#Sols heart will explode maybe

[mellsfern]

New bae dropped. Riley the girl who has nothing up there but hunger and surprisingly strong for her looks.

I blame @fantasia-kitt for my actions since I will be making SolxRiley stuff until I get tired or my computer explodes.

Pink pretty girl meets delulu goth boy and falls in love bc yes. Headcannons incoming soon ^^

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝜗𝜚 𝒽𝓎𝓊𝑔𝑜

We’re back again with the “type of boyfriend” headcanons—this time for the best baby boy in TKATB. That’s right, it’s finally Hyugo’s turn. People have been asking for him (loudly), and since there’s barely any content on this chaotic rooftop menace, I figured... fine. It’s time.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

Also, I was only gone for like two weeks and suddenly y’all hit me with 1K followers—??? Why?? T-T

I’m not even a consistent writer, I just be vanishing like a ghost with commitment issues. But seriously, thank you. I’ll try to get to your requests after finals, once my brain cells recover from the academic warfare.

Anyway, writing him? Pain. He’s sweet, playful, has beef with the college, possibly a knife in his back pocket 24/7, and still manages to be boyfriend-coded. Balancing all that? Not easy—especially studying for finals kicking me in the face. But even while dying academically, I think I’ve got a solid grasp on him now.

Honestly? I might just become the main Hyugo writer. 

Someone has to. Let’s get into it.

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

Let’s be clear—Hyugo was the one catching feelings first.

The boy was already gone for you long before you realized what was happening. In the game, it’s mentioned he has a “certain crush,” and the way he stares a little too long or makes offhand comments about how you “remind him of someone”?

Yeah. That someone is you.

He doesn’t confess right away, though. That’s not his style. Instead, he lingers around you more often, steals your pen to “borrow it” even though he never returns it, pulls you into weird places like the rooftop “just because,” and randomly brings up your name in conversations with Sol—pretending it’s no big deal. (Spoiler: it is.)

✑ Unpredictable Lover (But With Bite)

Hyugo doesn’t ease into love. He trips, stumbles, and full-body slams into it like a cartoon character hitting a wall—and then laughs about it while nursing emotional whiplash. One minute you’re just the guy who shares notes or laughs at his dumb trivia. 

The next? He’s looking at you like you invented gravity.

When the MC reminded him of his old crush? That was it. Game over. His brain short-circuited and fully convinced itself you were his soulmate. Not in a clingy way (okay, maybe a little clingy), but in that wide-eyed, heart-hammering, "Oh, you're real? You're mine?" kind of way.

It’s not even subtle. If Sol’s the type to bottle everything up until it explodes, Hyugo’s just… holding the bottle upside down, watching it pour, and asking if you want a sip. He’ll tell you he likes you in the most offhand, dramatic, heart-melting ways—laughing as if it’s no big deal while simultaneously dying inside.

“I like you too much. It’s annoying.” cue deflection into food talk like he didn’t just ruin your emotional stability for the week

He’s drawn to people who get him—the weird parts, the unpredictable schedule, the random ass facts at 3 a.m., the way he vanishes and reappears with rare cassettes or bags of stolen berries like a chaotic little cryptid boyfriend. People who don’t try to "fix" him, but instead hand him a spoon and ask to share dessert.

He doesn’t do patterns. Doesn’t do expectations. What he does do is follow his gut, sprint into romantic territory like it’s a speedrun, and somehow still make you feel like the center of the universe—his odd little galaxy.

One day he’s got your favorite fruity snack in hand, saying, “Skip class with me. I found a crime documentary we can heckle together.” The next? He’s ghosted for two days. No texts. No calls. Reappears like nothing happened, dumps a bag of cassette tapes in your lap, and mutters, “They sounded like you. Messy but good.”

His version of sweet nothings?

“If I threatened the dean, do you think I’d get expelled or promoted?”

What.

Anyway, Hyugo’s idea of a confession is the kind of thing that makes you pause for a full ten seconds wondering if he just insulted you or proposed.

Like the time he sauntered over to you with a slice of cake in a paper napkin, tossed it on your desk, and casually said:

“I got this cake the other day and it reminded me of you. It was horrible—like, truly disgusting—but really pretty to look at.”

And then he smiled.

Not even sheepishly. Just smug. Like he thought he was being romantic.

And somehow? It kind of was.

Because beneath the trolling and chaotic delivery, there’s a genuine, rare honesty. That cake? It was real. He hated it—but he thought about you. He bought it thinking about you. He shared it, thinking that even if it sucked, he wanted you to be part of the joke, part of the moment. And that’s what Hyugo does. He doesn’t wrap his feelings in a bow—he throws them at you like a dodgeball and laughs when you flinch.

But that’s the thing: Hyugo’s love isn’t elegant. It’s not scheduled. It’s messy, spontaneous, way-too-loud, and utterly sincere. One day he’s skipping class to show you a crime documentary he downloaded illegally off a sketchy website, and the next, he’s vanished for 48 hours without a word. Then he returns like nothing happened, hands you a crumpled bag of sweets and pretty flowers and mutters:

“I don’t know. These felt like you.”

He doesn’t believe in doing things the “right” way. He believes in feeling. And if being with you makes his heart do that hiccup thing in his chest? He’s going to chase that.

His affection isn’t routine—it’s a riot. He’ll flirt by arguing with you about fictional crimes. He’ll compliment you by comparing you to garbage-eating birds. He’ll confess his feelings mid-snack, while chewing.

“I like you too much, it’s annoying. Can you pass the chips?”

And honestly? It’s kind of perfect.

Because Hyugo doesn’t do romance the normal way—he does it his way. Unhinged. Blunt. Endearing in the most unpredictable fashion.

If you can survive the whiplash of dating someone who gifts you detective movie posters, late-night existential rants, and a stolen plush frog from the student store—He’s already yours.

Sidenote, now thinking about—Let’s just say… if Sol finds out Hyugo has feelings for the MC too?

Sol is the type to internalize every emotion until it calcifies. He doesn’t say he’s upset—he just stiffens around you, goes quiet, disappears from hangouts, and starts writing darker poetry. But make no mistake: he sees everything. And Hyugo? He’s not subtle. Not even a little.

Hyugo would catch on instantly. He’d tease Sol. Not maliciously—more like poking a sleeping wolf with a stick to see if it barks.

“You’re awfully quiet, Sol. Something bothering you?”

leans a little too close to MC

“Or someone?”

And maybe he laughs. Maybe he makes a show of being the light-hearted one. But behind all that noise is a sharp, protective loyalty—Hyugo’s jokes are weapons, and he’ll use them to keep the people he cares about close.

He might pretend to flirt just to mess with Sol.

But when it comes to you? He’s serious. Hyugo doesn’t play around with the things that make his heartbeat go crooked.

If you’re the one who makes him feel free—if you accept all his chaos without trying to change him—he’ll give you everything. The good, the bad, the oddly sweet bird-themed analogies. The ugly truths he doesn’t tell anyone else.

Because once Hyugo falls?

He falls all the way. No brakes. No caution tape. No escape plan.

Just you, and a heart too loud to ignore.

✑ Smart but Soft (and a lil scary)

Hyugo’s the type who confuses people on purpose. He’s top of the class one day, doesn’t show up the next. Cracks the most complicated equation in five minutes, then sticks googly eyes on the school vending machine and blames it on aliens.

Some say he’s a delinquent. Some say he’s a genius. All anyone really knows is that Hyugo always gets things done. He’s reliable.

Strangely so. You call him at 3AM with a crisis? He shows up.

You’re in tears over nothing? He distracts you with candy and half a conspiracy theory. He’s not ashamed of affection either—not even a little. 

Hyugo doesn’t care who’s watching when he grabs your hand in the hallway, when he hugs you from behind, or when he loudly calls you embarrassing pet names in front of Sol, or pretty much anyone.

Yeah. He's that guy.

But there’s something… off about him too.

Not in a bad way. Just—off. Like, he’s always smiling. Always laughing. But sometimes you catch that flicker in his eyes that’s just a bit too sharp. Sometimes his grin feels like it’s hiding something sharp behind it. Something practiced. Like he's worn that mask for years and just got good at making it look natural.

And the truth is? You’ve seen things.

Once, after class, you were heading toward the train station shortcut—an alleyway behind the older school buildings. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the voice that echoed off the brick stopped you cold. It was rough. Deep. Too serious. Too cold. Not Hyugo’s voice.

“If I catch you touching her again, I’ll carve out your throat and make you apologize with your last breath. Say ‘thank you’ for the warning.”

And then you saw him.

Hyugo. Your Hyugo.

Back pressed to some guy’s chest, hand gripping his jaw like he’d snap it clean. Not smiling. Not even blinking. Calm in a way that felt unnatural. There was a flick-knife in his hand. The same one he later used to peel an apple while lying on your floor like it never happened.

And what did you do? Nothing. You minded your business.

Like, what were you supposed to say? “Hey, babe, nice threats today! Who was the guy? Should I be worried?” Because how do you ask someone if they’re dangerous when they’re laying in your lap, pressing absentminded kisses to the inside of your wrist? When he’s curled up beside you with all his warmth and nicknames and that childish excitement in his voice whenever he finds a weird bug or sees a raccoon?

How do you bring it up when he's sweet?

When he traces your knuckles with the same fingers that curled around a knife so naturally. When he leans into your neck and mumbles, “You smell like strawberries,” like it’s a confession.

When he tells you, “Don’t ever leave me, okay?” in a tone too soft to be anything but sincere. That duality is what makes Hyugo dangerous. And irresistible.

He’s smart. Very smart. Too smart, maybe.

But beneath that chaotic, happiness-bomb energy, there’s a darkness he doesn't talk about. A history he won’t explain. All you get are glimmers—warnings painted in pretty smiles and sugar-sweet kisses. And maybe he isn’t an assassin. Maybe he just knows how to handle himself. Maybe he is too cute for that sort of thing. ...Right? Or maybe the same hands that cup your cheeks gently could, without hesitation, end someone who hurt you.

And maybe—just maybe—that’s why you feel safest right next to him.

✑ Certified Cling Wrap™

Hyugo’s a walking paradox.

He’s an extrovert, yeah. The guy who can light up a room just by showing up, who always has something weirdly fascinating to say ("Did you know slugs have four noses?"). The type who remembers everyone’s birthday, even if he doesn’t show up to class half the time. He’s fun. Loud. Chaotic.

But when it comes down to it?

There’s nowhere he’d rather be than with you.

He’d trade a party for your couch in a heartbeat. Scratch that—he wouldn’t even consider the party if you were available. You could literally say, “I’m thinking of watching a movie tonight,” and he’d be like:

“Say less. I’m bringing snacks.”

He just wants to exist in your space. Quiet or loud, chaotic or cozy, rainy or sunlit—if you’re in it, that’s where Hyugo wants to be. And when he’s there? Prepare to lose all personal space rights.

Hyugo is Certified Cling Wrap™

Affectionate in the most relentless, devoted way. He’s the kind of guy who:

Will sit on the floor beside you just so he can lean his head against your thigh while you're working.

Wraps his arms around your waist from behind while you’re cooking, swaying with you and humming some dumb made-up song about your hair smelling good.

Steals your hoodies even though he already has a closet full of his own (“Yours smell like comfort and bad decisions.”).

Sleeps like a cat in a sunbeam—curled up on you, gripping your shirt with a soft little snore in your ear.

He doesn’t care if your hair’s a mess, or if you’ve said three words all day. To him, that’s the dream. A quiet afternoon, curled up together under a blanket, him reading some wild conspiracy thread aloud like it’s bedtime poetry, your legs tangled under the coffee table—that’s his definition of paradise.

And it’s not just physical closeness.

It’s emotional, too. Hyugo pays attention.

He notices when your laugh doesn’t sound real. When your “I’m fine” isn’t. When you’re holding back tears or trying to carry more than you should. And in his own strange, lovable way, he makes it better. Sometimes it’s through chaos—dragging you out of bed at 2AM for gas station candy and an illegal rooftop view of the cityline. Maybeee say for a bit to sun rise.

Sometimes it’s through comfort—sneaking in your favorite drink with a dumb note taped to it (“Drink this or perish.”).

And sometimes, it’s just… silence.

Him resting beside you, letting his fingers run lazy circles on your arm while you process whatever’s weighing you down. Not asking for anything. Just being there.

Hyugo’s the guy who’ll whisper “I love you” into your hair when he thinks you’re asleep, just to be safe. Who calls you nicknames like he’s been doing it his whole life—“bug,” “babyface,” “sweet disaster,” depending on the mood.

Who holds your hand like it grounds him.

And maybe he’s a little too clingy. Maybe he gets pouty when you’re not around. Maybe he whines into your voicemail if you ignore his texts for too long (“I’ve withered like an unloved plant. You better come water me or I’m dying dramatically.”).

But that clinginess? It’s love. Undeniable. Raw. Real. Because Hyugo doesn’t just want to be with you. He wants to build with you. A life. A routine. A weird little bubble of shared chaos and safety and inside jokes that no one else understands.

You’re his home. Not the apartment, not the school rooftop, not the alleyways where he sometimes does questionable things.

You.

And he’ll remind you in a hundred little ways, every single day.

✑ The Ass Silly Flirt

Hyugo flirts like it’s a full-time job and he's trying to get promoted.

He’s not smooth about it either—he’s annoying. Like, he’ll text you “thinking of you 😘” and then immediately follow it up with a picture of a traffic cone wearing a wig with the caption: “This u?”

And the worst part? You laugh or offended. Every time.

He texts you non-stop, like you're both in some private group chat that never shuts up. No context. No warning. Just raw, unfiltered Hyugo brain static 24/7:

“Do you think ghosts get boners?”

“Be honest would I survive if I just ate bubblegum and vibes for a week.”

“I saw a pigeon with a limp today and now I’m emotionally compromised.”

Mid-class, 3AM, during a fire drill—he does not care. You’re getting these texts whether you're ready or not.

And the memes? OH, THE MEMES.

Hyugo’s meme game is so strong it’s criminal. He’s got folders. Archives. A whole reaction gif arsenal like he’s been preparing for emotional warfare. He sends one for every situation, no matter how inappropriate.

You text him “I’m sad.”

He sends a gif of SpongeBob playing the world’s smallest violin and follows it up with “come cuddle or perish, dramatic ass.”

It’s his love language.

He doesn’t know how to say “I care about you deeply” like a normal person—he just sends you 38 TikToks in a row and expects you to watch them all immediately and react to each one like you’re being graded.

Now. Let’s talk about The Streak™.

Y’all have had a TikTok streak going for months. At this point, it’s longer than some people’s relationships. It is sacred. And if you break it? Hyugo will take it personally. You think he’s kidding? No. This man will hit you with voice notes that sound like break-up letters. 

“Hey. So. I noticed we haven’t exchanged any TikToks in the last… 14 hours. Are you okay? Are we okay? Just let me know if you hate me now. It’s fine. I’ll just go stare out a rainy window like a Victorian widow.” You better send something—anything—before he starts live-posting his descent into madness.

Speaking of voice notes?

He loves those. You open your phone and there’s just a five-minute recording of him rambling while pacing his room like a raccoon hopped up on sugar.

“Okay so listen—I saw this guy trip on the sidewalk and somehow launch his phone into a trash can, and I SWEAR it was cinematic. Like, Academy Award level physics. Anyway I thought of you. Wanna get dinner?”

Or sometimes it’s just him humming some random song he heard in the background of a YouTube ad and begging:

“Can you find this song? Please. I’m in shambles. I don’t have Shazam and my dignity won’t survive me asking a stranger.” And you do find it. Because you love him. And because you’ve accepted that being in love with Hyugo means acting as his personal Google assistant and meme judge.

Hyugo doesn’t flirt to impress. He flirts to torment. To tease.

To infect your brain like a catchy song and live there rent-free until you’re giggling like an idiot alone in your room just because he sent you a picture of a cat with bad bangs and said, “our child if we never discipline them.”

He’s a menace. A menace with heart eyes and a clingy streak. 

He’s the kind of guy who’d write “I love you” on a bathroom mirror with lip balm and then blame it on ghosts. The type who’d kiss you mid-sentence just to watch you stutter. Who’d steal your charger but bring you snacks to “make up for it” and then never give the charger back.

In short: He’s loud. Annoying. Borderline illegal levels of clingy.

But he’s yours. And that’s kinda the best part.

✑ Tailored to You

— Words of Affirmation?

Hyugo speaks your praises like he’s reciting scripture from a holy book only he knows how to read. 

It’s constant. Casual. Deadpan-delivered and terrifyingly sincere.

You’ll be mid-rant about your day and he’ll just go:

“You're the smartest person I know, and I hang out with Sol. That man knows Latin and still doesn’t know how to say sorry. Meanwhile, you? You breathe and my brain goes ‘yeah, this is the one.’”

Sometimes he insults you, sure, but in that “I’m obsessed with you but emotionally stunted” way.

“You make me want to be a better man. Unfortunately, I’m lazy and emotionally unhinged, so you’re stuck with this version of me. Congrats.”

And don’t even think about crying in front of him. He’ll switch from “hey sexy” to “you are the most brilliant, beautiful, badass person I’ve ever met” so fast it’ll give you emotional whiplash.

— Acts of Service?

Hyugo would absolutely walk into a war zone with nothing but your to-do list and a Monster energy drink and say, “Don't worry babe, I got it.”

He’ll do your homework shockingly he’s smart asf while you nap, call customer service on your behalf (“Hi yes, my partner’s about to commit murder over a billing error, please help”), and will not let you carry your own bag if he’s around.

Did your phone die? Suddenly, his is at 92% and in your hands.

Craving something? It’s on your bed before you even finish the sentence.

Exhausted? He’s already drawing you a bath and setting a snack tray like he’s your overworked but loyal butler who’s also in love with you.

He doesn’t even act like it’s a big deal. He just shrugs and says:

“If you’re good to me, I gotta be good back. That’s the rule.”

— Receiving Gifts?

He gives gifts like he’s on a scavenger hunt where the prize is your smile. They’re not always expensive—but they are weirdly specific.

A ring from a claw machine he swears “vibes with your aura.”

A charm bracelet/ring/necklace with tiny objects representing inside jokes only the two of you understand.

An old book with your favorite quote already highlighted, because he “happened to see it and thought of you.”

A dumb little vending machine toy he’s convinced is your new emotional support trinket. And the wrapping? Forget it. He’ll give it to you in a paper towel and say,

“Presentation is for cowards. Love is raw and weird. Take it.”

— Quality Time?

This man thrives on being around you.

Not even doing anything, just existing in your orbit. He’ll lay sideways across your bed like a lizard sunbathing while you read. He’ll follow you from room to room like a haunted but affectionate cat. You’re watching a movie? He's not even watching—he’s watching you watch it. “You scrunch your nose when you get invested. It’s cute. I like it. Shut up and let me admire you.”

Wanna nap together? He’s already curled up next to you.

Want to work in silence? He’ll bring snacks and just vibe, occasionally sending you memes while sitting 3 feet away.

Your time? His favorite gift of all time. 

— Physical Touch?

Oh you want space? Too bad, babe.

Hyugo is basically a heated blanket with limbs. 

He’s all over you—shoulder leans, back hugs, thigh squeezes, lap pillows, forehead touches, neck nuzzles. He’s like Velcro with feelings. He has zero shame. “You’re soft and warm and smell like my favorite person, why wouldn’t I be on top of you right now?” And yes, those hands? Again, the same ones that once threatened someone in an alleyway after class?

Those are the ones that cup your face so gently it makes your stomach flip.

That brush your hair behind your ear. That hold your hand even in public, especially in public, with a smug little grin like he’s bragging silently: “Yeah. This is mine.”

In conclusion, Hyugo doesn’t just love you in five languages.

He’s practically multilingual in affection—loud, devoted, and unfiltered. Tailored to you. Perfectly chaotic. Inescapably real.

Want to cry a little about it later? Yeah. Me too.

✑ Tailored to Him

— Words of Affirmation?

Hyugo thrives on your praise like it’s oxygen laced with espresso.

Tell him he’s smart? He’ll preen. Tell him he’s handsome? He’ll smirk and pull you into a kiss so sweet it tastes like a dare. But whisper to him, all soft and serious, “I’m proud of you” or “You make me feel safe” and he short circuits. Full-body blush. Ears red. Eyes everywhere but on you.

He might laugh it off, say something dumb like,

“Babe, stop it, I’ll fall harder and it’s already embarrassing out here…”

But he replays your words over and over in his head. He craves your approval like it’s sacred. He doesn’t want empty compliments—he wants real ones, the ones you mean. The ones that come out when you think he’s not listening, but he always is. He remembers your voice in detail. 

If you say something sweet in the morning, expect him to bring it up casually three days later like it didn’t melt his heart into syrup.

— Physical Touch? 

Let’s not play.

He’s got the soft hands, the smug smirk, the “come here and sit in my lap while I tell you about this video game I saw played last night” voice. But under that cuddly, somewhat short golden retriever exterior is a problem in the best way.

He’ll touch you constantly—absently tugging your fingers, nosing at your neck, kissing your knuckles like some old-timey heartthrob who listens to rap music and fights demons on weekends. Bro what?

But when he wants you? Oh, he wants you.

He leans in close when he talks, voice dropping an octave, and his fingers splay against your hip like he knows what he’s doing. 

When it’s just the two of you, he goes quiet. Focused. His usual chaotic flirty energy simmers down into this heated, steady burn. And God help you if you wear something that shows your skin—because suddenly he’s behind you, dragging his fingertips along your arms, whispering in your ear with that teasing-laced purr like:

“You really gonna look like that around me and act innocent? That’s wild.”

He’s cute. But he’s also lowkey hot in that "I’d ruin you with love and cheek kisses and then also maybe leave scratch marks you didn’t know you liked" kind of way.

— Quality Time?

Hyugo’s a social creature, yeah—but you? You’re home.

He could be surrounded by people, laughing at memes, bouncing from conversation to conversation—but the moment you walk in, he shifts. Eyes locked. Energy redirected. Like you’re his true north in a galaxy of distractions.

He doesn't need an occasion. Doesn’t need a plan.

He’s the kind of guy who shows up at your door with snacks, a blanket, and zero expectations other than being near you.

Spending time with you recharges him. Whether it's lying in bed watching weird documentaries, going on midnight walks, or sitting on rooftops eating vending machine junk food—if it’s with you? 

It’s worth it.

He memorizes your routines, your reactions, your sleepy habits. He makes mental notes like:

“They like their tea a little sweeter at night.”

“They squint when reading—they need a lamp, I’ll buy one.”

“They hum that one song while brushing their teeth—learn that on guitar maybe?”

Time isn’t just time with Hyugo. It’s devotion made casual. It’s “I choose you” in every second. It’s you matter most, no matter what else I could be doing.

So yeah. Hyugo’s a mess. But he’s your mess.

He’s a walking contradiction of softness and chaos, affection and absurdity. He loves in ways that feel like warm thunderstorms—loud, unexpected, but still soothing if you know how to listen. And when he loves you, he tailors it perfectly.

Words that lift you up. Touches that say "stay." Time that says “you’re all I need.”

He’s all in. And he’ll make damn sure you feel it.

✑ Joystick Jerk 

Oh, Hyugo’s a gamer gamer.

Not some flashy streamer, not a try-hard clout chaser—no face cam, no Twitch, no mic unless it’s Discord with you or the inner circle. He doesn’t stream, and when you asked why, he just shrugged and said something cryptic like:

“Gotta keep some parts of me hidden, y’know? Too many eyes makes the game less fun.”

Which like… okay. Cool. Normal people say that.

Totally not suspicious. Definitely not assassin-coded behavior. Definitely didn’t say that while sharpening a pocketknife and humming anime opening themes under his breath.

But listen, the man’s cracked at every game you throw at him. FPS? Headshots for days. Fighting games? You blink, you lose. Racing? Don’t even try it. Even rhythm games? He gets full combos and doesn’t even break a sweat. He’s got the focus of someone who’s either a pro… or someone who’s trained their hand-eye coordination to kill a man in silence.

And worst of all? He always wants to play with you. 

And when I say always, I mean always.

“Babe, let’s do co-op, I’ll carry you.”

“Play a round with me? C’mon, I’ll give you a kiss every time you die.”

“If I win, you have to say I’m hot. If you win… okay that’s never gonna happen, but I’ll still say you’re hot.” It’s cute at first. Until you realize he never loses. Not unless he lets you win.

And yes—you noticed.

He tries to act slick about it. Pretends he “accidentally” missed that final hit or “slipped” during the last lap. But the smug look on his face gives it away every damn time.

You: “You let me win, didn’t you.”

Hyugo, grinning: “What? No way. You’re just getting better. Natural talent. Gamer instincts. Maybe I’m rubbing off on you—”

You: “I’m going to delete your save file.”

Hyugo: “Wait—WAIT I’M SORRY—”

There was a time you swore off gaming with him completely. “Sore loser? Absolutely. Certified D1 crash-out? No shame.” But lately, he’s been playing way too much.

Like… you come over and he barely looks up from his screen. Just tosses a lazy “hey babe” and keeps mashing buttons like his life depends on it. Sometimes he forgets to eat. Sometimes he forgets you’re in the room.

So what do you do? Be normal? Communicate?

Nah. You’re evil.

Beautifully, diabolically evil.

Let’s say one day, Hyugo’s deep into a match. He’s playing some online team shooter with Sol, both of them barking callouts like seasoned war generals. His voice smooth and laser-focused as he barks commands into his mic. The screen flashes with rapid gunfire, his fingers a blur over the keyboard. He’s locked in, absolutely locked in—with that deadly kind of concentration that makes you want to ruin it.

So naturally, you do.

You drop to your knees without a word and slip under his desk, the soft whir of his PC fans the only warning he gets.

At first, he doesn’t notice. At first.

Your fingers trail up his calf, slow and innocent.

Then not so innocent. You press your palms to his thighs, feel the twitch under your hands. And when you start fiddling with the buttons of his pants, he pauses—just for a second.

His voice stutters.

“Y—yeah, flank left—mnn—flank, I meant flank! Just—move, damn it!”

Sol’s voice crackles through the headset, confused: “Yo, you good?”

Hyugo clears his throat with the subtlety of a panicked cat. “Yup. Peachy. Total—nghh—focus.”

You don’t stop. If anything, you get bolder—running your nails along the seam, watching him shift in his seat, those long fingers faltering for just a beat. You don’t even need to look up to know his jaw is clenched, teeth gritted in pure restraint. You can hear it in his breath. Shaky. A little desperate.

Then, finally, a low, bitten-off sound escapes him—a moan. Not loud. But real. Raw. The kind of sound you feel low in your stomach.

“Fuck—” And still? Still he wins the match. Freak of nature. You almost applaud. “GGs, I’m out,” Hyugo mutters into the mic, voice hoarse. “Emergency. Real life critical hit.”

Click. Call ends. Silence.

Before you can even shift, he’s got one arm under your shoulders, dragging you out and straight into his lap. The headset’s tossed somewhere across the desk. The game’s forgotten. All his focus now? On you.

Those baby blue eyes? Sharp. Wicked. Burning.

“You wanna play dirty now?” he breathes, voice low, chest heaving. “You think you can tease me while I play the game with Sol and just walk away?” His hand slides up your thigh, firm and slow.

“Nah, sweetheart. You started this.”

And Hyugo?

Oh, he never leaves a game unfinished.

✑ Sugar, Spice, and Chaos

For someone who lives on the edge of unhinged and adorable, it’s no surprise Hyugo is a menace in the kitchen—but only if it involves sugar. Actual meals? Nah. He either burns them, forgets them on the stove, or looks at savory ingredients like they personally offended him. 

But sweets? Baking? That’s his love language.

He’ll never say it, but there’s something almost calming about it—the measuring, the mixing, the slow transformation of flour and butter into something warm and golden. He’s got a soft spot for berry shortcake, especially ones layered with cream and strawberries. It’s nostalgic, he once said. You don’t press further, but the way he lights up when he tastes it? 

Tells you all you need to know.

So one weekend, he drags you into the kitchen with that signature grin, sleeves rolled up, apron tied (yes, it says “kiss the baker,” yes he wore it on purpose) and says: “Today, we conquer the cake.”

You start with the cake base—he insists on doing the measuring himself, swearing he has “baker’s intuition.” You don’t argue, even when you notice him eyeballing the flour instead of using the cup.

The moment the batter’s mixed, he tastes it with a spoon like it’s a gourmet meal. Then gives you a spoonful too. 

“Here. For quality control.” It’s… actually amazing.

While it bakes, he turns the kitchen into a war zone of whipped cream, sugar, and cut strawberries. He tries to pipe roses onto parchment and ends up with something that looks suspiciously like a slug.

“Abstract art,” he claims. “Put it in a museum.”

You laugh. He grins wider.

Then comes the fun part—assembling. You’re trying to do it neatly, but Hyugo? He starts feeding you strawberries like some dramatic prince and smearing whipped cream on your nose when you’re not looking.

“Look at you,” he smirks, “cuter than the cake.”

You chase him around the kitchen with a spatula in revenge. It ends in a tie. And a kiss. (With a side of whipped cream.)

Finally, the shortcake’s done—messy, chaotic, but somehow still perfect. Just like him.

The kitchen’s a battlefield of bowls, whipped cream smears, and flour footprints. You’re both a little sticky, a little out of breath from laughing too hard, and the oven’s still faintly warm behind you. Hyugo licks a smudge of berry syrup off his thumb with the same lazy grin that always gets him his way.

You’re sitting on the counter, legs swinging, and he’s nestled between them, sharing forkfuls of cake straight from the dish. His eyes flicker up every time you chew, like he’s not watching the dessert but you enjoying it.

He hums low after a bite, leaning against your shoulder. “I’d burn water for dinner, but damn if I won’t make you the best dessert of your life.”

You snort, licking cream from the side of your lip.

“Cocky much?”

“Confident,” he says, swiping a bit of whipped cream with his finger and tapping it onto the tip of your nose. “But also a little hungry still…”

You tilted your head, lost. “For the cake?”

“Sure,” he smirks, “let’s go with that.”

He kisses it off your nose—soft and teasing. Then off your cheek. Your jaw. The corner of your mouth. Each one slower than the last. Until it’s not about the cake anymore.

You reach for the bowl of whipped cream—because why not?—and dip your fingers in it. His eyes track you like prey, curious and wide as you smear a little on the side of your neck. “Oops,” you whisper, “missed a spot.”

Hyugo freezes. Then laughs, soft and dangerous. “Oh, you really wanna start something, huh?”

The next moment is a blur—his hands are on your thighs, spreading them wider around him as he presses closer. His lips find the cream on your neck and he bites—playful at first, then deeper. Your breath catches. That baby blue gaze turns sharp, electric with mischief.

He kisses down your throat, slow and purposeful, tongue chasing the sugar and teeth chasing your pulse. You’re not even sure how the bowl got knocked over, but it doesn’t matter. The spoon clatters to the floor. Your back arches into him.

���Tastes good,” he mutters against your skin, “but you’re sweeter.”

His hands slide up under your shirt, warm and insistent. The cake is long forgotten now, half-eaten and melting beside you. His mouth is busy elsewhere—your collarbone, your shoulder, the curve where your neck meets your jaw. He’s painting you with sugar and heat, and licking every trace away.

You’re not sure who pulls who in first for the kiss, but it’s messy and desperate and just the right amount of wrong. And when he pulls back, panting, pupils blown wide?

“Kitchen’s already trashed,” he grins, voice rough, “might as well finish the job.”

Let’s just say the next round doesn’t involve frosting—but it’s still very much dessert.

✑ Partners in Cosplay (and Crime)

You knew Hyugo liked crime flicks and video games—but this? This was a full-blown obsession.

He’s not just a fan. He’s a geek. Deep in the lore, the trivia, the obscure theories that only like four people on the internet care about—and he’s friends with all four. He’s the kind of guy who can quote entire movie scenes, word for word, with the dramatic voice shifts and everything. One time he paused a shootout scene just to explain the gun model they used and how it’s “totally unrealistic, but looks so fucking cool.” His eyes literally sparkled.

So when convention weekend rolls around? Oh, he’s already packed.

Costume? Secured. Prop weapon? Custom-made.

And when he asks you to go with him? He doesn’t even care who you dress up as—just that you’re there. His partner in crime. Literally.

You pick a character that kinda matches his—maybe one from his favorite show, or the one you think would annoy his the most. Either way, when you step out in your outfit, Hyugo malfunctions. Full on, mouth open, hand to chest, “I think I just fell in love again” levels of dramatic.

You walk the con floor hand-in-hand, him constantly pulling you over to booths like a kid with too much sugar and no parental supervision. 

He buys crime-themed keychains, limited edition figures, posters with ridiculous quotes, and sketches from artist alley like his life depends on it. He compliments cosplayers like a pro—“Damn, that’s clean! Bro, how’d you make the holster?”—and flirts with you every chance he gets. “You look way too good in that outfit. You trying to kill me or get me arrested?”

By the time you get to the hotel, his and yours arms are full of merch bags, his wallet’s empty, and his energy is still sky high.

You barely make it through the door before he’s tossing his stuff onto the couch and pulling you onto the bed with him. 

Still in cosplay, the both of you. 

“Okay but like… what if our characters actually hooked up? For research purposes.”

You raise a brow. “Research?”

He just smirks and leans in closer, fingers already unbuckling whatever fake tactical vest he’s wearing.

“I’m just saying… we could be committing crimes of passion right now. Or passionately committing crimes. Whichever hits harder.”

Before you can reply, his lips are on yours, hands warm and eager as they slide beneath your costume, tugging fabric aside and leaving goosebumps in his wake. He kisses like he’s still acting in character—cocky, sharp, teasing—but with that unmistakable Hyugo sweetness that always slips through.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he whispers between kisses, “real talk.” And when you end up tangled in a mess of half-off cosplay and breathless laughter, his voice is low and rough in your ear:

“Next year? We’re going all out. Couple cosplay. New characters. New roles. New positions—wait, did I say that last one out loud?”

You’re pretty sure he’s still joking… mostly.

✑ He’s Pansexual (lil angst)

Hyugo is pansexual—genuinely and unapologetically so.

He doesn’t care if someone’s masculine, feminine, both, neither, fluid, strange, loud, quiet, or something the world hasn’t learned how to label yet. If he’s drawn to you, it’s because you’re you—your voice, your presence, the way you move through a room, the look in your eyes when you’re focused, angry, glowing, grieving. He falls in love with essence, not gender.

“I don’t give a damn what you are on paper,” he once told you, head resting on your stomach, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “I like what you are to me. And that? That’s something nobody else gets to have.”

He says it so confidently, like it’s not even up for debate. 

Because it isn’t. But love—real love—terrifies him.

Hyugo plays it cool, because he’s always been good at pretending. But when he lets himself really care for someone? It unlocks this whole hidden, trembling part of him that he usually buries beneath bad jokes and gaming trash talk. That part of him that lies awake sometimes, staring at the ceiling, scared out of his goddamn mind that one day the world might take you away from him.

“I don’t… live a quiet life,” he admitted once, when things between you were still new, still fragile. “I got people who know my name and don’t say it fondly. I got enemies. I got… unfinished things. If I ever pull back, disappear for a while… it’s not ‘cause I’m tired of you. It’s ‘cause I’m trying to protect you.”

You hadn’t said anything right away.

Just looked at him—really looked—while he sat still, shoulders tight, like every second of silence chipped away at his confidence. Like he was bracing himself for you to sigh, to shake your head, to say you didn’t sign up for this.

Like he’d seen it happen before.

Because he had.

People have left Hyugo before. Screaming matches or messy, dramatic exits or Just… quietly. Gradually. Like a candle flickering out in a room he hadn’t realized had gone cold.

Some said he was “too much”—too chaotic, too unreachable, too unpredictable. Others didn’t say anything at all. They just disappeared. Let go without warning. Walked out while he was still holding on.

So when he opened up to you, even a little—when he admitted how messy his life was, how much danger it might bring, how scared he was of dragging someone good into his world—it wasn’t just a warning.

It was a test. And he hated that it had to be.

But you didn’t walk away.

And something in him cracked open for you after that. Slowly, cautiously—but it opened. Still, there are moments… quiet, stupid moments where the fear creeps back in. When someone else’s eyes linger on you a little too long. When your attention slips away for just a beat too long. When you laugh with someone else in a way that used to be his alone.

And then? Hyugo gets quietly possessive.

Not cruel. Not jealous in the way that burns everything down. But in the way that digs in—firm, unyielding, scared in the places he refuses to show.

He’ll pout first, like it’s all fun and games. Arms crossed, an exaggerated sigh, brows cocked high with all the drama of a man auditioning for a bad soap opera.

“You ignoring me now? Damn, babe. Who’s this new cast member and what do they have that I don’t? ‘Cause I will up my stats. I’m not above DLC bribes.”

But if the other person gets too bold?

That’s when the shift comes. Subtle, but sharp.

His fingers slide to your waist, grounding himself in your warmth like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. His voice softens, drops an octave—but there’s steel under the silk now. His whole energy changes, like a storm smiling through the sunlight.

“That guy’s not gonna steal you away, right?”

The words brush your skin just before his lips do, heat trailing over your neck, a kiss so casual it feels like a claim.

“I mean… you are mine, yeah?”

It’s not a threat. Not a demand. 

It’s a plea he doesn’t know how to voice.

Because he doesn’t want to trap you—he wants to be chosen. Every day. Every hour. Loudly. With intention. Just like he chooses you.

Even when the world’s unfair. Even when he’s neck-deep in shady jobs, fractured loyalties, or the weight of who he used to be. Even when he’s afraid. He’ll still love you like it’s the only thing keeping him real. Because Hyugo doesn’t care what you are. Only that you’re his. And yeah… sometimes he still wonders if he’s too much to stay with. 

But damn if he won’t spend the rest of his life giving you every reason to stay anyway.

✑ Flaws? Suprisingly there’s only Two…

Again—no one is perfect.

Hyugo’s learned, consciously or not, that being the comic relief, the sunshine, the dependable one earns love and keeps people around. So that’s the role he plays. Laughing through pain. Masking exhaustion with trivia. Brushing off his own needs with a practiced smile.

Which is a classic avoidant coping style, often stemming from early experiences where expressing pain or emotional needs either resulted in abandonment, punishment, or dismissal. He’s not unaware of his hurt—he just doesn’t believe there’s space for it. Or that anyone will stay if they see it. So he internalizes the belief:

“If I keep everyone happy, if I’m useful and entertaining, they won’t leave.” But emotional suppression is a time bomb. Eventually, the mask cracks.

It started small. Missed texts. Delayed replies. A few vague excuses about errands or errands or “sorry, I fell asleep.” But the dark circles under his eyes weren’t from sleep.

And you knew it.

So when you drop by his place unannounced and find him sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt halfway off, eyes glazed over in thought—You don’t say anything. You just step in quietly and sit next to him.

“Didn’t expect you,” he says, voice soft. He smiles—but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I look like a mess, huh?”

You don’t reply to the joke. You just ask, “Are you okay?”

That’s when it happens.

A twitch in his jaw. A flicker of discomfort. A sharp inhale. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking. Long week, y’know?” Then a quick subject change: “Hey, did you know in some countries, strawberries used to symbolize perfection? Which is kinda dumb, 'cause they bruise so easily—”

You cut him off gently. “No trivia tonight, Hyugo.”

He goes quiet. The tension in his shoulders rises like a tide. He won’t look at you. Just stares at the floor like it might rescue him from the weight settling in his chest. “I’m good,” he says again. But softer this time. “I have to be. I don’t really get to fall apart. People expect me to… I dunno. Handle things. Be cool. Be funny. Be the guy who keeps the mood light.”

You put your hand on his knee. Anchor him. Pull him back from wherever he’s floating off to. “You’re allowed to fall apart sometimes.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. It cracks midway through. His head drops, and for the first time in a long while—he doesn’t hide the exhaustion. “But if I do… what if you leave too?”

And that’s the real fear. Not pain. Not stress. Abandonment.

You pull him in. Let him lean on you. His arms wind around your waist like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he loosens his grip. And for a while, neither of you speak.

Eventually, he murmurs, “You’re the only one I want to be weak with. That’s… scary. More than anything else I’ve done.” And he means it.

He’s not fixed. Not magically “healed.” 

But tonight, he let himself be seen. And that’s the start of something more powerful than any armor he’s ever worn.

Next is that, Hyugo doesn’t just love.

He attaches—deeply, instinctively, and without conditions. The people he chooses are more than friends, more than lovers—they’re extensions of his purpose. And if protecting them means lying, fighting, getting hurt, or burning bridges?

He’ll do it. No regrets. No hesitation.

This stems from survivor’s guilt and a deep-rooted sense of self-worth that’s tied to usefulness. In his head, if he isn’t saving someone, then what is he even for? There’s a quiet belief that he’s more tool than treasure—someone meant to hold the line so others don’t have to.

But in doing so, he forgets:

You love him for who he is. Not what he can suffer through for you.

You’d told him not to come. 

You made it clear: “I’ll handle this. Don’t get involved.”

But that was like telling a storm not to rain. The moment he caught wind of someone cornering you—someone threatening, someone bigger—Hyugo was already halfway to the alley behind the gym building, jaw tight, mind made up.

By the time you arrived, breath ragged and furious, the guy was on the ground. Groaning. Bloody lip. Hyugo stood over him, fists clenched and knuckles torn open.

He didn’t even look at you at first. He just said,

“Don’t worry. I handled it. He won’t bother you again.”

But you didn’t feel safe. You felt sick.

Not because he lost control—but because this wasn’t his burden to bear, and he didn’t even stop to think about the cost. “Hyugo,” you said, your voice shaking, “what if he presses charges? What if someone saw?”

He finally looked at you. Eyes wild. Heart still in war mode. But his expression softened when he saw the pain in your face—not from fear of him. From fear for him. “I didn’t care,” he said honestly. “I still don’t. No one’s hurting you. Not while I’m breathing.”

That should’ve made you feel safe.

But instead, it made your chest ache.

You stepped closer, grabbing his bloodied hands. They trembled slightly against yours. “You don’t get to set yourself on fire every time someone throws a spark near me.”

He blinked. Confused. Quiet. And that silence? That was the part that stung most—Because it told you he genuinely didn’t see the problem.

You reached up, cupping his face. “You think I want to watch you destroy yourself in my name? You think that’s love?”

His throat bobbed with the effort of swallowing guilt. But he didn’t pull away.

You added, softer: “You’re not a weapon. You’re my heart. And I want all of it. Whole. Safe. With me.” That was the moment he broke—just a little.

He leaned forward, forehead resting against yours. “...I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just… I didn’t know how else to protect you.”

You held him tighter. “By letting me protect you, too.”

This flaw will never fully go away. It’s wired into how he loves. But now? He’s learning there’s strength in restraint. That protecting someone doesn’t always mean throwing himself into every fire. Sometimes, it means staying close.

And staying whole—so he can keep loving you tomorrow, too.

✑ Thoughts + Ranting

Okay. So I said Hyugo only had two major flaws.

...I lied. It’s three. Sue me.

There’s one I didn’t name before. One that’s not easy to admit, even if it’s written all over him like an unspoken scar. Here it is: Hyugo is a perfect example of someone who’s been sexualized—and who learned to play into it, because it was the only way he ever felt seen.

But let’s set the record straight, because the internet loves to twist things: I’m not saying he’s a pervert. Absolutely not. Don’t even try it. This isn’t a man hiding in your closet or panting in your bushes. He’s not creeping in the dark. (Save that energy for Sol and his dramatic, stalker-coded tendencies—respectfully.) 

Hyugo isn’t that type of man.

What he is, is someone who developed hypersexual behavior—something that’s often misunderstood. Hypersexuality isn’t about being horny all the time for fun. It’s an intense, sometimes compulsive fixation on sex or sexual behavior, often as a way to cope. It’s not inherently predatory, and it’s not inherently wrong. But it is a reaction. 

A symptom. And in Hyugo’s case, it’s a wound.

See, I was sitting in class when the thought hit me like a truck: What if people really do treat Hyugo like a walking fantasy? A quick fix? A body to burn through and discard before sunrise? What if that’s how he’s always been viewed—never as a person, just a fleeting high, a secret, a sin?

Because that kind of dehumanization sticks. 

It doesn’t fade. It etches itself into the softest parts of you until you believe it too. And maybe, just maybe, Hyugo learned somewhere along the line that his worth lies in how easily he can be desired—not in who he is, but what he can do for others. What he can give.

He doesn’t feel loved. He feels used. And to protect himself, he leans into it. Becomes somewhat flirt, the temptation, the chaotic late-night call you regret in the morning. Not because it’s what he wants—but because at least this way, he’s not being rejected. He’s being chosen, even if it’s for all the wrong reasons.

And that’s why he can’t let you go.

Because you didn’t treat him like a performance. 

You didn’t treat him like a transaction. You saw through the chaos and the charm and found the person. The equal. The soul. The boy who still believes in love, even if he’s too scared to admit it out loud.

You made him feel real.

Sidenote—completely unrelated to everything I just said—but I can’t stop thinking about the fact that Hyugo lost his virginity to a man.

Fantasia said it. I’m not taking it back. It wasn’t for shock value. It’s canon. It means something. It says something about him—and the more I sit with it, the more it adds layers to his character that I can’t ignore.

First of all, it confirms what we already sensed: Hyugo’s pansexual. He doesn’t box his heart or desires into categories. He loves people, not parts. He's comfortable in his skin, open with his identity, and doesn’t shrink himself to make others comfortable. He owns who he is with that same bold, cheeky confidence he brings to everything else. And that kind of honesty? It’s rare. He doesn’t make a show of it. He just is. Unapologetically.

But here’s where it gets tangled in my head—I keep wondering about the context.

Was it a casual hookup? Something spontaneous, wild, and curious, sparked by the need to feel alive or wanted in a moment of vulnerability? Or was it more than that? Did he love this person? Did they matter to him in a way that left a mark? Could this have been the crush he mentioned once, the one he speaks about with that strange softness, like he’s remembering something half-sweet, half-sore?

Did it end suddenly? Did it end at all?

There’s something quietly haunting about the idea that Hyugo’s first time wasn’t just a physical milestone, but an emotional one too. Maybe it was one of the only times he gave himself to someone not as a game, not as a performance—but as a person. Whole. Nervous. Real.

And maybe it didn’t last. Maybe it broke him a little. Maybe that’s where the cracks started—where he learned that intimacy and pain can exist in the same breath. That being vulnerable doesn’t always lead to safety. That being wanted doesn’t always mean being kept.

That’s why it sticks with me. Not because it’s scandalous.

But because it’s human.

And in Hyugo’s story, humanity is the one thing he keeps offering—despite how often the world tries to strip it from him.

Let’s take it deeper—Hyugo and… Geo.

I know I never shut up about Geo (he’s my husband, deal with it), but this isn't just about gushing over him. There’s something worth unraveling here. Something that speaks to how trauma doesn’t create a blueprint—it creates a battlefield. Two people can grow up in the same wreckage, and walk away with completely different scars.

See, Hyugo and Geo? They’re two halves of a shared history. 

Geo likes to say they’re stepbrothers—like that somehow distances them, makes the connection less binding. But let’s be honest: blood means nothing when you’ve been raised under the same roof, weathered the same storms, and built your sense of self from the same broken foundation.

That’s your brother.

That’s family. Whether you want to admit it or not.

And that’s the thing with Geo—he doesn’t want to admit it. Cold, closed-off, “don’t touch me unless it’s about business” 

Geo would rather die than openly acknowledge Hyugo as his older brother. But that truth lives in his bones. It’s there in the way he bristles when Hyugo’s hurt, in the way he silently watches over him from across a room, like a knight who doesn’t want to be caught caring. And Hyugo? He knows. He never says it outright, never demands affection or acknowledgment. But he knows. Geo is his little brother. End of story.

What’s fascinating—and heartbreaking—is how differently they responded to the same trauma.

Geo shut down. Became all logic and sharp edges. He put walls up so high no one could climb over, and he keeps his emotions buried so deep even he forgets where he left them. He’s aromantic/asexual, what if he’s emotionally scarred to the point of numbness, one thing’s certain: Geo is the embodiment of survival through detachment. He chose silence over softness. 

Distance over danger.

Meanwhile, Hyugo? Did the opposite. If Geo’s pain froze him solid, Hyugo’s set him on fire. He threw glitter over his wounds. Covered the screaming with laughter, with noise, with affection that sometimes feels like too much—until you realize it’s the only way he knows how to ask, “Will you stay? Will you care?”

That’s why people call him two-faced. 

Why they mistake his flirtation for manipulation, his touch for control. But it’s not conquest. It’s not about power. It’s about connection. About feeling real in a world that kept trying to erase him. Hyugo wants to be loved, and not just in passing. He wants to be seen—fully, achingly, intimately.

So yeah. In my eyes, Hyugo’s hypersexual.

But not in the shallow, performative way people think. It’s not about predation. It’s not about conquest or control. It’s about feeling. About proving to himself that he’s real, that he matters, that someone sees him and still stays.

Every touch is deliberate.

Every kiss is a question: Do I still exist to you?

When Hyugo reaches for someone, it’s like he’s trying to anchor himself to this world before it slips away again. 

Because to him? Intimacy is safety. Desire is reassurance.

And love—true love—is survival.

When he touches you, he’s not just touching skin—he’s tracing the shape of a future where he doesn’t have to be afraid. When he looks at you, it’s not lust—it’s hunger for warmth, for stability, for someone who doesn’t leave.

You don’t become his partner. You become his reason. His rescue.

And once you have Hyugo’s heart?

There’s no in-between. No lukewarm affection. He’s all in. No backup plan. No armor. Just him—raw and real and terrified that you’ll disappear too. Loving Hyugo means being chosen. Means being seen in a way that strips you down to the bone, and yet somehow, makes you feel more whole than ever before.

It’s intense. It’s overwhelming. But it’s never fake.

Now pair that with his two-faced nature—the side of him people whisper about. The switch that flips from sunshine to shadow in a blink. Because yeah, Hyugo can be the kindest soul you’ve ever met.  Soft, attentive, radiant. But cross a line? Or worse—betray him?

He’ll smile while slicing you in half with words sharp enough to scar your soul. That duality isn’t an act. It’s survival.

One face to charm the world. The other to protect what little of himself he hasn’t already given away. 

And the reason that duality even exists? Because Hyugo grew up in the same haunted house as Geo. Same broken floorboards. Same locked doors. Same silence. But while Geo turned cold, Hyugo became heat.

One froze to survive. The other burned.

And they’re still bleeding from it. Two brothers.

Two different coping mechanisms. Same pain—processed on opposite ends of the spectrum. So call Hyugo hypersexual. Call him two-faced. But don’t you dare call him fake. He’s just trying to feel something real. And in this world? 

That makes him one of the bravest souls I’ve ever known.

[kagamine-d1sorder]

Finders Keepers

Solivan Brugmansia x reader(kinda reader isnt in this tho), masturbation, waking it, Sol is freaky idk what else to put. This is very short btw deal with it also I refuse to proofread anything

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

Sol meant to return the notebook.

He really did! When he found it lying on your desk in art class, he had strictly pure intentions when picking it up. Well, mostly pure intentions. Can you blame the guy? I mean, he really is innocent in all this. Curiosity got the best of him, and he just happened to open the notebook.

He expected to see some doodles, maybe a few full fledged drawings. So imagine his surprise when he saw your name written right next to his last name. His heart started beating so fast, he swears it almost exploded. Sol took a breath, and shoved the book in his bag. His self control slipping as he held the bag over his shoulders and kept his head down through the hall.

His steps were firm and purposeful as he weaved through the crowd, making a beeline for the bathroom. Sol had chosen the gender neutral bathroom, given its the only single person one. He lets out a breath as he steps in and locks the door. He leans against the wall and slides down it to sit on the floor. The notebook is pulled from his bag, and on instinct he opens it up. He just stares at the names. You want his last name.

He doesn't even realize he's unbuckling his belt and freeing his cock. He grasps it and bites his lip, slowly giving it a few pumps. "Fuck pumpkin.. see what you do to me..?" Sol mutters, squeezing his eyes shut as he swirls his thumb around his tip, smearing his precum on it. He gives his head a light squeeze before stroking himself a few more times.

His other hand is on the notebook, his thumb grazing the area where you had written his last name. He bites his lip, knowing he can't be as vocal as he'd like to be. He throws his head back, picking up the pace. "Fucking shit-" Solivan huffs as he cums into his hand and onto the notebook. He clenches his teeth and gives himself a few more pumps before buckling belt and washing his hands. He looks at the notebook and sighs.

"Sorry pumpkin." He murmurs as if you'd be able to hear him. He shuts the notebook and puts it in his bag. You wouldn't want it back in this condition anyway.

[psformybss]

write a birthday party fic whether it's for drew or for reader, n it's thrown by one of them for the other

Birthday Surprise

drew starkey x reader

warnings: surprise party, fluff, chaos, established relationship, light teasing, birthday shenanigans

an: thank you anon for the idea! <3

By noon, she was starting to spiral.

The day had started off fine—coffee in bed, sunshine pouring through the windows of her little LA apartment—but there was a notable absence in her phone. No texts. No memes. No voice notes of Drew singing “Happy Birthday” in a terrible Scottish accent. Not even a single “good morning.”

It was weird. He wasn’t the overly romantic type, but he always remembered. Last year, he sent her a bouquet of gas station snacks and a card that played the SpongeBob theme song. The year before, he’d made a homemade scavenger hunt that ended with takeout and bad wine.

But today?

Silence.

She told herself not to be dramatic. Maybe he was just busy. Maybe he was planning something subtle, something sweet. Maybe—

Her phone buzzed.

Drew: hey baby. wanna do dinner later? 7?

That was it.

She stared at the screen, lips tightening. No “happy birthday.” No heart emoji. No flair. Just… lowercase apathy. She typed back a quick sure and tossed her phone on the couch like it had personally offended her.

By the time 6:45 rolled around, she wasn’t angry exactly—just confused. A little disappointed. She kept telling herself not to expect anything, but the ache still settled behind her ribs like something half-swallowed.

She pulled up outside Drew’s apartment in West Hollywood, makeup soft, black top tucked neatly into her jeans, trying not to look like she’d actually put effort into her birthday. Just dinner. Just casual. No big deal.

The building was quiet. Suspiciously so. No music. No party sounds. Just the usual hallway air that smelled faintly of weed and Pine-Sol.

She knocked once.

The door flew open.

And chaos hit her in the face.

Literally. A balloon smacked her square in the forehead as a chorus of voices screamed, “SURPRIIIIISE!”

She stumbled back with a shriek, eyes wide as the scene exploded in front of her.

His apartment had been transformed into a glitter bomb of ridiculous proportions. There were streamers duct-taped to the ceiling, an oversized balloon arch framing the TV, and confetti covering nearly every visible surface—including, somehow, the inside of the fridge. People were everywhere: Chase standing on the coffee table in a cowboy hat, Madison blowing bubbles into a solo cup, Rudy holding what looked like a tray of jello shots shaped like tiny animals.

And in the middle of it all stood Drew.

Grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

Wearing a T-shirt that said “Birthday Girl’s Boyfriend” in sparkly gold letters.

Her jaw dropped. “You—what—Drew?”

“You really thought I forgot,” he said, stepping forward with outstretched arms, his eyes gleaming like he’d just pulled off the heist of the century. “Wow. You wound me.”

“You did forget! Or—you acted like you did!”

“For the element of surprise,” he said smugly, wrapping her in a tight hug. “And based on that scream, I’d say it worked.”

She laughed against his chest, the sound shaking out of her like relief. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best,” he corrected, planting a kiss to the top of her head as he swayed her gently in the middle of the madness. “Admit it.”

The apartment burst into music as someone connected a speaker and cranked the volume. Madelyn tossed a tiara onto her head with a wink. “You’ve entered your sparkly era, babe. Embrace it.”

Someone handed her a drink. Someone else handed her a cupcake. Before she could process any of it, Chase was dragging her into a makeshift karaoke battle and someone else yelled, “Let’s do cake shots on the roof!”

It was absurd. It was loud. It was chaos.

And it was… perfect.

At one point, she ended up standing in the kitchen, laughing so hard her stomach hurt, watching as Drew tried to light candles on a cake that looked like it had barely survived transport. The frosting was a little melted, the sprinkles sliding off the sides—but it was shaped like a paint palette.

Her favorite.

She blinked, her chest swelling. “You remembered.”

He shrugged, suddenly sheepish. “You said once you missed painting, so… figured I’d bring the art to you.”

That’s when she kissed him.

Right there, in the middle of the chaos, her hand tangled in his shirt and the other curling around his jaw as she pulled him in. He tasted like frosting and tequila and something warm and familiar. The room spun around them—Chase yelling in the background, someone knocking over a cup, the faint crackle of sparklers on the balcony—but none of it mattered.

He kissed her like he meant it. Like the party, the planning, the ridiculous shirt—it had all been worth it just to feel her mouth on his, smiling as she kissed him back.

When they finally broke apart, he was grinning so hard it looked like it hurt. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

She laughed into his neck. “Took you long enough.”

“Had to make it count.”

Hours later, after most of the crowd had thinned and the music had softened into a playlist of lo-fi beats and leftovers, she found herself curled into the corner of Drew’s couch, his hoodie draped over her shoulders and her feet tucked beneath her.

He sank beside her, handing her a slice of cold pizza on a paper plate. “You survived.”

“Barely,” she teased, biting into it. “Pretty sure I inhaled glitter.”

He leaned back, arm resting behind her head, gaze soft. “Was it okay? Not too much?”

She turned toward him, heart full. “It was messy and loud and absolutely ridiculous.”

Then, quieter: “It was perfect.”

He smiled, eyes crinkling. “Next year? Bounce house.”

She groaned. “You’re unhinged.”

“Maybe,” he said, tilting her chin with his finger until her eyes met his again. “But I love you.”

Her breath caught.

And then she leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Good thing I love you too, chaos and all.”

[raayllum]

Trailer Breakdown time

Important notice: There will be spoilers from 7x01 mentioned as well from NYCC as well as screencaps that were previously released. Read ahead at your own risk!

So what a trailer am I right?

For this meta I'm gonna divide into sections in terms of episode order (largely 7x01, 7x02, and speculation to the mid season point) and then also talk about voice overs / clip placement from previous seasons when I think it's relevant. Let's go!

What we know

These shots of Callum and then Ezran and co. touching down in Katolis, as well as the vision Ezran has of his parents (which the fact he's seeing like that rather than how they actually were, sitting on the thrones side by side, is life ruining let me tell you) are all from 7x01, "Death Alive".

We know thanks to 7x01 that Runaan is arrested and everyone goes to the Banther Lodge to set up a temporary camp / plan their next moves, hence a makeshift council meeting (which Ezran having the throne brought with him... baby boy really isn't doing well). So it seems the following screencaps are all from 7x02.

We can also place this Callum and Rayla handhold at the Banther Lodge by the bridge outside.

They are probably (for whatever reason) conspiring/deciding to free Runaan and leave, leading to this scene with matching sky / colours - Soren and Rayla squaring off before Ezran arrives with more guards.

He might let them go or try to hold on, but they successfully flee / get away. I could also see Rayla and/or Runaan stepping in like "I'll stay behind, you go to the Silvergrove" (and if Rayla offers, that might melt Ezran enough to let them leave). Either way, I think Ezran's conversation with Aanya on the Banther Lodge bridge will either influence the choice(s) he makes here if it's before, or reference this crossroads if it comes after before we leave the Banther Lodge for the season.

We also know from 7x01 that Aaravos wants a Moon primal stone and to likely corrupt the Moon Nexus in order to invert life and death, destroy the Cosmic Order, and bring about eternal night. It seems likely Claudia and human Aaravos will achieve these aims by the mid-season point-ish. After 7x01 they have to go to the Puzzle House to get the map to the Garden of Innocence with unicorns, and they will likely require Terry's Pure Heart (my interview with Aaron Ehasz) to read the map to get them there. If 7x02 is "pure heart" that could be a nice parallel between Callum-Rayla and Terry-Claudia about a willingness (or lack of) to help and why.

From there, it's all speculation, so let's get into it.

What we can speculate

So first things first, we get Claudia and Human Aaravos at the Moon Nexus doing the Nexus inversion, presumably, and bringing people / creatures back from the dead. One looks rather like Ziard and brings up a staff, which Aaravos takes.

We also know this is earlier on in the season because Claudia's har is more white. During the spell, we also see Soren, Terry, Allen, and what seems to be Aanya holding a dead / unconcious Lujanne on the ground. It seems both Soren and Terry are running to stop her, though I don't know what Allen is doing (maybe holding back Ezran for some reason, if Ez is there).

Then we have more of the dead coming out, including a dragon that almost squashes Soren but does not have a rider, so it's not the same (assumedly) as before.

Later on, we see more creatures crawling out of the water at what seems to be the Nexus, since it's bordered by the same walls as the lake.

We also see Aanya and Ezran surrounded by the dead at the Valley of Graves (hi Sol Regem skeleton), but the moon doesn't look as... corrupted / taken as it does at the Nexus shot, so this could be happening in the early stages of the spell. Then Ezran could send Soren, who gets there too late, and who knows how fast Aaravos can travel on his own.

There seems to be some kind of confrontation between Ez, Aanya (hi exploding fire arrows), and Aaravos at the Valley of the Graves either way.

Since like I said the Moon isn't in the right spot, I'd wager the Ez-Aanya fight here is from 7x03 or 7x04, with the Moon Nexus inversion in 7x04 or 7x05. In the same timeframe, Rayla (and Runaan + Callum?) is going back to the Silvergrove and being put on trial.

The little tiny mushrooms here and in the section with her and one of the fallen assassins makes me think that rather than just standing around and talking, there could be an underwater dream-like portion to the trial as well. Something like "You touch the assassin and get blood on your hands (literally)" because they love their on-the-nose symbolism.

So I don't think the screenshots here are Rayla getting injured... Yet.

Now onto the harder to speculate sections, or what I like to call

What the Fuck is Going On

It seems, since Callum and Ezran learn that, "Aaravos is back. He wants to bring about eternal night. He's unleashed the spirits of the dead" (Callum) that the kids regroup and plan for what to do next. This could be 7x05 or 7x06. The trio (broyals / Rayla and Ezran) reconcile maybe from the Runaan fall out, with Ezran asserting that, "We have to be ready. We have to build our defences." (This could also be where Callum's line as a "the three of us have been through a lot together. We'll get through this, too" comes in as a parting goodbye before the group splits, as well as Callum's heroic rallying speech that is very reminiscent of 3x08: "There is a way out of this. With good people doing courageous things. Doing what's right!").

This "building our defences" could mean that the trio splits up to go get allies from prior seasons, like Rex Igneous (Ezran and co. shot) and Akiyu. They could also be fetching sun crystals for Aanya's arrows.

We see Callum defending an unconscious Akiyu (by the water) and Runaan (just under his tunic flare). His ice spell seemingly responds to Claudia's fire spell, and she has more white hair and is standing likewise near water. So it seems we'll get a Callum Claudia duel face off sometime in the mid to late season!

It also seems that Claudia's Laurelion dragon-scale necklace is just a dragon-scale, but gives her the super armour / fire power-up.

At some point we also meet up with the Sunfire elves, not just at their ruins / make-shift camp, but at the Sunforge palace itself, since Khessa's throne is in the background in these shots with Rayla. The purple background and Phyrrah also indicates that Soren and Corvus are in the same area.

Presumably, they've gathered all their allies (end of 7x08?) and are preparing for their final attempt to defeat Aaravos (and free Callum?). And Callum is going to get possessed, so when do we think it's happening?

Well, if the gang is travelling to get allies, Callum (and Rayla - and maybe Ezran or others?) have gone to get Zubeia perhaps from the mushroom mage. While there, shit goes down, and we get this shot of Callum (presumably from 7x06-7x07):

While the cube is angled the way it was in Callum's dark magic dreams, I don't think this is a dream. The background doesn't match up with previous, we've never seen this form of corrupted face for him with his eyes not black, and he has a white streak, which was never present when dreaming of himself as Aaravos' puppet last season.

I also don't think Callum is going to do dark magic to coin Aaravos (at least not for the initial corruption). Not only is it a little wonky pacing wise, it's a bit too clean, as it takes away the #1 threat Callum is scared of when it comes to doing dark magic. While he of course doesn't want to be corrupted at all, it was primarily the fact the corruption would make him Aaravos' puppet that scared him. It's also a bit too thematically contradictory for Aaravos to be successfully defeated in a 'bad way' rather than in a good way (teamwork, etc) nor does it work with the 6x03 set up for him and Rayla, but that's just me.

That all said, the fact that the trailer highlights his parallels to Viren and Claudia not just once, but twice (god bless that "however dangerous, however vile" and another "I would do anything for you") and through Kosmo's 6x06 voice over ("If you ever do dark magic again, the darkness and corruption will overwhelm you") makes it pretty clear that even if it hasn't happened here, it will happen in the season eventually. I don't think i have much to say on this plot beat / characterization that I haven't been saying for, well, the past 4 years, cause if you know, you know! (And I'll probably do a post just screaming about this + the cube later anyway.)

We also have some misc screencaps that could go about anywhere (Terry running, him + Aaravos and Claudia in the woods with the flying primal stone? Seeker or guider?) even if I do think they continually point towards Terry defecting this season.

Conclusion

If I missed any screencaps or you have any questions feel free to send them my way in my askbox! What do you think is going to happen and what are you most excited for this season?

[goodlucktai]

absolutely maniacally OBSESSED with gio and the archer au /Massive Pos /Aff

I have SO many rambles and questions but I shall CONTAIN myself like a sane person!!!

First things first: I was reading the Baby!Gio posts and felt my heart get violently strangled(/pos) and so I went and rescrolled through Everything(tm) again...

....and refound the lil Gio comics and how the thunder scared him when he was sitting with Leo.

Is Gio afraid of thunder/loud noises because his very first experience as a tot was the lab literally exploding and sending him crashing into a different place entirely alone? Like maybe he doesn't really remember it, but SOMETHING in him does....

first of all, thank you !! 🩶 any time anyone is nice to my son i gain a billion HP

i was holding onto this ask because i was hoping to use it to write a little prompt fill about the events that made baby gio so terrified of thunderstorms, but i felt bad leaving it unanswered for so long ! if down the road one of us does write that chapter (hopefully sol who came up with the idea in the first place), i will try to remember to tag you in it

the bare bones of it is that when gio was very little he begged his at the time foster parents to let him go outside and play in the rain, make his little aquatic turtle instincts happy. he whined and pleaded, the whole nine yards, like any other toddler acting their age. the foster parents turned it into a teaching moment by letting him into the backyard and then locking the door so he couldn't come back inside even after he'd gotten his fill of splashing around, even after the storm clouds got darker and the rain came down harsher. this was what he wanted so he better enjoy it. maybe it would teach him to be more obedient

gio got very sick after that and was moved out of their care, but the damage was done. he's outgrown his fear of thunderstorms now, because he's pragmatic to his core, but he never managed to shake his dislike of them. he subconsciously associates rain with a foggy, feverish memory of begging on someone's back porch to be let back inside

but ! eventually he might learn to associate rainy days with something kinder :)

[dotthings]

Wow, yeah, that’s a lot to process.

One thing is how the Jedi here get to be so messy, and flawed, and vulnerable. They messed up. Without it being going to the dark side or ill-intent.

Nothing about Star Wars has ever intended to say the Jedi order was perfect, or Jedi are perfect, unfeeling, always serene who can do no wrong and don’t ever battle with their emotions. It can be messy and they can screw up without it being an epic downspiral into the dark side.

Torbin’s a restless kid who hasn’t yet learned the patience he needs to be a fully effective Jedi. Master Indara tries to guide him and keep everyone on her team from going off the rails and she does her best but she can’t keep things from falling apart.

Indara’s wise, calm, strategic, diplomatic, and her team should have listened to her or this maybe could have been avoided.

Poor Kelnacca, like Torbin, gets mind-controlled by the witches, and a mind-controlled Jedi wookie, that’s just adding to the chaos.

Sol acted entirely on emotion in ways that are exactly what the Jedi warn against, but the problem isn’t inherently that he led with his heart and his feelings, it’s that he allowed that to cloud his judgment so badly. Even if Torbin is actually the one who pulls them all back into the fortress and it sort of spirals from there, it’s not Torbin’s fault, per se. It’s Sol’s attachment to Osha that’s the main driver and how that governed his actions.

It’s also not simple where it’s Jedi bad. They thought they were doing the right thing, but lack of ill-intentions doesn’t mean they were in the right to intrude the way they did. This is also a situation with multiple pov and misunderstandings from both sides. It also shows how conflict can explode even in a situation where most of the players go into it wanting to avoid violence.

There were wild cards on both sides. The Jedi themselves, Mae’s fire (not blaming Mae, she immediately was terrified and regretful and didn’t realize how it would spread, but hey, making things even spicier and more chaotic, throw some fire into the mix). Mother Koril leads with aggression, which was a contributing factor.

Mother Aniseya is a mirror for Indara—both of them are calm, measured, and conduct themselves in ways designed to de-escalate and avoid violence. But they weren’t enough to keep it from spiraling.

Everything that could have gone wrong, did.

Then Sol makes a terrible choice where if he’d tried to hold both twins with the force as the bridge collapsed, he’d lose them both. He’s not strong enough to hold both sides of the broken bridge. So he makes a choice.

And after all that, the part that actually hurts the most, is Indara and Sol’s decision to lie. I appreciate that Sol wanted to tell the truth, and face up to his mistakes, and Indara—so calm, so wise, so competent—is the one who pressures him to lie. And again, with good intentions—because she wants to spare Osha the pain of learning the truth.

It’s heartbreaking. The fact that Master Sol lied is what I think Osha’s bond with him won’t be able to recover from the most when she finds out the truth.

I wonder how much these events haunted the Jedi order. If the story gets told and used as a cautionary tale.

There’s also a cohesion thematically between these events to the prequel trilogy, and The Clone Wars. The flaws and weaknesses of the Jedi order. Which, in their attempt to course correct, might have actually compounded the issues.

[vicepeddler]

Alright let's do this thing. First chapter of a WIP top-to-bottom rewrite of an old novel-length fic.

Content: Second-person male POV, 18+ subject matter, grown-up angst, fat appreciation, food appreciation

"Step into the shoes of a twenty-something white-collar man who is both starting to succeed at work but also haunted by whispers of ennui. An unwelcome morning shock is followed by a much more welcome shock as a distinctive acquaintance from years past reaches out, hoping to rekindle an old crush."

The elevator pitch is WIP too.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

POSITIVE INFLUENCE - Chapter 1

It is the start of a Tuesday in early May for the town of Northeaston, or "Anytown" for the hip: concrete suburbia struggling to conquer rolling hills, crashing into indomitable old-timey charm and piling into a modest but shiny city center. The sun has just peeked above the horizon, casting golden light across the land and into windows, stirring souls much like those you may already know, yet not quite the same. Eyes begin to open, lips take their first conscious breaths, hands flex and grasp for the first time in hours - a perfectly average morning. Except: eyes more readily take in the sight of an abundant human form, lips more easily curl into smiles at the prospect of a big meal, and hands are more accustomed to the feel of soft curves or warm rolls beneath them. This is a world whose inhabitants, quite simply, are down with the thickness.

Which brings us to you.

You are a twenty-something white-collar man, for our purposes we shall call you Anon. The warm golden tide of sunlight reaches your bedroom window and washes over you. You grumble something and turn your back on Sol's warmth, trying to miser a few more moments of sleep before beginning your own day.

A horrendous cacophony explodes from your nightstand. Not the prosaic clanging of your smartphone's alarm clock, a genuine electronic pandemonium, like an armful of dial-up modems screaming in terror before being devoured by an industrial shredder. Yanked immediately and thoroughly awake, heart pounding, you nearly fall out of bed scrambling over to determine exactly what the hell is going on with your device. Your phone screen is a roiling malebolge of alphanumeric characters, jpeg fragments and scintillating rogue pixels, and just as you're wondering if the formerly-trusty device is about to explode, a calm eye of sorts emerges amidst the digital storm.

Transfixed, you see some characters appear, clear as day, spelling out "Are you ready for this?"

All you can do is blink. As you behold but fail to process the spectacle, the first message disappears, replaced by "Chaos everywhere".

You stupidly gawp at the screen, and just as the gears finally begin to turn and you resolve to throw the cursed device out the window, stillness falls and the screen goes black. Two moments later, the reassuring routine of the boot cycle begins, the anodyne logo of the manufacturer lighting up the screen. Soon after, the boot process completes normally and the device cheerily displays the lock screen, a colorful abstract design.

With your free hand, you rub a temple and hiss to yourself, "what the fuck", hesitantly plugging in your passcode with the other thumb. The smartphone completes its boot cycle as though nothing happened - not a single pixel on your home screen seems to be out of place. You sigh, note the time, and manually disable the day's wakeup alarm, giving up on some extra shuteye and shuffling into your morning routine.

The spectacular malfunction of your phone is by far the most exciting thing to happen in months, and that realization gets you a touch reflective as you freshen up. Is this going to be your life from here on out? Morning coffee, modestly-challenging job, shuteye, then do it all over again for another thirty-plus years? Maybe get a house somewhere in there (if the earning situation keeps up, this'll actually be in the cards in a couple years)?

Good lord. Your frontal lobe has just finished baking and you're already thinking in terms of years. And there isn't even a lady in the picture, plus-sized or otherwise. After spitting out some toothpaste and rinsing out your mouth, you take a moment to stare down the man in the mirror. You're not exactly displeased: handsome by your own reckoning, though you perpetually wish you could make it to the gym more no matter how many ads or slogans you see extolling "soft boys". What does displease you is a refreshed sliver of white: a gray hair that first appeared front-and-center during a particularly tough round of final exams back in college. A moment with tweezers and the unwelcome memento mori is washed down the drain. With that, you let out a deep sigh, consciously draining some angst from your chest, which makes space to notice a gnawing sensation a bit further down. Perhaps adulting won't seem so dire after some breakfast.

While slouched into a kitchen chair and picking at some toast, your phone buzzes again. After your bizarre wakeup, the sound sends a lightning bolt through you, and you glance over half-expecting the thing to be on fire.

No fire, no malfunctions, but there is a surprise - a text from a number you don't recognize.

"Hey, is this Anon? You might not remember me, but we kinda knew each other back in high school."

Immediately followed up by, "OMG, I'm such an idiot! This is Val Sojka, if the name rings a bell?"

There's enough emojis to slow your parsing of the messages, but some teenage memories come rushing back. Val (short for Valentine, which she hated) was a striking figure in your class to say the least: Blonde, blue-eyed, fair-skinned, and athletic. Well, "athletic" is underselling it: she was a muscular six-foot-three, outweighed most adult men, and improbably was one of the all-time best tight ends on the football team, boy or girl. She's hard to forget.

Your pulse picks up as you reply, "Yeah, you've got Anon. I remember you! We were in Ms. Rosenthal's history class junior year, and we did that group presentation on the Cold War?"

"OMG yes! I knew I got the right Anon! lol so I know this is random, but can we catch up and chat sometime soon?"

You blink a few times and your heart skips a beat. This has to be for a good reason, right? No sense in looking a gift... muscle babe? in the mouth.

"I'd love to! But I've got to get to work and I'm having a weird morning to boot. I can try and find a minute later to hash out a time?"

"Ok! My schedule is actually pretty open, so just text me when you can!"

With that, you fire back a quick acknowledgment and finish your preparatory routine, but now infused with elated, nervous energy. As you hop into your car and head for work, you realize that you're actually badly out of the loop regarding your old friends. Sure, you're still close with Carlos and the dudes in his orbit, but he's about the only one you'd stayed in contact with. Your social media accounts are basically for show, and your circle was never particularly active online either.

As you round a corner and approach the drab block of your office, two thoughts strike you. First, if nothing else, (re?)connecting with Val would be a great chance to catch up with your old group by proxy. The second thought draws a smirk - maybe Val ran into the old "football player curse" and put on a little chub in the intervening years.

~~~~~

Morning in the office is a fluorescent blur. Spreadsheets, the same tired jokes about the weather, the same dirtlike breakroom coffee, stealth glances at well-fed office lady butts in plus-sized pants or skirts.

Around noon you take a much-needed break back to the real world, and trek out from the building, walking towards a food court a few minutes away. There's a few options, but a certain sandwich shop, the local Lotza's franchise, is your favorite. Not for the food, though it is solid.

The line stacked up before the ordering counter is actually a blessing in your book, because it gives you plenty of time to steal glances at a seemingly-omnipresent chubby cashier girl. Her black work jeans are practically sprayed over thick hips and a luscious tummy pooch, and her uniform shirt seems to strain with every motion of her plump middle and arms. A nametag, pinned conspicuously near plunging cleavage, declares the owner of said cleavage to be one Syl. A grin never leaves her round face as she effortlessly weaves small talk in between taking orders, and a short chestnut ponytail bounces around cheerfully as she gestures and works.

Soon enough you're face to face with Syl the cashier. A hand sinks into her denim-clad flank as she politely awaits your order.

"Hi, just a number 3 with an unsweet tea, please."

"Sure thing," she says with a smile. "Anything else?"

"Nah, that's it."

"You sure? You look pretty hungry to me." Now a grin, and a wink.

"Temptation," you laugh. "Just what I need! But no, I'm good."

She punches in your order to the screen while evenly retorting, "It's a lot easier than you'd think. Especially for a regular like you."

You must've replied with a stupid face, because Syl laughs again.

"Always gotta try!" She hands you a receipt. "It'll be ready in a few minutes."

A spin by the self-serve fountain, a double-check that you're indeed selecting the reserve of unsweetened tea, then a few awkward minutes with the other hungry patrons at the pickup area. The staff is working fast, and you've barely settled in to wait before you're scooping up your tray and making your way outside for some fresh air. An unbidden vision of Syl growing fatter in real-time, her strained uniform growing tighter, and tighter, seams starting to give... You mentally swat away the spicy but ill-timed fantasy and find a free table.

The number three is a turkey sandwich, stacked with a quotidian array of lettuce, tomato, and mayo, but with a rather uniquely quality toasted bun. You've barely swallowed the first bite of your meal when a gruff voice erupts to your side.

"She did WHAT? Oh, not again..."

Managing not to jump, you turn towards the voice and take in a sturdy but scruffy blue-collar guy leaning against a nearby table. One hand holds a cell phone to his ear, the other rubs a gray-streaked temple. Judging from the fluorescent hi-vis vest (partially hiding a Dropkick Murphys t-shirt) you guess the guy's working at one of the nearby construction projects.

"Well if little miss Carol actually apologized this time, I'll make sure my daughter does too."

Silence on this end of the line, then, "Right. I appreciate that, I suppose. Yes, I'll be able to pick her up after school today. And yes, I'll talk to her. Again."

With that, the guy hangs up and slams a hand onto the table, cursing not quite under his breath. He glances up and makes eye contact with you. You know better than to play innocent, so you simply play the situation straight. "Sorry, man, wasn't trying to eavesdrop. Everything ok?"

His body language is hard to get a fix on. After a tense moment he says, "Not really. My daughter got into another fight at school today."

The man's stark admission isn't particularly surprising, but it's still jarring. "I'm sorry to hear that. Teenager?"

A "yeah" plus a glance off to the side. The next moment, the man's gaze is back on you.

"Honestly, I'm at fuckin'... wit's end, dude. If you've got any ideas, I - nah, that's stupid. I shouldn't be bothering you with my problems."

Something about his weary body language grabs at you. "It's ok. What kind of advice? Dunno how much help I'd be, but I can give it a shot."

The man visibly slouches a touch more and sighs, "You sure?"

You nod and set your sandwich down. This seems serious.

"My daughter Lisa, she's fifteen and... Ugh, it's so crazy, man. She's turned into a total wild card, I don't know where it came from. She could be a complete hellion one moment, and the next she's apologizin' from the bottom of her heart."

After a long pause, "I just don't know what to do. Part of me's thinkin' about military school. All this is on top of her getting arrested last week!" He quickly clarifies, probably to answer your raised eyebrows, "They let her off with a warning, but still. I'm just worried that she's on a fast track to some real trouble."

Gesturing at a nearby seat, you finally reply, "Geez, that does sound serious. But maybe we can put our heads together."

The man extends his hand, and the two of you shake. His grip is calloused and firm, but respectful - he doesn't try to yank your arm off. "Duane."

"Anon. Nice to meet you."

After Duane sits, a small smile cracks his face. He smells a bit like an ashtray. "To be fair, the arrest was for some bullshit loitering charge. I got into way worse trouble when I was her age, heh. Thank God we didn't have the internet back then."

He chuckles again, and you offer a small laugh in return.

"So," you start cautiously. "I'm not a dad, and I don't know shit about raising any sort of kid, much less a teenage girl. But if you're asking me to talk off the cuff..."

"I think I am."

"It sounds like your daughter might be acting out for attention? It's a real common thing for teenagers, or so I've heard."

Duane gazes past you and watches a few cars roll by on the nearby road. "I'd considered that," he eventually replies. "Everything's been fucked since the divorce."

Taken aback, you avoid stammering, "I'm sorry?"

"Don't be. There's a reason I got custody. But that's a whole 'nother can of worms."

Another pause, but Duane continues monologuing a bit. Maybe he just needed a sympathetic ear. "I know I haven't been around much. I'm busting my ass to keep a roof over our heads, but I know little Lisa isn't seeing that. She just sees her dad isn't around much."

"That's gotta be real tough. I couldn't imagine, Duane."

"Yeah..."

An awkward pause, then an idea. "The two of you must bond over something, right? Uh, maybe there's a class that she really enjoys?"

Duane's eyes seem to light up a bit. "Lisa gets ok grades, but now that you've mentioned it - we took a trip to the Carbon Spires National Park last year. She took so many pictures with her crummy lil' phone, I saved some cash and got her a proper digital camera that Christmas!"

"Hey, that's something!"

"God, I've been so burnt-out from work, I barely noticed she's been snapping up tons of pictures." Duane scratches his stubbly chin pensively. He hammers a fist onto the chintzy table, drawing a couple nearby sets of eyes. "I'm going to set aside more energy for her. She's my goddamned daughter. She deserves nothing less!"

You grin at your surprise guest. "She's got to know you're busting your ass, and I'm sure that even a quick photo review session would mean a lot to her!"

Duane grins at you and grips your shoulder. Internally you hope he isn't smudging your shirt, but you're more charmed by this moment of human connection. "Maybe she'd be into some photography lessons," he muses. "It'd be a way to keep her out of trouble too.."

The two of you share a quick laugh, then with a metallic scrape, the older man is back on his feet. "Man I picked a winner, huh?" He chuckles. Before he turns to leave, he fishes something out from his vest pocket. It's a business card, a little bent up but otherwise fine. "Hey, Anon, you're alright. Dunno if you'd want to keep in touch with ol' Duane, but if ya do..."

Accepting the card, you reply, "Thanks man. I just hope I gave you good advice!"

He turns a bit more, but another laugh, "Can't hurt! And if worse comes to worse, I'll figure something out. I'm a big boy after all!"

And with that, he's dipped into the sandwich shop, doubtless an easy mark for Syl's upselling charms. You do actually load Duane's contact info into your phone, praying that the device won't eat the data with another digital seizure some day.

The rest of your meal is blessedly lonely. Soon enough, you've tossed your trash and are headed back out of the restaurant, though not before stealing one more glance at Syl. This time she's unwittingly struck a pouty pose, chubby hip checked to the side as she glares at an apparently-misbehaving register.

You only allow yourself a moment, and are promptly pounding concrete on the way back to your office building. Thoughts of your eventful lunch plague you, but Duane's predicament just doesn't stick. Maybe you push him and his daughter aside because you've already done all you reasonably can to help. In spite of your altruistic instincts, of course it's Syl, that rubenesque sandwich goddess, who takes up the most space in your mind.

"You look pretty hungry to me..."

Quit thinking with your dick, man. Yeah, you are in fact hungry, maybe because you've been single for too long. Besides, she probably says that to everybody.

~~~~~

You push past the glass doors of your office building, heave your way back up the stairs, and yawn. Though the morning's phone incident was close to your normal wake-up time, you still blame the malfunction for cutting into your energy. Need coffee. Roll past the cubicle farm and into the little breakroom. There's a pot ready, so you load up a paper cup, blow across the rim, and stare into the liquid darkness, thinking. Not about Syl or Duane, or even Val for that matter. The change of location has gotten your head back in the game, and now you're mulling over customs laws for a demanding client who wants a shipment of fancy Indonesian ironwood timber.

The sound of nearby footsteps pulls you back to the moment. You look up from the caffeinated abyss and spot your coworker Kelly, emerging from the shared fridge with a flat container and a slightly-concerned expression. Though she's about your age, Kelly has a powerful "team mom" aura, an impression only enhanced by her plump busty figure and disarming squirrely smile. "You doing ok, Anon?" she asks.

You return a wry grin. "I'm having a weird day, and that ironwood contract makes me want to die."

"Awww," she bursts out simultaneously laughing and cooing. "You having a delayed case of the Mondays?"

"Guess so, heh."

Without another word, Kelly holds out her arms, offering a hug as she frequently does. You let her come in, and return the brief embrace with your free arm. It's comforting to be sure, but you don't dwell on the sensation - Kelly is very much taken and this is a professional environment after all.

She pulls away, apparently satisfied with the change in your expression or bearing.

"Guess I needed that," you quip.

"That's what they all say! Listen, Anon, boss man gave you that project because he knows you can handle it, and I believe in you too!"

"Thanks, K. I gotta get back to it."

Kelly gives you a polite wave and returns to her lunch container (something with rice), and you start back to your cube. A few moments later, you're settling into your chair and trying to find your center amidst the busy buzz of the office.

One last distraction though. You break out your phone and finally dash off a text to Val. "Hey, this morning's been crazy, but do you still want to hash out a meetup time? Also, can I ask why you've reached out? Did something happen?"

A reply comes surprisingly promptly, "I just wanted to see you and to reminisce. Is that suspicious somehow lol?"

You're trying to read between the lines and failing. Is Val actually hitting on you?

Gather more information. "Gonna be honest, I'm pretty out of the loop too, but last I saw you were pretty steady with Dale."

"Don't worry about him," comes back with a cluster of cheeky emojis.

Your eyes bug out and you need a moment to compose your next message, "I can't help but be worried about Big Dale, Val. If you're asking me to go behind his back, he will literally kill me. Maybe eat me too, like with a fork."

There's a long pause on the other end, then you see the bouncing triple dots indicating an in-progress response. You count off a solid 100 seconds before Val's next message finally lands: "Dale and I have been split up for months, but yeah I guess you wouldn't have a way of knowing that."

In spite of the angst-soaked words, your heart soars, and a smile immediately cracks your face. And there's more.

"Anon, to tell the truth, I had a crush on you back then and I think I still do. Sorry to ruin the surprise lol."

Sheer elation nearly knocks you from your chair, but before you can begin to compose a reply, Val drops another bomb: "To keep telling the truth, senior year I was going to ask you to prom. I made a deal with Dale and everything. But you got to Jen literally one day before. OMG I was so jealous!"

You must've made some sort of weird noise, because your cube neighbor rolls back and gives you a concerned look. He returns to his workstation after you give him a halfhearted "I'm ok" gesture.

A breath to recenter, and you decide to stick with the reminiscing. "Val, that's simply amazing. And I thought that prom already had so much drama around it. Lena and I made a deal too, but I still thought she was going to kill me when she actually saw Jen on my arm."

"OMG right? I remember that! And I remember how happy Jen looked... See, this is why we need to catch up, Anon!"

A glance up to the heavens, and a subvocalized "I don't know why I deserve this, but thank you God".

Looking back at the screen, about all you can muster is a simple, "When and where do you want to meet?"

"Dinnertime, so about six-ish and at my place?" Val attaches her current address and instructions to reach her specific condo unit.

You do a little mental math before sending your reply, "Would you mind if I headed there straight after work? I'll probably be a bit early if I do that."

"Perfectly fine! I'll see you this evening!" The added heart-studded emojis are probably just Val being over-the-top girly. Probably?

The afternoon is intractable. Constant false-starts on finding the appropriate customs forms and regulations are driving you nuts, but you do eventually nail down the applicable statutes in the waning hour of the workday. Having reached a stopping point, and way more excited about what awaits you on the outside, you're promptly hauling ass to your car and down the road. For a moment, until you run into the rush hour. Plus an accident. Plus some roadwork. All told it takes you almost 45 infuriating minutes to reach Val's place, though it probably won't be so bad next time.

~~~~~

Val lives in a rather unorthodox modern-style condo complex with generous covered parking. Double-checking to ensure you're in a visitor or undesignated spot, you shut down the engine and practically skip through the hallway toward Val's unit. Everything is clean and bright in desaturated earth-tones, the condo doors painted in a gradient of calming grays and browns. Val's door is a pale taupe, somehow almost purple-ish. For a moment you consider sending a text to announce your arrival, but decide instead to just go for it. Thrice you smartly rap your knuckles on the door. It feels fairly solid. A moment later the latch clicks and the door swings open.

The first thing you do is tilt your head back slightly, and you're eye-to-eye with Val Sojka for the first time in years. Her eyes are crystal-blue, nestled under prominent cheekbones and framed by a fair heart-shaped face. The fluffy bun topping her head is every bit as blonde as you remember and a touch messy. A calm smile plays on her lips, with an unplaceable energy bubbling beneath the surface. You can feel your pulse thrumming from your chest up into your temples.

"Heyyy! Glad to see you could make it, Anon! C'mon in!"

Val reaches out, perhaps to touch your shoulder, but stops short, instead beckoning you over the threshold. So much for her getting chubby - Val's arm is every bit as wiry and sturdy as you remember, maybe even moreso. In spite of yourself and your own preferences, your gaze sticks to her forearm for a long instant, fascinated by the taut interplay of tendons and muscle as she gestures.

Somehow you're across the threshold and the door latches behind you.

"Anon, are you ok?"

You blink and your mind returns to your own body. Val's front door opens into a rather wide tiled space, a dining table to your right and a kitchen area to the left. Covered cookware and scattered packaging tells you that Val was cooking even before the aroma of sauteed garlic hits your nose.

"Wha? Oh yeah, sorry. Guess I'm a little out of it, today's been crazy," you answer a little sheepishly.

"That's alright," Val laughs. "Sounds like you could use some dinner. Chicken alfredo sound good? Oh, wait - gosh I should have asked first!"

"Relax, I'm not a picky eater, especially if somebody else cooked. I'm sure it'll be great," you say politely.

Val grins and leads you over to the table, and you glance at her figure while she double-checks the table setting. Yep, still just as tall and imposingly-built as you recall. Her outfit is a mix of complement and concealment: knee-length capris that hug her powerful thighs and show off her calves, paired with a loose purple t-shirt draped over doubtlessly shredded abs. A moment later, you sit.

You barely have time to fiddle with the weighty silverware before Val swoops by the table with a steaming pot of pasta and spoons a generous portion into your bowl. She sits across from you and barely fits a double-portion into her own bowl.

"Bon appetit!" She giggles, and digs in without a reply from you.

And with that, you start in too, twisting up a small tangle of fettuccine, dripping in creamy sauce. It's good: first thing you notice is the smooth, savory hit of the sauce, counterweighted with a strong but not overpowering note of garlic. Something has you suspecting that she made the sauce from scratch, and the gentle not-quite-crunch of the al dente noodles adds to your enjoyment. Taking another bite, you go for a chunk of chicken. Breast meat, and a good cut, flavored through without drying out at all.

"This is really good, thanks for cooking and for having me over, Val." You don't even have to try to sound appreciative.

Val slurps a stray length of pasta past her lips, licks away a blob of cream, and swallows heavily before replying. "Thanks!" She beams, "I've really gotten into cooking, and I just plain kind of like doing nice things for my friends."

"So we're friends already?" You grin.

"Why wouldn't we be?"

"Got me there."

Another awkward bite or two, and you peek over to see that Val is seriously outpacing you, even counting her larger portion. Somehow you manage to keep a poker face and attempt to restart the conversation. "So... Uh, I managed to spoil one of the reasons you wanted me to come over, but wasn't there another?" You ask, not certain how to address Val's confessed crush.

Val again has to swallow before speaking. "Honestly the crush was the big one," she giggles, and your heart again soars. Contrasting with her imposing physique, Val's voice is on the higher side and very girly. Her giggles immediately set you smiling. "But I have been in touch with who I think was your old ladyfriend cabal?"

Now it's your turn to down a bite of pasta before replying. "You mentioned Lena and Jen. How about Zoe and Vicky?"

"Vicky! I knew it was something with a V," Val snaps her fingers. "Well, lemme start from the beginning. Lena and I ran into each other at the mall a few months back. We wound up next to each other in line for a food stall and got to talking."

Val takes another small bite, "She's doing good. Got a biology degree, works at some sort of lab or a clinic these days? Could never really keep the details straight. We actually do little meal meetups pretty regularly, it's how I met - re-met? - the others."

You let Val continue as she counts off one-by-one on her fingers. "I'm not 100% on what Jen did after high school, but these days she works at her family's cafe. Zoe got some kind of business-related degree down in Novaville, and she does something with quality; still with Matt actually."

In spite of yourself you smirk. Sounds like the two teenage sweethearts are still treating each other right. Val doesn't notice your expression. "Vicky got an engineering degree, I forget where. She's always really busy but she loves her work."

"Geez," you exhale. "Now I feel like an asshole for not staying in touch."

"Hey, this is a way of staying in touch."

"Well how about yourself?" You ask.

Val's demeanor darkens a little bit. She pushes around a clump of pasta for a long moment before answering. "Well, I couldn't get a sports scholarship or an academic scholarship, and... well... the money situation wasn't great for a degree, so I started working pretty quick."

"No sports scholarship?" You blurt out, probably unwisely. "That's ridiculous!"

More pasta nudging before Val's sigh and reply. "I know. But it all worked out."

You feel a little warm under the collar. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Val fixes you with a small smile, "It's alright. Really. It sucks, it's unfair, but that's life. I got started as a personal trainer. Surprisingly lucrative, at least it was for me."

She finally spears a morsel and downs it before continuing, "Saved up some money, did some thinking, and started taking night classes for a finance associate's degree. I'm... doing ok for myself now."

Something tells you that Val is not a good keeper of secrets, but you don't pry. "What matters is that things worked out, right?"

"Yeah, haha. Got a nice place, made some new old friends, and now..." Val's eyes seem to glint in the evening light, "I've got my old teenage crush trapped in my lair." Her smile is toothy but lacks any real menace.

"Val, are you asking me out?" You laugh.

"I think we skipped that step," she retorts. "You are actually single, right?"

"Yeah," you reply a tad hesitantly. "Honestly all of this just... seems too easy? Too good to be true?"

"Sometimes nice things happen for no particular reason. You got lucky, the stars aligned from your perspective. Why overthink it?" Val breezily props her chin against her knuckles.

You need a moment to think about the conversation's turn, ironically enough.

"Speaking of thinking," Val interrupts your nascent internal monologue, "I think I could use some chocolate. You ready for dessert?"

"Sure," you answer, immediately moving to scarf down the last remnants in your bowl. Truthfully the rich pasta was more than satisfying, but you're presently very concerned with ingratiating yourself to Val.

She rises to her feet and strides across the dining area. You make sure to steal a glance at her toned backside as she walks, especially when she bends down and reaches into the fridge. Does she know you're staring?

The next moment you've snapped your gaze innocently forward again, and Val glides back to the table, depositing a neatly-arranged plate of brownies and two fresh glasses of milk.

"Made 'em today!" Val says brightly before scooping up one of the chocolaty bricks and taking a huge bite.

Weighed down by all the carbs and butter, your stomach gurgles uncomfortably at the sight. Still, you want to be a good guest, so you tear one of the brownies in half and sink your teeth in. It's admittedly fantastic - the cold temperature is refreshing and adds a nice feel of resistance to the fudgy matrix. The unmistakable smooth complexity of dark cacao sinks deeply into your gums and tongue as you chew - Val must have also sprung for primo ingredients here.

You're nibbling at the half-brownie, easing the treat into your belly, when you spot movement. Val's going for seconds. Or rather, seconds and thirds, alternating bites from fresh brownies in either hand.

Val catches your eye, and you must've made some sort of face, because she shoots you an impish chocolate-flecked smile. "What?" She chortles, "I'm a girl. This is chocolate. Do the math!"

Closing your eyes and putting on what you hope is a sage expression, you reply, "It's rude to comment on others' eating habits."

Val smirks back at you, then pops the last hunk of one brownie into her mouth and says around it, "Well what if I'd like you to comment on what I just ate?"

This throws you, but only for a moment. Was Val always this much of a trip? Evenly you reply, "Well, you're bigger than me and you look like you're still working out. It makes sense you'd have an appetite, though admittedly this isn't exactly performance food."

Val sucks some chocolate from her thumb then extracts the digit with a soft pop. Reaching for a fourth (!?) brownie, she replies, "That's because it obviously isn't!"

"Val, I'm confused. Where are you going with this?"

She gulps down a mouthful of chocolate and looses a quiet moan before bluntly addressing you, "Anon, I've been eating like this for the past three months."

Pieces, threads, bits of evidence, appear in your head and start floating around like some mental conspiracy board, but nothing's quite lining up. You think for a long moment. Even if Val had a ridiculous metabolism - not implausible, it'd match her powerful physique - three months of meals like this would surely stick something to her.

"You're pulling my leg."

"I promise you I'm not. And again," Val's face takes on a curious expression, "I'm directly asking you to comment on that fact." She then pauses her chocolate binge and poses gently, making sure to flex her arms and chest. With a half-eaten brownie in either hand, the net effect is incongruous and amusing.

"You're sure?"

"Yes!" with noticeable annoyance.

"Wow. Well," you start. "Three months of a heavy surplus and no fat gain seems... strange. Though you probably know way more about bodybuilding and macros and stuff than me."

"Anon," Val fixes you with a serious look. "This is also hard to believe, but I never paid attention to that stuff either. I just ate whatever, worked out, and got stronger. I have never done a proper bulk-and-cut cycle."

"Honestly? That sounds like the exact opposite of a problem."

"It's the entire problem!" Val almost yells but pulls herself back. "Anon, I... Haven't told many people this but - I like being strong, but I... I actually really, really want to be curvy."

"You want to get fatter?" Even to you, in this more enlightened place and time, the words feel surreal coming off of your lips.

"Fat? Heh," There's the merest glint of mania in Val's blue eyes. "I want to be huge."

She just laughs at your wordless staring reply.

"And that is the other actual reason I wanted to talk and catch up," Val explains. "I wanted to see if your old feeder magic still worked."

Ah shit, not that stupid rumor again.

"Val..." you groan, tiredly pinching the bridge of your nose. "This would be a lot for any day, and today was so fucking wild already..."

"I'm sorry... Should I drop it?"

"No," you groan again. "Just gimme a second to think."

You probably take over a minute before speaking again. "Ok, one thing at a time. Val, how long have you wanted to get fatter?"

Val dabs her mouth with a napkin. Aside from the specimen you tore in half, the brownies are all gone. She stifles a small burp, then puts on a pensive face and replies, "Honestly, probably for about as long as I can remember. I can't point to any specific experience or memory off the top of my head."

"Interesting. Now, on to this feeder business," Your tone hardens a bit. "I will not deny that I like bigger girls. That said, I did not feed or encourage any of the girls in my orbit to gain weight. Not Lena, not Zoe, not Vicky."

A pause, then with an authoritative upturned index finger, "I'll admit a sorta for Jen, but only because she was clearly underweight and trying to change that for a long time."

Val looks at you with an unreadable expression. Confusion coupled with interest? "Why the rumor then?"

"Damned if I know. Teenagers are awful. Maybe because I picked up the tab for sides or extra helpings once in a while? Maybe because I stuck up for my friends when dipshit jocks tried to bully them?"

Val seems to flinch at the "dipshit jocks" comment, then takes a long moment to digest this revelation. One of her hands is under the table, probably rubbing her belly. In spite of the moment and yourself you can't help but wonder how that washboard stomach looks when filled with huge meal. "So you're not actually a feeder, huh?" The disappointment in her voice is impossible to miss.

You nearly choke on your sip of milk. After recovering, you admit, "I could be? Er, I am? I... suppose I identify as one? On paper? Internally. But it's not something I've ever intentionally done. It... just feels like something intimate. Like something you should only do within a couple."

Val grins at you, "So what if we became a couple?" As she speaks, she reaches out and gently grips your hand. Sure enough, she's got some slight weight-lifter calluses, but her touch radiates nothing but tenderness, femininity, and desire.

Never mind your heart skipping a beat, your whole body seems to miss a few entire moments from sheer excitement.

"I'd like that," comes out of your smiling mouth with no conscious action, and your heart soars.

[agustdiv1ne]

Ahhhh congrats on 2K followers!! Absolutely deserved

For the drabble event, could you do Beomgyu, #083524, and angst? Curious to see what you’ll do, congrats again 🫶

hi sol!! thank youuu :) i’m so sorry for the long ass wait :(( but i hope you enjoy! 

wc: 690

warnings: fae!beomgyu, angsty moment, forbidden romance :,) 

asks are now closed

2k drabble masterlist | main masterlist

“you’re leaving?”

the edge of the forest serves as a wall between you and the fae boy in front of you. he can’t bear to look you in your eyes, instead pointing his gaze at the dark soil beneath his feet. though a mere few feet separate you, it feels like miles and miles. the affection that you once shared with the boy, the tender touches and sweet kisses you had shared under an oak in your backyard are distant memories in the moment.

tears prick your eyes at his lack of response. the distance between you grows wider. “you can’t even answer me? give me a reason? you weren’t even going to tell me! i had to hear it from your brother, beomgyu!”

he continues to stare at the ground, silent. the tears finally overflow, and you fail to muffle a choked sob. he finally looks up at you as you shut your eyes, refusing to look into his terribly beautiful eyes. “are you even going to say anything? or will you leave me with nothing?”  

“i’m sorry,” are the first words that pass his lips, his voice breaking in a way that drives a knife deep into your heart. “i’m so sorry, love. they, they found us. we have to go.”

your heart stops; you know exactly what he means by they. the ones who hunt and capture fae only to torture them until death is inevitable. the ones who roam your village with daggers laced with potent poison, that enter the forest and return carrying a beaten and bloodied fae with absolutely no remorse. they run your village with venomous threats and an iron fist.

“why didn’t you tell me?” you question, finally staring up at him with hurt coloring your features.

“because i knew it would hurt you!” he finally explodes. the world stops as you both stare at each other, the chirping of birds and the rustle of trees the only thing that rushes through your ears. he takes a step towards your trembling form, dead leaves crunching beneath his feet. you remain still, still staring at him.

“you know i’d never willingly leave you,” he says in a low voice. “we have no choice but to flee.”

“could, could i come with you?” you ask weakly, a tremble in your voice that you can’t find it in yourself to mask, but you both know the answer to your question.

he shakes his head. “you know that you can’t. no one knows besides my brother — we are forbidden to be together. the elders would kill you, and i refuse to allow that.”

you gulp, before you cross into the forest, cross into his domain. you stop before him as you take a deep breath. “i understand.”

you watch as he crumbles before you, collapsing to his knees in a heap of sobs. you fall to your own as your arms wrap around his quaking form, his tears soaking your shirt. your thumbs wipe them away as you force him to look at you.

“i understand,” you murmur through your own tear-stained vision. “and maybe one day our love will be accepted, but that is not now. go, be safe, stay alive, and i will see you again someday, okay? i need you to stay alive for me.”

he nods, his bottom lip trembling as he attempts to keep more tears at bay. “i promise, love. i will live and i will come back for you. there is nothing more that i wish to do.”

you smile despite it all, rising to your feet with him. your lips meet his one last time before you gently push him towards the forest.

“i love you,” you breathe, your chest collapsing into itself as he takes another step deeper into the forest.

“i love you.” it’s not a goodbye, but it feels like one. a tearful smile slips onto your face, and you nod. he nods back, finally turning away from you to walk deeper into the forest.

you watch him until his form disappears behind the trees, hoping that one day the world will be different.

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[yezielmoore]

3. Temper

Will you ever let go of the Titan questline? I ask myself sometimes. And then I remember the old line of quests and the answes is, as always, NEVER.

Anyway, have more Athene.

.-,-.

“You have quite the temper,” Y’shtola commented and handed her a plate of the food she had collected herself for this farce of a banquet. She briefly considered launching the offending meal to Wheiskaet head, but her mother’s lectures on not wasting food stayed her hand. “I didn’t expect that.”

Athene picked a piece of the stinking goblin cheese and popped it in her mouth. Mmm. Not bad. Undoubtedly weird, with an interesting texture, but at least its taste was nothing like its smell. 

“You’re not the first one to say that,” she offered the plate to Y’shtola who wrinkled her nose and shook her head. Athene shrugged. More for her. “I forgot I could get that angry,” she confided. “Exasperated, yes, always; but rare is the situation that would merit this kind of anger back home.”

Not that sharlayans were half as calm as they liked to pretend to the rest of the world. However, there was a difference between a heated debate or disagreement and exploding at someone in a fit of (justified) rage. 

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Y’shtola deflected, trail lashing out playfully behind her as she primly took a sip of her wine. 

Athene snorted and almost choked on a hors d'oeuvre. “Not everyone is like Master Matoya,” she managed to say between coughs. 

And thank Thaliak for that. If even a fraction of the stories about Master Matoya were true, the island would’ve probably sunk back into the sea out of sheer self-preservation. 

Athene contemplated her own cup of wine and looked back at these past few days of running errands and doing ridiculous chores, all while feeling the weight of the lives already lost to Titan’s summoning and those who would soon be lost if the Primal wasn’t stopped. Athene understood cautiousness, she was a scholar at heart, but there was cautiousness and then there was being cowardly. 

“My mother used to call me her little wildfire and for years I never understood why," Athene confided, feeling intensely homesick all of the sudden. She leaned back and looked at the horizon, wondered if her mother was home or if she was on another trip looking to fill another endless list. "It’s not like I was a loud or angry child. Although I may have been an angry toddler, who knows?” 

Athene looked back at Y'shtola and smiled ruefully. “And then, one day, someone said something stupid and inconsequential and years of accumulated and simmering anger just… exploded in their face."

Y'shtola blinked in surprise, mouth slightly parted. It was the most disarmed she had seen the miqo'te be since meeting her. "Truly?"

Athene giggled and nodded, finally feeling the last of her anger settle and go quiet. She'd have to meditate later, find out where all that rage came from and deal with it, because Wheiskaet was merely the unlucky idiot that threw a lit match to a ground that was already smoldering under the surface.

"The looks on everyone's faces were exactly like yours right now," Athene commented and was delighted to see a blush spread across her face.

Y'shtola turned her head slightly to the side and raised her glass of wine, hiding mist of her expression in one smooth movement. 

"I certainly have no inkling as to what you mean," she said dismissively, but the slight upturn of her lips betrayed her fondness. "Now, maybe we should hurry this little get together. Time is of the essence, after all."

The gentle reminder of why they were in Costa del Sol sobered Athene quickly. 

“Yes, lets.”

[gear-project]

Can Jack-O' age? Also same question for the valentines. And how much old can a gear get, since I started thinking that I dunno maybe Ky will die of old age first than Dizzy. Very curious

Oh, this is a VERY INTERESTING question!

Okay, as far as we know, most biologically born Gears (like Dizzy, Sin, etc) grow to maturity at an accelerated rate… however, like Sol… they stop physically aging after a certain point in their lives.

It's implied, based on Lars Canyon, that when a Gear is killed (their core is ruptured, basically) that the magic they held in their bodies is dispersed and they decay… leaving behind a skeleton with a crystal-like core inside it.

But what happens when a Gear's core doesn't get ruptured?

So long as the Magic Core inside them acts as a "conduit" to the Backyard's energy, and so long as they have some Magic Information Capacity… they won't age… effectively being immortal as far as we know.

Rather, they are only "immortal" so long as that Magic Capacity is sustained.

This, of course, leaves room for speculation on how long a Gear can sustain Magic Information in its body. Gear Cells are considered a "fixed point" extracted from physical space... meaning they can't be broken, only filled beyond capacity.

We know that Anti-Matter Gears are the result of Gears absorbing an excessive amount of Magic Information that flips their physical data, turning them in to Anti-Matter (effectively causing them to explode).

But just like the physical energy we get from eating food or taking in nutrients, that energy has to go somewhere... so at some point Magic has to be dispersed, right?

Rather, it's BECAUSE Gears are "conduits" that they do not die. The Magic flows inside of them and back in to Backyard space... kind of like a flowing river or aqueduct. Just as blood gets pumped from the heart to vessels and then back in to the heart.

"Aging" is the state when a living beings genes and cells start to break down from all the wear and tear, but so long as that state is constantly being renewed, restored, and refueled, there is no "aging" state.

Magic is the lifeblood of Gears, in essence, then. So long as they have it, they can function, even in a state of hibernation or stasis (like the Hydra, a Gear that existed sealed away for nearly 60 years or more).

A Valentine's body is derived from Gear Cells, much the same as any other typical Gear, so the same concept applies to them.

While they don't have the same Magic Capacity as Justice did, their Magic capacity is still very high compared to humans, even to the point they can still temporarily exist in Backyard space.

Still, what made Jack-O' virtually indestructible was the Scales of Juno Seed that was planted in her body, much like the Flame of Corruption Seed in Sol Badguy.

The Divine Seed basically "enhanced" the power and efficacy of the Gear Cells in Jack-O's body... so even if she got scratched or wounded, her wounds would never be truly fatal and she would heal at an accelerated rate, so long as her core (which contained the Seed) was never damaged.

If Magic overloads a Gear's body, they can still be damaged to the point of incapacitation... like when Dizzy used her power to knock out Justice at the Central Organ Tower (Xrd events).

Gear Cells (even inside Low Level Gears) can still take damage, so the "appearance" of Age (wear and tear) is still possible over a very long time period.... but at most it will only "slowly" impede a Gear's functions if they are not restored or regenerated.

Basically that means that a Gear can still get scars and wounds or even discoloration in body hair or skin, but it would take a VERY long time for such to happen, if at all... and only if Magic was scarce for the Gear to absorb.

I would sooner expect the Backyard itself to run out of Magic before a full-body Gear would die of natural causes.

But, in the case of Humans that have taken in "partial grafting" of Gear Cells (like Ky has)... their human parts would likely decay sooner than any Gear Cells taken in their body... at least until the Gear cells completely over-wrote their body structure.

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Bad dealings.

Warnings: not much really. Maybe some swearing and soft Miguel.

WC: 1501.

Enjoy x

You drove the car past the Welcome to Santo Padre sign and you took a deep breath looking out your window at the road just concentrating on getting to the hospital and limit any sightings of you. You couldn’t believe you were back here; you flew out of Mexico to Arizona almost 12 months ago with promises to yourself that you would never be back here, but your Dad fell ill and your Mum needed you. Your cousins helped you disappear after they almost killed you when they found out how deep you had gotten.

You had finished high school and went straight into working in the mayor’s office and worked your way up to the mayor’s personal assistant. Your life had been fine until Miguel Galindo walked into the office and your whole world changed after that very first encounter, which then lead to you sleeping with him after his divorce, to you leaking information to him, not because he asked but because you were falling in love with the cartel boss and you wanted to see him happy and for all his plans to go ahead and be ahead of every move.

You were busted when you had taken some photos of classified paper work in Antonia’s office and instead of sending them to Miguel’s email, you sent it to the deputy mayor’s assistant addressed to Miguel with a seductive photo also attached. The assistant leaked the email, the whole situation exploding in your face, you being threatened with illegal action and you had to get out as soon as you could. You couldn’t even walk down the street and not get nasty words thrown at you.

Angel and Ez turned up at your place when they saw the paper, asking you what you needed, after them telling you off for jumping into bed with Miguel in the first place. They organised everything for you, like amazing older cousins do. Your parents went to stay with their Dad for a bit and the boys helped you get under the boarder through the clubs tunnels to the Mexico airport with new hair, a new name, a new phone number, a house that had been rented and you started a new life leaving everything behind, including your deep feelings for Miguel and the guilt of walking away and not telling him you had left.

You pulled up in the hospital car park, slipping on your sunglasses and walking inside to find your Dad. As you walked through the halls you rounded a corner to a long hall way of rooms and came face to face with Angel in Nestor’s face, Gilly trying to pull a yelling Angel back who had his fist raised,

“She’s going to come back, its her Dad and when she does you tell me” Nestor snarled in Angel’s face. Angel went to throw his hand forward and your voice rang out through the hallway,

“Angel, stop” You shouted.

Everyone’s head turned to look at you. Nestor’s eye blew open when he seen you and Angel stepped back, walking towards you, his arm going around your neck and leading down the opposite way towards your Dad’s room,

“Nice to see you cuz” Angel kissed the top of your head “You do realise Galindo’s bulldog has seen you, he’ll find out your back”

“I’ am here for 4 days, to see Dad and leave. He won’t know where I’ am staying anyway”

“You wish mami, you know what he’s like. He’ll find you. He’s Miguel fucking Galindo and your the first women that ever risked her freedom the way you did for him. So stupid. ”

“Yeah, yeah” you rolled your eyes “We going to talk about it every time I see you?”

“Probably, yeah” Angel laughed kissing your forehead.

It was best that you staid in the next town over in a hotel in the out skirts. You didn’t want to risk getting seen, it being reported back to Antonia that you were in town and start that whole nightmare again. You had ordered room service once you got back from the hospital and showered, when there was a knock on the door you thought that’s what it was, your food. But when you swung it open, a range of different emotions charged through you.

Miguel looked back to you, looking just liked you remembered, smelling just how you remembered, his hair and beard perfect as ever and his suit just as well fitting as what they used to be. You wanted nothing more than to jump on him, kiss him, feel him against you. But his face and eyes were cold, so you just gave him a small smile, moving out of the way and gesturing for him to come into your room. You took a deep breath closing the door behind you after shooting Nestor a dirty look, who was sitting in the car outside. You turned to Miguel sitting on the end of your bed,

“Did Nestor follow me here?”

“You left” Miguel looked up at you, his eye’s starting to tear up “You left and you didn’t tell me. I couldn't find you, I didn’t know where you had gone, if you were ok. You left me. I would have helped you get through it; I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you”

“Miguel” you took a step closer to him and he held up his hand to stop you and you froze looking down at your feet tears running down your cheeks.

“You didn’t trust me to look after you?” Miguel looked up, his face like stone but hurt in his eyes.

“It was my fault; I never should have done what I did. You could have done it on your own. You didn’t need my help. I let my heart take over and done something really stupid that will follow me around for the rest of my life” you sniffed.

“I would have protected you, mi sol” Miguel muttered shaking his head.

Your heart hurt hearing your pet name. You walked over to him, getting down on your knees in front him, you reached up slowly, your hands going to rest on his cheeks. The feel of his beard on your palms sending goose bumps all over you. Miguel was stiff at your touch at first till you lent onto his legs and he sighed into you, his hands going on top of yours, his forehead resting on yours and he started to cry. You pulled your hands away, pushing his legs apart, crawling forward between them and throwing your arms around him pulling him into you.

One of your hands rubbed over his back, your other rested on the back of his head and you covered the other side of his face in kisses. Miguel brought his arms around you, hugging you tightly. His solid chest pressed into you and you started to sob, Miguel’s tears free flowing down his cheeks as well. You both staid like that for a long moment, crying in each other’s arms. You pulled back looking up into Miguel red face, his hand moving onto your cheek, his thumb brushing the tears away and his other moving to rest on your shoulder,

“Where did you go?”

“Arizona” you cleared your throat “Angel and Ez got me over the border and I flew out of Mexico”

Miguel reached for both your hands to pull you up off the floor and guided you to sit on the bed. He snaked an arm around you pulling you into him and you rested a hand on his thigh.

“I checked all flights, for weeks. Your name wasn’t on any”

“Victora Pérez” you gave him a half smile and Miguel nodded back sucking in his lips “Miguel, I’ am so sorry. I should have told you, should have called you to tell you I was ok”

“That you were alive” Miguel shot back and locked eyes with you.

You took a deep breath, both your eyes searching each other’s. You both started to move towards each other, your lips meeting, fitting together so perfectly. You both sighed into each other’s mouth’s. You slid your hand’s up over Miguel’s jacket and stopped to sit on his shoulders and Miguel’s hands threaded into your hair, the kiss deepening. Miguel broke the kiss, kissing your cheek twice and his finger nails scraping over your sculp affectionally,

“I missed you” you whispered.

“It almost killed me, you not being here. You leaving me. Every day I searched somewhere new, finding nothing. When Nestor walked in telling me he had seen you” Miguel paused looking down shaking his head, emotion filling him again “Come home, come back to me”

“Miguel, I can’t. After everything. How can I start over here again?”

“With me. Together. Amor, we will make it work. I’ll sort it out. I’ll handle it”

“What does that mean?”

“Please Y/N, trust me on this. Come home to me mi sol, please.”

 Tags: @beccabarba @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @alwaysachorusgirl

[utilitycaster]

Wizard Breakdown Tracker #3, episode 133

Greetings and salutations to the exercise I have set upon myself, which is to say deciding the relative mental stability of Wizard NPCs who have been subjected to the Mighty Nein. My intent is to do this at least until Trent Ikithon has fucked off this mortal coil and/or been thoroughly deposed and humiliated.

As a reminder Caleb Widogast is a member of the Mighty Nein and a PC and therefore excluded from these calculations. Wizards who haven’t been seen or heard from lately and about whom I don’t have anything funny to say about will not get a full blurb, but as they re-enter the main narrative so will they re-enter the list. Currently, this is the Essek Thelyss Show ft. Trent and the Volstruckers with guest appearances by Yussa and Allura.

Currently sidelined: Oremid Hass, Known Gem Wizard Hotsauce Lutefisk (I am going to reuse this stupid joke name for him until it doesn’t make me laugh at my own joke anymore, which will probably be never), Pumat Sol (who I hope is having a great day), Ludinus Da’leth (who I hope is not but in true laissez-faire rat bastard form, probably is).

Vess D wasn’t there/morning time in Eiselcross or at her job or anywhere/they snuck in and took her life/and we noticed that her spellbook’s gone and that she’s covered in red eyes.

Trent Ikithon: Okay with the caveat that it’s been a very long time since I saw the entire movie and our only update is Artagan taking a moment from his busy schedule of traveling the globe in the direction of the sun such that he is always technically day-drinking to tell Jester that Trent’s biding his time, I’m getting real Disney Hunchback of Notre Dame Frollo vibes. Except instead of Catholicism and lust, it’s nationalism and an unquenchable thirst for power and control, and also he does not feel guilty in the slightest. He’s not at Hellfire levels yet but he will get there and I am slightly disappointed that due to the constraints of a D&D game we do not get an even more fucked up version of the song Hellfire.

Conclusion: 6/10. Slowly stepping it up. Also here’s the great thing: while we know Caleb is going to come after him next, he doesn’t, and the Nein didn’t tell any world governments about the threat of the city unless you count the Tal’Dorei Council via Allura, which means for all intents and purposes they just disappeared into Eiselcross...except Trent also knows Caleb disappeared for five or six years once before and reports of his death were greatly exaggerated. If Caleb weren’t dedicated to the noble goal of ending the Volstrucker program ASAP, he could just chill for a year or so and then pull a really stellar Surprise Bitch move and maybe just get Trent’s heart to explode.

Essek Thelyss: He got a good night’s trance and weird physical affection from a giant ape Caleb and he was healed by Caduceus and he had a serious conversation with the first true peer and one of the first friends he’s ever known about how high-level wizardry may not necessarily corrupt absolutely. And, of course, soup. I mean they are about to head into a terrible battle but he’s at full health and spells and he’s a valued member of the team and his friends love him SO MUCH.

Conclusion: 5/10. There is a distinction between a breakdown and being in a very high pressure situation, and he got some nice moments of respite this week. With that said do I think that post-battle, should he survive (HE BETTER) a whole lot of anxiety will come crashing back? Yeah.

Astrid Beck: With Trent in a holding pattern he’s got to be turning up the mind games on her; I have to imagine he suspects and then she suspects that he suspects and it’s a whole mess, but I’ve said that already. But also just like, in general, I think her speech to Caleb back when he first contacted her was genuine in many ways and specifically I think she was likely to have been Trent’s New Golden Child and then suddenly that got yanked out from under her for still more mind games; I think her difference in demeanor between that meeting and the dinner was partially Trent being present, but partially her having realized in the interim that she will likely never have anything to show for two decades of pain and doing terrible things and nonstop bullshit.

Conclusion: still keeping her at 8/10 until further notice but like. Astrid’s having a bad time.

Um actually Eadwulf is the monster? The hero’s name is Grendel: Okay meanwhile here’s my totally unsupported Eadwulf headcanon of this week which is that he meanwhile always knew he was not the favorite and probably never would be and while I doubt he ever had particularly noble goals I would not be surprised if he had an exit strategy. Personally I hope he tries card-counting in that casino in Ank’harel and gets kicked out posthaste and then tries being a wizard/some kind of divine caster multiclass in Vasselheim and also gets kicked out but finally becomes like an old-school hermit figure somewhere in the woods of Issylra and Campaign 3′s party runs into him.

Conclusion: also keeping him at 4/10 until further notice.

Allura Vyesoren: It’s time to acknowledge that this episode covered a span of like...8 hours? And presuming the Nein are sort of trying to keep a normal sleep schedule, maybe, and using a comparison of Eiselcross being at a comparable time zone to say, Nicodranas, and it’s 5 hours into the night for them, and we know that around mid-day for Nicodranas was early morning for Emon...honestly she’s probably relaxing with a glass of wine. Unless Wensforth contacted her.

Conclusion: I’m going to let Allura have a good day. She’s at 2/10 because the threat of Aeor will be in the back of her mind but also she’s seen a bunch of idiots kill dragons and Vecna and they didn’t even have a wizard.

Yussa Errenis: Experiencing a great disturbance in the Astral Sea, as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and then just like, kept doing that.

Conclusion: I decided to really go all out last week on the infinity jokes and left myself nothing to go on, huh. Anyway this breakdown goes to 11 (out of 10).

[momenacesage]

your love has bloomed the garden in my mind

today i offer you this drabble, tomorrow,, who knows!

When Sol opens her eyes, she finds herself placated by the intense stare of the other that she held nestled in the rapture of her arms. Awaking in the darkness, the slow trickle of street lamps and drunken fellows stumbling to make their way home caresses the slightly open window frame. The side effects of a bustling night life are going generally unnoticed by the frozen girl. She feels like she’s stuck in quick sand - slowly being dragged down as she falls deeper and deeper into her best friends eyes. She let out a slow breath, trying to remind herself that this was still possible, she was still alive. Even as the girl beside her chose to tear out the breath from her lungs with metaphorical teeth. Looking up to her, half drunk still. It was the only reason that Sol could give to justify Jiwan’s flushed cheeks. Maybe she was drunk too. Finger weaving out of the press that had formed through their bodies. Choosing to settle into the warmth; pressing across the lines of the others face. They’d remain in silence. Simply drinking in the actions, the comfortable movements that settle matches into the pit of her stomach. Threatening to explode with the click of a finger - or if Jiwan would choose to look at her that way again. She’d promised herself that she would stop playing into this game. The feeling would initially bowl her over her own feet. Feeling like she was thrown upwards, tossed to fall on her head - out of control of the situation. Theres a very special smile that her best friend throws out when she’s absolutely ecstatic about something. These days, it seems like Sol is the only one who finds themselves on the receiving end of those looks. It first happened when they both gained entrance to their current school. Jiwan would take her hand, ready to dance, do something, scream at the top of her lungs with excitement. Instead, it would slowly crawl across her face as if she know exactly what she was doing. Seo Jiwan was an enchantress. It was confirmed. She’d flee from her friend, ready to phone her parents to share the happy news. But Sol would be stuck, frozen in the same position to when she first saw that smile. She’d been ran ragged; ready to admit that she’d experienced a heart attack, why was her heart feeling like that. Her heart was ready to jump out of her chest and run straight after the young woman. For a second or two, as she lay beside the one person who often took centre stage in her best dreams - Sol would forget why she chose to force those feelings into the dark. She’d let herself fall a few feet deeper into eternity. Sol had been good, she’d been great in fact. Maybe she was allowed to make a mistake or two, maybe that look in Jiwan’s eyes was familiar for a reason, maybe she was feeling something that Sol had gained plenty of experience in. “Why didn’t you let me kiss you?” The words spring a visceral reaction and Sol has to force herself to stop from allowing her eyes to widen further. She was surprised, shocked, even though this had been the only thought that had played on her mind throughout the whole night. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured, they were all watching.” Sol feels the pressure of her smaller arms wrap around her shoulders, curving her spine up from the bed so that Jiwan could awkwardly tuck her head against her own. It felt secretive, as if these coming words were only for them. Sending internal middle fingers to whoever may be listening in on their late night discussion. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while.” She’ll sag, like the woman had unconsciously built up tension through what felt like a century of pining. Of looking but not touching, that wasn’t allowed. Instead, she’d find herself sitting complacent - monotonous as she tries to build up a mask of happiness as Jiwan left to meet man after man. That evil, little inner voice whispering coyly into her ear, reminding her that she would never have that. So instead, this would have to be enough. “I still want to kiss you.” She’s taken charge, manipulating Sol’s body like a doll who enjoys

playtime. She’s loose, malleable to whatever Jiwan wants of her. She silently waits, still unsure if this was real or some cruel game that her brain was playing on her. Seo Jiwan looks determined. And in a sense, this puts Sol’s mind at ease. Her tongue darting out to press more moisture onto her lips after they suddenly dried. Seemingly, she was not the only person who had come across this specific scenario before. Sol would force herself away from the questions that turned into darts when attempting to penetrate her brain. Sharp and painful in their nature as they niggle at the calmness of the situation. She was allowed to be in the moment for once. She didn’t have to constantly overthink everything. The woman wasnt forced to make a decision after all. The multitudes of spider webs permeating Sol’s brain would scatter into nothingness with the touch of Jiwan’s hand on her cheek. Her eyes quickly redirecting to hers as Jiwan chuckles to herself, slowly dragging their lips together like she was trying to approach a deer in headlights. It just fits. The only phrase that floats into existence through the blank slate that had been created. Jiwan’s hands become needier, cradling her jaw like it was some precious new discovery that could crack with the slightest accidental movement. Before this point, Sol felt like if she touched her best friend - the woman would shrivel into dust. Just another fragment of her imagination; but this was different. Sol will wrestle her hands up to the backs of the. Others shoulders clenching fingers into the fabric of her shirt as she falls deeper still. Unbashfully, she’ll groan into the other young woman’s mouth. Greedy as her sensations light up like a sparkler in the dark - unconsciously noting down the way that Jiwan’s leg tangles against her own. Staying connected in this way even when they break away, and the woman tucks away a fly away hair behind Sol’s ear. This time, she’ll join in. Her grin feels like its trying to split open the sides of her head. Opening it wide so that a tiny Seo Jiwan clone can climb inside. It’s as if Seo Jiwan hasn’t already been the only thing she thinks about. When she tucks her best friend back into the crook of her arm, Jiwan will whisper, her words falling like petals against her ear lobe. “Will you let me kiss you again?” “Definitely.” In the morning, Sol will be subjected to weekly critiques. Their professor surveying the work, placing a finger against pursed lips to fully understand the majesty of the wide painting. It was a different medium to the one that the young woman usually favoured. Justifying the sudden shift as an initial visualisation - she was planning. A sculpture would come along soon. “It’s spray of colours are full of passion. The large strokes remind me of love,” she’d turn, “am I correct? Were you thinking about someone that you love when painting, Sol?” Sol would allow her eyes to trail away; Jiwan encompassing the corner of her vision. “Yes. Something like that.”

[glitxhwayventeen]

Lonely Hearts Club

Seokmin: Chapter 2 (The Heart Wants What It Wants)

Characters: Seokmin x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), bondage (sort of anyways?), pet names, creampie, squirting, dirty talk, angst, fluff, potential blood mentions, genocide mentions, mental illness (depression implied), sexual mentions, mentions of death, violence mentions. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: I had the thought to use the song The Heart Wants What It Wants by Selena Gomez for this chapter. Don’t ask me why. I just did. And I’m too sick to change it so here it is.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

Slight 🥀 but mostly just pure 💋tbh

Lonely Hearts Club Master Club

Chapter 2: The Heart Wants What It Wants

“Come on Sol! Hurry up! By the time we get there it’ll be dark!” Seokmin complained to the younger wolf, wanting to reach their destination as quickly as possible.

“Aya! I’m moving as fast as I can. You ever think that maybe you’re just a little TOO excited to go see her?” Hansol smirked as he sped up his movements slightly to appease his brother.

It was true, they both knew it. Hell, at this point, Seokmin was sure you’d even realize that he had been counting the seconds before he could come see you again. It had been five days. FIVE DAYS. He felt like he was going crazy without you. His pack tried to cheer him up as best as they could, Jihoon even asked if he wanted to wrestle around outside with him, something Jihoon had hated more than anything. But still, he wanted to do nothing other than sit in front of the window and wait the minutes out till he could see your beautiful face again. Since he met you, he’s never wanted anything more than to spend time with you. And you being gone… well that made it impossible. So you could say he was just a TAD too eager to get back to you…

“Shut up and just- just hurry up would you!” Seokmin growled, slightly out of annoyance that the younger wolf was taunting him and slightly because he had been taking away his newly promised time with you.

It was bad enough he had him carry all the supplies he needed in his backpack, now he was slowing him down too. It was exhausting.

“Geez, you sure are grumpy now. What’s gotten a mate done to you hyung?” Hansol chuckled gently while poking fun at his brother innocently, knowing full well that he was actually being quite tame compared to what most mated wolves would’ve done without seeing their significant other for as long as he had.

“Nothing! I just- I just want to see her is all! You don’t understand. You don’t have a mate yet!” Seokmin groaned while hiking his way up the start of the mountain your cave was located in. He didn’t even have to try to remember how to get there like Hansol did, he could sense you, it was one of the reasons he agreed to bring him along even though he knew it was most likely annoy you.

“Pfff. You’ve had a mate all of five minutes and you’re already acting like you’re a love expert. You’re a piece of work you know that? I didn’t even have to let you come with me today. I fought with Seungcheol Hyung to get him to let you tag along. Don’t make me regret it yeah?” Hansol rolled his eyes, trudging along right behind his older impatient brother. He felt for him, he really did. He couldn’t imagine what he’d do in his situation, but he wasn’t about to let Seokmin be a dick to him just because he hasn’t seen you in a week. Surely it couldn’t be THAT hard for him to be less of an asshole.

“Look- I’m sorry okay? I just…” Seokmin halted his actions of climbing up a rocky trail before he turned to his friend, “Its bad enough she doesn’t love me. But with her not loving me AND being gone for almost a week, it feels like- like all my insides have been scooped out and… and I can’t find them anymore. I feel like an empty shell.” He continued, “But I know that if I could just- if I could just see her again, all of it would just heal over and I’d be happy to wake up in the morning again. So I NEED to see her, okay?” Seokmin gripped his hair tightly, partly in frustration and partially in defeat.

He wasn’t even sure what would happen when you’d see him again. You could really just slap him and tell him you never wanted him in your presence again. But he HAD to try, he NEEDED to smell your sweet scent again. He HAD to look at your angelic face again. He felt like he was gonna explode if he didn’t.

“I don’t know what’ll happened if I don’t. And trust me when I say, you don’t want to find out.” He finished as he started his trekking back up, leaving his brother taken aback by his sudden exposed fragility.

“It’s okay. I get it, I mean, I may not have a mate, but I’m not an idiot. We can all see how it’s killing you not to be around her man. She’ll come around. Don’t worry. It all just takes some time. Especially after everything that’s happened to her.” Hansol assured as he sat his hand on Seokmin’s shoulder in a comforting manner, causing the older wolf to smile at him in gratitude.

“Thanks Sol. I hope you’re right. Because I’m gonna start worrying for my sanity if so have to wait much-” Seokmin suddenly stopped speaking mid-sentence once he sensed that something was… different about you as they had gotten close enough to your den for him to feel you.

“Hyung? You good? Is everything alright-” Hansol tried while waving his hand in front of his brother’s zoned out face.

Seokmin quickly grabbed his hand and pushed it away before growling, “You need to leave.”

“Leave? What do you mean leave? We have to check on (Y/N) remember?” Hansol laughed aloud, attempting to start his walking back up.

Seokmin wraps his hand around Hansol’s wrist and spun him around to look at him.

“No. I’ll check on her. You need to go back to the house and make sure no one else comes up here. Got it?” He lets out, tightening his grip on the young boys arm without even realizing it.

“Seokmin, what the hell? Why on Earth would I do that? I have to help her-” Hansol tried to reason and attempted to break the hold he had on his wrist.

When Hansol met Seokmin’s eyes, he could see that they had turned blood red. He jumped back slightly, startled at his brother’s sudden mood shift.

“No. I’m the only one that’s allowed to help her the way she is. You need to leave. Now.” He growled as he released his hand from Hansol’s limb and started to continue walking to your den.

“And DON’T wait up for me.” He declared to the younger wolf, leaving him standing there stunned in his spot as he watched him stomp up towards the cave’s opening.

-

You had been pulling and pulling to no avail. You needed out. You felt like you were a living flame that needed to be put out. You moved your hips a little too quickly one way, causing a small whimper to emit from your lips. You were too fucking sensitive. Everything hurt.

“And you didn’t think to tell me that this-” Seokmin surprised you as he gestured around your cave, “Was your important business?” He chuckled out as he knelt down beside you.

Before he walked into your cave, he could already feel the change in your energy, he wasn’t sure what it was exactly. But he just knew he didn’t want ANYONE ELSE but him to see you in your current state. Red flags went off in his head the second Hansol stepped even one foot too close to the vicinity of your cave. He got territorial without even knowing why he didn’t want anyone else around you.

Now that he had actually entered your cave, he understood why. You were against the farthest rock wall from the opening. You were wearing nothing but your small green tank top and a pair of lacy panties. Your hair was damp against your skin, your lips were chapped, and you had a thin layer of sweat adorned on your glowing skin. You were growling out in frustration. Chains laid above your head, your wrists tightly held in place as you winced in pain. Not from trying to get out of your restraints, but from the obvious discomfort between your legs. Your panties had, at this point, been completely soaked through, the wetness clear to anyone who would have dared to witness your display.

That’s when he understood why you had been trying so hard to get away from him: you were in heat. You needed to run away so you wouldn’t go crazy around his pack. So you came back to your den to ride it out. Alone. Even though you had a mate.

“I thought you would’ve figured it out by now” you respond, lolling your head to the side from exhaustion with a seductive smirk on your face. Heat was truly fucking horrible chained to a wall. And now that Seokmin was here, it was like the Gods had finally answered your prayers for release. You HAD to have him and you had to have him right then and there.

“Help me- Please!” you whined out, tugging on your chains hard hoping he would get what you were hinting at.

“I don’t think taking them off you is a good idea. Who knows what you’d do” Seokmin replied before he took off his pack and pulled a rag out from the biggest pocket.

He drenched it in one of your buckets of water and placed it on your scorching head, you hissed at the feeling of something so cold having touched your flaming skin.

You let out a dry chuckle before responding, “You. I’d do you. Now help me out of these. Please.” You begged, eyes turning emerald green at the thought of finally getting your neediness taken care of by the man in front of you.

“(Y/N)- I- I don’t think you understand what you’re asking.” He attempted to reason with you, trying his absolute best to remain unaffected by your current state.

But it was hard. You were half naked, chained to the wall in heat, pleading with him to help you. And God, did he want to help you. Every instinct in him was telling him to ravage you and make you his.

“I know exactly what I’m asking you to do. Please Seokmin- It hurts! Please take my pain away. Please!” You groaned out as you shook your chains in impatience, “Don’t you want to help me?” You questioned him with an innocence face, but your eyes couldn’t have been more dirty. Fuck. You were gonna kill him with that mischievous little glint in your eyes.

“I- I do. But I cant. (Y/N), you’ll regret it if I help you that way. The best I can do is-” His sentence broke as you rubbed your foot against the crotch of his jeans, causing a cut off hiss to expel from his lips, “Is- is help you ride it out by taking care of your symptoms.” He stuttered as he denied you, it was taking everything he had to hold himself back from attacking your lips. You were making everything EXTREMELY hard for him. Literally.

But he knew you’d be upset with him if he did what you wanted him to do right now. He’d be taking advantage of your vulnerable state. That’s not how he wanted his first time with you to go. Or anytime with you for that matter. He wanted you to be fully aware of what would be happening and he wanted you to be glad it was taking place because you loved him, not because you were a sex crazed animal in the middle of mating season.

Tears started to form in your eyes and began to slide down your cheeks. You couldn’t take it anymore. He was right there, and touching you, but not in the place you needed him most. It was killing you. The ache between your legs was getting to be too much for you to bare.

“PLEASE SEOKMIN PLEASE! I can’t take this anymore! You’re so close but you’re too far away. I want you to take care of me. Please!” You wailed out, thrashing yourself around as you tried to find some stimulation, hell, ANY stimulation you could get to rub against your heat.

“(Y/N), I can’t. You’re just saying that because you’re going through your mating cycle. If you were thinking normally, you would probably have already pushed me out of your den by now. You don’t want me, you want your pain to go away. And that’s not reason enough for me to break, I’m sorry. ” Seokmin spoke softly, upset that he had to speak his reality into existence.

He wanted you to want him, but he knew that normal you didn’t. Hormone you only wanted him to scratch an itch for you. And as much as his inner wolf was pleading with him to heed to your request, he couldn’t. Not if it meant you’d hate him more afterwards.

“You think I don’t normally want you? Do you know how hard it is to stay away from you? Do you even know what it takes to be as cold towards you as I am? It kills me. I want to be sitting in your lap all the god damn time for fucksakes. All I want to do is get on my knees for you 24 hours of the fucking day and suck your soul out. I want you to hold me down on a bed and fuck the living daylights out of me. I want you to pound me so hard all I know is your name. But it’s just my natural instinct to resist you after everything that’s happened. But PLEASE, I can’t take this anymore. I want you to help me. I NEED you to help me. Please Seokmin?” You yelled out to get his attention with one final plea, looking at him with watery red eyes and a pushed out lip.

He stared you deep in the eyes as he debated what to do. On one hand, he didn’t want you to be remorseful over this. But on the other hand, his cock was already scrapping his jeans because of how aroused your current state had made him. You were ducking dripping onto the cave floor and it was all because of him. It was all FOR him. Oh, fuck it.

He quickly attached his chapped lips to your near bloody ones from biting them to suppress groans, feverishly moving his in an effort to make up for lost time. You whimpered into his mouth and tugged on your restraints, showing him that you wanted them off. He gave you a dirty smirk before he grabbed the key setting juuuust out of your reach and unlocked your chains. Once free, you all but threw yourself at Seokmin, smashing your lips back onto his like your life depended on it. You were gripping his hair roughly while forcing your mouth to his with such force, you could feel your teeth clashing. You had to have him touch you more, you NEEDED him to touch you more.

He stood the both of you up and rid you of your shirt and panties in a flash. Soon, his own articles of clothing were gone and, before you knew it, he was holding you against the cave wall, you legs wrapped around his waist as you grinded against his member for some sweet friction.

He grabbed your hair and forced your head to the side for better access as he started making small love bites up and down your neck and chest. You scrapped your nails through his hair, the little pleasure starting to affect you in ways you had never even dreamed it would. It felt like he was the only thing holding you to earth as you held onto him for dear life, both of you far too gone to care about anything else but the feeling of each other’s touch.

The hand that was still in your hair pulled you to look back at him as he spoke to you with soft eyes, “Are you sure you want this baby? We can stop if you want to. I don’t want to do something you’re not ready for.”

He knew the chances of you wanting to stop while you were in heat were slim to none, but he also knew that you wanted nothing to do with him most of the time. He didn’t want you to be angry with him later. He needed fo be SURE you knew the consequences to what you were asking him to do.

“Yes. I’m sure. Now PLEASE just fuck me before I go crazy. Please!” You replied as you held his hair in a death grip, slowly rubbing your slit against his member. This let him shallowly dip into you and caused a light squeal to emit from your chest.

He positioned himself fully in front of your entrance, giving you a final look, wanting you to give him another form of assurance before he continued with his actions. You nodded your head at him as you pulled him in for a passionate kiss of approval.

He hurriedly buried himself completely inside of you, both of you moaning out from pleasure in the process. A deep growl came from Seokmin’s chest as he dug his face into your neck in an effort to try and hold himself still so you could adjust to his long length. As much as he wanted to start fucking you into the cave wall, he refused to continue until he knew you were comfortable enough to move on.

Soon, you started to rut against him, trying pathetically to get him to move. He got the hint fast and pulled out so that just his tip was barely inside you before he pushed himself back in at full speed. The action had forced all the air out of your lungs and had you grasping for any part of him that was within your reach. He was fucking you brutally against the wall and you felt like you were in Heaven.

“Fuck- you take me so well baby. Like you were made for me. Bet you wanted me to fuck your pretty little pussy since the day we met” He breathed out, causing you to whine in response to his filthy words.

You were so sensitive from the days of being locked away with no satisfaction, your walls were already fluttering around his cock after just a minute or two of him being inside you. The feeling of you clenching around him made his eyes roll to the back of his head from sheer ecstasy. He wasn’t gonna last long, but he was determined to get you there first. You were his main priority. Especially with you being in heat, he was insistent on making you cum first.

“Do I really feel that good?” You asked in choked out breaths and chuckled lightly at his fucked out expression. He had his eyes partially closed and his brows were pushed into a concentrated face, he looked spectacular.

“Baby, you have no idea how good your little cunt feels” he groaned out and pulled you in for another kiss, quickening his pace as he was getting closer to his release.

He halted his actions before he sat you back onto the cave floor and positioned you on all fours. He entered you from behind and started thrusting into you at an inhuman pace. He grabbed your hair and pulled your body to his chest, making your mouth fall open in response to your new position as he moved his hand that was in your hair to your throat. He was sooooo much deeper now, he was hitting your cervix with every movement. You were sure he was gonna break you in two.

You gasped when he hit juuust the right spot inside you, “Fuck! I- I’m so close!” you squealed out, grabbing the hand he had around your throat and squeezing it tightly in an unsuccessful attempt to ground yourself.

“I know baby- fuck! You’re getting so tight around me, like a good little cocksleeve. So fucking perfect.” He darkly chuckled out, still mercilessly thrusting himself into you. He quickly added his other hand down to rub your swollen clit.

“Please- I-I can’t. Fuck! It’s too much I’m gonna-” you said as you tried to push his hand away. The pleasure his hand provided was too much for you, It felt like you were going to explode.

“Shh. It’s alright, I want you to. Go ahead baby, I know you need to. It must’ve been soooo hard going all this time without my dick to help you,” he cooed at you with a seductive smirk, “But You’ve been such a good girl princess. And Good girls deserve to be rewarded. Good girls get to cum on their daddy’s cock” he whispered as he licked up evilly from your collarbone to your ear, still pounding into you so hard you could hardly breathe and still rubbing your clit like it was the last thing he’d ever do.

“But I- You have to stop before I-” just as you were about to finish your sentence, a white wave of euphoria hit you, stopping you dead in your tracks.

“Holy shit” you heard Seokmin say as you started to come down from your high. You had thrown yourself out of his arms and onto your palms, now holding the ground in front of you.

“I made you squirt. Jesus Christ that was so hot baby” He spoke as he tapped his now soaked cock on your plump ass before he slid himself back into your pussy.

You whimpered loudly in response, “No please daddy- it’s too much. I- I cant-” You started to squirm from the overstimulation before Seokmin took your arms and pinned them behind your back with his hand, pushing your upper body to the ground.

“You can take a bit more baby. I know you can. I need to finish still. And It’s only fair that you’re nice to me now that I’ve been so nice to you right princess?” He teased while still pushing in and out of you sloppily to get himself off.

You whined slightly before you started to lazily clench your walls around him, trying to get him there quicker through the pain of your sensitivity. But you started to feel that familiar feeling building back up in your stomach. For most female wolves, their heat would start up their need immediately after relief unless one thing was done…

“Shit baby, I’m close. Where do you want me to cum? I could cum in your pretty little mouth so you can swallow all of me. Or I could paint your sweet ass with my cum so everyone will know you’re my little cock slut. It’s up to you princess” Seokmin gritted out through his teeth, smacking your ass with one hand and using the other one with the grip on your waist to pull you back to him over and over again.

“I- I need you to cum inside me.” You mustered out, already moaning out incoherent sounds from being so close to your own high so soon after your last one.

Seokmin’s rhythm faltered for a moment as he took in what you had just said before he spoke up again, “But baby… are you sure?” He did his best to sound as concerned as he could while he was still balls deep inside you. But fuck, it was hard when all he wanted to do was breed you like the bitch in heat you were.

“Yes. Please! It’ll make it go away for longer. Please! Cum inside me daddy” You all but screamed as he managed to graze your sweet spot.

He wouldn’t normally want to risk something like that, even with his own mate, he’d still want to be sure they were both ready for the possibility of a child in case. But all he could focus on was your tight cunt sucking him in over and over and how he wanted to help you with your heat as much as possible. You asked him to cum inside you. So that’s exactly what he was gonna do.

He threaded his brows together in concentration as he worked his way to his high. You had already started going over the edge for the second time today. Your moans and sounds were music to his ears, so his fangs had elongated. But because he wasn’t sure where you two had stood, he just decided to bite his bottom lip instead to keep himself from marking you.

“Fuck! Be a good little slut and take all of it.” He groaned as he pushed himself as deep into you as he could, emptying his load and releasing his hot thick cum against your walls in the process.

You were both a panting sweaty mess. He pulled out, an action to which you whined from the lack of fullness, and grabbed his shirt to help you clean up. Once you were both clean, he sat down beside you against your wall. You were still panting, but were remarkably quiet

“Are you upset with me?” Seokmin asked looking at his hands, doing everything he could to keep from meeting your gaze that had found him the second he started speaking.

“No I’m not mad at you. What makes you think that?” You answered, your mind still a little groggy and your voice still a little strained from the sex.

“I just figured you would be because we fucked. And then I came- well you know…” he responded, rubbing the back of his neck slightly.

“I’m not mad. Just tired. I asked you to help me and you did. I asked you to cum inside me and you did. So even if I wanted to be mad, I wouldn’t really have the right to be.” You added, hoping to ease his worries slightly while you were trying your best not to nod off to sleep.

“Yeah about that… why did you ask me to-” Seokmin started his sentence before you stopped him, immediately knowing what he was referring to.

“It keeps the need away for longer. Don’t ask me how I know. I just do. And I figured you’d need at least a few minutes before we could go for another round, so it seemed like the most viable option.” You stated matter of factly, running your trembling fingers through your messy hair before you sat them down on your lap.

“Oh. I see.” He said as he started to get visibly nervous. You knew where he was about to go with this sentence too, but you decided you’d let him ask anyways, “so… what does this mean? Are you gonna go back to hating me now?”

“I never hated you to begin with Seokmin. I just- I didn’t want a new mate. After what happened to my old one, it just- it didn’t feel right. So I was cold to you, and it’s not like I felt nothing for you then. I just- didn’t want to. As for the state of our relationship, I’m not really sure what we are myself. But I do know that I don’t want to be mean to you anymore. You never deserved it. You were just trying to love me, you didn’t do anything wrong. But I’m just not sure how good of a mate I’d be to you at the moment. I’ll do my best.” You huffed out earnestly as you turned your entire body to look at him.

He looked exhausted and you knew that that was your fault. But that still didn’t change the fact that you thought he was the most attractive person ever in that moment, still attempting to catch his breath, his hair matted and stuck to his forehead from sweat. He beamed a smile at you.

“I can live with that” he let out as he grabbed your petite hand in his big one and brought it up to his lips for a kiss.

“But why? Why would you want that if it means that you’d have a mate who still wasn’t capable of loving you properly?” You questioned. That thought had been on your mind since the second after he told you he had imprinted on you. Why would he want you if you didn’t even know how to love him?

Seokmin played with your fingers for a moment before he spoke again with a sweet smile that melted your heart, “The Heart Wants What It Wants I guess.”

(Updated 9/8)

[another-fanfic-haven]

Vivid nightmare

(words: 1247 important note at the end!)

Spring night, almost 10 pm. You're sitting in the backyard on a swing, cup of hot coffee keeping you up and warm... Everybody seemed to forget about your birthday. Bothering is not worth it, you don't want to come out as being pushy.

Someone's pulling over. Maybe it's your neighbor, getting back from work. You close your eyes, lightly pushing yourself on the swing...

You hear someone's footsteps on the driveway, heading to the gate. You noticed two shadowy figures. Well known to you. It's Tabi and Agoti! You knew they tend to call at odd hours, but they never visited you this late at night. Both of them run towards you and you got down just in time to be squished by them. You tried to give them a hug back, well, at least you tried to move your sandwiched arms. - Happy birthday tiny dude! - Agoti pulled you to himself and put his head on top of yours. Usually, you'll try to wiggle your way out, arguing that you aren't this small, he's just a giant, but-- It felt so good this time. - We got you something. - Tabi handed you a pretty big and heavy box. You tried to give it a wiggle, but it's too bulky for you. - What's that? - you eyed the box from every perspective you could achieve. Agoti let you out, so you can check the gift.

You were expecting it to be a glitter-bomb, exploding right in your face, but...

- OH MY-- IT'S-- IS THAT A-- - Yep. - They both answered, taking a sit around the box with huge smiles. For almost two years you were eyeing one, specific jacket. Expensive as hell, a real leather biker jacket with pads on shoulders, elbows, and back, with huge, glow-in-the-dark angel wings. They got you in a gorgeous color combo - black and neon red with white wings. You quickly put the gift on... It's a perfect size. You're stroking your "new" arms, not getting enough of this quality. - It's-- It's perfect. Thank you. - you whispered sobbing the tears of happiness.

You spent the most awesome night, sitting outside until 2 in the morning, laughing, crying.

"What's that? Why's this beeping?"

It's the last day of detention, a day of releasing the album your trio worked on this entire month. Tabi was right last time, this Toyota tried to kill you. It broke down in the middle of a highway. You had just enough time to drive to the emergency lane, brushing against the barrier. You're lucky, though. Just a few scratches and bruises on your neck from the seatbelt.

- Hey guys. - you waved and dropped onto a chair. - Hey he-- -WHAT IS THAT! - Tabi pointed at your neck. - I-- might have had a minor accident. - you brushed your bruises. - A. MINOR. W H A T!? - he screamed at you. - Ey, ey, ey! - Agoti pulled him back. - They're alive, aren't they? Calm down.

- What's going on here! - Solazar stormed into the break room. - Nothin'. Tabi's just gettin' overprotective again. - sighed Agoti. - Why this time? - Solazar, resigned, took a look at the trio, crossing his arms. - Well, "Y/N" had an accident after I told them to get rid of their deathtrap of a car. - Tabi's attitude became protective and anxious at the same time. - I'm fine! Those bruises are just from a belt and the car has just a small dent! - you got up, glancing at your friend. Tabi sighed and looked away biting his cheek. - When you are ready go to the rec room. We have a small party there. - announced Sol, leaving your trio.

"Okay, time to wake up. Wait. Why I can't open my eyes. What's that in my throat? Shit... Stop beeping! It's getting annoying. I have to- damn. My arms are so heavy..."

That's it. You finally moved out of your abusive love home. Finally, on your own rules. You were able to accumulate a small fortune, enough to rent a house and live for few months. You unpacked your possessions and took a tour of your new apartment. It's tiny, but that's enough for you. You relaxed on the couch in the living room. It's all used, but you don't mind that. It was cheap, the landlord seems friendly... you finally can live in peace. You checked the phone. No new messages. Agoti's offline for almost a year now... But Tabi is still on. You texted him and sat back. Soon after you got a phone call... From Tabi. Odd, he hasn't contacted you this way since Agoti's disappearance.

- Tabi? - your voice echoed. No response... What if something happened?! - Tabi! Are you there!? - you screamed into the microphone, ready to get up and go wherever he is. - Yeah... Hey. - you hear him struggling. It's definitely his voice, but-- different. Lower, raspy, throaty. - Dear goodness! Are you okay? - you asked, moving to the edge of that sofa. - Yes, don't worry. - he assured you. - I saw your text. Congratulations. - he added. His tone is changed. Cold. Something really bad happened to him. - Thanks! Want to come over? - you heard a heavy sigh and a long pause. - Tabi? You still there? - I'll come. Later. - he said quickly and hung up. That was... weird. He never acted like that. Maybe he's in a rush, you thought.

It's 9 at night. Someone's banging at your door. Tabi said he will come... maybe it's him?

- Comin! - you rushed to open the door. The figure on the other side... It was Tabi's but... You gasped and froze in place, looking at his head. Tabi sighed, hanging his head.

- Oh my go-- what happened? - you invited him inside.

Wait, what's happening. Why's everything so blurry? No! Tabi! Don't go...

You woke up on the hospital bed, you can't move your limbs at all. Your head feels so stiff. Something is beeping in the background, getting quieter, then louder back and forth. You hear voices, but you are sure you know the words, but can't understand them. It's so disturbing. The world is both slowed and moving so quickly.

Why is someone at your bed? Holding a pillow... You panicked, wanting to scream for help!... but your voice is stuck in the throat.

- Hey! Hey! - you hear someone calling you, shaking you by the shoulder.

You woke up, drenched in sweat, your mouth feeling like a Sahara desert, your heart pounding like you just run a marathon. It was just a nightmare. Vivid nightmare. You're nervously staring at the environment. It's your dark salon, you are in your house. All safe, with your friend by your side. - Oh my god... what a dream. - you rubbed your eyes with the palms. - I heard you screaming. Thought someone broke in. - he said patting your back. - Are you okay? - Ye-- No. I don't know. - you fell on the back piece, still shaken by your nightmare, digesting what just happened. Tabi gave you a glass of water, the bliss of this cold drink in your dry mouth... it was refreshing. He stayed with you until you calmed down and fell back to sleep. This time with no dreams...

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A/N: Hello! It's my 100th post, so i really wanted to celebrate that with some... quite lengthy piece! :D

I hope you will like it AND! My askbox is always open. Feel free to comment, send me a message, ask and feel free to reblog! :D

God, I'm terrible at announcements, I really, really hope you all are enjoying my writings so far! Sendin' love down the way!