys's hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your clenching heat as he felt your fingers find your clit. He could feel your walls starting to ripple and squeeze around him, the sensation driving him wild with lust.

"Yes, just like that," he growled, his voice low and rough with desire. "Don't stop touching yourself. I want to feel you come undone around my cock."

He pistoned his hips faster, each thrust driving the breath from your lungs as he chased his own rapidly approaching release. One hand slid down to cover yours, his fingers tangling with your own as he guided your movements, helping you rub your clit in tight, desperate circles.

You gazed up at Luke with lust-glazed eyes, your plump lips parted in a silent scream of pleasure. Brows furrowed, you panted out between clenched teeth, "I'm… I'm so close, Luke. Don't stop."

Your fingers were under his guiding touch as you rubbed at your throbbing clit together. You could feel your walls fluttering wildly around his pistoning length, gripping him.

Lucerys could feel your walls starting to clench erratically around his throbbing cock, your body tensing as your climax approached. He could see the ecstasy playing out across your face, your lips parted, your eyes glazed with lust.

"Y-you feel… ohh," he panted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "I'm going to… fuck…"

He could feel the pressure building at the base of his spine, his heavy balls drawing up tight against his body as his orgasm approached. He knew he couldn't hold back for much longer.

"Lucerys," you gasped out, your voice breathy and weak. "I'm so… Ohh fuuck!" Your words dissolved into a shameless moan as the intense sensation of your climax ripped through you like a tidal wave.

Your body convulsed and shook beneath his. You could feel your release gushing out around his length, your arousal coating his shaft and dripping down onto the sheets below.

Lucerys cried out, his voice breaking with pleasure as he felt your walls clamp down around him. The sensation was too much, too intense, and with a guttural moan, he buried himself to the hilt inside you as his own release crashed over him.

His hips jerked and stuttered as he emptied himself inside you, his thick seed spurting in hot, heavy ropes against your fluttering walls. He shuddered and gasped, his body wracked with the force of his climax as he clung to you, holding you tight against him.

Panting harshly, Lucerys collapsed against you, his muscular frame blanketing your own as the last waves of his release shuddered through him. He peppered your face with soft kisses, his lips brushing against your skin like the gentlest of feathers.

Softly, you turned Lucerys's face, pulling him into a tender kiss. Your lips melded against his. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you lost yourself in the gentle brush of your mouths, the intimate press of your bodies.

Lucerys melted into the tender kiss, his lips moving softly against yours in a dance as old as time.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving inside to tangle with yours in a sensual dance. He could feel your fingers tracing patterns on his back, your touch soothing and exciting in equal measure.

Breathless and sated, you clung to him, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his back. The storm outside raged on, wind howling and rain lashing against the window panes, but inside your little world, all was tranquil. You nuzzled into his chest, breathing in the clean, masculine scent of his skin. Your curves fit perfectly against the hard planes of his body, two puzzle pieces interlocking into one.

Lucerys shuddered, a soft groan escaping his lips as he felt his spent length twitch inside your still-fluttering heat. He knew he should pull out, but he couldn't bring himself to separate from you, not yet. He wanted to stay like this forever, joined with you in the most intimate way possible.

Sighing softly, Lucerys nuzzled into your neck, breathing in your scent as he held you close.

In that moment, Lucerys realised he was falling in love with you, losing himself in the softness of your touch.

The warmth of Lucerys’s body pressed against yours lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep. The sound of the storm had become a distant murmur, fading into the edges of your awareness as exhaustion overtook you.

You didn’t feel him pull away.

Lucerys lay beside you, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest in the dim glow of the lantern. His fingers itched to reach out and brush a strand of hair from your face, but he stopped himself.

This shouldn’t have happened.

The thought echoed in his mind, sharp and unforgiving. He couldn’t let himself believe in this, in you—not when it was bound to end the way it always did. He had let his guard down, let you in, and now the walls he’d spent years building felt like they were crumbling around him.

Lucerys sat up slowly, careful not to wake you. He ran a hand through his curls, his breath shaky as his mind raced. He could still feel the ghost of your touch, the way your body had moved with his, the softness of your lips against his own. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and utterly terrifying.

Because he knew—knew deep down—that if he let you stay, if he let himself fall any further, it would destroy him when you inevitably left. He stood, his movements silent as he dressed quickly, his damp clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He glanced back at you one last time, his heart twisting painfully in his chest at the sight of you curled up on the small bed.

You looked peaceful, and content, and it made him feel selfish for even thinking about leaving. But he couldn’t stay.

Lucerys slipped out of the boathouse, the door creaking softly behind him as he stepped into the rain-soaked night. The storm had passed, leaving behind a heavy stillness that seemed to press down on him. He walked down the docks, his footsteps muffled against the wet planks.

The guilt clawed at him, a relentless ache that wouldn’t go away. He told himself it was for the best, that putting distance between you now would save him the inevitable heartbreak later. But even as he thought it, the pain of leaving you felt worse than anything he could imagine.

By the time the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, Lucerys was long gone, leaving behind only the faint imprint of his presence in the boathouse.

When you woke, the space beside you was empty.

You blinked sleepily, your body sore but pleasantly warm from the remnants of the night before. At first, you thought he’d just stepped outside, maybe to get some air or watch the sunrise. But as you sat up and glanced around the small room, the absence of his belongings told a different story.

“Lucerys?” you called softly, your voice rasping from sleep.

There was no answer, only the faint sound of waves lapping against the dock outside.

A sinking feeling settled in your chest as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. Your bare feet touched the cool wood floor, grounding you as your mind raced to make sense of his disappearance.

Pulling on your dress his hoodie that he had surprisingly left behind, which still smelled faintly of salt and him, you stepped outside. The boathouse was eerily quiet, the storm from the night before leaving behind a fresh, rain-soaked scent in the air.

You scanned the empty docks, your heart sinking further when you saw no sign of him.

The ache in your chest grew sharper as the truth began to sink in. He had left.

[goo34ter]

As I dive deeper and deeper into the Jaivik lore and shipping of arcane, I realize I simply cannot hold my thoughts in any longer. pt2

This contrast is what balances them so greatly, while Viktor is the voice of reason Jayce is there to provide words of the heart. In season two we can see that even in Jayces absence Viktor gets caught up in his mind and applies to much reason to the world (though im sure the Hex core/ anomaly had a part in this too) wich is what leads him to dreeming his own imperfection just that, imperfections, something to be fixed and perfected rather than something that makes him him, and helled lead him to success. When jayce goes through the anomaly and essentially goes apeshit, I think one of the reasons is because Viktors ability to apply reason and make him stop, think, and asses isn't present, leading him to be consumed by his emotions because there is no regulator. 

This immense co- dependency is mostly likely stemmed from the vast amount of time they have spent together through development of Hextech. Why do they need to exercise these weaker parts of themselves if the other is able to take them over when needed. They play into eachothers strong suits. If you've ever met someone whose able to do that math to your music , or art to your ideas you know how quickly a bond can form even if its not inherently romantic. You are able to work seamlessly because you possess abilities that work well with each other but also because you know where the other lacks and know how frustrating it can be to get your visions int fruition because of those lacks. I Have had had a bond similar in the way that is so much more familial, they are usually a one time thing never really recreatable, not only because its a product of years of development but because of an inherent awareness of the other. When I lost this relationship there was genuinely a part of me that felt missing, wich is why i understand how devastated both Viktor andJayce became in the absence of one another. There's no one to connect with, no one to share revelations or hear your though and answer your questions, to question you, to push your limits to just understand you for you.

This is where I think things get murky, because unless you've truly had a similar relationship that Viktor and Jayce have it could be hard to understand the level of care they have for one another without it being romantic at all. When you are able to form a bond like this, its a product of years of dedication, and development. A slow but steady exposure into eachothers lives. This alone is extremely intimate, which is why their relationship can be seen as both romantic and brotherly love.

Their romantic love can be seen through small acts of “devotions”, like jayce signaling to viktor he doesn't have to get up when they are facing the council, or Viktor allowing Jayce to support him with a hand on his back when walking off the bridge, even after saying people from the undercity are dangerous. These are all a lot more personal and intimate actions that stem from years spent together. Small things that don't seem like alot but to each other mean a lot more, because they understand each other and see each other. Knows what the other needs to keep moving forward because that is what they themselves want to do, move forward.

I think there may have been a point however, between victor's death and his resuscitation where Jayce began to place more importance on their relationship, deeming it something beyond that of just brothers. In the first episode (i think) of season two Jayce is literally cradling viktor’s cane like a sad victorian widow. And although I too would be devastated if i lost the only person who so passionately shared my dream i think the time jayce had simply to think about viktor and look at him, brought him to develop their relationship beyond just that of brothers. Hes using Viktors notes to brink him back to life, everything hes using is reminding him of the person hes trying to save, at what point does his desperation to save a friend become devotion? Although initially Jayce goes to Mell for his worries about viktor health he later brings himself to viktor, sleeping and spending almost all his time in the lab while viktor is comatosed, Mell has to bring herself to Jayce, because he's no longer seeking her out.

[li-an-nie]

The origin of Isagi’s talent and a message for us (ft. Naruhaya & Kaiser)

I've been thinking about this for quite a long while... and today I finally want to share with you my theory – or rather explanation – for Isagi Yoichi's character and where his talent for adaptability comes from, as well as our own takeaways we can draw from Kaneshiro's characters.

This is a lot, but I think it shows how powerful the story of Blue Lock really can be!

Transformation

People often like to joke about Slursagi - how this ordinary guy with the seemingly most ordinariest of parents has so far spit out some of the wildest insults on the field haha. Well, sadly I don’t have an explanation for all of that, but I do have one for his incredibly fast and exponential progress in Blue Lock. I mean, we all know by now, as Naruhaya has said before and as was kinda picked up in the most recent chapters – it's his innate aptitude for adaptability, learning and change. Destroying yourself and then rebuilding your best version. Abandoning everything else and thinking of yourself as just a means to an end. While everyone else in Blue Lock had good enough soccer skills to manage just fine on their own so far, this is the method Isagi had to use in order to keep up with all the other players.

(see Ch. 53)

The question is just, where did this amazing talent come from? Is this a learned skill or a mutation, as Ego talked about? Is it nurture or nature?

If we look at it, the other guys in Blue Lock have all these sad backstories, traumas and toxic family relationships and whatnot. Yet Isagi has come so far, despite his ordinary background. Or rather... because of it. Or rather... only someone with a background like him could actually pull this off..! Why? Because Isagi has something that many of us don’t – unconditional love and support.

Again, this is just my own interpretation, but think about the term ‘destroying yourself’ first – what the hell does that even mean (if we ignore the edginess in that statement)?

(This is going to get super abstract, and even I don’t 100% know what I’m talking about, but hear me out first.)

It can mean so much – destroying your personality, your preconceptions of the world or a field, your prejudices, your obsessions, your pride, your fears, your regrets, basically anything that is capable of holding you back. Most people can’t simply do that. Naruhaya couldn’t. We all have inhibitions about certain things, no matter how hard we try, it often feels impossible to let go of certain thoughts and emotions. We're tethered to the past, afraid of losing our ‘self’ we’ve built in the process. There’s always a fear – if we fail, if we slip up, we might genuinely end up with nothing but our own ruin and failures, and that’s why we can never really go 100% of the way.

But Isagi can.

(see Ch. 55)

Origin

Isagi grew up in an ordinary household. But I'd say his family, his parents are actually far from ordinary.

We see it in the spin-off novel first, where Isagi’s incredible spatial awareness was apparent from a young age, making him very timid and much like a scaredy-cat in the beginning. But instead of scolding or condemning him, his parents always tried to understand and support him. And the same applied when Isagi first expressed his desire for a soccer ball.

(see BL Spin-Off - Isagi Yoichi Ch.2)

It doesn't matter if he's a crybaby, as long as he grows up healthy. For the first time, their timid, only son showed them what he wanted to do with his own will. That alone was enough to satisfy them completely.

With that out the way, this scene you probably remember from the manga is more than enough to illustrate everything (Ch. 152).

"You’re still our son, whether you’re special or average. What makes me happy is that you’re doing what you want, and giving your best at it."

"Whether you win or lose, no matter what… we’ll always be there for you, Yocchan."

"So live your life as you want."

Jesus Christ. If that’s not the most loving and supportive parents in the world, then what is?

Isagi’s parents have simply no expectations of him. They love and support him so unconditionally. They encourage and adore him, and they will always think of him their precious son, no matter if he wins or loses, if he chooses to live an average person’s life or risk everything to become the best striker in the world. Isagi knows this, and he grew up like this, he grew up with a certainty that no matter what you will still be loved. That’s why he can sacrifice everything of himself – because ultimately, under that everything is something that will never leave, and this certainty is what enables him to push so far in the first place. He developed a mindset that could push itself to its limits, and it directly impacted not only his life decisions but his evolution on the soccer field as well.

(see Ch. 55)

Naruhaya, on the other hand, had the same talent for adaptability, but he wasn't able to go as far as Isagi. Because unlike Isagi, there were things he had to protect, the stakes were too high – his sisters, and their precarious financial situation. Even though a dire situation like this should enable him to push himself even further, that stake is also exactly what held him back in the end. In his case, it matters so much whether he wins or loses. When it starts to matter, you ultimately become afraid of what will happen if you do lose, and for him that meant so much more than just the end of his dreams. Isn’t it natural to feel more under stress when the stakes are higher?

Opposites

So because of this foundation that Isagi has, he is different than the rest. This would kind of speak against the assumption I had at the beginning of Blue Lock, that his ordinariness is meant to represent all of us. With basically the message that anyone can evolve and transform themselves for the better, just like Isagi. But to be honest that was already thrown out of the window through the spin-off, where you see that Isagi was already gifted as a child. And I’m not even sure if this was supposed to be Kaneshiro’s intended takeaway to begin with, but there’s another way this message can fit together. The missing piece lies in Kaiser.

Because yeah, we all saw what Isagi realized in Ch. 282 was basically following the same thing Kaiser did 20 chapters before (discard everything but your original ego).

If we take into account what we know Isagi, it becomes all the more heartbreaking and ironic when we actually see Kaiser do the same type of evolution in Ch. 262 for the first time – I quote, “past achievements, pride, everything he ever won”, literally the joy he felt about becoming human, he was willing to destroy and throw it all away, he became zero, despite knowing that if he fails that’s all there would be left – zero.

(see Ch. 262)

He’s always had zero, and the soccer ball is the first thing he ever truly ‘gains’. After his career takes off, he slowly acquired more and more, fame, money, achievements, you name it. This would be the first time he possesses so much, but he doesn’t know the pain of losing something yet, because he never had anything before to begin with. Kaiser built himself a high mountain out of things he never had, but then was willing to risk the pain of losing everything and roll back down into that pit of nothing again, all for the sake of his goal. If that's not strength, then what is?

And it’s also a direct contrast to Isagi.

Isagi and Kaiser are opposites, they’re extremes coming from completely opposite worlds and family backgrounds. And yet they are also exactly the same, because they had the same strengths and resolves and were able to undergo the same kind of evolution. One has all the love and one has none of it, one never questioned being human and one never believed to be one, yet they both were able to discard everything of themselves and rebuild a better version – all for the sake of their goals.

Takeaway

So coming back to the message, how does that apply to us, the average person? Isagi and Kaiser represent a spectrum, and if you ever feel stuck somewhere in life, then remember – you are somewhere in between those two worlds. Doesn't that mean that you're capable of the same kind of change too? I also don’t think it matters whether you’re a genius or talented learner, because in real life there’s no clear line between those things anyway. Every one of us excels at something and every one of us has to learn and adapt in other areas. But what Blue Lock ultimately shows, is that no matter what background, age or ambition, in the end, the thing that can push us forward the most is our own dreams and ego. We are all capable of change.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk!

[wufflesvetinari]

wyllstarion rec list part 2

[part 1]

hi. i keep the wyllstarion tag open always on a chrome tab in my heart. the theme of this set is "look at the goddamn CRAFT in this thing!!!" as i slam my fist into the ground, weeping

"It's a long road (it's a long walk)" - @acephalouscreature. LISTEN. would you like to read a fairy tale set in hell, starring a guy (wyll) who KNOWS he is in a fairy tale set in hell, and thinks he has all of the tropes figured out despite his inexplicable amnesia? weird how that random handsome guy who keeps offering him dangerous bargains seems to be pretty invested in keeping him alive. this is a fic that drops you straight into the action and trusts you to unpack what is going on--and then unfolds in a gorgeous and achingly romantic way that still manages to play by fairy tale rules to a t!!! featuring deft dramatic irony + Wordplay As Life-Saving Strategy

"a desk is a friend your heart makes" - @jellyfishline. plucked straight from the summary: "Or, sometimes recovery isn't linear and you have to go hide under a desk about it." there are, certainly, many post-canon h/c fics in which trauma reemerges and Character A has to comfort Character B. what you DON'T see every day is such a deft balance between humor and h/c. this fic knows that trauma responses can honestly be a bit ridiculous, and lets astarion work through it while having both genuine pathos AND entertaining dialog. again i say: CRAFT.

"Someone Has To" - @shelbyroundthemountain. i read this last march, closed the tab, kept thinking about it on and off for nearly a year, and then happily found it again this morning. wyll lets slip he did survival sex work a few times before he was established as the Blade. he has no idea why astarion's making such a big deal about it now. i think what stuck with me about this fic was the deft psychology of it: a Thing can happen to two different people and they can come away with vastly different reactions based on context and personality. this is ESPECIALLY true when it comes to things like sex that are so embedded in the *gestures* "we live in a society" of it all

"a sentimental jury" - domoda. ok so this is straight-up a complete, cohesive noir in under 3k words. this is constructed like original short fiction. this has astarion as a parisian femme fatale and wyll as a put-upon but ultimately honorable german interpol officer with ulterior motives (!!). i read this like i watch a film. voice and prose immaculate. i feel fortunate to exist in a world where someone thought to make this. two thumbs up

"sewn in the lining of me" - @duckbunny. hey, so, uh! wyll vivisection fic. h/c, whump, etc--it's gnarly in real creative ways, folks!!--but truly what sets it apart for me is the astarion pov: the ways his own experiences layer over everything, the...half-strategic half-instinctive dissociation he undergoes while trying to save wyll's life, the lovely quiet scene between the two of them at the end. this is a fic where you can feel the Psychology with a capital p in every line of the narration. brutal. very very pretty also.

"his vengeance need not be feared" - antimonian. wyll's ready to kill mizora, he totally is, except maybe the WAY he wants to kill her makes him a bad person?? man, let me tell you. the prose on this thing alone. packed with gorgeous character insights, deftly-drawn relationships, a mizora that manages to be deeply unsettling in very few words, and an astarion being anxiously supportive in the only ways he knows how (murder; hovering). also featuring a strong wyll&karlach friendship + bard wyll!!

honorable mention for the ravengard fans: "At dream's end" by hellbell, which is beautiful surreal prose from the pov of a tadpole-possessed ulder re: his son. not wyllstarion, just need you to know abt it

godspeed, fellow travelers

[hypokeimena]

like the thing is if someone wants to have a conversation with me about tone in image descriptions i am happy to have that conversation. i have obviously pretty strong feelings about the role of the person-interpreting/translating but i think it's fair that not everyone feels the way i do. i actually often think the faux- or sincerely-"objective" tone of image descriptions is often an incredible tool for comedy! e.g. posts like, my little nephew just gave me what he calls his "duck" [image of a lemon] image id: a lemon.

that's fucking funny! deadpan can be funny! however, sometimes other forms of description are more important. image descriptions MUST BE short,* which means you are limited in the amount of extraneous description you can include. if your description takes more than ten seconds to read out loud you're pushing it.

this can GENUINELY cause problems. the description i wrote about that stupid tswift pic was me actively choosing not to do research and source it more effectively, because to ME, part of what made the op funny was not having any idea tf was going on and that was the part of the experience i wanted to focus on in my description. it doesn't necessarily matter WHAT IS IN the photo, it matters what it is adding to the post (i think all of us now understand that for e.g. memes it's more important to describe the memes and what they're doing in the post than it is to carefully describe the type of armchair someone is sitting in while saying 'why are you booing me. i'm right'.)

so someone else who experienced the post differently - i.e. by recognizing it as from the music video - is going to describe the post differently from someone who would have to do research to source it. they're going to produce two different descriptions. your experience shapes what you understand. which is necessarily going to be subjective! and i get that it's scary to add your own experience into the description, but you ARE ALREADY DOING THAT.

which is to say that i think if someone had added a description about the ME music video that's fairly detailed that would also have been both accurate and funny, but it would have been a different joke. you know? because different people have different experiences of that image.

i do, genuinely, think there is a real issue in things like description in that i do think it is genuinely aversive to expect people to do 10 minutes of research every time they want to write an image description. i also do think that people being wrong in image descriptions is a problem, which is why i do often end up doing research or deciding not to describe certain posts if i can't be sure i know what i'm talking about. but not every post is like informing you about art historical fact or something where it really matters which specific artist produced an image, or if it is a modern reinterpretation, or various other things where you need to be sure you're conveying information that will seriously alter the meaning of a work.

image IDs should accurately describe reality. but like, sometimes people are going to make a mistake. the way you react to mistakes matters! sometimes you just edit a post to fix a typo or to correct a white guy actor you misidentified and i think different people have different ideas about what level of confidence you should be feeling to write descriptions - i've acknowledged different levels of confidence being necessary for description writing in this post! i get it! reasonable people can disagree!

however being like "well you're not wrong but what if you HAD BEEN wrong" ---- i'm going to eat you. i wasn't wrong!! and even if i had been, being wrong isn't the scariest thing in the world to me! seems like it'd suck to live like that though!

*obviously transcriptions of text will be long and transcriptions of text/art mix like comics will be even longer but i think a lot of comic transcriptions are not very good, in that they often don't effectively summarize the art component of the description.

[wilson-laineyd]

i'd never really looked at it like that but you're right. it's something to be proud of definitely, i just have a little bit of fear that all of these people think that i'm some super hero or a super human of some kind. i know it's not true but i feel like i'm just one of the most normal people anyone could ever meet. i put my britches on one pant leg at a time. i feed my dog basic dog food. y'know it's not like i'm out here living this wild awesome life. i feel like i could be considered what the kids call 'basic' like there is nothin' special about me. oh my GOD that is the best way to put it! i never want any of these kids to walk away from meetin' me & think that i don't live up to the hype. that's why i wanted to bring Bell Bottom Country to the world because that's me. that's who i am. i never feel like i have to pretend to be someone that i'm not. like, i would hate for these kids to think that i'm some superstar & come to find out that i'm just a down to earth girl. i never wanted to have to paint myself up to be someone i'm not 'cause once you do that you're stuck with it forever. in the public eye you can never be yourself. that was one thing that i was determined to make happen. that i wasn't going to be someone i wasn't just to get deals & what not. i was gonna be genuine. it's nice to know that i'm not alone in this thought though. that it does, or did happen to some of us. i feel less crazy now haha

You're doing well for yourself in a tough industry to take a shot at. Who wouldn't look up to that? I feel you, though. Just a kid from the Heights who got pretty good at tossing around a ball and having all this support and being recognized by people around the world is just nuts. Trips me out all the time. Can't say imposter syndrome is as much of a thing these days. It used to be when I started out, but you know when the work speaks for itself you start to feel like you belong. Takes time. Always think about that saying, "Never meet your idols." I keep that in mind 'cause I never want to any of these kids who look up to me to walk away feeling let down. We gotta deliver on the expectations, you know?

[wewontbesleeping]

it’s so bizarre coming across people saying shit like “NO woman would do that” about something totally innocuous. like I just came across this thread on Reddit where multiple people were saying that no woman would ever… use a bar of dove soap on her face. like??? what the hell are you talking about?