#there's basically a whole new cast though

[that-smallinjured-bowylamb]

Hi!! Just read Yuu's thing, and oh gosh their personality, it practically had me rubbing my chin and going "oh, damn 😥" at each new bullet point. Reader might ACTUALLY have better luck surviving some analogue horror rather than Yuu. Separating reader from friends and inducing bullying to have them rely on Yuu, too... And going as far as doing THAT to reader's friend right in front of them.

I could see how that would affect the reader's stay at NRC. What if they're constantly frightened the whole time that everyone will leave them?? Or afraid to make friends because of what they had to see? And that Yuu may try to turn everyone against reader again because, you know, it worked the first time. Though this time, NRC's cast is definitely atypical compared to regular schools. They have magic to defend themselves, and UM like Jade's "shock the heart" to find out truths (if u read full B7, in a way, maybe Ace? But I won't elaborate further because that's a spoiler). They also seem a lottt more stubborn and not as easily intimidated, so if they do befriend reader, that's at least something. Though, it's interesting how Yuu is also capable of making friends, so I'm not sure if they'll try befriending people with certain magic or status to forge connections for their own benefits.

- ☕

I live for spoilers bc I like to be all knowing >:3

Anyways, yes!!! This is the theme I'm going for! I'm not making this into a fic since I have LOT OF UNFINSHED FICS TO WORK ON.

It does affect the reader into staying away from them!!! The reader isn't supposed to be 'bonding' with any of them (and if they try, reader runs / avoids them) in order to not reveal anything about themselves (bc of Yuu) they are very afraid about their friends leaving them eventually and tbh that's what I was imagining to go for!! [Yes I'm mentally stable thanks 💯💯] reader is supposed to be afraid of them because of their past, they know it's Yuu's fault but can't do anything about it, especially when they have the upper hand in this situation. The cast, mostly the ones who cares and wants to befriend the reader, will be worried of their avoidant behavior. Not much is known unless they secretly try to go after reader in secret.

More under the cut!

This school has magic, so compare it to a magicless human [Yuu & reader] they are at a disadvantage in a way, since as you've stated, Jade has a UM that allows him to see others truths, thing is, is that maybe correct me if I'm wrong, it only works once on the person UNLESS they let their guard down around him(?) I'm not sure, my memory is fucking ass at this (this is why I fail at math and memory games ugh) but there IS also Jamil who, has a hypnosis UM!!! So maybe, if he commands Yuu to show what they've hidden, Yuu's deeds would be revealed.

The thing is, though...

Yuu already knows how to avoid their magic. Yuu has a strong mental resistance as long as they can adapt (like the original yuu) so the fact that Jamil and Jade had already revealed their magic to Yuu, it wouldn't do much unless they're teaming up together to catch Yuu on the act.

On the other hand though, it'll be far too easy and the actions of Yuu will be caught early on and it would be no fun, that's why I made Yuu steal your 'identity' in order to gain others trust and feelings (yes it had been mentioned that Yuu like you in a weird, diabolically, morbid way) where Yuu steal 'you' and your 'being', basically taking what makes you, well, you.

The 'charming' part of you. (Which is basically your entire existence so Yuu wanted to take that advantage <-mimicry) but the thing is; the boys are smarter than that (bc this ain't yandere TWST it's Yuu.) They know Yuu is replicating something or someone, to be exact. (Well, not ALL of main cast, some others will have to catch on later in the books idk where though.. b7?) But still, as said before, they care about Yuu and reader [<-slightly, not much since reader is quite avoidant]. So they can't really accuse Yuu of doing anything. They basically have more influence power unless reader speaks up, which will help them but will come with prices.

To answer your questions; Yuu is definitely doing this for their own benefits and Reader. Because they only want reader and nothing more (if you haven't seen it yet, did you see the, uhm, written notes? It's about the 'love letters' about the reader, it was all the way in the end, I'm not sure if anyone had seen it yet...), Yuu likes reader, in a morbid way no one can understand (and I'm pretty sure even if I say this, depending on how deep their friendship is with reader or depending on which TWST character I'm talking about, the TWST boys will feel a shiver and an uncomfortable feeling in their gut once everything about Yuu is revealed.)

And yes, Yuu is the yandere is you wanna know (but I don't wanna call them yandere so that's why I'm calling them creepy!Yuu because it's more easier that way for me to not break my own rules again 🥹🥹) so if you see 'Yuu' acting all like YOU? Yeah, they're definitely using yourself to charm them (it kinda worked bc look, no one reported them yet)

[gala-xyzz]

i love my kingdom hearts au but i'm also so scared to talk about it. it is the singly most canon-divergent thing i've ever come up with and almost all my au ideas are canon-divergent. dunno why but even tho this au is really good it just. TERRIFIES me. and it makes me scared to talk about it. the amount of times i've started and restarted writing a fic for it is insane. i could describe the entire plot to you in perfect detail but i can't write is as a story. am i ok

[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ NEW DEAL (ROOMMATE TOJI)

You were crouched in front of the fridge, staring into the abyss of expired condiments and half-empty containers when Toji came home. The sound of his boots hitting the floor was heavy and lazy— like he’d been dragging his whole body through the day. He didn’t say anything at first; he just dropped his tool belt with a tired grunt and kicked the door shut behind him.

You turned around just in time to catch the way he rubbed his neck, his hoodie clinging to his shoulders, still dusted with sawdust and sweat from a 12-hour day on site. He looked exhausted— face shadowed, hair messily tied back and eyes half-lidded with the weight of pure, bone-deep fatigue.

“You eat?” he asked without looking at you, already peeling off his shirt and tossing it over a kitchen chair.

You shook your head. “No groceries. Just sad ketchup packets and some old rice”.

He muttered a curse and leaned his hands on the marble counter, head hanging between his arms. Then after a long moment, he looked up at you.

“Alright,” he said, voice low and worn. “New deal”.

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I cover rent,” he said, standing up straight, his voice a bit more steady now, even though the bags under his eyes said he was one bad day away from crumbling. “All of it. Every month”.

Your mouth dropped open. “What? Are you serious?”

He nodded once, grabbing a can of beer from the fridge and popping it open with the edge of his calloused palm. “Dead serious. But in return, you cook and you do my laundry”.

You stared at him in pure disbelief. “So basically, you want me to be your housewife?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” he snorted, taking a long sip. “I just come home dead on my feet every damn night. My back’s shot, my knees feel like gravel and the last thing I wanna do is scrub my socks or figure out dinner. You’re home all day. You got time”.

You frowned, clearly offended. “I have classes”.

“And I’m not asking for a five-star meal,” he said, already walking toward his room, peeling off his undershirt as he went. “Just make sure there’s food when I get home. And maybe fold my shirts so I’m not digging through a mountain every morning”.

He paused in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m not saying this to be an asshole,” he added, voice lower and more gentle now. “I trust you. And I don’t… I don’t ask for help unless I need it”.

That part hit different.

You watched him disappear down the hall, the faint sound of his bedroom door creaking shut behind him. The fridge still hung open, light casting a glow on your face as you stood there, completely stunned.

Cooking and laundry in exchange for free rent. It wasn’t exactly a romantic fairy tale but with Toji but something about it felt so raw because of how genuine and needy he seemed, and it was him trusting you to take care of him in the only way he’d allow.

And hell, if it meant coming home to the gruff warmth of his voice and the quiet pride he had in every dish you made, even if he only said, “Not bad, kid”— you figured it was more than a fair trade.

———

I’d be his housewife + from now on, in all the upcoming roommate toji dabbles he’s the one paying rent!!

[sunderwight]

More cumplanewar au thoughts (stealing the ship name idea from @thesadisticsiren):

-This throuple is like, two guys and their attack dog. At a glance it would seem like SQQ and SQH are the two guys and LQG is the attack dog, but it actually depends on the situation.

-SQQ is the attack dog for winning verbal arguments, and Shang Qinghua is unleashed when the best solution would be to just ruin some clan's big picture financial prospects for the next ten generations. Liu Qingge might stab you but the other two are more likely to make you wish someone had just stabbed you.

-Yue Qingyuan has mixed feelings about this whole situation, but standing on the outside and smiling sadly at this strange adult version of Xiao Jiu while he moves on with his life without him feeds his emotional masochism, so that's mostly what he goes with.

-Qi Qingqi did not know that men could have polycules. She thought this was mostly just something women did when they smartened up and realized that having sex with each other and locking their shitty husband out at night was a better way of coping with being in a harem than competing. Live and learn.

-Luo Binghe eventually joins Cang Qiong (despite numerous efforts to get him into some other sect) by climbing Bai Zhan Peak. SQQ and SQH start coming up with contingency plans for what to do if there's some sort of "kill his own shizun" mandate in effect and Liu Qingge bites it. This is useful stuff just in general, given that Liu Qingge is still just lousy with character death flags and also has literally made it his job to run headlong into dangerous situations.

-Shen Qingqiu still manages to die the most.

-Mu Qingfang doesn't know why these two specific martial brothers of his with like zero medical training keep coming to him with new miraculous methods for healing multiple amputations and heavy blood loss, but he is NOT complaining.

-Huan Hua Palace Master likes to make insinuating remarks about Cang Qiong's "famous fraternal love" between peak lords in a way that seems perfectly polite but also implies something seedy is going on. This doesn't work out well, mostly because it flies right over Liu Qingge's head, Shang Qinghua is just nodding along and feeding every scrap of HHP intel he gets to Mobei Jun, and Shen Qingqiu's roasting ability was forged in the fires of online comment sections, so pitting him against a tacky drama villain is like releasing a feral cat onto a small island that has only evolved flightless birds with no native predators.

-It actually does take them a while to start fucking. Mainly happens because of sex pollen the first time, of course, and then Shang Qinghua has to just be like "that was fun, let's do it again" so that Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu can yell at him about it until they calm down enough to agree.

-Liu Qingge keeps trying to get Officially Married, but Shang Qinghua doesn't want to do the paperwork (worries he's secretly the third wheel and they're going to want to get rid of him at some point), and Shen Qingqiu doesn't want to firm things up until after the plot has passed (thinks he might still get murdered and doesn't want to make things 'messy' if that happens).

-There is a persistent external impression that the shrewd & scheming SQQ and SQH have basically beguiled and bewildered Liu Qingge into their beds in order to exploit his potential and use his body. Shen Qingqiu tears this porn to shreds, Liu Qingge is reluctantly into it, and Shang Qinghua is just surprised to be cast as a top even though he's the shortest.

-Mobei Jun trying to figure out how to navigate human culture just well enough to get into the polycule but only to exclusively date Shang Qinghua is the lady with the math equations meme.

[rosierin]

just a kiss (it wasn’t) | suna rintarou

synopsis; (y/n) and suna share the story of their first and only kiss. they don’t talk about it much but that doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten

warning; NSFW, mature content, explicit content‼️

part two here!

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

It was a rainy Saturday evening—which, in this household, meant one thing:

The perfect excuse for a movie night.

The pitter-patter of rain filled the living room, the sound rousing the sort of mood that made you want to burrow under a blanket and never crawl out. The scent of burnt popcorn (courtesy of Atsumu) still lingered in the air, barely masked by a candle someone had lit a few minutes earlier. On the TV, a romcom played, casting lights across a couch that had seen better days.

They were all tangled somewhere on and around it.

Suna was slouched in his armchair, one hand tucked behind his head, the other loosely holding the remote. The couch, meanwhile, was a mess of limbs. (Y/n) was wedged between the twins, blanket pulled over her legs, comfortable enough not to apologise when her thighs accidentally bumped one of theirs. It was cramped, a little too warm, but somehow still perfect in that lazy, lived-in way.

The movie was halfway through.

Some soft-hearted childhood-sweethearts plotline—filled with lots of longing glances, a slow dance in the kitchen, and a romantic first kiss on New Year’s Eve under fairy lights.

It was sweet and frankly a little bit sappy. But to (y/n), nostalgic in a way that made the room feel warmer than it was.

‘Course Atsumu had to go and ruin it.

“Okay but like,” he gestured towards the screen, “it’d be so weird kissin’ someone you’ve known since you were, like, six. Right? Isn’t that basically incest?”

(Y/n) sighed and pressed her eyes shut. “That’s… not how incest works.”

“No, but you get what I mean,” Atsumu rambled. (Y/n) didn’t grace him with a response. “You’ve watched ‘em eat glue and pick their nose yer whole life. How d’you go from that to makin’ out?”

Osamu made a thoughtful noise. “I mean, I get it. It’s weird if they feel like family.”

“Exactly!” Atsumu said. “Just feels wrong.”

Suna, who had diligently said nothing for the last fifteen minutes, shifted in his chair.

(Y/n) glanced at him, saw the barely perceptible twitch of his mouth, and cleared her throat.

And for whatever reason—maybe it was the sensual kissing scene playing on screen, maybe it was the quiet thrum of mischief in the air—she spoke without thinking.

“I’ve kissed Rin before.”

For a moment, nobody spoke. The rain drummed steadily against the windows.

She could practically hear the gears turning in the twins’ heads, the words ricocheting around their skulls before slotting into place.

Atsumu’s frown was pure instinct. “…Huh?"

Osamu turned his head, eyes widening a fraction. “You what? Seriously?”

Suna gave a lazy shrug. Then, with a quiet hum—like it wasn’t worth making a fuss over—he responded, “Yeah.”

“Wait. Hold on.” Osamu pointed between them, a grin tugging at his lips. “You two. Kissed. Like—on the mouth?”

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. “Is there another way?”

Atsumu’s eyebrows pulled together, not quite a glare, but close. “Wait—when?” His tone sounded as though he didn't know whether to be be confused, angry, or both.

She hesitated.

That was the thing. It had been years ago. Just once. A long, blurry night tucked behind them like a folded photograph they never took back out. But even now, her face grew warm.

“It was… a while ago. We were… eighteen, I think. Funnily enough it was on New Year's too." She pointed to the movie.

Atsumu turned toward her fully, one leg folded beneath him, the other dangling off the couch. His brows were drawn tight, mouth parted. “And yer just tellin’ us now?!”

(Y/n) offered a weak shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

Oh, it was.

It definitely was.

But she wasn’t about to give the twins the full retelling.

The whole time, her attention was drawn to Suna—trying to get a read on him, even though he wasn’t giving her much to work with. Still, she had a feeling he was more invested than he let on.

“Was it, like... a dare?” Osamu asked.

Suna shook his head. “Nah.”

“So... a practice thing?”

He popped a kernel into his mouth. Smirked just a little. “Ask, (y/n).”

Bastard.

At once, both twins turned to look at her.

Atsumu was the image of impatience. Leaning in, eyes narrowed like he was half expecting her to admit she was joking.

Meanwhile Osamu, calmer but no less curious, raised one brow in silent question.

She shrank back against the couch cushions, suddenly hyper-aware of the space—or lack thereof—between them.

Two sets of expectant eyes on her.

Two completely different expressions.

One identical intensity.

She swallowed.

She could still remember it—the quiet pop of fireworks outside Suna’s window. The way his eyes looked that night, different somehow. Older.

The memory made her pause, words caught somewhere between embarrassment and pride.

She glanced at Suna and their eyes met.

He didn’t say anything outright, but his shoulder lifted slightly. A silent go on. And if she hadn’t known him for so long, she might’ve missed the faint flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. The quiet, smug little challenge that said:

Go on. Tell them. Let’s see what version you pick.

She cleared her throat and chose her words carefully, eyes darting between Atsumu and Osamu.

“So… we were alone. Remember? We’d gone to his parents' house over the holidays. You guys had gone back to Hyōgo to spend Christmas with your family.”

The twins nodded. Let her continue.

“Anyway, at first we were just talking...” Her fingers toyed with a loose thread in the blanket over her lap.

“Then he looked at me,” she went on, gaze drifting towards Suna. She paused, unsure how much he was willing to let her to share—if he wanted her to tell the rest.

He didn’t look her way. Just let the silence stretch, eyes fixed on the credits like none of this concerned him.

Right. Point taken.

“And he just… I don’t know—you know how guys have that specific look when you wanna kiss someone?”

Osamu snorted. Atsumu shook his head. "No?"

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. "Okay, well—you do. Anyway. He gave me that look and..."

“And?” Atsumu clicked his tongue. “Jesus woman, how long ya gonna keep edgin’ us for?”

Her fingers curled into the couch cushion as she shot him a weak glare. “Well… after that, he kissed me. So… I kissed him back.”

Her tone was even, but a flicker of a smile tugged at her lips—because no matter how nonchalant she tried to sound, the memory still lit something warm in her chest.

Osamu let out a low whistle.

Atsumu gawked—shocked, maybe a little relieved. “That’s it?”

She risked a glance at Suna.

It was faint, but she could tell he was biting back a grin. That quiet glint was there again. Something so typically Suna—aloof, amused, and just a little bit smug. Like he was remembering it too.

“She’s leaving out the good part."

(Y/n)’s heart jumped. “Rin—”

Suna either missed the flicker of panic on her face, or ignored it. He just sat up with a slow stretch, sweatshirt riding up to reveal a sliver of skin. A sound slipped from him—half sigh, half yawn.

“It wasn’t just a kiss,” he stated—flat, but a little too suggestive. Probably on purpose.

Osamu’s eyebrows shot up, eyes locked on Suna now. “You guys…?”

“No,” Suna said before anyone could finish the thought. “We didn't get that far."

That earned him a full double take from both twins.

“Go on," Atsumu demanded.

(Y/n) was at a loss for words. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the twins. It’s not like they’d go around repeating the story—why would they? But even so. Nobody knew about her past… lore with Suna. Not a soul.

And while she didn’t mind mentioning the kiss, the rest—well. The rest was, for lack of a better term, not safe for work.

Not safe for her dignity, either.

That night had been a lot of things.

Spontaneous, yes. Heated. But also more complicated than she'd ever admit out loud.

She’d known the twins for years—ever since they were teenagers. And yet, she’d never told them about her crush on her best friend. Never told them about one of the most pivotal nights of her love life.

And perhaps tonight wasn't the night for that.

Instead, she shook her head, cheeks burning as the memories began rushing in. “I dunno what to say! We were just… stupid and curious and just being your typical horny teenagers, that’s all.”

That earned a quiet snort from Osamu, who looked more amused than surprised at this new piece of backstory.

Atsumu, on the other hand, didn’t laugh. He just stared, like he was trying to figure out what to say but didn’t quite know how to frame it. His lips parted, then pressed shut again.

As for Suna... He simply kept quiet. Knowing him, he was probably just as torn about sharing the details. If anyone valued their privacy, it was Suna.

And (y/n)—despite herself—felt her gaze drop to her hands in her lap, fingers twisting in the sleeves of her hoodie Her skin prickled—not quite from embarrassment, but from the heat of the memory... and the leftover tension hanging in the air.

Mercifully, neither twin pressed any further. Even Atsumu, surprisingly.

(Y/n) exhaled a little breath as Osamu pulled his brother and Suna into a brainstorm about which movie to watch next.

Hopefully not another romance.

She wasn't sure if he'd done it out of sympathy, or if it just happened to be good timing. Either way, she was grateful for the distraction.

They never brought it up again.

But that didn’t mean her mind didn't.

Every now and then, she’d glance over at Suna. He looked relaxed—detached, even—but she couldn’t help but wonder if his mind was buzzing too. If his hands had gotten clammy. If his heart had even skipped a beat.

She was too caught up in her thoughts to notice him pull out his phone.

Her phone buzzed seconds later.

Blinking herself out of the haze, she looked down at her screen and gawked.

From: Rin tell your brain to be quiet can hear it from here

She ignored his message.

And glared at him instead.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It was right after graduation. In winter, on New Year’s Eve.

A night with no romance, no candles, no feelings—just the quiet kind of chaos that only happens when trust, timing, and tension mix in the worst possible way.

They’d known each other since they were nine.

Back then, it was simple. He was the quiet kid who liked video games and hated group work. She was the chatty one who always finished her lunch first and dragged him out of the house. They just… clicked. Simple as that. A friendship built on years of inside jokes, late-night calls, and knowing each other like the backs of their hand.

It wasn’t until middle school that her feelings began to change.

Not overnight. Far from it. But somewhere between study calls and the first time he pulled off his hoodie in front of her, something settled in her chest. It crept up on her like a slow burn. A feeling you don’t notice until it’s already been there a while and planted its roots.

She started caring more. Laughing harder at his jokes. Noticing when his replies came slower, when his voice sounded a bit more tired than usual. Being around him just felt... better than being around anyone else. There was comfort. Trust. And the type of closeness that made her heart ache for all the right reasons.

Love, probably. But the shy, unspoken kind. The kind you don’t confess because you're afraid it might ruin everything.

And then, of course, they both had a glow-up—that was just the truth. He got taller. His voice dropped. His jaw sharpened. And she noticed.

The same way he noticed her legs that summer she started wearing shorts more often. The same way his eyes lingered a little too long when she bent over to grab something. The way his teasing lost a bit of its brotherly edge and got a bit more... biting.

She wasn’t stupid. He found her attractive. She knew that.

But she also knew that’s where it stopped. It was purely surface-level. Because Suna wasn’t the type to fall easily. And if he ever saw her as anything more, it never lasted long enough to mean something.

Not like hers had.

She’d been in love with him for years. Secretly. Hopelessly. Love you don’t act on because it’s easier to carry in silence than risk putting it down and never getting it back.

So no—

They weren’t a thing. They weren’t anything.

Except... aware.

Almost as if something sat between them, constantly humming just beneath the surface. A quiet almost that only one of them seemed to feel.

Until that particular New Year’s night, when the hum turned into something louder.

His house was quiet. His parents and little sister were off celebrating with friends, and he’d bailed last minute with the most Suna excuse ever:

“Too many people. Too much noise. Don’t feel like pretending to care about countdowns.”

(Y/n) had agreed without thinking. Like always. By now, saying yes to him felt like second nature, so when he suggested she stay the night, it didn’t even feel like a choice.

Now they were in his room—lights off, movie playing in the background, the faint sound of fireworks crackling somewhere in the distance. Her legs were curled up on his bed, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. Suna sat beside her, phone face-down, arm draped loosely across the back of the mattress.

They weren’t saying much. Just watching. Existing.

Until the scene changed.

And—what the fuck?

Where the hell did this come from?

Out of nowhere, the couple on screen were now tangled up on a couch—shirts half-off, lips clashing. Moans slipped out between kisses, fingers clawing at fabric like they couldn’t get close enough.

The scene wasn't explicit by any means, but showed enough to make (y/n) cringe. Flushed skin. Bare thighs. The unmistakable rhythm of two people getting lost in each other.

Her spine straightened on instinct.

She cleared her throat and looked away, shifting in her seat under the guise of getting comfortable.

She could feel Suna's eyes on her.

“Do scenes like this make you uncomfortable?” he asked, voice laced with amusement.

She stiffened. “No. I mean—maybe a bit.”

He hummed, glancing sideways. Her eyes flicked between the couple on screen and Suna, trying very hard not to combust at the explicit sounds that now filled his moderate sized bedroom.

“…Do they not make you uncomfortable?” she countered.

He shrugged, gaze slipping back to the TV with that usual calm. “Nah. Not really.”

Typical.

She narrowed her eyes. "What does make you uncomfortable, then?"

His response came far too fast. “Kita.”

She fought back a grin. “Seriously?”

“Correct." He gave a curt nod. “Kita Shinsuke freaks me out.”

Out of all the things. His stoic volleyball captain from high school is what got him?

She snorted, shaking her head a little. “How come? I think he’s nice!”

Suna’s face stayed neutral, but she could've sworn she saw him shudder.

“Try having him breathe down your neck for a day,” he mumbled. “That guy’s terrifying.”

“Kita’s not scary,” she argued. “He only picked on you ’cause he knew you were a major slacker.”

His lip twitched. “Only one who got scouted to Inarizaki though.”

(Y/n) nodded, conceding with a half-smile. “That you were.”

Thankfully, by the time she turned her attention back to the TV, the sex scene had ended.

Thank God.

Unfortunately, it was only then that she noticed how close they were sitting. She blamed the way she’d shifted earlier, trying to act normal. That was on her. And maybe it was the scene that had just played out on screen, but now the space between them felt… tight.

Suddenly, the movie wasn’t the only thing messing with her focus.

She looked over at him once. Then again.

Their thighs brushed every now and then. Not fully touching, but enough for the heat of him to bleed into her side. Every shift he made—the way his hoodie rustled, the subtle rise and fall of his breathing—felt loud in her ears.

She tried to focus on the movie. Really, she did.

But her eyes kept drifting.

Just for a second. Then another.

He looked good. Effortless like always with his hoodie half-pulled over his messy hair, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, eyes half-lidded like he could fall asleep any second.

But he wore his tired well. Even the faint shadows beneath his eyes didn’t make him look worn—they made him look soft. Still strangely handsome.

Her gaze slipped to his jaw. Then the sliver of collarbone visible beneath his hoodie, the way the fabric stretched across his broad shoulders.

Then lower—to where his hands rested in his lap, fingers loose and half-curled, adorned with a silver ring on each pointer finger. She didn’t remember when he started wearing them.

Her throat tightened slightly. They suited him. She’d always thought his hands were pretty. Usually, it was just a fleeting thought. A simple observation.

But tonight—tonight, she found herself wondering what those hands could do. What they’d feel like against her skin.

Her cheeks flushed. She looked away. Cleared her throat.

Get a grip, (y/n).

It wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. She was over him. Had been, for a while now. This was the movie's fault. Or maybe some leftover curiosity—that’s all.

“Hm?”

Suna's voice drifted over, pulling her from her daze.

She straightened a bit too fast, hating how guilty she sounded when she replied, “What?”

There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth when he glanced over. “Were you checking me out?”

Her response was like a bad reflex. “No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I was just—” Her eyes dropped to his lap, and she could've cursed at the mindless action.

Why'd I do that?

He's probably gonna think I was looking at—

She caught the way his brows lifted as she looked back up, his smirk broadening into something almost boyish.

Of course.

"Your hands,” she clarified, louder than intended.

“My hands?” He echoed, almost innocently. But something in his voice sounded suspiciously pleased.

She could’ve brushed it off. Could’ve left it at that. But her mouth had already run ahead of her.

"Mhmm. I was just thinking how nice they are."

If her words weren't enough to make her cringe, then Suna's reaction was. He didn't bother hiding his amusement this time, not as he slowly lifted a hand in front of him and flexed his fingers a few times.

She hated how her gaze lingered on the movement, on the glint of silver on his fingers, the subtle shift of muscle beneath skin, pronounced with each curl.

Lazy, controlled—like he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Thanks," he drawled.

She swallowed.

God.

Her mind went somewhere it absolutely should not have gone.

Her thighs squeezed together under the blanket.

He dropped his hands back into his lap without a word and looked at her.

She daren't meet his gaze.

She shouldn’t be having these thoughts. Not about him. Not now. They’d sat like this before—shoulder to shoulder, legs touching, even sharing a bed more times she can count. But it had never felt like this. Never made her pulse quicken or her mind wander the way it was tonight.

So why now?

Maybe it was the quiet. The late hour. Maybe even the stupid movie.

Or maybe it was the fact that it was just the two of them—alone in his room with nowhere to be, nothing to do, and too much unsaid sitting between them.

Because something about being here with him like this always brought old feelings to the surface.

“Do you think we’ll be different this year?”

The words slipped out before she could stop them—quiet, barely a whisper.

Suna’s eyes flicked to her face. “You mean like… emotionally evolved?”

She tried not to fidget too much and nodded once, lips pressed together, already regretting her question.

But Suna didn't make her feel guilty. Didn't tease. Didn't overreact. Just held her gaze and asked, “Did you want it to be different?”

The question made her stomach twist, eyes drifting to the way her hands fiddled with the sleeve of her hoodie. She could feel it, that pulse of awareness between them. The one that made the hairs on her arms prick up. The one she used to feel and thought she’d finally outgrown—until now.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Probably not.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. But it certainly wasn't the kind she was used to.

She swallowed the lump in her throat as Suna turned to her fully. The slight shift in position was negligible, probably nothing but a few centimetres. But she felt it enough to make her heart stutter.

It took her a great amount of effort not to shrink beneath his gaze.

Suna and his damn eye contact.

"Something's on your mind."

It wasn't a question. More like an observation that landed straight in her gut.

Her breathing shallowed. "How can you tell...?"

“You’re acting weird tonight,” he murmured. Not an insult, but something almost like curiosity.

“So are you,” she shot back, voice mirroring his hushed tone.

A ghost of a smirk. “Yeah?”

“You’re sitting closer than usual.”

“Am I?”

“You’re looking at me different.”

Indeed. He didn’t deny it.

His eyes were half-lidded. Hazy. Fixed on her like he was seeing something he hadn’t let himself look at before.

She recognized that look.

She’d seen it in other guys before—guys at parties, in passing glances, in moments that felt fleeting and charged.

But never from him. Not Suna.

And now that it was him—looking at her like that—her stomach twisted with something half-forgotten. Old and perhaps unfinished.

Something she thought had burned out long ago.

Her voice came out smaller than she intended, tight in her throat. "...What’re you doing?"

He didn’t answer right away, but the dip in atmosphere was palpable.

“Tell me to stop.”

Her heart lurched—at the words, at the tone. Silken, but brazen. Familiar, but suddenly foreign.

The feeling in her chest felt like reopening a book she’d shelved a long time ago.

A chapter she never thought she’d revisit.

She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just sat there, heart hammering as he leaned in—close enough for her to catch the scent of his cologne. For her eyes to flick to his mouth—once, then back up.

"...What?"

Usually she'd deflect. Change the subject. Look away. But she couldn't this time. Or rather... she wouldn't.

“I said,” he murmured, gaze dropping to her lips, “tell me to stop.”

Her mouth parted, but no words came out.

Not as he tilted his head, lips brushing hers in the faintest whisper of contact.

Not when his nose bumped hers and her breath hitched.

She barely had time to register what was happening.

Next thing she knew—

He was kissing her.

No rush. No pressure. Just the feeling of his mouth on hers, tentative and warm, slow enough to give her time to pull away, soft enough to make her brain fog.

And in her head, all the years came rushing in.

The laughter. The teasing. How she used to look for him in every room like it was second nature. The late-night calls. The company that had always felt like safety.

She thought she was past this. She really did.

But now, with Suna kissing her like that—like she was something precious and just barely his—she wasn’t so sure.

His mouth moved against hers with a kind of lazy confidence, lips parting just enough to make her dizzy. Her body tensed beneath the softness, thighs pressing together, fingers twitching where they rested in her lap, aching to reach for something. Him.

And just when she thought she might actually lose her balance, he pulled away. Not far. Just enough to look at her.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Just stared. Eyes locked on hers like he was watching her process the moment in real time—studying every twitch, every breath. Waiting to see if she’d move first.

But (y/n) was in a daze, her lips still parted. Eyes bleary and blinking as if she was seeing a different reality entirely.

She had kissed Suna.

Suna.

Her best friend Suna.

The one she had pining over for years.

And better yet—he had made the first move.

"Earth to (y/n)..."

His voice reeled her back in. Soft and teasing.

"I..."

Suna’s brows lifted just slightly as she searched for words.

He didn't press. Didn't joke. But there was something playful in his gaze, and maybe just a little bit restrained. Like he was holding back on purpose. Not just out of respect, but to test her. To see what she’d do next.

A quiet dare.

Her nerves flared. She tried to fight it—tried to keep still. Tried to fight the urge to do something truly and utterly reckless. But failed.

Because for a moment, her nerves didn’t matter.

The second-guessing, the what-ifs—gone.

Fuck it.

She reached for him, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie—and crashed her lips onto his.

Harder this time. No hesitation.

He groaned low in his throat—surprised for half a second before melting into it, as if that was all the permission he needed.

His hand came up fast, fingers sliding along her cheek, then down to the hinge of her jaw, guiding her into him with an impatience that felt so unlike him.

(Y/n)'s body lit up at the contact—something involuntary slipping past her lips, a soft, needy sound she didn’t mean to make.

Suna was on her in an instant, tongue slipping past her lips without hesitation—slow, coaxing, claiming, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment to break her open.

A shiver rolled down her spine.

She fisted the front of his hoodie, tugging him closer, anchoring herself to him. The kiss felt good. Intoxicatingly good—like finally getting something you stopped wishing for.

She wasn’t sure what it meant. But right now, she didn’t want it to stop.

His hand moved almost carefully, brushing her jaw, then dropping down to her thigh. Warm. Grounding. Asking without asking.

Her body responded before her mind could make sense of it all.

Buzzing. Yearning. A little afraid.

She broke the kiss for half a second, lips brushing his as she whispered, “Rin”—barely more than a plea.

“Still with me?” he asked smoothly.

She nodded.

He leaned in again. This time his mouth found her neck.

Her breath caught.

Then his hand slipped under the hem of her hoodie, fingers dragging along her waist, slow and tailored to make her shiver.

She let out a shaky breath. “This is insane.”

“Yeah,” he rasped. Then, with a tinge of humour, “Don't worry, I locked the door.”

She almost laughed, but then his hand slipped higher beneath her shirt, and all she could do was gasp.

His fingers traced her ribs. His mouth brushed the spot just beneath her ear, where her pulse fluttered.

She was trembling, and yet he didn't stop.

But he did pause. Looked up at her again. “Still okay?”

She nodded.

She didn’t know what started it—maybe the silence. Maybe the look in his eyes when he was about to kiss her. Maybe the way she didn’t stop him when he leaned in.

Whatever the reason, she didn't have it in her to pull away. And clearly, neither did he.

Not when his mouth claimed hers again—slow, heated, open.

Not when his hand slid up the back of her hoodie and skimmed her bare spine as though he’d been holding himself back.

Not when he pulled her onto his lap, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs, bodies flushed, hearts thudding in sync.

The kiss deepened. Got messy. Hot. A mixture of pants and breathy sighs.

They barely parted for air before their mouths collided again, each kiss more desperate than the next, breaking only when their lungs forced them to.

Every kiss said, Don’t stop. Every inhale said, More.

Her hands slid into his hair, threading through the soft strands at his nape—pulling, guiding. He groaned softly into her mouth as his tongue brushed hers, slow and filthy. And when she let out a soft, helpless sound against his mouth, he gripped her tighter.

She felt it then—him—hard beneath her, pressing up where she was aching, and her body reacted in the most hopelessly honest way.

She rocked against him once.

He sucked in a breath.

The reaction must've snapped something in him, because in a blink, he was kissing down the column of her throat—eager hands roaming her flushed curves. His mouth working its way along her skin, teasing, but never quite giving her what she wanted.

He pulled her hoodie up in one fluid motion, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank it over her head. Her top followed, peeled away with the same quiet urgency, until she was left in nothing but her bra.

His gaze dipped once and everything soft about him disappeared.

She barely noticed the cold.

She noticed his mouth.

On her collarbones. On her chest. Open, warm, teeth dragging lightly just to make her gasp. She tilted her head back, lips parting around a little sigh, hips unconsciously rolling into his lap again and again like her body was trying to chase something it didn’t fully understand.

His hands found her hips, head hitting the headboard with a quiet thud.

Suna made a noise, low and hoarse—like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. His jaw went slightly slack. His hands tightened.

“Do that again.”

The authority in his voice was mind-numbing. She could’ve sworn goosebumps rose along her arms at the command alone.

Her cheeks flushed, heat prickling across her skin. But her hips moved again, experimentally and obediently. The drag of her clothed core against him made them both stutter a breath.

Something curled in her chest. Not quite pride. Not quite shock. Just a quiet thrill—sparked by the way he looked at her, like she’d just undone something in him.

His eyes were half-lidded, dark and heavy. Every shift of her hips made his lips part a little more. His breathing became ragged, jaw tightening when her movements grew bolder. His fingers dug into the dip of her waist like he was trying to keep her steady, or to keep his own hips from bucking up.

She ground down again—this time with more pressure.

His head fell back. “God, (y/n)—”

She kept going.

Grinding in slow, shallow rolls. The heat between her legs was blinding, the friction building in waves. She could feel the outline of him beneath her, hard and twitching through thin layers of clothes. His hoodie had ridden up his abdomen, her thighs trembling against his joggers.

Yet, Suna—despite the state he was in—was somehow still completely focused on her, like he physically needed to watch her fall apart in his lap.

His hands slid up under her bare stomach, raking over her waist, ribs, then cupping her clothed breasts. His thumbs brushed over her nipples and she gasped, hips jerking at the sudden contact.

“You like this,” he muttered darkly, “You’re getting off on the thought of riding me."

She bit her lip, but couldn't bring herself to deny it.

For a moment, she wondered what that non-verbal confession had done to him. If she’d imagined the glint in his eye. The way his muscles tensed beneath her.

She got her answer soon enough.

With one rough, fluid shift, he flipped them—her back hitting the mattress with a soft thump. Suna hovered over her, one knee pressing between her thighs, caging her in.

She looked up at him with wide, glazed eyes as he bent low, hooked a finger under her shorts, and gave them a slight tug.

“Next time we do that,” he murmured, “I’m taking these off.”

She didn’t answer—just whined as heat coiled tight in her abdomen.

His hand slid between them.

Inside her shorts.

Then inside her underwear.

Her whole body seized up.

His fingers found her—hot, slick, already aching—and he hissed like the feel of her actually hurt him.

“Shit,” he muttered, jaw flexing as his eyes dropped. “Already?”

He looked up again, lips curling slow. Confident and just a little bit smug. “I barely even touched you.”

Disbelief flickered across her flushed face, her eyebrows pinching above her lidded eyes. “You’re joking, right?” she whispered, a little breathless.

Suna just smirked.

His fingers moved again—confident, unfairly skilled, trailing through her slowly without slipping inside. Testing. Mapping her with long, maddening strokes.

She could feel the way her body clenched around nothing, the unmistakable warmth pooling between her thighs. Every nerve ending lit up, impossible to hide.

Her face burned.

He didn’t rush.

It was almost cruel, how calm he was. He didn’t need to ask what felt good. He could read it in her breath, every soft gasp that slipped from her lips, every poorly concealed moan as he deliberately avoided the places that would’ve undone her too quickly.

She pressed her forehead to his shoulder, his name slipping past her lips in a quiet whimper.

He worked her open with soft, torturous rhythm. One finger, then two. The stretch wasn’t new, but it still made her gasp—tight, full, a pulse-deep pressure that had her legs falling open wider, heels digging into the sheets.

His fingers curled deep, knuckles pressing just right against that tender spot inside her, and then he started moving—slow, sinful, obscenely precise—each thrust dragging just enough to make her clench around him, like her body couldn’t bear the emptiness he kept leaving behind.

Her head fell back. A broken sound slipped past her lips.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Don't stop—”

She didn’t care how her voice sounded—needier and more desperate than she’d ever heard, her fingers clutching at Suna’s arm. Her best friend's arm.

Her hips pressed into him, seeking that pressure, riding the curl of his fingers like her body couldn’t help it. Her movements weren’t shy or composed anymore. She was writhing, desperate for more—chasing every thrust of his hand with a helpless pace.

Suna watched her like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

His mouth was slightly open. Eyes cloudy, fixed to the point where their bodies met.

“Look at you," he breathed.

She barely heard his voice.

She just kept moving, breath hitching every time his thumb caught the right spot. The pressure inside her was building too fast, overwhelming, but she didn't stop. Couldn't.

“Usually so sweet,” he crooned. “So polite. So proper.”

His smirk was lazy, laced with awe. “And now you’re fucking yourself on my fingers."

A shaky, flustered sound escaped her throat. “Rin—please—”

“Didn’t know you could be this filthy,” he teased, lips brushing her temple. “You were holding out on me.”

She whined, hips stuttering for a second—mostly from pleasure, partly from shame.

“Bet you touch yourself thinking about this,” he muttered. “About me doing this to you. Making a mess of you."

She bit her lip, eyes squeezing shut. Her body was moving on instinct now—hips rolling into his hand like she didn’t care how it looked, how desperate it felt. And maybe she should’ve cared. Maybe she should’ve been mortified by how easily she came apart for him. But right now, with his fingers buried inside her, and that voice in her ear—

She couldn’t bring herself to stop.

“Oh, fuck, you do,” he groaned. “That’s why you’re squeezing me like that.”

She was close. So close. Her body burned, curling toward his hand, her movements frantic now, messy—rocking hard against him like she couldn’t hold out any longer.

Her stomach tensed. Her entire body locked up.

“I’m—Rin—”

“I know,” he murmured. “That's it—just like that."

One more stroke. One more definitive grind of his palm against her and the tension inside her belly snapped.

Her whole body arched into him. Her hands clutched his shoulders, lips parting in a silent cry as she came on his fingers—thighs trembling, chest heaving, whimpers spilling out between broken sobs of his name.

Suna didn't ease up yet, working her through it, his fingers slowing just enough to guide her through the last wave of it.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he muttered, watching as she fell apart. “Good fucking girl."

She twitched, chest rising and falling in shallow gasps as he finally relented. He eased his fingers out, gliding them slowly through the mess between her thighs.

(Y/n) was limp against the sheets—dazed, flushed, and thoroughly exhausted.

And yet, amid the wreckage of her orgasm, one stupid thought surfaced like a stray balloon floating into the mess of her mind.

Has Rin always had such a potty mouth?

Something must’ve shown on her face—maybe the pinch of her brows, the slight narrowing of her eyes, or the way her lips parted in quiet confusion—because Suna glanced down at her with a bemused expression.

“You okay?”

He had the audacity to look as casual as ever, hovering over her with one arm braced beside her head. She tried not to shudder as his other hand slowly traced the length of her bare thigh, and instead met his gaze with an almost sceptical stare.

“…Since when are you so chatty?”

He stared. And then, to her delight—he actually laughed.

It wasn’t his usual dry, sarcastic snort either. No—this was one of his rare laughs. Breathy, warm and genuine. The sound made her chest feel funny. The sight even more so: the slight crinkle of his nose, the way his sharp eyes softened like the moment meant something.

“That’s what’s on your mind right now?” he asked, half laughing as he said it.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes but her cheeks flushed anyway, one hand coming up to brush her hair back from her face.

“Well—yeah,” she huffed. “It was just—you know, a lot.”

His smirk lingered, followed with a slight tilt of his chin, brows raised in quiet expectation. If he was waiting for her to elaborate on that statement, he was sorely mistaken.

She groaned and covered her face with her arm. “Don’t make me say it," she grumbled. "You clearly had a lot to say. You never talk that much, even during volleyball.”

He chuckled, quiet but no less smug. “Guess we’re both full of surprises tonight.”

That line landed like a spark on open flame.

She dropped her arm just in time to catch the pointed look he gave her. Like he hadn’t forgotten the way she’d been squirming under him moments ago, how she’d clutched at the sheets and rolled her hips into his hand like a woman possessed.

Her face burned as she averted her gaze.

“Don't,” she warned weakly.

“C'mon, I thought we were past the shy part.”

She kicked weakly at his thigh, but her heart was thudding all over again. That look in his eyes—it wasn’t gone. If anything, it had simmered. Softer, but no less heated. Like he was watching her come back down just to see if he could wind her up again.

And then he just… looked at her.

Not in the lustful, primal way from earlier. This was quieter. His gaze flicked over her face in that typical, unreadable Suna fashion.

She shifted beneath it, suddenly aware of her appearance—her smudged makeup, her flushed skin, the way her hair was probably a mess against the pillow. Something about the way he stared made her feel more exposed than before.

She wondered what was going on in that indecipherable mind of his. What he was seeing. The flaws. The cracks. All the little imperfections she’d spent years picking at in the mirror.

Then his hand lifted, thumb brushing her cheekbone with a tenderness that sent butterflies loose in her stomach.

“Pretty girl,” he murmured.

That was it. Just two words. And yet they hit her square in the chest. Her breath caught, the corners of her eyes prickling with the irrational urge to cry.

His gaze lingered on her, searching or admiring.

“You look surprised,” he mused softly.

She blinked at him, stunned. For a second, it felt like they were fifteen again—a time when her words jumbled and her mind raced. A time when everything felt awkward, flustered, and a little too much like love.

“You’ve never called me that before,” she whispered.

His thumb kept moving in slow, reverent strokes across her cheek. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t thought it,” he said. “You’ve always been beautiful."

Something swelled in her chest, something old and warm. And when he traced his hand lower to run his thumb over her bottom lip—slowly, like he wanted to memorize it, brand it into memory—her heart cracked a little.

Still, her mouth parted for him.

And he stared, stared at the way she wrapped her lips around the pad of his thumb, at what she was allowing him to do. She caught the subtle clench of his jaw, the flicker in his eyes—the exact moment his restraint gave out.

His kiss wasn't soft.

His body pressed flush to hers, and she could feel him now, fully. Hard. Hot. Nestled right where she was still sensitive.

His hips ground against her, slow and firm, swallowing the tiny gasp she let out. She arched up, and he groaned low. His breath was hot against her ear when he spoke.

“You gonna take me for real this time?”

He shifted again, one hand gripping her thigh, spreading her legs just enough. He slotted between them, the thick heat of him pressing right against her core, only the thin layers of her shorts and his sweats between them.

He rocked once. Harder.

A moan slipped past her lips, more drawn-out than the rest.

“Yeah?” he crooned, almost breathless. His hips rolled again, the length of him dragging slow and heavy right against her clothed core. She felt how hard he was. How ready. How badly he wanted in. "You want it? Just say the word."

“Okay,” she whispered. Her hands were already in his hair. Her hips lifted.

He reached down, hooking his fingers into her shorts and underwear in one motion. She lifted her hips without needing to be asked, then raised her legs so he could pull them all the way off.

Then she felt him.

Skin to skin.

Hot, flushed, heavy against her entrance.

He didn’t push in—yet. Just lined himself up. Let her feel it. Bare and hot and right there, rubbing slowly against her—back and forth, teasing, testing her breath.

The pressure. The stretch. The way it would be.

And it hit her.

Each inhale came shakier than the last. Her body tensed, but not like it had before.

She wanted to want it. God, she really did.

But something cracked inside her chest. Like a wave of uncertainty slamming into a brick wall.

Her mind felt loud all of a sudden.

This wasn’t just a hook-up. Not with him. It couldn’t be.

Not after everything.

Not when her feelings had just barely begun to quiet down.

Not when she still didn’t know what this meant. Or what it didn’t.

Her body buzzed, but her heart tripped over itself. And it was like her mind finally caught up to what was happening.

This is Suna.

Her best friend.

The boy she’d loved.

The boy she was supposed to be over.

And she wasn’t ready for what would come after this.

The weight. The shift. The maybe.

Her breath hitched. Her fingers stilled in his hair.

He noticed instantly.

He didn’t push in. Just stayed right there, wary, his breath stalling as he searched her face.

“(Y/n)?” he asked, voice softer now. Cautious.

He hovered. Silent. His fingers flexed where they were gripping her thigh, like he was holding himself back from giving in completely.

She could feel him twitch against her. Feel how close they were to crossing that line.

She bit her lip, and the world narrowed to nothing but heat and heartbeat.

She couldn’t do this. Not like this.

“I…”

She stared up at him—at the flushed cheeks, the blown pupils, the lips that had been all over her skin. At her best friend. She felt the pressure of him, still right there. Felt the heat in her cheeks, the racing of her heart, the way her thighs clenched tight without meaning to.

“I can’t,” she rasped, throat tight.

He nodded. Instantly. Pulled his hips back. “Okay.”

“I want to, but—I just…”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, face burning.

“Don’t be.”

“I thought I could but—”

“Hey.” His voice was soft now. Calming. “It's okay. I get it.”

She looked at him. Really looked.

And what hit her hardest wasn’t disappointment or frustration—it was the absence of it. He wasn’t angry. Didn't look bitter or impatient. He just remained still, like he was giving her space to breathe, letting the moment settle without putting more weight on it.

Maybe that’s what made the guilt feel worse.

Her skin still tingled from the way he touched her. Her body was still wound tight from the high he gave her, and he hadn’t gotten anything in return. He’d given her so much—his hands, his patience, his restraint—and she’d unraveled completely under him, only to stop short. She felt raw. Vulnerable. Embarrassed. And above all, selfish.

He kissed her forehead, slow and lingering, and pulled the covers over her exposed body.

The act was so gentle it nearly broke her.

“Thanks for stopping,” she murmured, barely a whisper.

“Hey,” he started. But his voice, although mostly gentle, was laced with something serious. “Don’t ever thank anyone for that. Promise?"

Her throat tightened. She forced a nod.

He laid back beside her, one arm slipping beneath her shoulders, tugging her gently into the space beside him. No questions. No pressure. Just his steady presence.

She didn’t know what she expected—to cry, maybe. Or for him to roll over and distance himself. But instead, he did the opposite. He held her in silence like nothing had changed. Like she hadn’t just flipped the entire dynamic between them on its head.

She curled into him, tucking her face into the crook of his neck, too ashamed to look him in the eye. His scent was still on her skin. Her pulse was still racing, her body still warm—and yet her chest felt hollow.

His hand rested on her back, moving slowly in comforting strokes that made her feel fragile. Not in a bad way. Just… a bit vulnerable.

The room was quiet for a long while.

Then, his voice—

“Did I scare you?”

Her eyes, drooping slightly like she might fall asleep, immediately shot open.

She debated moving so she could look at him. But Suna didn't move. Just stayed where he was, breathing steadily, his thumb still brushing small circles against her spine. But it was his voice that gave him away. Quiet. Careful. Laced with something unspoken. Guilt, maybe. Or doubt.

Her chest ached.

“No,” she said softly. “You’d never scare me.”

And she meant it.

But she didn’t know how to explain the rest—that it wasn’t fear holding her back, but the opposite. That it was the feelings she had buried, the ones she had never voiced that made her back down. The ones that had clawed their way back to the surface the moment he touched her tonight.

She swallowed, choosing her words wisely.

“It just… felt like a lot, all at once.”

A pause.

Then a quiet hum from him. Not disbelieving, not dismissive—just thoughtful. Like he’d been hoping for more, but wouldn’t ask.

Instead, he just pulled her closer.

His hand settled again on her back, firm and grounding. Like he was telling her, wordlessly, that he was still here. That nothing had changed.

She let herself believe it.

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [6]

Weapon design always came easy to Jack Fenton. He grew up with it, all the way back in Atlantis, when he was just a little guppy.

What he wasn’t aware of at the time was that his parents were from a long and prestigious line of scientists and weapon manufacturers in Atlantean society. But things had been getting dangerous. 

The King at the time cast them out when they refused his demands of greater, stronger, deadlier weapons. The kind of weapons they knew would not only destroy their enemies, but themselves as well.

They fled and went where they thought they would never be found, the surface.

Jack had the easiest time adapting, being as young as he was getting used to breathing air was a lot less of a struggle. 

He adopted one of the most generic male names he could, and adapted the family name of Fenestratus into Fenton. And then it was just living as a human, as humanly as possible, nothing to see here.

By now Jack basically doesn’t know any better. but this piece of heritage is coming back now all these years later, when his son is looking to him for help from the government.

But first he holds his boy close and apologizes, because he sees the fear, and he understands a little too well, and he doesn’t like the picture he’s seeing now that all the puzzle pieces are falling into place.

“I almost became the thing I hate the most. I’m so sorry Danny, I’m sorry I made you feel unsafe in your own home”

The hug is long and warm and tight and Danny isn’t ashamed to admit he might have clung a little bit.

Then Jack holds Danny tightly by his shoulders and gives him a big grin, “Good news though, you’re only half ghost, the other half is not only human but also Atlantean, and there are laws protecting us now” Jack mutters to himself, “I wonder if the whole ghost stuff would actually be put under the meta protection thing… hmm”

Danny blinks for a moment, Jazz gapes, Maddie is suddenly no longer spiraling about how her baby boy got in a terrible accident in their lab and she didn’t know.

“I’m also what?”

“Dad!?”

“oh did I forget to mention that? I thought I did, I know for certain that I had been meaning to”

“Jack sweetie, are you-”

“oh yes, and I remember now, I decided to tell you after our big breakthrough because I didn’t want to distract you, and-” Jack looks sheepish, “I hope you aren’t too mad at me Maddiecakes”

“mad? oh I would never be mad at you about this but we could have- I don’t know, accommodated- Atlanteans are aquatic, well I guess that explains how you could always put away so much water, and when you gave me your umbrella and I thought you were just making an excuse when you told me you didn’t mind and in fact loved getting pelted by the rain-”

Maddie goes on, and Jack thinks to himself that this is exactly the reason why he kept it to himself at the time, Maddie never half asses anything, he’s sure a lot of things are going to change in the house now, it honestly only makes him fall in love with her even more.

Meanwhile Jazz had filled up a bucket of water and then dunked her head in, then came back out not even slightly gasping for breath, just saying “oh my god” over and over.

Danny timed it, “yeah okay, I guess that proves it. now I’m starting to wonder if my weird relationship with air is ghost related at all”

[sweetascherry1]

I’ll be watching you — Lee Byung-hun

Description: Over the years your fans has slowly watched you and Lee Byung-Hun fall in love. They finally get to see you guys working on a project together for the first time since G.I. JOE. What even better? The promotion for the Netflix hit Squid Games.

Parings: Lee Byung-Hun x Actor F!Reader

Warnings: Some use of Y/N.

2013 G.I. JOE Retaliation Promotion.

The bright lights of the cameras shined on you and your co-star, while the interviewer asked you basic questions.

“So how did the two of you feel with this new casting. Mr Lee who had already played in the original G.I. Joe movie and you who has just now made her debut.”

You look to Byung-hun silently pleading for him to take on the question first. Luckily one look your way and he knew your silent question. Something you had found yourself grateful for.

“The entire cast is full of amazing actors, who are so caring and gentle.” Slowly you felt your nails picking at your cuticles as you thought of your answer. “I had a lot of fun working with these guys — and everyone on the crew makes it so fun.”

You didn’t noticed at first, and honestly neither did the interviewer. He was so slick with the way he slid his hand into yours, stopping your bad habit. Giving your hand a gentle squeeze before you answering as encouragement.

Your voice didn’t waver as you let the warmth of his hand bring you back to earth.

“Working on a project this big, with these actors who I truly admire is something I’m so excited about. This my ‘debut’ and it’s crazy to me that this is all really real.”

Before the interviewer could ask his next question Byung-hun didn’t think before keeping your conversation going. Helping your nerves.

“Going Hollywood is definitely something that is nerve wracking. I remember how crazy the whole thing was for me.”

Your little smile at him made the fans go crazy when the video came out. The hand holding, and little gentle reassurances he would do throughout the entire thing was something fans couldn’t get enough of as they would re-watch it over and over.

—

Photos flashed everywhere, blinding you as you stepped onto the movie premiere. Your dress was gorgeous, just like you. Your hair and makeup styled perfectly, you had honestly felt like a princess.

And in true prince fashion, Byung-hun stepped in when he saw you picking as your nails again.

Smiling at the photographers, he grabbed your hand. Leaning down to whisper in your ear; “your hands are too pretty to mess up. Squeeze mine instead.”

When he straightened his posture, and smiled once again for the cameras, as if nothing happened, you couldn’t help but think maybe that’s when you first felt it.

Devotion, wrapped in admiration.

He had helped you so much with your anxiety, some would say it was inevitable to favor him. “Thank you.” All he did was simply squeeze your hand back.

The blinding lights going crazy over the hand holding. Surely it would cause rumors, but for once you didn’t let it get to your head. Simply holding his hand instead.

—

For Lee Byung-hun, he had only thought of you as a co-worker. While your admiration for the man was so obvious, he couldn’t help but thing it was a silly crush you had because he helped you in tough situations.

He kept it professional, denying at friend invites you sent him, or any drink you’d offer him. Though he changed perspectives after watching you most recent single interview.

“Many of your fans are interested with your relationship with your co-star Lee Byung-hun. Can you elaborate on it?”

Truth was you felt nervous at this question, you didn’t know the right way to answer. Though you knew you wanted to be honest and not let the rumors continue, even if it may disappoint some.

“Ah, well truth be told there is no relationship I can really explain. This movie is the first time I’ve had such a big role.

While filming, it’s true I had quite a few scenes with Storm Shadow, more often than not. While filming those scenes I’d watch the way Lee Byung-hun embodied his character.

It was something I was truly impressed about, and so since our characters were so intwined with each other — we were paired for most promotional videos.”

You took a deep breath before continuing, grateful that the interviewer didn’t interrupt.

“During our first promo video, I was extremely nervous. This is such a big film and I was so in my head — seeing this my co-working held my hand to help with my anxiety.

People who support me loved it. Was all for it, but all it was, was him helping a co-worker out. The same thing happened at the movie premiere.

While on that carpet my heart was pounding and he was there to offer support. That’s all, the rest is rumors. I simple just admire him and someone to learn from.”

You felt a little shaky but ultimately felt better after clearing air. In your eyes Mr Lee Byung-Hun was uncomfortable about the rumors. That’s why he wouldn’t ever socialize much with you, so you had felt proud of yourself for putting an end to it.

On the other hand, him hearing you say you only admire him from a person to learn from had hit him hard. A person he knew actually looked up to him. It was an honor, one he had became proud of.

So when he saw you next, he didn’t beat around the bush.

“I’m a person you admire?” You didn’t have a crush on him like he originally thought, and that’s the moment he wanted you be your friend.

That’s the moment he had devotion towards you. Devotion wrapped in friendship.

—

Your final cast interview. It was a long experience, but an unforgettable one. This whole movie had became something you truly loved, cast included.

“Each of you will read out a card, and say the answer within ten seconds. If you get it, you’ll gain points. Whoever has most wins.”

A simple game to finish it off. Easy peasy.

To the right of you, Dwayne went first. “In ten words, explain the film.” He read off before hurrying to put ten words out.

“Cobra.” One finger up. “Escapes.” Another. “While. Joes. That. Are. Left. Fight. Back.” One last word, but just before he could think of it — getting stuck the timer went off.

The whole crew laughed at his disappointment, and then next was your turn.

“I’m nervous.” You gave one deep breath before reading out your card. “Why should you watch the new movie.”

One. Two. “Have you seen this cast?” Five. Six. “Just look at Dwayne’s muscles.” Everyone laughed.

Dwayne got a little red, causing a little teasing. It was a good moment, a happy moment. So why was Byung-hun laughing?

In fact as it was a viral clip, not you teasing Dwayne, no it was Lee Byung-hun reaction that was viral.

“Have you seen this cast?” Byung-hun kept his entire focus on you, not even looking away once when you spoke. In fact throught most of the interview, he barely paid anyone else much attention. “Just look at Dwayne’s muscles.”

A bitter feeling bubbler under his skin, as he felt his blood hot. His jaw visibly clenched, as he glared at the man in question. Before looking you up as down, his fist the next to clench. Not a single laugh leaving his lips let alone a smile.

It went very viral, and Lee Byung-hun didn’t even try to deny what they were saying. Jealousy, yes. Though it wasn’t because he was romantically interested. He just felt a sense of belonging over you. Not in a toxic way, or at least not in his eyes.

Truth be told you only mentioned to him simply because you didn’t want him to be mad at you.

“What that video going around about?” A simple question. He was in your living room, laying down on your lap, eyes closed while you mindlessly scrolled through instagram.

Instantly he knew what you were talking about and once again he didn’t defend himself.

“I didn’t like how you mentioned him.”

“His muscles.”

A scoff slipped past his lips, “I have those too, you know?” He sat up, and didn’t hesitate to lift his shirt up to show you. His abs briefly capturing your full attention.

“Yea but there’s already enough rumors about us.” That was true, and he knew that but he just didn’t care.

“Let them talk.” He brushed a hair out your face, “we’re friends, and friends go over co-workers.”

Friends, neither of you doubted the word. But we’re friends so devoted to one another? So admirable to the other? So protective? Yet the word was never doubted.

—

Over the years

Over the years, neither of you worked on a project again. That didn’t matter, your friendship was still so ever strong.

Often at each other’s house, getting food, attending events. All your fans had was an occasional post about the other.

Once you posted putting a pretty pink bow in his hair, his face was in complete annoyance.

“Byung-hun. Look at me!” He knew you had your phone recording and he debated on weather or not to snatch before looking at you. Ultimately he settled for a glare.

“My pretty princess.” Oh he just might kill you. His head tilted as suddenly you felt a little hotter as he look up at you. Like he was going to devour you alive. “Princess? I’m the one that pampers you—“ before he could continue the video went black.

It was a fond memory of your and you had posted it. As expected whenever a post involving the other popped up it blew up.

Though his comment made even more chaos. As he so much loves to do. No joke, before he made the comment he laid on your bedroom floor breaking silence as he watched the video.

“How can I make this more chaotic.” You couldn’t help but sigh at him.

I dream so often of shutting your mouth. Any ideas?

It went crazy. Then again you’ve done that before, comment a wild thing on his post.

For instance, he posted a picture of himself sweating. Chain dangling (one you got him) and a devilish smile.

Have my kids, I’ll never talk back.

Yea?

You had purposely also sent him a private audio message, cat calling him.

The uproar your fans had, oh well let’s just say many articles broke out.

It was honestly fun, watching your fans want something so bad and just dangle it. Made the two of you feel euphoric on the power.

Yet that wasn’t the only thing you two had found euphoric.

Eventually at one point the two of decided to drink and drink. None of you think before you both crossed a line that was already so faded.

You kissed, and then kissed. Until you ending up the next morning both naked in bed.

The two of you decided for the best that none of it ever happen again, but even though you didn’t — it doesn’t mean you two forgot. In fact neither of you can look at wine the same.

Though, y’all’s restraint fell apart eventually as the two of you kept ending up in each other’s bed.

Most people wouldn’t be shocked if they knew, but oh the two of you were dumbfounded on why you guys could resist each other.

So began your friends with benefits era. A classic.

As that era ended, you both realized you had wanted more, so eventually causal dating was the next step for the two of you. In private of course.

—

Promotion of squid games

You and Byung-Hun both sat in front of cameras. Each looking at fan made videos. It was nice to see such creativity, or that what you thought going into this.

As the first video played, with weird dancing and animation, you couldn’t understand how Byung-Hun could keep a straight face.

“That was for sure… interesting.” The side eye you gave him, and then the camera was definitely clipped.

“I feel wrong.” Is all you had simply said. Which was true. “Definitely love the work put into this, and I think it’s cool how people made this. Just… not my cup of tea.”

A few more weird videos broke out, and some nice one with people singing the theme song, and etc.

The next fan video was an edit of the two of you. Simply just watching each other as the lyrics in the video played. Romantics clearly intended.

It didn’t surprise the two of you. Byung-hun turned his head to you, laughing a little.

“You know, a lot of our fans watched this show for us being in a film together. Yet our characters actually despise the other.” Your smile felt contagious to him as you laughed back.

“Are we the problem?”

The man simply nodded his head back before the two of you watched the next video.

—

Instagram

Liked by byunghun0712 and 345k others

yourusername Coming soon! ⏰

Username1 Ah! So exciting

Yourbestfrienduser MOMMY?!

byunghun0712 is this how I find out?

Liked by Yourbestfrienduser

Username2 OMFG 😭

Username3 so proud to Stan her

Liked by Yourusername and 455k others

byunghun0712 how come you never buy? @ yourusername

Yourusername cause I’m spoiled.

Liked by creator

Username1 see how me and him both eat McDonald’s? Meant to be trust

Yourusername honestly you’re so real for that.

Username2 AH, I love you in squid games

Username3 Frontman ❎ Hotman ✅

—

Lie detector interview.

“We are going to give you a set of questions, please answer yes or no.”

Nerves picked at your skin as your watch Byung-hun opposite from you.

They would start with true or false trivia, before going into more detail questions. He gave you a reassuring smile before reading out the first words.

“Is your name really Y/N?” Easy. “Yes.” The detector person gave a thumbs up and he went onto the next question.

“Is it true that you play in squid games season 2?” Another easy one. “Yes.” One more true or false. “Is it true you are very nervous?” The look you gave him was the most ‘duh’ bratty attitude ever.

“Yes.”

“Okay, now onto the actual questions.” He looked down at his card, almost laughing before reading it out to you.

“Have you ever injured yourself on the set of squid games?” You knew exactly what he was thinking about, and it took you a moment not to laugh as well.

“During one of my earlier scenes, I was drinking wine, that I thought was grape juice.” Byung-hun placed a card over his growing smile as you continued. “Well no one actually thought I was drinking actual wine. Nor did I. So I ended up getting a little flushed and tripped off my chair spraining my ankle.”

Amusement wouldn’t even began the joy your co-star had as he remembered the day he carried you back to your trailer.

“Did you have to learn Korean for this film.”

You tilted your head as you thought about it. “I didn’t learn it for this film, but I had learned it a while ago to surprise you because I felt bad you had to translate your thoughts before saying them.”

Lee Byung-hun remembers the first time you spoke to him in Korean. In fact he thinks that was the moment he fell in love with you.

You two had become the definition of she fell first but he fell harder.

You use to mess up so much, and he always loved it. Now you’re pretty fluent but he loves the moments where you ask him for help.

“Tell me more about your character.”

“I play a foreign player, that is intended to remind Gi-Hun about Ali. When I get into the games lots of drama, funny and stressful things begins to happen. I don’t wanna spoil it.”

“Well you passed!” As your began to unhook yourself from the machine, “not a single lie.”

“Not like I could.” You would rather be seen as the honest person you were anyways.

You had asked your co star similar questions but one was a heavily asked fan question.

“What’s your relationship with Co-Star Y/N L/N.” Even you began to feel nervous. Dating. You two were dating and had went a very long time keeping your confirmed relationship private.

But, as you both looked at each other you both knew there wasn’t a point in keeping things a secret.

“Dating.”

Let’s just say the PR for squid game was better than gold.

A/N: I have so many WIP, but no motivation to finish them 😭. So this is my very half attempt to get out of this writing slump! Otherwise I might go insane.

[beelinx]

heyyaaa! If you have time in ur schedule, could you please do ‘protective boyfriend’ head-cannons or a blurb for Tsukishima and Osamu? (I humbly ask of you if you’re able to and if you can Matsukawa or Tendo as well😔🙏ONLY IF YOU WANT TO THO)

remember to drink water heh

haikyuu men as protective bfs <3

ft. tsukishima, osamu, matsukawa, and tendou !

note: honestly it was sm fun to write this, but i think most of this is ooc and over exaggerated 😭 anyways chat think of this as a new year's gift ! 🥳 warnings: annoying men... mention of tits in osamu's. use of babe, bitch, and prude in tendou's. use of babe in matsukawa's. ooc tendou and matsukawa probably 😖 fem!reader !!

✧｡ kei tsukishima

going to your boyfriend’s volleyball matches was always a fun experience. the electricity and passion some players exuded was truly contagious. 

also, you got to see him being all hot and sweaty.

definitely an amazing time!

everyone in the sendai frogs were always incredibly welcoming to you, too. his teammates even ask about you when you’re not there (or, at least that’s what tsukishima tells you). regardless of whether or not he’s telling the truth, you would say you do feel truly welcome and comfortable around there.

today was match day. you made sure kei had everything ready, though it’s not like he’s the type to be forgetful or anything. still, he lets you fuss over him all you want without uttering a complaint (which you know must have been truly difficult for him).

once you got to the location where his team would be playing, he bid you goodbye with a short peck on the cheek. his teammates waved to you, too. there were two new teammates, just as kei had told you. you recognized kentaro from highschool, and though he still had the same grumpy attitude, he was nice enough to you. the other guy, though… you had no clue who he was.

settling on a seat with a decent view of the match, you prepared yourself for the exhilarating time you were probably about to have.

and that you did.

the sendai frogs won 2-1, and you really couldn’t have been happier. well, actually, it felt as if you were about to have a heart attack throughout the duration of that whole game. everytime kei jumped up to block a powerful spike you felt your heart jump. you imagined any doctor would think you’re close to having your heart malfunction.

you basically raced out of the audience seats, already ready to jump into your boyfriend’s arms and congratulate him with many kisses and hugs that he will probably complain about. whatever —he can mutter all the complaints he wants about pda and stuff, but you’re too happy to not smother him with love.

one problem, though.

you could not find him anywhere.

no matter, you figured he was probably in the changing room or something. you could just wait outside for him for a bit, and if he didn’t come out, you’d go look for him.

meanwhile, tsukishima was trying his hardest to not blow up at his new teammate.

“is she your friend, then?” he asked him. it was probably his 100th question regarding you at this point, and he was well past his tolerance limit.

“no.”

“so… your sister?”

tsukishima scoffed, you two didn’t even look alike. “no.”

“jeez, no need to be so harsh, dude. i just think she’s hot,” the guy stated, while changing into a clean shirt.

koganegawa, who’d been listening in, cheerfully piped up. “well, she’s his girlfriend! so i don’t think tsuki appreciates that very much.”

the guy’s eyes widened. “oh. i didn’t know dude, my bad.”

tsukishima cast him a cold glare and resumed changing without another word.

you were getting antsy waiting for him. what is taking him so long? you were bored. well, you figured enough time had passed that it’d be okay for you to go looking for him, so you did. but, while you were heading his way, you bumped into a man.

“oh! i’m so sorry! i was distracted,” you apologized deeply.

“it’s no problem, really. i-” the man said, before stopping abruptly.

“...is something the matter?” you asked, noticing the way the man’s wide gaze roamed over you.

a sudden grin appeared on his face, his expression resembling one of someone who’d just won the lottery ticket. 

“you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

you sputtered, taken aback by his directness. “oh uh… thank you?”

“can i have your number?” he asked, smirking at you.

“i have a boyfriend so uh…”

“awe come one, he doesn't have to know, right?” he chuckled. suddenly, you recognized the man in front of you. this was tsuki’s new teammate, the one you didn’t know anything about. he saw you with tsuki before the match, so why would he be asking you out? surely he knew you were his teammate's girlfriend?

“come on, just your number, yeah?” he persisted. “you’re allowed to have friends, aren't you?”

you laughed awkwardly, “well i um…”

“move.”

your boyfriend's harsh voice saved you from answering. the guy’s head snapped back, towards his teammate who was now towering over him. he suddenly seemed incredibly flustered, as if he hadn’t been expecting to be caught.

“oh, sorry man. i was just-”

“hitting on my girlfriend?”

“n-no! we were just talking, right?” he said, directing his question towards you.

tsukishima didn’t have to wait for your answer, he knew well enough what this man’s intentions were. “i would suggest you leave her alone, unless you’d like to make this a bigger problem than it has to be.”

the guy hesitated for a second, before he finally spoke. “y-yeah, of course. my bad.”

he scurried away, not without taking a few looks back at you two. your boyfriend scoffed, seemingly angrier and more upset at the situation than you were.

“that was hot.”

tsukishima’s widened as he snapped his head towards you and stared as if you were the most insane person he’d ever met.

“excuse me?”

“you’re hot when you’re protective,” you giggled. “do that more often.”

he raised a brow at you. “you’re crazy.”

“aww, that’s mean!” you fake pouted. “you have to make it up to me now.”

he tilted his head quizzically at you, deciding to humor you. “how?”

you grinned from ear to ear. “let’s go shopping!

noticing the way your eyes sparkled as you suggested that, he couldn’t possibly say no.

he rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses. “fine,” he agreed. “but we’re eating first. i’m starving.”

✧｡ osamu miya

most of your dates with osamu were indoors, in a private space where the only people around were you two. just relaxing with you is his favorite type of date. still though, he loves to spoil you. so, that’s exactly what he’s doing today.

“‘samu this is too much,” you’d told him.

“nonsense,” he replied simply. “i’m your boyfriend, therefore it’s my duty to spoil ya, isn’t it?”

“but this,” you said, signaling to the expensive outfit he’d bought you. “this is too expensive.”

he simply shook his head. “get dressed, yeah? i’m taking ya out.”

all you could do was roll your eyes and try to smother the grin that was threatening to come up.

the outfit he’d bought you was nice, really nice. you’d seen it at a store before, and you couldn’t help but think it was incredibly beautiful. he’d noticed, apparently, as he’d bought it without even taking note of the price tag. it was also kind of revealing, but nothing all that scandalous. you felt beautiful, really. you took note to make sure to be extremely grateful to him.

osamu loves cooking for you, he really does. he’s basically become your private chef, which works out since you also adore his cooking. tonight, however, he was temporarily relinquishing his title and taking you to some expensive restaurant. though he’d try to deny it, this was more a treat to him than to you. after all, he’s the one practically drooling as he looks over the menu.

you giggled as you looked at him, quickly scanning over the menu and deciding on what you’d be having.

“hello, are you both ready to order?”

you tilted your head up to look at the waiter, straightening your back as you realized you’d been slouching. “oh, yes, thank you,” you replied, quickly listing off your order, pointing at the items in the menu.

when you turned to look at osamu, he was staring daggers at the waiter. you frowned and kicked his leg under the table. he coughed awkwardly and listed off his order, too.

“what was that?” you asked, both concerned but also slightly amused.

“my order?”

“don’t mess with me, ‘samu.” you threatened.

“he was starin’ at ya.” he answered simply.

“well. yeah. i was ordering.”

“no, i mean like… staring at ya,” he emphasized. osamu sighed, “put this on.” 

he took off his jacket and handed it to you. “ya can take it off when we leave. or we can ask for a different waiter.”

you scrunched your eyebrows. “‘samu i really don’t think-”

“he was starin’ directly at your tits.”

your eyes widened. “oh!”

“yeah, so unless ya want me to bust open that guy’s head, please wear this for now.”

it was impossible to smother your grin as you put on his jacket. you giggled softly, “you’re so cute when you’re mad.”

he rolled his eyes lightheartedly, “sure.”

“oookay, here we go,” said the waiter as he returned minutes later. he gave osamu his food wordlessly, maybe too intimidated by the way he was glaring at him, or maybe just because he didn’t care.

“and food for the beautiful lady!” he chuckled as he placed your food in front of you. osamu’s jaw tightened. you looked down to your plate awkwardly.

“...thanks,” you said, starting to eat.

the waiter didn’t leave. it seemed he was waiting to say something, but didn’t. he hesitated, and once it finally seemed as if he was going to get the words out, osamu cleared his throat.

“we’re all done here, no need to linger,” he grumbled.

the man seemed taken aback by osamu’s hostility. you kicked him underneath the table again. “of course. right. i’ll be back later with your check.”

osamu hummed in reply. when he turned back to you, he was scowling. his silly face almost made you forget immediately about the awkward interaction that just took place. almost.

“you looked so mad, ‘samu. i almost thought you were gonna walk out of here.”

he looked at you as if you were a lunatic, then turned his gaze towards his food. “no jerk could ever make me waste food.”

you laughed. of course, nothing could ever come between osamu and his love for food. not even an annoying waiter. you suspected that, if an apocalypse ever took place, he would also prioritize his food over anything. except maybe you.

“when we’re done we should go get dessert. not here, though. i don’t want to see that fucker again.”

all you could do was laugh and roll your eyes at his pettiness.

✧｡ issei matsukawa

matsukawa is an easy going guy. he doesn’t lose his temper that easily. he doesn’t get mad over silly jokes. he lets maki tease him, doesn’t he? he tries his best to keep his composure during games. he even keeps his cool when his little brother is being all pissy. and yeah, he might get pissed at kentaro every once in a while, but who wouldn’t, what with that guy’s attitude and all?

that is the mantra he keeps repeating to himself over and over as he watches some jackass try to put the moves on you.

okay, well, that jackass is actually a really good friend of yours.

…which actually might make it all worse for him.

he can’t insult the guy or fight him, he’s your friend after all. at least that’s what you think. you seem blissfully oblivious to the guy’s painful crush over you.

matsukawa figures he can either break the news to you, or let you remain happily unaware. 

or better yet, a secret third option!

he can just break the guy’s jaw and make him never bother you again.

actually, that one might be a little extreme.

well, he had to do something. watching that jerk trying to get all touchy touchy with you pissed him the fuck off. even more than kentaro’s snarky comments.

“babe,” he called.

your head snapped towards him, your mouth immediately twisting into a delighted grin at the sight of him.

“issei!” you exclaimed. “i didn’t know you’d be here today. i thought you were hanging out with maki?”

he was, but maki had to leave early for a job interview. the detail didn’t matter, though. “oh, i just missed you so much i had to come back to you.” he snaked his arms around your waist, burrowing his head on your neck.

you slightly scrunched your eyebrows at his odd behavior. it wasn’t like him to act this way.

“i hope maki isn’t upset that you ditched him to hang out with me.”

“oh, not at all! he knows how important it is for guys to hang around their girlfriends.” he said, adding emphasis on the last word as he pulled away from you. he stared down the guy and pushed his shoulders back to appear taller. though it’s not like he needed to, mostly anyone can confirm how intimidating matsukawa can be thanks to his height.

your friend laughed nervously. “y-yeah.”

matsukawa wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “we should go on a date, then. what do you feel like eating?”

“oh, we were actually just about to go have lunch,” your friend chimed in, his voice suddenly sounding sure of himself.

matsukawa cast a dismissive glare towards him. “well she’s my girlfriend, isn’t she?”

your friend scoffed, “i don’t think-”

“perfect, then!” he interrupted your friend before he could object. “let’s go, babe. we can go to your favorite place. my treat, of course.”

“o-okay?” you replied, confused at the interaction that had just taken place.

you let matsukawa drag you all the way to the parking lot before pulling your arm away.

“what the hell was that?” you exclaimed.

“what was what?” he said, already seemingly back to his normal attitude.

“you were so rude to him!”

“i don’t think you should be friends with him anymore.” he simply answered, not exactly taking into account your previous comment.

you sputtered before finally saying, “since when do you have a say in who i’m friends with?”

he cast his gaze on you, soft, despite the current conversation. “i just don’t think he’s good company to have around.”

“what do you mean?”

he sighed, before finally admitting, “he’s in love with you.”

you blinked repeatedly at him in shock. “he is?”

“yes, and i don’t like that.”

you opened and closed your mouth, unsure on what to say.

“i didn’t know.”

“i know.”

both of you stood silently in the parking lot, before he finally gave in and spoke first. “i don’t want to control who you are or aren’t friends with. it’s not my job,” he sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “but i don’t feel exactly comfortable having you around him, knowing his intentions and all.”

you stared at him before meekly replying, “okay.”

he tilted his head, “okay?”

you nodded. “i understand what you mean. i, uhm… i’ll have a chat with him, to see if he does have feelings for me. i’ll cut him off if he does, because i don’t think i’d feel very comfortable around him then either.”

matsukawa nodded too. “alright. let’s go have lunch then. i think the place closes earlier today.”

you paused, “actually… can we go to the new place that just opened up nearby instead? i’ve been wanting to try it out.”

he laughed, “sure, whatever you say.”

✧｡ satori tendou

parties are fun, aren’t they? all the people, blasting music, drinks, and more, make an amazing atmosphere for those who enjoy it. and halloween parties are even better! who doesn’t enjoy a fun costume?

tendou can’t really say it’s his atmosphere. he also wouldn’t say that he fits into the group of people who don't like them. he’s just… okay with them. though, for you, he’s more than okay with them.

he let you put him in some cheesy halloween costume. a chef, you told him. you were dressed as some rat, though he thought you looked way too gorgeous to be called that. you had insisted the idea was cute, it was from a movie, after all. and, while he wasn’t entirely against the idea to begin with, all your insistence convinced him he had no way out of it either way.

“don’t you like it when i pull on your hair?” you had teased him. “it’s the perfect role for you.”

“and that is why i’m buzzing allllll my hair off.”

“don’t you dare!”

so, here you were. a big halloween party, both of you matching in a couple’s costume. he looked okay, but you… you looked absolutely breathtaking. before you left you had made a comment about being a sexy mouse, chuckling afterwards. a reference, he figured. he’d have to make you watch the movie with him later.

he definitely wasn’t the only one who thought you looked amazing. you know, taking into account the guy that was practically hanging onto you for dear life.

immediately, once he noticed that and how uncomfortable you looked, he rushed over to save you.

“ohhh, what do we have here?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light to hide his clear annoyance.

“oh, hey dude,” replied the man, having a noticeably slur to his words. “just tryna convince this babe to give me a little kiss, or come to the bathroom with me for some fun, ya feel me?” the man laughed, the smell of alcohol so strong he bet everyone in the party would have smelled it. 

tendou narrowed his eyes. “personal space sure is a fun thing, huh!” he said as he grabbed the man from his shoulders and tried to get him away from you.

the man pulled away and got closer to you once more, making you scoff in irritation, trying to pull him off once more. “ugh, this asshole just grabbed onto me while i was getting a drink!” you complained, turning your attention back to the man. “and i already told you, i have a boyfriend!”

the man faked being upset. “he doesn’t have to know, gorgeous. now stop being a prude bitch and-”

tendou’s fist moved faster than the man’s mouth.

the man stumbled back, caressing his jaw in shock. you scurried far away from him, standing behind tendou, whose fake cheerful attitude was long gone. 

he turned back to look at you, his face laced with concern.

“i’m fine,” you told him. noticing his doubt, you added, “i promise, okay? i’m fine.”

he nodded, seemingly convinced for now. and turned his attention back to the man.

it was almost like a switch turned on, really. first he was sweet and worried about you, then he returned to his mocking face. you figured it was an act, though. he wasn’t the type to get incredibly angry at others. but he messed with you, so tendou would probably murder the guy if he could.

the man spit into the ground and scoffed, “what the hell is wrong with you, man?”

“ohh, you know, i was just testing my theory on how many hits it would take for a pervert to get knocked out!” he fake-giggled. “do you want me to keep going?”

the man’s scornful gaze was casted onto tendou, who didn’t really seem like he was joking.

“you’re creepy as fuck man,” coughed the man, “and you’re insane. dunno why she’d choose you.”

“well i know why no one chose you,” tendou said, dragging the last word in a mocking way.

“let’s go.”

tendou snapped his head toward you, his wide eyes curious as he tilted his head.

“huh?”

“i’m tired. i just want to get some sleep,” you said, your voice so quiet you could’ve been an actual mouse. it broke his heart, really. how excited you were for the party, just to have your mood destroyed by some random creep.

he blinked at you, then blinked at the man, before abruptly standing tall. he decided it was best if he let the man be, and put his focus towards bettering your mood. you could watch that movie you referenced before, but you’d have to stop and buy snacks first. no matter, you are in dire need of more snacks in your pantry, so it’d work out. 

his looming frame towered over you as he replied, already set on his plan, “okay, let’s go!”

[omen-archive]

Campaign 3 At A Glance

Ever wonder what the top spell cast during Campaign 3 was? What about who rolled the most nat 20s, how many healing potions got used, or how long Bells Hells were adventuring for? At long last, we are thrilled to share ~C3 At A Glance!~

Before we get started: all of this data is available at omenarchive.com/c3, and there’s MUCH more—each of these categories is linked to a page with detailed breakdowns, rankings, time stamps, transcript excerpts, descriptions, and the like. For now, though, we wanted to give you a basic tour of what’s new. 

(This is a long one—click below to keep reading!)

Let’s start with time. C3 took place over 1,205 real-world days, mapping to a round 100 days in-game: from 17 Brussendar to 24 Quen’pillar of 843 PD (dates confirmed by CR). That’s a little over 14 weeks, or three months. 

The campaign ran 506 hours, 36 minutes, and 9 seconds long. The average episode was 4:11:12 long, with an average gameplay length of 3:46:50. Our total gameplay time spent with Bells Hells was 421:43:21, which is about 17.57 days. 

The top episode for critical successes was C3E120, with 18 PC nat 20s, and the top-critting PC was Orym, with 89. All in all, Bells Hells rolled 519 natural 20s... and 336 natural 1s, with Orym again taking the lead at 57. 

The party cast 1862 spells and 1162 cantrips, with the favorite spells being Sending, Cure Wounds, and Detect Thoughts, and the favorite cantrips being Guidance, Druidcraft, and Prestidigitation. The top caster was Imogen with 667 spells/cantrips followed by FCG with 574. 

We’ve got every spell logged, which means lists of top spells/cantrips by caster! Yes, even Ashton (thanks to Pass Without Trace). There’s too much to summarize, so see below for details—it's worth a look. And visit each individual character’s page for their full list. (Chetney / Laudna / Dorian / FCG / Braius / Fearne / Imogen / Orym / Ashton)

Time for some battle stats! First, it’s worth noting that we’ve divided up the data to clarify which stats refer only to Bells Hells, which include guests, and which are for the campaign as a whole. In some cases, we’ve listed both overall rankings and BH-exclusive rankings. 

Our top damage dealers for C3 were Imogen (5271 HP), Orym (4321), and Ashton (4081). The top BH episodes by damage dealt were C3E120 (3231 HP), C3E117 (936) and C3E91 (904). Collectively, BH + guests dealt 26493 HP of damage. 

That damage added up to 225 kills by BH + guests, with the top killers being Ashton (38), Imogen (37.33), and FCG (31.5). Matt asked “How do you want to do this?” for 88 of those kills.  

As for damage taken, Ashton and Orym lead the pack with 2651 HP and 2440 HP. The top BH episodes by damage taken were C3E120 (1239 HP), C3E091 (950), and C3E80 (614). In total, the party (including guests) took 16991 HP of damage. 

Over the course of the campaign, 34 healing potions were used, 243 HP of suffering were transferred, and PCs gave out 5862 HP of healing. The top healers were FCG (1451 HP), Trist (770), Deanna (711), Dorian (706), and Fearne (443).  

Of course, the campaign wasn’t without casualties. There were 61 KOs during Campaign 3, with Orym knocked out most often (10 times) followed by Ashton and Fearne (9 times each). C3E033 and C3E091, the two Otohan fights, led in PC KOs, with 9 and 8 respectively. 

There were 10 PC deaths, 3 of which were permanent. Interestingly, Ashton is the only PC to have died more than once (neither time in combat!), and Imogen and Dorian are the only founding members of BH never to have died at all. 

Now, here comes the fun stuff! They say the dice tell a story, but numbers do too.  

We’ve collected data—lots and lots of it—on things like which maneuvers Orym used most often (Goading Attack, 66 times, and Bait and Switch, 41 times), how many times Imogen and FCG read minds (67 and 24 respectively), and how many times Laudna used her Form of Dread (41). 

We’ve also got detailed data on uses of Sending (159, with 91 by Imogen) and Druidcraft (53, 50 by Orym), instances of Fearne’s Wild Shape (58, 28 of which turned her into animals like a slow loris and a giant shoebill), and Ashton’s rages (gravity was the most frequent type).  

Plus, of course, kisses, of which there were a heartwarming 81. 

We highly recommend clicking through to the main pages for each of these data types, as there’s a LOT more than meets the eye. 

During the course of the campaign, Chetney carved 42 items, Laudna called people capable 29 times (26 of them were Imogen), Dorian used Bardic Inspiration 21 times, Imogen had 17 dreams, and FCG and those who loved him said “smiley day” 88 times. 

FCG also baked 34 items and made and/or inspired 68 mentions of their flesh tongue, as well as 35 references to the planet being flat. Sorry, Matt. 

Braius painted 7 portraits (we have time stamps!), Imogen’s eyes flashed 31 times (we have descriptions!), and Fearne successfully stole 30 items (she probably still has most of those!).  

She also referred to herself by eight titles, our favorite of which is Professor Princess Fearne Calloway, Fey Scion of the Ancient Flame. 

As for Ashton, they said “fuck” a total of 1401 times, plus 329 more in Taliesin’s character narration. We’ve got a list of them all. 

The Quintessence Array was used ten times, on eight objects and two people. Delilah Briarwood was mentioned 152 times, and the Matron of Ravens 211 times. (Those are both subjective numbers—check out our charts for detailed lists of occurrences.) 

1531 items were exchanged, and the episode with the most items exchanged was C3E012 Make it Fashion, with 67 items. 

There were 89 whispers, Sam wore 22 different shirts with the cast’s faces on them, Marisha waved 14 fans, and Matt made 81 beautiful battle maps.  

We saw 42 beloved PCs, all of whose first and last scenes are catalogued here. 

Last but not least, Matt facepalmed a grand total of 343 times, with the most facepalmworthy episode being C3E032. We don’t know about you, but we think it’s time for a full rewatch. Is it Thursday yet? 

[gendertrickster]

i realized recently that vriska's left eye looking the way it is was what felt like an intentionally hidden detail throughout act 5 act 1, like it was a secret she kept deliberately. every appearance of her sans two in hivebent has her left eye obscured, by lack or otherwise

aside from times shown after she loses her eye, where she wears an eyepatch lens, she is ALWAYS shown wearing the augmented lens — a tool that specifically grants her more agency through letting her forcibly access information otherwise kept from her — and part of me can't help but wonder if it was an intentional mystery kept on hussie's part as to what vriska's eye actually looked like under there. there was never any indication that her left eye actually looked like the shape shown on the augmented lens, and it could easily be assumed, based on every troll aside from sollux, that her left eye looked the same as her right. this feels like a very, very defining thing for vriska in particular to hide. and it absolutely bears mentioning that the first time we ever see what her left eye looks like (one of TWO times in hivebent) is the same beat where it's revealed she was a PROSPIT dreamer

(the other time is [s] make her pay, which is the same idea)

and i feel like there's a couple different directions that hussie could've been wanting to take with this. one of them would be insane, because while it's basically entirely improbable in practice it would extend its way into fucking beyond canon if it were true:

it could, at one point in development, have been the case that vriska manifested her eye looking like that, given that we only see her dream self with this left eye in hivebent. at this point it was already established that dream selves can shape their forms manually to a degree (a la jade), and otherwise draw from the subconscious ideal one holds themself to (a la terezi). and given vriska's reliance on her vision eightfold (which to this point had been suggested as being solely possible through the vector of technological augment8ion) and everything that reliance represents in terms of her personal agency (and lack thereof), it would make sense if this were the reason her eye looked like that as her dream self but not her real self until later when she ascended to the god tiers and those two selves became one

this whole idea is already kind of dubious though, because we do see how vriska (allegedly) looked as a child, and she does also have the seven pupils, since there's also no reason to assume her eye didn't always look like that

but if that were true, why would it be kept such a secret in hivebent, especially by vriska herself?

(i can think of a couple reasons, actually.)

as i mentioned before, even now this "manifested vision eightfold" direction would still hold narrative weight, considering developments around vriska in beyond canon:

in chapter 2 of homestuck^2, vriska's new design is cemented, adding an eyepatch with an infinity drawn on it in her own cerulean swill blood over the wound she sustained just past the edge of canon

she wears this eyepatch, with its unique iconography, for eight years in the plot point, with one very notable exception:

chapter 4, where she is belittled into an episode of age regression, sporting again her glasses (which she had long stopped needing), her redoubled total lack of mental agency (which she really hoped would have been easier to leave behind than this), and her augmented lens (which, as established, she used as a crutch).

the parallel drawn all across here, then, is that her augmented lens is to her "vision eightfold"/seven-pupiled eye as her infinity eyepatch would be to her left eye once she could leave the point behind. and depending on how you interpret the existence of vriska's left eye — whether it was always there and caused her active dysphoria (as a mark associated with cerulean bloods, a textually-stated male-dominated caste) and dysmorphia (it made her look too alien, unlike almost all of her co-players), or whether she manifested it as something she had to have to maintain personal agency despite further alienating her appearance from that of her peers and of her preferred ideal for herself (thus also causing her the same dysphoria/dysmorphia) — that can mean different things.

the point as to whether vriska manifested it into existence is only sort of moot, though — homestuck is a story completely steeped in retroactive continuity, where once it's made clear that something is true, it was always true, and things like that can be manifested into truth by its own characters (a la jake). the state of vriska's left eye was a mystery until it was shown how it actually looked, and from then on it was always true, and was thus also true for aranea. but whether it was always true for aranea first banked on it being true for vriska, due to the trickle-down characterization homestuck is built on. this choice was made before aranea even existed as a character, after all.

and because of the nature of these manifestations, that truth had to come from various parts of vriska's arc in hivebent, like what the vision eightfold meant to her as the one thing she could use to get an edge in a world completely stacked against her. and who else would ever be able to metanarratively manifest such a relevant and contentious part of her own appearance (let alone that of an eye, the vector by which light is received) than vriska serket?

sure enough, after years of painful, traumatic work, she manifests it a second time.

vision infinityfold. unbounded freedom.

[sunsburns]

kiss of life (ii.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

kiss of life masterlist

summary: i actually suck at writing summaries but basically this is part two of part one of that soulmate au fic i posted a week ago lol

—or: luke castellan is being haunted by kronos and... well, you.

word count: 6.42k

warnings: sorry for any spelling errors, i haven’t checked yet, suppperrr angsty, luke castellan pov as he's slowly being corrupted by kronos, long reading time, descriptive injuries, blood, pre-tlt, luke is stubborn and a dick, loser!luke, annabeth smacking some sense to luke, grover being an icon, reader is lowkey unreliable tbh... cliff hanger (again... lmfao sorry)

a/n: part two!!! thank you guys for all the love on the first part! i am so grateful for everything and i love reading all the comments and reblogs. i hope this one doesn't end up flopping lmfaooo. i honestly wanted this to be a short angsty fic but i got carried away and now i'm planning a whole multi-part fic for this, phew. anyways enjoyyy <;33

At eighteen, Luke was cursed with nightmares. 

They clawed at the edges of his mind, threatening to unravel the fragile front of peace that he had fought so hard to maintain. Each night, he would awaken drenched in a cold sweat, the echoes of his tortured dreams lingering in the corners of his mind like a haunting melody.

The Hermes cabin, once a sanctuary from the outside world, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in around him with each passing moment. The moon, a silent witness to his torment, cast its ethereal glow through the window, illuminating the slumbering forms of campers. Some were children of Hermes, like himself, bound by the tenuous ties of blood and kinship. Others, however, were unclaimed, their parentage shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

And as Luke lay awake in the stillness of the night, a sense of loneliness washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of doubt. In the depths of his troubled sleep, he could feel the tendrils of darkness closing in around him, threatening to consume him whole. And try as he might to deny it, he knew that his nightmares held a deeper significance, a harbinger of events yet to unfold in the shadowy pits of fate.

His nightmares were callings. A taunting voice would echo through the corridors of his mind, its insidious whispers weaving a thought of deceit and manipulation. It masqueraded as a voice of reason, a beacon beckoning him towards a destiny that promised demigods everything.

At first, Luke dismissed it as nothing more than the ramblings of a tortured soul, the byproduct of his own restlessness. But as the whispers grew louder and more insistent, he could no longer ignore the chilling realization that they were something far more sinister—a call to arms, a summons to embrace his role as a harbinger of the new world.

The nights he wasn't shaking from night terrors, he was tossing and turning at the thought of you. And he didn’t know what was worse. He couldn't escape you. The haunting image of you lingered in his mind even during sleep — your lips, your eyes, your skin, your voice, and that shared scar and your demise.

But at least, you'd given up on him by then. Your persistent efforts to reach out to Luke gradually dwindled into nothingness. Though you were still everywhere, a shadow that seemed to torment his every move, you no longer gave him even a fraction of your attention.

Gone were the days of you seeking him out, your footsteps no longer echoing in the halls of Camp Half-Blood in search of him. You refrained from asking for Chris's help, no longer burdening him with questions on Luke's whereabouts. The notes you once left behind were now relics of a time long past, their words fading with each passing day.

And as the full moon rose once more over the waters of the lake, you no longer waited by its shores.

Luke turned in bed, his mind restless as he tried to shake the image of you. He pulled the covers tighter around himself, seeking comfort in the warmth they provided, but the chill of unease still lingered in the air.

His gaze drifted across the row of beds, each a testament to the diverse personalities that inhabited the Hermes cabin. The floor was strewn with a chaotic array of sleeping bags, toys, and discarded clothing, while a collection of rocks adorned one corner near the closets, and drawings adorned the walls.

Despite the usual chaos that reigned during the day, the cabin now lay quiet and still. The children of Hermes, along with the unclaimed children and the ones of minor gods, had finally settled into the embrace of sleep. 

But amidst the calm, a sense of unease gnawed at Luke's consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that had settled over him after he noticed the empty bed and the slightly ajar door. 

Luke pushed back the covers and rose from his bed. His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way toward the empty bottom bunk, hoping not to wake anyone. The sight of an old penguin stuffed animal discarded at the foot of the bed made him edgy. His eyes trailed to the traces of blood splattered on the hardwood floor, stark against the dim light filtering through the cabin windows.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Luke picked up the toy, its soft white and black material now stained with crimson. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he made his way out of the cabin, the urgency of his steps echoing in the stillness of the night.

He knew all too well who the missing camper was – five-year-old Penelope, one of the newest arrivals to Camp Half-Blood and possibly one of the youngest campers. Found wandering alone in the woods near the camp hill just a week ago, she had been brought to safety by a group of fellow demigods on a quest. Luke couldn't shake the resemblance she bore to a younger Annabeth, with her wide eyes and insatiable thirst for knowledge. He wouldn't be surprised if Athena claimed her as her own one day–that is if he ever found her.

Luke's worry for Penelope weighed heavily on his mind, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he combed through every inch of camp. The traces of blood he discovered fueled his unease, each droplet a stark reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond the safety of the camp's borders.

In his search, Luke traversed familiar paths and hidden corners, his footsteps echoing in the quiet stillness of the night. He scoured the armour, the climbing wall, and the camp store.

Luke had known all about campers disappearing, whether it be on a quest or to escape and try to live a normal life with humans that never really lasted long enough as monsters would dwell within the shadows outside of camp. 

It was in the dim glow of the kitchen lights that Luke finally caught a glimpse of Penelope, perched on the counter in her pyjamas, her hair adorned with two loose pigtails. A sense of relief washed over him at the sight of her safe and sound, yet it was short-lived as he noticed she wasn't alone.

His hand hovered over the door, hesitating as he listened to the soft murmur of conversation from within. With a steady breath, Luke pushed the door open ever so slightly, peering through the crack to catch a glimpse of Penelope. And you.

You, who looked older than when you first met in the infirmary. There was an air of maturity about you, a gracefulness that hadn't been there before. Your features seemed more refined, your presence commanding attention in a way that spoke of inner strength and resilience. Luke couldn't help but notice how your beauty had blossomed, surpassing the standards of mere mortal allure. It was a beauty that seemed to defy classification, uniquely yours yet undeniably captivating.

Despite this, Luke sensed a shift in your demeanour—a resignation, perhaps, to the reality of his ignorance. You had lost any hope you once harboured for him. His guarded nature would forever keep you at arm's length. And while part of him knew that this was for the best, a small, almost imperceptible part of him couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.

For in the crossroads of his heart, amidst the shadows that threatened to consume him, there lingered a faint glimmer of longing. The thought of being intertwined with someone who could offer solace in his darkest moments, who could bring light to the depths of his despair, held an undeniable appeal. And as much as he tried to deny it, the chance of you approaching him once more tugged at the fringes of his resolve, tempting him to let down his guard and allow you closer than he ever dared to imagine.

"So, you wanna tell me what you're doing up this late?" You approached Penelope with a gentle smile, a cookie in your hand as a peace offering. 

Your words hung in the air, gentle and coaxing, as you tried to draw Penelope out of her shell. Luke watched from the shadows, his gaze flickering between you and the young camper, a sense of admiration stirring at how you spoke to Penelope.

Penelope hesitated, her gaze shifting between the cookie in her hand and you. 

"You don't know?" You persisted, your voice a soft murmur that carried a hint of playfulness. You settled beside Penelope on the counter, your posture was relaxed as you leaned in closer to her. "Is it... a secret?" you whispered.

Luke noted the subtle change in your demeanour, the way you seemed to adapt effortlessly to Penelope's shy nature. It was a side of you he hadn't seen before, one that resonated deeply with him.

As Penelope nodded in response to your question, you continued, your tone gentle and reassuring. "Let me tell you a secret," you offered, holding up your pinky finger as a symbol of trust. "I am the best secret keeper in this camp. I pinky promise."

After a moment's hesitation, Penelope tentatively reached out, her tiny finger linking with yours in a hesitant pinky promise. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Penelope murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I got hurt."

"What?" You gasped in genuine concern, your eyes widening as you shifted your attention to the young camper. "Can I see?"

Penelope nodded silently, her arm outstretched towards you. Luke observed from his vantage point, his heart twisting with worry as he noted the faint hint of red near Penelope's elbow.

You took Penelope's arm into your hands gently, your touch tender and reassuring as you rolled up the sleeves of her pale pink pyjamas. Luke couldn't help but notice the familiarity of those pyjamas, a subtle reminder of Annabeth's kindness and resourcefulness in making Penelope feel at home.

"Oh, wow, that looks like it hurts," You remarked softly, your brows furrowing in sympathy as you retrieved a first aid kit from the nearby cabinets. "You're handling it very well," you praised Penelope, your tone gentle and encouraging. "So brave of you."

Penelope watched you attentively as you began to clean her wound, her small frame tense with discomfort. "I don't feel brave," she admitted quietly.

"No?" You glanced up at her, "why not?"

"I miss my mommy."

Her words were tinged with a sense of longing that struck a chord with both you and Luke.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, his thoughts drifting to his own longing for his mother. Penelope's admission resonated with him deeply, reminding him of the ache that never truly faded, no matter how many years passed, no matter how deep he tried to bury it. 

It was a sentiment shared by every demigod at camp, a silent ache that echoed through the cabins and training grounds. Yet, it was a pain rarely spoken aloud as if verbalizing it would make it all too real, too unbearable.

The yearning for a parent, for someone to fill the void left by their absence, weighed heavily on each camper's shoulders. It was a burden they carried silently, masking their vulnerability with bravado and determination. But for Penelope, the longing was raw in its innocence.

At just five years old, she was too young to fully comprehend the extent of her emotions. She couldn't grasp the complexities of her situation, the world of gods and monsters that surrounded her. All she knew was the absence of a mother's embrace, the absence of a comforting presence to soothe her fears and wipe away her tears.

It was a pain she didn't deserve, a burden too heavy for such a young soul to bear. The gods, in their arrogance and indifference, seemed oblivious to the lives they had shattered, and the pain they had inflicted upon their own children.

"Yeah?" You responded gently, "How much do you miss her?"

"This much," Penelope replied, her small hands spreading wide.

"Wow! That's a lot," you remarked, a sombre note underlying your tone as you processed Penelope's words. After a beat of silence, you shook off the heaviness of the moment and mustered a smile for her. "There we go. All cleaned up," you announced cheerfully, pressing a bandaid onto her elbow.

Penelope's smile widened in response, a glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes as she kicked her feet. In a quiet voice barely above a whisper, she murmured her thanks to you.

"So, you wanna tell me how you got hurt?"

"I don't know." This had been the most Luke had ever seen Penelope talk, and while her voice was still timid, the words slipping out hesitantly, she seemed to confide in you. "I woke up because my arm hurt."

"The cut was just there?" You asked, and when she nodded, you hummed sympathetically. "...I get those too, you know."

Penelope's eyes widened, "You do?"

"Yes," you affirmed with a soft chuckle. "A lot of people do. You get them from your soulmate. Did your mom ever tell you about soulmates?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, a long time ago, humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces," You explained.

"What?"

"I know, right? Super freaky. So freaky that Zeus decided to split them in half. So, now we have two arms, two legs, and one face."

"What happened to the other half?"

"That's our soulmate. Our other half. And Aphrodite gave us a gift to help us find our soulmate." The smile that had adorned your face slowly waned, "Every time you get hurt, your soulmate gets hurt too."

"Is that why you have a cut on your face?"

The question lingered, hanging in the air like a whispered secret. Luke held his breath, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response. But instead of answering, you reached out to Penelope, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you guided her off the counter.

"Let's get you back to your cabin."

Your words were gentle, a soft reassurance for Penelope's sake, but Luke could sense the undercurrent of sadness that ran beneath them. As you led Penelope away, Luke's heart ached in a way that felt so familiar yet foreign at the same time. It burned the same way it did when he returned from the quest when he hated the world and everyone in it, but this time, the only person he could find himself hating was himself.

He retreated from the door, clutching the stuffed animal in his hands. He felt a fleeting reminder of the times he would hide from the monsters with Thalia.

Luke's mind swirled with discordant emotions, each thought a whirlwind of uncertainty. He knew he didn't deserve your answer, didn't deserve the solace of your words. He had made it clear too many times to count that he never wanted a soulmate, never wanted you.

But despite his protests, despite the walls he had built around his heart, Luke couldn't deny the tug that pulled him to you, the hunger in his soul that refused to be ignored. It was a longing he couldn't shake, a yearning that whispered of a connection he dared not embrace. Knowing that keeping you away was the only way to protect you from the darkness that lurked within him was what kept him sane.

"Luke?"

The sound of his name tore Luke out of his thoughts like a violent gust of wind. He spun around, finding you standing on the porch to the kitchens, Penelope at your side. She held your hand, a small beacon of warmth and light in the dimness of the night. 

It seemed too perfect, too surreal, and Luke couldn't help but feel a pang of disbelief. Were you trying to kill him? It had been too long since the last time he spoke to you, let alone stood so close to you, and here you were, the epitome of what a demigod should be, even if you were still in the dreaded bright orange camp shirt.

"Hey," he managed to say.

You continued to descend the stairs, each step cautious and deliberate. "What- uh, what are you doing up?"

"I was actually looking for Penelope." Luke motioned to the girl hiding behind your legs. When he caught her eye, Penelope grinned and let go of your hand, darting over to Luke and jumping into his arms. He lifted her easily, a small smile tugging at his lips as he handed her the stuffed toy she had left behind. 

"Oh." You hummed, "I didn't know you're a Hermes kid?"

"I'm unclaimed," Penelope chimed.

"For now," Luke's voice was gentle as he held Penelope in his arms. "And what were you doing up?"

"I was looking for a bandaid. I got lost." Penelope's words were punctuated by a soft yawn, and she nestled her head against Luke's shoulder, her exhaustion evident in every movement.

You hesitated, your gaze shifting to meet Luke's. "I found her by the canoes... near the dock."

The silence that settled between you felt heavy, suffocating almost as if it threatened to engulf you both. Luke found himself wandering back to the memories of you waiting for him at the dock during the summer nights and the regret that weighed heavily on his heart for never approaching you. He remembered the countless times he stood among the trees, watching you from afar, paralyzed by his own insecurities and fears.

Were you waiting for him there tonight? 

No, you couldn't have.

Guilt gnawed at him, threatening to consume him whole. "Listen, I-"

"I'm gonna go." You cut him off abruptly, your voice carrying a hint of tension. "Counsellor duties and all. I've got cabin checks in the morning so... you know, I gotta print papers... and stuff..."

Luke frowned at your lame excuse. "It's midnight."

"It's never too early to start now." You huffed defensively. "Bye, Penelope."

"Bye," Penelope mumbled sleepily, her hand lazily waving in your direction as you walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night and the trail leading to the Aphrodite cabin.

As they made their way back to the Hermes cabin, Luke held onto Penelope tightly, feeling the weight of her small body in his arms. The night air was cool against his skin, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of shame for the unease he noticed in you earlier. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that seemed to have formed between you, but the words remained trapped in his throat.

Once they returned to the warmth of their cabin, Luke moved with a careful grace, mindful not to disturb the sleeping campers around them. He gently placed Penelope back on her bed and tucked her in. But as he began to step away, her small hand shot out, wrapping around two of his fingers. Luke froze, eyes wide with surprise.

"Luke?" Penelope's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence of the cabin like a knife.

"Yeah?" Luke's voice was equally quiet.

"I think your soulmate is really cool." 

Penelope's words hung in the air, a simple statement that carried more weight than he could have ever anticipated.

Seven hours later, the memory of your face lingered in Luke's mind like an unshakeable ghost. Tossing back and forth in his bed, he tried to rid himself of the image, but it clung to him like a shadow. Each time he closed his eyes, your face flashed before him, haunting his thoughts. Even when he turned away, the spectre of Kronos lurked in the depths of his subconscious, a reminder of the choice that still loomed over him.

As morning broke over Camp Half-Blood, Luke found himself seated at the breakfast table, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of his fellow campers. Annabeth's presence brought a brief distraction.

She slid into the seat in front of him during breakfast and gave him a strange look, slightly out of breath from the morning rush, a half-eaten apple in hand.

"Hey," she greeted him, her voice carrying a note of concern. Pausing to tie back her braids, she studied him intently. "Who you looking for?"

Luke's response came too quickly, "No one," he replied, his voice strained. Thankfully, Chris had left earlier because he was in charge of the climbing wall in the morning, he wasn't there to tell Annabeth that Luke had been looking for you. His eyes scanned the sea of faces in the dining hall, a futile attempt to catch sight of you amidst the crowd. He felt pathetic. "What's up with you?"

Annabeth raised her brows. "Archery? Together? Remember? Or did you forget?"

"No. I didn't forget."

She only stared at him, skeptical.

"What?" he asked, "why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Oh, I get it," Annabeth's smirk hinted at a newfound understanding, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the dining hall, as she shook her head and rested her chin on her hand. "How long are you planning to keep this up for?"

Luke frowned, confused.

"This entire act you have with... you know," She didn't need to say your name for him to catch on. "It's getting out of hand, no?"

"I..." Caught off guard by her directness, Luke hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Choosing to play dumb, he feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right." Annabeth's knowing look pierced through his facade. She was always too perceptive for her own good. Fixing him with a narrowed gaze, she gave him a playful kick under the table, the impact enough to draw a startled reaction from Luke. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she took another bite of her apple before teasing him further. "Well, Grover said you're killing yourself."

"What?" He blinked at her, taken aback, "I'm not killing myself. Grover's just being dramatic."

"I don't think so." She said, slowly, carefully forming her words. "I mean, if I had a soulmate..."

Luke's defences bristled at the mention of soulmates, a topic he preferred to avoid. "Is this all you wanted to talk about?" 

"I'm allowed to worry, "Annabeth reminded him, her words tinged with a gentle insistence. "Family, remember?"

The word 'family' carried weight, a reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged over the years. It was a phrase Annabeth often employed to coax Luke out of his shell, to encourage him to confide in her. When they were younger, 'family' meant everything to Luke, thanks in no small part to Annabeth's influence.

"You don't need to worry," Luke assured her, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his resolve. "I know what I'm doing." But did he? Luke longed for the simplicity of a time before he met you when the idea of having a soulmate seemed like a distant fantasy. Now, every decision he made, every scar he bore, carried weight, knowing it could impact you in ways he couldn't comprehend.

"The least you can do is get to know her before she leaves."

Her words struck a chord within him, prompting Luke to cast a discreet glance around the dining hall, searching for you amidst the bustling crowd again.

"She's leaving?"

"Not forever, "Annabeth clarified with a chuckle, "Just on a quest. Search and rescue. Nothing fancy."

"...How do you know this?" he said after a moment.

"Chiron told me," Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly. "He also told me to tell you that the ceremony is tonight. I hope that doesn't kill you."

It did kill him a bit. At least, it felt like it did. Luke Castellan moved through camp with a sense of urgency, his strides purposeful yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding weapons, throbbed with a dull ache with the burn from the bow and arrow. 

Shoulders tense, skin prickling under the relentless glare of the sun, he scanned the bustling campgrounds.

The weight of his bow rested heavily on his shoulder, the familiar weight offering a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. With practiced precision, he counted the arrows in his quiver, his movements fluid and sure. 

Then, he heard it—the sound that drew him like a siren's call. Your voice, lilting and laughter-filled, cut through the clamour of the camp, pulling him toward you like a magnet. There you stood, leaning against the doorway of the Hephaestus cabin, a clipboard clutched to your chest as you exchanged banter with Atticus, the skilled swordsmith whose craftsmanship had forged Luke's sword.

There was something different about you today, something delicate, more approachable than he had ever seen before. Last night, with Penelope, you had worn a similar expression—gentle, caring—but it was a side of you that Luke had never been privileged to witness. With him, you had always been guarded, reserved, as though afraid that he would cut or maim you.

As you scribbled something onto your clipboard, Luke found himself intrigued by the way your smile softened. It was a stark contrast to the confident facade you often wore, and for a moment, Luke felt a pang of guilt for pushing you away so soon.

Unbeknownst to you, you were drawing closer to Luke with each step, your path inexorably leading you toward him. Part of him craved to reach out, while another part hesitated, unsure of how to talk to you after all this time.

"Hey," Luke finally managed to utter as you drew near, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You paused, a hint of surprise flickering across your features as you registered his presence. "Hi?" Your response was tentative, laced with a hint of confusion. After a moment's hesitation, you glanced down at your clipboard, "I'm not changing my rank on your cabin. I know three is low, but I was being generous."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Luke's lips. He was all too familiar with the chaotic nature of Cabin Eleven, where overcrowding was the norm and taking turns on the sleeping bags was treated as a game. "No, no. I just..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing he hadn't thought through the purpose of seeking you out. "I think we need to talk."

The confusion in your expression mirrored his own, and for a moment, there was a palpable sense of uncertainty hanging between you. "Talk?" you echoed.

Luke nodded, his gaze meeting yours earnestly. "Yes."

"You want to talk...? To me?" 

"I hope it's not that bizzare."

He tried to smile for you, but it felt wrong. Luke couldn't shake the weight of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew all too well that he hadn't been the embodiment of an ideal soulmate. In his mind, there lingered a pervasive belief that you harboured nothing but hatred towards him, something that you made obvious with every interaction between you two.

He wondered if this was the way you felt during the days he avoided you. 

Luke had noticed the shift. There was a calculated recklessness to your actions, a deliberate disregard for your own well-being that bordered on self-destructive. You stubbed your toe on roots and table legs, tugged too hard at your hair, and scraped your knees. You started to pull your punches while sparring with Clarisse, just enough to ensure that he felt the sting of every blow. You never blocked a hit in the face, a twisted satisfaction in the knowledge that your pain mirrored his own. Together, you would limp into the infirmary, bloodied and bruised where you'd be grinning far too wide, barely offering an ounce of guilt when Luke held ice to his face.

You lowered the clipboard from your chest, letting it rest against your side as you faced Luke. The warm rays of the sun filtered through the dense foliage above, casting dappled shadows that danced across your features and forced you to squint against the brightness. The noise of children's laughter and the sound of feet pounding against the earth filled the air.

Your voice cut through the noise, "You've made it pretty clear that you want nothing to do with me, Luke," you began, your words carrying the weight of unspoken hurt. "You can't blame me for being surprised."

As you began to walk toward the next cabin, Luke fell into step beside you, "Can you just give me a chance—" 

"I think you're too late for that."

"I know, I just—" Luke's words faltered, his thoughts tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to articulate his feelings.

"I have nothing to say to you," you declared abruptly, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Luke skidded to a stop just in time, his gaze meeting yours as you regarded him with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Seriously. I understand, okay? Did I come on too strong? Maybe. Yeah, I'll admit that" you acknowledged, your expression softening slightly. "Maybe coming to you hours after your shit quest was stupid, but I gave you space when you asked—"

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your quest," Luke interrupted, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

With a quiet "Oh," you stepped back, your eyes momentarily averting his gaze. Were you embarrassed? Were you disappointed? Did you want to fight? 

"Sorry," you mumbled, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Thanks. I'm, uh, I'm seeing the Oracle after this. So... not technically a quest yet."

"It's your first one, right?" Luke's voice softened, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"If you're worried about getting another scar, don't worry, I doubt it's anything dangerous," you reassured him, though your words held a hint of hesitation. There was a fleeting moment where your gaze lingered on him as if expecting a sudden change in his demeanour, but Luke remained still, his expression unreadable. "I just need to find Eros and go from there."

"Eros?" Luke's pace slowed, curiosity dancing in his eyes as he raised his brows in interest. Yet beneath the surface, a seed of annoyance sprouted, tendrils of jealousy winding their way through his thoughts. Your quest sounded far more intriguing than his own, and a bitter brew of envy churned in the depths of his stomach. Despite his inner turmoil, he attempted to play it off with a forced chuckle. "Has Cupid gone missing?"

"Apparently," you muttered bitterly under your breath, the resentment palpable in your tone. Luke sensed the edge to your words, though he pretended not to notice.

You sighed, "Is this conversation going anywhere? I really need to finish these cabin checks. I'm busy enough as it is."

Your words held an unspoken plea for him to leave, and though Luke understood, a pang of disappointment nagged at him. He couldn't entirely blame you; after all, he'd been an ass for months.

Both of you hesitated just outside the door to cabin eight, and Luke could feel your eyes on him. When you began to step away, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. You froze, eyes wide with surprise.

“I also wanted to thank you,” He said, words rushing off his tongue.

“For what?” you asked.

“For last night.” He wasn't sure why he brought it up, why he felt like he needed you to know. "With Penelope."

"It was nothing," you said, voice barely audible. "We gotta look out for each other, right?"

Then, you left, you hurried up the short staircase to the cabin door, barely sparing him a glance before knocking. From his place, Luke could hear someone welcoming you into Artemis's cabin. He watched you until the door was shut behind you, vanishing you from his sight.

As the ceremony approached, the hues of twilight painted Camp Half-Blood in a golden glow, a serene yet foreboding atmosphere enveloping the surroundings. Luke's unease mounted with the setting sun, casting stretched-out shadows that seemed to carry something unnoticed. He couldn't shake the image of the figure from his nightmares, its monstrous visage haunting his thoughts with each passing moment. Yet, amidst the creeping darkness, there was an allure to the unknown, a temptation that beckoned him; its words, its promise of seeing the truth.

His gaze remained fixed on the white marble archway, half-expecting the nightmare to materialize at any moment, its twisted form emerging from the shadows with outstretched fingers. However, it was you who appeared, ascending the steps with graceful determination. Your presence seemed to dispel the shadows, bathing the surroundings in a radiant glow that eclipsed the fears that had once gripped Luke's heart. You were a blinding vice.

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

A sudden jab to his side sent him recoiling, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs. Luke winced, his gaze flickering to you as you flinched, subtly reaching for your own side. Quickly diverting his attention, he focused on the girl who had spoken.

Clarisse arched a brow at Luke, a smirk dancing on her lips. "Jumpy."

"Give him a break," Chris interjected, joining Luke's side and draping an arm over his shoulder. "Luke had a rough night, he lost a kid."

"Is that so?" Clarisse's grin widened. "And Chiron doesn't know? I'm assuming he doesn't otherwise, he wouldn't have picked you for this."

Luke scoffed and crossed his arms, "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Clarisse's sarcasm was palpable. "Oh, I don't doubt it. The most humble, too," she retorted, unfazed by his glare. "But let's face it, a search and rescue isn't exaclty your thing anymore. You're more of an action kind of guy. You live off the glory of victory. Chiron knows that."

She was right, Chiron did know that. Which was why he rarely requested Luke to stand in unless there was a catch. Then, the flames in the torches flickered to life, and silence enveloped the candidates. Each demigod chosen by Chiron swiftly took their place, standing tall and resolute by a marble pillar, eager to showcase themselves as the prime choice for the quest. Anything for Kleos. Anything for glory.

Chiron nodded, his gesture sharp and decisive, as he placed a firm hand on your shoulder before addressing the assembly. 

"The Oracle has confirmed that this quest is a search and rescue," he stated, casting a brief, confident glance in your direction. "One where you will use all your best efforts to bring Eros back to the safety of Mount Olympus and restore the lost balance. I'm sure you know where to find him." His gaze then shifted to the rest of the candidates. "Here, I have selected some of our most compelling candidates from which you will choose one to join you on your quest, ensuring your success. Annabeth Chase, Atticus Brang, Chris Rodrigues, Clarisse La-"

As Chiron listed the candidates, you carefully evaluated your options, your eyes calculating. In the dim torchlight, Luke could just discern the thin line etched across your face, stretching from the end of your brow to your-

"I choose Luke."

The ensuing silence felt like something they could all drown in, leaving everyone stunned. Even Annabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes as she spotted Luke's bewilderment. Surely, he must have misheard. There couldn't possibly be any way you had chosen him, could there?

Chiron turned to you, his tone measured. "Are you sure?"

You never shifted your gaze from Luke, who refused to meet your eyes as he stared fixedly at the pillar across from him. Yet, the clenching of his jaw, whether from anger or annoyance or something else, was enough to elicit a satisfied smile from you.

"I'm sure," you affirmed.

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[serpentface]

Armored war utosai and driver in a parade ~300 years before present, during the late 2nd Imperial Burri period.

The use of armor for cavalry utosai occurred fairly late in their ultimately brief (on the scale of a couple centuries) stint as mounts. The animals had natural armoring in the form of thick osteoderm covered skin along their back and sides, which was difficult to inflict injuries upon and sufficed for a long time against foes unfamiliar with/terrified by these animals. The skin on their faces and neck, however, was extremely sensitive. If heavily targeted, the pain could drive the utosai into a panic and turn them into gigantic liabilities. The implementation of this neck/face lamellar countered this weakness and partly restored the utosai's image of near-invulnerability, but came at its own costs.

Even this partial armoring was ridiculously expensive (for mounts whose basic upkeep was already ridiculously expensive) and did little to counter growing fears that the shock and awe usage of utosai for heavy cavalry was more trouble than it was worth. Utosai had previously been driven by use of leg pressure and spurs on their sensitive neck, which was very efficient at commanding the animals while keeping the driver's hands free (often to perform archery). With the neck covered in armor, new driving methods had to be implemented. This was a trial and error process, with the use of reins seen here coming up as the most adequate substitute for leg commands (at the cost of the driver being able to go hands-free). It still was nowhere as intuitive to the animals, and no better solution was developed before the use of utosai cavalry died out due to being absurdly costly to maintain, taking a long time to breed and mature (and being heavily inbred and unhealthy due to their tiny founder population), and the discovery of surefire methods to panic them (setting mid-large animals on fire and driving them, screaming, in a utosai's general direction turned out to have a near 100% success rate). The utosai population itself died out in the aftermath, and they are now completely extinct.

Driving a utosai was considered a lowly position compared to fighting Atop a utosai (same went for chariot drivers) and was generally occupied by members of the sub-citizen caste that developed in the 2nd imperial period. Once utosai armor was implemented, drivers completely ceased to participate in fighting and their only additional function was reduced to bearing their unit's standards, though they were usually armored in actual combat and carried heavy daggers that could be driven through the utosai's spine in case of 'uh oh we're trampling our own troops' type emergencies (the neck armor put a wrinkle in this whole procedure too- there is an opening behind the back of the head but it wasn't easy to target in the heat of the moment).

The small population of Utosai brought to Imperial Bur roamed semi-freely and usually had to be recaptured as calves and hand reared before use. This was also the job of their drivers, who did the bulk of the taming, training, and maintenance for their mounts. Utosai were Fairly unaggressive for large non-domesticated herbivores and accommodated astonishingly well to handling and training, but this was still dangerous work that routinely claimed the lives of their caretakers.

---

The guy shown here is a feasible depiction of the historical poet Ünzhig ([ynʐig]) when he was in his early 30s. He had a very complicated life, starting out as a Hsem princeling taken to Titenegal as a war captive along with his mother when he was just a toddler. He wound up lacking use as a hostage but was spared, semi-adopted by a senior military officer who had grown attached to him, put to work as a stableboy but given the education of a nobleman, and eventually ended up as a full-fledged utosai trainer and driver. He was active during the fall of the eastern overseas half of the empire, though he himself never traveled across the sea and was mostly dispatched along the state's northwestern flank.

Ünzhig, having fallen out with his adoptive semi-father and growing fearful after nearly being killed in a (dangerously close to successful) peasant revolt, eventually deserted and fled to Hsemdan in hopes of reclaiming his birthright. He was immediately met with failure in this respect (few believed him and his blood father's line was no longer in power anyway), but found work as a scribe and eventually made a name for himself as a poet in the Hsem courts. On top of his formal work, he spent his twilight years extensively chronicling his life and the history he bore witness to. Most of his actual writings are lost three centuries later, but some transcriptions are still around and preserve detailed and accurate information on the now-extinct utosai. A great love for these animals is evident in this body of work, which provides a rare down-to-earth look at creatures that are otherwise mostly remembered as godlike and monstrous.

His most well known poem was written in old age, describing the memory of the utosai he trained and rode and her first and only calf (recounting her fierce defensiveness and gentle contact calls, and expressing melancholy at his own childlessness). It was a hit in the Hsemdan court and started being reproduced in song form by the time of his death. Transcriptions of the original poem are hard to find but many oral transmissions survive (though have been heavily changed by the passage of time) in the form of lullabies.

(Sketch layer of what's going on under the armor)

[oh-no-its-bird]

Celebrating my 21'st birthday by posting an obnoxious amount of

Warring States Hatake OC things !

Continuing the warring states era Hatake oc train as I try to fill up all 21 slots for the clan !!! I honestly don't know if I'll make all 21, but I'd like to at least give them all names, just to make the world feel lived in. I might ask someone else to donate an oc or two in the future to guest star in the cast, idk

But anyways !!!! In a clan who loves to adopt, it stands to reason that they ofc have people among them who weren't born Hatake.

With that said: Pyromaniac explosion enthusiast Hatake who was a failed bloodline theft anyone ???

Both Sora and Tsuki are pretty fucking horrendous towards Tetsuo, but in large part it's Tsuki leading the charge. Sora follows his lead, as he's the first friend she made in the clan. They're honestly pretty close

Meanwhile: Sora remains the biggest Haruka fan ever. Being saved from the bloodline thief camp by the woman really cemented her in her mind as her hero.

After Sora lost her arm at 12 when playing with an explosion seal she'd explicitly been told not to play with, Tsuki proposed they learn to do hand signs together.

Sora would eventually be able to figure out how to do pull off a jutsu with only one hand, but it takes a long time to get there— and even when she is there, it still takes longer than if she had 2 hands. Working with Tsuki, they can both pull off just about any jutsu as fast as any one person can. Faster, even

Top ten images taken 5 seconds before disaster...

I was gonna draw 2 more pages for this, of the actual drowning attempt, but I got tired and wanted to post this today so you get a summary of what comes next instead. (Maybe I'll finish drawing it and post it separately another day)

Tsuki and Sora bullied Tetsuo pretty relentlessly till the boys were about 13, when Tsuki took things a step too far and basically tried to drown Tetsuo. Tetsuo fought back, beating both Tsuki and Sora's asses pretty soundly— and catching Haruka's attention in the process.

Seeing Tetsuo fend off the other two made up Haruka's mind, and she declared he'd be her new heir. Which he... didn't actually want to be. Oops!

Sora was pretty effectively scared out of bullying Tetsuo any further, and Tsuki mellowed out a good amount— though he remained mischievous, but that was pretty standard for him.

The blue tint of Tetsuo's skin would fade only some months later as he grew out of his Hoshigaki traits and into his Hatake blood. This also helped to lessen teasing from the other kids, along with the whole "he's the new clan heir now" thing.

Good for him.

The next day Tetsuo is super pissy and sleep deprived while Tsuki is suspiciously smug and well rested. On the bright side, Tetsuo has officially learned his lesson and will now refuse to let Tsuki ever give anyone anything he's drawn ominous spirals on.

As adults, Tetsuo and Tsuki are... fine, honestly. They're friends, in a way. Might even be counted as close— or as close as you can be, with Tsuki.

The fact that Tsuki got himself permanantly posessed by an Uzu spiral demon on that mission gone wrong in Wave doesn't make things as complicated than you'd think. Tetsuo seems to often land himself in the position of acting as Tsuki (and often times Sora's) handler.

I had a few more things I wanted to draw, but ran out of time. I'll probably just try and draw and post it later. No Sora piercing lore, Daisuke introduction post or full Tetsuo drowning comic for you!!! (Yet)

Umm final thoughts:

Tetsuo is doomed to forever be surrounded by maniacs

Early Konoha oc art pt. [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

[vonbabbitt]

i found the chiba loredrop i sent to my staff thirty years ago. enjoy

CHIBA!!!! so chiba was born in a pretty broke family as an only child. she was always a super peppy kid with a lot of energy and so she made friends pretty easily and generally had a good time. she got along with her dad but he wasnt super involved, mostly the type that sees child-rearing as a woman's job and left most of the work to chiba's mom while he did Guy Stuff like drink and watch tv and go to work and sometimes chat with his daughter! chibas mom was also very old-fashioned so she didnt mind because she had pretty much the same mindset! so she'd do the cooking and cleaning and raising chiba while her dad would just kinda go to work and hang around. they were mad broke. neither of her parents were SUPER affectionate towards her and her mom was a bit more focused with making sure she stayed out of trouble than making sure she was happy, so while she was allowed to go run around and be a kid, she wasnt really allowed to do anything that would get her super dirty or disturb her parents

when chiba was about four, her mom got this idea in her head that she would be a fantastic child actor (and it would also pull their family out of debt which would be great!) so she starts taking chiba to auditions and local theatre and trying to get her an agent and such and such. chibas not really into acting but she likes meeting all the new people and she likes playing pretend so she really doesnt mind! except soon the push for chiba to act starts working and she starts getting cast in stuff. shes cute and extroverted and energetic so of course shed be good in an instant noodle commercial or whatever tf. the point is that she starts getting work and starts appearing on tv! her family starts making a bit of money and her mom starts pushing HARD to get her into bigger roles. this means that she also starts getting a lot stricter. chiba gets pulled out of school because theres no time for school when she has to be on set. tutours only. her mom starts making sure she's always dressed well and her hair is always neat and shes always clean and tidy and most importantly, always smiling! because its cute and makes her look approachable and pleasant to work with!

so by the time chiba is six, the push is going well. shes getting minor roles in random shows here and there, usually as an extra or minor character, nothing super massive but its definitely something. shes honestly kind of over the whole thing by now though. she misses being at school and seeing her friends. she misses getting to go out and play whenever she wants. she does not really like acting! but money is coming in fast and offers are coming in fast and her mom is not ready to lose the good life quite yet. her dad doesnt really notice or care cuz hes not that involved. but chiba is starting to burn out and its starting to show in her performance. her mom does basically everything she can think of - shes taking her to extra acting classes, shes trying to bribe her with toys and gifts, shes scolding her for not being upbeat enough - nothing is really working for her, sooooooo

at age seven, chibas mom puts her on caffeine pills! its fine cuz theyre only caffeine its not like its meth or anything.......is chibas moms defence. but chiba starts taking caffeine pills to boost her performance and now shes back in action. shes usually pretty exhausted but the important part is that shes awake and shes peppy and shes acting. huzzah!

so chiba is getting more and more popular and shes ending up on a lot of TV shows, usually shows aimed at other kids, which she thinks is neat because its almost like shes talking to other kids again but not really but still! so shes doing a lot of television and her family is making BIG money now. they move to a very nice place in kyoto on chiba's dime and from there her career is allowed to REALLY skyrocket because shes basically living in the media capitol now. shes on set constantly, her face is everywhere and shes hustling hard. its around age nine that chiba starts getting a bit bigger (because. yknow, age) and her mom does not love that. if chibas entire appeal is that shes a little angel baby girl, how can she get bigger? shes gotta stay small! so this is where chibas mom has a super brilliant idea: chiba should start smoking! nicotine is an appetite suppressant and chiba needs to keep thin, so smoking it is! chiba ABSOLUTELY FUCKING HATES IT, which she expresses, but then her mom cries and starts going on about how horrible of a mother she is and chiba feels bad so THE SMOKING BEGINS.

when chiba gets to be about twelve, her career is in full swing and shes picked up her first regular sitcom role as a lead, which is huge news. her family is ROLLING in money now and theres no way theyre ever going to give that up so shes basically locked into the industry for life. the only problem is that......shes twelve! so now puberty begins! chiba realizes her body is starting to change and FLIPS THE FUCK OUT BECAUSE SHE NEEDS TO LOOK LIKE A KID FOREVER THATS HER ENTIRE APPEAL IN THE INDUSTRY. sooooooo

chiba starts taking diet pills! now on a steady diet of diet pills, caffeine and cigarettes, you can probably imagine that chibas doing just fkin fantastic! shes a good actor of course, so very little of this ever goes noticed by anyone, because she does a very good job of appearing cheerful and peppy and healthy! but the fact is that shes horribly, HORRIBLY malnourished and exhausted and suffering from a lot of physical and mental health problems. however, shes making a LOT of money, so her mom just keeps encouraging her to keep going and telling her how happy their family is now that they have money and crying every time chiba talks about wanting to quit until chiba feels guilty and backs down. huzzah!

chiba is basically dead inside by this point. she just feels empty and sad and hungry all the time. this is when she starts realizing that the world she gets to live in on her sitcom - happy mom, happy dad, two big brothers who love her, funny plots and family love and yadda yadda - is a lot more appealing than her actual life! so if she could just be that character in that world forever, wouldnt that be awesome? so thats basically what she does! chiba starts just kinda playing pretend all the time. shes a little girl! life is good as a little girl! shes happy as a little girl! nothing bad or scary ever happens to her on tv, so if she can be that person from tv, nothing bad or scary will ever happen to her in real life either! all those insecurities she has about her body? her huge huge fear of ever appearing adult or being looked at in an adult way? no problem! shes a little girl!

+5 years and then shes in the killing game

[lunarriviera]

I'm watching Guardian right now but the god awful CGI is making me laugh during serious moments. help.

legit reaction tho, almost all the CGI is truly hilaribad, especially during the first few episodes (that whole water demon/spirit thing? wow. just…wow) (and chu shuzhi's puppet ksdhfksfd whyyyyyyy)

BUT. here's the thing about guardian: 1) try to think of its kitsch as a feature, not a bug. just go with it, lean fully into all of the cringe. shen wei's dorkiness. dixingren being meteor-mutated aliens imprisoned underground. snake lady. talking cat. zhao yunlan's terrible hair (that at least will change). just EMBRACE it. that way when the very sharp knives suddenly come out and start flashing, in classic cdrama style, you will be completely taken aback and gasp in shock, and, not long thereafter, begin to weep and not stop until 3 days after you've seen the last episode. because, if you truly accept the initial lunacy of guardian, eventually it WILL gut you like a wriggling fish.

also 2) it's much easier to accept the rocky production values if you make mental allowances for how the company went utterly bankrupt midway through filming; the only reason guardian ever got finished AT ALL was that the cast and crew basically decided to work for free on an insanely accelerated schedule, during which all the actors are having to wear their own clothes. (fortunately for zhu yilong he had kept a bunch of pieces from modeling shoots, so he's able to fabricate some kind of more or less consistent Look for shen wei—like the painted-on blue suit with its inexplicable ass chain. mad drip.)

like. everyone knows this already so i'm sure you do too but there's a reason they have one (1) good piece of music (the opening song) and that's about it: they just flat ran out of money. this had some good results (we never have to see chu-ge's puppet again) and some not so great ones (i won't spoil you but let's just say it involves internal organs). ultimately, guardian only knows how to do three things but it does those superbly well: a) zhu yilong and bai yu staring at each other with ravenous desperation, like they're gonna die if they can't breathe the same air forever, b) a time-loop script that really comes through in the back half, and c) related to both of these, an ending that WILL make you throw objects around your home and then immediately read the novel/a bunch of fanfic. the good news is it's an amazing novel (though very different) and the fanfic is sine qua non. (also you get two ships for the price of one so don't sleep on chuguo.)

these are my 7 am thoughts on guardian. i wasn't sold on it at all until about a third of the way through but by then i was clutching it to my face sobbing and begging it to never end. guardian is weird like that—either you're gonna fall for it so hard it will change your entire media life (the way btvs or x-files did for fans in the 1990s) or you'll wind up dropping it. which is fine! for brilliant cgi you can watch like, idk. the expanse or something. (and fwiw i laugh at serious moments ALL THE TIME, my film students really hate it. i feel like it's a gen x coping strategy but they're alpha and very Earnest and Sincere.)

tldr watch guardian at least until you get to the kitchen scene before you decide. then you'll know if it's right for you. love you madly!! <3

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt.2 - january 5 2025

pt.1 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10

wordcount: 1810

The door of the ski lodge burst open, making you look up from your drink. Max appeared, the rest of the group having found Lando and you, waving and dragging his snowboard behind him, with Dylan close on his heels. Flo and Cisca followed.

“Absolute perfection out there,” Max declared, his grin as wide as the horizon. He dropped into the chair across from you and immediately launched into a story about his wipeout. Dylan followed, unstrapping his boots with practiced ease.

“Max, you forgot to mention the part where I saved your ass after you faceplanted.”

“Details,” Max said with a dismissive wave before turning to Lando. “Hey, Lan, you know what I’ve been thinking? Quadrant should sponsor Dylan.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Why not?” Max said, gesturing toward Dylan. “He’s Red Bull-sponsored already, and he’s basically a legend. Plus, Dylan would kill it in the merch.”

Dylan laughed, shaking his head. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m not exactly esports material, and I think Lando’s got the whole ‘speed’ thing covered.”

Lando leaned back in his chair, considering. “It’s not a bad idea. Could bring a new vibe to the team, snowboarding isn’t racing.” 

“Exactly!” Max exclaimed, clearly pleased with himself.

The conversation drifted as the group packed up their stuff and made their way back to the lodge. You watched Dylan joking with Cisca, Cisca had dragged Dylan into a conversation about snowboarding tricks and she was clustered to his lips, he was laughing as he sketched a move with his hands.“You’ve got to teach me that,” she said, eyes wide with excitement. “Anytime” Dylan said with a grin. his easy charm blending seamlessly with the group, and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection for him. 

Later, back at the lodge, Magui arrived, her presence lighting up the room. Lando was quick to meet her by the doorway, pulling her into a easy kiss before taking her coat. They looked perfect together, the F1 driver and the model—a picture straight out of a magazine. Their reunion was quiet and easy, as though they were used to these quick and fleeting moments together. This time she was also only staying for a few days.

You turned back to the kitchen, focusing on the mugs of hot chocolate you were preparing. Dylan leaned in the door opening, watching you with a soft smile.

“Should I take over?” he asked. “You’ve been hostess of the year this trip.”

You laughed, handing him a steaming mug. “I think I’ve got it under control. Go mingle.”

He gave you a mock salute and wandered back to join the others

You busied yourself setting the table for dinner, Lando helping. 

Dinner was a lively affair, with Max recounting his earlier escapades and Cisca chiming in with sarcastic commentary. Magui's laugh ringing out at all the right moments, but mostly at Lando’s stories, which were less frequent since they were having quiet conversations with the two of them, keeping to themselves, her hand resting on Lando’s arm as if it belonged there.

As the evening wore on, the group moved from dinner to games and then to music and dancing. The wine flowed freely, laughter and warmth filling the lodge. By the time the night wound down, most of the group was sprawled across the couches and floor, drowsy but content.

You found yourself beside Lando on the couch, the fire casting a warm glow over the room. He leaned against the armrest, his half-empty glass of wine dangling from his fingers. His gaze was fixed on the flickering flames.

“You okay?” you asked softly, tucking your feet beneath you.

Lando turned to you, his usual smirk replaced with something quieter. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous territory for you,” you teased, nudging his shoulder.

He huffed a laugh. “You’re hilarious.”

You sat in comfortable silence for a moment before he spoke again, his voice quieter. “Do you ever feel like… like you’re just going through the motions?” Lando asked suddenly, his voice low. “Like you’re living the life everyone expects you to, but it’s not really yours?”

You blinked confused, caught off guard by his sudden unexpected choice of subject. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, swirling the wine in his glass. “Magui’s great. She is. But sometimes I wonder if we’re together because we want to be or because it just… fits the narrative. F1 driver and model. Picture-perfect.”

You didn’t respond immediately, sensing he needed to say more.

“You and Dylan…” Lando continued, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “You guys are so natural. You actually know each other, and it works. It’s real. I want that. Something real.”

“Lando…” you started, unsure of what to say. “You’ll have that too. You’ve never even wanted that yet—focusing on racing, and look where that’s brought you.”

“You know what, Fewtrell? You’ve got it good with Dylan. That’s what I want. Someone who actually gets me. Not just someone who… looks good on my arm.” Lando repeated himself. 

“You’re drunk, Lan.” you concluded.

“No, I mean it. F1 relationships… they’re all the same. Shallow. Temporary. But you and Dylan… that’s real. I want that.”

You sensed he wasn't going to give it a break. You gave a short laugh, shaking your head. “Lando, you haven’t even been looking for something real.” you also repeated yourself, hoping he would hear it now.

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been focused on winning races and kissing other girls in clubs,” you shot back, tone light but edged with meaning. “You don’t get to complain about not having something real when you’ve never made room for it.”

Lando winced, the guilt flashing across his face. You know you should judge him for it—anyone else, and you probably would have. But you also knew his world was different. A life on the road, racing nearly every weekend, with a level of attention and temptation most people couldn’t imagine.

You softened slightly. “Look, I know it’s hard. F1 relationships aren’t exactly a blueprint for stability. You barely see each other because you’re always traveling, and there are... distractions. But if you really want something real, it’s not going to fall into your lap. You’ve got to make space for it.”

“How do you know I haven’t?” he said defensively, though the edge in his voice was weaker now.

“Because I know you,”

His shoulders sagged, and the guilt returned, more evident this time. “Okay. Maybe I haven’t. But I want it now,” he said, quieter, almost like a confession.

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh, so now you’ve decided you want it all?”

He frowned slightly, unsure where you were going with this.

“You know, the McLaren constructor’s championship, driver’s world champion…” You gestured vaguely, your tone laced with playful sarcasm. “You can’t have everything, Lando. Life doesn’t work that way.’’ 

Lando leaned his head back against the couch, his gaze flickering to you. “You’re probably right.”

“Of course, I’m always right,” you said, sticking out your tongue, having had enough of this serious conversation this late at night, sleepiness taking over. 

He glanced at you, a faint smirk forming. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

— London, november 14 2015

At sixteen year old, it had felt like a disaster. Not in a catastrophic way—nothing earth-shattering had gone wrong—but in a teenage life it was one of the worst things. Her first time with her then-boyfriend, a sweet enough guy who she thought had cared. She’d expected… something. Fireworks, a sense of closeness, maybe even just a feeling of satisfaction. But all she’d been left with was disappointment  and a desperate need to shake it off.

When Max hadn’t answered her texts, she’d turned to the one other person who always seemed to know what to say—or at least how to distract her.

Lando had shown up within ten minutes of her cryptic “What are you doing right now?” text, a bag of chips in one hand and a pack of her favorite chocolate in the other.

“Alright,” he’d said, flopping onto the couch beside her. “What’s up? Max is out of commission?”

She hadn’t meant to tell him. She’d thought maybe they’d just watch a movie or play a game so she’d feel distracted. But the words had spilled out before she could stop them.

“It sucked Lan,” she admitted, her voice cracking between a laugh and a cry. “I thought it would be… I don’t know. Better.”

Lando blinked, clearly trying to process what she’d just said. “Wait, are you saying—”

“Yes,” she interrupted, burying her face in her hands. “And don’t make it weird, okay?”

“I’m not making it weird,” he protested, though his tone was slightly higher than usual. “I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, his expression a mix of surprise and something she couldn’t quite place. “What, you didn’t think I’d ever have sex?”

“No, I mean—yeah, obviously, you would. I just didn’t think…” He trailed off, ruffling his hair awkwardly. “Never mind. What happened?”

And so she told him. About the awkward pauses, the fumbling, the little to no attention for her, and the overwhelming sense that something was missing.

“It’s not supposed to feel like that, right?” she asked, her voice small.

Lando had been quiet for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t think there’s a ‘supposed to.’ It’s different for everyone, but… yeah, it probably shouldn’t feel like that. You want me to go beat him up? I’m not that big, but I’m scrappy.”

She huffed a laugh, leaning back against the couch. “Great. Glad to know I’m just unlucky, then.”

“Hey,” he said, nudging her with his shoulder. “It’s definitely not you. Sometimes it’s just… the wrong person. Or the wrong timing. Or both.”

“Thanks, Dr. Norris,” she teased, but her smile was genuine.

They’d spent the rest of the night watching the movie and talking about everything and nothing. By the time he got up to leave, the heaviness in her chest had lifted, replaced by a warm sense of gratitude.

As he slipped on his jacket, he turned to her, a familiar smirk tugging at his lips. “Can’t believe the first time your first time isn’t with me, it doesn’t work out. Mistakes, Fewtrell.”

She rolled her eyes, groaning. “Oh my god, Lando.”

“No, seriously,” he continued, winking as he opened the door. “We could have had an actual good first time, you know. Just saying, everything’s better with me.”

“Get out,” she said, throwing a pillow at him as he laughed and ducked out of the room.

But even as the door clicked shut behind him, she found herself smiling, shaking her head at his ridiculousness. Only Lando could turn a moment like that into something lighthearted without dismissing how she felt. 

—

WN: Hi guys!! Thanks so much for reading!! Hope you like it! Let me know what you think, not my favorite chapter.... but bear with me please!! I'm open for all suggestions and feedback! Posting part 3 tomorrow!

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05