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pwinkprincess · 1 day

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can u do more tojiii 🧁

young & beautiful ୨ৎ

your parents are on a business trip, which gives you more freedom than a sheltered 20 year old should have. they left the country thinking their daughter would continue to drive around your suburban neighborhood, continue going to both your ballet and pilate classes, go to your college classes and stay there retaining all of the information you possibly can. it’s the basic things they expected of you.

little did they know you were far far from home. your expensive shoes plopped against the cracked ed concrete. in the distance, you could hear the sound of multiple police sirens ringing throughout. they seemed to grow close before disappearing and the crying sirens becomes quieter and quieter. your eyes take in the environment in front of you, the buildings that you could tell were once vibrant now lost their color. cracks and chunks of the bricks used to build them up were missing and large colorful vandalism littered spots on the buildings. corner stores with peeling paint and flickering neon signs offer a glimpse of the local people here struggling to survive.

it feels like a gray filter is casted on this side of town. and with winter being seconds away from approaching, everything is colder and dull. the sky grumbles, threatening—no, warning people of what’s to come. a group of guys are standing at a trash littered corner as you and toji past by them. you curiously look at their faces, they’re all already looking at you with a gleam in their eyes. you gasp to yourself and clutch toji’s hand tighter in fear.

“got ya’ a young one!” one of the guys call out to toji, “bet that pussy’s nice ‘nd tight!”

toji walks faster, his grip tightening on your hand. you struggle to keep up with his fast steps. his walking is your fast walking, you’re almost on the borderline of jogging. the fall air sores through your chest as you continue looking around the neighborhood curiously.

the two of you walk until you get to a worn down building. it’s littered with moss, vines, and graffiti. toji lets go of your hand to pick out a single key in his pocket.

“go inside. i’ll be back.” he tells you. you can’t stop yourself from frowning.

“i-what? no!” you say with widened eyes. as interesting as it is to be in a part of town that your parents demanded you never came over, things are still dangerous. the thought of going into a building you’ve never been inside and just waiting for him has your heart thumping in fear. anything could happen while he’s gone.

“‘m not askin’.” he could see you trying to form up some rebuttal, some way to argue with him and he can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. “i’ll only be gone for about ten minutes. you can be a good girl and wait for ten minutes, right?”

you’re stiffly nodding your head while looking up at him. you try to convince yourself that ten minutes is not that long of a wait.

“i’ll knock six times and then say gumi. if someone knocks but doesn’t say the code word don’t open the door, understand?” he speaks carefully while looking into your eyes. he’s hoping all of his words are actually sticking and not just going through one ear and flowing out the other.

“fine..” you’re sighing and pouting, hoping that that’ll make him for bad for leaving you alone so soon.

he examines your face for a few seconds. he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, the two of you quietly look at each other into each other’s face until a dog barks and interrupts you both. toji steps back, giving you more personal space.

you don’t know if you’re supposed to give him a kiss or hug goodbye. your relationship with him is still new and timid at times. your feet are moving before you realize it and your arms have a mind of their own as they wrap around his figure. to your surprise, toji accepts your hug, though it is awkward. he pats your head like some dog.

after a few prolonged seconds, he’s pulling you away from him. “alright, kid. go inside.”

and you listen. with shaky hands, you bring the key to the knob. it takes only a second to unlock the door. to your dismay. the door creaks as it slowly opens. you look back at toji one more time, he’s still waiting for you to go completely inside before walking away.

you let out a breath before stepping into his house. you make sure to lock the door behind you.

the inside of the house is sparsely furnished with basic necessities—a worn-out couch, a small dining table with mismatched chairs. there are warm tones of the walls try to add a comforting touch to the otherwise bleak space, but they can't hide the signs of neglect. the floorboards creak with every step, and the curtains are thin, barely filtering out the dim light from the outside light. you’re used to big elegant houses so to see something so small and compact has your eyebrows rising. as you tour throughout the entire house, every room is just about the same. bare with just hints of being lived in. you curiously open the refrigerator, you’re met with nothing. just a bottle of half drunken hennessy, and a sandwich. you’re in disbelief that someone actually lives like this.

luckily, the electricity worked. you turned the heat up before trailing into his bedroom. the room is a master, it has a queen sized bed in the middle of the floor and a single dresser with a tv sitting on top of it. you strip out of your clothing besides your bra and panties. you rummage through his drawers until you find a solid black shirt. you put it on, it fits you like a dress. it stops right under your ass and the littlest movement would expose it off. you fold your discarded clothes, and place them on top of his dresser. you grab your phone and lay down on his bed.

his house is quiet. too quiet. there’s nothing to hear besides your thoughts. you can’t help but to wonder how he lives like this. so alone with nothing but his thoughts. you sigh out to yourself, it’s almost close to the ten minute mark.

you mindlessly scroll on your phone until you finally hear it. you rush out of his bed and make a straight line to the door.

knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

“gumi.”

you let out a breath and swing the door open. toji stands there with a. smug smirk on his face. as you look up at him, breathless, you notice a newfound small scar on his cheek.

“you don’t look happy t’see me, cutie.” toji practically pushes you to the side. you’re unsteady on your feet before catching your balance.

“no! i am! i’m very happy!” you exclaim. you watch as his fingers go to unzip his jacket, your eyes widen when you realize his knuckles are red and bruised.

his eyes follow what you’re looking at and when he realizes you’re reacting to his bruised knuckles he just chuckles. "i see you made yourself comfortable." he comments.

you bite down on your lip trying to hide your giddy smile. "it smells like you.”

toji only hums at your statement. he walks through his house and you follow behind him like a lost puppy. your uncertain steps travel closely behind his confident ones. he leads you to the bathroom, you don’t know if you should stop at the door or continue to waltz through.

“c’mon.” he ushers you.

he turns the shower on and lets it run for a little. he takes the time to take his clothes off, he smirks to himself when he sees your curious eyes linger on every inch of his body. once he’s bare, he walks over to you, pulling you closer to him. his hands wonder on your body before he’s tugging on your shirt, signaling that he wants it off. he helps you undress yourself, once you’re naked in front of him, he’s ogling at your body while letting out a pleased whistle.

“step in.” he tells you.

you follow his directions and step in the tub. now that you’re actually in it. the tub is quite condemned and with how big toji is you briefly wonder if the two of you are going to fit.

he hands you a white rag before stepping in behind you. you’re stiff, you’ve never showered with another person, ever. you’re used to showering in luxury bathrooms with the upmost space. you see that there’s only one bottle of body wash, which is also something you’re not used to. you use a plethora of skincare products that make you feel nice and clean, not some off-brand from the convenience store.

“since it seems like you don’t know how to wash yourself.” toji tuts before taking the rag out of your hands. he pours a nice amount of gel on the fabric before wetting it.

the feeling of his hands cascading around your body is .. weird. his movements are extremely gentle, he touches you like you’re some sort or sensitive rare artifact. you find yourself relaxing against his body as he cleans you. he starts from the neck and works his way down, even going so far as to clean the outside of your intimate areas with just water. you return the favor to him, also. he washes himself but he does let you wash his back. once the two of you are cleaned, you stay under the slowly turning cold water until it’s fully freezing.

there’s only one towel out when you two step out. you look up at toji cautiously.

“forgot to grab the other.” he shrugs. he wraps the towel around your body and then opens the bathroom door.

you two make your way to his bedroom. you could hear the sound of rain pattering against the roof and occasional thunder blooming throughout the air. toji turns on a single lamp as a source of light.

the two of you dry off in your own towels. once you’re dry, you’re looking up at toji. the very few times you’ve been around him it feels like your brain stops working and you have to look at from guidance. you can’t tell if he gets annoyed by it or not, if he does he doesn’t say anything.

toji guides you to sit on the edge of the bed. before you could ask why, his lips are on yours. he kisses you greedily, he sucks up both your tongue and air. with you being not so experienced, you struggle to keep up with his experienced mechanisms. you can’t stop yourself as you’re leaning back, and toji follows you. he makes sure not to drop his entire weight so that he wouldn’t crush you.

the two of you continue to sloppily make out for a while, the kiss morphing from just lips to tongue and spit swapping. you let out a soft moan as toji begins grinding his growing hard on against your clit.

he slowly pulls his lips away from your lips and moves his lipa down to your jaw and neck. he kisses you and occasionally licks spots here and there, he makes sure not to leave any spots on your neck. he’s grown now, if he was still in his early 20’s he would’ve left marks to let people know there’s already a claim on you. but he’s past that childish point in his life.

“y’wanna get fucked, baby? hm? ‘s that why you came alway over here?” he taunts you. his hips are moving faster and one incorrect slip up would have his cock slipping right inside your wet cunt.

“y-yes. please.” breathy gasps are escaping past your lips. the friction he’s creating is so delicious and addictive.

“g’na give it to you, baby. g’na fuck this pussy. g’na mold it to fit only my cock.” he’s letting out a drawn out groan as he slides his cock into you. you’re both moaning out to each other. the second all of his cock is fit into you, he’s immediately pulling his cock out only to slam it back inside of you.

he straightens his back, putting some distance between the two of you. he grabs your legs and places them on his shoulder. he watches as your boobs bounce with every thrust and you’re clutching the bedsheets while still looking angelic.

“fuck.” you whimper out. his cock is so thick and it fills you up so well. “feel’s s-so good, tojiii.” you moan.

“mhmm. g’na let me fill this pussy up, ‘mma put a baby in you.” his breathing becoming heavier and you can’t help but gush out some more wetness at his claims of breeding.

“fuck a baby ‘nto me, toii, pleaseee.” you moan out.

toji grins at your words. if a baby is what you want, that’s what he’ll give to you.

#asks ! ˚ ༘ ೀ #olderbf!toji #pwinkprincess ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა #₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ #tojiii ᡣ𐭩 ୨୧ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶#jjk ! ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა #˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗#hes so dad coded lmfaooo #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #toji fushigro x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji smut #toji x reader

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mononijikayu · 2 days

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lonely in gorgeous – ryomen sukuna.

In that small moment, you allowed yourself to indulge in a bit of nostalgia, thinking about the paths you both had taken. You hoped he was happy and successful, thriving in the world he had always been so passionate about. And though you doubted you would ever hear from him again, you couldn't help but wonder if he ever thought about you, if he ever missed the days when you were his muse, and he was your world.

GENRE: alternate universe - fashion au!

WARNING/S: alternate universe - canon convergence, modern au, fashion au!, rated 18 and above, age gap (reader is in 20s and sukuna is in his 30s), explicit content, smut, p to v sex, flirting, romance, humor, strangers to lovers, lovers to strangers, break up, time skip (ten years later);

LISTEN: lonely in gorgeous by tommy february6

NOTE: this is probably my second favorite so far. because i keep thinking of hiromi and sukuna throughout but modern au??? i loved this a lot because its based on paradise kiss, which i think is one of the stories i loved in a long time. it makes me wanna rewatch paradise kiss. i'm very happy with this one. i hope you enjoy it as much as i do <3333

masterlist

kayu's playlist — side 700;

IT STARTED OUT IN A WAY YOU DIDN’T EXPECT. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting long shadows across the grassy expanse of the park. You sat on the bench, surrounded by the cacophony of rustling leaves and distant chatter, the weight of your textbooks heavy on your lap. Each page seemed to blur together, the words melding into an incomprehensible jumble as exhaustion gnawed at the edges of your mind.

As you stared at the pages before you, the thought of continuing down this path weighed heavily on your shoulders. This degree, chosen by your mother, felt more like a burden than a choice. It was her dream, her unfinished journey that you were expected to fulfill. Yet, with each passing day, the realization grew stronger within you that it wasn't your dream at all. It was a legacy you were expected to carry, a path laid out for you by someone else's ambitions.

The thought left you feeling adrift, caught between the expectations of others and the yearning for something more. The park, with its tranquil beauty, offered a brief respite from the chaos of your thoughts. Here, amidst the gentle sway of the trees and the soft rustle of leaves, you found a fleeting sense of peace, a momentary escape from the pressures of academia and familial expectations.

The figure at the nearby table commanded attention, his presence as enigmatic as it was compelling. Ryomen Sukuna, renowned fashion designer, his reputation preceded him like a shadow cast by the setting sun. His tall, imposing frame was a stark contrast to the tranquil surroundings of the park, yet there was an undeniable magnetism to his presence.

As he sat hunched over his sketchbook, his expression was one of intense concentration, his fingers moving deftly across the page in a frenzied dance. The lines he etched upon the paper seemed to materialize effortlessly, each stroke a testament to his skill and creativity. But beneath the surface, there was a simmering frustration, a sense of discontent that lingered like a shadow in the corners of his mind.

For Sukuna, the park had become an unlikely refuge, a sanctuary of sorts where he could retreat from the relentless demands of his craft. Here, amidst the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of city life, he sought solace in the simplicity of nature, hoping to unearth the spark of inspiration that had eluded him for so long.

Intrigued by the sight of you, Ryomen Sukuna couldn't tear his gaze away. The exhaustion etched into your features, mingled with an unmistakable determination, spoke volumes to him, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. With a sense of curiosity piqued by the contrast of your presence against the backdrop of the park, he found himself compelled to approach you.

With confident strides, he closed the distance between you, his sketchpad clutched in one hand as though it were a precious treasure. There was a magnetic pull in his demeanor, an air of authority and intrigue that seemed to precede him like a gentle breeze, stirring the stillness of the evening air.

As he neared, his gaze never wavered from you, his eyes scanning your form with a keen sense of observation. It was as though he were studying a masterpiece, seeking to unravel the secrets hidden within the intricate tapestry of your being. And when he finally reached your side, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a tension that crackled between you like electricity waiting to ignite.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a mix of curiosity and determination. You looked up, startled by the sudden interruption. “Would you like to model for me?”

Confused, you furrowed your brows. “Model? I’m not a model. I’m just a student.”

Sukuna’s eyes glinted with a hint of amusement. “Doesn’t matter. I want you to be my model.”

You stared at him, still trying to process the odd request. “But… Why me?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “I don’t know yet. But there’s something about you. I can’t explain it. Just think about it.”

Your mind buzzed with confusion as you watched Ryomen Sukuna retreat, leaving you to grapple with the unexpected encounter. His enigmatic demeanor left you feeling both intrigued and bewildered, as though you had stumbled into a world of mysteries waiting to be unraveled.

His simple yet cryptic words lingered in the air, echoing in your mind like an elusive melody. "There's something about you," he had said, a statement that sparked a flurry of questions within you. What did he see in you that prompted such a request? What hidden depths did he perceive beneath the surface of your tired facade?

As you held his business card in your hand, its sleek surface cool against your skin, you couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity stirring within you. What harm could come from entertaining the idea, if only for a moment? With a sense of hesitancy tinged with intrigue, you tucked the card into your pocket, a silent promise to explore the mysterious invitation further.

The sun hung low in the sky as you made your way back to the park, the familiar sight of Ryomen Sukuna sketching under the shade of a tree drawing you closer. With each step, your heart quickened, a mixture of apprehension and excitement swirling within you.

As you approached him, Sukuna glanced up from his sketchpad, a small smile gracing his lips. "Back again, I see," he remarked, his voice smooth and confident.

You nodded, unable to suppress the curiosity that burned within you. "I couldn't stay away," you admitted, your tone tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

Sukuna's gaze softened, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I thought as much," he replied, his attention returning to his sketch. "Have you given any more thought to my offer?"

You hesitated, the memory of his cryptic request still fresh in your mind. "I'm not sure I understand what you see in me," you confessed, your voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and self-doubt.

Sukuna looked up, his gaze meeting yours with a piercing intensity. "Sometimes, it's not about understanding," he replied cryptically. "It's about embracing the unknown. You won’t be able to live a life like this without embracing what makes life so hard, you know.”

“Why do you keep asking me?” you demanded of him. “I’m just a burnt out college student. What do I have to offer?”

Sukuna looked up from his sketchpad, his expression serious. “Because you’re my muse.”

The words hung in the air, and you felt a strange thrill at the idea. Despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself agreeing to his request.

"I suppose……I could give it a try." you finally conceded, a hint of uncertainty still lingering in your voice. “What do I have to lose at this point?”

Sukuna's smile widened, a spark of satisfaction flickering in his eyes. "Excellent." he replied, a note of excitement creeping into his tone. "Trust me, you won't regret it."

“I hope not.”

“Little muse, you should pose on the other side.” He says to you. “I need to get your hair right for this one.”

You nodded at him. You couldn’t help but ponder at his words for a moment, the weight of their meaning sinking in. He called you his muse. He needed you as his muse. You didn’t know why you agreed, but you knew you really had nothing to lose. And this gives you something to do, other than being miserable about your college life.

There was something about Sukuna, you couldn’t point it out even if you tried. But you knew that there was an air of mystery surrounding Sukuna that both intrigued and unnerved you. But despite your reservations, you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Because it was quite easy to see for you.

You think he was about to change your life.

And little did you know, you were right.

The following weeks were quite a hurricane storm. You were quite the spectator to Sukuna’s creativity. Everything about how he worked was something you had never seen before. He was always so full of passion, everything about it was electric. His energy was infectious, and you found yourself caught up in his world.

You posed for him in various outfits he made each and every week, each one more daring and unconventional than the last. Despite his notorious reputation, Sukuna was surprisingly patient with you. He encouraged you, challenged you, and celebrated your progress.

At first, it was hard adjusting to it all. You didn’t know if you actually had it in you to pull these clothes off. But he kept talking to you about each and every story the dress made and more and more, each piece of clothing he made for you to try and model in was clothes that slowly became your friend.

He pushed you out of your comfort zone, and you discovered slowly but surely, you came to realize that there was passion in you too, as much as there was the bounty of potential and confidence that was just waiting to be nurtured and waiting to blossom.

The connection between you two grew stronger, and you began to understand why he had chosen you. Your exhaustion and determination, your raw, unpolished presence, was exactly what he needed to reignite his creativity. One evening, after a particularly intense session, you found yourself sitting beside him over glasses of wine, watching the city lights flicker in the distance.

As you sat beside Sukuna, watching him sketch with newfound clarity, you couldn't help but feel a sense of validation wash over you. You watch him pour another glass on your glass and then his.

"I think I'm starting to get it," you admitted, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

Sukuna glanced up from his sketchpad, a pleased smile gracing his lips. "Told you, little muse." he replied, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "There's something about you that's just... captivating."

“Oh don’t flatter me that way.”

His words echoed in the dimly lit room, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and the soft hum of conversation. Sukuna's eyes held a glimmer of sincerity as he spoke, his grin genuine as he savored the moment.

"You've brought something back to life in me," he repeated, his voice carrying a weight of truth. It was a confession, raw and unguarded, revealing a vulnerability that belied his usual stoic demeanor. “I’m thankful.”

As you watched him, a warmth spread through your chest, your heart swelling with a mixture of pride and affection. To know that you had played a part in rekindling Sukuna's passion, in breathing life into his creativity, filled you with a sense of purpose unlike anything you had ever felt before.

You chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I'm glad I could help," you said, sincerity lacing your tone. "And who knows, maybe this could be the start of something great."

Sukuna's gaze softened, a glimmer of gratitude shining in his eyes. "I have a feeling it will be," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Well, it already is, if I’m being honest.”

“Why me, really?” you asked softly as you take in the image of him. “Why did you choose me?”

Sukuna turned to you, his eyes reflecting the lights of the city. “Because you’re real. You’re not polished or perfect, and that’s what makes you beautiful. You remind me that inspiration can come from the most unexpected places.”

His words touched you deeply, and you realized that this experience had changed you. You were no longer just a burnt-out college student. You had become a muse, a source of inspiration, and in turn, you had found your own spark of creativity and passion. You were his muse, you were the essence of his wonder. As you looked at Sukuna, you could see he was looking at you.

In that moment, as Sukuna's gaze met yours, you felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you. It was as if the air between you crackled with an unspoken understanding, a shared connection that transcended words.

Without a word, Sukuna reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he leaned in closer. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each passing second.

And then, his lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with unspoken promises, a silent vow to cherish each other and the bond you shared. In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, the world around you fading into the background.

As you pulled away, breathless and flushed, you locked eyes with Sukuna once more, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. In that simple gesture, you both knew that this was just the beginning of something extraordinary, a journey filled with endless possibilities and boundless love.

"Wow," you whispered, your heart racing as you gazed into Sukuna's eyes. "I never knew..."

Sukuna's smirk was tinged with affection as he brushed his thumb lightly over your cheek. "You never knew what, my dear muse?"

"That you could make me feel this way," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "That you could make me feel... alive."

Sukuna's expression softened, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings for you. "You've brought out something in me that I thought was lost forever," he confessed. "And for that, I'll always be grateful, little muse.”

You could feel yourself echo in the shade of scarlet as you leaned in to press another gentle kiss to his lips, savoring the warmth and intimacy of the moment. He kissed you back, his hands encroaching against your jaw as he pulled you closer to him. In Sukuna's embrace, you felt a sense of belonging, a sense of completeness that you had never experienced before.

As you pulled away, a smile graced Sukuna's lips, his gaze filled with warmth and adoration. "Shall we continue to inspire each other, my dear muse?" he murmured, his voice low and husky.

With a nod and a smile, you intertwined your fingers with his, knowing that together, you were destined to create something truly extraordinary.

When you look at him, the city lights seem dull.

Ryomen Sukuna was brighter than everything else.

And you fell in love with everything in him more.

IT WAS ALL AN INTENSE WHIRLWIND. At every turn, Sukuna flaunted your presence, introducing you to his acquaintances and peers as his muse, the source of his inspiration. Your relationship with him flourished amidst the glamorous backdrop of high-profile parties and events, where you were the center of attention, admired for your natural allure and captivating presence.

In the eyes of Sukuna, you were not just a model or a companion; you were the embodiment of his artistic vision, the muse who breathed life into his designs and fueled his creativity. Together, you navigated the intricacies of the fashion world, of his world as you basked in the spotlight and forging a bond that transcended mere admiration.

As your connection with Sukuna deepened, the lines between your worlds began to blur. He used his extensive network to secure opportunities for you, arranging magazine features where you modeled the clothes he had painstakingly crafted. With each photoshoot and editorial spread, you became the living embodiment of his artistic vision, seamlessly blending into the world he had created.

As your career flourished under his guidance, you found yourself spending more and more time in Sukuna's presence. He became not just your mentor, but your confidant and companion, guiding you through the intricacies of the fashion industry with unwavering support and encouragement.

With Sukuna's help, you acquired your own manager and began to take on more jobs, each one bringing you further into the spotlight. You reveled in the attention, basking in the glow of success that seemed to follow wherever you went.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the lines between both of your lives blurred almost imperceptibly. What began as occasional visits to his apartment soon transformed into a routine, with more nights spent in his space than in your own college dorm.

His apartment became a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you could escape the pressures and expectations of the outside world and simply be yourself. The familiar surroundings, infused with Sukuna's presence, offered a sense of comfort and security that you found nowhere else.

In Sukuna's world, time seemed to slow down, allowing you to savor each moment spent together. Whether it was cooking dinner together in the cozy kitchen, lounging on the couch as you watched movies late into the night, or simply sharing quiet conversations in the dim glow of lamplight, every experience felt like a precious gift.

And as you became more deeply entwined in Sukuna's life, you found yourself embracing aspects of his world that were once foreign to you. You attended glamorous parties and events by his side, proudly adorned with everything he made to fit only you. You enjoyed standing beside him as he spoke to other fashion connoisseurs, while you ended up mingling with fashion elites and modeling industry insiders who passed around their business cards to you one after the other.

But amidst the glitz and glamor, there were moments of vulnerability and intimacy that bound you together even more tightly. You realized that not everyone saw this part of the world Ryomen Sukuna orbited. You enjoyed his company, you enjoyed watching him pick apart fabrics all day.

You’ve seen him be frustrated with his work each and every day. You’ve seen him rush to you with delight when he thinks that it’s perfect enough for you to wear. In that whole two years, you found yourself sharing your hopes and dreams, your fears and insecurities, laying bare your soul in a way you never thought possible.

In the midst of the glamor and passion, there were also moments of turmoil and discord that tested the strength of your relationship. Arguments erupted over trivial matters, escalating into heated exchanges that left you both feeling wounded and raw. Tears were shed, words were spoken in anger, and the once serene sanctuary of Sukuna's apartment became a battleground for your conflicting emotions.

At times, it felt as though your lover was a tempestuous storm, his moods shifting unpredictably from blazing intensity to icy detachment. His affectionate gestures were often overshadowed by moments of aloofness, leaving you feeling bewildered and uncertain of where you stood in his heart.

But Sukuna was a complicated man, and his feelings for you were just as complex. He could be warm and affectionate one moment, then distant and cold the next. His hot-and-cold behavior left you confused and exasperated. There were times he seemed to take pleasure in toying with your emotions, pushing your boundaries, and testing your naivete.

In the midst of these turbulent emotions, Sukuna's behavior sometimes bordered on manipulative. He had a knack for using subtle tactics to exert control over you, whether it was through guilt-tripping, emotional manipulation, or even resorting to underhanded methods like calling your friends to inquire about your whereabouts without your knowledge.

These manipulative tendencies only added to the strain on your relationship, fostering a sense of distrust and resentment that simmered beneath the surface. Despite your love for Sukuna, there were moments when you questioned whether the tumultuous nature of your connection was worth the emotional toll it took on you.

Yet, even in the midst of the storm, there were moments of tenderness and vulnerability that reminded you why you fell in love with Sukuna in the first place. In the quiet moments of reconciliation, when apologies were whispered and forgiveness granted, you found solace in the depths of your shared connection, clinging to the hope that love would ultimately prevail over the trials and tribulations that threatened to tear you apart.

Leaving behind the familiarity of your college dorms for the sanctuary of Sukuna's apartment marked a significant turning point in your life. Graduation loomed on the horizon, a milestone that signified the culmination of years of hard work and dedication. Yet, amidst the celebrations and anticipation of what lay ahead, it was the quiet moments spent in Sukuna's arms that held the greatest allure.

With each passing day, your bond with Sukuna deepened, weaving itself into the very fabric of your existence. His apartment, once a temporary escape from the demands of college life, had now become your sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of the outside world. Within its walls, you found solace and strength, a sense of belonging that transcended words.

The allure of Sukuna's presence was undeniable, you needed him. You knew there was no one else. You wanted him, all his ugly and dirty. In all his magnetic charm drawing you ever closer with each passing moment. In his arms, you found respite from the uncertainties and anxieties that plagued your mind, basking in the warmth of his affection and the reassurance of his love. You burned for him, as you always do.

Ryomen Sukuna could only smirk as you clenched around him. He was trying to be careful with you, it was your first time after all. He could see the way your face scrunched as he kissed you all over, trying to distract you from the pain. He lets himself coo at you as he gives your forehead a small kiss.

"There, there," he cooed softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Just relax, sweetheart. I'll take care of you."

His words were like a balm to your nerves, calming you as you adjusted to the sensation. You nodded, allowing yourself to relax into his touch as the initial discomfort began to fade.

"I trust you.” you whispered, meeting his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and affection.

“I know you do, baby.”

His harsh thrusts could only really make your head spin. You held tight to him, moaning against his shoulder, tears falling from your face. His throat let out low growls one after another as he pushes through the depths of you with each and every bottoming down into you. He feels like he is molding into you, as much as he’s molding you into him.

“Yer so good f’r me, aren’t you?” He groans against you, his body enveloping all around you, the sweat of you melting against his skin. “Go ‘n baby, keep making those sounds f’r me.”

You could feel overwhelmed as he changed your position, your belly resting on the bed, his cock still inside you. You felt your body rattle as much as the bed did as l his huge cock effortlessly bullies deep into your hole with vigorous excitement. You could not stop feeling your insides be like they’re on fire. You could feel yourself squeeze around him tightly.

His strong calloused hands wander below your chest, holding onto you the way he does with his fabrics — a sense of desire for the things that are beautiful. Soon enough, you could feel them strongly encroach against the will of your hips, fingers leaving imprints as they pressed hard against your skin. You could only squirm under his intense gaze.

You couldn’t even focus anymore as drool fell from your lips. You cry as you shake and shake against his touch. His rough kisses hurt, but you didn’t care. You let him paint his lips all over your body, those brutally vain beauty of lips touching every sensitive part of you. He grins as he watches you lose all sense. He watches you apart from him.

“My little muse, uh, y’r so good f’r me, aren’t you?” He says against your ear, letting out a moan. “I’ll make a good dress f’r you, a sequenced one? No, no, it’s going to be the same color of your skin. I’ll feast on it. I’m pretty sure. But I’m the only one who gets to see it. I’m the only one that gets to see you that way.”

“Y–yeah,” You mewl against him, lost in everything but pleasure. ‘’kuna, I’m feeling something, it’s tooooooo good.”

“I know, baby. I can feel you, hm? I can feel you tightening up f’r me.” He leans forward, his body pressed against the small of your back. He thrusts, causing you to moan harshly. “Y’r about to come, hm? Give it to me, hm? Be my good little muse.”

Sukuna grabbed you by the hair, pulling you towards him with a fierce intensity. His lips crashed into yours, a passionate kiss that left you breathless as he pressed your bodies tightly together. You moaned into the kiss, your voice vibrating against his mouth as Sukuna trailed his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of bites and marks in his wake.

He pushed more into you as his head rested on the side of your neck with a predatory grace. His hips ground against yours, eliciting a gasp from your lips. The room filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing,tears pouring more and more as both of you closed the gates to pleasure

Sukuna's movements quickened, driven by a surge of pleasure and desire.. His mouth descended upon your collarbone, and neck — his free hand reaches breast, pinching it tightly as you cried. His tongue tracing patterns that sent shivers down your spine. You cried out, the mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming your senses as he marked you with his teeth.

The feeling of his warmth enveloping you was intoxicating, your eyes fluttering shut as you both lost yourselves in the sensation of being together. His thrusts grew harder and faster, each movement driving you both closer to the edge. You felt like your body was shutting down, with how cruelly deep he was getting into you.

Ryomen Sukuna felt like he belonged inside of you. Here, in your arms, he was exactly where he wanted to be—lost in the embrace of someone he loved, sharing a connection that was raw, passionate, and undeniably real.

Your bodies moved together in a rhythm as old as time, each thrust bringing them closer to the peak of ecstasy. Sukuna's movements were swift as he moved you back on your back, arms pulling your legs upwards to him as he drilled his hips.

You screamed in pleasure as you finally came, head pushing against the nook of the pillows. But Sukuna was still waiting to get there. He kept pushing and pushing, as though he were driven by a primal need, a hunger that could only be sated by the touch of your skin, the sound of your voice, the taste of your lips.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as pleasure washed over you in waves. Every sensation was heightened, every touch electrifying as you surrendered yourself to the moment. The intensity of your connection was overwhelming, consuming you both in a fiery blaze of passion.

"I love you." you gasped, your voice strained with pleasure as Sukuna's movements quickened.

"I love you too," Sukuna whispered hoarsely, his breath hot against your ear. "More than anything in this world."

With each word, his thrusts grew more urgent, driving you both towards the edge of ecstasy. The air was thick with passion as you clung to each other, lost in a whirlwind of desire.

As the intensity reached its peak, you locked eyes, sharing a moment of perfect understanding. And in that moment, as you surrender yourself completely to each other, you knew that your love would endure, forever and always.

Nothing was coherent anymore, all you could see was the stars as everything between you blurred until there was nothing left but the two of you. Nothing existed between the two of you but being lost in a world of pleasure and desire. Time seemed to stand still as you soared to new heights, your bodies intertwined in a dance of ecstasy.

And as you finally reached the pinnacle of your passion, Sukuna's name tumbled from your lips in a breathless cry, a testament to the depth of your desire for him. In that moment, you knew that nothing else mattered—only the two of you, bound together by an unbreakable bond that transcended time and space.

The realization that your love story with Sukuna had reached its final chapter weighed heavily on your heart as you sat across from him in the dimly lit restaurant. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows over the table, a poignant reminder of the fleeting nature of love and life itself.

You couldn't bear to see Sukuna sacrifice his dreams for the sake of your relationship. As much as you longed to hold onto him, to keep him by your side, you knew deep down that it wasn't fair to ask him to give up his ambitions for you. His talent deserved to be showcased on a global stage, and you couldn't stand in the way of his success, no matter how much it pained you to let him go.

With a heavy heart, you realized that sometimes, even the most beautiful love stories must come to an end. It was a bittersweet truth that echoed in the depths of your soul, a reminder that life was filled with moments of joy and sorrow, of love and loss.

As you gazed into Sukuna's eyes, you knew that it was time to say goodbye. It was a decision born out of love, a selfless act of letting go for the sake of both your happiness. And though it tore you apart inside, you found solace in the knowledge that you were setting him free to chase his dreams, even if it meant facing the pain of being apart.

“When were you going to tell me that you got an offer from Paris?”

As Sukuna's gaze lingered on you, his eyes held a depth of emotion that was difficult to decipher. It was a stark contrast to the man you had come to know so intimately, whose every thought and feeling had once been an open book to you. But now, as you sat across from him, you found yourself unable to read the nuances of his expression.

Your boyfriend had always been someone whose walls had gradually come down over time, allowing you to glimpse the vulnerability and truth behind his stoic facade. Yet, on this matter, his demeanor remained inscrutable, his thoughts veiled behind a mask of contemplation.

It was a disconcerting realization, to be faced with the uncertainty of Sukuna's intentions and emotions, especially in a moment as pivotal as this. You longed to understand his inner turmoil, to find some semblance of clarity amidst the swirling emotions that threatened to engulf you both.

But as you watched him take a sip of his wine, the silence between you stretching taut with unspoken words, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settle over you. Sukuna's unreadable expression left you feeling adrift, uncertain of where you stood in his heart and what the future held for your relationship.

"Why bring it up now?" he countered, his voice low and measured. "Would it have changed anything?"

You hesitated, grappling with the conflicting emotions swirling within you. On one hand, you understood Sukuna's desire to protect you from unnecessary worries and uncertainties. On the other hand, you couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness.

"I guess I just wish you had been more open with me," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "We've been through so much together, Sukuna. I thought we could share everything."

Sukuna's expression softened, a trace of regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured, reaching across the table to gently grasp your hand. "I didn't mean to keep it from you. I just... I wanted to figure things out first, before I said anything."

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly at his words. Despite the hurt and confusion that lingered between you, there was an underlying sense of understanding and acceptance that anchored you to each other.

"I know," you replied, offering him a small, sad tentative smile. "I just wish we could have talked about it sooner."

“I don’t plan on taking it.”

“Why not?”

“I’m planning to stay here and be with you.” He admits to you. “I already have a name for myself here.”

“But you would make a bigger name for yourself, if you go out into the world.”

Sukuna's gaze softened as he reached across the table to cup your face gently in his hand. "I don't need a bigger name," he said earnestly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Not if it means being apart from you."

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, touched by his unwavering devotion. "But Sukuna, I don't want to hold you back from your dreams," you replied, your voice tinged with concern.

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "You could never hold me back, baby.” he said softly. "Being with you is the greatest dream I could ever imagine."

"Are you sure?” You mumble at him.

“I am. I wouldn’t say this to you if I wasn’t.”

“But what if you resent me?” You whisper to him. “What ended up deciding I ruined your life? I won’t do that to you.”

Sukuna's heart clenched at the sight of your distress, his own emotions swirling in turmoil. He watched as you bit your lower lip, a telltale sign of your efforts to hold back tears. In that moment, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him, knowing that his decision was causing you such pain.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I never wanted to hurt you."

You shook your head slightly, a silent acknowledgment of his apology. But the hurt in your eyes remained, a silent testament to the depth of your pain.

"It's okay," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be okay."

But Sukuna knew that the road ahead would be anything but easy for you. And as he reached out to gently wipe away a tear from your cheek, he silently vowed to do everything in his power to ease your pain, even if it meant walking away from the one person he loved more than anything in the world.

He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "You’re letting me go, aren’t you?”

“I can’t join you in Paris.” You mumble to him as you purse your lips at him. “You know that.”

“That’s why I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you.”

“But at the cost of your dreams? Sukuna, this is not good for you.”

“I know what’s good for me, and it's you.” His intense gaze burned you. “I’m not leaving you. Baby, I’m nothing without you. I can’t just leave you—”

Your eyes shone with bitter tears pouring down. “I can’t let you leave your dreams because of me. Not when you told me to follow my dreams no matter what.”

“But its not going to hinder me.”

“Those are easy words to say.” You whisper to him. “But one day, I know you’ll look at me and you’ll wake up and not feel happy anymore.”

“I love you.”

As Sukuna's words sank in, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness in your chest. You knew deep down that he was right—that staying together might ultimately lead to resentment and regret. But the thought of being apart from him was almost unbearable.

"I love you too, more than anything." you murmured, squeezing his hand gently. "But maybe...maybe it's time for us to part ways."

Sukuna's expression mirrored your own conflicted emotions, his gaze soft yet troubled. “We don’t have to do this.”

“It’s not going to make us happy.”

“But we’d be together.”

“But that’s not fair.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, weighted with the sorrow of an impending farewell. Sukuna's heart ached at the thought of letting you go, the idea of a life without you seeming almost unbearable. He longed to hold onto you, to defy the inevitable and cling to the love you shared.

"We don't have to do this," he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand tightened around yours, as if seeking reassurance in the warmth of your touch. "We can find a way to make it work. We can fight for us."

Your heart clenched at his words, torn between the love you felt for Sukuna and the harsh reality of your situation. You knew that as much as you wanted to stay, to fight for your relationship, there were forces at play beyond your control.

With a trembling breath, you leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to Sukuna's lips, savoring the bittersweet taste of goodbye. It was a kiss filled with all the love and longing that had defined your relationship, a silent farewell to the life you had built together.

As you pulled away, tears glistened in your eyes, reflecting the pain of your decision. "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I love you, but I have to go."

With one last lingering look, you turned and walked away, each step a painful reminder of the love you were leaving behind. Sukuna watched you go, his heart heavy with sorrow, knowing that this was the right choice even as it tore him apart inside.

Leaving Sukuna's apartment that night was one of the hardest things you had ever done. As you gathered your belongings and made your way to the door, each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the gravity of your decision. It was a choice born out of love and sacrifice, a painful acknowledgment that staying by his side would only serve to hinder both of your paths forward.

In the days that followed, you found yourself grappling with a profound sense of loss and longing. The absence of Sukuna's presence in your life left a void that seemed impossible to fill, a gaping emptiness that echoed with the memories of your time together. Yet, despite the ache in your heart, you knew that staying away was the only way to truly move forward.

You avoided places where you knew Sukuna frequented, unwilling to risk the temptation of running into him and reopening old wounds. The thought of seeing him again filled you with a mixture of longing and fear, knowing that even the briefest encounter could reignite the flame of your feelings for him.

Deep down, you knew that if you allowed yourself to see him again, you would be drawn back into his orbit, unable to resist the pull of his magnetic presence. But you also knew that returning to him would only perpetuate the cycle of heartache and uncertainty that had plagued your relationship from the start.

And so, you made a conscious decision to stay away, to give yourself the space and time to heal. It was a choice driven by a desire for self-preservation, a recognition that true love sometimes means letting go, even when every fiber of your being longs to hold on.

Your manager told you when he was leaving.

You booked a shoot that same day, to keep busy.

Because you knew you would cry your eyes out.

You knew you’d go to the airport and see him off.

You didn’t want to break your hearts even more.

YOU THINK YOU’LL NEVER GET OVER HIM. Years later, you stood at the pinnacle of your career, having fulfilled your dream of becoming a successful model. Your name was well-known in the fashion world, and as you neared the age of retirement from modeling, you smoothly transitioned into acting, where you were already making a significant impact.

Sukuna lingered in your thoughts like a haunting melody, an ever-present refrain that played in the background of your daily life. Despite the passage of time and the distance that now separated you, his presence continued to echo through the corridors of your mind, a constant reminder of the love you had shared and the dreams you had once dared to chase together.

In the quiet moments of solitude, his memory would surface like a ghost from the past, flooding your thoughts with bittersweet nostalgia. You would find yourself reminiscing about the moments you had shared, the laughter and tears, the whispered confessions and stolen kisses. Each memory was etched into the fabric of your being, an indelible mark that refused to fade with time.

Even amidst the hustle and bustle of your busy life, Sukuna's presence lingered like a shadow, casting a subtle but palpable weight upon your heart. His absence was a constant ache, a void that no amount of success or distraction could ever hope to fill. You would catch yourself reaching for your phone to text him, only to remember that he was no longer there to answer.

Each morning, you carefully selected an outfit from the collection of clothes Sukuna had designed for you. He left them to you to find in his apartment, one he also left you. He left the letter saying that he wants you to continue using it until the lease is up. That everything he had was always going to be for you — it was always going to be with the thought of you.

Each and everyday, you knew that there was always a happy feeling in you when you wore them. You still feel like you had a connection with him through the fabric and cuts that had once been a part of his creative vision. His presence was woven into the very threads you wore, a constant reminder of the man who had once called you his muse. Somehow, you think, this was the only way that you could still love him — even when you both aren’t together anymore.

You often wondered where Sukuna was now, how he was thriving in the ever-evolving fashion world. Sometimes, when nostalgia struck, you would visit the store of his fashion house in Tokyo, browsing through the latest collections. Each piece you bought reminded you of him, a tangible connection to the past that you cherished dearly.

Despite your lingering feelings, you hadn't heard from Sukuna since he left for Paris. From what you heard from your mutual friends, he still keeps up to date with you. He buys your magazines, he watches your interviews, your shows. When you heard it, you could feel your heart break over and over. He still looks after you, from afar.

You didn't expect him to call you now. That’s just not his style. Even back then when you were dating. But you think that he understands. You look at your ring, that butterfly ring that he made you. You purse your lips as you feel how it still fits after all this time. How it fits so much better than your engagement ring.

You didn’t know how it happened, but it just did. You don’t think that he’ll ever measure how Ryomen Sukuna shaped your life. How Sukuna had loved you. But you couldn’t expect anything less. But life had moved on, and so had you, or so you told yourself. You were getting married in a couple of months. To a man that has become a stability in your life for the longest of times.

Yet, there were moments when the memories would flood back—the nights spent at glamorous parties, the intimate conversations, and the way he had looked at you as if you were his entire world. The warmth in the way he said your name, the tenderness of his fingertips against your own. Those memories were bittersweet, a blend of happiness and longing that you carried with you.

You were going to see a show in the Paris Opera while you both were on your honeymoon in France. Your fiance procured them for you. He’d always known that you liked opera. But you’ve never said out loud how and why. Because you knew that if you told him that you cling to him because of your first great love, you knew it wouldn’t be fair to him.

Still, you were going to go enjoy the show. He told you it was a romantic drama with comedy in the middle. But you knew that you probably wouldn’t be able to focus on enjoying the show as well as you want to. After all, it would be hard. You would be looking at those familiar passionate stitches and threads, knowing they were specifically made by request of the Paris Opera by the one you had loved the most — Ryomen Sukuna.

You think that this was the only ending.

But perhaps if there would be another one,

In all the alternate universes, all the next lives;

You’d wish that you and Sukuna were happy.

You’d wish you both would end up together.

97 notes · View notes

mochidoie · 2 days

Text

the summer of us ☼

kim doyoung x reader wc - 8.6k genre - slow burn, fluff, slightly angsty, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining warnings - kiss scene a/n - italicized sections are written as flashbacks, while regular texts correspond with the present

You and Doyoung reunite at your high school reunion. Him, just as he has always been. You, bolder but just as beautiful. Upon meeting again, the memories of the one summer you two shared during your college years resurface, along with the same romantic feelings that never had a proper ending. Will that summer love find its way back to your present?

The only people who show up to high school reunions are those who used to be popular and lonely individuals. It’s the people who reminisce about their glory days in the tight hallways and how everyone knew their name. It’s for the people who currently have no one back in their hometown and are looking to rekindle old flames or friendships. Doyoung was neither one of these, and yet, here he is standing in the middle of his old high school gymnasium amongst his past peers and barely making out familiar faces in this mood lighting.

There were predictable appearances: Johnny was King of the Field, wore his letterman jacket nearly every day of senior year until the leather wore out and crusted off. Mina was captain of the cheerleading squad, admired by many but envied by most. Jaehyun was the campus sweetheart, confession letters and gifts would flood out of his locker on Valentine’s day.

They are all holding onto that piece of glory, making remarks on how they wish they could go back in time to experience it all over again. Nothing in their current lives gives them that same thrill. It’s sad and for a brief moment, Doyoung genuinely pitied them.

Some unexpected faces took him by surprise: Taeyong was his lab partner for most of his projects, his mind was always on a creative tangent at such a young age. Yuta was the underrated soccer star, he was humble in his skill, but extremely competitive in everything he did. Haechan was that underclassman that never hung out with his own grade, but he could crunch numbers faster than anyone in the school.

And you. You, who walked in with a dress that fit perfectly and painted lips that curved into a sweet smile, a smile that Doyoung found himself wanting a glimpse of throughout the night. You were quiet and so much more timid back then, always trying to blend into the background of things.

Nonetheless, Doyoung had shared the same sentiments except an unlikely friendship with Mark really gave him a leg up in high school with the popular crowd. But, Doyoung always saw you and formed a silent camaraderie between the two of you without your knowledge.

Why would you come? He didn’t understand. If it wasn’t for Mark’s insanely theatrical pleas to attend, Doyoung would happily be on his couch watching his reality dating shows. It seemed out of character and some could say the same for him. However, Doyoung didn’t actually know you well enough to understand your reasoning.

Mark nudges Doyoung, “hey… who is that?” Gesturing toward your figure by the makeshift bar, Doyoung tries to think how to formulate your identity to Mark. Did Mark even know of your existence prior? Doyoung thought.

“I think it’s… y/n?” He doesn’t sound confident, in fact, there is a slight quiver when he says your name. Mark confusingly stares at Doyoung and he can read his mind before Mark even asks.

“Who?”

Rolling his eyes, he patiently explains. “Junior year chemistry. I’m pretty sure you two sat next to each other in class.” Doyoung brings his glass to his lips.

Mark tilts his head, an expression of great pondering on his face. Unconsciously, Doyoung’s eyes follow you at every step. He is still trying to process seeing how much you’ve changed.

“How did you remember something like that?” Mark laughs, biting the cookie he has been rolling between his fingers.

Doyoung shrugs nonchalantly, “I had to stare at your big head the whole period and all the posers who tried to be your best friend during class.” It isn’t a complete lie, Doyoung did pay attention to his good friend during class, but only because he had to sit a few rows behind him.

He isn’t going to reveal the silent alliance he created between the two of you. The two quiet ones, navigating the world of high school in their own way and trying to graduate without a trace of who they were during those years. That’s what Doyoung wanted for himself.

“We should catch up, what do you say?” Mark suggests to Doyoung. You’ve made your way toward the center of the draped tables, trapped between Johnny and Jaehyun. Those two idiots probably have no recollection of who you are. “You can reintroduce me.”

Doyoung scoffs, “you don’t need an introduction. You’re literally valedictorian Mark Lee.” The two of them make their way toward you. With every step closer, Doyoung’s throat dries up. If there is any need for liquid courage, it would be now.

The truth is that Doyoung has exchanged several small conversations with you during your adolescence, so you two are acquaintances at best. However, there was one summer between the first and second year of college where the two of you ran into each other quite frequently. It was enough to where the two of you were actually friends, one could even argue more than that.

Doyoung always hated the heat that came with summers at home. It was partially the reason why he decided to go away for college in a city without changing seasons. Beads of sweat run down the sides of his forehead as he seeks air conditioning in a crowded gelato shop.

He had just finished an intense soccer match with Yuta. It probably was one of the worst decisions to do during the highest temperatures of the year. The copious amount of sunscreen has most likely melted off of his body with the amount of sweat he was producing and all his water dried up from sitting in the sun.

He digs in his pockets for spare change for the sweet treat, not thinking how much he would be suffering from the hot weather.

“I can help the next person.” A voice calls and Doyoung is frantically rummaging through his pockets for more bills. When he looks up, a familiar face shares a slightly shocked expression over the fridge counters. You call his name and instantly, Doyoung feels flushed at your great memory.

Your name tag hangs crookedly on your apron and Doyoung recognizes it immediately. “Hey! It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have expected to bump into you.” Your giddiness warms Doyoung’s chest. He had forgotten how inviting you were the moment you would speak. Your features were slightly the same, but definitely a bit older. You weren’t wearing your glasses and your hair was neatly pulled into a ponytail.

“I just came back for the summer.” Doyoung pulls out some loose change, damp from his sweaty hands. “When did you work here?”

“I started the summer after we graduated. I come back during the breaks to help out.” Before Doyoung could respond, a voice cuts the feverish reunion and reminds him he is holding up the line for gelato.

You chuckle timidly to yourself, “anyways, what can I get you?”

Doyoung, now pressured by the line of impatient customers, chooses his favorite mango sorbet before he could glance at any other options. When you ring him up, he counts his change in his palm and groans.

“Ah, I’m short two dollars. It’s okay, I won’t get it. I’m sorry to waste your time.” Doyoung pouts, ready to hide under a rock for being a complete embarrassment the first time you are seeing each other again.

You grasp his wrist quickly, “Wait, it’s on me.” Placing the cone in his hand, you fiddle with something on the register and smile sweetly at him.

Doyoung feels the world stop and can’t find the words to express his gratitude. “Thanks.” He whispers, deer eyes wide and mouth open.

“No problem. It was good seeing you again, Doyoung.” You’re already trying to move on to help the next available customer, while Doyoung mindlessly blinks at the cone in his hand. It was really nice seeing you and he wonders to himself if there could be another chance.

It’s a relief when Mark saves you from the conversation with Johnny and Jaehyun. He does so happily and cluelessly at the tactics of their flirting and lack of your identity. It actually almost comes to a shock to you that Mark remembered you, not that the two of you shared any conversation between one another during class. It isn’t until your eyes fall upon the other individual behind him.

All tall and lean, Doyoung stands before you after all this time. The memories of that one summer together flash by in a millisecond and all the feelings come rushing back like adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Then, a mixture of disappointment and sadness fill your heart, gazing upon Doyoung’s stare, it’s apologetic. With Mark’s chirpiness in the way, you try your best to pretend that you and Doyoung had no prior affairs.

“Wow, can you believe how long it’s been? My mom still talks about your valedictorian speech, Mark.” Doyoung can see right through you. The fakeness is full in your tone, like you’re trying so hard to convince everyone that you’re fine and after all this time, alright with seeing Doyoung.

“Yeah, that speech. I swear I blacked out because I can’t even remember it.” Mark laughs, rubbing the back of his neck in a shy manner. “But how have you been, y/n?”

“I’ve been good. Busy with work and enjoying life at the same time.” Keeping your answer vague, you direct your attention to Doyoung. “How have you been?”

He is taken aback by the sudden shift, despite very clearly being part of this three way conversation without any contribution other than his presence. Clearing his throat, he begins with, “good. I’ve been busy with work too.”

Mark continues, poking at Doyoung’s arm to slightly tease him. “This guy became a workaholic after we graduated college. He is the first person I knew that got a job right away and has been slaving away since.”

Doyoung feels embarrassed as his friend describes the lamest life that he has been living. He almost speaks up to defend himself or mention how all those years of hard work has earned him a golden plaque for his loyalty with the company.

“That’s really impressive, Doyoung.” Your breathy compliment causes his heart to skip a beat. He looks at you, noting the sadness in your eyes. “I’ve been jumping around jobs for awhile. It’s been hard figuring out what I want to do with my career, sometimes I think back on how easy life was when I was scooping gelato.”

Gelato takes Doyoung back to that summer again. All the warm nights he waited for you to close up the shop, how your clothes would smell like sweet waffle batter, and you’d always come out with a scoop of mango sorbet just for him. All the nights he wished he was brave enough to kiss you.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to wait for me!” Your smile doesn’t leave your face upon seeing him outside the shop, hands in his pockets and head up high watching the stars. At this point, it’s routine that the boy would show up five minutes before closing time and patiently wander outside until you were ready to leave.

You thought it was a coincidence to bump into him after one of your shifts, but he kept showing up. After a few times, you began to realize that he was intentionally waiting for you. Never questioning why, Doyoung walked you home every night as you two reminisced about the moments in high school or new memories you both had made in college.

Slowly, you two got to know each other very well. Doyoung told you about his dreams and you told him about your family. He knew your closest friends and your favorite memories about them. You knew facts about his brother and their upbringing, family traditions during holidays and vacations spent at the ski lodge despite not knowing how to ski.

Occasionally, the two of you would stop by boardwalk and walk down to the beach. Doyoung would pat off the sand to the bench for you to sit beside him. You’d keep a respectable distance, with your hands in your lap and hair blowing in the warm wind. Doyoung’s eyes would sparkle along with the street lamps and you’d both be secretly enchanted by one another.

These were the summer nights that you wished upon the moon and stars that Doyoung would kiss you.

“You worked at the gelato shop by the boardwalk?” Mark asked, excited and completely oblivious to the can of worms he is about to open leading with that question.

Chuckling, you glance sly at Doyoung. “Yes, it was my summer job. My sister knew the manager that worked there, so I’d help out during the summer when I came home.”

Mark lightly slaps Doyoung on the chest and he coughs at the sudden impact, jolting and nearly spilling the drink in his hand. “Doyoung used to rave about the mango sorbet at that place, didn’t you?”

Doyoung nodded. It comes as a confirmation to you that Mark doesn’t know anything that happened between you and Doyoung that summer. You’re all laughing awkwardly, Doyoung a bit more nervously than you and Mark.

“Yeah and he’d always say how it was his favorite of all time, that nothing could compare–”

“--Okay, Mark. I think we can drop the mango sorbet debate.” Doyoung firmly pats Mark on the shoulder to get him to please shut the fuck up. He couldn’t take any more of his friend’s clueless babbling, especially not to you about all the subliminal messages.

“It’s good. They make it in house, peeled over a hundred mangoes in the back every morning.” Speaking very matter of factly, your face is full of angst.

Mark and Doyoung blink at you in disbelief. He feels bad about all the nights you’d get him a scoop, not knowing you practically worked away your life for it. “Wait, seriously?”

“No.” You laugh and your face lightens up, “that would be actual hell if I did. We had frozen mangoes with a premade syrup.” Doyoung forgot about your humor and how much he enjoyed it. He found himself laughing along, thinking about how melodic your sounds of happiness are.

In the midst of your chuckles, someone calls for Mark from across the auditorium. He excuses himself and hurries joyfully over to another old classmate. The air instantly becomes suffocating between you and Doyoung. Without a third party there to ignore the elephant in the room, the two of you avert eye contact and stand stiffly.

“So..” Doyoung clears his throat, unsure how to work around the awkwardness. “Why did you decide to come? I never thought I’d see you at something as lame as this.”

“Are you implying I’m too cool to show up here?” He got you to relax a bit, earning a small chuckle at how he phrased his question. Your shoulders drop the tension that caused it to stick by your chin.

“Of course.” You weren’t necessarily popular back in high school, so you had no reason to come back and gloat about the past. He isn’t sure about your current social life, but surely it isn’t lonely enough to want to come back and rekindle old ones, especially with these amateurs.

“Well, I appreciate that thought. I had a feeling you’d be here.” Your eyes wander the floor, calculating your next words very carefully. While you had no idea how Doyoung feels about you right now, you wanted to test the waters. If it comes to be bad, then you can avoid him for the rest of your life. If it turns out well, who knows? There wouldn’t be another missed chance.

“Oh god, I’m so uncool that you’d expect me to show up?” Doyoung pretends to be offended, or maybe he actually is. You aren’t sure, but he holds his hand to his chest as if he is. “I’ll have to rebrand myself going forward.”

“No, no. It’s not you. I saw Mark tag you in the comments of the announcement post.” Peering up, Doyoung lets out an exasperated sigh at the fact that Mark was the culprit. He should’ve known that Mark basically announced their attendance via social media. “So, I figured you might show up.”

“It is a hundred percent Mark. He dressed me himself and dragged me out the door to come to this.” He rolls his eyes and finishes his drink in one big gulp.

Doyoung scans the room one last time at all the people that came to the reunion. To his surprise, there was a decent amount of attendees and everyone looked like themselves more or less. Everyone remained recognizable to a degree, but no one made an entrance like you did.

Then, the conversation clicks in his head. Like someone turned the lights on in his head, he understands the intent behind your responses. You didn’t come to see him, perhaps?

It is as if you could see the gears in his mind turn in real time. You smile and close the distance between the two of you. “I came to this lame reunion because I wanted to see you again.”

And like that, Doyoung is brought back to the world stopping feeling he felt several years ago in that gelato shop, your hand on his wrist and a cone of mango sorbet in his hand. His eyes resembled a baby deer in headlights and his mouth agape. His heart is loud in his ears and pressure in his throat.

He isn’t sure how he should proceed. Doyoung fumbled his chances with you long ago, at least that’s what he had thought. Barely processing your confession, he stammers over his words.

“Want to head out?”

A wide grin spreads across your lips, lifting your cheeks high on your face. “What about Mark?”

“He’ll manage.” Doyoung doesn’t even look for his good friend in the crowd, knowing that Mark was going to leave him for a random old acquaintance sooner or later into the night. This, however, was an opportunity Doyoung didn’t know he’d ever come across again. “I’ve waited long enough to have a chance like this again.”

Your eyes light up at his statement, like a spark to a new flame erupting inside of you. Doyoung extends his hand for you to take and softly, you accept his grip and let him guide you outside of that dreary gymnasium.

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“Did you know that Bethany had the biggest crush on you?” Kicking your feet in the air, you’re giggling at the silly high school secrets you had always kept to yourself. Doyoung shoots up from the blanket on the sand and turns to face you, utterly horrified by the new piece of old information.

You had an early shift today and managed to catch the sunset with Doyoung. He had brought his picnic blanket for you two to enjoy the views right on the beach. The pink and orange hues paint the sky above you, faint sounds of seagulls in the distance and of waves crashing against the shore set the mood.

You two could talk for hours, without a care in the universe and any concept of time. Doyoung is mesmerized by your perspective and way with words. You’re astonished by the wisdom and empathy Doyoung holds. From one quiet kid to another, you two sure felt comfort in each other.

“Blonde Beth?!” Doyoung exclaims.

You sit up with him, matching the higher level of energy. “Yes. She was so into you!”

He blinks in disbelief, never thinking someone like Bethany would have a crush on him in high school. Not that he is any better now, but he isn’t sure how well he was perceived in his adolescents. “How did you know?”

“You’re always such a skeptic.” Your eyes watch the horizon. The round, golden sun barely hits the glimmering water. “I sat at the same table as her and her friends in math class. She talked about you quite often.”

Doyoung follows your gaze toward the sunset. He contemplates long and hard. “What a strange crush.”

Scoffing, you briefly glance over at him. There, Doyoung sits with his knees hugged to his chest and a look of deep thought. The sun kisses his skin so lovingly, highlighting his sharp facial features. The light breeze blows his tousled bangs over his forehead. Doyoung looks like he was chiseled by the gods, just absolutely unreal.

It strikes you like a chord. In the midst of this summer sunset, you were falling for Doyoung.

When he peers over and meets your eyes, something drops in the pit of your stomach. A sudden shyness accompanies your chest and it compels you to look away, but you remain locked in and lost in his starry pupils. You find yourself breathless, mouth open to speak but words caught in your throat.

Nonetheless, you catch yourself before it becomes suspicious. “W-Why would it be strange?” Gulping, your mind is running circles at your realization.

“Because I swear she hated me. I would always beat her by one point in our exams and there was always a rivalry between us.” Doyoung ponders, barely able to make out the memories of the girl from his classes. He never acknowledged her enough to remember.

He hears your chuckle, snapping his attention at you. “You’re so dense. She probably had an enemies to lovers type thing going on for you.”

“A what?” Doyoung snarls.

“Enemies to lovers… like you hated each other so much that you ended up liking them.” Your voice grows small at the ridiculous explanation. You may have revealed too much of your personal interests and hobbies to a boy who only reads textbooks and self help books.

It was Doyoung’s turn to laugh, but right in your face at the silly description. “Is that something you like reading in your literature?”

“Perhaps. I’ve already said too much.” You fume, laying back down on the blanket. Your back hits the firm sand with a thud and you close your eyes out of embarrassment.

“I’ll confirm with you right now that I’m more of a friends to lovers type guy. I can never hate someone so much that I end up liking them. My disdain for them would linger.” The blanket shifts a bit underneath you. When you open your eyes, he is hovering over you with a kind grin.

A veiny arm is situated by either side of your head. You nearly gasp at the sudden perspective of Doyoung above you, keeping your own arms close to your chest. Your heart races quickly, anticipating his next move.

“You’re not trying to fall asleep on the beach, right?” He laughs, his chain slipping out of his shirt and dangling from his neck. “If you’re tired, let me walk you back.”

A rush of flustered emotions cascade over your weak body. Dizziness quickly accompanies your head, like the sight of Doyoung looking dreamily above you is enough to cause you to faint. You pat your hot cheeks, giving small slaps to wake you from this embarrassing feeling you’re experiencing over a friend.

Doyoung laughs at your gesture, oblivious to why you’re just hitting yourself. “Enough, don’t want you to hurt your pretty face.”

Like a straw to a camel’s back, that is the last thing you’ll let yourself get ruffled over. Sitting up, you’re inches from Doyoung’s lips. He blinks at your sudden proximity and immediately widens his eyes.

Gulping, your breath dances softly on his cherry red pout. “Let’s go.”

He follows your lead, grabbing his blanket in a swift motion and dusting off the sand from the fabric. Nonetheless, you don’t wait around or help him. Instead, you’re already up on the curb and recollecting everything that just happened, all the feelings that had surfaced. Confused, but excited to feel your heart bursting with the rays of the summer sun.

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“So, this is where you live. I remember requesting a tour for one of the units when it was in its developmental phase. I’m happy to see that it lives up to the pictures and that someone I know lives here.” You walk around Doyoung’s living room aimlessly, pinching at the cover of the couch, dusting your finger on the window shades, inspecting the ceiling fixtures.

“You’re restless. Take a seat before you spot something that will cause me to hyperfixate.” He chuckles, patting the seat next to him on the sofa and placing a glass of water for you on a cute coaster.

For a brief moment, you hesitate sitting so close to him. It wasn’t like all the ill feelings you held simply disappeared upon seeing him. There is still a part of you that didn’t forgive him, didn’t wish to be so friendly again.

Nonetheless, Doyoung had always been attentive and observant. He catches on immediately, scooting over to another chair that had a big stuffed penguin plush. Clearing his throat, he gestures to the spot once more now that he created a comfortable distance. “Why did you decide on another place?”

“It was closer to my ex at the time.” Your casualness catches Doyoung off guard, as he watches you finally take a seat. “He kept complaining about our commute to each other and I was in need of a new apartment fast, so it just settled that way.”

Doyoung nods, like he understands despite not fully. He can’t imagine moving closer for anyone beside himself or going without a compromise from both parties. “Then, does your ex still live near you?”

“No, I told him to move far away so that I would never have to see him again. I’m all about setting boundaries.” The person Doyoung knew you to be would never have been that bold, would not have known how to set boundaries firmly. Like an ember catching a light, a spark appears in his eyes as he takes in your physicalities again.

Now under proper lighting, Doyoung can really see all of you. The dress did more for you than he had noticed before, bringing out your confidence and kissing your skin tone. The satin on your lips is seductive, but saccharine paired with your smile. Voluminous curls frame your face perfectly and when he finally takes a long look at your features – he is astonished all over again at how beautiful you are.

He clears his throat, “boundaries are important.” It’s all he can say while still enamored by your newfound confidence and looks.

“What about you? Have you been in any relationships since we last saw each other?”

Doyoung tries to piece together his response delicately, mostly because he didn’t want to sound like a complete loner and corporate loser. Truthfully, after the summer together, Doyoung could not stop thinking about you. It was an endless cycle of wanting to reach out again, but he never found it in himself to do so. When you nearly fell off the face of the digital world, he tried to put his efforts into other people.

Failing horribly, he couldn’t find anything remotely close to what you and he had shared in a few months. A connection so powerful and genuine, a fresh breath of air that filled his lungs every time he thoughtfully inhaled. A feeling that warmed not only his skin, but his heart that he no longer despised the hot weather. Doyoung found himself looking for you in everyone he met, only to be faced with utter disappointment when they were nowhere close.

With all his withered attempts at romance, he gave up. He settled on being alone for this portion of his life and didn’t desire that fleeting feeling of romance he had once felt. Because at the end of all his days, he’d come home to this empty apartment and pretend to be content with himself when he had lost the opportunity to be with you.

So when he begins with his calculated reply, he mentally prepares himself for your reaction. “I haven’t. I’m married to my work.” His eyes flicker at your expression, trying to make out the sympathy in your pupils and dip in your frown.

“You haven’t changed at all.” When you examine Doyoung, he is just as you remembered him that summer. With his sharp features, quick wit, quiet demeanor and all of his dedication, Kim Doyoung remains exactly like how he had left you that temperate night.

He is all the man that you had fallen for and longed for in your present. It’s a bit sad all the times you would wallow in it — the crush that became undying on a man who only smiled brighten when you were around. A man who is intelligent, trivial, and hungry for success that he is willingly to dedicate his entire life to it. Yet, he is a man who is also kind, soft, and attentive to others around him that caring for others comes second nature to him.

With the time that has passed since you two last spoke, you had wondered if he had changed to be more cynical, withholding his heart and laughter to those who tried to grow close to him or if he had opened up and shared his kindness to someone who is worthy of it. To your countless of painted possibilities, Doyoung had done neither and a part of you finds immense comfort in him all over again.

Doyoung isn’t sure how to interpret your statement. Greatly puzzled, he tilts his head and asks, “is that a bad thing?” Swallowing the lump of spit gathered in his throat, he anxiously overthinks your implications.

Instantly, you note his change from relaxed to tense. His jaw is clenched as he crosses his legs, neatly folding his hands together and resting them on his lap. You’ve made him uneasy, but it only makes you chuckle at how unnerved he is.

So when you answer him, he is vastly surprised and speechless. “No, I’ve always liked you the way you are.”

He ponders and lets the adrenaline take its course of action. Without another thought or hesitation, he matches your boldness. “You’ve changed.”

The proclamation feels sudden, so much that it genuinely catches you off guard. There is a slight whiplash you experience with how quick Doyoung’s words hit you. Although there is no accusatory tone that lingers, there is some sense of self consciousness.

“Is that bad?” You take his same words to use against him. Instead of feeling tense and perceived, you somehow feel defensive. All the years that you two haven’t encountered one another, you’ve worked hard to be the person you love now.

You acknowledge how quiet and hidden you were in the past. The person that never wanted to be noticed, often wanting to hide behind their hair or clothes. You used to speak just barely above a whisper, scared that any louder would draw the unwanted attention of others around. Only spoke when spoken to, only looked up when tapped, that was just the way you were.

High school was never a comfortable time for you, but wasn’t it like that for everyone? Seemingly awkward and unrevealing to who someone truly is. It had been a feeling that troubled you greatly, that you felt fearful to be too bold, too audacious. You couldn’t wait to graduate silently and move on from that version of yourself.

“No, no. It’s not bad at all.” Doyoung puts his hands up, waving them in a worrisome manner. He settles back into his seat, sitting back against the bouncy cushion and leaning his chin on his fist.

There is a brief stiffness in the air, like Doyoung had more to say. Watching his eyelashes flutter over at you, he eats you up under his long gaze. You shift oddly in your place, heart pounding in your throat and feeling slightly flushed under his spotlight.

He speaks with a low voice, but it is gentle and firm. “I think I see you more clearly now.” His eyes trail down to your toes and back up to the curls that frame your face. An audible gasp escapes your lips, a lack of words fallen upon you.

With every second spent with Doyoung, it has slowly eroded away at the resentment and sadness you felt prior. You wish for nothing more than to be closer to him, to feel his fingertips dance across your hot skin. This is not a foreign feeling, but one that you knew too well.

“Funny that you only see me now when I had been right in front of you for an entire summer.” Fumbling with your purse, you peer away from his sultry stare. The air in the room suffocates you, like a sticky humid day.

“You misinterpret my statement.” He is quick to answer. “I have always seen you. The person who tried so hard to fade in the background in high school, the person who was still trying to figure themselves in college, and now, the person you fully find yourself to be.”

There is a heaviness that fills your chest, like guilt that you had held such a tremendous grudge after so long. Wallowing in your angst, you try to process his words thoughtfully. When you don’t say anything, Doyoung’s voice continues on and his heart fills his words.

“You know, I go back to that summer every year, just recalling and regretting.” Doyoung sighs, emptying his lungs into one breath. He finally feels ready to address the elephant in the room, the words he never said. With you as beautifully before him once again, Doyoung never dared to imagine this chance because he knew he didn’t deserve it.

“What would you have done differently?” You seldomly ask.

And when you glimpse up at him with glossy eyes, Doyoung’s confession pours from his lips effortlessly. “I’d tell you how you made me feel – seen and whole. Because I knew you saw me too and accepted me with all my flaws. It’s like you saw my soul and understood me for the person I was. Then, I’d kiss you, I’d kiss you like the world was ending.”

“Desperately and holding onto the last glimpse of hope?” Chuckling, your heart literally feels like it could burst any second looking at him.

Doyoung stands up, taking small steps forward and closing the distance between you two. Making room for him to sit next to you, his knee radiates heat against your own. He smiles sweetly, “desperately, yes, but as if nothing else mattered than being there with you in that moment.”

Finally face to face, it feels impossible to resist each other’s aura. “I would like that.” Your eyes flicker from his lips to his pupils. His eyebrows raise slightly and like clockwork, the gears in his head are spinning at full force until everything clicks.

Without another thought or a second to lose, Doyoung pulls you toward him by your wrist and your lips land hastily on top of his. Staining him with the color of your lipstick, you’re gliding effortlessly. Immediately, all the romantic feelings from that summer flood both of your chests’.

Doyoung kicks the sand that loosely piles the boardwalk. His hands shoved into his shorts as his attention turned to the sound of your voice. This night between the both of you feels weirdly melancholy. It was a third of the way into summer and you were the only person Doyoung wanted to be around.

Beyond the nostalgia, the family traditions, the dreams, there was one part of each other that you two never shared. All until he hears the drip of sadness in your voice, “you want to know something?”

“Of course.” When it came to you, he wasn’t sure if he had the power to say no.

The stars hang low and the moon twinkles at the highest point of the night. The chatter from the normally busy boardwalk has been replaced by sounds of waves crashing in the distance and all the shops have gone dark. The smell of sweet waffle batter lingers from your clothes and the chilly summer breeze blows at the strands of your hair.

“I’ve still never had my first kiss.” It had been a long kept secret, feeling embarrassed that someone at your age hadn’t experienced a simple kiss. You had thought that the moment you entered college, everything was going to change and you were going to experience it all.

However, the romantic in you wouldn’t allow it. In all the books you read, you only hoped for a magical kiss that swept you off your feet. One that deemed itself memorable, that would have you replaying over and over in your head. A kiss so full of passion that it would destroy you to pull away from.

“It’s nothing amazing.” Doyoung dully answers, noting the pout on your face the moment he says it. He immediately feels bad for damping the mood even further. “Sorry, that’s not what I mean.”

“How was your first kiss?” You lay that million dollar question on him so innocently.

He genuinely couldn’t even remember how his first kiss was. All he could make out was how sweaty his palms were and how he threw up right afterwards. “It was mediocre. I think it was with someone random at a freshman welcoming party. I had too much to drink and barfed on the curb right after it happened.”

The sound of your melodic laugh causes him to follow. “Hey!” He points, the reoccuring grin appearing on his face, “don’t you dare laugh. I shared that in secrecy. It was a very vulnerable moment for me.”

You hold your stomach from the intense chuckles, tears rimming your eyes. “I appreciate the vulnerability. It made me feel a lot better.”

Amidst the robust laughter, Doyoung found himself wanting to be the reason behind your happiness. A burning sensation spread across his chest, intense enough to where he thought he might’ve had a bad sunburn. He peers over at your giggling figure again.

Your mouth opened in a toothy smile, your cheekbones high up on your face. Under the dimly lit boardwalk, Doyoung’s heart races at how stunning you look hunched over and just doing something as simple as laughing. Joy matches you so well and he can’t seem to look away.

It’s like the wind knocked the air out of his lungs, but he falls breathless at the realization. Underneath the stars of this summer night, Doyoung was falling for you.

When your laughter comes to a gradual stop, Doyoung snaps out of his internal confusion of these new blossoming feelings for you. He bids you a small smile, “what I meant to say was that first kisses don’t have to be the special one. All it takes is the right person at the right time. A kiss like that would trump any first kiss.”

“You sure say that with a lot of vindication. Do you think you’ve experienced that yet?” Curious eyes fall upon him, you watch him like a spectacle and he grows nervous under your gaze.

“Definitely not. All I’ve experienced are wrong persons and wrong times.” It is a mindless thought he let escape and he doesn’t hope you read too much between the lines. He surely did not include you in that statement whatsoever. You had to be the right person, deep down somewhere he knew that. “Those are once in a lifetime moments, that's why I think they're so special.”

“I like that perspective.” You nod knowingly. “I hope to experience something like that one day too.” Your head drops to your hands, fiddling your thumbs at the thought of something so remarkable.

Doyoung could kiss you right here. He’d pick up your chin and dive right into you. He’d give you your first kiss and something even more special. Nonetheless, his body remains stuck on his side of the bench. It’s as if he physically cannot get himself to do it, as if rushing into it wouldn’t be a good idea.

He doesn’t know or understand why his body stayed frozen in place. As much as the desire to kiss you stirred within the pit of his stomach, there seems to be a barrier halting him from acting on it. Almost like his mind is telling him that this isn’t the right time, not yet.

Hands in your curls, Doyoung presses his face deeper into you. Both of your hearts pulse rapidly at the long awaited kiss. Your trembling fingertips brush his cheek and his knees grow weak at every inch you touch. Your lips dance together like they’ve known the steps this whole time.

Doyoung kisses you like the world really is ending, like the only two people who exist are you and him. It’s beyond romantic– it’s feverish, transcendent, and special. Kissing him has your feelings bursting into a chaotic, wild flame that only he can put out from this moment forward.

You kiss him like you’ve known him all his life and everything has led up to now, like the right person at the right time. This has been the kiss he has been patiently waiting for, growing for, all of this time has amounted to this one beautiful moment with you. You grip his arm, holding onto him tightly and afraid that he’d let go, that if your lips parted, it would completely destroy you.

Until you’re both gasping for air and joints in pain from the awkward position you’ve made your way in, the kiss comes to an end. Doyoung blinks with round, innocent eyes and puffy stained lips, truly stuck in a daze. His hair resembles a bird's nest, sticking out at random directions and clearly disheveled.

You pull down the part of your dress that managed to ride up on your thighs, tidying the strands of flyaways around your face. When your eyes meet and shyly part, you’re both bursting into laughter and the steamy tension in the tiny apartment dissipates instantly. This is how it should’ve been.

Your thumb smears the remaining lipstick that painted Doyoung’s lips, doing your best to wipe away the mess. He catches your wrist in the midst of it, “I’m sorry for ever hurting you in the past.”

With your mouth agape, you’re unsure how to respond. With a long awaited kiss, came a long awaited apology, that is something that Doyoung knew well. You deserve every ounce of his sincerity and explanation. He gulps, anticipating whatever you may throw in his direction. Despite being full fledged adults, Doyoung feels as if he is back in his early adult years and still foolish when it comes to his feelings for you.

“I just never understood why you ran away, why you had so many excuses.” Reliving that memory has been painful, but less as time passed. It had been a tremendous part of your growth, even if it wasn’t something you wanted to experience.

The end of summer finally dawned on the two of you. Doyoung had been distant the last few days, but played it off as needing to pack for his trip back to college. You respected his space, but it would be a lie if you didn’t hope to see him waiting for you after your final shifts at the gelato shop.

All the bright days and breezy nights spent together were going to stay with you for a long time moving forward. Never did you think that you and Kim Doyoung would reunite and grow so close. Along with that, you never thought that you’d grow to like him so much.

You’ve tossed and turned long enough. Now that Doyoung is leaving, you’d feel regretful if you didn’t let your good friend know at the very least how you felt. So, on the night before he makes his way back to school, he agrees to meet you on the pier for a goodbye.

Doyoung is already leaning over the ledge, peering out into the dark waves in deep thought. He had been so conflicted the past few weeks, coming to the realization of his romantic feelings for you. He knew that meeting you again and growing close had that possibility, but he was unable to think that far ahead. He just wished to enjoy every waking moment with you.

This summer with you had been a dream, one that he didn’t want to wake from. Now that he had to go, he didn’t know how to proceed. He had considered a confession, but what then? In the sheer chance that you reciprocate, he couldn’t give you the relationship you wanted. He couldn’t be there waiting for you after your shifts like he did here. He was going to be miles apart and so zoned into his studies.

The internal conflict ate him alive, avoiding to see you on the last few days of summer you two had left. It was selfish on his part, but couldn’t let his feelings grow more to the point of recklessness. Doyoung could not afford to be reckless.

You come running toward him with a gigantic smile on your face, the one that makes Doyoung naturally grin back. He loves seeing you this way and his chest burns with an aching pain at the reality that awaits him.

“Hey! How’s packing been?” You greet him, exasperated from the light jog.

“I managed to finish a bit ago. I realized that I should pack more of the sweaters I left behind. It’s not as warm out there as it is here.” Doyoung shoves his hands into his jean pockets, the wind picking up the ends of his shirt and blowing lightly.

“That’s good.” It’s all you could say before mustering up the courage to speak the real reason why you’re here tonight. Your eyes drift to the waves crashing along the shore and the footprints left from earlier in the day getting washed away. Your throat nearly closes, but you knew it had to be said.

“Doyoung, I actually came out to tell you something important.”

He chokes up, afraid to know and unprepared for what you were going to say. Nodding, he looks at you with a blank expression.

“I had such a fun summer with you that I found myself growing to have romantic feelings for you. Do you feel the same?” Your confession evokes a sense of excitement and joy, Doyoung could do cartwheels. Nonetheless, they soon become squashed by the impending truths of reality. As much as Doyoung wanted to confess and tell you how he felt the same, he chose not to.

Instead, he chooses to find a way to reject you. Dragging it out would be more painful than ending things between the two of you now. He thought this had to be the best option for your happiness.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going away tomorrow.” He can’t answer your question because then he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from revealing all the ways you make his heart race and palms sweaty. He can’t hold onto a hope for the two of you to exist, knowing that the distance and his dedication to his studies came first. He wasn’t ready.

Your smile drops immediately, being replaced with a frown. “I know, but we can work things out. You’re not too far–”

“I can’t do the distance. I can’t sacrifice the time from my studies.” Doyoung can see your heart shatter with every word and he doesn’t know how to help. His own heart crushed in his chest and nothing, but sharp pain reveals itself.

“You can’t or you won’t?” You’re biting back tears. You didn’t expect the confession to go like this. Not that you expected him to reciprocate, but you didn’t think he’d chew and spit out your feelings like this. All this time, all his gestures, all his smiles, were they really not meant for you?

He says the same excuses again, which only frustrates you further. It didn’t feel like he was being honest with you, but he refused to give another reason. “I thought that this summer was special to us.”

Doyoung doesn’t wish to upset you more, so he says his last words to you before running off. “Summer is not enough.” You’re whiplashed by his cruel response, left speechless as you watch his figure dash off and down the pier.

You’re left alone and staring at his fading shadow. A hole in your chest from your heart being ripped out and trampled on the ground. As a tear runs down your cheek, you think to yourself how Kim Doyoung is a coward, but how you are a fool to think that this summer meant anything more than it was.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Doyoung sighs, that memory haunting him like a nightmare. “I was stupid. Not only was I a coward, but I was thoughtless. I thought that if I ended things there, you wouldn’t be hurt in the long run.”

“Did you always plan to hurt me?”

Doyoung snaps his head over at you, a ghastly expression on his face at your question. “Absolutely not. I-” He searched for the right answer, “I knew that I wasn’t going to be a good boyfriend to you if things continued. I was so imperfect that at the point of my life I was in, I was not ready to be the person you deserved. I wanted to give you the moon and the stars, believe me, but I was a boy who couldn’t even afford a scoop of mango sorbet.”

“Doyoung, the boy I loved was imperfect, but he managed to make sunflowers bloom in my chest and feel as if I wasas loved by the sun. I wanted nothing more than to be yours that summer.” Your hand lightly clasps onto his.

He tightens the grip, “again, I’m so sorry I so selfishly and idiotically ruined things between us, for making you sad. I only wanted to be the reason behind your gorgeous smile. I wanted to reach out all this time, but I couldn’t get over the guilt that built up after all this time. Why would you want someone who hurt you to come back into your life?”

You lifted Doyoung’s chin, bringing his focus back on your face. The connection is electrifying, like an instant buzz that fills your system with a simple look. The way that Doyoung looks at you is like a mesmerized, starstruck fool.

“You hurt me and it took a long time for me to build that bridge and get over it. However, after all these years, you’re all I could think about. That summer is all that floods my mind when I’m alone, that summer of us.” Your gentle words remind him of a softness he had forged a long time ago. A tenderness in your touch, in your gaze, in your tone is enough to break down his walls.

“I’ve wondered about you everyday.” He feels himself so easily drawn to you, so willing to open his pages for you to read. “And everyday, I wished I could get another chance. Would you allow me that? Another chance to be with you?”

It’s like the person you were from that summer awakens inside of you, longing and yearning to be Kim Doyoung’s. This entire night had been full of pockets of nostalgia seeing him again. Remembering, feeling, forgiving. But that question really solidifies that that young kid still lives inside of you, still wanting to love their summer crush as much as they did.

“Yes, I’d give you that chance in a heartbeat.”

Doyoung kisses you again. And again. And again. For every moment under the summer stars that he wished to do so. Your summer love has found its way to your present.

#nct scenarios #doyoung scenario #nct scenario #doyoung scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct imagine #nct doyoung #doyoung #kim doyoung #doyoung x reader #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct #omg finally it worked

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penkura · 1 day

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No One Better

Note: Ahh I didn't know how to go about this, but here it is! It's another in the OP Men as Dads series, but this one is ONLY Zoro and his son. I just had this idea after seeing this OC template on Pinterest, and I had to do it, I couldn't not. I have thoughts floating around for other characters in this same vein of calming down their children, and I will post them separately like this most likely! For now, please enjoy Zoro being a wonderful, soft dad to his little boy. 🥹 I want to have his babies so bad, where is my irl Zoro omg

Your son may be Zoro’s child too, but he’s a big crybaby when either of you are missing from his sight. He could be happily sitting in your lap or on Zoro’s chest, but when Keitaro notices one of you isn’t around, he immediately pouts and begins to cry. At first it’s legitimate tears, until he learns that he can get you with crocodile tears because that’s your baby boy, of course you’re going to run to him when he cries! You figured it out quickly when he instantly started to smile and coo at you the first time he cried crocodile tears to get your attention, Zoro didn’t believe you for a few weeks until your ten-month-old did it to him too. He just loves you and Zoro so much, he wants you both around him all the time.

Zoro is able to calm him down very easily, just by talking to Keitaro gently. An older woman on an island you stopped at was surprised to see how easily Keitaro calmed down and went from nearly sobbing to happy little giggles when Zoro just took him from you and started asking him what was wrong, why was he so upset all of a sudden (he couldn’t see Zoro standing nearby, that was the problem). The woman was highly impressed and said her own husband hadn’t been that good with their children, it made you smile and thank her for the compliment, since you knew Zoro would never.

Keitaro is big enough to sit up on your lap during a party between your crew, the Heart Pirates, and the Kid Pirates when the three of you run into each other. Members of your (now permanently) allied crews coo and fawn over your son, the youngest of all the crews, and he adores the attention he receives from all these new people. Once everyone goes back to drinking and playing games, you choose to stay to the side with Keitaro, keeping him from the alcohol and making sure he stays happy while everything goes on, and he does, looking around at everyone and giggling when he sees Luffy do something funny.

Keitaro is happy and calm until he realizes he doesn’t see Zoro anywhere, making your nearly year old son start to pout and fuss. You try your hardest to calm him down when he really starts to cry and kick his legs because he’s frustrated, quietly speaking to him and placing kisses on his little head to help.

“Hey, little guy,” you feel beyond relived when Zoro comes over, resting his arms on your thighs and getting nose to nose with your son, which starts to calm him down, “What’re you crying for?”

Keitaro slowly calms down, looking at Zoro cross-eyed at first before his eyes fully focus on him, starting to smile and coo again as he puts his tiny hands on Zoro’s face. It makes Zoro smile in return as he takes your son from you, intending to give you a small break.

“Let’s give mama a few minutes to enjoy the party too, yeah?” Zoro gently tosses your son in the air a few times, Keitaro letting out squeals and giggles in response.

You slip away to the girls for a while, Ikkaku giving you a smile and telling you how lucky you are with Zoro, causing you to look back at them with your own smile. Keitaro has his thumb in his mouth as he lays against Zoro’s chest where he can see you, content and slowly falling asleep, while your husband rubs his back to help him relax.

“He’s really the best dad to Keitaro, I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

#one piece x reader #reader insert #zoro x reader #op men as dads #fem!reader #roronoa zoro x reader #good dad zoro

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rubycruzin4abruzin · 2 days

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Forbidden Crown: ch. II

Summary: Five years after your last visit to Tir Asleen, you finally get to see Kit again. Although you promised your mother you wouldn’t let Kit influence you, her fiery personality and strong will draw you in, and open your eyes to a whole new world of excitement and adventure.

Pairing: kit tanthalos x princess!reader

Contains: fluff, reader’s subtle mommy issues, rebellious kit, weapons, sword fighting, stumbling upon mature illustrations, childlike innocence, implied parent death, one bed, sneaking out

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: this chapter does contain adolescents stumbling upon some ‘sensual’ illustrations in library books. It is purely meant to be part of a ‘coming of age,’ and I even had others proofread it to make sure it comes off that way. Anyways, here’s the second chapter of Forbidden Crown! :)

Almost immediately upon returning to Azarenth, you began pressing your parents about revisiting Tir Asleen.

Your inquiries began innocently. “Mommy, can we go and see the twins today?”

Each time, she’d shake her head. “Not today, sweetheart. Our responsibilities leave no time for such an endeavor.”

Then, you resorted to excuses. “Father, we’ve been so busy, we could really use a holiday. How about a trip to Tir Asleen?”

He’d chortle at the suggestion. “Princess, if we were to go on holiday, it certainly would not be to a place such as Tir Asleen!”

Every day, you would pose similar questions, and as time went on, your parents' refusals became curt, tinged with vexation. Eventually, you ceased questioning altogether, not wanting to further irritate them.

Despite your silence, your mind occupied itself with thoughts of Kit. You longed to keep in contact with her, but your parents thought you weren’t old enough to have your own carrier pigeon. In an attempt to keep her close, you even secretly wore her breeches beneath your dresses until they no longer fit, then kept them stashed in the bottom of your storage chest, hidden from your parents or any prying maids.

Every day, you wondered how she was doing, and every day, you wondered if she thought of you as well.

It wasn’t until just before the summer of your tenth year that you thought you would ever see Kit again. On a golden May afternoon, you heard your mothers voice calling you in from playing outside with some children from the nearby village. Disgruntled, you bid your friends farewell and trudged back in through the castle doors.

Upon entering, you immediately saw your parents sitting in the Great Hall, hands folded on the table in front of them. You gulped; this room was rarely ever used, with the exception of large gatherings or very important meetings. Hypothetical scenarios swarmed your mind as you desperately tried to figure out what horrible thing you had done to warrant a meeting in the Great Hall.

Walking in, you took a seat across from your parents, folding your hands in your lap and refusing eye contact.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we called you in here,” your mother began, never one to beat around the bush.

You nodded slowly, still declining to meet her gaze. Your father cleared his throat, taking over the conversation.

“Princess,” he began. “As you’re well aware, you are a child of nobility. It is very important to us that you grow up receiving the best education and training possible, and that includes learning crucial life skills such as independence and adaptability.”

Furrowing your brow, you nodded, confused. You didn’t have a clue where this conversation was going and frankly wished your parents would just get to the point so you could go back outside.

Almost as if she could read your mind, your mother jumped in. “Your father and I have been exchanging letters with the Queen of Tir Asleen. You remember Sorsha and her twins, don’t you?”

Your ears perked up at this, the mere mention of your long-lost friends sending a wave of sweet nostalgia to wash over you. “Of course! I loved playing with Kit.”

“And Airk,” your mother interrupted, hardening her gaze.

Forgetting that your mother wasn’t necessarily a fan of the Princess of Tir Asleen, you were quick to agree. “Yes, Airk too, surely.”

“After some back and forth,” your mother took a deep breath before delivering the news. “Queen Sorsha has agreed to foster you temporarily. You will be staying in Tir Asleen with her and her children for the summer months.”

Just for a brief moment, you swore your heart stopped beating before a burst of warmth exploded in your chest. Three whole months spent with Kit? Staying in the Tir Asleen castle? Away from your parents? The very thought made you tingle with excitement.

“This is not a holiday,” your mother interrupted your daydream as if she could see your thoughts. “You will be studying under an array of tutors and governesses, receiving a rigorous education and learning proper court etiquette. I hope you don’t think you’re going to spend the entire summer rolling around in mud with that filthy girl.”

Your mother’s slander against Kit made your blood boil underneath your skin, evaporating to your face and turning your cheeks a dark crimson. Every cell in your body wanted to stand up and scream at your mother before shouting Kit’s praises. Instead, you decided to seethe quietly, fearing that speaking up could jeopardize the trip.

As the conversation came to a close and you got up to leave, your mother called your name just before you made it out the door. You took a deep breath, forcing a grin as you turned to face her.

“Yes, mother?” Your voice came out strained and tense.

Her expression turned serious as her jaw stilled, mouth tight in a straight line. She peered at you through her brow, not breaking her gaze for one moment.

“Don’t let that Kit girl influence you. I mean it.”

The following fortnight seemed to drag as you waited impatiently for June to arrive. Each day seemed to tick by slower than the last, until you managed to develop an irrational hatred for the month of May.

When the morning of your departure finally arrived, a servant entered your bedchamber to fetch your storage chest, only to find the room empty and the chest missing. After informing the castle and a brief moment of panic, one of the guards found you already in the carriage, having dragged your storage chest by yourself all the way outside at the first sign of daybreak.

“May we leave now?” You asked, ever impatient.

The castle staff shared a hearty chuckle over your eagerness when your parents stepped outside, dismissing the crew before bidding their final farewells.

“Luck be with you in Tir Asleen, Princess,” your father began, bearing his familiar kind smile. “You’re not to worry about traveling alone, I hired the best coachman in all of Azarenth to ensure your safety.”

Returning your fathers warm grin, you leaned out the carriage window to wrap your arms around his neck. Your mother, nowhere near as affectionate as her husband, simply gave you a tight smile and a curt nod.

“Be on your best behavior for Sorsha, please.”

The day-long journey to Tir Asleen was long and winding, the wheels against cobblestone bricks gently rocking the carriage. Traveling alone for the first time had you a tad nervous, but the friendly coachman made sure to keep you company.

Soon, as the late afternoon sun began its descent, the castle of Tir Asleen gradually came into view. Nostalgic memories rushed through your mind as the stone battlements seemed to pierce the clouds. You leaned your head out the carriage window, feeling the warm wind on your face and breathing in the familiar smell of dew.

The carriage came to a halt at the castle entrance, the sudden stillness of the car making you wonder how long your hands had been shaking. Peering out the carriage window, you saw Airk near the front, sword sparring with another boy around his age.

Disappointment shadowed your face at the absence of Kit, but you tried to hide it. As you waited for the coachman to gather your things, you busied yourself watching Airk spar. He was quite the swordsman, staying quick on his feet, and countering each attack with focus clouding his uncovered face.

Despite Airk’s impressive skill, his opponent still seemed to have the upper hand. You couldn’t quite make out who he was due to a faceplate covering his features, but his technique was precise, perfected, almost as if he’d had to work twice as hard as Airk to get where he was.

Suddenly, Airk momentarily lost his footing on a slippery rock, allowing his mysterious opponent to take advantage and deliver one final strike. Airk tumbled to the ground, the anonymous swordsman moving to stand over him as he conceded defeat.

You couldn’t help but erupt into applause, after all, duels rarely happened in your kingdom. Startled, Airk and his friend turned towards you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’d arrived. You were about to approach Airk and exchange pleasant greetings when his masked adversary suddenly removed his faceplate, shaking out his hair and revealing his identity.

Shock hung from your features. This mysterious man wasn’t mysterious at all! Or a man! It was Kit!

“Kit!” You exclaimed, your voice coming out as an involuntary squeal.

She called your name back and ran to you, enveloping you in a hug. You buried your face into the crook of her neck, damp with sweat from the humidity of the faceplate.

“Your hair got so long!” You commented after pulling away.

It was true. Kits original short chop now flowed in waves down to her mid-torso, making her look oddly feminine even in trousers.

“I hate it,” Kit groaned, pinching a lock of her hair and frowning down at it. “It gets so hot, and I hate having to put it up.”

As she fidgeted with her hair, your gaze traveled down to her wrist, noticing a sandstone silk strand peeking out of her sleeve. Curious, you took her hand and pushed her sleeve up, revealing the ribbon she had stolen from you all those years ago.

“My ribbon!” You exclaimed, surprised and genuinely touched. “You still wear it?”

“Every day,” Kit answered truthfully. “It reminds me of you.”

You turned her wrist over in your hand, admiring the ribbon. The previously bright pink silk had faded into a blush beige, bleached from sun exposure. Once perky bunny-ear loops now drooped down her wrist, tickling the bottom of her palm. It was almost unrecognizable, this old ribbon that time had not been kind to, and the fact that Kit had worn it all these years warmed a special place in your heart.

Airk cleared his throat, startling you slightly as you had forgotten he was there. You offered him an apologetic smile, letting go of Kit’s wrist to shake his hand.

“Forgive me,” you chuckled nervously. “It’s good to see you again as well, Airk.”

The rest of the evening was spent catching up; the three of you laid on patches of grass and recounted events from the last five years until a maid rang the dinner bell. Even at dinner, all of you prattled incessantly. Airk eventually found he’d said enough and focused on his meal, but you and Kit talked through mouthfuls of food, much to Sorsha’s chagrin.

“You can eat or you can speak, but it’s terribly impolite to combine the two,” she scolded.

After the third or fourth lecture, you noticed how they would only come from Sorsha. A brief glance around the table confirmed your suspicions: Madmartigan was absent.

“Where’s your dad?” You whispered to Kit, worried that asking Sorsha directly would upset her.

Kit, however, perked up at your question, eyes sparkling at the mention of her role model. “He’s on a quest! He’s going to fight inside a worm!”

“He’s trying to destroy the Wyrm from the inside, Kit.” Airk corrected.

Kit brushed off her brother, ignoring his comment and continuing. “He’s been fighting the Wyrm for some time now. He’s so busy, but he always has a letter delivered to us on the first of every month!”

She sprang up from her chair, dashing to fetch the most recent letter before being stopped by Sorsha. “Kit, how many times have I said not to leave the table without being excused?”

Kit spun around with a dramatically curtsy and mimed pulling on an invisible skirt. “Mother, may I please be excused from this fine supper? Oh mummy, please may I?”

You stifled a giggle at her theatrics. Sorsha sighed, dismissing her with the wave of her hand. Kit sped out of the room, returning seconds later with a piece of paper and thrusting it into Sorsha’s hands.

“This one arrived today.” Kit explained, leaning over her mother’s shoulder.

Despite Sorsha’s annoyance with her daughter, she couldn’t help but smile as she gingerly pinched the corners of her husband's letter.

“My dear family,” she began reading as Airk rushed over, joining Kit in reading over their mother’s shoulder. “As I venture forth on this perilous mission, know that my thoughts are never far from all of you. My journey to confront the Wyrm may be ripe with danger, but carrying the strength of our family has gotten me through some challenging moments.”

“To my daughter, Kit,” Kit perked up at the mention of her name, leaning farther into the letter as Sorsha continued to read. “Your unyielding spirit and fearlessness are sure to serve you well in all that you do. Always remember to keep your sword sharp and your wits sharper.”

“To Airk,” it was Airk’s turn to lean into the letter. “My son, every day you continue to amaze me. I look forward to returning and watching you grow into the man I know you’re destined to be.”

“And to my lovely wife,” Sorsha’s voice cracked as she read. “Not a day goes by where I don’t picture your face. You are the light that leads me through the darkest tunnels.”

Sorsha sniffed, attempting to discreetly wipe away a tear before reading the last section. “I promise to return one day, victorious and bearing plenty of stories. Until then, I hope you’ll take comfort in these letters. All my love, Madmartigan.”

Kit looked up from the letter, eyes shining with undeterrable admiration. “When I grow up, I want to be just like him.”

Later that night, as you readied yourself for slumber in one of the castle's many guest rooms, a knock interrupted your solitude. You granted permission to enter, fixing your posture and bracing yourself to be greeted by Sorsha. However, your tension eased when the door cracked and Kit’s face poked through.

“I need your help with something,” she whispered, cautious not to disturb any sleeping residents.

“Why? What happened?” You inquired.

Without another word, Kit seized your hand and led you away. You protested at first, feeling naked in your thin nightgown outside the walls of your bedchamber, but Kit's hand wrapped around yours felt soothing, like a warm glove on a cold day, and you knew that no matter where you went, you would be safe as long as Kit was there.

She led you to the end of the hall, down a flight of stairs, and through the doors of the basement, only letting go of your hand to ignite a taper candle and shed some light into the dark room. Weapons of all shapes and sizes mounted the walls, their silver blades illuminating in the candle light. Various types of armor decorated the corners, including the faceplate Kit had worn earlier in the day.

“Is this…”

“The armory.” Kit answered your unspoken question.

You nodded, marveling at the room. Azarenth had an armory in their castle too, but it was heavily guarded, and strictly off limits to you.

Kit plucked a sword from the wall and laid it flat against her palms, presenting it to you. “I need you to cut my hair.”

“What?” You searched Kit’s face for any sign of humor, but found none as she stood completely serious.

“I need you to cut my hair,” she repeated. “I can’t reach back there, and Airk won’t do it because he’s afraid of getting in trouble.”

“What if I get in trouble?” You asked, still in disbelief at her request.

“You won’t,” she replied, completely sure of herself.

Kit still sensed your hesitation, so she put the sword down and took both of your hands in hers. “You’re not going to get in trouble, I promise. My mom won’t let me cut my hair because she says it makes me look ‘pretty,’ but what good is beauty if I’m constantly uncomfortable? Please, I really need you to do this for me.”

There it was again, that feeling of safety that surmounted whenever Kit held your hand. You sighed defeatedly, nodding in agreement. Kit beamed at you as she placed the sword in your hands, but the large piece of metal turned out to be much heavier than you expected and you ended up dropping it, the sword falling to the ground with a loud clatter.

“I haven’t actually… used a sword before,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Hmm…” Kit thought for a second before her face brightened once again, running to a nearby rack and picking up an oddly-shaped knife. “Dagger?”

You agreed, and Kit handed you the dagger, showing you how to grip the handle. As you clutched this foreign weapon, a new sense of power washed over you. You suddenly felt invincible, safe, but a different kind of safe from when Kit held your hand.

“How short do you want it?” You asked, still examining the jagged piece of metal.

Kit shrugged. “I just don’t want to have to tie it up in order to spar.”

She turned around, facing away from you and shaking out her long locks so they all flowed down her back. You gulped, gathering her hair in a handful just below her neck, hands shaking as the previous power evaporated into thin air and replaced itself with anxiety. With one quick slash it was all over, the sharp blade passing through her delicate hairs with ease. A sigh left your lips, relieved to have completed your task. You glanced down to admire your handiwork, but were met with a sight so horrific that the dagger fell from your unsteady hands, dropping to the floor with a sharp clang.

Her hair, once long and beautiful, was now absolutely botched. Tresses meant to float over her shoulders now curled just under her ears, while crooked sprigs stuck out in all directions.

“How does it look?” Kit asked, but you were too afraid to answer.

When you didn’t, she picked up the sword off the ground, admiring her reflection in the shiny metal. Her jaw dropped, eyes wide with shock. She reached up, carefully running her fingers over the butchered ends.

A lump rose in your throat as you became overwhelmed with guilt. “Kit, I’m so…”

“I love it.” Kit said in a low voice.

You blinked, not quite registering what she said. “Huh?”

“I love it!” Kit repeated, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s exactly what I wanted: short!”

“But it’s so choppy and uneven!” You exclaimed, confused by her elation.

Kit shook her head, sprigs flying in every direction. “I look the way I’ve always felt inside: a harbinger of chaos!”

She swung the sword around for effect, giggling like a little kid. You felt yourself relax as you watched her, relieved she wasn’t angry and somewhat enamored by her unbridled joy.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable slam of a basement door reverberated throughout the armory. A tall figure entered, holding a large torch that cast a looming shadow. You and Kit froze, tension palpable as the figure stepped forward, revealing itself to be Sorsha.

Her gaze immediately fixated on Kit’s hair, expression hardening into unreadable stone. “There was a clatter. I was afraid there might be an intruder.”

Slowly, she approached you two, both of you holding your breath in anticipation. She reached out to touch Kit’s chopped tresses tentatively, as if they would scald her. “Your hair…”

You glanced between Kit and Sorsha, a sense of dread settling inside you as you prepared your confession. “Your majesty, I…”

“I did it,” Kit interjected, surprising you. “I got fed up with my long hair, and since you wouldn’t allow me to get it cut, I snuck down here and did it myself.”

Sorsha squinted at her daughter, skeptical at her story. Noticing her doubt, Kit gestured towards you. “She’s here because she tried to stop me.”

Sorsha’s gaze shifted down, noticing Kit still holding a sword, while your hands were empty. She took a step back, her face darkening with a quiet anger. You held your breath, bracing yourself for the explosion, but instead her eyes softened as she turned to you.

“Your mother raised such a well-behaved young lady,” she remarked sweetly before redirecting her attention to Kit. “I wish I had done the same…”

You glanced over at Kit, who appeared unfazed by her mother’s hurtful words.

“We’ll continue this discussion upstairs,” Sorsha muttered through clenched teeth, seizing Kit’s arm and leading her away.

You watched as Kit was pulled out of the basement, the guilt from going along with her lie eating you up from the inside. Part of you longed to follow, to confess your involvement, but your feet stayed cemented to the floor, blocks of concrete too heavy to move.

Just before disappearing through the door, Kit turned to look at you, noting your terror-stricken face. You attempted to mouth an ‘I’m sorry,’ but she vigorously shook her head. Instead, she offered you a reassuring smile, sending a wink in your direction that made your heart squeeze. And just like that, you became certain that everything would be alright.

It would be a full month before you could speak to Kit again.

You were right to be worried about getting into trouble, because Kit had gotten herself into a lot. As punishment, she had been confined to her chambers for the past few weeks, only being let out to assist the scullions with chores. Sometimes, you would pass her walking with the maids in the hallways, and when no one was looking, she would shoot you a funny face that never failed to make you laugh.

The weeks without Kit seemed to stretch, each day growing longer than the last. You eventually grew bored with Tir Asleen, the absence of your friend diminishing the kingdom’s original appeal. Luckily, you at least had Airk to keep you company.

“Why do you think our parents keep pushing us to be friends?” You asked him one day, while you were both taking a stroll around the palace gardens.

Airk simply shrugged. “I wonder that too sometimes. Perhaps they want us to learn about each other's homes?”

You shook your head. “Azarenth is only a day trip away from Tir Asleen, not much to learn. Maybe they just want us to get along.”

“But I don’t recall any conflict between our kingdoms,” Airk remarked.

These were the typical conversations between you and Airk: mundane, frivolous words meant to fill an empty space. It’s not as if he wasn’t pleasant company, but he just didn’t excite you the way Kit did.

One early morning, near the end of the month, you were sound asleep in your guest bed when you suddenly felt a crushing weight moving on top of you, followed by the inability to breathe. You opened your eyes to see a dark figure over you, holding its hands over your nose and mouth. Fear coursed through you as your survival instinct took over, thrashing under the dark figure and screaming pleas muffled by its hands.

“Shh… shh… Princess…” the figure leaned down to whisper in your ear.

Your stifled breath hitched in your throat at the familiarity of the figure's voice. Forcing yourself to calm down, you stared up at the figure, eyes adjusting to the darkness until Kit’s unmistakable face came into view.

“Kit…” you whispered as soon as she removed her hands from your mouth. “What are you…”

“I’m not in trouble anymore,” she cut you off. “I’m free.”

“What…” you sat up to lean on your elbows. “Kit, that’s wonderful. But, what do you mean?”

“My mother’s focusing on Airk now,” she replied. “Come with me.”

She seized your hand once again and pulled you out of bed, disclosing her intentions while leading you across the castle.

“I’m usually awoken this early to assist the scullions with chores,” she explained. “However, this morning one of the more prying maids told me that I’m no longer needed, that Airk will be doing chores now.”

“But why?” You inquired.

“I’ll show you.”

She led you down to the large double doors of the palace library, opening them cautiously to avoid getting caught. The overwhelming smell of old books hit you as soon as you stepped inside, smacking you in the face before enveloping you in a warm hug. Your castle didn’t have a library as much as a few bookshelves here and there, so you couldn’t help but stop and marvel at Tir Asleen’s vast collection of books piled high as the ceiling.

“Come on,” Kit insisted, yanking you out of your daydream and pulling you towards a table in the back of the library that was covered with half-open books. “The maid said that my mother caught Airk reading these late last night, and that’s why he’s in trouble.”

“For reading?” You were puzzled.

“Not just reading,” Kit explained. “She said the literature was lewd.”

“Lewd?”

“Bad.” Kit clarified, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

Your brows furrowed, still confused. “But… how can a book be bad?”

Kit seemed unsure how to answer your question, but was curious to find out. She pulled a paper manuscript off the top of one of the piles and opened it to a random page, both of you gasping at the sight. While the text was nothing extraordinary, the margins of the pages were filled with graphic drawings of women in various states of undress.

Your finger trembled as you pointed at one of the women, the top of her dress pulled down to her stomach. “Is that…”

“I think that’s what they’re supposed to look like. When we’re older.” Kit whispered, not taking her eyes off the page.

Both of you sat at the table and stared at the page in awe, neither of you daring to speak. After a moment, you decided to pick another book off of one of the piles, the cover reading “Carmina Burana.” You glanced at Kit, who bore into you, silently daring you to open it.

Flipping to another random page, you came across a translated poem entitled “Si Puer Cum Puella,” and began to read. “If a lad and his sweet lover, in a room together linger—an ineffable game begins, in their abandoned lips and limbs.”

Looking over at Kit, you expected her to explain what the poem meant, but she seemed as confused as you were. Turning the page, you found more marginalia, these drawings far different from the ones in the manuscript. In the corner of the page was a drawing of a man, carrying a sword in a full state of undress that exposed his flaccid…

You slammed the book shut in disgust, cheeks burning a dark crimson.

“What happened?” Kit questioned.

With a shaky hand, you pushed the book in her direction. She furrowed her brow at you and flipped it open, thumbing through the pages until coming across the drawing. Horrified, she let out a sharp “eek” before slamming the book shut once again.

“Shhh…” you reminded her, remembering what happened the last time you two got caught sneaking around. She nodded, slapping a hand over her mouth.

Both of you stared down at the book as if it had burned you. The air around you felt thick, the only audible sounds being shallow breaths and your own heart beating in your ears.

“Airk has one of those,” Kit finally spoke in a low voice. “I’ve seen it. We took baths together when we were younger.”

“Do they all look like that?” You asked in disgust.

Kit shook her head, gesturing to the abandoned book. “Not like that!”

The two of you stood frozen for another minute before you decided to take a leap of faith, grabbing the “Carmina Burana” and flipping back to the offending page. You tore out the drawing, ripping it to shreds and shoving it down one of your stockings to dispose of later. Glancing over at Kit, she stood shocked, her mouth agape.

“I think boys are nasty,” you exclaimed, grabbing the previous manuscript and revisiting the page with the drawings of women, a satisfied grin spreading across your face. “Much better.”

For the rest of the summer, you and Kit made it a habit to sneak around in the dead of nights, embarking on secret little adventures just for the two of you. Sometimes you would revisit the back corners of the library to explore banned literature; other times, you would break into the kitchen to eat an entire jar of fruit preserves between the two of you.

But most nights were reserved for nothing but late-night chatter. You would hide in each other's rooms, whispering secrets that dissolved into the quiet of the night, like you did when you were younger.

However, these late nights did take a toll on your daily schedules; neither of you could stay awake during the day. When summer classes started around mid-July, you often found yourself dozing off in the middle of them, frequently waking up to the angry scolds of a palace tutor following the sharp thwack of a ruler against your desk.

One Saturday morning, you were at the breakfast table eating with the Tanthalos family, when you felt yourself start to nod off before being awoken by a sharp jab in the ribs.

“Ouch,” you exclaimed, glaring daggers at Airk, sitting next to you. “What was that for?”

He held up his hands defensively. “You fell asleep on your toast.”

Groaning, you took your napkin and wiped the butter off your cheek. Now that you were awake, you couldn’t help but notice that Kit, who usually sat across from you in a similar state of stupor, was missing.

“Where did Kit go?” You asked Airk.

He gave a half-hearted wave in the direction of the kitchen window. “It’s the first of the month. Where do you think she went?”

Sure enough, Kit had glued herself to the kitchen window, refusing to look away from the nothingness of the outside in case a messenger were to appear out of nowhere.

“Kit,” Sorsha sighed in exasperation. “Come back and finish your breakfast.”

“But dad’s letter hasn’t arrived yet!” Kit protested.

“It’s early morning, the day has just begun. I’m sure your father’s letter will arrive later, now come eat!”

Kit grumbled as she plopped herself back down at the breakfast table, wolfing down her meal in seconds flat before excusing herself back to the window.

Unfortunately, the day’s sun came and went with no letter in sight. By nightfall, Kit was still perched at the window, wringing her hands like a damp towel.

“Time for bed, Kit.” Sorsha commanded, a hint of pity in her voice.

Kit looked up at her mom with wide eyes. “What about dad’s letter?”

Sorsha sent her daughter a reassuring smile, not showing any concern. “Sometimes messengers can get lost, nothing to worry about. I’m sure his letter will turn up soon.”

Several days passed with Kit stationed at the window, growing increasingly anxious each day as she waited for something that never came. By the end of the week, still no letter had arrived, and even Sorsha’s calm composition began to falter.

“Mom,” Kit called from the window, voice coming out small and frail. “Where’s dad’s letter?”

Sorsha rested her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, peering out at the fading sky alongside her. “I’m not sure, Kit.”

“Is he alright?” Kit looked to her mother for reassurance, a small child desperate for a glimmer of hope.

Sorsha opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She turned away from her daughter, letting the silence settle between them like a thick fog. And that was the moment all light died from Kit’s eyes, the innocence of her childhood crumbling before her like a glass vase shattering on tile floor.

That night, you were preparing for a restful evening when your door flung open. Startled, you whipped around to see Kit standing in your doorway. She seemed fragile, like a baby bird with a broken wing.

“Hey,” she whispered, her red, puffy eyes visible in the dim candlelight.

“Hey…” you responded, confused. Your midnight retreats had been put on hold after Kit’s attention turned towards her father’s letter.

“I’m worried about my dad…” Kit admitted in a low voice. “Can I sleep in here tonight?”

Her words tugged at your heartstrings, filling you with sympathy. You agreed, climbing into bed and patting the space beside you. Kit smiled gratefully and crawled onto her side, pulling the covers over the both of you. It was a bit of a tight squeeze to cram two adolescents into a twin bed, as you both had done a lot of growing since your childhood sleepover. But as Kit buried her head in your chest and snuggled up close, the proximity didn’t bother you. The warmth of your bodies merged like two flames into a single fire, becoming one and the same.

“No one knows where he is,” she mumbled into the silk of your nightgown. “Do you think something happened to him?”

You gently scratched her back and soothed her labored breaths, taking a moment to choose your words carefully. “Kit… you are one of the strongest people I know. I really, truly mean that. If your dad has even a fraction of your strength, I know there’s nothing that could stop him from seeing you again.”

Kit’s breathing evened out as your words seemed to reassure her. Her eyelids fought to stay open, a week of restless nights finally catching up to her. You bent down, planting a gentle kiss on her head before you both drifted off to sleep.

Tag List: @chloepricesgirl @canmargesimpson @yourelliewillms @valenftcrush @camilleee222 @prettygirlfemme @slaytillieswooo @love4lyn @joanvisitsrome @athenalive @mih11 @j-pacifica @everybodyhatesari @vii-ofswords @sofi4v13

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soyeonsbabygirl · 1 day

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Hi Authornim can i request for a story/image for sana based on the song we can't be friends by ariana grande. i would appreciate it thank you

You have no idea what you just asked but be careful what you wished for dear anon :)

ExFriends | Sana Minatozaki x reader

You sat in your apartment staring at the wall. You were the leader of a new girl group, you guys had experienced such big success from debut and now you guys now you guys had gotten yet another win. You guys were even considered nations girl group, practically unstoppable. Despite all this success you couldn’t help but feel…empty, you were proud of the success that you and your members had but it all felt bitter.

You looked to the wall, filled with memories of your old group that you had first debuted in, the trainees you had trained with who either faded from your life or didn’t get to see as much due to busy schedules. The songs you sang with your previous members and the performances you gave with them, all these memories hit you terribly like a truck causing tears to well in your eyes.

You looked at one picture of you and someone who had impacted your life the most. The one person who constantly stayed in your memory no matter how much you tried to forget her, someone that you had trained with as well as debuted with, your first love Sana Minatozaki. Who was also your first heartbreak.

You still remember the day you met Sana a year prior before you two would go on SIXTEEN. You saw her in the cafeteria sitting next to another girl, due to language barriers you guys couldn’t communicate with words but just your presence proved to make them both smile. You were focused on Sana’s smile and the way it lit up a room immediately bringing whoever it was comfort. You loved spending hours with her in the dance practice room admiring the talent she possessed but you also noticed how when she danced she almost seemed to match up with Momo.

Besides that you still loved the feeling you got when you were around Sana, almost like she was your home. You knew from this day that Sana would be a big figure in your life if only you knew at the time what that would mean.

As the years went on, all 10 of you would go on to take the world by storm gaining fame not just in Korea but globally. It was scary at first but Sana convinced you it would all be ok which instantly relaxed you. You were sitting in the studio by yourself at the time, Chaeyoung and Dahyun having left to do whatever it was they said they needed to do. You had already made a beat for a song but were stuck on the lyrics feeling the mental block that most songwriters tend to get when writing songs.

You didn’t even realize when Sana had come in til she playfully draped her arms over your shoulders lightly massaging them, you looked up to be met with the smile you had grown to love. Your eyes lingered more on her lips causing you to glance away “You’ve been in here for hours ynnie” she took one the chairs scooting it close to you, she placed her hand on your thigh making you fight the urge to bite your lip. “I’ve been stuck on this song for a while, I don’t know what it is.”

You didn’t notice how you clicked the top of your pen while you spoke attempting to focus til Sana’s beautiful fingers took you out your focused like trance placing them on top of yours removing the pen from your hands. You turned your body to face her as you felt her fingers massaging your hands a gesture that was so small but made you feel as if everything else didn't matter. You took in her playful smile and the way she looked at you that made you blush.

No matter how many times she would look at you like that it still caused butterflies in your stomach, you admired her lips that looked so kissable in this moment, the way her brown hair fit her complexion in the best way. You didn’t even realized you spaced out til her phone started ringing bringing you back. She answered it right away with such eagerness.

You felt a bit disappointed that the moment between you two was interrupted but that disappointment was filled with jealousy when you realized who it was she was talking to. “Momoring! your insane you just ate lunch with me 2 hours ago and your already wondering what to eat again!” She giggled the way she always does when she's with Momo, her smile changing to one she only has when it comes to Momo filling you with a slight bit of sadness.

. Her and Momo have known each other longer but it seemed always as if there was always something going on there, an underlying connection that they didn’t have with everyone else. When she left, you found yourself thinking about the moment and imaging what it would be like to have her look at you the way she looked at Momo. Almost like she was stuck in your head.

You were with the rest of your members celebrating your comeback “FANCY”, all of you drinking shots after shots to really celebrate which eventually led you guys where you were now. Truth or dare. The game was filled with laughs and very risqué dares, from Jihyo talking about all the people she's kissed to Mina giving Jeongyeon a lap dance. You had been playing it safe this whole time only picking truth and not getting asked anything too bad just a few standards and revealing a few things that made you blush.

You sat between Sana and Mina whilst waiting for your turn, your eyes constantly would fall to the way Momo had her arm on Sana’s waist in an almost romantic like manner. Almost as if she was claiming her as her own. Momo would whisper sweet nothings in Sana’s ear causing the girl to let out a chorus of drunk giggles or various “Momoring!”’s. Sana would get more touchy with Momo from the kisses she would give her that were just centimeters away from Momo’s mouth or the looks they would give each other as if there was an unspoken bond between the 2.

Mina held your hand reassuringly at one point as a way to hopefully try to divert your attention from them which would sometimes work and other times went ignored. “truth or dare?” Nayeon asked Momo with a smirk “Dare!” “I dare you to kiss Sana then!” multiple giggles and ooh’s could be heard from some of the girls except Mina and Jihyo who knew about your feelings for the girl.

girl. “Aw come on Nayeon! why that dare!?” Dahyun playfully said knowing how unpredictable Nayeon could be, “it’s either that or she takes a shot!” Nayeon giggled whilst looking at the 2 with a knowing look. You wanted to scream as you saw Momo’s hand caress Sana’s cheek as she leaned closer a pit in your stomach forming as well as the feeling of tears in your eyes. You made up an excuse about not wanting to play anymore ignoring the protests of the other girls as you quickly went up to your room.

Why did you open that door? Why did you have to be so curious? You barged into Sana’s room wanting to ask for her thoughts on a song for the Japanese single you were working on for the group. This was normal since it was something you both would do when wanting to be near the other whether it was just cuddling or wanting to feel the other’s presence. Instead you walked in on something much worse.

You found both Sana and Momo making out on her bed, nearly undressed. Sana squeaked in alarm while Momo had a shocked look on her face her first instinct to cover them both. “Ynnie I-” you didn't get to hear the rest of what she said, slamming the door shut, and rushing into your own room next door.

The tears flowed out your eyes while your knees gave out beneath you. You put your hands over your mouth as you cried feeling a burning hole in your chest, you weren’t even paying attention to the tender sighs that could be heard from one of them. You were only focused by the pain you felt from what you saw, you looked at one of your pictures you had on the wall of the two of you. It hung there like a mockery to how blind you had been to something that had so obviously been there right in front of you.

The next week Sana had taken notice how you had distanced yourself from her and Momo. You knew it wasn’t right but you couldn't bring yourself to face either one of them right now. Mina held you as you cried in her arms “it hurts minari..how could I have been so stupid to something that was right in my face? it was obvious I never stood a chance against Momo.” Mina rubbed your back listening as you sobbed, she knew you were hurting and was determined to be there for you in every way she could.

“I’m sorry yn if I had known something was going on…I would’ve never told you to confess to her..or at least push you to..I swear I didn’t-” you couldn’t hear Mina’s voice anymore as you thought back on all the moments you and Sana had together.

From the way she would hold your hand in the airport as to not lose you to the crowd “I just feel better when your close to me ynnie! can’t let my baby get lost now can I?”, the times she would hold you when you couldn’t sleep making you smell her shampoo which to you felt like home but just the thought of that scent makes you nauseous now, and all the times she would sometimes brush her fingers on your lips then shoot you a teasing almost innocent like smile “your lips are so soft ynnie..wonder how they taste.” All of these memories that once made you feel happy now brought you nothing but pain causing you to sob harder.

Nothing could prepare any of the girls for what you did next. A week after the first concept pictures had dropped, a week after your guys most anticipated comeback, you left. You terminated your contract and just like that you were gone, you still remember the look on Jihyo and Mina’s faces when you told them that you were leaving the group. The way Jihyo cried while she hugged you and mina’s loud sob mixed with yelling, at the end of the day they supported your decision though knowing that the reason you were leaving was because of how much it hurt you to face Sana and Momo.

But what they didn’t know was the longing you felt for her to so much as look at you. They didn’t know how much you stilll craved Sana’s touch, they didn’t know how she could somehow still make you feel better, they didn’t know how you would cry remembering her touch from any touches you guys had. You didn’t get to speak to Sana before you left but you remember the glance you gave her when you left.

Her face falling when she received the news ,as eyes filling with tears that were streaming down her cheeks. It hurt you to see her like this as she silently begged you to come back and tell her this wasn’t real and maybe in another world you would’ve if Momo wasn't holding her hand.

You waited a year before signing to a new company. The trainees you were surrounded with obsessed with ‘Feel Special’ the last Twice music video you could ever be seen in. You would force yourself to leave the room when the song would play Sana’s voice bringing a whole new level of pain you were trying to get rid of. You remembered the texts Sana would send you daily trying to get you to talk to her but you would never respond knowing that you could never be friends with her again. Even when Nayeon had informed you about Sana and Momo’s break up you still didn’t text her, unable to bring yourself to do it.

Eventually she stopped texting you and life moved on with you debuting in a new girl group as the leader and twice continuing as a 9 member group. You still talked to your old members especially Jihyo, Mina, Tzuyu, and Jeongyeon unable to let go of the bond you had with them. You eventually even reconnected with Momo but never Sana.

Currently you sat in your apartment, your phone buzzing with multiple messages from friends and families. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth when you saw Jihyo and Mina’s congratulatory texts. You smiled sadly as you texted them both thank you’s letting them know how much you missed them. You looked to your wall to the picture of you and Sana.

The same picture that hung on your wall when you walked in on her and Momo, the same picture you both took with each other years ago. If you had told either of the girls in that picture that they would one day not speak again they wouldn’t believe you. You stopped looking at the picture when you felt your phone buzzing as it rang, when you looked at the caller ID everything felt as if it had come to a stop.

Sana is calling…..

#twice #sana twice #twice sana #minatozaki sana #twice thoughts #twice imagines #twice angst #sana angst #sana #twice x fem reader #twice x reader #twice x you #twice x y/n

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venusandsaturnsrings · 1 day

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The school year finally ended... I hate college SO much :( but I am alive!! I beg for some crumbs of thoughts on Sunday... -chubby darling anon who is very much alive and finally got a mitsuri scale figure <3

putting all of my other fics, blurbs, and asks on PAUSE for this!! congrats!! no more school foorrr… 3ish months!! after dropping out of uni, i’ve been finally considering going back myself for phlebotomy!! canadas health situation is lack lustre rn and the course is less than one year + paid practicum + immediate job placement which is kinda sweet… CONGRATS ON THE FIGURE TOO!! i recently (like a month and a half ago) procured the hatsune miku jirai kei subculture fashion figure and i cannot stress how pretty she is <3 sits on my pc right now bc my shelves are full… ANYWAYS… love you!!

includes: silly sunday hcs, potential story spoilers, maybe ooc im still feeling him out, praise, degradation, riding crops, his hands…, and gender neutral reader!!

very poignantly the hopeless romantic type. he’s always functioned as a ‘singularity’ of sorts and over the years developed a certain fondness of it, even if it hurts. it’s worth noting he vividly reminds me of the line ‘i miss the comfort in being sad,’ from nirvanas ‘Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle.’ he’s the type of partner to always be stuck in that self-absorbed martyr mindset a little bit.

pragmatic to a fault. Sunday is deeply a skeptic, take his departure from the harmony in favour of the order, as an example. it’s cool because it means you’ll never have to worry about any technicalities but it also means he has a hard time letting go of control or being spontaneous.

very into more subtle romantic gestures and an absolute gentleman. you’ll have flowers at your door at least once a week and he makes sure to take all of your preferences into consideration when planning dates (he will be the one planning). keeps his hand on your lower back most of the time, the waist is far too scandalous!!

not a big texter. he prefers speaking face to face and will call if he can’t come see you. that said, he’ll make sure to like or respond to all of the silly pictures and messages you send, even if it’s a dry ‘haha’ or just a heart. occasionally, you’ll find that he’s sent you a letter, ask about and he’ll shrug and say he simply wanted something more heartfelt if he’s to communicate written. he’s got a special stamp to seal the ones he sends you.

grabs your phone when you go to show him something. no explanation i just feel it in my bones.

although he’s no singer, he’s still a classically trained musician. i imagine he was taught the violin but went on to learn his preferred instrument, the harp, himself. he’s a bit shy about playing so rather than asking, just wait until he thinks it’s late and you’re not around to hear; he’s got quite the set of fingers.

…speaking of fingers, my bread and butter, he’s beyond skilled with playing you. while he enjoys getting down to business, getting to leisurely spread you open and thrum against all your nerves gets him going. could spend hours having you laid out, in his lap, on the floor, wherever, just gently coaxing you open, wet, and pliant for himself.

off of that, he likes you best worn down to soft edges and weak desperation. getting to play the saviour, making you come undone, has him stiff in his pants.

lots of sweet praise and subtle degradation. things like, “you want to be good for me, don’t you my sweet?,” or, “now, now, don’t get greedy on me. be patient, silly thing, and i’ll appease all of your foolish whims,” annddd, “come now, you’ve been so well for me, angel, don’t ruin that with any useless whines.”

he’s not one for being too harsh against you but push the right buttons and you’ll get a ‘dumb’ or ‘stupid’ here and there. Sunday doesn’t curse but he knows his way around how to make you feel inferior and looked down upon.

he likes the power play of staying fully and pristinely clothed while your completely nude, save for maybe a pretty collar he’s got you belled with. if you’re real trouble, say maybe a no good criminal causing problems on Penacony and once arrested you’re at his disposal and oh so pretty, he’ll find a nice muzzle to fix you with.

strikes, no pun intended, me as the type to have an affinity for riding crops over anything else for punishments. you’ll get the same sugarcoated degradation while he comments on how you’re not even good enough to be so close to his gloved hand that he just must use the crop!! (he likes the pretty bruises it leaves).

#cw: degradation #cw: riding crops #sunday x reader #sunday x you #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #chit chats #chubby darling anon my beloved!#i think he’s a real slime ball #but… very interesting i fear #i like how… stiff?? purposeful?? assertive?? he is #very much a mixed bag of marbles and i like that!!#kisses u btw

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mustainegf · 2 days

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i neeeed young parents reader x james, maybe 1984-85 ?

I hope I understood this correctly!! I’m such a sucker for cute stuff like this, and 80s dad James?? Oh my godddd

In 1985, James and I were 23 years old, living life with the reckless abandon of youth.

James was riding the wave of Metallica's rising fame, and I was swept along in the chaos and excitement of it all.

Everything seemed perfect the way it was, until we found out I was pregnant. That news stopped us both in our tracks.

I remember the day I told James. He was tuning his guitar, his brow furrowed in concentration. When I told him, he just stared at me, his hands frozen on the strings.

There was a long silence, then he let out a breath and said, "Well, looks like we're gonna be parents." His voice was calm, but I could see the fear in his eyes.

We were both terrified, but there was no question, we were going to keep this baby.

By the time our daughter was born in 1986, everything had changed.

Metallica was on the cusp of releasing ‘Master of Puppets’, and James was busier than ever.

Despite the demands of his career, he was determined to be a good father.

When he was home, he was entirely devoted to our little girl.

James was adorable with her. He was this big, rough around the edges rock star, but when he held her, he was so gentle.

I would watch him trying to figure out how to change her diaper, his fingers fumbling with the tabs, and I couldn't help but laugh.

He'd grumble about how "diapers are more complicated than guitar," but he always managed to get it right in the end.

There were nights when she'd cry for hours, and James would get up, scoop her into his arms, and pace the floor, whispering lullabies in his gravelly voice.

Those moments made me fall in love with him all over again.

He was clumsy and inexperienced, but his heart was in it. He was head over heels for our daughter.

Being young parents was hard to say the least. We had so much to learn and so many adjustments to make.

James's schedule was unpredictable, and there were times when he had to leave for weeks on end.

Those were the hardest times, feeling like I was doing it all alone. But he always called, always checked in, and when he came home, he'd bring all his love back to us.

One evening, after a particularly long tour, James came home exhausted but beaming. He scooped our daughter up, twirling her around, her giggles filling the room.

She had just started to recognize him, her eyes lighting up whenever he walked in.

Seeing them together, seeing how much he adored her, made all the struggles worth it.

James wasn't perfect. He made mistakes, and there were times when his temper would flare, or he'd be too tired to help as much as he wanted. And same with me, we were sad too young to be parents, but we did it with pride.

But he was trying, and that meant everything. He was present, he was loving, and he was learning.

In those early days, amidst the chaos and the sleepless nights, we built something together. James would often say that our daughter was the best thing that ever happened to him, and I couldn't agree more.

She completed us, gave us a purpose.

The memory of the day our daughter was born is drawn vividly in my mind, as if it happened just yesterday.

Labor had been long and exhausting, and by the time I finally held our daughter in my arms, I was completely spent.

But when I looked at her tiny, perfect face, everything else faded away. She was here. She was ours.

When the nurse finally handed our daughter to James, I saw a transformation in him that I would never forget.

He took her so carefully, as if she were made of the most fragile glass, and for a moment, he just stared at her, his breath catching in his throat.

His hands, usually so confident and sure, trembled slightly as he cradled her close to his chest.

"Hi, babygirl," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm your daddy."

His eyes were bright with unshed tears. I saw him fight to keep his composure, to be strong, but the tears welled up anyway, spilling over and trailing down his cheeks.

It was a rare sight from James.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice breaking. "I promise I'll always protect you."

Our daughter, swaddled tightly in a soft blanket, let out a small, contented sigh, and it seemed to break whatever last bit of worry James had.

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, his tears falling onto her blanket.

I reached out, placing a hand on his arm, feeling the tremor that ran through him. "She's perfect, isn't she?" I whispered.

James nodded, unable to speak for a moment.

James couldn't seem to take his eyes off her, and I watched as he traced a finger lightly over her tiny hand, her delicate fingers curling around his. It was as if he was memorizing every detail.

"I can't believe she's real," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She's so small...and I'm so scared I'll mess her up."

I squeezed his arm, offering what reassurance I could. "We'll figure it out. You're already doing great."

Many months later, Our apartment in San Francisco was modest, but it was ours. The walls were adorned with posters of Metallica and other bands, a reflection of James's world and our love of music.

The living room was a mishmash of instruments, baby toys, and scattered laundry.

It was late afternoon, and James was home after a week on the road.

He was determined to feed our daughter her dinner, giving me a chance to sit back and relax for a moment.

I sat on the couch, my legs curled under me, watching the scene unfold with amusement.

James had our daughter in her high chair, a small bowl of mashed peas in one hand and a bright yellow spoon in the other.

His eyebrows were drawn together in concentration, his tongue poking out slightly as he tried to scoop up the right amount of food.

Our daughter, with her chubby cheeks and bright eyes, was all smiles, clearly delighted to have her daddy home.

"Alright, little lady," James said in his gravelly voice, "here comes the airplane."

He made a buzzing noise, moving the spoon toward her mouth. But just as he got close, our daughter batted the spoon away with a giggle, sending peas flying.

James's face fell, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Nice try, Daddy," I teased.

James shot me a mock glare. "You're not helping, you know."

I shrugged, unable to wipe the grin off my face. "You're doing great, rock star."

He rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at his lips.

He scooped up more peas and tried again, this time managing to get a little bit into her mouth before she clamped her lips shut and turned her head, giggling and squealing.

"Oh, come on, kid," he said, trying to keep his frustration at bay. "You gotta eat something."

Our daughter had other plans.

She grabbed the spoon with her tiny hands and promptly dropped it on the floor, squealing with delight.

James let out a sigh, bending down to pick it up, only for it to be batted away again as soon as he held it up.

"You're killing me, kid," he muttered, though there was a shine in his eye.

I could see the love and patience in him, even as he struggled with something as simple as feeding her.

It was moments like this that reminded me why I fell in love with him. Despite the scary rock star exterior, James was tender and caring. The sweetest man I’d ever known.

I got up from the couch and walked over to them, picking up the spoon and wiping it clean. "Let me show you a trick," I said, taking a small spoonful of peas and gently holding it up to our daughter's lips.

She opened her mouth obediently, and I slipped the spoon in, her eyes lighting up.

James watched, shaking his head in mock defeat. "I swear, she's got it out for me."

I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "She just likes making you work for it. You're doing great, James. She loves you."

He smiled, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me close. "I love you too, you know."

Our daughter made a happy noise, flapping her hands as if to say she loved us too.

We were young and often unsure of what we were doing, but we had each other, and that was enough.

James leaned down, planting a kiss on our daughter's forehead. "Alright, little lady, let's try this again."

With determination, he picked up the spoon and attempted another round of feeding. This time, he was more successful, managing to get a few more bites in before the inevitable mess ensued.

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pocket-watcher · 2 days

Note

I saw you were doing requests and I was thinking of a scenario with covert hypnosis but the reader catches on quickly and does their best to resist/escape. I want to fight for my will against the inevitable. If not tho that's cool :)

Hi anon! Here’s something just for all you who love a good struggle…

“Excuse me, do you have a moment?”

The crowded sidewalk didn’t leave much room for you to figure out who had called out, until someone approached you with a clipboard.

You registered they were petitioning or raising money or something and your social anxiety took over.

“Sorry, I’m in a rush.” You said, avoiding eye contact.

“This will only take a second.” They added, as they always do, but you faltered as you noticed no one had signed whatever sheet they had.

And it was three on a Saturday. The heat bore down from the afternoon sun.

Pity.

So, reluctantly, you turned to them, nodding for them to continue.

A surprised smile was on their face.

“R-right. I’m going to read you a passage of a book, and by the end of it could you answer some questions?”

“Okay.”

“Great!” They flipped over their paper and began reading in a much lower tone than they’d previously been speaking in.

“The cave was dark. Deep. Never-ending. She stared and stared but could never find the bottom, no matter how far she looked. But that wouldn’t stop her. She wanted to. Needed to look deeper…”

The slow, winding tone of their voice clued you in. How the voices began to fade away from the busy street around you.

You shook yourself.

Ah.

So that was the game, hmm?

You fiddled with your nails to show your disinterest. How unfazed you were.

Ignoring the growing warmth within you.

They continued.

“She unknowingly was walking into a nest. A creature was watching, waiting. Calling to its prey. She felt compelled to continue. Walking in an almost dream.”

“Are you done yet?” You said, batting your eyelids innocently. They felt heavier, but nothing to worry about.

They licked their teeth and put on a false smile.

“I guess you really are in a hurry, aren’t you? Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon…”

They found their place on the page once more.

“How long had the creature been trapped in that cage with no one to gaze upon its mesmerising features? 10 years? No, 9. 8? 7…” they paused, looking up at you.

Feeling slightly fuzzy from the counting, you picked this moment to start walking away.

Better luck next time.

“H-hey! Wait up!”

Your movements were clumsier than usual, but freedom was just a few steps away if you could lose them…

They followed you through the weaving crowd, still reading to you.

“She was helpless. Walking in circles. Resistance was futile. Her feet felt like lead. The floor of the cave grew muddy. Sticky. Weighing her movements down. She was slowing. Her mind. Her thoughts, slowing.”

You ignored them, pushing through, mumbling half apologies to those you moved past.

They felt faster than you. Lighter than you.

Get out of my head, you thought.

“That’s it, the creature cooed to her. Stay with me. Go on. Give up your fight and stay here forever. Listen to my words. Let them seep into your mind.”

You half faltered, turning and seeing them smile at you.

“N-no. No she didn’t. She made it out of the cave…” you said looking deep into their eyes.

You couldn’t see the sun. You were no longer outside. You were in the deepest, darkest, cave.

The creature stared back from the darkness and spoke.

“Perhaps. But, even if she did, would she ever really stop thinking about what she could’ve had with the creature…?”

You dropped.

#I hope you enjoy!!#hypnok1nk #hypnosis #mind control #brainwashing #hypnotized #mindfuck #watcher answers #watcher writes #watcher’s stories

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andromeda-nova-writing · 2 days

Text

Plastic Off The Sofa

Fem!Reader

Summary: Rest when one is injured it is important to take as to not strain an injury any further. It is equally important to take care of those who have been injured and check in on them to make sure they are okay.

Words: 2,982

AN: This fic is inspired by the song of the same name. I highly recommend you go give it a listen if you. haven't heard it yet. It's a song that discusses a deep love where you are willing to put everything on the table and accept each other's flaws. It very much fits how I see these two

It was rare that Y/N took a sick day. Most times when she did it would land on days she was to work on the surface, which made today a double rare. She was sitting on the sofa in her apartment taking a sick day forcing herself to listen to her own advice and rest. She wasn't ill. Not even seasonal allergies were causing a sniffle. Y/N had spent the day before teaching her younger cousins different dancing techniques. It was a fairly normal occurrence for her. But with an unlucky fall and the pain she felt from her ankle, there was no way she'd be able to easily move in the Fortress. Hell, there wouldn't even be an easy way of getting to the Fortress.

So all she could do was sit on her sofa and rest her ankle. At least she had books she could focus on getting caught up on. Most of the day had been spent resting much to her annoyance. Despite getting rest, she felt restless like she needed to move around already. At least by tomorrow morning, she should be able to walk with little interference from her ankle.

Her mother had dropped by around noon to check on her with lunch in tow. Along with the get-well cards her younger cousins had made so fast. It was quite sweet of everyone. It's not like it was a major injury. She had gone through small ones like this every three or four years. There really was no big fuss to be made over it. Yet, the fuss they were making was still touching. Bringing comfort knowing that if it had been worse her family would be there for her.

So she sat there on her sofa too engrossed in her book to notice that it wasn't her mother knocking at her door. “You know where the key is!” She yelled out. It's something her mother never had taken the wrong way. If anything it was something they had become used to yelling at each other every now and then. It was a simple way of just letting the other know that they couldn’t make it to the door quickly.

She flipped a page in her book as her front door opened. Her back was to the door. “I told you I would be fine to make something small for dinner. You do understand I can still take care of myself, mama.”

“Last I checked I wasn't your mother,” Wriothesley spoke before closing the door to her home.

Y/N's eyes widened as she quickly closed her book placing it on the coffee table before rushing to tighten the robe she had over the short nightgown. “What are you doing here?” She felt severely undressed for company with the cool touch of the silks feeling like flames against her skin now.

“I had some papers I had to drop off for Neuvillette and I figured I could at least come by and check on you.” It was hard not to let his eyes drink in the sight of his girlfriend. She looked relaxed with how dressed down she was. If anything it made him feel a bit overdressed for his visit.

She kept her eyes away from him, avoiding turning around to face him. Her face felt so warm. “I appreciate the visit. I just had a bad fall yesterday. I've just been following the advice I'd give to anyone else today.”

“It's good to know you're okay.” He let out a small laugh watching her struggle to use the dainty robe to cover up more. He took his jacket off and moved closer to the sofa. He placed the jacket on the front of her which she had been trying to cover up. “Better?”

“Thank you. To be fair I didn't expect any company other than my mother. If I knew you were going to stop by I would have gotten dressed. This just feels a bit inappropriate.” She pulled the jacket close using it as a way to hide that she remained in her pajamas all day long.

“You're overthinking again.”

��No, I'm not overthinking. I should go get dressed.” She reasoned as a quick way to fix her predicament.

“Yes, you are. You were in nothing but one of my shirts last week lying in my bed. I think we've crossed that line a long time ago to call what you're wearing inappropriate.” If it had been a year ago before they had gotten together, he would have given her privacy to go change. He probably wouldn't have even shown up at her doorstep. Wriothesley thought the shyness of seeing each other's bodies had already left that first night they had been together in his bed.

“But silks just feel more exposing than one of your shirts. Doesn’t help that I wasn't expecting to see you today.” The last sentence she spoke came out a bit more mumbled than the first.

Wriothesley laughed before leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Let’s agree to disagree on this one.” He tried lightening her mood. “Am I at least allowed to sit next to you while you tell me what happened to your ankle? Or are you just gonna sit here being a shy mess?”

She frowned at his teasing. It sucked not being able to think of a good comeback. With her luck, she would probably be able to think of one long after the time had passed. “I guess you can sit next to me. And are you sure you want to know what happened to my ankle? It’s not that interesting.” She warned.

“It's the least you could do. The woman who subbed in for you practically interrogated me about how we were doing?” Wriothesley shook his head at the memory of the morning.

“Was she short with red hair?” She moved over enough, creating room on the sofa for Wriothesley.

He sat down placing his arm on the backrest of the sofa. He tried to be comfortable while also giving her just enough space. Had it gone his way, she would have been curled up in his arms as they talked of their day. “Yeah, she had a nose ring too.”

Y/N leaned her back against him. Maybe she had been overthinking earlier. Sometimes it was easier to accept that fact even if she wasn’t sure of what exactly had caused her overthinking. “Elizabeth means well. She's just always getting her heart broken and just doesn't want it to happen to anyone else.”

“Could have fooled me. It felt like she was waiting for me to slip up.”

Y/N laughed. “Well, I'll let you know if you passed her test.”

“Now what happened to your ankle?” He asked still wanting to know what had happened even if she found it to be a boring tale.

“I was teaching some of my cousins different techniques for dance. I was demonstrating something from ballet when my aunt's dog thought that would be a wonderful time to jump at me. See nothing that interesting.” She downplayed the simple event.

“You know ballet?” Wriothesley asked wondering how it hadn’t been brought up before.

“Navia wasn’t lying when she told you my mother put me in so many dance classes.”

“I just didn't think you were the ballet type.”

“It's not like I have a reason to talk about dance with you. Even then I don't practice It anymore. Haven't for the past seven years.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s nice, it's just not what I wanted to do in life.” She explained not feeling the need to go any further. It wasn’t important to discuss. There was no need to focus on what she considered a small unimportant aspect of her life.

Wriothesley nodded in understanding. “So what have you been doing while you were resting?”

“Mostly reading. It has been a day of rest. I’ve done nothing of interest.”

“Was The book interesting at least?”

“It's interesting but not cause it's good kind of interesting. One of the ladies at work thought it would be fun to have a monthly book club. I just didn't think that this was her taste.” She thought back on what she had read throughout the day questioning if she should have just stuck to something she would have chosen for herself.

Wriothesley moved his free arm towards the book that lay on her coffee table. He picked up the book looking at the cover. “I'm glad that's the reason you're reading this. And you had me thinking I wasn't doing well enough in the romance department.” He teased as he put the book back. It was a book that had made its way into the Fortress a few years back making it something he had checked out of curiosity.

“What would possibly make you think that?” She asked, entertaining his nonsense.

“You see, my girlfriend doesn't care to explain to me everything that happened to her ankle.” He began listing. “She suddenly finds it inappropriate for me to see her in silks despite having seen her in far less.”

“Wriothesley, did you come here to check on me or tease me?”

He ignored her second question remaining focused on her first one. “What's worse is that if she's worried about what she's wearing around me, I'll never get to kiss her. It would be horrible to make her uncomfortable.” He was being overly dramatic just to continue teasing her, even if his dramaticness contained an ounce of truth.

“You have issues, Ri.” She rolled her eyes with a smile before sitting up. Her words had no bite remaining playful, even when what she had said was something that held a level of truth. His jacket fell off of her onto the sofa as she moved. “I'm going to go get changed.” Y/N stood up making sure not to put too much weight on her hurt ankle.

“What if I don't want you to?” It was a question that was a tad selfish but it didn't hurt to say what was wanted. It wasn't like his wants were being forced on her. However, her wanting to change did make him question things. So all he could do was push the boundaries they had already broken once before. “How could I judge you for being comfortable in your own home when I'm the one who showed up unexpectedly?”

“Wriothesley…” her voice trailed off.

“I want you to be comfortable around me.” He tried playing it off with a laugh. Maybe he was just thinking too much into things himself. “Maybe I should just let you rest before I talk too much.” His words were softer as he forced out the sentence.

She looked at his face slightly defeated but filled with longing eyes. “I like hearing you talk.” She sat back down next to him. “You know I wouldn't have even told you where I hid the extra key if I didn't feel comfortable around you.”

“Yeah, I know. I just probably need to go back and get proper rest if I'm talking like this.” Wriothesley explained to not worry her.

“Maybe I let my overthinking get the best of me. Don't let it get the best of you too.” Y/N placed her hand on his cheek. “How am I supposed to listen about getting out my own head if you just start doing what I do? You've done everything to make me feel comfortable around you. You’re even good about asking if I'm comfortable with the smallest things.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I know I'm not the nicest-looking guy around. I think I saw a kid hide behind their mom on the way over.”

“And I'm sure you gave them the sweetest smile.” Y/N placed a hand on his thigh giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know I said that I'm dressed inappropriately but I think it’s just the shock of you being here. I got used to only having my mom check on me. I do appreciate that you’re here. I wasn’t expecting it even if you’re just here cause you had to drop something off.”

“I would have checked on you regardless. If not me going on my own, I'm sure Sigewinne would have dragged on up here.”

Y/N laughed at the mental image of his words. “It is funny to see her dragging you to the infirmary. I think it was my first month down there when I saw that for the first time.”

“She made a big deal out of it that time. I was nowhere near needing to go to the infirmary.” Wriothesley shook his head at the memory.

“I thought it was cute.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don't think I would call that cute.”

“It calmed my nerves down back then. You know I only started working in the fortress as a way to get away from my problems.” She shook her head at her past self and smiled at what that choice had brought her in the end. “It might have been one of the few times I smiled that month. Seeing that you let Sigewinne drag you around was very cute.”

“I still wouldn't call it could cute.”

“Would you rather I call you cute?” She was half teasing.

“By any chance when you fell, did you hit your head too?” He teased back with a smirk knowing how her reaction was bound to go.

“You try standing balanced on your toes with a dog running at you!” She crossed her arms leaning back into a sofa before looking away from him. “I can't believe I attempted to give you a genuine compliment and you think it's out of an injury. I'm starting to think you really did come over to tease me.”

Wriothesley’s hand dropped from the back of the sofa onto her shoulder pulling her in close. “I haven't teased you once yet.”

With a roll of her eyes, Y/N turned her head towards him. “Now I know for sure you are just messing with me.” She tried to force a laugh down. “Quit looking at me like that.”

“Is it wrong to admire you?”

“You look like you are planning to do more than just admire me.”

“Only if you let me.”

“I let you know where the key to my home lies. I let you stay in my home despite your unannounced visit. I let you see me in my nightwear. Yet you still ask if I will let you. I think you know what I'll let you d-”

Was it right of Wriothesley to shut her up with a kiss? Considering the mini speech she gave it felt entirely right. Which only became reinforced by how she melted into the kiss. To be fair all he had craved was a few short kisses from her at least to make up for the ones he would steal from her while she was supposed to be working in the Fortress. They were always worth it even though every time she’d kick him out of the infirmary unable to hold back a smile or a laugh.

Y/N had pulled away from the kiss, moving herself onto his lap effectively caging him in on the sofa.

“I thought your ankle was hurting.”

“I’ve been resting all day. I’ll be fine.” Her hands had wandered onto his chest where she had begun to play with his tie, giving it a pull ever so lightly bringing him closer.

“Just making sure. I wouldn’t want you stressing your injury just cause eager for anothe-” He had been caught off guard, a welcomed change.

Y/N pulled him in close, placing a peck on his lips. “You definitely don't get to judge how I take care of an injury. I think I've lost count of how many times I've had to get on you about taking care of yourself.” The unintended double entendre lost on her for a second.

“I might listen more if you got on me like this.” Wriothesley kept a hand on her back keeping her close. The other hand was left on her thigh almost still as his thumb traced small circles.

Y/N barely had a chance to roll her eyes before she had been kissed again. She pulled away only for Wriothesley to keep planting kisses on her face. “I doubt you would.”

He spoke between kisses. “I’d listen to you read one of those medical books I see you going over on your breaks.”

She laughed. “You mean the medical records I’m writing in while I’m working?”

He kissed her once again. “Yes, those.”

“I know you’re joking but that is very much against the law for me to read to you unless it involves me trying to get a patient to the surface for more intense medical care.”

He leaned his head back. “I know what I said but if you start explaining anything like that for work again right now I will just leave to pick up dinner for us instead.” He warned, trying not to let their mood get ruined.

“You're lucky. I could have gone into chemical formulas or how there's a painkiller derived from mold.” She joked partially. There had been quite a large number of times that Wriothesley had walked in on a long discussion on the origins of certain drugs. As much as he cared for her, it was one of the driest conversations to ever witness repeatedly.

Wriothesley rolled his eyes. “I am begging you to shut up.”

“Do better at making sure I can't talk then.” She knew her words were bait, a challenge that she hoped he would take. Her face looked akin to a siren that was ready to invite him underneath the waves. And Wriothesley was happily willing to make good on what she told him to do.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #now if you know the song's second meaning #thats whats happening directly after this fic ends

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graciereadshannigram · 1 day

Text

hey fam, welcome to the May 2024 roundup of the best hannigram fics i've read this past month! i read several million words worth of fics, and these were the cream of the crop. i also managed to rewatch the show for the fifth time!! (unemployment has its perks lmao)

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes. as such, it is incredibly subjective.

you can find past rec lists below:

February March April

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

anyway, in no particular order, let's go!

Overcoming by purefoysgirl

Word Count: 547.5k Summary: A Victorian A/B/O romance in which Hannibal Lecter is the future Duke of Westvale who has been away at war for the past ten years. His Grandfather has made good on a contract made shortly after Hannibal's birth to procure him a wife. It was supposed to be easy. Naturally, with the Omega, Will, given in the place of his twin sister, it is anything but, because if there is one thing Hannibal Lecter despises, it's Omegas.

This fic had me holding back tears when it ended (after sobbing a couple different times). This was... incredible. What a fucking UNDERTAKING this author committed to, and despite this being a doorstopper of a fic, the plot did not miss a single beat. Just... wow. For the love of god, please read this.

Falls the Shadow by littlesystems

Word Count: 72.4k Summary: "You're a psychiatrist," Will says. "Between your personal and professional lives you must have met thousands of people, you must know dozens of different flavors of pathology. Do you know anyone who would take me as I am? Who would be able to love me," he gestures in a sweeping motion, from his messy hair to his stained knee, "just as I am?" "I do." Bedelia's words shock Will into stillness. “Really?” AKA an AU where Bedelia is Will’s psychiatrist instead of Hannibal, Will makes a series of increasingly questionable life choices, and no one should ever take Bedelia’s advice. Ever.

GIMME MORE STARSSSSSSSS. Bedelia as Will's psychiatrist was brilliant, holy shit. And Will understanding Hannibal and completely accepting him? This is something I see so rarely done in fics. Will always makes him be a lot less manipulative, or at least goes through heavy angst over it. But in this? Will was immediately endeared because that's just who Hannibal is.

Bram Stoker's HANNIBAL by DBMars

Word Count: 586.7k Summary: Love Never Dies. "I have crossed oceans of time to find you." Hannibal + Bram Stoker's Dracula + the classic novel = a new version of the seductive vampire legend. Count Hannibal Lecter loses the thing most precious to him -- the love of his life. God is beyond measure in wanton malice, and matchless in his irony. And so Hannibal renounces God, and becomes an immortal monster that feeds on the blood of the living. 400 years after losing his beloved, Count Lecter meets a man who looks exactly like the husband he lost -- reborn and returned. But who could learn to love a monster?

@dbmars you are a fucking genius. I am honestly still processing and figuring out how to communicate just how amazing this fic was. Do yourself a favor and go read it NOW.

the book of jonah by zipegs

Word Count: 18.1k Summary: A sudden breath of hot wind presses through the trees. For a moment, it feels fresh, alive, and then the dust—the pollen—comes along with it, a parasite hitched on the back of the breeze. Will is ravenous. --- After the fall, Will and Hannibal sojourn in a remote, decrepit cabin in South America while they await Chiyoh’s return. But something here is afflicting them, and it’s only getting worse.

Okay, bear with me. THIS WAS FUCKING AMAZING. I haven't felt this way after consuming a piece of media since I watched Guillermo del Toro's The Autopsy episode. Psychological horror mixed with body horror mixed with smut??? I guess that does it for me. I literally can't stop thinking about this fic. It's been two weeks and I am STILL thinking about it.

Wrong by HotMolasses (@snazzymolasses here on tumblr)

Word Count: 4.2k Summary: Will roughly rubbed his arm across his mouth again, trying to rub it off. Rub off the scent of Alana, after they’d kissed. After she’d kissed him. Or he’d kissed her? It was mutual. Until it wasn’t. Until Will breathed in her scent, so familiar, so Alpha, so…wrong. He’d pulled back forcibly, unable to hide the expression of revulsion on his face. “I…I need to go.” he said, sweeping his coat off the back of a chair on his way towards the door. “Lock up when you leave.” The weather was crap, and it probably wasn’t smart to drive in the snow while he was in pre-heat, but Will didn’t know what else to do. He needed to figure this out, he needed to talk to the only person who understood him. He needed to talk to Hannibal.

So ummmmmmm what do I need to do to turn this into like a whole AU?? As always, this was a total home run. Every single bit of it was perfect.

as soft, as wide as air by BlackKnightSatellite

Word Count: 193.9k Summary: After surviving the fall, Will finds he has far fewer hesitations about joining Hannibal than he would have guessed. Character death, but not Will or Hannibal.

Well shit. I read this immediately after a full rewatch of the show (in four days no less) and THIS is my new season 4 canon. It's brilliant and actually reads like a proper season would. And I love how it gives all the characters a concluded story line. Aside from Will and Hannibal. I also loved how much this explored Will's instability and how his mental state would be affected after he finally slung off all the guilt and allowed himself to fully enjoy killing. All around very good.

The Dispersal Method by @victorineb

Word Count: 16.9k Summary: It’s a normal fall day in the forest for Will Graham. Dead body in front of him, cannibal psychiatrist behind him, the usual. Then Will brushes against the wrong flower, and suddenly neither he nor Hannibal can keep their hands off each other. Now, Will must navigate his way out of the crime scene and Jack’s scrutiny while also trying not to jump Hannibal’s bones at every opportunity. Well, one out of three ain’t bad. Set nebulously in s2, post-Will's release from the BSHCI. Will’s a conflicted honeypot, Hannibal’s a (not-so) secretly-besotted asshole, and nobody has brought enough lube.

THIS IS THE BEST SEX POLLEN I'VE EVER READ. Seriously. The BEST out of pretty much any fandom (at least so far).

Between the Shadow and the Soul by raiast

Word Count: 48.7k Summary: When Will decides to stop taking his suppressants neither he nor Hannibal can deny the attraction between them. After nearly a decade of running from his biology, Will is faced with his primitive Omega urges full force. As if navigating his hormones wasn't enough, there is a killer at large with a very specific motive that seems to only be targeting preteen boys.

This might be my new favorite ABO fic? And one of the better case fics out there.

Sleepover by EarthsickWithoutYou

Word Count: 70k Summary: Set in Season 1, after "Fromage." Will is still confused about his kiss with Alana and seeks romantic advice on how to date and be more "smooth" from Hannibal. Little does he know that Hannibal is madly, passionately obsessed with him, and desperately jealous. Needless to say, Dr. Lecter is all too happy to teach Will everything he knows about love and dating.

This was pretty fluffy, tender, and fun, and it was exactly what I needed after finishing a heavier fic

Alana Finds Out by @victorineb

Word Count: 32.1k Summary: A series of one-shots in which Alana Bloom discovers, in the midst of various tropes, that her boyfriend Hannibal Lecter's feelings for Will Graham run far deeper than friendship. Basically a chance for Alana to shout at the pair of emotionally-repressed idiots whilst still indulging in much Hannigram loveliness.

Oh I loved all of this. This scratched that itch in my brain that loves when Alana realizes that Hannibal has wanted Will all along. And some of these one-shots are genuinely hysterical. Love.

Doctor's Orders by JSinister32

Word Count: 29.2k Summary: “He’s dead on his feet, Jack. I do not understand how you allowed him to come when he’s so obviously ill. There have been too many hours in service of your needs, so many that it seems to have affected any sleep that he may have gotten over the past few weeks. From what you and I have discussed, he has a difficult time shutting his mind down under the best of circumstances and this case today has clearly gotten to him.” The doctor stepped closer to the profiler, peering into his eyes as Will tried to focus. “Will? Can you hear me?” Will Graham has never been particularly good at taking care of himself. When he comes down with a severe cold while working on a string of murders, the new psychiatrist on retainer, Doctor Hannibal Lecter, offers to care for him. Will he be able to keep his feelings in check while Hannibal is in his home? Hannibal Lecter can't get the profiler working for the Violent Crimes unit out of his mind. When given the opportunity to care for him when he's ill, will his feelings for the other man come to light?

TENDER. I want like 70k more words of this. Especially Hannibal putting Jack in his place. Especially Hannibal washing Will's hair. Mmm. There's just something so good about Will letting Hannibal take care of him.

The First Condition of Immortality is Death by OneHandedBooks

Word Count: 92.5k Summary: Hannibal’s heart stopped for the first time after he’d dragged himself and Will out of the frigid ocean onto the rocky shore at the bottom of the bluff.

Oh this was GOOD. Very tender, good characterizations, and loved how Will's hallucinations were portrayed. This was just all a really good exploration of how their relationship could have progressed. This author also is incredibly good at showing the scenes in a way that I could watch them unfold in my head. This felt like a crystal clear movie.

What Do The Dead Know? by OneHandedBooks

Word Count: 7.6k Summary: He looks up at her, haloed by the sun. She could be anyone. No one. St. Abigail, patron of lilies and last chances. AU: What if Will joined Hannibal willingly after the Uffizi Gallery and they shared a few tense weeks in the world before Mason's men finally ran them down? In which Will writes, hallucinates, and succumbs to the dark side and Hannibal is a manipulative, brainwashing, bastard.

cw: Abigail/Will. But does it really count if it's a dream sequence? Regardless, this was something else, off the charts, big fan. The author NAILED the hallucinatory vibe that made this entire fic work so so well. Also, just Will working through his grief for Abigail this way made it that much more intense.

chimera of the chapel by bleakmidwinter

Word Count: 211.5k Summary: When Will Graham wakes up from a coma three months after the fall, Jack reveals that Hannibal Lecter didn't survive. Outside the realm of Hannibal's influence, Will decides to discover the full truth behind the world's sudden and seeming falsehood. Everybody seems to hold their own opinion on Hannibal's fate, but Will knows better than anyone that trust and honesty are as elusive as death.

The "presumed dead" trope might just be my new obsession. I adored this fic so much, the plot was incredible, the development of their relationship was spot on, and there were just some very tender moments.

wear my silence like a mask by bleakmidwinter

Word Count: 32.k Summary: After running into Hannibal at a Bass Pro Shop, Will is invited to a Masquerade Ball at his estate. Jack encourages him to attend for an opportunity to catch the Ripper. Extenuating circumstances tempt Will down an even graver path; Romance with the Ripper.

Three words: masked anonymous sex. That's all.

The Voices and the Shadows by darlinghogwarts, MaddyHughes

Word Count: 114.6k Summary: “The Chesapeake Ripper? The serial killer? That's a grisly thing to find at the bottom of a drink. Most people say oblivion ...or possibly sex.” Hannibal sips his wine again. “Why are you thinking about a murderer on your birthday, Will? Is it part of your degree?” “He is a part of my degree by my own choice. My supervisor didn’t approve, but…” He sighs. “I insisted.” AU where Will—a Masters student studying the Chesapeake Ripper—gets drunk on his birthday and meets an intriguing man at the bar.

Man, I wish I had had Hannibal as my thesis supervisor in grad school, hot damn. (Mine was pretty much too busy to help with anything, ended up doing it all myself – would not recommend.) This was was damn near perfect. I needed some good old fashioned angst. With a good and fluffy ending. This was a good AU!

Chasing Thoroughbreds by HigherMagic

Word Count: 42.8k Summary: After the fall, Chiyoh rescues Will and Hannibal and takes them to the Lecter home in Lithuania. When Hannibal wakes up, his memories of everything - Will, being the Ripper, everything since Mischa's death - are gone. Will's only problem with that is that killing Hannibal won't be nearly as satisfying if he doesn't understand why. Wrestling with his own feelings, or what's left in the tattered mess of them after the fight with Dolarhyde, Will stays, hoping that Hannibal will recover and give him the opportunity he's waiting for. But there are others who remember what Hannibal did, all those years ago, and they have their own bone to pick.

Ugh pretty sure I love almost everything HigherMagic writes and this did not disappoint. This was fantastic. I was absolutely captivated by Will's development through this and Hannibal was just as good.

Volto Larva by TreacleA

Word Count: 39k Summary: Will is having trouble unwinding after work. Hannibal helpfully suggests somewhere that may assist with that, with absolutely no ulterior motive whatsoever.

So ummmm I'm still blushing (in the best way) over parts of this fic because FUCK this is scorching. Anyway. That's all I've got to say LOL.

#hannigram #hannigram recs #hannigram fics #fic recs #hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #murder husbands #mads mikkelsen #hugh dancy #nbc hannibal #hannibal tv show #hannibal nbc #fannibals #dracula au #bram stoker's hannibal #overcoming fic #gracie reads hannigram

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wumblr · 2 days

Text

okay

For decades, nuclear power has been the largest source of clean energy in the United States, accounting for 19% of total energy produced last year

false. first sentence. off to a great start. you may notice this is a 2022 chart but i can tell you the only new reactors started since then are vogtle 3 and 4 (you may notice that's not a new power plant but new reactors at an existing plant), years late and $17b over budget, vogtle as a whole produces 1.1gwh, we use about 29 million annually. point being: it has not risen to 19%, the last reactor since vogtle was watts bar in 2016 and since then we've decommissioned 14 of them

The industry directly employs nearly 60,000 workers in good paying jobs

weirdly low estimate, almost by half

maintains these jobs for decades

"maintains" is doing a lot of work here, does that include toxic exposure payouts? because they are still fighting pretty hard to get those in the world's first nuclear contamination site, hanford

and supports hundreds of thousands of other workers

✅ true! 475,000 according to the NEI link above

In the midst of transformational changes taking place throughout the U.S. energy system

sure

the Biden-Harris Administration is continuing to build on President Biden’s unprecedented goal of a carbon free electricity sector by 2035

have they developed carbon free cement yet? (yes.) at scale? (no.) are we just not counting construction emissions because they're one-time emissions investments or how does this work exactly, i would love to know because i think we're also not counting emissions from waste transport to longterm storage because we haven't started doing that. anyway they've built a train for it even though we don't have a storage site so that's umm. that's uhh. fine i'm sure

while also ensuring that consumers across the country have access to affordable, reliable electric power

i guess you can still say "across the country" if you exclude texas as an outlier

and creating good-paying clean energy jobs.

i guess you can still call them good paying clean energy jobs if everybody who mines and refines the uranium dies of cancer because you just pulled out of the largest disarmament program in history due to it being geopolitically inadmissible (for russia... to continue... selling us the uranium from decommissioning...? i'm still trying to figure out the optics of that one but anyway as i have previously stated we didn't actually stop buying it in cases where it's "liable to cause supply chain issues")

Alongside renewable power sources like wind and solar, a new generation of nuclear reactors is now capturing the attention of a wide range of stakeholders

weird way to say that

for nuclear energy’s ability to produce clean, reliable energy and meet the needs of a fast-growing economy, driven by President Biden’s Investing in America agenda and manufacturing boom.

this is a carrier sentence to inject the president's name, but i would like to question which sectors of the growing economy are driving the most energy demand because i'm sure there are no nasty truths being elided there (it's computing)

The Administration recognizes that decarbonizing our power system, which accounts for a quarter of all the nation’s greenhouse gas emissions, represents a pivotal challenge requiring all the expertise and ingenuity our nation can deliver.

it's time once again for... the energy flow sankey chart! the reason the power system accounts for a quarter of greenhouse gas emissions is in no small part because 67% of it is lost to waste heat. has the nation's expertise and ingenuity started working on that yet

The Biden-Harris Administration is today hosting a White House Summit on Domestic Nuclear Deployment, highlighting the collective progress being made from across the public and private sectors

oh boy! a summit! talking about it is the same as doing it

Under President Biden’s leadership, the Administration has taken a number of actions to strengthen our nation’s energy and economic security by reducing – and putting us on the path to eliminating – our reliance on Russian uranium for civil nuclear power and building a new supply chain for nuclear fuel

gosh, i got ahead of myself and already criticized both of those things

including: signing on to last year’s multi-country declaration at COP28 to triple nuclear energy capacity globally by 2050

everybody criticized that

developing new reactor designs

which ones, the bill gates project that just got cancelled because utilities pulled out (edit: that's nuscale, the bill gates project is terrapower), the rolls royce submarine, or the one that just got regulatory approval (edit: this is also nuscale)

extending the service lives of existing nuclear reactors

yep! you sure showed the embrittlement at diablo canyon by doing nothing about it

and growing the momentum behind new deployments

nonsense clause, but it has this really ominous undercurrent due to its vagueness

Recognizing the importance of both the existing U.S. nuclear fleet and continued build out of large nuclear power plants, the U.S. is also taking steps to mitigate project risks associated with large nuclear builds and position U.S. industry to support an aggressive deployment target.

this one is not nonsense but they can't just out and out say "we are deregulating the industry because opening the process for public comment is most often the thing that slows it down" because then somebody might realize they're bulldozing ahead no matter what any constituent says, does, or actually wants

To help drive reactor deployment while ensuring ratepayers and project stakeholders are better protected, theAdministration is announcing today the creation of a Nuclear Power Project Management and Delivery working group that will draw on leading experts from across the nuclear and megaproject construction industry to help identify opportunities to proactively mitigate sources of cost and schedule overrun risk

i'm sure a revolving door working group packed with industry insiders can solve this without compromising their commitment to the profit motive, not that it particularly matters since the cost is passed on to the consumer in the form of fees on the electric bill

The United States Army is also announcing that it will soon release a Request for Information to inform a deployment program for advanced reactors to power multiple Army sites in the United States

good god... that is a fresh nightmare i did not see coming

Additionally, the Department of Energy released today a new primer highlighting the expected enhanced safety of advanced nuclear reactors

"expected" really serves to demonstrate several points i've made

i'm going to stop going line by line here because i know this is already too boring and long for anyone to read this far, unless anybody wants to know what i think about parts 50, 52, and 53 of the NRC licensing guidance -- which many of you have very clearly stated over the years that you don't -- and while i do want to acknowledge that it does go into more detail and even answer some of the questions i raised (vogtle comes up, diablo canyon comes up, a list of which SMR designs is given, or at least a list of the companies responsible for them),

what i would like to focus on is one conspicuous absence:

the reason we need a new fleet of reactors is because they are an essential part of the bomb production chain. they are the beginning of the refinement process, and we cannot carry out the plan (already underway) to replace the minutemen missiles currently in silos with sentinel missiles without significant new construction. we cannot start the president's desired wars with russia and china without the new sentinels. he's not going to be the one to carry this out, he's ensuring whoever is his successor in about 2030 or more likely 2040 will be armed to do so. limited amount of time left to prevent that

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perfectfangirl · 3 days

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notes after rewatching fallout s1 ep7

• the beginning of this episode shows two characters dressed in gear that's very ncr [new california republic] and to me, it's a very fallout: new vegas scene and fallout: new vegas thing • a father and son of lead farmers. depicted as honest, humble folk. oh cooper's here sitting at their table in their house eating their dinner 💀 • the man, adam, calls for his daughter, sandra. cooper continues to eat the delicious, nutritious meal. adam has a horrified expression on his face • sandra, a young girl, walks over and gives cooper something to drink. she... appears unafraid of cooper. she appears to treat him as one would a guest. cooper says "thank you, darling"--- i almost forgot about this but this was the nicest thing he has said post war to anybody in this show

• lmao the wasteland thinks so little of ghouls, this guy thought this man had cooked and eaten his daughter 😭 • "oh, wait... you thought...? come on now." cooper responds as he laughs at the thought, the wasteland and ghoul perception is that bad omg help • adam tells sandra to go outside. tbh i am starting to believe the theory cooper is much more nicer to women and girls than he is males but i digress anyways • cooper seemed to genuinely laugh and say a nice thing for once to someone here, the lucy juice must be working • "lead farming, huh? why, hell, i probably still got some of your lead in me somewhere." i cannot understand what cooper is talking about here. i was trying to figure if they knew each other like that but i wasn't connecting enough and feel like i am missing information again. • cooper and adam may seem to know one another but cooper came to ask adam about moldaver • "i'll tell you anything, as long as you leave us in peace." sigh

• adam looks like he has a scar on his face, wonder where he got it from • cooper inquires about how many kids adam has. adam reveals the oldest ran off to be apart of moldaver's movement and calls moldaver "that madwoman in the hills" • cooper asks adam if his oldest is named roofus. adam mentions he never said his oldest's name and cooper deduces the young male beside adam is tommy • tommy looks afraid and looks like he gulps as adam asks him "what did you do?" • cooper saying "well, you see, daddyo…" has got to be like the fifth time he says "daddy" in this show 😭💀, like what is his obsession with referring to people's fathers this way [time to hurt? probably because he's been searching two hundred years for the person who use to call him that so that word is always on his mind anyway 😞]

• cooper unfolds the letter and is it revealed to have a blood stained hole in it, adam's older son roofus got adam's youngest son tommy mixed in with moldaver's dealings, roofus was the one who sent tommy caps to pay a courier to transport siggi safely to moldaver • "but my problem is, by the time i got this letter off your brother, it was a little bit hard to read." cooper says holding up the bloody letter hole as he uses an eye to peer through it--- cooper you scary mf 😭 • "now, you give me the location, and i'll be on my way." cooper states. tommy tells his father sorry. tommy is so young. adam begins to plead with tommy to tell cooper the location. tommy replies "i didn't want to spend my life digging through dirt. i want to build something and we have the chance…" before tommy can say anymore, adam implores tommy "tell him what he wants to know! he's gonna kill us all! including your sister." [don't think i believe that last part but] • my question is… i wonder why the letter wasn't written in code… • "she's at the observatory" tommy says in the calmest sounding voice. moldaver's location is revealed just like that • how did cooper that tommy would want to come after him? has he seen this movie before? • i suppose revenge is an obvious motivator for tommy getting revenge on cooper killing roofus but it not also being something adam or even sandra would pursue is interesting as well [they're not mixed in with moldaver and she's a young child he has to care for] • adam saying he won't ☹️ • before tommy can grab the rifle, cooper shoots ihm. cooper slowly gets up, reholsters his gun, gathers his things, puts on his hat, and departs without another word • weirdly not convinced tommy is dead, it looks like a shot to the shoulder. he just doesn't seem like it but i digress • adam is left crying with his son's choices, being left only with sandra

• cooper continues his journey in the desert, his expression is a little enigmatic to me but. he inhales a chem under the baking sun • found it so curious cooper had the thought to take his hat off when entering someone's house? this was the first time. it got knocked off at sorrel's outpost and stayed on for all other indoor scenes. parallel this with him pre war going to moldaver's meeting at hollywood forever cemetery with a hot on and taking it off by the time the meeting starts [such a gentleman! 💀] • as cooper treks across the wasteland, moldaver speaking in the meeting in pre war is overlaid. almost as if he was remembering it • "what's it about california that we all came to this place?" i don't know but that place fucking rocks • cooper goes into moldaver's meeting with preconceived notions to begin with, he's already squirming in his seat when she begins her speech • "when you think of the promise of the american dream, you think of california. but it is just that a dream. it's not real. we were told the atom bomb meant the end of war. that didn't work out, did it? we were told america's always getting better. it's always moving toward a better future. but the future is getting closer, ans we can see it. their "better future" is a cliff's edge. and it's coming up fast, isn't it?" moldaver talked for a few minutes and told not a single lie. not a single one. • moldaver's quote in particular "their "better future" is a cliff's edge" is one of the most realest meta statements in the show, it's too good--- • "these soldiers that we're fighting abroad, their families, we have more in common with them than we do with the people here in power, the real enemy" is the final straw for cooper. he decides it's time for him to leave. but not before quipping "that's about all the horseshit i can take." • moldaver pauses her insightful and real ass speech to ask cooper what he said. so he repeats himself. moldaver hits him with a "i didn't realize america's favourite gunslinger was so sensitive". this draws a laugh or two from the attendants. it's poking fun at that manufactured hollywood persona of him being this manly man i guess. what i do take notice is that yes, cooper is sensitive. we know that. he is both sensitive about his principles and sensitive about the principles of others and the critique of such [i.e. the next conversation after this meeting ending up being about him figuring about him spying on his wife because moldaver asks him to interrogate his morality and barb's] • cooper then says "i have my principles, miss williams, that's all." isn't it crazy that cooper use to be someone that even when he disagreed with someone fundamentally, he was still respectful and decent? he had a whole argument with barb and she raised her voice more. compare when cooper got mad at lucy when his vials got crushed in the bait scene. he yelled then pulled his gun on her. lucy literally had to explain how absurd he was being in doing that because her not wanting to be bait and her using his bag to defend herself was not unreasonable. the gap is almost astonishing. that's the same guy. use to be. • [moldaver use to go by the last name williams, i see]

• cooper keeps responding but attempting to leave while he does but again moldaver pokes and prods. "uh huh. and those principles of yours, how much did vault tec pay to take them off your hands?" oh he's getting flamed now • lmao they show the meeting attendants playing tennis watching cooper and moldaver go back and forth • "well, this is america. everyone has a sponsor and, uh, i'm not ashamed to earn a living." "vault tec is the largest company in america. there's a lot of money in selling the end of the world." "well, i'm sure there's a lot of money in selling a political ideology that ends in breadlines." "fascist" is this not my college sociology class, good god--- • subtitles coming in clutch again! because the camera pans so i can't see why says it but i full well assume it was moldaver who called cooper a fascist, didn't even hear it the first watch • no wonder charlie intervened. it got a little heated forreal. didn't even know they made a near direct wwii? reference like that idk • charlie is so embarrassed, he says "this was a mistake. we'll be leaving" 😢

• if not for the "fascist" statement, i would've thought this was another tuesday afternoon for moldaver. but she thanks charlie for bringing cooper. then drops the plot twist that she knows barb like that • i do not! know! why they made cooper smile in this scene, but thank you director • cooper and moldaver take a walk and we discover that barb's division at vault tec acquired moldaver's research company. and before all this, they were developing technology that was hard to monetize. the cold fusion. the infinite energy. the reason for the entirety of season one after the bombs drop. still. • "that's what i was on the verge of achieving when vault tec swept in and bought up every company i'd ever worked for" [spooky af, fellas!] "every one of them? so what are you, a millionaire communist?" cooper sarcastically replies with. • moldaver then says "hypocrisy is like violence in your movies. if you only let the bad guys use it, the bad guys win." cooper then goes on "yeah? i, uh i got a little showbiz secret for you. a good bad guy doesn't see themselves as the bad guy." this show is sick because this could go for cooper, barb, bud, hank, lucy, maximus, the brotherhood of steel, vault tec, china, i could keep going, help

• moldaver says something else i find unsettling "america has been locked in a resource war for over a decade. vault tec bought the means to end that war, the same war you fought in. so they could put it on the shelf. all because it didn't fit into their business model." the revelation is nutty • moldaver basically asks for cooper's help in getting the resource back [by spying on barb] • actually super crazy how easy it was to get cooper to spy on barb but at the same time... he's been questioning and doubting. we all already know she keeps stuff from him. plus the "no dogs allowed in the vaults" was the topping point • the way cooper looked at the listening device and his bewildered? smile slowly fades from his face once he realizes the implications • him responding with "good luck with the revolution" was funny gldldl • moldaver reveals the real reason people are being called communists "i'm not a communist, mr. howard. that's just a dirty word they use to describe people who aren't insane." • this whole scene still got me wanting answers for so much. i still want to know how moldaver made it to the wasteland and how is it that destiny placed cooper to help her get he resource back pre war but now in the post war wasteland, cooper is bounty hunting her. wouldn't be surprised if there's more moldaver flashbacks in future seasons

• lucy is unknowingly fucking up the rotation in vault 4. overseer benjamin [in a move that maybe should've happened to begin with 😭] shows lucy the rape of vault 4's experiment • "we let you into your home. tended to your wounds, gave you food and water." birdie informs lucy. second viewing makes me feel so bad for all that havoc they caused these already traumatized and victimized people like • "but you had to go to level 12" please somebody write them a review, a change how y'all handle this for newcomers 😭 • lucy thinks the residents of vault 4 are taking people and experimenting on them. but she is wrong. she got it all wrong • overseer benjamin and birdie had to kinda retraumatize themselves and be vulnerable for lucy to get it • as the tape plays, lucy asks "what is this?" "your history" birdie says--- oof • lucy getting another disillusionment dose this time as a video of vault tec's fucked up experiments

• lmao the tape is so fucked up but funny--- doctor lloyd and doctor cassandra hawthorne are clinically insane scientists with no moral compass and a villain complex. ironically they starred in the vault tec vault ads with cooper, their vault being the one where they run a sort of scientocratic technocracy in the wake of nuclear warfare. their experiment did not succeed. or... maybe it did but not because of them but because of vault 4's victims and shady sands survivors • doctor lloyd begins the tape with "ok. overseer hawthorne. final log entry. at this point, it would be irrational of me not to acknowledge that these may be my last words" he looks scared but also frantic, like something is coming after them [and it so is] "but despite our results here, i want to reiterate that a society governed by scientists..." he is interrupted by doctor cassandra trying to barricade the door. she calls him "honey" hehehe "really is the ideal social structure.." it is not. 💀

• doctor lloyd, what he's saying, is like farce. how is this, a society governed by scientists an ideal social structure? when they are being revolted by the very people they experimented on • "what happened here should not be used as a case study for what happens when scientists are given unregulated control." lmao we know it is though • some of doctor's lloyd's final statements being vault tec corporate managerial evil "and hybridizing humans with radioactive resistant species still has potential. our test subjects were less compliant than we expected" they could've used an ethics oversight committee but anyways 💀 overseen benjamin's great uncle peter ate doctor lloyd and doctor cassandra tf up • almost wonder if great uncle peter was the same gulper that swallowed siggi's head lol

• overseer benjamin is saddened by rewatching the footage as lucy expresses confusion between the tape and the scene she saw herself on level 12. "i don't understand, in the lab, i saw your doctors..." lucy trails before birdie finishes "trying to ease the pain of the poor souls your people lured into this place." now the operative word in this statement is "your". does birdie know what vault lucy is from and what it means and what they've done there? or as a shady sands survivor wastelander is she talking about people born in the vaults who got there because of vault tec? • birdies goes on "his ancestors were used as lab rats. by the original residents of vault 4. until the lab rats rebelled." • lucy feeling really stupid and bad apologizes immediately. lucy tells them her vault is simply not like this. overseer benjamin asks lucy what their vault experiment was. lucy states there is no experiment. again i say, vault 31, 32, 33 experiment is a success--- overseer benjamin and birdie exchange glances. every vault has an experiment.

• "your ignorance cannot excuse your cruelty. you have infected our home with violence." is such a banger coming from birdie, it's so therapized • birdie tells lucy she'll pay the price for all this, guards come and seize lucy, put a black bag over her head, and take her away. as lucy is hauled off from storage, she pleads with her captors "please, please, i'm a good person" look how slippery this slope has gotten • lucy wants to do the right thing. and yet. has found herself being the offender in this situation. • maximus is in the lap of post apocalyptic luxury as he sees lucy being lead down the hallway in front of his unit. he wordlessly vows to do something about it 🥲 [ok knight in shining armour] • the way maximus is eating the popcorn in this scene lgdgldlf

• meanwhile! a secondary character is in possession of siggi's head 😭 • dogmeat is pulling on the squire equipment thaddeus is dragging because siggi's head is in it 😞 • thaddeus has been hobbling across the wasteland with dogmeat and this squire pack, he stops to sit inside the trunk of a rusted car. the full extent of thaddeus' injuries are shown as he carefully exposes his mangled as shit foot • "oh shit. i'm gonna fucking die" thaddeus says realizing his foot looks so goddamn bad lmao 😭 • dogmeat being a dog starts licking thaddeus' eviscerated ass foot, to his disdain • thaddeus starts? berating? dogmeat? 😭 "you know what? if you were a person, you wouldn't have any friends, you realize that?" not a bully talking like thisss • thaddeus pulling out siggi's head "this stupid fucking thing. oh, you want this too, huh?" everybody wants this. guess what? it's mine." and not for long • "you think everything's for you. it's pretty selfish, actually, you know that? bite what you want to bite, go where you want to go. it's always something." why is thaddeus talking to this dog like this, like how lucy was talking to that mr. handy 😭

• i do not like that thaddeus stuffed dogmeat in the nuka cola dispenser leaving her to die--- this show had somebody eating another person's uncooked flesh but this move upset me because dogmeat ain't got opposable thumbs 😭 • sure thaddeus made sure dogmeat could breathe but he was annoyed with her, he so wasn't coming back 😭 like that's a baby • thaddeus' plan is to contact the brotherhood of steel about the head and gain glory from it • you know what's wild about thaddeus putting dogmeat in the nuka cola dispenser is that dogmeat could have easily attacked thaddeus and killed him before all this. so it's really so much she got stuffed in that thing, she was whimpering and everything, please--- • it's so curious that in this scene, it looks like it's both snowing and raining

• lmao so lucy thinks she's about to get executed for her crimes against vault 4 • also can you blame her? they're all chanting in a room with her restrained in the center across from a mf scimitar 😭 • while the audience is chanting eating popcorn, lucy is pulling at and gnawing at her rope restraints lgdgldfl • birdie begins during this time "we are all survivors here. lucky enough to have found this sanctum of peace. of tolerance. it doesn't matter where you come from or what you believe. you deserve safety. unless... you threaten that peace." looking back, birdie told not a single lie and again • overseen benjamin pucks up the huge scimitar, raising it "for causing harm to a fellow survivor, you are hereby sentenced to death... by banishment." lucy flinches but then realises as overseer benjamin slams the apparently dull scimitar on lucy's restraints. this was all ritualistic and ceremonial gdldlldg • noticed the doctor lucy burned earlier is also shown in the crowd cheering, he has a patch on his face, he seems ok 💀 • lucy expressed surprise at them letting her go, them not exactly realizing where she's been and maybe assuming she's only just been mostly in her vault. "you'll be killed almost immediately on the surface by lord knows what." lmaooo "that's why we're giving you two weeks of supplies to take with you" 😭 • lucy is being banished and given supplies, it's so crazy like • [overseer benjamin thanks the vault dweller for handing him the supplies, so less of a jerk here lol] • they want lucy gone immediately tho 💀 • lucy realising by association for maximus so she says "my friend really likes it here. and he's a good person. he deserves to be somewhere nice and safe, like this. i know i'm not really in the position to be asking for favours but... can he stay?" lucy is really thoughtful and selfless here. but y'all knew that 🥲 • ironic that lucy is banished and attempts to vouch for maximus' character, meanwhile, maximus steals that whole vault's fusion core to rescue lucy--- guess who else getting banished 😭 • why is the room to the fusion core not guarded though fsgkdkg • lucy tries to warn maximus but he goes on a mini rampage in vault 4, causing chaos, throwing people around, wasting food, having residents cowering in fear. all this because he thought lucy was in a pickle 😭 • all maximus has to say for himself is "oops" and "sorry" and "maybe somebody check on him" and the guy is not moving lmao • out on the surface lucy and maximus argue about maximus taking vault 4's fusion core. backup power would only last a few days and lucy demands he return it. maximus' explanation is he needs the fusion core to power the power suit. lucy tells him giving it back is the right thing to do. maximus explains he can't be a knight without the fusion core. lucy pointedly tells him he's not really a knight if he steals anyways. • maximus wants to use the armour to help lucy and in relinquishing the fusion core back to vault 4, it may mean not finding hank. without a single moment's hesitation, lucy says "if my dad found out that i destroyed an entire community to save him, that'd break his heart."--- how cruel the irony and parallel and reverse • it makes her reaction at the observatory that so much more soul crushing knowing hank didn't think twice bombing shady sands. that he wrecked a whole community in regards to her. that she never even considered it meanwhile he's done it at least twice • lucy talks maximus into doing the right thing ™

• back in the hawthorne institute building, maximus drops the fusion core back to vault 4. lucy asks maximus "thinking 'bout those oysters?" "mhm". it feels like lucy wants to make it up to maximus, this whole thing. lucy's vault doesn't have oysters but they have canned tuna and she thinks maximus might still enjoy it. maximus isn't really thinking about what she's saying in the same way she is until • "i was supposed to marry a stranger from another vault. it didn't turn out so good." ☹️ • lucy continues to tell maximus "i don't have the best luck when it comes to strangers... i can honestly say you are the best stranger that i've ever met. you're a good person, titus. and if you wanted to, when all this is over, you could come and live with us in vault 33. with me." this scene is painful because, before the finale, it's all well and good. but maximus' web of lies and then the brotherhood of steel having cold fusion and on top of norm uncovering the crime of the century in vault 31, 32, 33 means this all was a pipe dream. it was so sweet. but vault tec is evil ☹️ • maximus finally breaksdown and tells lucy the full and honest truth. "my name isn't titus. it's maximus. titus is the name of the knight who owned this suit before me. he was threatening me, so instead of helping him i watched him die. and i took his armour and i lied to you." the way before maximus did this, lucy told him to "just say yes" to her asking him to come stay at her vault 😞 • maximus doesn't think he's a good person. then lucy reveals she splashed acid in an innocent man's face. nothing stays clean up here • even after all this, lucy still asks maximus to come live with her in her vault 😢 • lucy been in this mf for two weeks lmao

• ok so i get why thaddeus was at the post apocalyptic radio station, because dj carl had a signal [and some pre war music] • thaddeus is listening in an i only noticed now that dj carl said he does not receive visitors to the station and this explains why it was booby trapped 😭 • the next shot is the snake oil salesman putting a gun to his mouth ready to put himself on a shirt. wild. he sees thaddeus and immediately runs after him to sell one of his disturbing little drugs to him • "don't kill me! i'm a doctor. i can help you." 😭 insane • the snake oil salesman called thaddeus' fucked up foot a "tattered tootsy" gfldgldgd • as the snake oil salesman explains his repertoire, thaddeus pulls out and cocks his gun, the snake oil salesman can see thaddeus do this in the reflection of the mirror on the mantelpiece. oof. "what's stopping me from just killing you and taking your whole thing of drugs?" thaddeus blurts out. somebody come get this mannn. snake oil salesman really has to tell thaddeus that only he knows which elixir will cure or kill him, thaddeus is crazy for pulling the blicky out like this

• thaddeus trading a fusion core for idk eternal life is somethin'. what is the snake oil salesman gone do with that? hmmm • i think the snake oil salesman gave him the real deal because a fusion core is like high payment • the concoction is like regeneration but tastes bad. almost thought thaddeus got poisoned he was coughing so hard, thaddeus' foot heals very well [but still appears broken] • the snake oil salesman tells thaddeus the radios station is near shady sands but thaddeus is like? it's radioactive there the snake oil salesman is like "well, you don't have to worry about that anymore, do you, buddy boy?" ayyy lmao what did he give him? did he give him some super mutant? ghoulification? thing? why did he say this??

• back in vault 33, norm is feeding the imprisoned raiders everyday. then i notice they repreise "what a diff'rence a day makes" by dinah washington, same song used in episode 5 when vault 33 enters vault 32 where it's all been cleaned away, it's the coverup song • veronica is blamed for the raider prisoners being poisoned but i didn't understand why she was implicated, she didn't make or serve the food [sounds like a coverup] • but. rat poison is often slow acting. so this is why i think the raider prisoners were poisoned over time • "what did i tell you, norman?" words have meaning" overseer betty tells him. i don't particularly think she had anything to do with this. steph on the other hand... • but isn't it wild overseer betty starts the "resettlement initiative" before hardly leaving the mass casualty event • [this is forced resettlement btw] • this show is real for realistically showing recovering from that baby by having steph icing her private area lol

• norm goes to visit chet and registers that chet has been moved to vault 32 [norm is losing a cousin and friend 😭] • i say step was strategic with getting with chet because of the conversation norm and chet go on to have • norm asks chet "so you're gonna forget about everything we've seen?" then chet "i feel like this is a good moment for a fresh start." "you think so?" "someone obviously does." and i wonder who that is • norm is obviously, naturally, and rightfully upset at this. "you're a coward. you know know that, chet?" chet returns norm a smile laced with fear and astutely surmises "we all are, norm. that's why we live in a vault." chet closes the unit door ending the conversation with norm. • chet giving a succint response to the state of affairs for vault dwellers that even norm himself can't escape still has me

• cooper is a bloodhound. he comes upon the dilapidated red rocket gas station thaddeus was at, sees some blood on the ground and tastes it. what for, your guess is as good as mine 😭 • cooper hears whimpering from the nuka cola dispenser 😭 he lets dogmeat out and says something unhinged "alright, let's go find your daddy" i can't tell if he's already dropping the accent here but 🥲 • in the past, not only are we greeted with another radiation king but also a scene directly related to cooper and hid dog, roosevelt • cooper is taking hits off his old fashioned smoking pipe, reading a magazine, roosevelt laying in his lap. king starts eying barb's unattended pip boy on the counter • cooper bugs that bad boy while barb is none the wiser

• colour analysis time again! because they're wearing the same [and maybe the exact] colours and outfits from episode 5, barb is in all blue [no reds or pinks] and cooper is in his signature blue and yellow. janey appears to be in blue and yellow in this scene too! with mostly yellow like cooper. interesting. • cooper has full blown started spying on his wife but gets cold feet after gazing at roosevelt. "you're right, roosevelt. what are you thinking." cooper says, a mix between talking to his dog and himself 😢 he throws the listening device in the trash. cooper loves and trusts barb so much. too much. • the scene transitions to a dichotomy, barb restfully sleeping in bed, again none the wiser, not a care, it seems. then there is cooper--- nursing a cigarette, watching the vault tec vault 4 ad he filmed for the ill fated doctor lloyd and doctor cassandra. cooper cannot sleep. this is a metaphor for their individual consciences.

• cooper is outside now in the witching hour with roosevelt sifting through trash looking for the listening device. "no dogs in the vault, huh?" cooper says after finally finding it. cooper loved roosevelt so much, he was willing to upend his marriage and discover a corporate conspiracy over him, i could cry 😭 • cooper lovingly kisses roosevelt on the head and no sooner does the scene cut to post war cooper refusing attention from dogmeat telling her "i'm sorry, dogmeat, but you ain't him." cooper has but dropped his accent when speaking this to dogmeant, his sad and hurt mask slipping • i guess dj carl was only booby trapping for angry critics because he let thaddeus use the radio to hit up the brotherhood of steel lol • thaddeus asking about the critics of dj carl's music "oh, people get fully mad." 😂 now that thaddeus is healed, he's much nicer, even acting a bit cute lol • refinement and taste for the arts still being in the wasteland tho gdldflgdl • "great job on these bobby traps, by the way" 😭 and it's still got bodies in them, help 😭 • thaddeus points and says "that one's crazy", tears in my eyes. really is some shit out of the fallout games • dj carl goes "critics." shaking his head with thaddeus ironically saying "yeah. people just, uh, can't be nice" 😭 same guy almost shot the snake oil salesman before he cured him

• dj carl sees lucy and maximus walking up and asks thaddeus if they're his ride. thaddeus takes out his gun and dj carl is like "guess not. ok." and closes the window to his radio station quick lmao • the signs around the radio station say "no visitors", "no requests", "keep out", and "no tresspassing violators will be executed" 💀 • lmao idk if he was panicking or what but thaddeus starts shooting and unloads his entire clip--- lucy and maximus are so fucking confused, checking to see if they've been hit, "god, i suck without a scope" thaddeus shot like fifteen times 😭 • lucy and maximus raise their hands after all that, lucy informs thaddeus she was the one who cut siggi's head off • thaddeus forgets where he is because he walks backwards into a booby trap and a whole. arrow. goes through his neck 😫 lucy is mortified and so am i ❤️ • when thaddeus tries to talk, it sounds gurgley, he doesn't get why he's not dead but takes the arrow out, lucy and maximus look like they want to vomit gldgldfld • idk how they can see from that distance but everyone notices thaddeus' wound heals up. maximus thinks thaddeus is a ghoul now [maybe a super mutant instead?] • "aw, i'm so stupid" i should've never trusted a doctor that smelled like that." please?? • dj carl opens the hatch to see the brotherhood of stell approaching then promptly closes it • lucy asks "the brotherhood is the good guys?" tell me why thaddeus and maximus was like "uh, it's a complicated organization" not them knowing this faction is 💀 • i realized thaddeus did a 180° on wanting to give the brotherhood of steel siggi's head because maximus convinced him he was some type of altered person [whether ghoul or super mutant] the brotherhood of steel discriminates against both • maximus lets thaddeus flee, by taking the head--- thaddeus is so? because why did he tell lucy and maximus "uh, i'm sorry about... a lot of things and i didn't mean for... ok, nice meeting you. bye!" i cannot even explain how funny it is to see maximus pull a pacifist speech check by getting everyone out of that alive fldgdlfld • maximus buys lucy time to take siggi's head to moldaver while he uh lies to the brotherhood of steel to give her time to get hank, he gets a head from the radio station fdlgdlf • "find your dad. go home. that's what i want for you" ☹️ • "they're never gonna stop looking for the artifact" the brotherhood of steel always find out • lucy and maximus kiss like they'll never see each other again. the two heads in their respective arms also lock lips 💀 lucy and maximus kiss twice [this one's for you vaultknight] • dj carl opens his porthole and smiles. i am howling. • maximus is given something he's probably not had since childhood but anyways 🥲 • kind of a diss for overseer betty to say the people selected for vault 32 from vault 33 have "been chosen for agreeability, stick-to-itiveness, and all of the other qualities that make for a successful pioneer" what about the ones not chosen from vault 33? sheesh • woody gets cold feet, he doesn't want to go live in vault 32. but it is not up to woody--- he is stopped by vault guards. there is no choice [this is a dictatorship i guess] • they treat woody's desire to not be forcefully moved as an outburst by him. they wait for his dissent to turn back into compliance. it is crazy.

• who would have guessed steph would become overseer of vault 32 • norm has had enough and leaves the ceremony, the last glimpse of chet's face not unlike woody's had been • not sure how norm gets to slip by but he decides to play detective again at a terminal • under the guise of being overseer betty, norm pretends there's a problem as an excuse to talk to overseer 31 • this is fallout's version of the internet lol • noticing norm is talking to a brain in a jar, bud askins, is crazyyy--- idk how often overseer betty and him talk but bud fell for the bait quickly • norm posing as overseer betty goes to vault 31, watching it open as he once again is able to open a door with a lock he didn't even have to pick

• one thing about this episode i want to talk more about is the fact that yes, the wasteland is cruel and unforgiving and even still it can also be warm and loving and has evidenced by the survivors of vault 3, they were weird but nice. just like maximus said about lucy. they went out of their way to help lucy and maximus and those two could've spent the rest of their life there, probably. thank goodness the test subject victims revolted. they turned a hellhole into a home. • any other place, lucy would've been harmed for hurting an innocent person and the fact is that they banished her to the surface, let her live, gave her supplies 😭 vault 4 was the nicest, most compassionate people in the show. i really loved seeing a flower in the desert like that • vault 4 prospers not because but in spite of doctor lloyd's and doctor cassandra's experiments • i hope to see more of vault 4 • another thing i wanted to touch on was something i noticed for a few episodes now and addressed last episode. and it's that poc in this show are the canary in the coal mine, the alarm system, for the going's on with vault tec and the larger societal conspiracy of greed and power grabbing through war. charlie, moldaver, birdie. to name a few. i could make more cases. but anyways, poc being on the ground trying to tell the world about self cannibalizing systems we live under falling on deaf and delusional ears are not lost on me

#fallout #fallout show #the radio #cooper #the ghoul #lucy #maximus #thaddeus #ghoulcy #vaultknight #text post #my meanderings

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perseabeth · 1 day

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Milo’s Lyre

this is a one shot written about @anotheroceanid amazing fic titled When the Horizon Bloom, read it on AO3 you will enjoy it very much and get your heart broken in the most beautiful way possible. I published another one shot about this fic titled “What If” you can read it too- I got this idea last night during my angst hour with @anotheroceanid, and after few tears, and of course her inspiration, I decided that you should cry with us too! - i do not own the idea of the fic and i certainly do not own any character, all belong to the great author of the fic that made me cry more than my college curriculum enjoy ✨

Apollo no longer remembers how the dream began. He isn't even certain how he can dream at all. He once believed that gods were immune to such mortal experiences, but ever since his love vanished, dreams and nightmares have haunted him in every stolen moment he tries to delve into slumber. This dream, however, was different.

It was serene. Apollo sat upon a rock, a glittering sea stretching before him. His heart ached with a profound sorrow. The sea... How could he ever gaze upon the ocean again without seeing her eyes? How could he ever look at the waves and not remember the way they mirrored her gaze?

Sometimes, he would embark on frantic quests, searching for the sea that truly captured the color of her eyes, just to glimpse those sea-green eyes once more.

How long had it been? Seven years? For gods, time was an irrelevant concept, a fleeting notion in the face of immortality. Normally, seven years would pass as quickly as seven minutes. But these seven years... These years had stretched into millennia. He never knew time could crawl so slowly, could torture so mercilessly.

Apollo cradled his golden lyre, the instrument that once brought her such joy. He remembered the first time she heard him play, the radiant sparkle in her eyes, the breathtaking smile that stole his soul forever. His fingers, delicate and reverent, brushed against the strings, coaxing a serene melody from the lyre. Each note floated through the air like a whisper, and even the restless sea stilled its waves, entranced by the music.

Minutes passed in this harmonious reverie until Apollo felt a presence behind him—a presence so calm, so peaceful, carrying the unmistakable scent of the sea. Hope surged through him. Could it be his love? Could he finally see her in his dreams?

He turned his head slowly, afraid to wake from this fragile hope. As he did, his eyes met sea-green ones, and his heart melted, his soul awakening. Percy’s eyes… But something wasn’t right. The figure before him was a young boy, no older than six or seven, with golden curls that framed his face in a halo of sunlight. The boy was breathtakingly beautiful. Apollo's heart clenched as he took in the boy’s features. They reminded him of himself in one moment, and then of his love in the next, as if he were a perfect blend of them both.

Apollo's heart clenched. This boy… he looked like the son he might have had if Percy were still here. Shock rendered him speechless as he gazed into those familiar eyes. It was as if the child embodied the essence of their love, a living testament to a future that had been cruelly taken from them.

The boy stood cautiously, studying Apollo with a curious intensity. His golden locks tumbled over his forehead, and he wore a simple chiton that only enhanced his cherubic innocence.

“Can I see this, sir?” The boy’s voice was soft and melodic, yet firm and confident—far beyond his six years. His eyes darted to the lyre in Apollo’s hands, and Apollo finally realized what the boy wanted.

But Apollo was too shocked to speak. The boy stood silently, waiting for Apollo's response. When he finally understood, he nodded. “Of course.”

The boy took careful steps toward Apollo. As he stood before him, the sun god wondered who had raised this child. Most children snatched what they desired without hesitation; they didn’t wait politely for anything. Yet, this boy's sea-green eyes looked up at him with pure innocence and curiosity. He bent slightly to study the lyre, his hands kept respectfully to himself as if he were afraid to touch it.

Apollo realized the boy wouldn't touch the lyre unless he gave it to him.

“Here,” he extended the lyre to the boy. “You can hold it.

The boy hesitated, shaking his head. “No, no, it must be precious.” His voice was filled with a respectful reverence that belied his age, making Apollo's heart beats with admiration.

Apollo gave the young boy a gentle smile. “No, it will be fine here,” he said, pushing the lyre into the boy’s hands. The boy took it with utmost care, his eyes filling with wonder as he studied it. He looked at the lyre as if it were the eighth wonder of the world, his interest and amazement clear.

“Can I ask how you made it, sir? It is amazingly beautiful,” the boy asked, his curiosity shining with pure beauty and innocence.

Apollo smiled fondly, remembering how the lyre came into his possession. “My brother stole my cattle and gave this to me,” he chuckled.

The boy chuckled too, hiding his mouth with his small hands. “This reminds me of a story Mama tells me, about the sun god and the messenger of the gods.”

Apollo froze. The boy’s interest shifted back to the lyre, while Apollo tried to process the millions of questions racing through his mind. His mother told him stories? Apollo was about to ask more when the boy looked up and spoke in his soft, melodic voice. “If you don’t mind… can you,” the boy paused, choosing his words carefully, “can you teach me how to play it? The melody you played was beautiful.”

Apollo, still dumbfounded, watched the boy. “I think I figured out how to make it, but I want to play it for Mama. She seems sad lately, and she loves melodies so much. She sings me lullabies, but I don’t know any to sing for her. So maybe, maybe I can play her something nice that makes her smile.”

Questions swirled around Apollo’s mind. How could a child so young speak with such confidence and wisdom? But the most pressing question came to his lips. “Where is your mother?”

The boy, still focused on the lyre, answered, “On an island.”

“Where is the island?” Apollo asked.

The boy smiled as if Apollo had asked something silly, his smile bright and peaceful. “In the sea,” he said, then paused. “But Mama says the sea is dangerous.”

Apollo looked at the boy, confused. The boy’s answers seemed to reveal everything and nothing at the same time. Dangerous sea? He couldn’t be Percy’s son. Apollo's shoulders slumped. He couldn’t be Percy’s son. Perhaps his mind was creating illusions, offering a glimpse of a future he could never have, mixing him and Percy together to create the child Apollo had always dreamed Percy would carry.

Apollo looked into the boy’s eyes—Percy’s eyes—deciding that maybe, just maybe, he could live this dream for as long as it lasted. For as long as this dream allows him, he wants to imagine that this, indeed, is the child he created with his love. He held the boy’s hand, guiding him on where to place his fingers on the lyre. “Here, let me teach you” he said softly, positioning the small fingers with gentle precision on the lyre’s strings.

The boy was, in fact, the eighth wonder of the world, Apollo thought, as he looked at the young boy whose golden locks glowed in the sunlight.

Once—that was all the instruction the boy needed to create the most beautiful symphony Apollo had ever heard. The boy’s fingers danced over the strings with an innate skill, plucking and strumming as if he had been born for this. The melody flowed seamlessly, each note a shimmering thread weaving through the air, enchanting everything around them.

Apollo smiled fondly at the boy, who was also in amazement, his radiant smile outshining even the sun. The sea sparkled with the boy’s joy, and the sun, feeling almost humbled, began to set beyond the horizon, casting a golden portrait over the world.

Suddenly, the boy stopped and carefully extended the lyre back to Apollo. “I have to wake up now. Mama will wake up soon, and I can’t let her do things alone.”

Apollo’s brows knotted in confusion. “Where are we now?”

The boy smiled brightly. “We are dreaming, of course.”

Apollo took the lyre, looking at it before turning back to the boy. “You can have it.”

The young boy shook his head, making his golden locks jiggle. “It is a gift from your brother. It is precious.” He smiled, a smile that warmed Apollo’s soul, his beautiful sea-green eyes glowing with kindness. Apollo didn't want to wake up. He just wanted to see Percy’s eyes a little longer. Even if it was a hallucination, he wanted to remember those eyes longer.

The boy smiled at Apollo as he began to turn his head. “Thank you for helping me make Mama happy. Next time, when we meet, I’ll try to teach you something too.” And with that, the boy started walking away, slowly dissolving into the dream's fabric.

It didn't take long for Apollo to lose consciousness of the dream. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in his bed on Olympus, the morning light casting a gentle glow through his window.

Apollo sat on his bed, his chamber unchanged, Olympus glowing just as it always had. But his heart was heavy with a sorrow that even the gods would struggle to bear.

A sad smile graced Apollo’s lips—a smile that held an ocean of pain, a pain too deep for mortals to fathom. The Fates had always been cruel to him, but now even his own mind seemed to conspire in their cruelty, conjuring hallucinations to torment him.

A young boy, the eighth wonder of the world—a boy he could have had if Percy were still with him. If only she were here, somewhere beside him. He was certain she would have adored this boy, cherished him with all her heart. But he was not real.. And his Percy was not here.

Apollo rubbed his eyes, longing to wake up, to return to his duties, to mourn a girl whose disappearance remained a haunting mystery. And to mourn an imaginary son, whom he was certain he would never see again.

—————————

Gaea’s Island

Percy was puzzled by her son’s urgency that morning. After helping her with his brothers, he dashed outside, claiming to have something important to attend to.

She didn’t pry too much into Milo’s affairs, trusting that whatever he was up to, he knew how to avoid trouble, unlike her eldest, Hector. As long as it was Milo, she assured herself, he would be fine.

But Milo had been unusually preoccupied for days now. Whenever Percy found him, he would hastily hide something behind his back, claiming it was important. Percy didn’t dwell on it, assuming it was a surprise he didn’t want her to see. She smiled at the thought.

Then, she heard it—a beautiful melody that froze her in place. For a moment, she thought it was a dream, a hallucination conjured by her own longing. an image of a man with the most beautiful sky-blue eyes, creating serene melodies for her suddenly occupied her mind.. But the sound of footsteps snapped her back to reality. She followed the sound, Hector and Luke trailing behind her, until she suddenly stopped.

On the grass sat a young boy with golden locks, his sea-green eyes shining with joy as he looked up at her. Her Milo. In his hands, a wooden instrument created the most enchanting melody she had ever heard since she arrived to this island

It didn’t take long for Percy to realize what her son had made. Her heart swelled with oceans of emotions, pain, sorrow, pride and love as she beheld her precious Milo, crafting a lyre with his own small hands.

Percy approached Milo, her heart overflowing with a mixture of confusion and love. A single tear traced its way down her cheek as Hector and Luke stood nearby, mesmerized by the beautiful sound emanating from Milo's creation.

Milo looked up at her with a bright smile, but confusion clouded his features as he furrowed his brows. “You don’t like it, Mama? I made it for you.”

Without hesitation, Percy rushed forward, enveloping Milo in a tight embrace, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I love it… I love it so much.”

“Then why are you crying?” Milo asked, puzzled.

“They're tears of happiness, my love,” Percy whispered, her voice choked with emotion. Tears of happiness—tears of memories, pain, and pride. Tears of many things.

Milo pulled away, showing Percy the delicate wooden instrument he had crafted. “Here, let me show you more,” he said eagerly, his fingers deftly plucking at the strings.

As Milo played, Percy couldn’t help but notice how he resembled his father in that moment. Not a mere version, like Luke, but a reflection—a radiant embodiment of his father's spirit.

Then it struck her—how did Milo know about the lyre? It was Hermes who created it, nd given it to Apollo, later becoming Apollo's symbol. How could Milo know exactly what a lyre looked like? She had always believed that their father lived on in their souls, but she never imagined it would manifest in such a tangible way.

Puzzled, Percy looked at her son. “How did you learn to make this?”

Milo beamed at her, his eyes sparkling with the wisdom of the universe. “In my dream, of course, Mama.”

The answer did little to quell Percy’s bewilderment. She watched as her son proudly displayed his creation, insisting that she should smile because he had made it for her happiness. He even taught his brothers how to hold it so they could all bring joy to their mother.

She watched them take turns playing, each displaying a pure talent they hadn’t known they possessed

Her Milo, her precious children, and her precious lost love…

A few days later, the lyre disappeared from the island, as if it had never existed before.

#wthb fic #wthb Apollo #wthb percy #wthb Milo #perpollo #Bahia writing

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