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jeonstellate · 11 days ago

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the ghost of legacy

a legacy joins the paddock for the season — and oscar is the only one not keen on befriending her.

๑彡 oscar piastri x fem!räikkönen!reader

๑彡 brief mentions of weight, sainz-leclerc divorce, & wound; depictions of insecurity, grid chaos, & confusion/denial

๑彡 paragraph format — 4.1K words

masterlist

[pic’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 direct sequel to the ghost of monza!

๑彡 all italian & spanish words in this are from google! yn is kimi räikkönen’s daughter, but there are no physical descriptions mentioned.

๑彡 remember how i mentioned that tgom might be my first & only f1 fic? well . . . i’ve been persuaded otherwise :D i have some regrets about this, so i’d appreciate it a lot if y’all can share some feedback <3

The dawn of a season carries fresh, untainted hope. It brings a clean slate in most things — and in everything that matters. It resets the clock back at zero, and draws a mint coat for the starting line. It opens a new book with blank pages, awaiting fresh ink to flow and fill it with something worth remembering.

As poetic as those sound, Oscar can’t care any less. A new season’s a new season, meaning — for the most part — another chance at winning either championships.

For the remaining part? It means coming back to Monza, A-K-A where he met [first name] for three years in a row.

The Italian Grand Prix is still a lifetime away, but there are already moments where he finds himself wondering if she’ll still drop by and ask about Fernando’s whereabouts this season as well. With three consecutive years under their belts, it kind of feels like a tradition by this point. It’ll be too much of a shame if they break it so close to the fifth anniversary.

Honestly, he’s a little tempted to ask the older driver about his niece, but he’s also a little scared of what the other might do if he shows interest. Fernando looks like he’ll slash his tires as a form of intimidation. He doesn’t seem to be above purposely making contact during a race to prove a point, either.

It’s not like he can cut the middle man altogether. He only got her first name. There are a lot of [first name]s in existence. An Instagram search won’t cut it, especially if her profile picture isn’t of herself. A browser search will be just as impossible, if not even more so.

Oscar lets out a sigh without realizing. Is it better, after all, to let the universe decide if they should continue their little tradition?

"It’s not that bad," he hears Lando say next to him. They’re currently in the general hospitality, with a tray of free food they were promised for attending the pre-season ‘grid bonding’ and meetings. As the hospitality doesn’t open until the season officially starts, it’s just everyone in the paddock — the drivers and the crews — occupying the floors.

He looks at his teammate for that, silently hoping he’ll get a clue on what he’s talking about, because he has absolutely no idea what conversation topic they’re currently on. He didn’t mean to zone out but, alas, it’s just so easy to.

He decides to take a shot in the dark, after a moment of not perceiving any clues. He assumes — based on nothing — that he’s talking about the food. "The presentation might be intentionally deceiving."

Lando isn’t impressed. "You just need to gaslight yourself and think it’s good, if that’s really the case."

"No need! It’s actually good!" Pierre interrupts from one of the full six-seater tables. "Try the soup!"

Oscar isn’t really sure if he trusts Pierre’s tastebuds but he thanks him, anyway.

He guides Lando to sit at the eight-seater table next to Pierre’s group, albeit intentionally at the further side so he doesn’t feel pressured to socialize in the beginning of his lunch. He sits on the second seat from the edge, diagonally from the laptop he’s assuming someone forgot to take with them. Lando sits directly across him.

They eat in silence. Normally, one of them initiates a conversation over food. Today, though, Oscar lets his teammate clear his tray without a word. The other had — wisely and questionably — foregone eating breakfast to make the promised buffet worth his while.

He munches on his lunch thoughtfully, uninterested in taking advantage of the free buffet to the fullest. He — as the rest of the grid — has to watch his weight this close to the first race of the season, anyway, to avoid the risk of jeopardizing the car’s speed. He’s not really a fan of intensifying his gym workouts to burn extra calories if he eats way past his normal fill, either.

He zones out while looking directly at the stickers on the laptop cover. He’s not completely foreign to such practice, since his own sisters have decorated their personal laptops with a collection of stickers. As such, he knows how the stickers and their placements essentially show a portion of the laptop owner’s personality and interests.

Deciphering the laptop owner’s interests proves to be a good ‘during lunch’ activity. It doesn’t require a lot of thinking since most of them are pretty straightforward. Some are definitely out of context. The rest are completely obscure to him, which he doesn’t think too deeply about.

Then there’s a selected few that Oscar feels he should know, like the W resembling a fire and the RKN, but is currently blanking on.

The third general hospitality floor, by some coincidence or another, houses all drivers — reserved or otherwise — for lunch. They aren’t the only people on it, as there as also crew members scattered around, but it’s a bit impressive that the entire grid chose to settle on the same floor. Perhaps it’s an (un)intentional consequence of the grid bonding they’re forced to participate in.

Oscar gains more tablemates halfway through his first plate when Ollie and Kimi sit on the edge closest to Pierre’s group. He gains a seatmate when Alex sits next to him and George appears next to Lando.

There’s some sort of harmony in the chaos of overlapping conversations. Even more so when the tables talk to each other without bothering to get up.

Oscar thinks the chaos already peaked when the British and French drivers started defending their respective cuisines from the other’s attacks. Unfortunately, he’s eventually proven wrong when someone makes a deal out of someone else’s entrance to the floor.

"—laptop on a table," he hears a voice say. He can’t see whoever it is, though, since they’re blocked from his view by another.

"Go grab it first then I’ll introduce you to our drivers." The person blocking his view — someone from Williams, judging from the team uniform — moves slightly, allowing him to finally catch a glimpse of the other.

He sees the same Williams polo shirt first. Then— the matrix must’ve glitched.

He doesn’t remember blinking nor zoning out, but the next second he comprehends has [first name] diagonal from him across the table.

It feels wrong — and he isn’t quite sure what ‘it’ is. It is the fact that they’re currently worlds away from Monza? Or the fact that she’s wearing nothing that can get her mistaken as a tifoso?

[First name] gives him a wordless nod of recognition before excusing herself to the rest of the table, her laptop tucked between her arm and side.

"Osc, do you know her?" Someone in front whispers to him. He can’t be bothered to identify which gridmate, though, much less give them a reply. After all, his attention has stuck to [first name] like a moth to a flame.

Oscar has no shame about blatantly listening in on a conversation he obviously isn’t a part of.

"Alex, Carlos, this is our engineering intern for this year," the Williams crew member introduces the three. "She’ll be shadowing your race engineers alternatively."

"I’m Alex Albon, car twenty-three." He watches Alex as the latter holds a hand out for a handshake. "Welcome to team Williams."

[First name] takes his hand, "A pleasure."

Carlos reacts late, so it’s almost as if he’s hesitant to introduce himself. "Carlos Sainz, car fifty-five." Unlike his teammate, he doesn’t offer his hand for a shake. He just nods his head once — which she then returns with the same energy. "I see I got custody of you in the divorce."

[First name] lets out a laugh that doesn’t even reach Oscar’s ears. "[First name] Räikkönen — a child of the Sainz-Leclerc divorce, apparently."

Räikkönen?

Kimi Räikkönen?

Oscar must admit, despite understanding that her father is a former Formula One driver since last year, this revelation is still surprising. It isn’t unexpected, as Kimi Räikkönen was one of his top suspects then, but shock is definitely still there.

Probably because he now has an irrefutable evidence that the ghost of Monza is actually an F1 champion’s daughter.

And because there’s also a small part of him that feels embarrassed for not realizing right away. After all, [first name] wears her father’s number proudly — and her favored RKN logo is close enough to his RKKNN. Quite literally, the answer has been right in front of him this entire time.

"Räikkönen? Like Kimi Räikkönen?" Alex echoes his thoughts unknowingly. "That’s so cool."

"Exactly like Kimi Räikkönen," she replies good naturally. "He’s the one who passed it onto me."

The younger Williams driver is handling the revelation better than he is, as far as he can tell. But maybe that’s because Alex didn’t spend a good year thinking she’s a ghost. "No way."

"Yeah, [first name]," Charles pipes up from his seat at Pierre’s table. "No way you broke the Ferrari alliance!"

[First name] looks over to the side to meet Charles’ eyes. "There is no such thing."

"There is so!"

She doesn’t give the Monégasque the satisfaction of responding. Instead, she just returns her attention to the Williams drivers. "I look forward to working with you, Mr. Albon, Carlos."

She gives them a smile so genuine, the media would’ve scrambled to capture it — partly in disbelief that a Räikkönen could smile like so.

And, for a brief moment, Oscar could’ve sworn [first name]’s smile widens a little when their eyes meet.

(Un)fortunately, she’s gone before he can think too much about it.

The paddock stayed the same with [first name] Räikkönen around, more or less. ‘More’ because the fight for the title is still as cutthroat as the last with new rivalries, without necessarily interfering with the civility between them drivers. ‘Less’ because her presence has caused some drivers to gravitate towards her — unintentionally orbiting her every chance they get.

Fernando is a given. As are Charles and Carlos, based on their already-founded closeness in the hospitality. Alex follows soon after. Then Max.

That’s not an exhaustive list. If it had been, most of the grid would’ve been name-dropped, for sure. Maybe even have all— except one. Oscar.

Oscar doesn’t feel deserving of being [first name]’s friend, for a reason he can’t really put into words. [First name] is . . . [first name]. And he’s . . . just Oscar.

He doesn’t ignore her, of course, nor does he pretend she isn’t there when they cross paths. He just doesn’t go out of his way to be closer than acquaintances and gain her favor. He exchanges brief ‘hello’s with her whenever they meet going opposite ways. He returns her nods and waves of acknowledgment from across rooms, and has initiated them on occasion whenever he spots her first.

He doesn’t take detours to drop her off to her destination. He doesn’t sit with her whenever she’s alone, either. Because then, it’ll be a quiet kind of friendship — and he can’t be her friend.

He’s just her acquaintance, at best, and he’s content with that.

After all, [first name] has more than enough new friends. She doesn’t need him — his friendship, that is.

For her part, she seems to respect the invisible line he has drawn between them. Almost as if she can see it as well as he does.

But, perhaps, it isn’t actually as defined for her. For she has no qualms about crashing his pity party on a sidewalk.

"Are you lactose intolerant?" [First name] appears in front of him seemingly out of nowhere.

Oscar takes a second to process what just happened. Even then, he’s still not sure if he’s understanding correctly. ". . . No?"

She nods, almost approvingly, before handing him a paper bag. "Here."

"What’s—" He starts before she can commence her regular habit of disappearing.

[First name], who is already steps away from him, turns back to face him once more. "My dad says it makes everything feel better."

He lets her go after that, albeit her response just made him even more confused.

When he finally opens the paper bag, Oscar finds a spoon, a bottle of water, and a sealed half-pint of gelato in his favorite flavor.

Something in his chest stirs.

The general hospitality is set to house the entirety of the grid drivers for the nth time this season. Another drivers’ meeting is scheduled to start in thirty minutes, and — in true fashion — less than half have made their way up to the room.

By the time Oscar shows up with a pack of others he met on the way, majority of the rookies are already there. Punctuality has obviously not been drained — or, at the very least, influenced — out of their systems.

"George!" Kimi calls for his teammate’s attention as soon as he spots him amongst the crowd that’s barely entering. "Can we adopt [first name]?"

George’s confusion is evident in his stance. Behind him, Oscar needs to stifle an amused laugh. "What?"

"She sang the Italian national anthem for me!" In all honesty, he isn’t following the Italian rookie’s logic. Thankfully, he isn’t the one who needs to respond. "She can also speak Italian!"

He enjoys the view of the older Mercedes driver buffering for an answer from the seat he secured next to Carlos. Even more so when the younger one of the duo pulls out a pleading look with his "please."

He doesn’t know how he found the strength to, but George eventually replies with a non-answer. "You should probably ask Toto about that, Kimi."

"No! [First name]’s ours!" Alex disproves, protectively. "Get your own [first name]!"

"She was ours first!" Charles joins in. The Monégasque likes reminding people she’s a tifoso first, before anything else, during moments like these. He hasn’t quite moved on from the fact that she chose to intern at Williams rather than Ferrari. "Why do you think she knows the Italian national anthem by heart!"

Lewis lets him do all the talking, as Carlos does with Alex. Both seem to have — wisely — figured out [first name] will put a stop to it soon enough, with or without their varied inputs.

And, sure enough indeed, a high pitched sound comes from the speakers built around the room — which instinctively makes everyone cover their ears.

"Princesa!" Oscar can somewhat hear Fernando scold somewhere behind him. "Stop—"

Thankfully, the sound stops within three seconds — and before they actually have to plead for their hearing.

Ever the nonchalant, [first name] merely scans the crowd of betrayed and confused looks before nodding to herself, "Good." It is then that he realizes she used the feedback to silence the room, with the least energy wasted possible.

He knows there’s a chance that might’ve just sent the room into more chaos. After all, they might all be grown up, but they can also a bunch of children sometimes. It was a fair gamble and yet, somehow, she looks like she was completely certain.

He salutes her for that; for having confidence and conviction on par with that of a Formula One driver.

"You’re our race engineer intern, no?" Carlos inquires before expressing his thanks for the printed meeting agenda she handed him and Alex. "Why are you the one doing all of this?"

She shrugs, "Still an intern."

"Do we get one, too?" Esteban asks for the majority somewhere to his left. It’s a fair question, drivers’ meetings don’t usually have the agenda printed out. It’s usually kept hidden from them, to avoid getting them antsy or, worse, letting them organize their protests.

[First name] points to the Williams logo on her uniform. "I’m only required to make Carlos’ and Alex’s lives a little easier."

They find a stack of meeting agenda copies by the front of the room a minute after she disappears. A sticky note on top reads, don’t pass out if they start fighting.

(She becomes their instant favorite to set up meeting rooms. Unfortunately, the FIA has forbidden Williams to let her facilitate their next turn for the same reason.)

The drivers’ rooms are the most private areas in the paddock. It’s where drivers leave their belongings while they’re out and about. It’s where their visitors usually stay to keep out of the crew’s way until the race. It’s where they sneak in a snooze when they don’t get enough sleep from the night before.

However, despite that, the drivers’ rooms can’t be locked from the outside. The McLaren ones, at least, for the time being while their PIN code lock is being updated.

No one knows about the update except for him and Lando, but he still made sure to stash his belongings inside the lockers instead of leaving them lying around just in case. He has faith and trust in the crew, of course, as he has worked with the majority of them for years, but the garage is also an open space. Someone with malicious intent can easily slip in, unnoticed.

In hindsight, it makes the most sense for someone to slip in when either he or Lando wins a race since the garage will be mostly empty then. Thus, a small part of him isn’t surprised to discover that his driver’s room isn’t exactly the way he left it before leaving for the race he ultimately won.

Nothing is taken, thankfully, and the only thing out of place is the sealed half-pint of gelato on the table — which has a spoon tied on it by a familiar handcrafted OP81 bracelet.

[First name]’s.

There’s no meaning behind her very apparent attachment to it. At least, not in a way that is connected to him personally. For all he knows, she only refuses to stop wearing the bracelet — even at the behest of drivers close to her — because of the young fan that handed it to her.

"You don’t have to keep wearing it."

"I want to."

However, nevertheless, seeing the bracelet with his initials and number around her wrist always spark the same unvoiced feeling in his stomach — the one that grew from what stirred in his chest then.

And, somehow, knowing that she intentionally left her prized OP81 fan-made merch behind almost feels like a concession. Like she’s leaving him behind.

That’s an irrational jump in reasoning. After all, they’re not even friends. He knows that — but, apparently, the rest of his body doesn’t. He can easily blame his heightened emotions and illogicality on the adrenaline that hasn’t completely left his body, but that doesn’t make it any less real.

For a reason he is yet to understand, he’s wholeheartedly convinced [first name] isn’t just letting the bracelet go. She’s letting him go, too. And that thought, however illogically sound, doesn’t sit well in his stomach.

He can’t accept the bracelet with the plausible implication it carries. He can’t accept her concession. He doesn’t want to— He doesn’t want her to give up on him.

(He understands nothing. They’re not even friends.)

Thus, like a man with no time to lose and everything in line, Oscar takes off running before he can even comprehend where his feet are taking him.

"[First name]," he calls in relief when he sees her exit the Williams motorhome the same moment he arrives. His voice comes out a little breathless, a little winded from the impromptu run he did around the paddock post-race. He doesn’t care.

"Oscar," she turns with his name on her lips. Her shock is only evident in her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"To return your bracelet," he admits, "and to thank you for the congratulatory gift."

She makes a sound of acknowledgement as the shock filters out of her eyes. "You’re welcome. You can keep the bracelet."

Her words sting, like alcohol is poured over an open wound.

(Ridiculous. They’re not even friends.)

"I don’t want it." He says abruptly, instantly regretting the words the moment they’re out of his mouth. "I mean— the bracelet looks better on you."

"I don’t really like orange."

Oscar swallows down the instinct to correct. Protecting the McLaren papaya pride is the least of his worries at the moment. "It goes well with Williams blue—" there’s a hint of desperation in his voice now. He finds it difficult to swallow— "and Ferrari red."

[First name]’s silence stretches. He begins to wonder if she’s back into being a mere hallucination; if he didn’t actually catch her on time and she’s bound to disappear in front of him any second.

He unconsciously holds his breath, anticipatory and unblinking. Praying, almost.

(They’re not friends.)

Then, finally, the silence breaks with her laugh sounding like scoff. She walks towards him with amusement dancing almost unnoticeably in her features. "Okay."

Oscar exhales in relief. He slots the bracelet back around her wrist with a silent promise even he is yet know.

(They’re not friends.)

The season calendar ultimately reaches the Italian Grand Prix, as it does every year.

Oscar, for someone who had been looking forward to it before the new season even started, has forgotten about it as soon as the new season actually began. In his defense, his plate filled at an alarming rate, especially with McLaren’s steel determination to become this year’s World Constructors’ Champion as well. It doesn’t help that he’s already seeing his only reason every weekend, either.

Well, ‘only reason’ might be a little too vague. [First name] is certainly part of that reason, but a big part of it is the tradition they unknowingly made. At least, that’s what he’d like to think, anyway.

Even if it no longer rings true, especially since . . . then.

They’re much closer since, having erased the invisible line between acquaintanceship and friendship. They still do everything they used to do, but now they aren’t limited to just those. They occasionally take detours now. And sit together, when they happen to take a break at the same hour. They hide together, too, when they crave the quietness of being away from everyone else.

Yet, despite the undeniable spike in their time spent together, their tradition at Monza has never been brought up. Not even in reminiscence.

As such, any thoughts about their tradition only lied dormant until the day of. More specifically, when Oscar finally finds himself sitting idle in the McLaren motorhome with a view identical to where he had seen her appear for the last two years.

It’s a bit too late to phone her to drop by just for the unspoken tradition’s sake. So, alas, all he can do now is will the universe to bring her to the McLaren motorhome for any reason it can think of.

Oscar lets himself wallow. He figures it’s better for him to do it now, since his brain refuses to let him think of anything else. He can’t risk jeopardizing his team like that, in case his compartmentalizing ability decides to fail him later.

"What are you doing?" A familiar voice pulls him back to reality. He focuses back to comprehend [first name] standing just outside of his personal bubble, clad in her Räikkönen tifoso gear. He almost forgot how she looks in them, having gotten used to seeing her in Williams colors for the past several months.

He spots the OP81 bracelet resting on her wrist. Its black and papaya theme compliments her red and white tifoso outfit.

A small smile forms at the corners of his mouth. "Waiting for you."

She tilts her head slightly in confusion, but doesn’t question him. "Sure."

He decides not to alleviate her confusion. He just starts walking towards the door, completely trusting she’ll follow him out. He gestures for her to exit first. "Fernando should be in the Aston Martin garage at this hour."

She obliges. "I know." Unlike the previous year where she actively fought to not walk next to him, she doesn’t even bat an eye when he claims one of her sides as they make their way to the Aston Martin area. "I’ve always known after our first meeting, actually."

Oscar can’t quite believe his ears. "Seriously?" [First name] affirms. He suddenly begins to question their exchanges during his first two years in McLaren, skimming through vague memories for clues. "Then why—"

"I needed an excuse," she shrugs nonchalantly. Acting as if she isn’t singlehandedly rewriting the way he views their little tradition. "I had quite the crush on you."

At the bluntness worthy of a Räikkönen, Oscar stops working altogether.

๑彡 it’s a little awkward to have an note at the end bc of my tumblr formatting, but it’s important to me that you guys know that yn definitely got banned on purpose. it’s meant to loosely parallel kimi in that grill the grid ep where he lost on purpose so he could leave, heh.

๑彡 also! 5/6th way to finishing this, i realized this prolly would’ve been better if i showed yn’s pov— but that was a lil too late, so osc’s pov had to do. yn’s pov would’ve had more angst in it, too, && idk if y’all dig that. lol. in all seriousness, i hope y’all enjoyed somehow <3

#oscar piastri x reader #op81 x reader #f1 x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #op81 fanfic #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #op81 imagine #f1 imagine #oscar piastri fic #op81 fic #f1 fic #oscar piastri #op81 #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren formula one #f1 #formula 1 #formula one

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blondechariot · 22 days ago

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NCT127 reaction to you telling them you’re a virgin

Pairing: NCT127 x reader

Warnings: light smut, make out, some fluff

Taeyong

It’s a boring Sunday afternoon, and for once, Taeyong has the day off. You two decided you would only leave the bed for food and bathroom breaks. It had been his idea, and you immediately agreed since you both hadn’t been able to spend much time together lately. You and Taeyong haven’t been together for long — just a month, to be exact. That made it even more special for you to have him all to yourself for an entire day and hide away at home.

So it happens that at 4 PM, you’re still lying in bed. His head rests in your lap as he scrolls through his phone while you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair. Eventually, he closes his eyes and sighs,

“This is nice. Maybe you should apply to work at SM as staff so I can take you on tour with me,” he suggests with a smile.

You giggle. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He absentmindedly nods. “I’d love it. I’d have you around every day,” he murmurs, wiggling his eyebrows.

“And at night, when everyone’s asleep, I’ll sneak into your room.”

You smile briefly but then grow thoughtful.

“And what would we do in my room?” you ask.

He opens one eye and tilts his head slightly.

“Well, this. You’d run your fingers through my hair.”

“Oh, so that’s why you want me to come along? To be your personal masseur?” you laugh mockingly, making him grin widely.

“I’d make sure to return the favor,” he promises, reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles.

You tilt your head slightly, watching him as he intertwines his fingers with yours and squeezes them gently. Your relationship was amazing in every way — except for one thing. Taeyong had never mentioned it, but you were aware of the way he looked at you when you changed after a shower or lay by the pool in a bikini. You noticed his glances but always pretended not to. He never brought it up or tried to go further than kissing or making out on the couch. You were grateful for that, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that a conversation about it was coming soon.

It’s not that you didn’t want to — Taeyong looked incredible, and there were moments you could barely hold yourself back from jumping him. It was more the fact that you had no experience at all that made you hesitant.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Taeyong says, pulling you out of your daze, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You chuckle softly and run your fingers through your hair.

“What’s wrong?” he asks curiously, turning his head toward you.

You chew on your lower lip, searching for the right words.

“I-I know it might seem like I’m making you wait on purpose, but I’m not,” you suddenly say, making him frown slightly

“What do you mean?”

“Tae… I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you or anything… that’s not why we haven’t gone further yet,” you explain.

He sits up, looking at you confused.

“What is this? Are you trying to justify yourself?” he asks with a small smile.

“It’s more like… I just want to explain so you don’t think badly of me,” you confess, feeling guilty.

He laughs and kisses you gently.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he assures you.

“But—”

“Listen, you’re the hottest woman in the entire world to me, but that’s not why I’m with you. I don’t care when we take the next step — I just don’t want you to feel pressured into anything,” he says, placing his hand on your cheek.

You chew on your lip again and clear your throat before looking into his eyes.

“I, um… I’m still a virgin,” you say quietly.

He looks at you for a moment and then chuckles.

“So what?”

“That means I really have zero experience… What if I’m terrible?” you ask, insecure.

He sighs briefly and kisses you again.

“I doubt that. You drive me crazy just by tossing your hair back. I’m more worried about being terrible myself,” he laughs.

You roll your eyes and playfully nudge him.

“Idiot.”

“The fact that you’re a virgin doesn’t change anything for me — if anything, honestly, it’s kinda sexy,” he admits, grinning.

You laugh and kiss him tenderly.

“We’ll figure it out — but only when you’re really ready, okay?” he asks seriously, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Okay,” you confirm with a big smile.

Doyoung

It’s your fourth date. The first three were spent at the movies, going for a walk, and visiting a museum followed by coffee. At the end of your second date, you had gathered your courage and kissed him for the first time. Since then, not a minute had gone by without the two of you texting, calling, or sending each other funny videos and pictures.

Tonight, however, he had invited you over to his place — the first time you’d ever been to his apartment. He cooked for you and had clearly put in a lot of effort. You hadn’t missed how his hand trembled slightly when he poured you some more wine or helped you take off your coat. By now, though, he had relaxed, and the two of you had been laughing, chatting about everything and nothing, and joking around.

It was getting late as you both started clearing the table and loading the dishwasher.

“You have surprisingly few plates,” you remarked as you peeked into one of his cabinets.

“I know. A lot of them didn’t survive,” he snorted in mock frustration while rinsing the frying pan.

You closed the cabinet door and watched him for a moment. He was standing with his back to you at the sink, and you observed the way his shoulders moved. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his muscles flexed now and then as he handled the heavy pan. He looked incredibly good, and you felt a sudden urge to touch him.

You walked over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He looked at you surprised, then smiled broadly.

“What was that for?”

“As a thank you—for the meal,” you replied with a smile of your own.

He set the pan down and dried his hands with a towel before turning to face you.

“Then I guess I should cook more often,” he said and took your hand.

“I can bring a plate each time, so eventually you’ll have enough,” you suggested, making him roll his eyes with a grin.

“If that means you’ll come over more often, I’m all for it,” he said softly, raising one corner of his mouth before gently placing a finger under your chin so you’d look at him.

You smiled faintly and leaned up to press your lips against his. He leaned in, placing his hands on your hips while yours cupped his face. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, and you sighed quietly. One of his hands moved to the back of your neck while the other settled on your waist, pulling you closer.

You hesitantly pulled back and gave him a quick smile.

“M-Maybe we could sit on the couch? It’s more comfortable,” you suggested quietly.

He grinned and nodded before taking your hand and leading you to the couch. But you turned him around so you could sit down first, pulling him down with you. He looked at you intently before connecting your lips again and settling between your legs. You ran your fingers through his hair as he began kissing your neck, his hands exploring your body.

You closed your eyes, trying to relax, but when his hand moved between your legs and started sliding up your thigh, your body tensed up. You placed your hand over his.

“Everything okay?” he asked, lifting his head with concern.

You bit your lip and sighed.

“Sorry,” you murmured, frustrated by your own reaction.

“Did I do something wrong? Am I going too fast?”

“No, no, not at all,” you quickly said, brushing your hand along his cheek.

Still, he looked unsure, and you cleared your throat, straightening up a little so you could meet his gaze.

“I, um… I’ve just never done this before,” you admitted shyly.

“Sex?” he asked, surprised.

You nodded slowly, looking at him nervously.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, clearly surprised.

“It just never came up… is that bad?”

“Of course not,” he said quickly with a small smile, giving you a short kiss.

“But if I’d known, I don’t know… I probably would’ve approached things differently,” he admitted, a little awkward.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t even know why I just blurted it out,” you murmured quietly.

He gave you a soft smile and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m glad you told me,” he said warmly. “And I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, ever. Promise.”

You laughed quietly and nodded.

“I know,” you said, and kissed him.

You looked at each other for a moment before you cleared your throat.

“I should probably go now.”

“Or… you could stay,” he suggested. “We could watch a movie, talk, I’ve even got coffee.”

You smiled widely and nodded.

“That sounds perfect.”

Jaehyun

Well, so much for the picnic,”

Jaehyun sighed after closing the car door, while the rain pounded heavily against the outside. You had planned a beautiful picnic by the lake, everything was perfectly prepared — but the weather had other plans. It had started off nicely: you managed to lay out the blanket and sit down, but just as you began eating, the sky darkened and the first shower came down. You barely made it back to the car with your things.

Your hair and clothes were soaked, and the car seats immediately absorbed the rainwater.

“Damn it,” Jaehyun muttered under his breath, staring out the window.

You pushed your wet hair back and shrugged.

“Oh well,” you said, laughing, and reached for the basket of food.

“Guess it’s going to be a car picnic instead,” you suggested, handing him a sandwich.

He looked skeptically at your hand for a moment before laughing and shrugging as well.

“Fine by me,” he chuckled and took the sandwich from you.

A little while later, you had your legs draped across his lap, and you had already eaten most of the food. Absentmindedly, his hand started to trace lazy patterns along your legs. His gaze rested on you, and when you looked up, your eyes met his. He gave you a wide smile.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have mayonnaise on my face?” you asked, starting to wipe your face frantically.

“Now that you mention it…” he said, pulling your legs further over his lap, bringing your upper body closer to him.

You startled a little but laughed as he looked at you proudly.

“What are you doing?”

“You really do have some mayonnaise,” he teased, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth.

He paused, studying you for a second, before saying, “Hmm, nope, there’s still something left,” and kissed you again — this time fully on the lips, gently stroking your cheek. You kissed him back but then pulled away.

“Don’t do that,” you whined playfully, giving him a little shove in the side.

He laughed and tilted his head.

“What’s wrong? Does it make you nervous?” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No, but it ruins the mood,” you said, laughing but trying to stay serious.

He gasped in mock offense and frowned.

“Wow, how am I ruining the mood?”

“We were having such a nice picnic in the car,” you grinned.

“Exactly. It’s raining outside, we’ve got food, and I’m stuck in a small space with a beautiful woman,” he said dramatically.

“All that’s missing is some music and candles to make it properly romantic,” you added sarcastically.

He sat up a little straighter.

“I don’t have candles, but I do have music,” he said proudly, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening Spotify.

He played a chill playlist and set the phone down on the driver’s seat. Then he relaxed back so that your legs rested fully across his lap, making it easy for him to lean over you.

“Just so you know, I think this is very romantic,” he informed you, bumping his nose against yours.

You smiled softly and traced his lips with your fingertips before kissing him tenderly. His hand slid up your thigh and you took a deep breath, looking into his eyes nervously. He smiled warmly at you, and for a moment, your nervousness faded — until he leaned down to nibble gently at your earlobe and trailed kisses along your neck.

“Jaehyun,” you breathed, threading a hand into his hair.

“Mhm?” he hummed against your skin, continuing his kisses.

“I’m still a virgin,” you confessed, feeling him freeze mid-movement.

He lifted his head and looked at you, surprised.

“Really?”

You nodded quickly, feeling nervous under his gaze. His silence made your heart race.

“We don’t have to continue, you know? We can stop,” he offered gently, stroking your stomach.

“But you want to keep going,” you said skeptically.

He let out a small laugh.

“Of course I’d love to keep going, but I would never force you into anything you’re not ready for,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You sat up and played with a strand of his hair.

“That’s not it. I do want to keep going… I just thought you should know,” you murmured shyly.

He looked at you in surprise.

“So you want to… you know.”

You giggled and nodded.

“Yes, Jaehyun. I want you to be my first.”

His cheeks flushed red, and he scratched the back of his neck.

“I, uh, feel honored.”

“Aww, am I making you nervous now?” you teased, quoting him from earlier and giving him a cheeky grin.

He rolled his eyes.

“I just want it to be special for you,” he pouted.

“I’m ready, okay? I trust you, and I’m 100% sure I want this,” you assured him, kissing his cheek.

“Are you really sure?” he asked one last time.

“Really sure,” you confirmed, smiling brightly.

He grinned widely and gently pushed you back down onto the seat, positioning himself over you.

Mark

You’re sitting next to each other on the couch. You’re watching a movie while Mark is on his phone. Over the course of a year, the two of you had become very close friends — you could talk about anything. Mark knew everything about your love life, and you knew everything about his.

He also knew that you had recently been dumped by your boyfriend and that he was the only guy you could currently stand to be around. It already helped just having him sitting next to you on the couch, even if he was just scrolling through his phone. You always enjoyed his presence, even during the quiet moments when you weren’t talking or goofing around.

You sat on your side of the couch, chewing on a pretzel stick, your eyes on the TV — though your mind kept wandering.

You hadn’t gotten very far physically with your ex; you never had sex, which would have been your first time. You had been excited because sex was something that sparked your curiosity, something you really wanted to experience. All the more angry you were when your ex ended up sleeping with a coworker.

Since then, a frustration had been building inside you, one you couldn’t even put into words.

You had reached a point where you just wanted to get it over with — for the experience. But not with just anyone. You wanted it to be someone you trusted, someone you liked, and who knew you well.

Your gaze stopped on your friend Mark, who was resting his head on one hand while scrolling through TikTok.

“Mark,” you said slowly, raising an eyebrow.

“Hm?” he replied, turning his head slightly but keeping his eyes on his screen.

“Would you sleep with me?” you asked boldly.

He glanced at you, let out a short laugh, and shook his head before turning back to his phone.

When you stayed silent and kept looking at him, he froze and furrowed his brow.

“Wait, what?” he asked, blinking in confusion.

“You think I’m attractive, right?” you pressed on.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw you checking out my boobs when I bent over,” you said casually.

“Okay, hey, I — uh — what is happening right now?” he stammered, finally putting his phone aside.

You sighed and turned off the TV.

“You know I’m still a virgin… and honestly, I’m so over it. I want to finally have sex, but I don’t feel like starting a whole new relationship just for that.”

“Then download Tinder or something,” he muttered.

“I want to do it with someone I trust. Someone who knows me and actually likes me. I’ve had so many bad experiences with guys that I don’t want to leave my first time up to chance,” you explained.

Mark stared at you for a moment before pulling a skeptical face.

“This is a test, right?”

“Mark,” you said, rolling your eyes in frustration.

“Do I need to show you my boobs to prove I’m serious? Because I’ll do it,” you threatened, tugging at your T-shirt.

“No!” he yelped, quickly pushing your shirt back down.

“I-I’m just trying to wrap my head around this. You want to have your first time with me? But you have other guy friends too.”

“I don’t trust any of them like I trust you. Plus, you’re cute,” you teased with a grin.

He blushed slightly and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“So… what do you say?” you tried again, nudging him gently in the side.

He scratched the back of his head thoughtfully and took a deep breath, glancing around.

“So what then… here and now? Or how do you imagine this?” he asked.

“I don’t know. You’re the more experienced one,” you shrugged.

He chuckled at your honesty and smiled briefly. Then he stood up and reached for your hand.

“Just because I’m more experienced doesn’t mean I’m good at it. But maybe we should at least move to the bedroom,” he suggested.

You smiled too, but then he looked at you seriously.

“I just need to know this is really what you want,” he said, squeezing your hand firmly.

“I want this. I really do,” you confirmed, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

He looked surprised and froze for a second, then shook himself out of it and nodded.

“All right.”

Johnny

You barely made it into the hallway before Johnny slammed the door shut behind him and pressed you up against the wall. You kissed him feverishly, your hands running through his hair, while his clung tightly to your waist, tracing your skin and giving you playful squeezes.

You had met at Mark’s party, had a few too many drinks, and after an hour of intense conversation, decided to leave and get to know each other better.

“I have no idea where I’m going,” he mumbled against your lips with a grin, and you realized that you were at your place — he didn’t know the layout.

You giggled softly before grabbing his hand and pulling him along behind you.

In your bedroom, you started taking off your jacket, but he beat you to it, practically yanking it off.

You stumbled a little and laughed, but he quickly caught you, laughing along before taking off his blazer as well.

You let yourself fall backward onto the bed, and he followed without hesitation, pinning your hands above your head and pressing hot kisses against your neck.

You sighed and closed your eyes, trying to free your hands from his grip — but he was too strong.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he panted against your skin before kissing you deeply again.

You smiled briefly and arched your chest up so he could reach the zipper of your dress.

When he pulled the top half down, he sat back for a second, shaped his fingers like a camera, and said,

“Mental picture.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, pulling him back down toward you.

But he pulled away again, hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt. When you finally felt his skin against yours, heat flooded through your body, and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He ground his hips against your pelvis, and you bit your lip to stifle a sound.

Satisfied, he grinned and let his hand rest against your neck, stroking your skin with his fingertips.

He kissed you once more and then looked at you, asking,

“Do you have condoms here?”

Your face fell at the question, and with growing horror, you realized you didn’t have any.

You were still a virgin and definitely hadn’t been prepared for tonight. You were on the pill, but you had only just started taking it about a week ago, and you weren’t even sure how reliable it was yet.

“Uh…” you began awkwardly, and he glanced down at himself.

“I’m clean, so if you’re on the pill—”

“I-I’ve only been on the pill for about a week,” you stammered, flustered.

He grew more alert, raising an eyebrow.

“But you’ve done this before, right?”

You searched for the right words, but your face already gave you away.

“Oh,” Johnny said, surprised, and moved away from you.

“So what? I’m still a virgin. Are you seriously going to tell me that’s a problem?” you snapped, frustrated by his reaction, feeling stupid.

Johnny knelt in front of you and ran his hand through his hair.

“I honestly can’t do this,” he admitted.

“Seriously? You do realize that it’s completely my choice when I want to lose my virginity, right? And it’s none of your business why I waited. But fine, if it makes you that uncomfortable or embarrassed that I’m still a virgin — whatever. Leave,” you said sharply, pulling your dress back up.

He sighed and tilted his head.

“It’s not embarrassing that you’re a virgin,” he explained calmly.

“But your first time shouldn’t be a one-night stand… and definitely not while drunk.”

“I’m not even drunk,” you protested, offended.

He gave you a gentle shove, and you wobbled slightly.

“Stop it,” you hissed at him but sank back into the pillows with a huff.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head in annoyance.

Johnny chuckled softly and leaned over you again to kiss you gently.

“I think it’s cool that you’re still a virgin. But I’m not the right guy for your first time — not under these circumstances,” he explained.

You tried to hide your disappointment and shrugged.

“Fine. Are you going to call yourself a cab then?”

He stood up and started pulling his clothes back on.

As he saw you sitting there on the bed, he gave you a crooked smile and grabbed a pen from your desk.

“Give me your hand,” he said.

You hesitated but then reached out to him. He scribbled something down for a moment.

“That’s my number. If you’re sober and still think this is a good idea, call me,” he offered with a warm smile.

You looked down at the messy numbers on your hand and cleared your throat.

“I’m not promising anything.”

“I know,” he said with a wink before leaving your bedroom.

Jungwoo

This feels so good,” you sigh dreamily as you sit at the edge of the pool, your legs dangling in the water.

Jungwoo sits beside you, his legs also submerged, enjoying the calm and the coolness of the water.

The two of you had snuck into the outdoor pool after closing hours to cool off on such a hot day.

You watch your toes wiggle under the surface, then an idea strikes you. You pull your legs out of the water and stand up.

“What are you doing?” Jungwoo asks curiously.

“This isn’t enough for me,” you grin, pulling your T-shirt over your head.

He watches you with wide eyes as you strip down to just your bra and panties, hands resting on your hips.

“Are you coming in too?”

“What if we get caught? We won’t exactly be able to just run away,” he says, sounding thoughtful — though his attention is completely fixed on you.

You pause for a second, then shrug before reaching behind your back to undo your bra.

You toss it at him with a mischievous grin.

Jungwoo laughs briefly, clearly not believing what he’s seeing, as you step out of your panties and jump into the water.

When you resurface, you shoot him a challenging look, wiggling your eyebrows.

“Coming in?”

He watches you for a moment, then grins and slowly gets up, starting to strip off his clothes.

Just as he’s about to jump in, you call out to him.

“Didn’t you forget something?”

He glances down at himself and notices he’s still wearing his boxers.

“Equal rights for everyone,” you tease, splashing a little water in his direction.

Jungwoo blushes slightly, fingers hesitating at the waistband before he takes a deep breath and pulls them down as well.

You can’t help but sneak a glance, grinning triumphantly as he finally jumps into the water and swims over to you.

You feel his hands at your waist as he surfaces, running a hand through his wet hair.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he pulls you into his lap.

“If I end up naked in jail because of you, I swear I’m going to kill you,” he laughs softly before you kiss him, your fingers threading through his damp hair.

Jungwoo gently pushes you backward until your back meets the edge of the pool.

You gasp for air briefly before pulling him into another passionate kiss. His arms are locked around your legs, holding you tightly against him.

When you pull away to catch your breath, he kisses along your neck, his fingers gliding over your skin.

You bite your lip and let out a soft moan, moving your hips against his, feeling him slowly harden.

“Jungwoo,” you breathe, your fingers trailing down his back.

He growls softly at the sensation of your nails and playfully bites your skin.

“Jungwoo,” you say again, more insistently this time.

The water ripples around you as you cup his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

“I— I want this… I want you… but I’m still a virgin,” you confess.

He looks at you, surprised, but says nothing for a moment.

Instead, he gently strokes your thighs, his expression unsure.

“And you’re sure you want this? Here?” he asks, concerned.

You smile brightly and kiss him quickly.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I really, really want this,” you whisper.

“But wouldn’t it be nicer—” he begins, but you cut him off with another kiss.

“It’s perfect. Honestly. I couldn’t imagine a better moment — or anyone I’d rather experience this with,” you tell him softly.

He looks at you for another moment, then brushes a wet strand of hair from your face and kisses you deeply.

He lifts you slightly, pressing you even closer to him, and you gasp softly as he mutters a quiet curse under his breath

Yuta

The sun was slowly setting as you and Yuta settled on the rooftop with a few blankets, a bottle of wine, and some food to enjoy the view.

It had been your idea — Yuta had had a long, exhausting day, and you wanted him to relax. You knew how hard he worked and thought he deserved some peace and quiet at your place.

The sky was already glowing red as you rested your head against his shoulder, absentmindedly tracing your fingers along his arm.

“This is nice,” you sighed.

When you didn’t get a response, you turned your head toward him.

“Yuta?”

Still no answer.

When you carefully lifted your head, you discovered your boyfriend had fallen asleep.

You chuckled softly before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, which woke him up.

He frowned in confusion for a second, but the moment he opened his eyes and saw you, he smiled warmly.

“Should we go back inside? You should get some real sleep,” you suggested, starting to get up, but he pulled you back down against him.

“No, five more minutes,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around you, pressing your head to his chest so you could hear his heartbeat.

He smelled incredible — that perfect, natural scent he always had without needing any cologne.

You inhaled deeply and kissed his collarbone softly.

“Oh, thanks,” he teased, grinning mischievously, and you pinched his arm.

“It’s unfair how good you smell naturally,” you mumbled against his shirt.

“Really? I think it’s pretty practical,” he said with a smug tone.

You rolled your eyes but kissed his collarbone again.

“How is that even possible? You come straight from training, eat greasy food, hang out with a bunch of guys, and you still smell heavenly,” you said in disbelief, sitting up slightly to look at him.

“It’s the testosterone. Drives women crazy,” he grinned cheekily.

“I hope you’re only talking about one woman,” you warned him playfully.

“Of course,” he laughed, kissing you sweetly.

You smiled into the kiss, then stood up briefly, making him look at you in confusion.

But you simply sat down in his lap, kissing him again — this time with more passion.

He seemed a little surprised but quickly pulled you tightly against him as you kissed along his neck, his hand slipping into your hair.

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly, his voice already a little rough.

“I can’t help it,” you whispered back, sliding your fingers under his shirt.

Goosebumps spread across his skin, and he closed his eyes briefly before leaning into you so your chest was pressed against his.

“You better control yourself. You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered with a crooked smile.

You returned his smile and raised an eyebrow.

“Good.”

He looked slightly startled, and you took his hands in yours, squeezing them tightly.

“There’s something you don’t know about me,” you admitted softly, making him look at you with concern.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, alarmed, his heartbeat speeding up.

“I’m a virgin,” you blurted out, feeling embarrassed.

He stared at you silently for a few seconds before leaning back a little to look you over.

“Really?”

You nodded, swallowing hard.

“Is… is that a problem for you?” you asked nervously.

He laughed and shook his head.

“To be honest…” he began, placing his hands firmly on your thighs.

You gasped in surprise at his strong grip, instinctively pressing your chest against him.

“That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever told me,” he added with a mischievous waggle of his eyebrows.

“Really?” you asked, shocked.

“Absolutely. And if you’re really sure you want to do this… I’m definitely not going to say no.

But I need you to be sure,” he warned you, brushing your cheek gently.

You thought for a moment, looked around, and bit your lip.

“Let’s stay up here,” you said.

“Seriously?” he laughed.

You giggled, pulling your top over your head and tossing it at him.

“It’s supposed to be special, right?” you said with a wicked grin.

Haechan

The party had been over for about half an hour. It was four in the morning, and almost everyone was either passed out or had disappeared with their hookups.

Johnny had offered you his bed earlier, but once he met your friend, it was clear he’d be needing it himself.

So here you were, sitting on the couch with a glass of water in your hand, trying to counter your inevitable hangover while staring blankly ahead.

You weren’t exactly tired yet — just very drunk. Damn Johnny and his persuasive ways.

You heard a noise and looked up.

Haechan stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. When he saw you, he gave a small wave and a nod.

“Hey.”

“Hey, where did you come from?” you asked, surprised.

“I fell asleep on the balcony chair. Nearly froze my ass off,” he said, rubbing his arms.

“You know if there’s a free room where no one’s having sex?” he asked hopefully.

“I don’t think so,” you grinned.

He sighed and glanced at your phone.

“Can I borrow your phone? I’ll call a cab.”

You looked around briefly and shifted on the couch.

“You can just take the couch. It’s too late to call a cab anyway.”

“No way, it’d be rude to kick you off,” he shook his head.

“I meant we could share the couch. You think I’m gonna sleep on the floor?” you asked, feigning offense.

“Is that really okay?”

“Shut up and sit down,” you grumbled.

He plopped down beside you and ran a hand through his hair.

“Did I miss much?”

“Honestly, I didn’t even know you were here,” you admitted with a laugh.

He grinned and pinched your side.

“Where’s Johnny?”

“With my friend in his bed… you know,” you said, smirking.

“Oh,” he said, surprised, glancing down the hallway.

“Damn.”

“What?”

“I thought he’d be hooking up with you,” he said casually.

You frowned, confused.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on, I saw the way you were looking at him.”

“Oh god — we — no… just no. Johnny and I are good friends. That’s it. He’s really not my type,” you said quickly, scrunching up your nose.

Haechan scoffed, and although he reeked slightly of alcohol, he seemed more or less coherent.

“Can’t blame him though. Wish I hadn’t fallen asleep; maybe I’d be in a room right now too,” he sighed dramatically.

You rolled your eyes and patted his thigh.

“Poor guy,” you said sarcastically.

“Hey, you have no idea how rough it is,” he protested, biting his lip.

“I miss it — that physical closeness. There’s nothing better than feeling a woman’s warm body against yours, her soft skin under your hands while you explore her body, pressing her close, kissing her neck, feeling her melt under you, making her feel like she’s pure perfection. Even when you’re both sweating, bodies burning up… that feeling is indescribable,” he sighed.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Only now did you realize you hadn’t even blinked.

Haechan’s words echoed in your head, and your grip on your glass tightened.

The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing part of his chest, a few beads of sweat glistening on his skin.

You bit your lip, your breathing getting a little faster.

When Haechan waved his hand in front of your face, you snapped out of your trance.

“What?” you asked, startled.

“I said, are you okay?” he repeated, confused.

You stared at him for a while, took a sip of your water, and then set the glass on the coffee table.

You turned toward him, taking a deep breath.

“Haechan?”

“Hm ?”

“Do you want to have sex?”

“I mean, did you even listen to me? I can barely hold it together. I’m dying here,” he scoffed.

You mustered all your courage and cleared your throat.

“I mean with me. Do you want to have sex with me?”

“What?” he laughed, but when he saw the serious look on your face, his smile faded.

“You’re serious?”

“The thing is, um… I don’t have much experience,” you admitted, your voice raspy, swallowing hard, “but everything you said earlier… it really got to me. And you were right. I want that too.”

He looked you up and down, thinking for a moment.

“Or am I that awful?” you asked, hurt, glancing down at yourself.

“No,” he said quickly, scratching the back of his head.

“Quite the opposite… it’s just — I have to ask, since we’ve been drinking — are you really sure you want this?” he asked uncertainly.

You nodded, shrugging slightly.

“So, are you just all talk, or can you actually back it up?” you teased him with a smirk.

He scoffed and raised an eyebrow.

“You tell me,” he said, pulling you roughly into his lap.

#nct 127 #nctzen #nct imagines #nct x reader #taeyong #jaehyun #johnny suh #mark lee #kim jungwoo #haechan #nakamoto yuta #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #romance

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nvxzaa · 30 days ago

Text

── .✦ Half words

Pairing : ¡idol!Lee know x ¡idol!Reader

Word : 684

Genre : fluff

Warning : none

For nine months, Minho and YN had been living the perfect love story... in silence.

No public meetings, no inappropriate gestures behind the scenes, and even less visible interaction online. They were sworn to secrecy. Their agencies were strict, the contracts clear: zero rumors. So they loved each other through the gaps, the stolen glances backstage, the coded messages at 3 a.m., and the little objects they left each other by way of presence.

That evening, Minho was live on Instagram with his fans. He was talking about his day, the last rehearsal with his band, while nibbling snacks on his sofa. Nothing out of the ordinary, until his wrist spent a little too long in front of the camera.

A black, braided bracelet, decorated with small golden pearls. And on one of them... the initials Y.L.

The comments exploded:

"What kind of bracelet is that? YN as in... YN?"

"Has he ever worn it?"

"I swear she had one just like it..."

The next day, unsuspecting of the online uproar, YN logged on in turn for a live stream on Weverse. She was laughing, her hair tied back in a fuzzy bun, a black scrunchie holding back her rebellious locks. A fan zooms in. Her bracelet slips off her sleeve. Same model. Same pearls. M.L.

Within hours, the most attentive fans were diving into the archives.

An oversized gray sweater that Minho had worn to a vlog a few weeks earlier? YN had it on his shoulders backstage three days later.

A blurry story of Minho from behind, in a discreet café? Same chair, same cup, same green plant behind YN two days later.

A black velvet scrunchie Minho wore around his wrist during a concert... then around YN's ponytail during an interview.

A Twitter thread was born:

"Minho x YN: coincidences or confirmation?"

With dozens of pieces of evidence lined up like a puzzle that the two idols thought they were hiding.

And in the middle of it all, a comment that perfectly summed up the gist of the story:

"If they've managed to hide this from us for so long, it's because they really care about each other."

The rumors didn't die down. On the contrary, every public appearance by Minho or YN was scrutinized. Yet instead of frightening them... something changed between them.

They stopped hiding.

Not abruptly, not obviously either. But their messages became more direct. Less coded. And when they got together, even for a few hours between two crazy schedules, they didn't waste a minute.

One evening, in a private studio rented by their trusted staff, they found themselves sheltered from the world, their hearts pounding, their fingers entwined.

- Don't you regret it?" asked YN, his voice a little fragile. I mean... if it all blows up.

Minho took a step closer and pressed his forehead to hers.

- You know what I'd regret? Loving you in silence all my life.

She smiled softly, her eyes shining.

- It's so dramatic.

- It's me," he replied with a wink.

They knew it was no longer just a game of discretion. They were a team, an invisible but solid bond that withstood outside pressure. And even if the agencies were already whispering warnings, they would keep going. Together.

Their fans, meanwhile, seemed... divided. But a good number were beginning to sneak up on them.

One fan-account went viral after posting:

"Look at them. They've never been so bright. Frankly, I want them to be happy. Whether they're together or not. But if they are together... then so much the better."

Then, one evening, without warning, YN posted a story.

No picture of them. Just a photo of their two bracelets, lying side by side on a wooden table, in a golden light. In the background, a soft song. The lyrics read, "if the world finds out, at least we loved without lying."

She didn't tag anyone. Not a word. Not an explanation.

But this time, they stopped trying to calm the storm.

Minho re-shared the story. Just with an emoji: "..."

And that was enough.

Masterlist

#skz #skz stray kids #skz x reader #x yn #stray kids #lee know x y/n #lee know skz #lee know x reader #lee know #skz minho #stray kids minho #minho

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bunicate · 1 year ago

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⋆⁺₊❅⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ BY YOUR SIDE . pierro x fem reader

warning ꒱ྀི incest. ddlg dynamics. daddy kink [ papa + dada ] . size kink. creampie. reader kinda being a litl brat / repost / unedited as always :p / wc ꒱ 2.5k / 18+ / ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

there’s the faintest, most desperate echo of a mewl that can be heard from outside the biggest room reserved for no one other than the first harbinger himself.

fourteen days he was away from you. fourteen days without your touch. fourteen days he was unable to see you. fourteen days without inhaling your scent. fourteen long, bitter, cold days pierro spent missing you and still, finally graced with your presence, he’s as composed as ever.

he leans until his back hits his chair, and he relaxes. with his half-empty wine glass discarded on a nearby tray, he eases himself down from his budding desire with deep and steady inhales and exhales. his eyes are clouded over with lust.

the level of patience pierro possessed was carefully crafted throughout the many years he’s been alive. his resilience has never been more clear than it is right now, as his daughter, whom he loves so dearly, clamored over him half-naked.

he found your struggle to be quite a show. chin resting on calloused fingers, he occasionally rubs the scruff of his stark white beard. It’s become habitual for you to crawl and seat yourself on his thick thighs. pouty and close to tears, your fingers claw at his polished suit to steady yourself.

he’s always been the one to take the lead, but he’s forfeited that control momentarily, allowing you to use him to your heart's content.

your chest bares from the looseness of your clothes, and his facade slips only slightly. your hips swivel clumsily, and his erect cock bounces off the plumpness of your butt. he releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

you raise your bottom higher, placing his cock right against your wet slit that stained the coarse hairs at the base of his shaft. his body tenses at the contact, his eyes zeroing in on the pretty sheen that coated his remarkable length.

“hnnn.”

a strangled moans escape when it skims over the surface of your twitchy button—a gentle caress with enough pressure to make your back arch.

it was difficult prepping yourself for the first time, but you refused his help. you were like him in so many ways. you’re a creature constantly chasing perfection. one attempt after the other until you’d be rewarded with what your efforts promised, but pierro just didn’t want to see you hurt.

“take it easy, little one.”

his hand cups the softness of your ass, lightly squeezing it. you shake your head. brows pulled together and lips trembling as the drag of your cunt wets him further.

he expected you to behave like this.

a recent conflict pulled him away longer than he expected, and he knows that in his absence, you were unsatisfied. your fingers are not nearly as thick and long as his to ease that ruminating ache between your legs, but he was here now to finally take over, and you wouldn’t let him.

holding your chin, he tilts your head up. you see the concern sewn into his mature features.

“I'm not going anywhere; you don’t need to rush.” it’s a very simple affirmation, but it did nothing to relieve your troubles.

‘liar’ you want to retort, but you choose to remain silent. the truth is, he couldn’t promise that. you knew he’d leave again, and each time you were never sure if he’d return. how you managed to have such little faith in a man who’s lived nearly half a millennia and witnessed such catastrophes was unheard of.

to others, he’s feared—untouchable, unscathed, a force to be reckoned with, but somehow a much smaller and weaker girl— his girl worries for him dearly. It's humorous, but he could never, in good faith, hold it against you. It's been too long since he’s felt the delicate touch of another and to be looked after with such care. he’d readily take as much as he could.

you put your hand on his shoulder, and the other grabs his cock by the thickest part as it comes to life in your palm. it’s warm and beads pre-cum that slowly drips, following the path of his most protruding vein. there’s a feeling that shoots through your body, and it’s all too familiar as you watch the milky drops descend.

you have to bite back another broken moan.

hovering over his dick, you cushion it right against your entrance, swaying from the slight loss of balance. finding your footing, you try once again to tuck him between your walls, but the leakiness of your cunt makes the head of his cock slip. your frustration was an understatement.

pierro watched you closely as you moved sloppily. stuck in a mulish state, you’d rather fumble instead of asking for his help.

“you’re going to hurt yourself, love,” he remarks. while aroused by the brief contact of skin, pierro remained humbled at your show of defiance.

you make a noise, brushing off his concern and rolling your shoulders to straighten up.

“don't care, ‘need to have you inside of me.”

you huff your chest every time his smooth tip rubs your slippery opening. tracing it against the silky folds of your cunt, they separate as you struggle to insert him. you begin to brace yourself. it only takes a few more shaky attempts until his cock finally penetrates with a swift and brutal plunge.

“hmmph—!”

you can’t stop twitching around him when he’s buried so deep. your head hangs back, and your bit lip is barely enough to keep the hiss at bay. no amount of rubbing against his thigh could ever prepare you for that piercing stretch that churned your insides. the stretch that forces your legs further apart and makes your eyes tighten in desperation.

your stomach flexes, and anxiety wrecks you. you breathe audibly, finding it in yourself to remain calm, but archons — you were a few thrusts from already cumming.

“do you need papa to help you ?”

his voice stirs you from concentration, and it borders on breaking.

pierro would be a liar if he said watching you take him didn’t bring a sense of triumph. riding him was no easy task. even after countless nights and all sorts of positions, his girth still proved to be a challenge, one that would take a lifetime for you to master, and that was one of the few things he could actually promise you, time.

but you ignore him and the concern in his tone. you’re a big girl, you don’t need his help. you’ll have all of him inside of you even without the wonderful burn of his fingers to help loosen your gummy walls.

you inhale slowly hoping that it will somehow allow the tension to subside and it does. it takes a minute, maybe two until the pressure feels comfortable. you’re still not quite all the way down, there’s another few centimeters left until he’s fully sheathed inside your walls. you’ve been resting your weight on your toes that dangled close to the floor and you know you should in fact take your time, but your body refuses to cooperate.

it's a wet plop from your thighs and ass meeting his groin when you force him in.

“h-hah—!“

pierro’s cock sharply hits your precious cervix and your eyes reel back into your skull. your daddy pats your leg encouragingly. even now he could barely fathom how such a small pussy could be so accommodating.

“there you go.”

inevitably, the praise still made your chest feel heavy. “that’s it, sweet girl.” that baritone voice made blood rush to your cheeks. lightheaded is what you felt. all the fire you once possessed turned into a lovesick, numbing feeling that left you unable to retain any air. especially when he adjusted his hips and his veiny cock bumped your cervix once more.

“ah— f-fuck!” you whine.

the hand on your thigh squeezes your softness as a warning.

“language.”

you're winded up so tight, afraid that if you moved an inch, you’d cum. the tears that brimmed your waterline fall.

“s-sorry papa.” you sniffle, “but it’s so deep, n’ I feel it stretching inside me.”

“does it hurt?" he hums. “would you like to stop?”

you shake your head profusely.

“no! please, I don’t wanna stop, not yet.”

unwilling to be separated from him, you lean on his chest. it’s warm and reminds you that you couldn’t be anywhere safer. slowly, you begin to ride his cock. a messy rhythm that did enough to please you.

his dick presses against your insides as your hips rotate in sloppy circles. your clit brushes against his skin with every move, pulling you closer to the end you missed so desperately.

you speed up, chasing that feeling selfishly until it grows and becomes too powerful to control.

“daddy . . .” you try to halt your hips, but you can’t stop the desperation. you settle for slowing down even more, but it only seems to drag the pleasure out further.

“I might make a mess” you mumble. you tuck yourself closer to his chest again to escape the burning flush of embarrassment.

pierro knows your body better than you do and even before your own realization, he was able to quickly assess your expression and feel how your cunt pulses around him. he understands what’s happening before you do.

“just focus on me. focus on papa.”

you nod.

it takes a moment to get the courage to move faster, but his cock nestling in your cunt couldn’t placate you. your humps pick up, and your thinking crumbles to know people stood less than 10 feet away, walking past the room. knowing they could possibly be hearing the moist noises of your cunt while you fucked him sloppily. the nervousness wasn't present; instead, a sweltering, mind-breaking urge grew. one that turns your stomach into knots and makes your your knees dig into his hips

“let it out, my dear.”

your legs lock around him, and a disgruntled groan leaves his lips as your pussy clenches.

“daddy. ” your nails scratch him, but he doesn’t flinch nor shy away. his hardened skin from years of ruthless battles could surely withstand the dig of his daughter's nails.

with a petulant whine and submissive arch of your back, your pillowy breasts block his vision while you seize around him. clenching and unclenching, arousal streams down his massive cock and sprays his front in spurts. your hand comes to rub at your clit to ride out the addicting high.

pierro could only watch in awe. how quick and easily you came to make his shaft throb to the beat of dull and erratic twinges.

“pretty girl, you’re going to make this old man faint.”

he presses a kiss on your nipple, holding you while your cunt continues to milk him. he hasn’t yet reached his own high and still he makes no effort to rush your come down. he’s far from a selfish lover, but that was something that came naturally as it’s his job as your father to make sure you are pleased in all aspects.

pierro’s cock remained snuggled inside of you. he pressed light kisses on your skin, as your breathing slows. before you can lose yourself in it, the scratch of his beard makes you pull away. turning up your nose, you make a noise of disapproval.

“you need to shave, daddy.”

he rubs his chin to feel his beard himself. it has been a while since he’s given it a trim. “you don’t like it?”

you take a second to think, staring at the thick gray covering the lower half of his face. “that depends. can I shave it for you?”

his eyes widen a bit, and his head turns away. “that’s . . . dangerous.”

you frown. “then no, I don’t like it.”

pierro laughs, and he rubs the sides of his face against your soft cheek, the hair of his beard uncomfortably prickling your face.

“w-what, what are you doing?” the scratches against your face mushed you two closer. his nose and lips poking you until your lips clumsily collide.

“papa, stop!” giggling, you push him away, but he holds you still. the kiss is uncoordinated at first because of your laughs, but he doesn’t mind it. one peck and then another until your lips are interlocked, moving at a slow pace that manages to steal your breath.

he groans when you move closer, and he guides your hips, hoping to drag more moans out for the rest of the night. feeling his cock throb, you remember he didn’t finish, but it didn’t take long to transition from the playful atmosphere to what it was once prior. the arousal was now thick in the air, weighing you down into submission.

your father picks you up with ease and fucks you like a toy. rough hands resting on your hips drag you up and down on his cock. the schlick schlick of his cum-coated length, plunging so deeply until it kisses your womb.

“cum inside me, d-dada, use me. use me to make you cum.”

“keep talking like that, baby; daddy is so close.” your pussy puffs from his slams. how something so small can manage to swallow his sheer size amazes him. balls slap against your ass, his grip on your body is tight, digging into you, and such a display of strength it was.

“y’r so deep. . my cunny was made for you.” the words are uttered in pauses from the force of his motioning hips. your tits point towards the ceiling—your nipples, perked and moist from his eager mouth, bounce, and the sight makes any remaining coherent thought disperse.

“you’re going to take every last drop of my seed.” it’s not a question but a demand, and like you were taught, you pleasantly comply.

“yes, daddy.” the veins in his arm are pretty and decorative. you look at his flexing muscles the way you’d look at a painting. eyes, absorbing the details that marked his brown skin. sweat trailing down his massive frame.

you want to kiss him, but your wrists are bound by his hand. maybe they’ll bruise later, but it’s not a concern of yours, you only want to see the man above reach his completion.

“make it so full with your cum until it leaks out of my little pussy,” you say barely a whisper, but the effect on him is still the same.

a gruff growl tumbles from his mouth, and his grip grows tighter.

“I'm gonna give it to you. daddy is going to fucking breed you, darling.” he uses your body to pump his cock, losing himself to the massaging of your tight walls.

his cock swells inside your creamy pussy, and then a stream of cum jets out. milky ribbons plugging you to the brim until it spills from the sides.

“ah–thaaat’s it. that’s my little girl .” he grunts. squeezing you tightly, the sound of his mess squelching in the now warm room could be heard. countless nights have ended with him buried in you, and still, your cunt managed to make him feel like a young man.

he rests his head back and swallows audibly to catch himself. you watch him in amusement at his sudden breathlessness.

“just give. . . *whew* papa a minute,” he sighs.

#will edit dis tmrw #૮꒰ ๑´ତ `๑ ꒱ྀིა #tw:incest #pierro x reader smut #pierro x you #pierro x reader #pierro smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact #female reader

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keigosdear · 6 months ago

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fem!reader, no physical descriptions. soft, fingering, allusions to future sex. very short <3

divider by @/cafekitsune

no thoughts just lazy make out sessions with keigo where one of hands finds it’s way in between your legs.

maybe it’s after a long patrol he wants to get off his mind, maybe it’s just a lazy sunday, but no matter the context, you don’t complain one bit.

you’re laying back on the bed in a tank top and some panties, keigo is on top of you, holding himself up with one arm and letting the other trail all over your body slowly and with no destination in mind.

he smiles a little against your lips when the hand he slips under your tank top gently grazes your skin and makes you giggle slightly. he’s sure to pull the top over your chest and without missing a beat, his hand is immediately all over the pillowy mounds.

he inhales your gasps as he thumbs at and pinches your nipples, devours your rising lust by trailing his hand down your body until it reaches your panties. you wrap your arms around his neck and lean up just as much as he’ll let you to keep him as close as possible.

slowly, his fingers begin teasing your covered pussy with the slightest amount of pressure. with a whine from you, he decides to slip his hand beneath the band and play with your clit.

slow, gentle circles from his semi-rough fingertips make it clear to you that his end goal isn’t to make you cum, but rather to make you feel good.

and god, are you feeling good.

he happily swallows any noises that spill from your lips with his kisses, languid and sloppy but full of love.

it feels like only seconds have passed until you’re wet enough for him to slip two fingers past your slit. you suck in a breath as he scissors them inside of you.

he smiles against your lips when he feels you clench around them, parting briefly to coo at you and remind you to relax a bit.

he doesn’t move fast, doesn’t immediately aim for the one spot that’ll drive you crazy, but the atmosphere you’ve both built mixed with how lazily he explores your inner walls has you whining and rolling your hips into his palm anyway.

“someone’s desperate,” he teases, nudging his nose against yours.

“keigo, please,” you beg, needing more than what he’s been offering.

he hums, pretends to think about it for a moment, before he’s angling his fingers just right and cranking up the dial of his thrusts from zero to one hundred.

it rips a high pitched cry of his name out of you, and you hear him snicker. “k-keigo!”

you grip his wrist hard enough for his hand to start tingling, but he feels your walls flutter more frequently and focuses solely on getting you off.

your moans only spur him on, so he kisses the sensitive spots on your neck and makes use of his thumb by rubbing your clit with just enough pressure to get you creaming around his digits.

your back arches as you cum. he slows his fingers a bit as he works you through it, before stopping completely. he readjusts and uses his free hand to pull your panties off completely.

he whistles at the sight of your slick folds and pulls his fingers out, meeting your eyes as he licks them clean. you turn your head and cover your face, but he makes a disapproving noise. “keep your eyes on me, sweets. I’m not done with you just yet.”

he lays down on his stomach and pulls your thighs over his shoulders. “I still need to clean you up, after all.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed :3

#keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader smut #hawks smut #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha x reader

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ladykailitha · 2 months ago

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Murder in the Heartland Part 1

Here it is, the most wonderfully insane idea I've ever come up with and I've had some whoppers (Steve in a mental institution and Vecna's Timeloop from Hell for example). This is still the wildest. Only that's a twist that's coming up way down the line. My wonderful discord peeps @forgottenkanji, @dreamercec, @bookworm0690 know all, but you'd have to join my discord to be in on the secret (there are other lurkers there who might know, but they might not *shrug*).

Summary: When a serial killer strikes Hawkins, the police zero in on Eddie Munson. But when the last would-be victim Robin Buckley says that it Jason Carver who was trying to kill her and not Eddie, the police are further put in their place by an anonymous tipper who did all the work they should have done instead of going after clearly innocent Eddie. So Eddie becomes a PI to find this anonymous tipper. Featuring Mystery Writer Steve, who will play into the later plot. ;)

You will see snippets of Steve as the story goes on, but it will be Eddie's story for about 2/3 of it. It is also set in canon time for reasons that will become clear as the story goes on.

Interviewer: I’m here with Steve Harrington who has put just put out his seven novel in the thrilling Joe Keery books, ‘The Hollow Promise’. How are you this morning?

Steve chuckled: I’m tired. I’m a writer, I spend all my nights writing and my days sleeping, so this is a little outside my normal waking hours.

Interviewer: Gosh I wish I could do that, but I chose to have a morning talk show instead. Won’t you tell the listeners about your latest book.”

Steve: It’s about a series of murders in a small town and our hero comes to town to investigate and finds a bigger mystery than he anticipated.

Eddie’s life went to hell the day Steve Harrington blew town. Not that he would find that out until years later. But then again people were more preoccupied with Robin Buckley swearing up and down that Jason Carver who had been trying to kill her and not Eddie than remember a kid being thrown out of his parents place for being gay so... yeah.

Well, okay, so his life had been hell a little bit before Steve blew town. But that wasn’t as interesting an opening as the day Steve blew town. So he still had a flare for the dramatic, sue him. After all it was that flare that made him become a private investigator in the first place.

When Chrissy Cunningham had been murdered just after Eddie dealt her Special K, that made him the prime suspect in her death.

Which, rude.

She had been dealing with some pretty fucked up shit. Like being queer in a small town levels of shit on top of her mom being constantly on about her weight and her boyfriend pressuring her wear a promise ring. In high school.

Then another student died. A boy on the basketball team, Patrick McKinney, who someone else claimed had bought steroids off Eddie. Which couldn’t have been true, not if it was performance enhancing drugs. He had offered to sell them to high schoolers when he first started dealing, but Rick assured him he already had someone for that.

Then another girl died. Someone Eddie hadn’t known. He knew of her. But she wasn’t even in any of his classes, in any of his senior years. She also didn’t do drugs. Hell, Molly Masters was a known Straight Edger. She wouldn’t have gone near Eddie unless she wanted to throw hands.

Which is why he was blamed for her death, actually. They insinuated that she had finally had enough of his drug dealing ways and had gone after him.

He even had an alibi for that one, not that it mattered. Playing in front of five random drunks and a stingy ass bartender wasn’t exactly as air tight as it could have been. Because as far as witnesses go, they were pretty shit.

Then Barb Holland died. And that was a kick in the teeth. He knew who she was but only in a tenuous ‘best friend of the girlfriend of the most popular boy in school’ kind of way. Eddie was starting to see the pattern, even if the cops didn’t.

Then the final one which ended in the death of Jason Carver, Chrissy’s boyfriend. Only Robin Buckley was still very much alive.

But for the those first three days, she was in a coma. So the police spun the narrative that Eddie had been trying to kill her when Jason had interrupted them; saving her life, but losing his in the process.

Until she woke up and blew the whole investigation out of the water.

“I’m telling you Jason Carver was trying to kill me,” she said for the tenth time to a motley crew of Hopper, Powell, and Callahan from her hospital bed.

“Now why would he go and do a thing like that for?” Powell huffed. “Jason was a good, upstanding young man. Captain of the basketball team. He loved Chrissy. He wouldn’t hurt her. Not for anything.”

Robin let out a long sigh of frustration and buried her head in her hands. She looked up at them, weighing her options before she finally snapped, “Because I’m a lesbian!”

They stared at her blankly.

“Apparently Chrissy was too and that’s why he killed her.”

“You telling me that Jason Carver, all American boy next door was a murderer killing queer kids?” Callahan huffed in disbelief. “There’s no way.”

“And I’m telling you it’s true,” Robin hissed. “Plus whoever saved my life and killed the rat bastard wasn’t Eddie Munson.” She crossed her arms over her chest and settled into the bed, grumpy.

Hopper pinched his nose. “Let’s say we follow this line of inquiry, why do you believe Eddie Munson wasn’t involved at all. You keep saying you never saw your rescuer’s face.”

She looked up at him like he was stupid. “Because the guy that took the bat to Jason’s head was wearing a short sleeve shirt.”

The cops all looked at each other in confusion.

Robin threw her arms up in the air. “No tattoos, assholes! Eddie very famously has bats on his...” she looked at her own arms for a second, “right forearm. And whoever this Jesus with a bat was, he didn’t have any tattoos on his arm.”

“Robin!” her mother admonished. Melissa Buckley was there to ensure that the police didn’t try and twist Robin’s words into saying something that wasn’t true.

Robin just shrugged, unrepentant. They were being assholes and someone should tell them to their faces.

“Well, shit!” Powell snapped, throwing his hands into the air in frustration. “If it wasn’t Eddie then who the fuck was it?”

Just then the door to Robin’s room burst open, startling all those inside. Officer Glenn Daniels came running up to Chief Hopper, a large envelope in his hands.

“Florence got this this morning,” Daniels said, panting for breath. “And we wanted to verify its authenticity before bringing it to you. So me and couple of the other officers looked into it.”

Hopper opened the envelope, his eyes growing wider the more and more he looked through it. “And how much it of is accurate?”

“All of it.”

“There is no way,” Hopper growled, slamming the envelope on Powell’s chest. “No evidence is that air tight. There must be some kind mistake or error in there somewhere.”

Powell took the envelope and looked down into it. His eyebrows shot up. “There are actual fucking writings by Carver in here. Where the hell did they find those?”

Daniels just shook his head. “Whoever found this shit was meticulous. There are no other fingerprints than Jason’s on anything. But there is a letter.”

Powell went searching through the envelope and pulled it out, handing it to the Chief, who read it, mumbling to himself.

“Well, as much as I would like to say the bastard is wrong,” Hopper said with a resigned sigh. “He’s not. Or she or whatever. They’re not wrong. The victims wouldn’t have gotten justice, not with them being queer. Jason would have been lauded a hero and paraded in the streets for taking out the trash.”

“‘To the police,” Powell read out loud. “I am sending you all the evidence you failed to collect when you were too busy trying to pin these murders on an innocent man. It didn’t take a lot to realize the true connection the victims had. I’m just sorry I was too late to save Molly Masters. She didn’t deserve to die in that horrible way.

“Once I figured out who it was, I knew that there would be no justice for these kids. Not when Jason Carver was who he was, and why he was killing his peers. So I quietly compiled all the evidence I could. His journals. His distinct lack of alibis for any of the murders. His emotional connection to the first victim, his girlfriend, Chrissy Cunningham.

“I’m just glad I was able to stop him from killing that final girl. But if she did die later, I hope Carver rots in the hell of his own making. No one deserves to die because of who they love.

“-Jason’s Executioner.”

“Well, that ain’t creepy as shit,” Callahan said sarcastically. “Well it’s not as though we could have used any of this evidence anyway.”

“And when is Eddie Munson being released?” Melissa huffed, pulling herself up to her nearly six feet of height.

Hopper blinked at her for a moment. “I’m not sure I understand the question, ma’am.”

“That boy is innocent!” Melissa said sternly. “And what? You’re going to just sweep this all under the rug and leave Jason Carver’s reputation intact?”

“That’s not what I said,” Hopper replied, low and dangerous. “And I don’t appreciate you putting words into my mouth.”

Melissa crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down.

“He is innocent of the murders, yes,” he said, “but he still sold an underaged girl ketamine. And last time I checked that was still very much against the law.”

“I don’t believe you actually have proof of that,” Melissa said with a winning smile.

“He confessed,” Powell said in confusion. “We have it on record of him confessing to selling the drugs.” He put his hands on his hips. “There’s no way he’s not going away for the drugs.”

“Under duress,” Melissa said smugly. “Which any lawyer worth his salt will get tossed out in a heartbeat. You have nothing on the boy and you know it.”

Robin grinned up at her. “Isn’t she so cool? And she’s my mom!”

“Stop calling him a boy!” Callahan hissed. “He’s twenty! He knew full well what he was doing and I’m not going to stand here and let you pretend otherwise.”

Melissa scoffed, eyeing him up and down with a raised eyebrow. “I’d call your dog to heel there, Chief, we wouldn’t want me to scream police intimidation, now would we?”

“Don’t make me arrest you, Mel,” Hopper growled. “Again.”

Melissa grinned up at the chief. They had been on very opposite sides of the Vietnam War. Him having been in the army and her having been in the protests against the War. Hawks and Doves.

“And just what would be the charge this time, Chief?” she asked with a wink.

Hopper squeezed his eyes closed and then opened them slowly. He let out a long exasperated sigh. “Eddie Munson will be released without charges by the end of today.”

But before his underlings could protest he held up his hands. “It’s either release him and sweep under the rug that some rank amateur or we don’t release him and Melissa here goes to the press about how we put away an innocent man and get the national media up in our business.”

They stared at him for a moment before they grumbling agreed. Hopper bid the Buckleys goodbye and then led his officers out the room.

So how did Eddie know all this? He talked to Hopper, Daniels and the Buckleys and while some details varied they pretty much confirmed that how it went down and how Eddie got out on a ‘technicality’ as the cops were calling it.

When he stepped out into the fresh air outside of the jail with Wayne waiting for him, he took a deep breath and let it go.

“I don’t know how you can stand living in this hell hole,” he groused as he hopped into Wayne’s truck.

“Can’t afford to leave,” Wayne huffed and started the truck. “If I could scrape up the money to get out of here, I would and I’d take you with me.”

Eddie gave his uncle’s shoulder a squeeze. “Maybe I’ll be able to get a job and get enough money for both of us out.”

“If wishes were horses,” Wayne said ruefully as he pulled out into traffic. “I’m just glad you were released without charges.”

“You and me both, old man,” Eddie huffed. “I was sure I was going to be Reading, Pennsylvania, Short Line and B&O railroaded.”

“Good thing Melissa Buckley was there when they interrogated her daughter,” Wayne growled. “Or you might still be sitting in that cell.”

“I hope you sent her flowers,” Eddie said. “She certainly deserves it.”

“Delilahs and some of my grandma’s shortbread,” Wayne confirmed. “I even offered to help out any handwork they may need in the future too. And if I were you I’d offer your way around an engine too.”

Eddie saluted. “Aye, Aye!”

Wayne snorted. “If the way she tells it is true, some rookie wannabe detective is the one that provided the most damning evidence against that Carver kid.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Eddie said with a snort. “These backwater cops wouldn’t know their ass from their elbow.”

“Still it makes you wonder who it was...” Wayne said softly as they turned into the trailer park.

“It certainly does that,” Eddie agreed. “It certainly does that.”

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

I am ridiculously pleased with the railroad joke. It still makes me smile every time.

Tag List: TEN SLOTS OPEN

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #mystery writer steve harrington #private investigator eddie munson #white knight steve harrington #actually billy hargrove friendly #are you as shocked as I am?

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ohnoitstbskyen · 1 year ago

Note

So, considering what's going on with Riot right now, do you think Arcane Season 2 got caught up in all of this restructuring?

Yes and no. Arcane season 2 is part of the reason for the restructuring.

As I understand it, internally at Riot, after Arcane was a huge (and more importantly: prestigious!) success, the decision was made to basically hand the entirety of the game's lore and story over to the Entertainment division within Riot. These are the people in large part responsible for projects like Arcane, K/DA, Heartsteel, that animated series China got, all that sort of thing.

The writers at Riot were basically told to flat out stop producing new content and lore for the game - that's why there's BEEN no new story content for League for over a year - because everything was going to be consolidated under the Entertainment division from now on. This is why Riot started talking about "One Runeterra" and "Arcane is going to be canon" and so on.

The success of Arcane convinced executives that what League of Legends needs is a singular cohesive brand with its most successful public property leading the charge, Arcane is going to be the gateway drug, the hook on the end of the line that brings new players and new paying customers into the exciting world of the League of Legends multimedia IP universe!

Nevermind that Arcane's story and worldbuilding is fundamentally incompatible with >checks notes< the overwhelming majority of Runeterra as it exists and enormous compromises would have to be made to either the world of Runeterra or Arcane itself to make it work. Arcane is the big shiny prestigious mainstream Emmy-award winning project that every executive wants to put their name next to, and like companies Pivoting To Video in 2015 because Facebook showed them inflated viewership stats, Riot Games is Pivoting To Arcane. It's better than them pivoting to crypto and NFTs, at least, although I know for a fact that high ranking people at Riot tried to make that happen too.

Now, the primary cause for all of these games industry layoffs is that interest rates aren't zero anymore. Borrowing money isn't free, the curve of constant growth has ever so slightly slowed, taking on debt is becoming a little tiny bit more risky than it was previously, and corporations are responding to this with massive rounds of layoffs and constriction to show "financial responsibility" and prove to shareholders that they are prioritizing core growth strategies and blah blah blah etc. They're also trying to kneecap the growing labor movement in the games industry and exert downwards pressure on wages, but the interest rates seem to have been the main thing.

In Riot's particular case, a secondary reason is they want to pivot the focus of the company to support their One Runeterra pipe dream, so a lot of the people who got fired at Riot are writers, artists, creative leads and sometimes extremely senior and successful staff who are now surplus to requirements. This is also why Riot shut down Riot Forge in the same round of layoffs - can't have a bunch of talented indie devs going off making video games that don't adhere to the new One Runeterra policy. What if someone played Mageseeker and got confused how there can be mages all over Demacia but somehow there are no mages in Arcane's Piltover and Zaun. That's a plot hole! People write snarky articles about that sort of thing. It turns off new consumers! What if Cinema Sins makes a video making fun of it?!?

So yeah. A bunch of cocaine-addled fame hungry executive vultures at Riot are absolutely gagging on their own d*cks to put their name next to Arcane related projects, and since they were going to be screwing hundreds of people out of their careers, healthcare, and in some cases their fucking visa status anyway, it seems to have presented a nice opportunity to clear the board for their latest Visionary Scheme for the company IP.

That is as I understand the situation, anyway. I'm a bitter old man and most of what I hear is second hand and anonymous gossip through my social networks, take what I say with a grain of salt, but I've followed this company for (oh god) twelve years now and I have developed a tragically keen understanding of how its executive class operates.

#league of legends #riot games #arcane #arcane season 2 #runeterra #games industry #layoffs

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bwobgames · 1 month ago

Text

It’s 10:50 pm

“Hey, how did it go. Are you alright with the kid or do we need to sleep with one eye open?”

“We’re good now”

“Although now I owe Sebastián a favour”

“Huh? Was he there?”

“Ah, well, he cleared some of my points”

“Man, perhaps I really should hire you as my social situation interpreter”

“Oh baby, for you it’s all free”

“You’re insufferable”

“Heehoo”

“Eepy time, then? Two Mimir? Did you brush your teeth on the way? I’m already done with my skincare routine”

“Yeah…”

He puts on his pyjama and sits for a little while.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah, nothing. I just… been thinking”

“About your dad again?”

“About the house.”

“Did you… feel something?”

“No but, what if this is, let’s say, some kind of evolution?”

“A sneakier house?”

“Maybe.”

“Remember when we analysed the doctor’s investigations? The feeling we proposed it might be?”

“Grief.”

“I fear that. If we or our friends or the other passengers or by accident…!”

“If someone breaks the current purpose, could we…?”

“Could someone accidentally give it a new one with their grief?”

“Are you thinking of someone specifically? Nina, maybe?”

“Ah, well, this thing is hosting a ton of people so, possibilities are not zero”

“Oliver. Do you think you…?”

“No.”

“No. I have nothing to grieve for. It’s been plenty of time already.”

“It’s not even been a month”

“I know. But by any means, I shouldn’t be grieving”

“Grandma lived a long and fulfilling life. She had her chickens. She had her family. She had just enough to be happy.”

“She never had to worry about the city life, content with the wonders of the south”

“Everyone got to see her at the hospital. And she died in her sleep. The most peaceful way to go”

“You even got to meet her. To talk to her. To know her. And she liked you”

“She liked you enough to ask to come by next year...”

“Oliver…”

“And she would’ve hated for us to be sad. She would’ve wanted us to throw a party instead of a gloomy funeral. To remember her as she wanted to.”

“By all means, I have no reason to be sad.”

“…But then why it still hurts so much…?”

The pressure in his chest, silently present since that day, grew tenfold.

He felt his as if his heart was painfully pumping tears out of his eyes.

It hurt. Even deeper than his chest. His heart. His soul.

For a second, he feared getting completely engulfed on it.

Until

A heart next to his, separated by a pair of ribcages.

“It that happens. I’ll fix it”

“I’ll buy this whole train if necessary. I’ll live in it. I’ll change it.”

“So, don’t bottle this up any longer, okay?”

“Grieve as much as you need. I’ll take care of the rest”

He thought he couldn’t cry any harder. He was wrong.

Grasping into Ángel, as if trying to completely unite their hearts, he let himself feel.

He misses her. He misses her. He can’t visit anymore. He doesn’t know what happened to the animals. He wishes he did more.

But the pain doesn’t eat him whole. There is a warmth to it.

A warmth embracing him, shielding him, applying a new pressure. A welcome one.

When he looked at that sunrise, he imagined a bright future. A perfect future.

One where Mozilla didn’t get sick. One where he wasn’t afraid of heights. One where he didn’t have nightmares.

One where everyone he loves lives forever.

Accepting reality used to be easier. When he wasn’t fragmented.

When he wasn’t haunting any buildings.

He should’ve spent more time with her.

He should’ve known, more than anyone, the importance of time.

He feels a kiss on his temple

“We’ll visit her, yeah? Every year. We’ll bring the prettiest flowers”

“She gave me her lemon pie recipe. I know I’m not the best, but”

“I’ll do everything to make it perfect”

This is the reality he lives in. And it’s the best it has ever gotten.

His pain might never pass. Part of him doesn’t want it to.

But it will always be cushioned around strong arms.

Accompanied by another beating heart, two ribcages away.

One day the pressure will be lighter, accompanied by joyful nostalgia. That day is clearly not today.

But he will look at the sunshine once more. Even if it’s cloudy.

He can be brave.

Because he knows that there will be times where he doesn’t have to.

His tears are not yet done with him, so he stays.

Ángel gently sways him side to side. It makes him sleepy.

Who could’ve thought that a busy day travelling and emotional turmoil would make him tired?

He closes his eyes and dozes off.

It’s 11 pm

#all for today #if i dont cry while writing a sad scene then its not working.#also. dont worry about the timeskip. dont worry about it. just dont worry.#detective beebo overnight train

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g1rld1ary · 1 year ago

Text

you never disappointed me - part two

part one part two part three part four

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; percy and beckendorf's plan to set you up with luke is in motion, but you're extremely resistant to any advances (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 3462

➻ warnings: swearing, ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, sexual innuendos

➻ thank u so much for all the love on part 1 I am such a happy gal!!!!! also, have my first day at uni tomorrow (so pls wish me luck) and sorry if updates slow down!

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It turned out that getting you to go out with Luke was harder than he’d originally anticipated. Eager for the whole ordeal to be over and for him to be 50 dollars richer, he’d hopped down from his spot on a fallen log and hurried to meet you by the volleyball courts when your match ended. You, unaware of Luke’s agenda, were fanning your face to combat some of the sweat that had accumulated, quickly tightening the messy ponytail you’d tied. Luke watched you in your own world, unbothered by anybody watching you, unlike the rest of your siblings. Sucking in a quick breath for confidence he approached you.

“Hey there, girly,” He smiled, “How’re you doing?” You looked up at him, inquisitive for a moment but ultimately unimpressed.

“Sweating like a pig actually, and yourself?” You were barely looking at him, skulling an impressive amount of your water bottle quickly. He stared at you, not expecting to be dismissed so easily. He recovered smoothly, not prepared to give up so soon.

“You really know how to get a guy’s attention, huh?”

“My mission in life,” You shot him a cloying smile, now giving him your full attention, unable to help being slightly interested by his boldness. “But obviously I’ve struck your fancy, so you see it worked. The world makes sense again.” You‘d figured out his motives now and had no interest, so began the walk back to your cabin. He followed, much to your dismay. Couldn’t men ever take the hint?

“So I’ll pick you up Friday then?”

“Oh right, Friday, uh huh.” You kept your eyes ahead, dodging a few younger kids as Luke trailed after you, annoyingly optimistic still.

“The night I take you places you’ve never been before,” He said, and you looked at him in disbelief. The ego on this kid!

“Right, like the makeout clearing in the forest? Do you even know my name, Castellan?” Luke could tell that you were mocking him, but he still had high hopes.

“I know a lot more than you think.” He smiled then, a lopsided thing that would have been somewhat charming if you’d actually bothered to look. Instead you were already walking away, calling out a “Doubtful. Very doubtful,” over your shoulder as you picked up into a run, presumably to go tell Clarisse about the bizarre experience you just had. Luke watched you go, dumbstruck in the middle of camp.

Percy and Beckendorf watched the exchange from the porch of the Hephaestus cabin, the latter putting his head in his hands dramatically.

“We’re screwed,” He groaned and Percy winced slightly.

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine, dude. Luke has faced a lot worse than a teenage girl.”

When you sat at dinner that night, desperately avoiding the eye contact Luke seemed desperate on initiating, you almost told Silena about your bizarre day. You’d opened your mouth to start the story when you realised that she’d only be encouraged by Luke’s antics, pressuring you into going out with him for her own benefit and quickly shut it. She’d noticed your odd behaviour and searched for meaning in your face. Panicking for something to replace the conversation, you zeroed in on the necklace sitting nicely on top of her camp one.

“Where’d you get the pearls?” You asked, already dreading the answer. Silena only confirmed your fears, claiming them as your grandmother’s with a coy smile.

“So what? You’ve just been hiding them the last three years?” You were always closest with your grandmother, and you were sure she wouldn’t leave her favourite pearls for Silena over you.

“Daddy found them in a drawer just before summer.” Silena shrugged as if you weren’t sitting across from her, cheeks a blotchy red in your upset. “Besides, they look good on me.” Your hands itched to hit her as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, knowing exactly how much she was pissing you off.

“Trust me, they don’t,” You spat, quietly glad when Silena stalked off in a huff, amongst the first to leave the meal. You didn’t know how much longer you could argue with her before starting to cry, which you really didn’t want to do in front of the whole camp. You thought you were safe for the rest of the meal when Drew began speaking instead.

“You could try being nice sometimes, you know, people wouldn’t know what to think.” You rolled your eyes aggressively.

“You forget, I don’t care what people think,” You replied, taking in a spoonful of food.

“Yes you do. Everyone does. You know, with a new look you could have some serious potential.” You ignored her last statement.

“No, I don’t,” You emphasised, “You don’t always have to be who they want you to be.” You knew that wouldn’t impact Drew in the slightest, but you hoped it might resonate with some of your younger siblings — encourage them to nurture their internal beauty rather than accept the vain stereotype Aphrodite children were forced into. You pushed yourself out of the bench you were sitting on, needing a break from your insufferable siblings. As you dumped your dishes where they needed to be you saw Luke beginning to follow you and turned to make dead eye contact. Knowing you’d only scream at him (or worse) you gave him a dangerous look, accompanied with an almost imperceptible shake of your head. Not enough for anyone else to know you’d even acknowledged him, but enough to tell Luke to back off. He was smarter than you thought, as he held up his hands in a show of surrender, redirecting his action to innocently collect up his own dishes.

You may not have had any interest in knowing the boy, but you did appreciate that he knew when to back off. Or so you thought.

You were proven not-so-free from Luke Castellan the very next morning. It was the Aphrodite cabin’s day to check all the storerooms, and you’d volunteered to do the one which held all the weapons and armour near the sword fighting arena. You knew none of your siblings would come near if they could help it, mostly against weapons and the violence that surrounded the area, so you’d get a whole morning alone. It was peaceful attending to the chore, and you were allowed to use some of your Aphrodite eye for beauty. Of course, stacks of swords and assorted weapons could only be made so pretty, but you enjoyed organising them into neat rows, making it look as nice as possible — not that you would admit that to Silena or you’d be in her vanity chair receiving an unwelcome makeover in seconds.

You were just admiring your own sword, which you’d taken the time to polish while you were taking care of the others, when you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t react, assuming it was just some camper coming for a weapon, until he spoke.

“Nice sword, vintage hilt?” You tensed as Luke’s voice infiltrated your peace.

“Are you following me?” You disregarded his statement, an unimpressed frown present on your lips.

“I was training in the arena and needed to polish my sword. I saw you come in a while ago and not leave, I came to say hi,” He explained, and you raised an eyebrow. You weren’t friends, why would he come for a chat?

“Hi.” You promptly turned back to your task, shoving the cloth into the intricate designs of the hilt.

“Not a big talker, huh?” He persisted.

“Depends on the topic. My sword doesn’t exactly whip me into a verbal frenzy.” That wasn’t strictly true — the sword was a gift from your mother, with gold twisting around a blood red ruby in the centre of the hilt. After you’d made it clear that you weren’t going to just sit around during your time at camp she gifted you the sword, her way of saying that if you were going to fight, you should at least look good doing it. You’d had several conversations with Clarisse gushing over the intricacy of it, and profusely thanked Aphrodite for the gift in your offerings. You didn’t quite care to share this with Luke, being a relative stranger.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He asked, and you were somewhat taken aback by the earnest tone of his voice.

“Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?” You couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that crept into your sentence.

“Most people are.” He gestured subtly towards his scar — gnarled and twisted against his otherwise tanned skin. You put a hand on your hip, resigned to conversation now.

“Well, I’m not.”

“Ok, maybe you’re not afraid of me, but I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked.” You were pretty sure Luke was going for smooth or charming, but you thought in this moment he was entirely lame. The wink didn’t help his case.

“Am I that transparent? I want you, I need you. Oh baby, oh baby.” You put on your best Drew impression, nasally and whiny, before handing him the cloth he needed to polish his own sword and turning to leave. There, quickly approaching the door, was Ethan. Seeing you he put on a disgusting smirk and blocked the doorway, effectively caging you into the storeroom.

“Gods, what is it, asshole day?” You asked, not caring that both boys could very clearly hear you. “Do you mind?” You gestured to his blocking the exit. He simply looked down at you, clearly doing his best to appear sexy (and failing miserably).

“Not at all.” His stupid smirk was going to kill you, and not in the good way. You scoffed, giving him a last chance to get the fuck out of your way. Then, sparing a fraction of a glance back to Luke pretending to mind his own business, you slammed the hilt of your sword into his foot, wishing it was the blade instead. You watched him crumble to the ground, holding his foot with both hands.

“You bitch!” He yelled, voice cracking pathetically in the middle. You forced your smile to stay contained.

“Oops,” You feigned innocence, one hands covering your mouth strategically. “You might need some ambrosia for that…” With that you side-stepped him, eager to leave the situation. If you’d have looked back, you would have seen the gleeful, disbelieving smile on Luke’s face, probably the biggest one he’d worn in a while. Although he didn’t get the date he’d entered for, he was beginning to think you were a little more interesting than you let on.

“Did you just cripple Ethan?” Silena shrieked as you entered your cabin to grab your things. “He’s a model, you can’t do that! Has it escaped your notice that you’re completely psychotic?” You pretended to think for a moment, then shrugged nonchalantly.

“Guess your long walks on the beach are gonna have to wait,” You sighed dramatically, leaving Silena to wallow in her pity alone. It wasn’t like it was really your fault — if Ethan had learned how to respond to words or learn the meaning of ‘move’ he wouldn’t have gotten himself into that situation in the first place.

Meanwhile, Ethan and Luke were having a similarly emotional conversation after Luke had — very reluctantly — helped Ethan over to the infirmary to get his foot checked out.

“When I shell out fifty, I expect results.” Luke sighed, could this boy get any whinier?

“Yeah, I’m on it,” He said through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to hurt him.

“Watching that bitch obliterate my foot doesn’t count as a date. If you don’t get any, I don’t get any, so let’s get some,” Ethan said, running a hand through his ridiculously styled hair. Luke couldn’t believe his nerve. First of all, obliterated? He would be left with a bruise for a few days, if anything. Secondly, this whole things was Ethan’s idea, Luke had never given any indication wanting to ‘get some’, especially not with someone so clearly resisting his advances. Just as Ethan left, giving the Apollo girl treating him a douchebag smile, Luke hardened his resolve.

“I just upped my price,” He said, loving the way Ethan’s eyes widened like a cartoon character. “A hundred bucks a date, in advance.”

“Forget it,” Ethan grumbled, moving to leave again.

“Forget her sister then.” The two boys stared at each other, one significantly more amused than the other. Luke knew he had the upper hand in the dynamic, something he revelled in. Then, after the intimidation tactic clearly wasn’t having any effect, Ethan reached for his wallet, Luke admiring the crisp fifty he was handed.

“You better hope you’re as smooth as you think you are, Castellan.” Luke just watched him go, confident tilt of his head conveying his outlook on the situation.

Luke had taken his usual spot overseeing combat training, but his usual thoughts were long gone. Instead, he was entirely preoccupied with you. He didn’t know how to get you to go out with him when you could barely entertain a conversation, and he twirled his cigarette between his fingers as he pondered.

Percy and Beckendorf saw his internal conflicts, slowly moving closer to him under the guise of a very chaotic fight between the two. Finally Luke gave them attention, knowing Percy’s skills would never have him running all over the place like that. He raised an eyebrow, a sign for them to get on with whatever they were angling at.

“We know what you’re trying to do, for Beauregard,” Percy said, and Luke appeared almost startled.

“And we want to help,” Added Beckendorf helpfully, shying away when Luke’s eyes bore into his.

“And why would you do that?”

“Beckendorf here has a major crush on Silena—”

“Gods, what is it with this girl? Does she sweat nectar?” Beckendorf opened his mouth to protest when Percy spoke over him, knowing it would be more beneficial to let Luke lead.

“Look, I think we can both tell that Charlie’s love is pure, well-intentioned, better than, say, Ethan White?” Luke sighed, catching on.

“I’m in this for the cash, that’s it. Who Ethan wants to bang is of no interest to me.”

“There will be no banging!” Beckendorf cried as Percy pushed him behind. He was no use in a delicate situation like this.

“Ok, Luke, it’s just that we’re the masterminds behind this whole thing. We set it up so Beckendorf can get the girl — Ethan’s just a pawn.” Luke paid closer attention suddenly, intrigued by the chess match he’d been pulled into.

“So you two are gonna help me win her over?”

“We’ll do research, find out what she likes. We can be your guys on the inside.”

“In a strictly non-mission type of way,” Beckendorf added helpfully, nervous of the legends he’d heard about Luke’s failed quest. Luke chose to simply ignore that comment, and Percy filled the silence before he could get angry about it.

“Let’s just start here: the Apollo cabin is throwing a party on Friday night, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

“I’ll think about it,” Was all Luke said, a clear signal the conversation was over. Percy and Beckendorf returned to fighting, slightly more regulated now they had gotten what they’d wanted, and Luke brought the cigarette back up to his lips, new thoughts clouding his mind.

Meanwhile, Ethan had found Silena where she was known to hang out by the rocks near the lake. He was hovering next to her, providing snatches of shade as he performed pose after pose, claiming he had a modelling job lined up when he left for the year.

“So which do you like better?” He asked, moving his hands fractionally to the left of his chin.

“The second,” Silena giggled, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “It’s more… pensive.”

“Damn,” Ethan kicked the sand softly. “I was going for thoughtful. So, you going to the Apollo party on Friday?”

“Maybe.” She produced her best coy smile, looking up at him from behind her lashes.

“Good, ‘cause you know I’ll only bother if you’re there.” Silena smiled, getting up from her spot on the rock.

“Bye.” Her voice was airy in the way she knew drove boys mad. She walked away leaving Ethan wanting more, her specialty. You scoffed, catching the end of the exchange. You and Silena made momentary eye contact, tension thick between the two of you.

As Beckendorf approached Silena, fishing for more information about you, Ethan had caught you in his sights and wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

“You sister is so cute,” His voice infiltrated your bubble in a way that made you want to hit him so desperately. “Doesn’t have your bite though, a feisty woman is so sexy.” You knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you, but it was so close to working.

“Come any closer and I’ll show you just how feisty I can get,” You snapped, braid almost whacking him in the face as you turned to face him. You could have sworn Ethan looked afraid for a second before he covered it with bravado.

“One day you’re gonna realise that all of this hostility is just your sexual repression. Don’t worry, babe, I’ll be waiting with open arms… And legs.” You almost threw up.

“Gods, can’t you just leave me alone, asshole?” You yelled, trying to push past him to get anywhere else.

“C’mon, don’t be a prude,” He whined, and you were really close to taking him to the ground — not in the way he wanted.

“You heard the girl,” A voice called from behind you, and instantly Ethan took a step back. “She wants you to leave her alone.” Luke appeared behind you, a respectful distance away whilst still making his intentions clear. Ethan shrunk back into himself, making a lame excuse as to why he had to leave, hurriedly fleeing the beach. Reluctantly, you turned to face Luke.

“I’m not going out with you just for that,” You said plainly, daring him to try again.

“You think that low of me?” He laughed, dark eyes sparkling with mirth. You forced yourself not to notice. “I don’t have to want something from you to know that Ethan White isn’t worth your time.” It was your turn to be embarrassed at that, feeling slightly narcissistic for assuming that was the purpose of the conversation (it was, but Luke sure as hell wasn’t going to ruin his chances because you were in a mood, justified or otherwise).

“Oh.” You stared at his shoes. “Well, thanks, I guess.” You moved to leave but Luke stopped you, hand not quite touching your arm, unwilling to have it bitten off.

“So you do have a heart!” He joked, signature grin on his face. You wondered why you were seeing so much of it lately when he’d been so dour since his quest.

“Ha! You wish.”

“Don’t try to hide it, Beauregard, you’re warming up to me.”

“I’d sooner fuck Mister D,” You replied, actually taking your leave.

Luke watched you go, chewing his lip between his teeth. There was more to you than you let on, he was sure of it. He wouldn’t say it was any fondness, but he was starting to have a curiosity attaching itself to this scheme, and he knew that going out with you would satisfy it. He should have known having any personal stakes involved — sentimental or otherwise — would get dangerous.

Your own thoughts had barely budged on Luke. He was still a pain in your side and you figured you knew what kind of guy he was — not the type you had any interest in. Still, you couldn’t deny that you were appreciative he’d saved you from Ethan (and the inevitable washing up duty you’d be punished with when you beat him up), so maybe he wasn’t quite as despicable as you’d initially judged him to be. Close, though.

part three

#giasfics˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀#love #luke castellan #pjo series #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo fandom #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson show #percy jackson #percy series #percy pjo #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #percy jackson tv show

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yuesya · 6 months ago

Text

A startled shout rips its way out of Imunlaukr’s throat, and he scrambles to escape from the deluge of ice and snow thundering down upon them all.

Decarabian had warned them that it would be dangerous –but not all had heeded their warning. Imunlaukr among them; as the one who’d entreated for the god to come to Sal Vindagnyr to save them, he felt that… he had a duty, to remain and see things through to the end.

And of the Mondstadtian knights who followed Decarabian, there were also those who continued to press onwards at their god’s side. Decarabian had not spoken any further after their warning, allowing them to make their own choice.

Which was a curious thing –ordinarily, a god would simply order those who followed them when they perceived ‘human foolishness,’ but from what he had seen Decarabian had never–

“RUN FASTER!” A sharp voice barks into his ear, causing Imunlaukr to jolt slightly from the sudden volume and close proximity of it. Knight-Captain Gerhard grabs his arm, yanking him along, “The mountain is–!”

With an earth-shaking, thunderous groan, the entire cavern collapses on top of them–

Or it would’ve, if a sudden Anemo-laced wind had not swept them off their feet and blasted them through the crumbling ice and stone, dumping them out on the open snowy mountainside.

Heart pounding heavily in his chest and gasping as the icy wind of the biting air cuts into his face, Imunlaukr immediately looks upwards into the sky.

Decarabian floats in the air, long black hair whipping out wildly behind them as the winds howl around them. They raise their blade, and swing down–

And the Divine Nail splits.

Imunlaukr sees it.

With a thunderous crack that echoes in the land around them, the Divine Nail splits into three separate sections. The backlash of it blows outwards like an invisible pulse of pressure, sending Imunlaukr crashing to the ground amid the sudden blizzard that picks up sharply –most certainly not a coincidence, not with this timing.

The Divine Nail trembles, and the entire mountain shakes with it.

Decarabian throws their arm back in a flinging motion, and with another pulse of powerful Anemo energy, proceeds to scatter the shattered pieces of the Divine Nail.

Hope, joyous and wild, races through Imunlaukr at the sight–

But from the cavernous fissure from where the Divine Nail had pierced down deep into the ground, there is suddenly a fountain of some –some strange, dark energy that rises in its place. The black-violet energy surges up, engulfing Decarabian entirely–

“No–!”

–and a massive pillar of lightning strikes down from the heavens, directly where Decarabian had once been. Directly atop the dark energy, smothering it just as it had swallowed Decarabian in turn.

Even from this distance, despite the wind and snow, Imunlaukr feels as if he’s being scorched. His eyes shut reflexively, for it’s too bright to watch–

And when it clears, when everything is still and silent again… there’s nothing.

Nothing.

…

Imunlaukr scrambles to his feet, and starts running. Half a heartbeat later, the Knight-Captain is racing behind him, both of them running towards the yawning pit once occupied by the Divine Nail, where Decarabian had vanished.

Decarabian– Had they–?

“My Lord!”

Imunlaukr pauses at the edge of the newly-formed ravine splitting the ground; Knight-Captain Gerhard, however, has zero compunctions about leaping in without a thought. The man pulls out his sword and drives it into the side of the pit as he falls, reducing the speed of his rapid descent ever so slightly as he chases after his god.

Imunlaukr grits his teeth, and follows.

It’s a dangerous, bumpy path down. Imunlaukr acquires several new injuries in the process, but perseveres. And at the very bottom of this rocky pit–

Decarabian.

Imunlaukr had thought that he would finally be able to breathe a sigh of relief upon finding the god, but…

But Decarabian is unconscious. There is no trace of that strange dark energy lingering anywhere anymore, but they’re unconscious, and–

There’s something strange happening to them. Their body is shrinking–

No, not just shrinking. It’s like they’re growing younger, the body of a youth becoming that of a young child once more. Their ink-black hair is changing color, shifting into ever-lighter shades of gray and becoming white by the end of it all.

Imunlaukr watches, frozen and stunned by the inexplicable sight in front of him, as Decarabian becomes a child.

The reflection of a god’s image… is also a representation of their power. Typically, a god who has reached maturity and is in the prime of their power wears the form of a youth, or adult. So for Decarabian to change like this, for Sal Vindagnyr–

“… No.” The utterance is soft, quiet. It slips from Imunlaukr’s lips without him even realizing it, not until the quiet whisper of No echoes back at him from the rocky cavern. “I… I never thought…”

“Save your words.” The Knight-Captain’s voice is frigid, severe. Imunlaukr dips his head, understanding the man’s cold rage. “What you just saw here –you must not utter a word of it to anyone. Do you understand?”

… Because Decarabian is a god of battle. The Great Hunter, who protects their people from dangerous monsters, and is the sworn enemy of Andrius, the Lord of Beasts. If it were to become known that Decarabian had been so severely weakened and was in a vulnerable state…!

Why?

Why did you do it? We… the people of Sal Vindagnyr aren’t your worshipers, nor your followers. So why would you… for Sal Vindagnyr… pay such a steep price?

…

“I understand,” Imunlaukr grips his hands into fists. “I and my entire bloodline, for as long as we exist in this world, will serve and protect Lord Decarabian and Mondstadt. This I so swear.”

#writing #zenith of stars au #mondstadt au #end to sal vindagnyr snippets #anyways #the answer to why imunlaukr clan is loyal to decarabian in this au #:3

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smokingasters · 25 days ago

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Some thoughts on Gino.

I’ve been reading PP Novel and I have been thinking about his character. I noticed that it is quite easy to forget that he’s even there, because S1 Gino’s struggles are internal. We see characters like Kou, Akane, Pops etc because their struggles are external. We see them taking action or behaving for/against the system.

Gino is a complex character bc he doesn’t want to doubt the system. He believes that the system is perfect, and he has issues with his father for going against the system. I notice that he puts pressure on himself to be the ideal citizen, who hides all their stress and keeps their PP clear while serving a demanding job of an Inspector.

Gino excludes anything that ‘doesn’t fit in his system, or in Sibyl’. It includes behaving harshly with Ko, Pops and Akane. His internal emotions of betrayal and the feeling that everyone is leaving his side surface as lashing out and criticism of those around him.

In the novel I find out that he was bullied as a child due to his father’s job, all the way to high school where Kogami defended him from his bullies. Kogami was the only one to reach out and accept him despite him being a child of a latent criminal. Gino thought Kogami was his best friend and it was Gino’s dream to become an Inspector and Kogami ends becoming an Inspector on a whim. There’s also a point in the novel where he thinks their friendship was one sided and that Kogami did not care about him. Gino often deals with feelings of jealousy against Kogami (PP Zero) as Sasayama observes and is often working under Kogami’s shadow, since Kogami is popular for his intelligence and proactive approach. Due to which I think most viewers/readers underestimate Gino’s true intellect.

I cannot really talk about Gino without involving Kogami, Akane and Pops. His relationship to them is fundamental to how he sees the world. I noticed that Gino was trying very hard not to become like his father. His outward rejection of Pops, was like a rejection of a part of himself. He wanted to deny the side that would eventually suspect the system, and he was self critical to the point of it being detrimental to his mental health.

He often judges Kogami for his close ties with other Enforcers (Sasayama becomes a huge bone of contention between the two in PP Zero). Gino repeatedly warns Kogami not to get too close to the Enforcers and eventually ends up feeling betrayed and alone after Kogami becomes an Enforcer. I wonder was Gino’s warning wrong? It’s easy to dismiss him because of character bias, but was his precaution and his careful approach towards Enforcers wrong?

I must highlight that even Akane ends up letting him down. I believe that when Akane joined the PSB, Gino thought he would have a partner that would help him manage the Division with his vision in mind. Akane however ends up going against Ginoza when she gets too close to the Enforcers and this is something that Gino disapproves of because he doesn’t want Akane to become like Kogami or his father. He worries a lot about Akane and we notice that even she disregards him and is not concerned about the impact her actions would have on him.

Gino worries about everyone, but no one worries about him. Pops tries but Gino doesn’t want to acknowledge him. Kogami is too wrapped up in chasing Makishima. Akane is too focused on her values and ideals of the Law. And Gino’s Psycho Pass keeping going up dangerously but no one notices the impact that their actions have on Gino. As a senior Inspector Gino fails to command the respect of his Enforcers or even his peers. It’s not a nice situation to be in.

Inside him there is still that child that felt neglected when his father became an Enforcer, and he had to take care of his mother who was sick due to Eustress Deficiency.

Gino wants to be an Inspector and he has the ability to solve crimes and enforce the law. He is a brilliant detective like his father. He wants to advance in the Ministry of Welfare. But after 8 years of his term, Kogami leaves the PSB. Gino’s PP rises and after his father’s death it is irrecoverable. He becomes an Enforcer. It’s not a bad ending because he’s still working with Akane but Gino’s life makes you think that if the Sibyl System owes an apology to one person it would be Gino. I definitely classify him as an innocent victim of the system, where he really did nothing wrong. He didn’t rebel. He didn’t argue or question the system. He was the citizen that the System failed.

And if a system keeps failing its law abiding innocent citizens should such a system be protected?

Honestly my heart aches for Gino, I think he deserves a happy ending.

#psycho pass #ginoza nobuchika #nobuchika ginoza #kougami shinya #kogami shinya #tsunemori akane #akane tsunemori #pp talk 🗣️

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thecoffeelorian · 5 months ago

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Anomaly (Jod Na X Reader)

A/N: I typed this out in the span of a morning on my phone, and then worked my way up from there. Anyways, to business...

Title: Anomaly

Chapter Title: The Stowaway

Genre: Drama/Romance

Word Count: 1,077 words

AO3: Click Here!

Special Notes: I have zero idea if Jod is going to be either the pirate I think he is or the ex-Jedi that others believe him to be...however, if none of these turn out to be true, then I'll just mark this as an AU and keep on trucking along. 'Nuff said!

No Pressure Tags: @ladysongmaster @braveincafleet @ireadwithmyears and anyone else who might want to catch the first-ever Jod Na x Reader story in this fandom! Thank you for your consideration!

ANOMALY

This doesn’t feel like the Great Work to me, you think to yourself, glancing around in silence as the Reclamation Committee gathers at At Attin’s first, and probably last, official spaceport. Originally, you would be deep into your latest pile of holo-work in the Undersecretary’s office, a half-drank cup of caf on your right and the few images of your surviving relatives sitting still upon your left.

Thanks to the curiosity of a handful of local children, however…everyone’s daily routine, yours included, has since been upended be it for better or for worse. In fact, the tension’s visible on everyone’s face as they await the incoming ship, and most likely for good reason—the ones said to be on board, at least in theory, are going to have a lot of explaining to do.

As for you, you’ve got both eyes upon your datapad screen like the good little Intern you are, making as many mental notes as possible while you wait. So far, according to the reports—or, at least, the official documents that you had been granted access to—all four of the missing children had been found safe; they had then been directed onto a secure flight back home; and, once the growing blur of that same flight could be seen from the platform and the volume of all human conversation around you grew alongside it, they would certainly be participating in a very long debriefing once those docking bay doors finally opened.

And yet...everything that you hadn’t been informed about becomes, as soon as the one known as Neel is the first to step off, pretty sparkling clear once the security droids all aim their weapons at the back of the ship.

“No, wait! Don’t hurt him, he’s a friend!”

To your surprise, if not also the surprise of everyone else around you, there was a fifth person on board. This person must have been halfway decent enough to keep this little group under their watchful eye, for the remaining kids still on the ship—Fern, Wim, and KB respectively—all add their voices to Neel’s protest as they’re coaxed onto the platform, Wim going so far as to try and pull the blaster out of a droid’s hands before a short pop of static electricity teaches him differently.

And, once those same droids give the order for them to come out with their hands up…your first sight of that fifth person all but takes your breath away.

Oh. Dear. Me.

Yes, there’s a man hiding back there, not some Wookiee in a fit of rage…but he’s not just any man as the ones among you already have been. No, this one has the equal look of both predator and prey written into his body language, for the look he gives the security team is nearly an even mix of one about to shoot down several live targets and one about to run for cover, almost like he's known both such situations in the course of his life...but isn't about to breathe a word of it.

To your growing sense of alarm, he’s also far too damned attractive for his own good, let alone yours. Sure, there are the signs of middle age upon him, why would there not be—and yet, other than the visible age lines upon his face, the stiffness in his steps, and the traces of silver within his hair, you just couldn’t stop yourself from running a visual scan of everything else he’d brought down to the surface. Things like...the hard set of his shoulders, the sharp outline of his jaw, and—worst of all—those startling blue eyes that you swore saw everything ahead, behind, and every other direction around him in a matter of seconds. Eyes that could see right through you if you’re foolish enough to let them, though you can only hope you never fall for any piece of this stranger’s charm, direct or otherwise.

And if that alone hadn’t somehow warned you in advance not to look too long, not to examine him too closely, and above all else, not to allow yourself to care too much about what might happen to this mysterious stranger…the reaction of the head droid would finally drive it all home.

”Jod Na Nawood, also known as ‘Crimson Jack’, also known as 'Captain Silvo', in the name of the Republic, you are hereby under arrest…”

Crimson Jack…? Captain Silvo? Him?! That one was the 'Thief Of A Thousand Treasures'?

You’d heard of a few stories about that scary figure, but that was all they were supposed to be. Stories. Legends. Tales one told to their children in order to get them to behave at the dinner table, and not real people of flesh, blood, and bone, because there were supposed to be no such thing.

Especially not away from the pages of a holobook, let alone outside of any datapad video feeds.

And yet…as this infamous Crimson Jack finally allowed the binders to be snapped around his wrists, one sad look sent towards the children before being taken into custody, it was here that you had to start asking yourself whether or not some of these stories were, in truth, full of facts as solid as durasteel—and if so, whether this stranger was truly as dangerous as the stories whispered in the dark made him out to be.

It would also be about a few seconds later that those startling blue eyes would just happen to meet yours, an even stranger feeling of both warmth and cool air pass between you like the rush of a long-dormant hyperdrive slowly working itself back up to full power and, finally, a phantom set of words echoing within your mind just as surely as if he had spoken them aloud.

I see you.

Several minutes would pass by until you snapped yourself out of your stunned silence and came back to reality, a few familiar faces around you making sure you were all right, that no tricks or funny business or strange arcane rituals had taken your mind over where you stood—and yet, for all of that, there was only one thought left in you, only one question that made sense—and so, even though this man was no longer in your sight, still you asked it out loud for everyone else to hear.

“And if I were to get inside your head, Mister ‘Crimson Jack’...what would I see?”

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itoukaiji · 27 days ago

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ok here it is

i have nothing to do while im still kinda sick so lemme write up the kaiji trans lesbian post ive been sitting for for.. a long time because well i have a lot of thoughts. fair warning this is long as fuck

to preface i use any pronouns for kaiji + perceive them as being a nonbinary transfem dyke n well! this is a post about why i believe this. cuz i do genuinely think there is subtextual evidence within the canon to support this. oh also like expect spoilers for the entire series

Gonna try not to ramble too hardcore but i think a lot of the outcast narrative pervasive in kaiji is also very applicable to transness and gender non-conformity and this is imo supported within the text aswell. A lot of instances when kaiji is looked down upon is for failing at masculinity not just failing at being a "productive" member of society. and yeah those things are very much related with the whole, a man should be a provider etc. but kaijis femininity and inability to conform to and rejection from manhood is both enforced on the character but also i would argue kaiji rejects this themself.

This is evident as early as part one, particularly over kaijis hair

Kaijis hair is pretty symbolic of their outcasted status but also i think is really relatable to the trans experience too (especially transfem experience) the pressure to cut your hair so you look less feminine. Kaiji has canonically been growing their hair out since middle school

and later in part 6 this happens

and then we have very explicitly short hair being associated with the concept of kaiji finally becoming "a real man"

after this encounter too kaiji says this

again kaiji trying to be lowkey but is still attracting unwanted attention for being nonconforming, while yeah narratively its cuz this old lady makes it her problem their all NEETs but what intially prompts her to confront kaiji is the fact they are androgynous lol.

to jump back to part 1 kaiji is MUCH more self conscious about standing out and being different (although doesn't do anything appearance wise to conform better, which could mean nothing).

But in later parts, this attitude has changed a lot, the frustration turns outward. Again to go back to the part in the house they are more bothered now people have a problem with THEM over feeling it would be better if they could change. again this mindset they are fundamentally flawed is only really evident in part 1

I know the transmasc reading of kaiji is a pretty popular one, and yeah, a lot of these feelings are resonant for both transmasc and transfem people. BUT i do think kaiji leans more explicitly as being read as transfem and my reasoning for that is their relationship to womanhood.

This is a bit more meta but if you've ever read any other fukumoto works fukumoto really likes to make his protagonists either like , functionally asexual or pathetic virgins LOL, while protags like Akagi and Zero dont express any kind of attraction to anybody at any point. any character that does like women is usually fiending for that pussy.

When Kaiji expresses interest in girls its always within the context of wanting the girl to think their cool

cant even allow themselves to lez out in their dreams...

also when Kaiji does actually get to talk to a cute girl there more fixated on the idea of being seen as cool to her.

Again there's never a point where Kaiji ever tries to seek any kind of acceptance from the men they encounter. even in part 1 when they are explicitly more self hating, this never manifests in seeking any kind of approval. This follows with them feeling disappointed the cute girl wasn't more impressed

also i think its worth noting they make it very clear they want to be perceived as cool for being an accomplished gambler NOT just for having a lot of money. there's not really a sense kaiji wants to just buy the admiration of women. i could get into the way kaiji holds onto being good at gambling as the one thing that gives them worth but NOT THE POST FOR THAT, MOVING ON

now for the most telling part imo [famous representing all the women in the world panel analysis incoming]

When Kaiji meets those guys at the campsite, its very clear they find the way they talk about women and very off-putting, and what finally sets them off is that they share porn lol (and trying to pressure kaiji into joining in)

I think this is the most like overt expression of their disdain with being treated like a man, this is also probably the most honest they've ever been about these feelings. So yeah interesting this all comes out when their completely shitfaced, and they dont even realise what theyve been saying until after the fact.

jumping forward a little later into this arc...

When they are sober, in order to hide the fact there carrying like a bazillion dollars with them, they do play along with the pervy guy role to avoid suspicion (albeit extremely reluctantly).

Again its not like Kaiji straight up does not find women attractive at all, they just find this conversation nasty as hell (i mean like YEAH FAIR) but again, when they are drunk, they take it extremely personally as opposed to just. finding it gross as a dude who is like, normal lol.

^ kaiji finally coming into some acceptance of their butch realness

All that being said I do like that is becoming a lot more evident kaiji has a lot more self confidence throughout part 6 espec when you revisit...... now if you just go an see a therapist- ANYWAY

Kaiji also gets associated with motherly figures like... more than once lol. its a running gag in the fukumoto all stars comics based on that one line in part 2. i wont use that as evidence since those a gag comics but well, there out There JUST SAYING.

but i do want to add that in kaiji before espoir (the bonus prequel) its canonised that kaiji does indeed enjoy being praised by other for doing kind deeds

which isnt to suggest theres some selfish intent behind kaijis kindness just that. they do genuinely like being perceived as altruistic to some extent, despite having kinda complicated feelings about it intially (ie feeling flawed for not being able to participate in braves mens road). And yeah again this is something that is explicitly being feminized within the narrative.

Then theres like everything that happens in one poker lmfao. Thats a whole nother post but again theres a very pervasive theme of motherhood in that arc. Particularly a mothers love being unconditional. A lot of kazuya's hatred for kaiji comes from the fact they care about everybody unconditionally. And as someone who believes his own mother didnt truly care about him, this fucks him up big time.

this whole couple chapter in the finale of one poker is just kazuya projecting his mommy issues hardcore onto kaiji but well this aint about him! moving on!

again theres plenty of altruistic figures they couldve chosen to call kaiji but they use mother teresa cuz yeah she is in theory, a mother to the world type figure, someone perceived as loving strangers unconditionally. and yeah this is not just a throwaway thing its supported thematically throughout the narrative.

This might be a bit of a tangent but im mainly trying to emphasise kaiji is associated with femininity and this is something they like and accept about themselves (eventually, to some extent). and this is a core trait that makes them an exceptional person.

Its a good thing Kaiji is like this, Kaiji femininity is perceived as like, actual sainthood. And yet its still something consider innately wrong and incorrect by broader society. Despite all this, people still want kaiji to be a """real man""" instead. and idk, i just think this is something that makes me really love this series. The idea the very things kaiji is outcasted for is what makes them such a special person.

tl;dr trans dykes heal the world 5ever !!!!!

anyway i hope this is makes sense, and, well you agree with my beautiful and true autistic delusions <3

thats all i think!

#kaiji #fkmt #um.... teehee

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