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miraclewoozi · 2 months

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HIGH FIDELITY, PT 1. -c.hs

getting back on the horse is hard, and failing to hit it off with the cute gamer guy you went for a drink with last night has the potential to be your love life’s last straw. but when up and coming rockstar VERNON unexpectedly canters into your life, you find yourself asking one very important question: do you have it in you to saddle up, one more time?

pair ; vernon x fem!reader. content ; strangers to lovers. up-and-coming musician!vernon x record store owner!reader. fluff, angst, parts two and three will contain suggestive themes and smut. (MINORS DNI). warnings ; drinking + alcohol is a big theme pretty much throughout. mentions of past relationship breakdowns. reader experiences a lot of stress, anxiety and feelings of doubt, reflected in self sabotage. wc ; 13.5k ( ~35k total. ) disclaimer ; this fic was inspired by rob + liam in the series high fidelity and is therefore pretty influenced by the show. if you’ve watched it, you’ll probably see a lot of similarities! i just felt so drawn to vernon in this kind of role that i really wanted to try and put a spin on it. i do not claim that every idea behind this is original. notes ; been working on this one for a while. hope you enjoy it.<3

“What do you mean, no?”

Your best friend and longest standing employee Seungkwan turns his head away from the customer he’s serving to look at you with filth in his eyes. Unsurprisingly, his features don’t soften when you double down on your response to him.

“I mean, no,” you laugh. “I’m running on fumes, dude. I’m not going. No way.”

“But…” he whines, putting down the record in his hands. “No, come on. I told you about this weeks ago. You’re really gonna make me go on my own?”

“You won’t be on your own. Chan’s still going.”

Your younger friend, upon hearing his own name, whirls around from where he’s been rearranging the wall of cassettes and lifts an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“You’re still going to that guy’s show tonight, right?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I am. Why?” Chan eyeballs your guilt-adjacent expression for a second before his face falls and he looks at Seungkwan with a curled lip. “What did you do? Why’s she not coming anymore?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Seungkwan barks. The customer he’s still not finished ringing up flinches at the lift in his voice, but he doesn’t notice. “Why is that always your first–”

“Shut up, don’t start this right n–”

“I’m not starting anything! You started–”

“Guys!” You interrupt, looking between the two of them and doing your best to smile apologetically at the poor lady fumbling through the cash in her fingers like it’s an Olympic sport. “Can we park this one? For five minutes? Please?”

The bickering pair fall quickly into silence and Chan sends one last glare at Seungkwan before he turns back to the cassettes, grumbling something under his breath.

With a clearing of his throat the only giveaway, Seungkwan drops seamlessly back into his customer service voice and plasters a charming smile onto his lips. He checks the register and warmly tells the young woman her total, holding out his palm for her to place the money into. Even knowing him as well as you do, the switch-up gives you a little bit of whiplash.

The customer passes over her cash and accepts her change from Seungkwan’s hands before making perhaps the swiftest exit you’ve ever seen anyone make. No sooner has the bell above the entry to OFF BEAT Vinyl rung and the door has clicked shut, the two men turn once again.

But not on each other.

On you. And it’s the more gentle of them that pipes up first.

“Why aren’t you coming?” Chan asks, abandoning his little project and hurrying over to the desk with a frown. You’re sure it’s supposed to look sympathetic to whatever issue it is that’s changed your mind, supposed to fool you into believing that this has nothing to do with him still blaming Seungkwan entirely. But… you know him better than that. You know them both better. If Chan and Seungkwan weren’t both employed by you, you don’t doubt that they would have ripped each other to shreds within the first hour of meeting. Their dynamic is fascinating to watch — one minute, the best of friends, the next just seconds away from throwing fists; you’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve had to send them to different rooms to avoid having to clean blood and tears off your shop (and sometimes your apartment) floor.

“I didn’t sleep so well last night, I just want to go to bed early. Is that… okay?”

(This is an embellishment of the truth, but what they don’t know can’t hurt them.)

“No,” they both exclaim at the same time, but Seungkwan goes one step further and slams his hands down on the counter for good measure. You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at him, but he keeps his palms flat and doesn’t give any indication that he’s about to apologise, so…

“Okay — God.” You turn away from them, heading towards the little office out the back of the store to try and get a few minutes’ respite. “Whatever. Fight with the wall, you guys – I’m not going. Check in with me before you head out, okay?”

Behind you, Seungkwan dramatically calls you a traitor and says he’ll never forgive you for this, but you just shake your head and continue on your way. The world falls into silence as you shut the door after yourself and you lean back against it, letting out a deep exhale and pinching the bridge of your nose.

Now, you did have an awful night’s sleep last night, and after how on-and-off busy the store has been all day today, the headache you woke up with this morning has only slowly gotten worse. But there are reasons for those things outside of what you’re going to admit to out in the main storefront. As close as the three of you are, there are some things that you’ve always thought it wise to keep… a little bit hushed. Especially at work.

When Chan and Seungkwan start an inquisition into your private life, it feels like it may never end. And so sue you, you’d actually like to make it home at a reasonable time, today.

True to your parting request, the two men close down the store for you while you sit out the back in your ‘office’, lights dimmed, pouring over both a new store playlist you’re trying to compile and a few less exciting — but actually important — tasks. Chan heads out first, all puppy-dog eyed when he pokes his head through the door and asking if you’re really not coming out. You shake your head, telling him to have fun and tell you all about it on Monday when he’s next penned in.

Seungkwan is slightly less easily brushed away. A few minutes after Chan says his final goodbye, your other employee slides into your office and shuts the door, sitting down in the armchair opposite you with his eyebrows scrunched together.

He doesn’t speak for almost a full thirty seconds, at which point, you look up at him from the small mountain of receipts you’re trying to organise and click your tongue.

“What?” you ask, leaning back in your own chair and crossing your arms. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You know why.” Seungkwan shifts forward on the cushion until he’s sat almost entirely on the edge of the seat. “You might think you’re really good at hiding your shit, okay? But you’re not. Not from me.”

“Please,” you sigh. “It’s nothing. I’m telling you, I’m just tired today.”

“And I’m telling you that I know you better than that. Come on, talk to me.”

This is, unfortunately, something you can’t deny. It also seems to be his unfailing last line of defence every single time you’re stubborn over discussing your problems. One of these days, you’ll be ready for it — you’ll have a response sitting on the tip of your tongue ready to shut the conversation down, and he’ll be the one on the spot, and you’ll treat yourself to a pint of ice cream or something when you get home as a victory snack. But today? Isn’t that day; Seungkwan stumps you, once again, so you groan in defeat, cradling your head in your hands.

“I went on a date last night,” you say under your breath.

“What?”

Clearing your throat, you look up at him. You say, louder, “I went on a date last night.”

His eyes blow wide and if he could get any closer to you without actually sitting on top of your coffee-stained worktop, you think he would. Which is strange, if you really let yourself think about it, because Seungkwan is sort of an ex-thing, and talking so openly to someone who has quite literally been inside you about going out with other people… shouldn’t come as easily as it does.

But that was quite some time ago, and for three long months, you drove each other nuts. The two of you are way better off as friends. (Whether you’re better as colleagues is still up for review.)

“You what?” he whisper-shouts. It feels almost like he’s hinting to an invisible audience that this piece of information is extremely scandalous: all wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Which would be fine, except it’s not really that scandalous at all, and neither should it be a surprise: you’re single, you have been for a while, and you have an entire sub-folder in your phone dedicated solely to dating apps — you’re at perfect liberty to go out with whoever you like. You just continue to stare at him, refusing to repeat yourself for a third time.

“You haven’t even been home, have you?” Seungkwan asks after letting the dust settle, the silence just on the brink of uncomfortable. “Oh my God. Tell me everything.”

“Shut up,” you groan. “His name’s Wonwoo. I met him on Hinge. And fuck you – yes, I went back to my own place.”

You pause for a second, taking a breath when his features cloud with the question he’s about to ask.

“It’s just-... so did he.”

Seungkwan leaps to his feet and claps loud enough that your already tender eardrums feel assaulted, adding an ‘I knew it!’ for good measure. You cringe at his volume, rubbing your temples – you should’ve known telling him this wouldn’t calm him down, but a small part of you was still hoping. This time, he actually does circle around the desk, carelessly shoving a few bits of paper out of his way before sitting on the newly cleared wood.

“Had you up all night, didn’t he?” Seungkwan asks. You shove his thigh, looking away from him, embarrassed. “What was the date?”

You just wish it was the kind of embarrassment that he thinks you’re feeling. Flustered, shy, giddy even. But it’s not any of those things.

“If I tell you, will you please turn it down a notch?” You ask, and Seungkwan nods, giddily kicking his legs over the side of the desk. With a sigh, you continue. “We just went for a drink. It wasn’t special, okay? It was bad. We had nothing to talk about, he was awkward, I didn’t even wanna be there – I took a bathroom break after like… a half hour, and I tried to bail but I’d left my phone on the table so I had to go back.”

“And how did that end up with him in your panties?” Seungkwan asks, thankfully a little quieter when he speaks this time.

“Do not talk about my panties out loud ever again,” you grunt, drumming your fingertips on the arm of your office chair. You give a dejected sigh as you answer him properly. “I guess… It felt like a sign that I was trying to give up too early. So I stayed a little longer, told him the truth about how I was feeling. I don’t know, maybe it took the pressure off or something? But we got talking a little more, we found some stuff we had in common… It just got easier and he started cracking a few jokes, so…”

“So… he laughed his way into your—?”

“He doesn’t drink alcohol,” you interject slowly, narrowing your eyes. “I asked him if he minded driving me home.”

“You devil,” Seungkwan grins, lightly prodding your calf with the side of his foot. “Was he good? Was it big?”

“Seungkwan!”

“Did he make you–”

“He was gone this morning when I woke up.”

Your friend doesn’t say ‘oh, shit’ out loud, but he doesn’t have to. The silence he suddenly falls into speaks for itself, his newly adopted slack-jawed expression the exclamation mark at the end of his unspoken sentence.

“Always the fucking ‘nice’ guys.” You push up from your desk and start to gather your things, shutting off your computer and grabbing your phone off the desk. You’re over it – you can deal with all this tomorrow.

Seungkwan hops down, biting the inside of his cheek as you pull your keys out of the pocket of your jeans. “Come with us tonight,” he tries one more time, laying a hand on your shoulder and sounding the kind of gentle that makes your skin itch. You swerve out from beneath his palm, shaking your head at him again. “Maybe it’ll take your mind off it.”

“I don’t need my mind taking off anything,” you insist softly. “I’m fine, I just don’t feel like going out. Gonna order in some food and get my ass to bed. Okay?”

Knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, your best friend finally stops pressing. He circles around you and flicks on the overnight alarm, letting you lead your way out of the office and then through the front of the store. He helps you pull the shutter down and tests the lock for you, as he so often does, before he holds both of his arms out in front of him. With a resigned roll of your eyes, you walk into his embrace for a couple of seconds.

“I’m okay, Seungkwan. Go without me. Have fun and let me know if this Vernon guy is any good, okay?”

“We’ll miss you,” he says as you pull away, and you clap him on the upper arm once before turning away, slipping your headphones on over your ears.

What you neglected to inform Seungkwan, even after allowing yourself those rare few moments of vulnerability, is who you bumped into on your way to the bar where you met Wonwoo last night. The encounter that set the tone in the first place. The reason you were so cold with the stranger who sat across from you in the booth, the reason you tried to bail, and two-thirds of the reason you’ve felt so damn out of it all day. That’s a story for another time, you tell yourself on your walk home. Maybe.

But… then again. Maybe not.

You’ve been marinating on your couch in a pair of sweatpants and a crisis hoodie for at least two hours and are currently on your second bowl of evening cereal when you hear a knock on your apartment door. You purse your lips and set the spoon back down inside the milky sludge, but you don’t set your ‘dinner’ to one side just yet. It’s probably just the old lady next door, asking if you’ve seen her cat, Houdini (you can’t help but feel like she was asking for trouble giving him a name like that) (in any case — no, you haven’t), or the middle-aged couple opposite asking you to turn your music down (you won’t) (it’s not even that loud).

You’re not getting up. All you have to do is wait for them to give up and away.

Knock, knock, knock.

They’ll leave.

Knock knock.

Any second, now.

…

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

You groan loudly as you haul yourself to your feet and skid over to the door, crossing your arms tighter over your chest to try and shield you from the chill that always lingers in the hallway.

“I’m sorry, Mrs P, I haven’t seen H—” you start on exasperated autopilot, falling quiet the moment your eyes land first on Chan’s beaming smile, and second on Seungkwan’s guilty eyes. “How… the fuck did you guys get in here?”

“We followed someone in,” Chan tells you as he slides past, inviting himself into your haven and heading through to the living room where your favourite album is spinning on your record player. “That really tall guy – I think he lives on the second floor? Crazy hairline. Like, right back h—?”

“Cool,” you interrupt, except it’s actually everything but cool. Seungkwan steps through the door too, following behind you as you stalk after your younger friend. “Next question. Why are you guys in here?”

“You’ve been in a funk all day,” Chan says, tossing himself down onto your couch and nearly tipping your cereal all over the cushions. He eyes the glass you have on the side-table, raises a brow and looks back at you. “And you can’t deny that. You’re drinking rosè and eating fruit loops at 9pm on a Saturday. You need to get out of this apartment.”

“I don’t need to do anything,” you tell him, sitting down on the armchair to Chan’s left that only ever gets used when these two idiots show up at the same time.

“One hour?” Seungkwan tries again, crouching down in front of you and taking hold of your hand. “You don’t have to be out late. And – and I’ll open tomorrow. You can stay in bed as long as you want.”

“Do you guys ever stop?” You ask them, and in tandem, the two men shake their heads at you. “I’m staying here. You’ve gotta go, or you’re gonna be late.”

Chan whines your name loudly, stomping like an upset toddler. “You know it won’t be as fun without you.”

“It’s gonna have to be,” you shrug, picking your feet up off the floor and resting them on the coffee table. “Come on. I’m serious. Get out of here.”

Seungkwan watches you for a moment longer but when you eye him sternly, he stands up again, giving your hand a squeeze and sending a nod to tell Chan to get up and follow him. First taking a long sip from your wine glass, the younger man does as he’s instructed, concern etching a frown onto his lips as he walks towards the door.

“If you change your mind, you know where we are, okay?” Seungkwan says and you nod at him. “See you in the morning.”

The door clicks shut behind them and you feel your shoulders droop, a long sigh leaving your lungs now you’re finally back on your own again. You roll your head side-to-side, relieving a tiny bit of the tension that you’ve been holding up in your neck all day, before relaxing back against the cushions behind you.

I’m not going out tonight, you tell yourself as you try to time your breaths to the beat of your music, letting it drown out the fact that the young couple who live two doors down have started arguing just outside your front door. It’s not gonna happen.

There’s no way.

The chill of an ice-cold glass meets your palm not even an hour later.

Chan and Seungkwan had been sitting on the stairs outside your apartment building, giving you fifteen more minutes just in case you happened to change your mind. To your credit, neither man had expected you to get out of your quarter-life-crisis outfit. Each gave a whistle of approval as you stepped outside into the air in a nice pair of jeans and a cute, long-sleeved shirt.

You all set off in the direction to the Arrowhead (so-called thanks to the venue’s unconventional triangular room shape) and both of your friends managed to successfully paint a few smiles on your face along the way. Once inside, Seungkwan dragged you by the wrist up towards the main bar space. Before you even had time to process the blurred faces that you walked by and the fuzzy neon signs all the way up the stairwell, enthused cheers and applause from the room ahead and the melodic strumming of a guitar drowned out the dread you’d been feeling ever since you woke up.

“This guy is not covering U2,” Chan says almost incredulously as he thrusts the drink he paid for into your hand. You manage to work your way through the crowd a little: it’s busier in here than you’ve ever seen it before, and certainly way more full than you would have really expected, but there’s still just enough movement room.

“Yeah, he is,” you say as you weave your way into a decent spot, where you can actually see the musician whose logo has been plastered on every notice board around town for the past month and a half. You even end up with a bit of breathing space, which is a rare, but welcome, treat.

But whatever you were about to say next – about how you don’t like U2, and how you’ve never really forgiven them for putting their entire new album onto everybody’s iTunes back in 2014 – dies a magnificent death on your tongue. You pause with your drink halfway to your lips as your eyes land on the main attraction, the man up on the stage; he has a small band up there, too, but all the lights draw your focus to him. His eyes are sparkly. Both his hands are wrapped around the microphone like he’s caressing it, his rosy lips brush over the metal as they move with each word that comes out of his mouth. Watching him quickly becomes almost hypnotic.

So. This is Vernon.

Long, dark hair sits low over his temples, perfectly parted and shaped in the middle to frame his brows. The top few buttons of his emerald satin shirt are popped open, sleeves rolled up past his elbows, the hem half tucked into his black jeans. He has rings on almost every finger. A silver chain around his neck. He looks good, but his voice?

I think I hated this song ten minutes ago, you think to yourself, but there’s something about Vernon’s deep, rough-edged tone that has you considering never listening to anything else. If you could stand to look away from the way he cradles his mic, and the way one of his eyes squeezes tighter closed as he lifts up into a higher note, and the way he moves on the stage like he was born to be on one, you might notice your friends (and everyone else around you) equally entranced by this gorgeous rendition of Beautiful Day as yourself. You can’t, though, so you don’t.

You keep your attention locked on the singer and instead start to wonder just what he injected the air with when he stepped out from behind that curtain.

Vernon’s eyes flutter back open right as he hits the final line of the song, a smile spreading over his lips. You realise only now that you’re hardly breathing, nor blinking — your body doesn’t remember to function in the ways it needs to survive, too caught up being immersed all the way to the last beat. You think he looks right at you from up on the stage, you swear one of his eyebrows lifts and his features twist into a satisfied smirk. You’re certain, because for half a second it feels like the world tumbles into slow motion and it’s like he’s reading every single one of your secrets, scouring every corner of your mind.

And then… he looks away. He looks across the crowd applauding and cheering and whistling for him, before crouching low and taking a sip from the water bottle sitting on the floor beside his mic-stand. Only then does he speak.

“Risky opener, I know,” he chuckles, his speaking-voice deep and smooth and wholly entrancing. The room erupts into soft laughter, a series of whoops coming from the crowd, everyone disarmed by his slightly awkward charm; the singer’s cheeks turn rosy and a gummy smile lights up his face before he continues. “Thank you guys for giving it a chance, though. If you didn’t know… I’m Vernon—…”

You’re hooked on his every word as he starts to introduce himself and the band behind him — everyone is, but you don’t care about the people around you. Despite being shoulder-to-shoulder with your two best friends and with every breath inhaling the overpowering cologne of the guy standing right behind you, it feels, in a way, like you and the singer could be the only two people in the entire room.

The set lasts just over ninety minutes and is a carefully put-together mixture of mostly original songs and a couple of crowd-pleasing covers, a few slower ballad-types to offset the higher energy rock songs that he beams the whole way through. In-between, Vernon wins over the crowd with his dry sense of humour and a natural charisma that has you feeling mortifyingly warm, despite the fact that you know he isn’t speaking directly to you when he breaks to talk. You’ve been to more than your fair share of gigs in this venue over the years, but few performers have ever made one of their shows feel so genuinely intimate; by the time he says goodnight and heads off the stage, bidding everyone a safe journey home, it feels, in a weird way, like… you know him.

Most of the more local artists who play in the Arrowhead tend to hang around after their sets – sometimes they’ll have copies of EPs, others come with pins and badges showing off their logos, various cute freebies for people to take home. A few even just stand around in the bar and talk for a while, thanking people personally for coming, sharing information about their upcoming releases and future gig schedules. Unless you’ve been really blown away, this isn’t something the three of you often stick around for, though.

It’s therefore a bit of a surprise that when Vernon re-emerges some fifteen minutes later, you don’t even have to convince your friends to work your way into the crowd already starting to form. If anything, the look exchanged between you all establishes that wanting to praise this guy and say hello is very much mutual; the time that ticks by before you’re face-to-face with him really feels like no time at all.

The people in front of you move off to the side and you catch your first actual, unobstructed glimpse of him. He takes a sip from his glass and wipes his upper lip with the back of his hand before greeting you kindly. Somehow, he’s even more handsome up close. You really didn’t think it was possible.

“Amazing set, man,” Chan says brightly, doing little by way of snapping you out of your trance. “Super fresh.”

“Seriously. So, so good,” Seungkwan gushes.

Vernon pushes away from where he’s leaned against the bar, pulling his other hand out of his pocket and extending it to your friends in turn.

“Thank you so much,” he says. “Glad you guys liked it.” Another one of those easy, bright smiles spreads over his face. Maybe you entertain, for a second, that it grows a little more when he holds his hand out to you, too.

You’re still stunned into silence by how breathtaking he is, but you put your drink in the other hand and wipe the condensation off your palm on the side of your jeans before shaking his hand, as well. He’s really warm, maybe even a little clammy, but when he squeezes with his fingers and looks straight into your eyes, this becomes a very negligible detail.

“Your vibe really reminds me of someone… God, what was his name-...” Chan starts to babble, clicking his fingers at lightning speed as if it’ll help him remember. “He was on that survival show-...”

“We’re sorry about him,” Seungkwan interjects after a few more seconds of nonsense and half-spoken, incorrect names, lifting a hand and covering Chan’s mouth. “He gets a little… it’s just when he’s excited.”

“No I don’t,” Chan huffs, swatting Seungkwan’s hand away. You inhale deeply, trying not to cringe as you watch Vernon’s amused eyes bounce between your two friends like he’s watching a tennis match.

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Case in point—” Seungkwan starts, at which stage you lay one palm on each of their shoulders to try and get them to stop talking.

By some miracle, it works. At least, their mouths stop moving; there’s definitely a silent conversation ongoing in the filthy looks they continue to exchange, but they stop bickering aloud and that’s good enough for you, for now.

“Come on, let’s leave the poor guy alone,” you say, and Chan shoots Seungkwan a filthy look before he nods and takes a small step back from the altercation.

Vernon’s eyes glitter under the venue’s neon lighting, wide and focused on you while you do your best to mediate. You only notice this when you look back at him, by which point it’s far, far too late to stop the eruption of butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re really good,” you compliment finally, a smile tugging your mouth up on one side.

“Thank you.” Vernon grins, briefly dipping his head in your direction, but looking for a second as if he’s about to say something else. His chest rises with a breath, his lips push forward like they’re about to separate again, but before he can, Chan finds one more thing to come out with. Of course. (Seungkwan, regretfully, was right — he does get a little…)

“Do you like records?” he asks, pulling Vernon’s gaze away from you. The singer tilts his head, questioning. “Records. Vinyl – albums? Records.”

“Shit – yeah.” Vernon nods then. “Yeah, sorry. I um-... Sure. Yeah. Totally.”

“She owns a record store,” Chan says, jerking his head towards you. You feel your eyes blow wide and you’re tapping harshly at his back in an instant, begging him to stop. “OFF BEAT Vinyl. Not too far from here – it’s a cool spot.”

“No kidding?” Vernon says, glancing back in your direction, but you’re too busy silently pleading at Chan to shut up to realise.

“Mm. You should swing by, some time,” Seungkwan agrees, and all of a sudden, you’re overcome with the urge to fight him, too. “We all work there.”

“All right, let’s go,” you cough eventually, grabbing both men by the wrist and tugging. Vernon chuckles softly at the interruption; it’s almost as sweet a sound as his singing.

“OFF BEAT Vinyl,” he repeats, tasting the store’s name on his tongue, swirling it around his mouth like a wine he’s trying to savour. “For real. I’ll look it up.”

Chan grins proudly, finally letting himself be pulled away from the singer, and you manage to make exactly two paces before Vernon’s voice rings through your eardrums one more time.

“Hey, uh – what was your name?” he asks. It’s unmistakable who the question is aimed at (your friends don’t even entertain for a moment that he could be asking them), but regardless, it takes you a moment to let yourself believe he really wants to know. Vernon doesn’t push, though – he knows you heard him and he waits for your answer, leaning a little forward.

So, you look over your shoulder and you tell him. You see his lips move silently as he repeats it to himself, just like he did with the name of the store. He tastes it. Plays with it on his tongue, remembers the way it feels. As if it’s something he really intends to remember.

“Cool,” he breathes, pushing his hair back and off his forehead and making it very difficult to feel in any way rational. “Well – it’s great to meet you guys. Thanks for coming out, again.”

Finally, you manage to get your friends away. One of them, at least – Seungkwan decides that he actually wants to grab a few copies of his EP (‘one for me, a few for the store’) and rushes back towards the singer; you tell him to just meet you back at the bar.

Then, with another round of drinks on order, you turn to Chan and land a gentle thump on his bicep.

“Dude,” you groan, and he looks at you incredulously, rubbing his upper arm with a pout. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” Chan asks.

“Tell him about the store!”

“I mean – I didn’t think it was classified?” he says. “Shit’s slow right now, and he seems like the kind of guy to have a record collection. What’s the damage?”

Seungkwan appears behind you with his hands full of CDs, badges and a scrap of something that you’re reasonably sure is firstly, a napkin, and secondly, has been signed. So you rest your elbows on the bar and place your head in your hands, grumbling quietly about how you don’t know you’ve managed to survive this long knowing these two losers.

“Because you love us,” Seungkwan says, fastening a button to your t-shirt. “Stop trying to deny it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh, accepting the drink from the bartender and taking a long sip. “God, you better have been serious about opening up for me, tomorrow.”

(Well. You have to give it to him: he was.)

“It’s just my opinion!”

From your perch on top of the store’s counter, you raise both of your palms in a display of your innocence. Chan stands in the middle of the R&B aisle, looking personally offended, fingers curled around the top of one of the wooden crates holding your stock.

“Me saying ‘I don’t think Welcome to the Black Parade is the best track on that album’ is not me saying that it’s a bad song.”

“But how can you say that?” Chan groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Who’s hearing the opening note to Famous Last Words and feeling the same way as they do with the Black Parade?”

“Most iconic doesn’t mean the best,” you counter. “Besides – I never said you weren’t allowed to have it as your favourite. It’d be a boring game if we all had the same answer.”

“I cannot cope with you anymore,” Chan whines. “You know what? No. I don’t even believe you. You’re just being a contrarian.”

“Why would I do that?” you ask.

“Because it’s the best song on the goddamn albu–”

The bell above the door chimes loud and clear through the store and both of your squabbling voices fall silent. Your head turns in the direction of the entrance, an autopilot greeting already forming on your lips, but you feel them fall slack the moment you realise who it is that’s just walked in.

It’s been five days. Though it would be a mistruth to claim you hadn’t thought about the singer since the night of his gig, it’s not one to say you didn’t think he would ever actually come into your place of work.

Much less at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. On a Thursday.

He pops his wrists as he walks a little further into the store, glancing around. Barring one of your regulars who walks about with his earphones in all the time, the store is completely empty; an adrenaline spike prickles the hairs on your arms, all the tiny muscles beneath your skin pulling them to stand upright.

“Hi,” he says once he deems himself to be close enough, stopping in his tracks and kicking the toe of his shoe against the floor.

“Hey,” you greet him in return.

“I’m-... Vernon. We met at the show, the other night?”

“Yeah — yeah, I remember you,” you smile. “I’m-... well. I’m still y/n.”

“Still y/n,” he says on a relieved exhale, grinning and glancing away from you. “I uh… I just had some free time. Thought I’d swing by and see what you guys had going on here.” Vernon adjusts the collar of his t-shirt, the silver of his rings glinting under the flickering yellow light overhead.

(It was definitely somewhere on your list of things to get fixed. Honest.)

“Sure, yeah,” you nod, swallowing hard and trying your best not to stare at him. It’s hard, though – in broad daylight, the way the flannel tied around his waist floats down over his hips and the way his jeans hug at his thighs is… you don't even have the words. “Let me know if you need help finding anything, okay?”

“I will.” He starts to thumb through one of the wooden boxes, offering a small smile your way. “Thank you.”

You’re holding your breath a little as he pulls a few 80’s rock albums out, his lips downturned in surprised approval at some of the records you carry. He holds onto a couple as he moves around the store and the entire time, you can feel Chan and Seungkwan staring at you. If there wasn’t a very real danger of Vernon looking your way again at a moment’s notice, you know you would be showing them your middle finger.

Really, they come away lucky.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve been trying to find some of these,” Vernon says after a few minutes, sauntering toward the desk – you’re still sitting on top of it, your legs swinging in the air beneath you. “Might have to make this my new stop.”

And displayed beside you on the counter – right by the cash register – are a few of his albums. The ones Seungkwan picked up after the show; until about two seconds ago, you had forgotten they were even there.

Vernon’s face lights up when he notices, turning to Seungkwan. “Come on, no way. I thought you were kidding about that.”

“Deadly serious,” Seungkwan laughs. Out of the corner of his eye, he must see you start to freeze up: he keeps talking instead of letting the silence settle. “It was on the speakers yesterday. Four people asked us about you.”

“For real?” Vernon asks. When all three of you nod your heads, you see the beginnings of a blush start to creep up his neck. “Wow. Thank you – um. That’s really cool of you guys.”

“It’s good music,” Chan shrugs. “You’re super talented.”

You’re not sure what it is about the onslaught of passive praise that gets so deep into Vernon’s head, but he doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself other than repeatedly saying ‘thank you’. Relief comes in the form of another customer jingling the bell above the door and drawing the attention away from him for a few moments.

“I’ll take these,” he says breathlessly as he turns to face you again. You find yourself a tiny bit lost in the warmth of his eyes and it takes you a second to remember to swivel around and slip off the other side of the countertop. You do, though. Eventually.

“Nice,” you say softly as you shuffle through them, ringing each one through. He’s got pretty decent taste, even if less than a week ago you were actively cringing at his choice of cover song. (It’s okay. That was before you knew better.) “Do you– need sleeves, or…?”

“I’m good. Thank you, though.” Vernon rests his hands against the edge of the counter and drums a quiet rhythm out with his thumbs as you tap away at the register. “Are-... you guys busy tonight, by the way?”

You look up from placing the records into a paper bag, glancing over to your colleagues who both rush to shake their heads. Vernon looks from them, to you, and you mirror their action. Even if I was, you start to think wistfully. I’d make time.

“I’m playing at the Orchid? Uh— it starts at eight thirty; I could get you guys on the list, if-... um…”

“That’d be awesome,” Chan says, nodding so hard you’re surprised his head doesn’t roll off his shoulders and start bouncing across the floor.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Seungkwan adds.

Vernon grins at them both, humming softly, before turning back to you and fumbling with his wallet to take out his card to pay for his purchases. You turn the machine around to face him; he hovers with his hand just above it.

“Maybe… I’ll see you tonight, too?” He says.

You can’t help the delight that rises inside you, as if it’s been injected straight into your bloodstream. It’s everywhere, all of a sudden. In your brain and your heart and your bones and in your lungs.

Yet, you somehow manage to keep your composure when you say, “yeah. Maybe you will.”

The payment goes through and you slide the bag over towards Vernon, your eyes never leaving his and his eyes never leaving yours. His fingers brush over yours as he takes it from you, the bite of the cold ring on his index finger a shocking contrast to the warmth the rest of his hand radiates. You hope your little gasp isn’t too audible, but… the way Chan whirls around to face away from the scene in front of him (presumably to poorly conceal his laughter), you know you haven’t gotten away with it.

“Cool,” he says, hesitating another second before finally pulling himself away. He bows his head in the direction of your friends, sending another of those irresistibly sweet smiles at you, and then he starts off towards the door. “See you, then.”

You feel your heart finally start to slow down as you grip the counter for dear life, setting out a long, drawn-out breath. What just happened? Why do you feel all… fuzzy?

“Maybe… I’ll see you tonight, too?” Chan asks in the deepest voice he can muster, snapping you out of your own head none too pleasantly. You turn in their direction as your other favourite moron feigns tucking hair behind his ear and flutters his eyelashes across at Chan.

“Yeah… Maybe you will.” And Seungkwan’s imitation of you is a little too accurate. Creepily so, and you want to curse him out for it. Instead, you scrunch up a bag to throw towards the pair of them, grinning despite yourself as they both swerve to dodge it.

“Oh my God, shut up,” you chastise them. You don’t have any bite, though, your brain still tingly and positively reeling and seeing Vernon’s dazzling smile every time you so much as blink. And when Seungkwan takes a running start and launches himself, full-force, into Chan’s unsuspecting arms? When Chan lifts him up and spins him around, and when they start making kissy-noises at each other between unearthly cackles?

You know that the next few hours are going to be the longest of your entire life.

The rest of the afternoon goes by without much disturbance and with evening plans now in place, you make the executive decision to send the boys home half an hour early. The three of you agree to meet outside The Orchid at just after eight o’clock, giving you all a chance to eat, wash up and change before the show; your friends separate and head in the different directions to the places they call home, making a promise to text your group chat before you leave to coordinate the link-up time. You head back into the office to finish tying up your loose ends and manage to depart just an hour later.

On your way to your apartment, you plan everything out to the minute in your head. You even allocate yourself twenty minutes to sit on the couch and decompress from your working day. So, when you settle down a little further into the cushions and put your head back, resting your eyes… when you tell yourself you’ll get up in just a minute and hop into the shower…

You certainly don’t expect to be woken up two and a half hours later as your phone vibrates on the floor of your living room.

With one eye still closed, you pick it up, yawning and stretching the lingering wisps of slumber from your body. Seungkwan’s contact name shows on your screen and you swipe to answer the call; on the other end of the line, a song you’ve never heard before is audible, but it’s accompanied by a voice you most definitely do know.

Everything snaps into place at once; in an instant, you’re wide awake, and you feel physically sick.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” you hiss into the speaker, scrabbling upright, tugging the phone away from your face to see the time. How is it already past 9pm?

“Oh, hello to you, too!” Seungkwan has to half-shout to be anywhere near audible over the music. You can almost perfectly visualise the way he’ll have sandwiched himself in a corner of the venue, pinching the bridge of his nose, head resting against the wall to try and block out enough sound to hear you. “Good to know you’re actually still alive!”

“Dude, I’m so sorry,” you say, rushing through to your bathroom to check if you can get away with leaving the house as you are. (Jury’s out, but you don’t have much of a choice.) “I… don’t know what happened. I fell asleep – I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

Seungkwan chides you again, this time reminding you that he’s been on your ass about going to a doctor to get your iron levels checked for months, that your timekeeping is terrible and that you really better hurry. You promise you’re on your way and hang up the call, pocketing your (horrifically under-charged) phone and slipping into a pair of sneakers you keep by the door before you head out. You told him you’d be here. Seungkwan’s voice rings loud and clear in your ears as you lock up your apartment.

But of course, bad things never happen in isolation. Waiting on the street outside your apartment block, you find yourself being cancelled on by not one, but two uber drivers: by the time the third reaches you, and has to follow the world’s most inconvenient diversion to get past some construction work, it’s 9:35. You know it doesn’t matter how quickly you run down the last stretch of the street and get up the seemingly never-ending staircase: it’s going to be too late.

You only manage to catch the literal last two songs of Vernon’s set. You’re not sure he even knows you’ve arrived, and in a way, you hope he doesn’t. Maybe having him believe you were a no-show is better than him knowing you’re about as low-functioning as a grown adult can be. You just slip in through the door as discreetly as you can and hover at the very back of the room as he rounds up for the night; Chan slips an arm around your shoulders as you turn to the bar and order yourself a drink, but it doesn’t do much to reduce the guilt that weighs heavy in your chest.

Which… is odd, really, you suppose. Seeing as you hardly know the singer much beyond his name and, now, a fraction of his record collection. Seeing as you certainly don’t owe him your presence at any of his performances. But there’s something in the way he made sure to ask you personally if you’d be able to make it, too, and you can’t shake it off, and… yeah, screw it, maybe you did want to be here. Maybe you did want him to notice. Maybe you do care what he thinks of you.

Maybe… you hope he feels the same about you.

Your drink hasn’t even arrived yet by the time you hear a chain of ‘excuse me – sorry, can I just? Yeah, thanks – sorry, excuse me’ -s behind you. Your eyes fly wide and you almost choke on your own spit at the sound, growing closer and closer, somehow audible over the background music floating through the speakers, over the other chattering voices and shrieks of laughter in every direction. Part of your breathlessness, admittedly, is to do with how immediately you just knew who that voice belonged to.

“Excuse m–” it sounds again.

And then, softer: “Hey.”

You turn around on your bar stool, barely managing to bite back a smile. “Hi.”

Vernon grins at you from a few feet away, a dark singlet hanging loose on his frame, showing off his long, lean arms, displaying the few bracelets he wears on one of his slender wrists. You’re staring – you know you are; you don’t even notice the fact that Chan takes several steps away from you, or how he throws a side-along glance toward Seungkwan, nor the fact that your two best friends start talking quietly among themselves, leaving you and Vernon almost alone.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how I managed to…” But Vernon’s already shaking his head, coming up beside you at the bar, settling into the seat on your left.

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, glancing over at you where you’re sitting. “I’m just glad you’re here, now.”

Chan stumbles over to you somewhere around midnight and claps his hand down on your shoulder, interrupting Vernon’s very enthusiastic explanation as to why flying is totally a better superpower to want to have than invisibility. Your giggles fall silent and Vernon stops mid-flow, waiting to hear what your friend wants to speak to you about. Unfortunately, Chan’s words are barely intelligible; it’s only when a marginally-better-for-wear Seungkwan appears too a moment later that you’re able to make any sense of him.

“We’re gonna–” Seungkwan hiccups, covering his mouth with his hand and wincing, no doubt at the burn of everything he’s had to drink now sitting high in his throat. “Gonna head out. Are you coming? We’ll split a taxi with you.”

You find yourself glancing over to where Vernon is standing, propped against the pool table that you’re now leaning on the edge of. He just smiles back at you, lifting his shoulders.

“I think… I’m gonna stay here a little longer,” you say after chewing it over. “You guys go ahead.”

Seungkwan looks between the two of you and frowns slightly. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Vernon gently pipes up from your side, sliding over a little so that his palm rests flat on the felt of the table, his forearm supporting your hips from behind. But it isn’t you he addresses, despite this butterfly-inducing contact. All deep and serious, he says, “I promise, she’s safe with me.”

He takes his time to show it on his face, but ultimately this satisfies Seungkwan, who (despite being just about able to support both his and Chan’s weight in his current condition) has before, and still will, ignore his body’s demands in the name of ensuring your safety. But maybe he sees a trustworthiness in Vernon, or maybe he knows that you can and do handle yourself quite well. Whatever it is, he’s happy with this development, and your two friends bundle you in a hug so tight that it squeezes the air out of your lungs before they make their way towards the exit.

Once they’re out of view, you turn back to Vernon again, raising both brows at the man now closer to you than he’s ever been. But it’s far from claustrophobic – not as these things can so often be. No. No.

It’s addictive.

“Oh you promise, huh?” The tease comes out before you can do anything about it. You even end up batting your lashes at him for good measure.

“Cross my heart,” he says with a small shrug of his shoulders. His eyes dip from where they’re boring into your own, glancing down a fraction, just for a moment, and you’re sure you see him start to lean. Drawn to you like an opposing magnet, like a moth to a flame — his breaths feel hotter as they fan against your skin, his cologne starts to smell a little stronger… then, his fingers on the other hand curl around the pool cue he’s been balancing on his side and he drags himself away from you. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kick your ass one more time.”

One more game of pool quickly turns to two, and it even threatens to become a third as you tease, again, that Vernon just got lucky and he flashes you another one of those looks that says ‘oh? Try me’. But as tempting as it is, you don’t think your pride can withstand any more losses. You resign yourself from the table with a huff when he rests his palms flat on the velvet covering, leaning towards you in that mouth-watering way he’s been doing for hours. The thing is, for the size of his pool-playing-ego, Vernon isn’t even that good. Not if you consider the number of completely missed shots, questionable connections and pocketed cues. But, because your own skill level leaves plenty to be desired, he doesn’t have to be up there with the big leagues.

He just needs to be a tiny bit better than you.

Asshole.

An announcement for last orders from behind the bar tells you that it’s nearing one in the morning as he starts to circle around the table and makes his way towards you. The bar has emptied considerably since you arrived, the music has steadily started getting more and more cheesy, people in all four corners of the room have started draping themselves over one another like well-dressed blankets, having already chosen the individuals they’ve decided to take home tonight. By all accounts, it’s the perfect time to leave. If you head out now, you’ll miss the rush of people flooding into the street and, if you’re lucky, the surge in taxi prices. The really good takeout place around the corner doesn’t close for another half hour, too.

There’s just one problem. You don’t want this night to end just yet.

“I think I’m gonna get some fresh air,” you say to Vernon, trying to stretch out a burning knot in your shoulder. “It’s like, a thousand degrees in here.”

Vernon nods. “Yeah – cool. I’ll come with you.”

And with your bag slung over the arm not causing you an ache, you start off down the stairwell. The doors are already open and the late night breeze has you feeling like you’re walking through the gates of heaven as you head outside. You inhale deeply, making the most of this very rare occasion of the city’s air not feeling thick with car fuel and cigarettes. Your eyes fall closed.

“I always liked being out at this time,” Vernon says as he joins you, leaning one shoulder against the brickwork of the outside of the bar. “Feels peaceful.”

“Sure,” you nod, craning your neck to look at him. His face is half-illuminated in the neon red of the bar’s sign above you. The harsh lighting and the shadows cast by his angular features have him looking… sort of sinful, in a weird artsy way that you can’t explain thanks to the pleasant buzzing in your brain. Straight out of an arthouse, indie movie. I bet he likes those, you think absently.

He looks straight into your eyes, intense and focussed as if he’s trying to search them, though for what you’re not sure. Honestly, you think if he gave a few more flutters of those beautiful lashes, you’d bend in-half-and-half-again to give him anything he wanted, so in a way you’re interested to ask what he’s thinking about. You don’t end up saying anything, though. There’s something wonderful in these little unspoken moments with Vernon. Something raw.

Something… unexplainable.

Sitting at the bar and stealing tickled glances as the waitress fumbles and drops a tray full of glasses on the floor. Subtle winks of his right eye (always, you’re discovering, the right?) from across a pool table when he succeeds in making a shot he has absolutely no business pulling off. Standing opposite you in the store you own, waiting to find out when – not if – he’s going to see you, again –

“You know,” he starts, the tiniest edge of nervousness in his voice for the first time tonight. Is the performance adrenaline finally wearing off? Is he… maybe starting to feel a little shy? Whatever it is, your last train of thought melts away into the drain just to his right, and you focus on him as he continues down this new path instead. “I got a new coffee machine in my apartment last weekend and I haven’t had the chance to use it for anyone yet.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” He nods, swallowing. “I uh…” He bounces one fist in the palm of his other hand, searching for the right order to put the words into. “I mean, it’s not like, one of those super fancy ones, or anything… but it’s sorta retro looking? Which is cool, and—”

“Vernon?”

“Yeah?”

“You‘re a little out of practice, huh?”

He chuckles on an outward breath, bowing his head, a grin that threatens to split his pretty face in two taking residence on his lips. “That obvious?”

“A tiny bit,” you say. “It’s cute though.”

He glances up at you, head a little tilted. “Yeah?”

“Mm… getting less-so by the second,” you tease him. “You can just ask me to come with you.”

“I-…” he starts, but he takes a deep breath instead and corrects his posture, as if it’ll prepare him somehow. “Okay. Okay — do you… maybe wanna come back to my place, with me?”

Not without flashing him a look first that says ‘now, was that so hard?’, you find yourself nodding up at him.

“I’d love to,” you say.

He pushes away from the wall and when you do the same, he falls into step, heading in the direction of his apartment. You try to discreetly roll your shoulder out again but it’s obviously not discrete enough; it draws his attention down to your arm, and he frowns slightly.

“Is that giving you trouble?” He asks.

“It’s fine.” You wave him off, stretching the muscle as best as you can by tilting your head as you walk. “It’s been like this for years.”

He scrunches his brows. “Here — can I?” He asks, his fingertip looping beneath the strap of your bag. You look down at your shoulder, then back up at him, before raising one brow, dropping the other.

“I mean — I don’t know if it’s your colour?”

Vernon barks out a ‘ha’, easily slipping your bag down your arm, the tips of his warm fingers brushing against your comparatively cool skin. You make no effort to stop him. He positions it on his own shoulder instead, the one furthest away from you so he can still walk right against your side.

“There’s a reason I wear all black, okay?” He says. “It makes everything my colour.”

His fingers smoothly slip between yours as he says it. It was quite the move, and for a second you’re impressed. At least, until it turns out that this simple action seems to jolt him back to his factory settings, because—

“I’m so serious about this coffee machine, by the way.”

“I know you are,” you laugh, bumping your weight against him and squeezing his hand. “I’m counting on it.”

“Okay, so,” you start, settling into Vernon’s couch and tucking one of your legs up beneath you. You cradle the mug of coffee he’s made you — admittedly, the retro-style machine was pretty cool — between both of your hands, a thumb brushing over the raised pattern on the ceramic. The fresh air from the walk here seems to have decently sobered you; barring a pleasant buzz, you feel almost like you haven’t drunk a thing. “How did you get into music?”

Vernon matches your posture play-for-play, biting the inside of his cheek before he answers. He drank less than you in the first place, but he seems steadier now, as well.

“Uh… a couple things, I guess,” he starts. “I mean, my parents are big into music. Sometimes they'd take me with them to shows and stuff, had a bunch of CD’s all over the house — all that. You know? I really grew up on it, so…"

You nod, tilting your head to gesture for him to continue.

“Then… I don’t know. There’s- okay, I was kind of a loser in high school,” he goes on. You roll your eyes; Vernon nudges your thigh with his knee playfully, shaking his head.

“I just mean, I didn’t have a lot of friends.” He pauses, pursing his lips. “So…, I mean, that’s— that’s whatever. The point is that I spent a lot of time on my own and I basically had an earphone in any time I thought I could get away with it, and–... and sometimes even if I couldn’t.” He chuckles. “Weird. Most of my teachers didn’t like me much either.”

You laugh too now, and Vernon bows his head a little; every single one of his handsome features brightens up and you don’t really know where to look. His never-ending lashes are so long they cast shadows down onto his cheeks, and the ambient lighting reflects off his eyes so beautifully that they look like they’re glimmering.

He goes on, “there was one, though. My bio teacher? She was really cool. She had a lot more time for me than the others did. And uh, she called me into her office after school one day and just said… basically, my options were to start giving a shit about… cells, and mitochon– whatever, or start really working for this great big thing that I spent all my time daydreaming about. And it’s been a little up and down, but…”

He trails off, shrugging on one side.

“I think you’re doing pretty okay,” you chime in, leaning one arm against the back of the couch and resting your head in your palm. “I bet those kids would lose their minds if they could see you now.”

“Oh?” Vernon asks, setting his coffee down on the side-table. You click your tongue at him.

“Don’t– come on.”

“No, seriously,” he laughs. “What do you mean?”

“I mean-…” you start, shaking your head. “Okay. People go out of their way to listen to you. Everyone who comes to one of your shows… that’s an hour, two hours, whatever – of making people feel exactly the way you want them to feel. They... all want to understand you. Right?”

Vernon just looks at you, forehead a tiny bit creased — the cogs in your brain tick away trying to find a better way to explain what you mean, but he finally speaks. (You’re glad, because you were struggling to come up with anything else.)

“Shit, I thought that was just an in to say you thought I was hot, or something.”

You push at his chest lightly, your palm lingering on his vest a moment longer than is, perhaps, strictly necessary.

“Shut up,” you groan. But a second later… “I guess there’s that, too.”

He sits back a little, pushing his hair off his forehead with a chuckle. “I dunno, I mean — I sort of… is it weird if I don’t really think about it that way?”

“Of course not,” you tell him.

He gets that look back on his face again; the pensive one, where he appears like he’s seconds away from saying something else, something important. But he falters, and when he glances back at you, his engine stalls.

Then, with a shake of his head, he says, “wow, okay, enough about me. I’m so sorry. Can I ask you a question?”

You take another sip of your coffee and set it down, too, nodding ‘yes’. To be honest, you were quite enjoying talking about him; at the same time, you know what it is to feel a little too perceived sometimes, so you let him move on without argument.

“How do you just… own a record store?”

You laugh. It’s been a while since you’ve had to explain this one. (When was the last time one of your dates was interested enough to ask?)

“I’m not as good a storyteller as you are,” you preface, mirroring him when he rolls his eyes, pretending not to notice that he shuffles even closer. You launch into it easily enough — the old store owner was a friend of the family, he let you work there while you were in college, took you on full-time after you dropped out. When his eyesight started deteriorating, he chose to retire and told you it was yours, if you wanted it.

“Place would’ve closed down, otherwise,” you shrug. “But I couldn’t do it on my own, so I brought the guys in to help. Two years later... yeah. I guess that's how.”

The whole time as you talk, his eyes don’t leave you. He’s quite expressive, you find — whether he’s lifting a perfectly shaped brow, nodding along to what you’re saying, smiling at you… you feel listened to. When he’s sat across from you, you feel heard; you feel known.

“Well, first — take it back. You’re a great storyteller,” he says. You feel your face grow warm and you nudge him with your knee, but you don’t argue — you aren’t convinced he’d let you win, anyway. “But that’s… really cool? Actually.”

“Oh yeah, I heard nine-to-five retail is the coolest thing you can do, these days,” you laugh.

Vernon scoffs at you. “You close at six thirty.”

(How on Earth does he remember that?)

To avoid thinking about it too much, and so you don’t have to try to navigate asking, you roll your eyes.

“You’re right,” you say to him. “That’s way better.”

“Do you like what you do?” He asks, and you tilt your head at him. “Well — okay. If you ignore the… boring, back-office stuff.”

“Yeah,” you say after a pause. “I guess I do.”

“Then it’s cool.”

Your coffees both go cold as you talk more, and more, and more — he asks about your life, and growing up, your friends, and he answers all of your questions in turn when you ask them. He has an interesting way of talking about himself outside of his job; it’s not so much that you have to pry for information, but he’s not super forthcoming. It’s as if he’s taking all of your questions at face value, like he doesn’t know how to go about expanding on them.

Maybe he’s just more of a listener, you contemplate once he turns yet another of your questions back on you and you teasingly pull him up on it. It flusters him, which you can’t help but find very endearing.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I just… you have such a pretty… voice?” he confesses, rubbing the back of his neck, ears burning pink.

“Oh?” You ask, stumped for a moment as your heart lurches in your chest. When he nods, you find the gall from somewhere to say, “takes one to know one.”

(You’re not sure how.)

And on it goes. On, and on, and on. More questions, more answers, more lighthearted shoves and lingering touches and shy glances away from each others’ scorching gazes as heat rushes to your cheeks. He even shows you his record collection and puts on one of his favourite albums for background noise before you settle back into the couch. It’s so natural, even when the vinyl runs to the end and the only noise from the player is a distant crackle. Being in his space and having mindless conversation after mindless conversation feels almost as comfortable as being in your own home.

You notice something, as you’re rounding off a monologue about why your highschool math teacher was the worst person you’d ever met. A tiny hair on the apple of his cheek. One of those lashes you envy so much. Even as you try to focus back on your closing remarks, your eyes keep dropping to it and you trail off into silence a few words short.

“I’m sorry, you’ve-… got an eyelash,” you say, tapping roughly the same spot on your own cheek.

“Mm. I have a few of them,” Vernon counters, wiping the heel of his thumb against his skin. He misses, though, and drops his arm back down with the lash still stuck to his face.

You move before you can stop yourself, hand lifting up to his face and hovering just a few centimetres away.

“Can I?” you ask.

Vernon nods, wordlessly. He goes cross-eyed and his lids twitch in a flutter as he watches you get closer; you brush the lash onto your thumb and he only breathes again when you rebalance it on the tip of your finger. You hold it up to him, settling back into your own part of the couch; he just stares back at you.

“Make a wish,” you prompt.

His confusion is poorly concealed, head cocked to one side as he looks from the lash to you and back again. “Huh?”

“Don’t you…?”

He shakes his head.

“Okay, wow,” you laugh, glancing down at your finger too. “You have to make a wish on your eyelashes when they fall out.”

“No, I got that part,” Vernon snickers. “I just mean — why?”

“I—” you start to explain, but you fall short of an explanation and frown instead, biting the inside of your cheek. “… I don’t know. It’s just what you’re supposed to do. I’ve always done it.”

The downturn of your lips doesn’t last very long, though.

“Well, what if it’s not an eyelash? What if it’s like… one of my eyebrows, or something?” He asks.

It's such a simple but off-the-wall response that you can't help but laugh, except it comes on so suddenly you start to choke on your own saliva. One of his hands circles around you and rubs soothingly between your shoulder blades as you cough, succeeding in bringing him even closer and failing to lower the fever you’re starting to feel creep up on you. By some miracle, you don’t drop the lash, even as you hack pathetically into the crook of your elbow; Vernon waits for it to subside, a weirdly fond look on his face all the while.

Now, when you turn your head, he’s right there. In your space. His arm still around your back, the glint of the bar pierced through his brow drawing your attention up away from those smiling lips.

“I guess it just doesn’t come true? I don’t know,” you say, shaking your head. “I’ve never tried wishing on an eyebrow before.”

“I’m just saying,” he starts, falling back against the cushions now he knows you’re not suffocating. His arm doesn’t move, though. If anything, he sort of pulls you with him. “What if it ends up like a reverse wish. Whatever I ask for, the opposite comes true, or something.”

“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it,” you say, starting to bring your finger closer to yourself.

Quicker than you can blink, he reaches to you and lightly lays his fingers around your wrist, stopping you in your path.

“Wait,” he says, pouting a little. “I didn’t say that.”

Both of you glance down to this new point of contact. Two sets of lips stay parted but two identical breaths remain held, burning in both your lungs and in Vernon’s. His gaze shifts back up to your face, eyes wide and wholly serious and unblinking.

“What do I do?” He asks on the eventual exhale. It reminds you to breathe again, too.

“Close your eyes.”

It takes him a second to obey, but he does. His eyes flutter closed and you clear your throat, lifting your finger until it’s just in front of his face.

“Make a wish.”

A few seconds later, his brows relax and he nods.

“Then… blow.”

His lips purse and he pushes a breath through them, lifting the stray lash off your skin and sending it out into the room. He opens his eyes, then, smiling in a manner that you can tell is absolutely despite himself.

He doesn’t move away, and his cologne, fresh and citrusy, mixes tantalisingly with the sandalwood candle he lit on your way back to the couch a little while ago, both accented by the chewing gum he popped to get rid of the mocha aftertaste still lingering on his breath.

“What did you wish for?” You ask, dropping your hand back down to your side.

He frowns.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you,” he says. “Pretty sure that’s against like… wish laws, or something.”

“Boring,” you chide, slumping your shoulders, but he just grins at you, darting his tongue out over his lips.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his Adam’s apple bob in a thick swallow and you can feel the gentle brushing of his thumb. The slow movements, up and down over the exposed area on your hip where your shirt has started to ride up, make you shiver, and you know your chest stutters when his fingers move to press wholly against your bare skin. You know he notices, because he does it again. And again, and again.

It's maddening. You end up stuck in this never-ending feeling of falling head-first into his arms.

“Where do you think the laws stand on showing you, though?” He asks, inching a little closer.

You hold your breath, little more than anticipatory static flooding your brain.

“I think they’re okay with it.”

You mirror, slowly, hooked in the gaze that has adrenaline dripping down the length of your spine like honey, and you can’t bring yourself to look away until you can practically taste him. He closes the space between you in half speed, but gently, like you’re both made of tissue, he brings his thumb and forefinger to your chin and touches his lips to yours. His nose presses against your cheek.

It’s comfortable. It’s warm. It’s easy, it’s exhilarating, it’s perfect. You feel like your heart just might burst clean out of your chest—

But… you can’t.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasp, tugging yourself away and clamping your hands over your mouth. “Shit — I’m-… I’m sorry.”

Out of nowhere, you’re fighting to catch a breath, head spinning in circles, and no longer in the good way. Have those beers finally come back to bite you in the ass? Or, deeper down, do you know your sudden intoxication isn’t alcohol related at all? Vernon shoots back from you like you’ve gone up in flames and he might catch, too — his eyes search your face as you scramble to get to your feet, and he looks… scared.

“Are you okay?” He asks. You don’t respond right away, already looking around the apartment for where you left your shoes, already trying to locate your bag too. (As you try to swim towards the surface, you forget that it wasn’t you who still had hold of it when you came through the door and placed it on the loveseat back in the living room.) “Hey… is everything-…?”

“I’m fine,” you interrupt. You’re not. “I just-… I remembered-… I have to go.”

You catch sight of your shoes, hidden behind the ones Vernon kicked off just after you, and you hurry across the apartment to get to them.

No bag. Where’s your bag? Where did you leave it? But… ah, your keys are in one back pocket and your phone is in the other and maybe it’s not the end of the world if you never see that lipstick again—

“It’s really late,” Vernon says as you bend down to re-tie one of your laces, hovering just a few steps behind you. “Are you gonna be okay to get home?”

“I’ll be fine,” you rush. “I’ll get a cab.”

“Well, at least let me wait with you until it—”

“I said I’m fine,” you insist, you snap, only now looking up at him again. He tenses, but his eyes stay soft. It’s not in the same way you’ve seen them all night, though. Not in a nice way. Not glittering and full of intrigue. No. He’s hurt. And like a wounded animal, he takes several stiff, unsure steps back away from you, swallowing hard and looking anywhere, everywhere else.

“I’m fine,” you say again, trying to sound a little quieter, a little calmer. Even if that is miles away from the truth.

“Okay,” he says, unconvinced and wringing his hands in front of his stomach. “If-… I’m sorry if that was-… I didn’t mean to make you-…”

You shake your head, standing back up to your full height, but you don’t close the gap between you. You don’t reach out to him, even though you want to. You just have to blindly hope he can read your mind somehow — there’s no way to explain it quickly enough without leaving you both in a mess, and right now...

“Hey,” you say, forcing him to look at you once more. “It’s not-… it isn’t you. I just have to go, okay?”

He doesn’t seem overly reassured by this, but he nods anyway. “Can-… you text me when you get home?” He asks. Then, hurried: “Just so I know you’re back safe. That’s all.”

You swallow hard.

“Yeah,” you say on an outward breath, cringing at how exasperated it sounds. You don’t mean it to — you’re really not mad at him. “I will. I’ll message you.”

Biting the inside of his bottom lip, Vernon takes another step back. He doesn’t say anything else, just shoves his hands as far into the pockets of his jeans as he can and watches you.

“I’ll message you,” you repeat, opening the door, speaking more to yourself than to him. “I promise.”

Then, you’re stumbling out into his hallway. Hurrying down the too-narrow staircase. Leaning your back against the brickwork outside, a light drizzle of rain splashing all over your bare arms. The stone prickles through your t-shirt as you slide down, as you feebly try to suck thick, damp air into your lungs, as your head starts to ache, as a dull throb starts to reside behind your eyes.

It takes ten minutes of staring into the empty road in front of you before you feel steady enough to attempt to wrestle your phone out of your pocket. No matter how many buttons you press, no matter how many times you tap it, the screen refuses to come to life and you only now manage to recall the ‘low battery’ notification that came through several hours ago. Briefly, it crosses your mind to go back upstairs and ask if you can request a ride on Vernon’s phone. You know he’d say yes. Hell, he’d probably throw a blanket over your shivering shoulders and fix you another cup of coffee while you waited, too. But you can’t. The look on his face as you slid out his front door is burned into your memory like a brand and there surely couldn’t be anything worse than having to go back in there and face him like this.

Five more minutes pass before you find the energy to stand, to stretch out your bunched up muscles, and start on the walk home. Another thirty until you’re trudging, sodden and blurry eyed and heavy-hearted, through your apartment door. Three and a half after that before you finally manage to text Vernon to say your phone died, but you’re back, you’re safe. That you’re sorry.

Barely ten seconds tick by before it pops up that he reads your message. (Followed by ninety seconds of staring down at the bubble that says he’s typing, waiting for a reply that ultimately doesn’t come.)

And four hours later, you’re still wide awake, lying under your covers, staring blankly up at the ceiling. You think you ought to be giddy, squirming, hiding your smile in your pillow — that’s how first kisses are supposed to make you feel. Isn’t it? Alas, you’re flooded instead with visions of the last time a first kiss felt like it made this much sense; in place of all the endorphins you’re sure should be ricocheting off every inner surface of your brain, all you know is heartache and dread.

So you stare, and you stare, and you keep on staring; even when your eyes start to burn, you stare a little more.

thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! as always, likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are so so appreciated. parts 2 and 3 are very nearly finished, as well, so stay tuned.<3

#vernon fanfic #vernon imagines #vernon x you #vernon fluff #vernon angst #vernon x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #kpop fanfic #j writes.#re. high fidelity.#*

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hyunsvngs · 3 months

Note

you and your boyfriend jisung are no strangers to adventurous sex, be it trying and switching between different dom/sub roles, exploring kinks with each other, roleplaying, using toys on either, or watching porn together. but, for the first time, his newest idea left you pretty shocked.

you both are a little tipsy after deciding to crack open the bottle of whiskey that’s been sitting in your kitchen, which is probably why he felt comfortable in suggesting this to you to begin with. you look at him, eyes wide, mouth open slightly, trying to replay his words in your head to make sure you heard him right. he looks at you awaiting your answer, hopeful but nervous. “so… you want to just… watch?” you ask him, still unsure if you’re imagining things. “y-yeah. i think- i think it’d be really hot…”

you can’t say that you haven’t thought about how attractive minho is. he’s very obviously a beautiful man with his starry, cat-like eyes that feel like they’re piercing right through you, his strong arms and the veins that protrude in his hands and forearms, his thighs that are all muscle, and his stupid fucking cunning personality that makes you feel a little weak in the knees when he decides to tease you, even though it’s in a friendly way. you recognize all of these things, annoyingly, but you love jisung more than anything in the entire world and would never make any move that would hurt him, especially flirting with his best friend.

so when he suggested watching you and minho having sex, you felt a mixture of emotions. confused, horny, anxious, horny, worried, horny and… oh, horny. “i dunno, i think it would be so sexy to watch you feel good and…” he looks down and away a little, embarrassed at his next words “i think you two would look so pretty together,” in a voice so quiet you barely heard the last part. “i- are you sure?” you ask, still dumbfounded. “yes, i’ve thought about it for awhile already” he looks back at you shyly and you search his eyes for confirmation. “if you’re sure you’re okay with this, i think it could be fun, but if y-“ his eyes full with excitement and relief before he cuts you off with a deep kiss, moving to lay you back on your couch and crawling on top of you.

after some sober discussions and jisung talking to minho privately, ensuring that he is also into the idea, you find yourself on your knees on the bed, minho behind you, thrusting his hard cock into and holding your arms behind you for leverage while you moan and whimper, looking at jisung when you find the strength to open your eyes. he’s sitting just at the end of the bed, palming his erection through his sweatpants while watching your face contort with pleasure. you want to focus on him more but you feel your brain melting in your skull with every thrust of minho’s very skilled hips. “tell him how good it feels, kitty.” minho growls while moving one hand from your arm into your hair, pulling lightly which rips another moan from your throat as he continues you push into you roughly. “i-it feels so good, sungie. he’s fucking me so good i can hardly think straight.” jisung groans as he palms himself harder “yeah, baby? he’s fucking you so good you can hardly keep your pretty eyes open?” he moves to put his hand into his sweats, searching for some relief to his aching, leaking cock.

minho pulls out and you whine in protest, but before you can formally complain, he flips you over onto your back, settles your knees on his shoulders, and buries himself back inside of you before grabbing your hips with both hands, resuming his rough pace. you can’t hold back the series of moans that are elicited by the new angle. “fuuuuck that feels fucking amazing, holy shit.” your toes are curling and you hands search for something to hold onto before settling for grabbing the bedsheets. you feel weight shifting above your head on the bed before hearing jisung’s voice right next to your ear in nearly a whisper “oh, my baby, you’re feeling so good. you’re gonna cum soon, aren’t you?” “ye-yeah, yes… i’m gonna cum so good, baby” you whine in response. jisung’s hands move to snake over you body, abandoning his poor cock, unrelieved and still trapped in his pants. his hands find your breasts and he begins alternating between kneading them and playing with your erect nipples. his lips find fond your neck and he peppers it with kisses before lightly sliding his tongue across the smooth skin and sucking gently on the part that he knows is sensitive. minho’s unrelenting pace coupled with the attention that your beloved boyfriend is now paying to you body has you falling apart in seconds, your high causing your body to feel white hot and your vision yo go fuzzy. minho fucks you through your high and follows with his own soon after, pulling out and spilling his cum onto your stomach.

your eyes close as you come down, jisung rubbing your arma soothingly and trailing light kisses over your cheeks and forehead. minho moves to grab a towel and cleans his seed off of your body gently. “was all of that okay?” minho asks, eyes flicking back and forth between you and jisung. “it was incredible.” you assure him. “so fucking hot. i was right by the way. you two are so fucking pretty together.” jisunng groans. “we uh- we could do this again sometime… if you guys are up for it.” minho blurts out, sounding unsure if this is too close to crossing a line. “oh this is definitely happening again” jisung responds quickly (maybe too quickly?) before giving you one last big kiss on the cheek.

ANON WHO ARE U…. U R A BEAUTKFJL MYSTERY

im just posting some of the longer asks in my inbox to tide u guys over til i feel better <3 on that note its juno passing out for a nap time

#juno’s asks ♡#sweet baby anon #asks: minsung

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sethsclearwater · 8 months

Note

Omg can I request a fic based on the recent Paul x Reader where they're insecure about having a baby. What if the roles were switched and Paul was having baby fever but too nervous to bring up to the reader? How would he tell the reader he wants a baby?

you and paul were at sam and emily's house for their baby's third birthday party. although the entire pack was pretty much over there all the time anyways, today was a bit of a special occasion seeing as oliver had just turned three and sue, billy, and old quil were also making an appearance for the party.

while you sat on the porch with emily as the party began to die down, paul was out in the yard playing with oliver. paul (and you of course) absolutely adored oliver but paul and him had a bit of a special bond that you loved seeing grow. oliver was running around the yard with paul right behind him, oliver bursting into a fit of giggles everytime paul "caught" up to him and picked him up.

after nearly 20 minutes of this, oliver seemed to finally be getting a bit tired and curled up in paul's arms so he could carry him back over to his parents. when paul saw you on the porch, he smiled at you, "everything okay?" he asked as he handed a half-asleep oliver off to sam, him and emily heading inside to put him down for his nap.

you nodded, smiling, "everything is great," you reassured, laughing when paul picked you up so he could sit down in the rocking chair you were just sitting in, pulling you into his lap.

"you're so good with him you know," you mused, running your hand up his chest to wrap around his neck and gently thread your fingers into his short hair.

"you think?" paul asked, a soft smile on his face as he took in your words. ever since you'd known paul, you'd known he was pretty hard on himself when it came to being a role model for any kids in his life so you knew your comment meant a lot to him.

"positive," you cooed, leaning up to press a quick kiss that he made quick work of deepening, tightening his grip on you so he could pull you closer to him as the two of you melted into eachother.

you giggled against his lips, letting out a soft sigh when he allowed you to part from his lips so you could catch your breath, "what's got you all worked up?" you asked teasingly, your voice barely above a whisper as he rested his forehead against yours.

he paused for a moment before responding, you assumed it was because he was thinking about how to word his response, "would you ever..." he trailed off when he couldn't find the right words, his free hand subconsciously coming to rest on your abdomen as he thought some more.

you smiled to yourself when you realized what he was trying to ask you, "have a baby with you?" you finished, smiling when he quickly nodded.

"don't wanna pressure you if you don't want to-" he started, both of your voices still hushed as you spoke about your future together.

you were quick to cut him off, already knowing he'd be beating himself up for asking you in the first place if you didn't reassure him, "of course i will," you giggled, pressing another quick kiss to his lips before continuing, "was waiting for you to bring it up," you added teasingly, giggling when he pulled you into a tight hug against his chest, smushing his lips against your hair for a kiss.

"you're serious?" he mumbled against your hair, only loosening his grip on you when he realized you likely wouldn't be able to respond with the way he had you constricted.

you let out another series of giggles, "absolutely," you cooed, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone as he took in a few deep breaths, clearly relieved to hear your response, "now are you gonna take me home so we can get started?" you asked teasingly, barely finishing your question before paul was getting up with you in his arms and carrying you back to your car so the two of you could get to work.

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote blurb #paul lahote fluff #twilight #the twilight saga #twilight imagine #twilight blurb #twilight wolves #twilight wolfpack #twilight wolves imagine #fluff #imagine #blurb

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reyanfia · 1 year

Text

the warrior and his healer — neteyam x reader ☄. *. ⋆➢ part one!

other chapters are up! read it here -> chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4

setting: awa'atlu, pandora

pairing: neteyam x fem!metkayina!reader

warnings: nothing much in this part, but if we are talking about the entire series, mentions of bl00d, a bit of angst, teyam survives!

summary: the newcomer seems to enjoy your company! he seems to like what you do, too. let's hope nothing bad happens to your study buddy.

a/n: I actually requested this to @bonnibuckets, and they did great at writing it! but I wanted to try and write it myself. pls enjoy ^^ by the way, I'm replacing y/n with _____ because I personally find y/n weird to read. and yes, it is like loaksky's style, but I don't think it should be a problem. :)) a lot of the medicinal stuff in here is made up since little about healing is known in avatar.

"ah! here she is." tsireya smiled as she skipped into your marui, dragging the eldest sully boy from behind her.

you looked up from your papers, meeting eyes with them both. figuring she brought him to you to fix up some injuries, you placed your studying materials aside.

you hadn't acquainted yourself with any for the sully kids, but you have watched them train with tsireya, ao'nung and rotxo.

from your observations, you thought that the younger sully boy, lo'ak, was the first one who tsireya would bring into your marui for any injuries that had to be healed. it didn't cross your mind that the eldest would be hurt before him.

you weren't an official healer, to be exact. but you are training to be one. ronal, the tsahìk, had announced that due to the lack of healers in the village, she will be choosing a few more girls to help out the elders. but to be qualified to do so, they must have enough knowledge about medicine and healing.

tsireya dubbed you to be the best among the other girls, as to probably why she brought neteyam to you.

tsireya's beaming smile stayed on as she sat neteyam down in front of you. "here, he scuffed himself by the corals. would you mind patching him up, ______?"

you glanced at his bleeding forearm and back to her. "no, I don't mind." you gave her a small smile, which she enthusiastically returned before she ran off.

you then got up and went to your shelves. "i'd thought that your brother would come running in bleeding first," you stated as you grabbed the covered bowl of healing salve.

neteyam laughed. "well, he did get hurt. but it seems tsireya has taken him for herself to tend to."

you smiled, and though you were facing away from him, he could see it. "she has talked a lot about him the past few days. i've heard more about him than the firstborn son of toruk makto."

you set all the things you needed onto the floor. you sat where you previously were, preparing to tend to the cuts on the arm.

he felt his face warm when you said it. "you don't have to call me that," he could barely look into your eyes, something you found odd. you'd expected him to be a little more confident than his brother. seems the roles have switched.

"why not? i suspect people call you that all the time back in the forest." you dipped the cloth into the bowl of water, and started dabbing around the wound to clean it.

the boy before you winced. "ah— well, yeah. i guess it feels weird to have somebody new saying it to me." he replied, clearing his throat after.

you nodded. you also took notice of the abnormal rasp in his voice, possibly because of all the breath-holding and accidental swallowing of the ocean water.

after you finished cleaning the wound, you took a small amount of the healing salve. "this is going to feel a little cold," you warned, applying it onto the cuts. it only soothed the pain more. neteyam felt instant relief as you gently rubbed it into his azure skin, the sting immediately going away.

as you were busy tending to the injury, he sat still. but his eyes roamed and observed.

he watched your brows furrow in focus, your clean hand going up to your hair to tuck it behind your ear every now and then. he looked at the plants and scriptures you were studying, there was a pile of it by your right.

you reminded him of himself. hard-working and busy.

"what's all that?" he asked, pointing towards the pile of things. your head snapped up to him first, then to where he pointed. "oh that, it's uh— stuff that i need to know to become a healer. tsireya thinks im good at it — probably why she brought you to me."

neteyam glanced from your face, and down to your hands. you were done with the paste — you took a long strip of soft dried seaweed, wrapped it around the wound and secured it in place by expertly tucking the ends in.

"all done. better?" you released his arm, letting him have a look at your handiwork. "much better. tsireya may be right." you smiled at his indirect compliment, as to which he did back.

"maybe i should go now?" neteyam suggested. you were about to let him, but his voice reminded you about that medicine you needed to try out.

"oh! before you go, try this medicine that i made. it'll help with your hoarse voice."

you reached from behind him, revealing a large, curved flower petal that contained a golden-amber like liquid. "it matches his eyes." you thought as you handed it to him. he drank it.

it was surprisingly sweet, it tasted like what humans would call honey, and it alleviated the discomfort in his throat. "how is it? does your throat feel any better?"

he stared at the ground for a few seconds. how on pandora did you manage to come up with such a thing? it worked like a charm.

he nodded vigorously. "it's amazing. now tsireya was definitely right."

you laughed along with him, glad that the mixture you made helped.

you may have just made yourself a new friend.

— ☄. . ⋆✧ .

neteyam can feel kiri's eyes piercing through the side of his face. sighing, he turned to her. "kiri, did i do something wrong?"

she shrugged and looked to his wrapped wound. "you seem oddly happy."

he shook his head at her answer, lying down onto the marui floor. "hm. i wonder why."

and he knows exactly why.

it was calming being in your presence. tranquility was a stranger to him. with all the pressure and expectations, neteyam has not known a day of peace. no one he knew before gave him peace. except now that he's met you. that's fun.

kiri wasn't stupid though. copying him, she sighed. "I wasn't born last night neteyam. what's her name?"

he froze. he remembers tsireya mentioning your name when she dropped him off at your marui, but he forgot it. somehow.

"oh damn. I'm not sure. she's that girl that tsireya always hangs out with. we've seen them together a couple times—"

she cuts him off. "_____? the healer in training?" neteyam nodded against the marui floor, slightly scratching his head in the process. "yep. her."

kiri turns her head upwards, as if remembering how your face looked like. "hm. she's pretty. would be surprised if she liked you back though."

"oh cut it out, kiri." neteyam swatted at her arm. "I don't like her."

she rolled her eyes in response. "yeah well, not yet."

"who are we talking about?" both kiri and neteyam get hit by a blast of cold wind when lo'ak opened the marui entrance. "ah! there you are. had fun on your date with tsireya?" kiri teased, barely dodging whatever it was that lo'ak had thrown her way.

"shut up! it wasn't a date." neteyam couldn't see much while lying down, but he saw enough to catch a glimpse of his brother's blushing face. he chuckled to himself at his siblings continue to bicker.

and as eclipse settled in, he slowly fell asleep then, his last thought being about you.

©ronalsgirl

tagging: @azaleaniath @theycallmesia

those who request to be in the taglist under this chapter, will be tagged in the next one. thank you!

next part will be out soon :] [next part is out! check top of this post.]

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lucidlivi · 9 months

Text

I Can See You (I)

Series Masterlist/Warnings

Tag List: @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @perpetualabsurdity @antisocialcorrupt @heavenlyackles @anixiiee @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @deans-spinster-witch @k-slla @alternativeprincess @spnbaby-67 @cevansbaby-dove @cutedisneygrl (if you would like tagged in this, please send me a message or an ask with the title so I can make sure to keep my tags straight!)

story takes place during filming of season two of supernatural so the ages will make more sense!

switching points of view indicated with italics

a little mini series for you, I hope you like!

All my life, the only thing I ever wanted was to be noticed.

I wanted my parents to notice when I had done well on a test that was hard for me.

I wanted my friends to notice when I was quiet or felt out of the loop.

I desperately wanted that cute guy in my biology class to notice that I had spent the entire semester taking detailed notes just so I could help him study.

I just wanted someone, anyone to notice me.

It was never me though.

It was always my older brother Jared.

It was like he always had to one up me.

Nothing was ever mine.

For example, whenever I would ace a test, Jared would somehow be offered some prestigious award for academics.

He hung out with all the popular guys, and the girls practically threw themselves at him.

It was like he didn’t even have to try.

It's only gotten worse since he'd landed a starring role on the new hit show Supernatural.

Jared didn't know if they would even make it past the first season, but the show was an instant success. It catapulted him to stardom. Girls from all over the world were crazed about my brother.

It kind of grossed me out.

I had to admit, I was getting a lot of recognition now too, but it was always (y/n) Padalecki, sister of Jared, and never just (y/n).

I mean I love my brother to death, he's the best, but sometimes it would feel nice not to be so, so invisible.

I stretched my muscles with a sigh.

I had finally landed in Canada.

I was going to be visiting Jared for awhile, while they filmed season two of supernatural. I missed him like crazy.

I was also taking a much needed break from fashion school in New York.

"Moose!" I squealed, spotting the top of my brother's head.

I could hear Jared groan from across the airport. I chuckled as he hated being called Moose.

I pushed through the crowd of people, finally seeing my brothers dorky face.

He rolled his eyes before pulling me in to a bone crushing hug.

"I missed you moose." I said as I squeezed him.

"I missed you too brat." Jared laughs.

He lets me go, setting me back on my feet.

"come on, Jensen's waiting for us back at our house." Jared said grabbing my bag.

"wait you and Jensen are living together?" I asked, my cheeks tinting with a blush.

"yeah, we decided to just rent a place together this season, it'll be easier, is that okay?"

"mmhmm." I nodded not trusting my voice to formulate an actual answer.

Jensen Ackles.

my brother's crazy hot co-star.

and according to him, best friend, besides me of course.

I met Jensen before they started filming season one.

Jared and Jensen went on "bonding" trips together, I guess to make playing brother's more believable. I had been invited on a few. Of course I was always pushed to wayside, but I didn't mind.

It gave me the opportunity to gawk at the eye candy that is Jensen Ackles.

He wasn't just hot though.

He was more complex then that.

He was kind, he was funny, he was easy to get along with.

and I was completely crushing on him.

It didn’t matter though.

It wasn't like he noticed me.

I was completely off his radar.

"how's design school?" Jared asked breaking the silence.

"I just needed a break I guess. It's a cutthroat industry, and I don't know if I'm cut out for it." I admitted.

"what of course you are, you're insanely talented! I mean why do think I always call you before award shows? I trust you to make sure I don't look like a dork!" Jared laughed.

"well I hate to break it to you moose, but you always look like a dork, the clothes aren't going to help you." I smirked, earning a punch to the arm.

"ugh thanks to you the entire supernatural cast calls me moose now!" Jared groans.

"well if the shoe fits." I shrugged earning another punch to the arm.

"I could always call you gigantor, if you like that better." I added pushing my brother's buttons.

"I think we'll stick with moose."

Jared pulls in to a condominium.

It's beautiful, fit for celebrities I guess.

"wow, living the high life I see." I said as my eyes traveled around the luxurious condo.

"It's definitely crazy."

I gazed at my brother, seeing his shoulders slumped over.

I can't imagine how he was feeling.

I mean his life basically changed overnight. He can't go out now without girls flocking him. He has no privacy.

I know he won’t let it show, but I could tell the pressure that comes along with his new found fame gets to him sometimes.

I walked over to my brother wrapping my arms around his tall frame, squeezing him again.

"I'm really glad you're here brat, it's kind of nice to have some sense of normalcy." Jared said running a hand through my hair.

"hate you." I whispered with a smile.

"hate you too." Jared smirked.

I stepped away from Jared, just as the door flung open revealing Jensen.

"is that baby moose I hear out here? "

I swallowed harshly as he came over wrapping his arms around me in a hug. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks and I hugged him back, nonchalantly taking in his sweet scent.

"Hi J." I said quietly.

Jensen stepped back, letting his eyes rake over me. I couldn't help but shrink under his gaze.

It was intimidating.

I took this time to stare at him too.

He's different.

His muscles were more defined now, signifying he'd been working out for the role.

His hair was still short but messy.

He had a very light stubble on his face that made his jawline more defined.

He looked good.

Better than good.

He looked sexy.

I heard Jared clear his throat loudly, making me tear my eyes away from Jensen. A heat spread throughout my body.

I wondered what Jensen was thinking.

"Jensen and I have a meeting with the director, I'll uh help you take your things in and then you can get settled while we're gone." Jared said.

I nodded my head as Jared grabbed my bag from the trunk, taking it inside.

"it's nice to see you baby moose." Jensen said offering me a cheeky smile before getting in the car.

I bit my lip, hiding the blush that spread to my cheeks. I followed Jared in to the house, which was even more extravagant on the inside.

"I guess it pays to be famous." I said spinning around to get a complete view.

"I'm not famous, just lucky." Jared laughed.

"yeah that's why a fangirl followed me around in the grocery store the other day, asking me a million questions about you."

"wait that actually happens?" Jared laughed.

"more times than I would care to admit." I said joining in Jared's laughter.

our laughter died down, a comfortable silence settling in between us.

"uh your room is upstairs, the third door on the right, next to Jensen's, you sure you're going to be okay here?" Jared asked handing me my duffle bag.

"I think I'll manage."

"I'll be back soon."

Jared placed a kiss on my forehead, before going out to join Jensen in the car. I watched them drive away before going to find my room.

Jensen

Jared got in the car giving me a stern look.

"what?" I asked innocently.

"don't what me, dude that's my sister." Jared growled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I smirked.

"just keep your eyes away from my sister."

"I wasn't even looking." I laughed as I pulled out of the drive way heading over to the studio.

I was looking though.

She was different.

She looked different.

Her hair was longer.

She definitely grew in to her body.

She was no longer the lanky girl I had come to know.

I would be lying if I said my eyes didn't linger on her now defined chest.

She looked good.

Better than good.

She looked beautiful.

Fuck.

I shouldn't be thinking like this.

I mean this was my best friend's sister.

I know Jared would kill me if he knew I was thinking this way.

I better stop.

I didn’t want to though.

"hello, earth to Jensen." Jared said waving a hand in front of my face.

"sorry man, what did you say?"

"I asked if you were coming."

I looked up seeing we were in the parking lot of the studio.

I wasn't sure when we arrived, or how we arrived in one piece considering I wasn't paying attention.

"uh yeah sorry, just thinking about this meeting." I lied smoothly.

I just hope I can focus enough so I don't lose my job.

Reader

I finally settled in, unpacking my things and familiarizing myself with the layout of the house. It's been over two hours and the boys still aren't home.

I heard my stomach rumble.

I was starving.

I walked down to the kitchen, opening the fridge. I saw some ham and cheese.

Oh gosh a sandwich sounds good right now. I looked around in the cabinets, looking for the bread.

I finally found it, high up on a shelf.

Moose.

He needs to learn that not everyone is as freakishly tall as he is.

I stood on my tiptoes reaching for it, but alas I didn't get the height genes that Jared had. I huffed blowing a piece of hair from my face. I stood on my tiptoes trying again.

I heard a chuckle from behind me, causing me to snap my head back.

"need some help there baby moose?"

I blushed a deep red as Jensen came up behind me, reaching the bread with ease.

I could feel the heat radiating from his body just from the proximity.

I wondered what it would be like to be this close to him in a heated moment.

I let my imagination run wild for a moment before realizing he still lingered behind me.

He cleared his throat before stepping away.

I let out a shaky breath I didn't know I was holding.

"thanks." I whispered shyly.

"you know for a baby moose, you aren't all that tall." Jensen smirked.

"yeah, no Jar stole all those genes." I said causing him to chuckle.

"well baby moose I will gladly reach the bread for you anytime." Jensen said making me blush harder.

I'm sure I looked like an idiot from how bad I was blushing over his words.

"uh is Jared back?" I managed to choke out.

"uh not yet, they needed him to shoot a promo for the new season, he asked me to come check on you." Jensen said sitting down at the kitchen island.

I rolled my eyes at his protectiveness.

I was twenty two now.

I didn't need a babysitter.

"Jared still thinks I need a babysitter." I spoke as I took out two pieces of bread starting to make a sandwich.

"he's just worried about you."

"I can handle myself."

"I have no doubt about that." Jensen said.

I snuck a glance at him, accidentally meeting his eyes. He wore a smirk on his plump lips that got my heart racing.

"I have to, I mean now that you two are like major celebrities." I laughed.

"okay, hang on I was major celebrity before supernatural." Jensen joked.

I rolled my eyes throwing my cheese wrapper at him.

He dodged it with ease laughing at my antics.

"of course how I could I forget your starring role on Dawson's Creek."

"I don't know because I definitely made season six of that show." Jensen laughed.

“I never watched it.” I shrugged.

Okay that wasn’t exactly the truth.

I did watch it.

I watched it for him.

“well we’ll definitely have to change that.” Jensen said getting up from the island.

I let my eyes linger on his form as it retreated up the stairs.

I was hopeless.

I was completely hooked on someone I would never have.

I sighed sitting down and digging in to my sandwich. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.

I heard the door open, seeing Jared walk in.

He sat down beside me taking the other half of my sandwich.

“I made that for me you ass!” I whined hitting his chest.

“yeah out of my fridge!”

I rolled my eyes.

He had a point.

“how was your meeting?” I asked as we ate.

“really good, we’re all excited for filming to start.”

I wondered what it would be like to be on camera. I definitely didn’t have a face or body for film.

“actually there’s this party tomorrow, for the cast, kind of like a kick off to the new season, do you want to come with me?” Jared asked.

I was never a big fan of parties.

Jared always tried to get me to go to high school parties but it was never my thing.

“I guess, but just for you.” I said booping his nose.

I finished my sandwich, making sure to clean up after myself.

“I’m uh going to head to bed early, I’m exhausted from the flight.” I said giving Jared a hug.

I jogged up the steps towards my room. I felt the heat radiating from the bathroom as I passed it.

I could see the door was slightly cracked.

I peaked in seeing Jensen in only a towel.

He was wiping the condensation off the mirror.

I couldn’t stop my eyes from traveling over his toned chest and back.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I stared.

I would give anything to be able to run my hands down his body.

I bit my lip, forcing my body to move away from the door before I was caught staring.

I crashed on to the bed, letting my thoughts linger on the gorgeous man.

I wondered what his lips tasted like.

I wondered how it would feel to have his hands caressing my body as we kissed.

I wondered how his body would feel on top of mine.

I choked back a moan as I thought about him in such an intimate way.

A loud knock on my door tore me away from my thoughts.

I quickly sat up, I could feel just how flushed I was.

“uh come in.” I squeaked.

I was surprised when Jensen came in setting a laptop on my bed. I gave him a confused look as he typed away.

“Dawson’s Creek season six.” He smiled turning the laptop towards me.

I laughed as I brought the laptop to my lap.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Jensen said walking towards the door.

“aren’t you going to watch it with me?” I asked slightly disappointed.

“oh no, I never watch myself on tv, but make sure you pay attention cause I’m going to quiz you tomorrow.” He said.

I rolled my eyes at his antics.

“Goodnight Jensen.”

“Goodnight baby moose.”

I hit play, even though I had already seen every episode he was in.

I watched anyways.

I watched until I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

I watched until I fell into a deep slumber, plagued by dreams of a man I know I would never have.

I woke up to a light pounding on my door. It was bright out, but still appeared to be early morning.

Jared strode in wearing running gear.

It was nice to see he still took his morning runs.

It was something that always made him feel at peace, helped with his anxiety.

“ugh what time is it?” I groaned throwing a pillow over my head to block out the sun.

“five am, come on a run with me.” Jared beamed.

“Jared normal people don’t go for runs at five in the morning.”

“good thing you’re far from normal.” Jared joked pulling the pillow away from my face.

“I don’t want to go for a run, I want to sleep.” I pouted.

“pretty please, for me?”

I glanced up at Jared to see him giving me the puppy dog eyes.

Damn.

He knows I can’t say no to his puppy dog eyes.

“you better get me an extra large cup of coffee after this.” I groaned throwing my legs over the side of the bed.

I threw on some workout clothes, making my way downstairs. I was surprised to see Jensen standing in the kitchen in workout gear.

Fuck.

I was uncoordinated, and the last thing I wanted to do was run in front of Jensen.

“you managed to get baby moose to come, impressive.” Jensen smirked.

I rolled my eyes grabbing a bottle of water.

“I uh hope you didn’t stay awake too long watching your new favorite show.” Jensen said laughing.

“It was alright, Pacey is definitely my favorite character.” I shot back walking past him towards the door where Jared was waiting.

“and what about CJ?”

“I mean he was alright in the beginning I guess, turned in to kind of a dick.”

“oh yeah how so?”

“I mean he did sleep with Audrey even though he knew Jen was in to him, kind of a dick move.” I shrugged.

Jensen huffed rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t write the script.” Jensen shrugged.

“It might’ve been better if you did.” I said, giving him one last glance before starting to jog.

I jogged at a steady pace, close behind Jared and Jensen.

I was smaller then both of them, so I took smaller strides.

I have to admit I did feel at peace.

I enjoyed the gentle morning canadian breeze nipping at my cheeks.

I was taking in all the beautiful sights around me.

I liked it here.

It seemed like we weren’t jogging for long before we were stopping at a little coffee shop.

“I believe I owe you an extra large cup of coffee.” Jared said glancing at me.

“I believe you are correct.”

“I’ll be right back, you want anything J?” Jared asked turning towards Jensen.

��nah man I’m alright.”

Jared nodded at us before disappearing inside the coffee shop.

It was silent as I stared at the quiet street, the town not quite awake yet.

“did you really hate CJ?” Jensen spoke making me glance at him.

“I think hate is a strong word, more thoroughly disliked him.” I laughed.

Jensen furrowed his eyebrows as I chuckled.

Was this bothering him?

“I like the guy who plays him better.” I spoke, not thinking about how it sounded.

I felt my cheeks heat up as I realized what I just said.

“oh well good.” Jensen responded, rubbing his neck nervously.

I was about to respond when Jensen grabbed my arm pulling me to his chest.

“Careful!” he shrieked as the coffee shop door flung open, almost smacking me in the face.

I swallowed nervously as he stared down at me, our bodies pressed together.

It felt even better than I had imagined.

“thanks for that.” I whispered tearing my eyes away from his.

I felt as if my heart would jump out of my chest at any moment from how fast it was beating.

I could feel his eyes lingering on me.

Jensen carefully tucked a piece of hair behind my ear that had fallen from my ponytail.

I shivered at his touch, feeling as if my body was suddenly engulfed in flames.

It felt good to be touched by him.

It felt heavenly.

I quickly jumped away from him, hearing Jared’s voice reappearing.

“what’s going on?” Jared asked looking between me and Jensen.

“uh baby moose is as clumsy as you say.” Jensen smirked, causing Jared to laugh.

I rolled my eyes taking my coffee from Jared.

I walked back to the condo as Jensen and Jared jogged ahead.

I was taking time to sip my coffee.

I was taking time to control my racing heart.

what in the world happened back there?

I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

Ouch.

Okay that hurt.

and I’m not dreaming.

I bit my lip trying to fight the smile that made it’s way to my face.

I have no idea what that was.

but I liked it.

I liked it a lot.

I made it back to the condo, being informed that the boys had to go to the studio to shoot more promos for the new season, and that they’d be back to get me for the party tonight. I gave them a wave, crashing on to the couch from exhaustion.

I remember now why I don’t run at five in the morning.

I grabbed a blanket off the couch, curling up to catch a few more hours of sleep.

I woke up around noon, sleeping later than I would’ve liked.

I got up making myself some breakfast.

I passed the time watching more Dawson’s Creek.

It wasn’t like I had anything else to do.

It was starting to get later, I needed to get ready for this party.

I grabbed a simple mini dress throwing it on.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror.

I didn’t completely hate what I saw.

I didn’t love it either.

I wasn’t anything exceptional.

It was no wonder I was so invisible.

I heard the boys come back home, stomping up the stairs like a herd of elephants.

I put a light coat of makeup on, before brushing through my hair.

I heard my door opening, making me glance over.

Jared stood there in a button up and some jeans.

“you look beautiful.” Jared smiled.

“thanks moose, you look, well very moose like.” I laughed as Jared gave me an annoyed look.

“come on brat, it’s time to go.” Jared said rolling his eyes.

I grabbed my purse, following him down the stairs. Jensen stood there waiting, wearing an outfit similar to Jared’s.

He looked handsome.

He looked flawless.

I could feel his eyes linger on me as I descended the staircase.

“ready to go?” Jensen asked looking at me and Jared.

I nodded my head nervously.

I didn’t like parties.

I would suffer through this one for Jared.

and maybe a little bit to be with Jensen.

I played with the hem of my dress as Jensen drove. It was a silent car ride, nobody bothering to make conversation.

I sighed as Jensen pulled up to the studio.

I hesitantly got out, already overwhelmed with the number of cars in the parking lot.

I could feel the nerves taking over my body making it shake slightly.

I felt a hand on my shoulder making me relax a little.

“it’s going to be okay, just stick with me.” Jared said offering a smile.

I gave him a forced one, following him and Jensen inside.

Jensen disappeared immediately when we got in, going to hug various cast and crew members.

I have to admit I got a little jealous watching him hug multiple women.

It wasn’t like I had a right to be.

Jensen looked right through me.

I just had to accept that.

“I want you to meet Jim.” Jared said grabbing my hand and pulling me to an older gentleman.

I made sure to act super polite as I met various cast and crew members that I hadn’t met the first season.

I felt like Jared’s shadow as he made his way around the room. I didn’t know anyone really except for Jensen and Jeffery Dean Morgan.

I had already talked to Jeff for a little so now I had nothing else to do except following Jared around like a lost puppy dog.

It was exhausting listening to conversations I didn’t really care about.

I needed some air.

I quietly slipped out the door, not that anyone would notice I was gone.

Jared was too busy basking in the limelight.

I was happy for him, don’t get me wrong, it’s just hard to be in his shadow sometimes.

I sighed looking around the studio parking lot. A bunch of trailers sat on the lot, with names of cast members etched on the doors. I found the one that said Jared Padalecki, and took a seat on the steps.

It was a beautiful night out.

It was quiet.

I took a deep breath blowing it out of my nose in a huff.

“you know the parties inside right?”

I jumped as Jensen’s voice took me by surprise.

“geez Jensen I never noticed how observant you were.” I joked rolling my eyes at him.

“not a fan of parties huh?”

“uh not really, they were always sort of Jared’s thing.” I answered with a shrug.

“yeah they’re not so much my thing either, too many people.” Jensen said.

I nodded my head, an awkward silence falling between us.

“uh do you want to see my trailer?” Jensen asked.

I felt the all too familiar heat creep up my spine.

“uh okay.” I whispered, flushed.

Jensen extended his hand pulling me to my feet.

It turns out his trailer was right beside Jared’s. He opened the door allowing me to step in.

It had his wardrobe for Dean in it, a small couch, a mini fridge, and a bathroom. I let my fingers graze over his costumes, observing a few articles closely.

“It’s nice.” I smiled plopping on the couch.

It was rather comfy for a small sofa.

“perks of being like a major celebrity.” Jensen smirked, quoting me from yesterday.

Jensen sat down beside me, our bodies just inches from each other due to the small size of the sofa.

“I’m uh glad you’re here baby moose, Jared’s a lot happier when you are.” Jensen said giving me a smile.

“I’m glad I’m here too.”

It was quiet, another awkward silence falling between us.

“we should probably head back inside, people are going to wonder where we are.” Jensen said standing up.

I stood up too.

“wondering where you are maybe, in case you haven’t noticed I’m pretty good at being invisible.” I said with a slight frown.

“well I can see you.”

Author Note:

I hope you enjoyed part one of this mini series! Please give a heart, reblog, comment or follow if you want more! I appreciate it!

Part (II)

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen and jared #jared padalecki #jared x sister reader #jared and jensen #jensen ackles preference #jensen ackles smut #supernatural #spn fanfic #spn cast

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sciderman · 8 months

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Omfg he IS Daffy. Like. If we want to get into specifics…Wade’s entire life is that episode where Daffy keeps trying to play out the scene and the “animator” keeps drawing new ways to fuck up the scene. And after you’re certain Daffy has lost the tiny semblance of the sanity he had left, you pan out and it’s just Bugs in the animation studio closing the book on Daffy.

Oh man that tracks on so many levels. Especially the power exchange when Peter takes on the Daffy role and Wade gets to be Bugs. Even down to how Bugs dresses in drag, typically leaving Daffy to fend for himself in terms of the antagonist. When Wade dresses in drag or even simply wears a dress, even when Peter enjoys it he’s usually left to fend for himself against his biggest foe: his gender and sexuality.

Now I have to know…do you think Peter can get to a point where he’s taking up the Bugs role from time to time, or is he an eternal Daffy?

P.S.: Daffy is my FAVORITE.

i LOVE daffy, he's one of my favourite characters in fiction ever. and i've always said it, wade is very daffy duck coded.

wise guy ✅ funny way of talkin' ✅ ability to break the fourth wall ✅ tortured by the narrator ✅ mad about it ✅

even the kind of performative humour that's signature to looney tunes is hardwired into wade. the way he talks in early comics - even his debut series every issue is themed to ducks. i think it's all very intentional he's always meant to have been a looney tunes-esque figure, and that's the way he chooses to perform.

i was a looney tunes girlie growing up (my favourite) and watched looney tunes cartoons religiously and so SO much of my humour came from those cartoons and feeds into how i write wade (daffy and bugs are both like, the biggest inspirations for the way i write wade, no doubt. no doubt. i don't even know if i can point to any other characters as inspiration, save for wade himself.)

i'll squeeze in a clip from duck amuck (my favourite piece of media like, ever created ever.) please seek out the whole cartoon if you haven't - i really think it's one of the greatest cartoons ever made.

youtube

bugs and daffy's dynamic (especially in later content of them, where they're cosier and more self-aware) is a huge inspiration too - an odd couple that kind of hates each other because they're always, always diametrically opposed but kind of know each other so well and know each other's BIT so well that when they have each other's interests at heart and work together they are The Ultimate Duo with like, the most fire chemistry you've ever seen. the most unstoppable banter you've ever seen. when they're in a room together, absolutely no one else can get a word in. obsessed with that dynamic.

wade and peter are very bugs and daffy coded but it's dealers choice who gets to be bugs and who gets to be daffy. they're switches. i think it's all about who has the upper hand in the scenario - bugs usually has a confidence in a situation that comes from him knowing something daffy doesn't - (ergo, wade is usually the bugs. because he usually knows something peter doesn't.)

but... buuuuut, it's not always the case - and wade doesn't always have the upper hand when it comes to his dynamic with peter - particularly when he's feeling emotionally vulnerable. peter can handle those situations better than wade does. those moments, regrettably - happen more often in the fics than on the blog, because it usually happens when their clothes are off. (oops.)

wade's daffy moments happen when he's Not the smartest guy in the room, or things don't work out in his favour or he's not in control of the situation and he's being dramatic about it.

in those moments, peter gets to be the bugs. the level-headed guy who's in charge of the situation. i hope he gets more moments like that. because it's kind of insane that wade's usually the sane one here. and he needs to be dethroned.

peter needs more bugs bunny moments - and though i'm not sure when - olive and anita's warring divas dynamic fits the bugs and daffy model with so much more ferocity. they will be dropping pianos on each other. and you can guess who gets to be the bugs.

#sci speaks #ask-spiderpool #peter season. WADE season. peter season. WADE season! wade season. PETER SEASON FIRE!!

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that--funny--feeling · 2 months

Text

Why Existence is the perfect conclusion to TXF: my take on S8

William's storyline is the last X-File of the season (of the entire serie for some) and I think that it contains the essence of the show and the characters and that's why S8 should have been the last one in my opinion.

This analysis will aim to examine both positive and negative factors of S8. I'll try to do my best, but this is also a very personal meta. I ask you to hang on with me, if you can.

S8 overall impressions

I concluded S8 one week ago now and I had time to reflect with a cool head. I still think this is the worst season of the show (if we don't include 9 to 11 and I'm not going to talk about them here and I'd like to keep ignoring them :D ). Mulder's absence heavy influences the season obviously, the atmosphere is tragic and dramatic. It's a bit of a shock for the fans, since the light and fun air we had in season 6 and especially 7. Even though I liked Doggett and Reyes and I'm glad they joined the team, the mytharc episodes were way more then usual and as usual not handled well (starting with Within/Without), also some episodes were really just bad (Badlaa) and other make suffer Scully again and again uselessly (Roadrunners). How many times can Scully be afraid to have a miscarriage? She's pregnant and alone ffs, she had enough. All the fixation on her baby and people who wanted to hurt him or both of them really made me sick at some point.

Mulder's return makes things better, if we ignore his OOC behaviour in Three Words. I get his PTSD and feeling out of place in a world that went on without him. And I expected him to be territorial about the X-Files with Doggett, but he talks to Scully like he resents she's moving out of work because of her pregnancy. He'd be the first one to explode with joy for her (for them both), finding out she's going to have a baby. I'm glad he behaves normally from Empedocles on. Mulder's resurrection in This is not happening/Deadalive is a bit all over the place (they think he's dead but in the end he's not but meanwhile they buried him for three months? And then they need a vaccine for him to not turn into an aline but in the end they don't? O-ok. What's going to think Maggie Scully about all of this? Poor soul) but ok, let's go on.

Scully's pregnancy

Through all the season, we don't exactly know what to think about Scully's pregnancy. She wasn't supposed to have children after her abduction. Then Mulder tells her he found the vial with some of her ova. She takes them to Dr. Parenti and he says she has a chance. We also find out Dr. Parenti seems to be involved in aliens' experiments. In the end IVF doesn't work. So it seems whatever he tried to do with her, he failed, but the question remains: how is possibile for Scully to be pregnant?

Even Mulder doesn't know what to think. And I don't think his confusion is about the who's the daddy stupid topic, but about how it was possibile for her to carry a child in the first place. He's worried someone is using her again and she will suffer again. I don't think he has doubts that, experiments aside, he's the only one that can be the father of that baby. And even though he wasn't the biological one, he'd accept the role as the father all the same.

Aside from that, I think this baby is the first chance in Mulder and Scully's life to find their own normalcy, to start a life aside from work, to step aside from their save-the-world-responsabilities. They suffered enough for a lifetime afterall.

Getting out of the damn car

Mulder isn't in the FBI anymore. Scully is in maternity leave but she's not sure she'll be back. The X-Files were hard to leave behind for both of them, but they realized they would reach an end of the road sooner or later. And the end is now. We see a switch from Mulder's moment of closure about Samantha. He feels free and lighter, the atmosphere in S7 is fun and playful. As I tried to show in my fanvid, I think not only Scully, but Mulder too seeks a simpler life (maybe normalcy wasn't the right term. Neither Mulder nor Scully were ever proper afterall). At the end of S7 they both are getting there:

But even before Mulder's abduction, there's always the dilemma: Mulder's personal quest may be over, but what about looking for the Truth? Unmask the corrupt government and its secrets? This quest is maybe endless and both Mulder and Scully know about it.

Will the duty always be before the personal happiness?

Doggett & Reyes

Here they come, a skeptic and a believer again, to achieve the needed balance. I liked how the writers didn't try to replace Mulder with a similar character. Doggett is way different: he's an old school policeman, he seems reliable and tough. The sheriffs respect him and don't go as far away as possible from him like it happens with some other spooky and weird guy. He has male friends and does manly things. But he's also lonely and he's lost somebody he deeply cared for because of something he can't explain. So he's drawn to the X-Files in more ways than one.

Reyes always smiles and that made me fall for her. She's a breath of fresh air in a dark and melancholic season. She doesn't know well Scully, but she's ready to help, because she trusts Doggett and that's enough for her. She respects Mulder even before knowing him, because Scully does and that's enough for her. She's ready to do everything for a cause that she cares for and her amazement and sense of justice really reminded me of the feeling of the first season.

I adore how Scully and Doggett's trust is built case after case, I love how Scully sees something of herself in him (his need to find practical proofs and his stubborness on not believing the fantastic) and viceversa (Doggett is protective of her and her child because he doesn't want her to go through what happened to him). I love how Scully likes Reyes from day one, because she's fun and weird and she reminds her of her dead sister (this really warms my heart).

I love how Mulder obviously is territorial about his department with Doggett but then starts to respect and trust him enough with the X-Files. I love how Mulder sees how spontaneous and stubborn Reyes is and says she'd be useful in the X-Files.

The way both Mulder and Scully pass the baton to them really does things to me. Because maybe the quest to the truth really is infinite, but they understand they can find people honest and passionate about that just like them. And after all these years, they can rest, knowing that someone is still out there fighting.

William

As I anticipated, many things are said about this baby. He may be an hybrid by the aliens, he may be a supersoldier by the army, he may even be a real miracle by God. But I like to think it's none of these things.

William is really the union of Mulder and Scully. When the IVF fails, Mudler says:

Mulder, the furthest man from religion, says it to Scully, because that's what he does best: he believes. He never gives up no matter what (he neither did when Scully had cancer). He knows she needs to hear it and he needs it too. He's ready to believe in a miracle for her.

I don't think William is a miracle in the christian sense. I think he's a miracle, because it's the most improbable but plausible thing that could happen in a sea of paranormal possibilities. What if there was a 1% chance for Scully to become pregnant in a conventional way and they fell in that 1%? He's the essence of both their genetics and their points of view. What if he is just a normal boy?

Because it's theirs, their baby, their miracle. And if I have to choose what to believe, I want to believe that.

The end.

My TXF posts and videos.

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shuutingstar · 1 month

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I’ve been watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine recently and I had the idea of a detective/cop au with the sbg cast because it’d be funny.

Under the cut cuz I made it too long.

Basically, what I’m working with here is that Ashlyn’s either the sergeant or captain of the squad. I haven’t completely decided yet but I’m fine with either. Anyhow, Aiden’s kinda like Jake in B99 where he’s really smart and can solve a case no problem but has a tendency to joke around and not follow the rules entirely. He’s also really stubborn. I was thinking Tyler and Aiden could have the rivalry/bet that Amy and Jake had going on in s1 ‘cause it’d be funny to see them try and beat the other in most cases solved.

For Logan I was thinking he’d be the best on-field (cuz yk he’s good with a gun) and best shooter the precinct has. Taylor would be good at getting info from perps and she’d be an amazing “good cop” while Ashlyn would play “bad cop” or they could switch. I don’t think it matters. Ben would be real intimidating but he’s just a big softie. He’s like the nicest cop at the precinct and enjoys being a secondary rather than a primary (like he doesn’t want to take the lead role on cases a lotta the time cuz yk he can’t talk) but he’s still a very valuable person to the squad.

For whatever plot this au has I think it’d be cool to have it interlink with the phantoms and the phantom dimension in some way. Like maybe there are a series of murders where the killer maims/disfigures the victims’ bodies and the squad have to solve it, but it’s a difficult case because there are people trying to cover up the murders — like maybe the Cranes (or whatever their organisation is called) or something. Also, they could give the serial killer a name like “the phantom or smth” or you can still add the phantom dimension into the au if you want to but at its core this au is just about shits and giggles.

Like I want to see Aiden arrive at work and drink his third tea of the day — cuz he’s a tea guy — and I wanna see Ben sit at his desk and prolong his paper work because listening to music is so much better. I want to see Logan have tons of flowers at his desk because his grandparents were so happy he’d finally gotten the job he had worked for; Taylor fixing the printers everyday because Logan got kind of mad when the printer stops working. (He took a hammer and smashed it.) I wanna see Tyler come to work with more than one lunch bag because he decided to make the others lunch. I WANT TO SEE FLUFF. If you get what I mean.

I’d also like to clarify that im not trying to undermine anyone’s intelligence/skills in any way. They’re all skilled and perceptive and great detectives they just show it differently. Like Ben get intel by silently reading you whereas Tyler tries a more aggressive approach which contrasts with Taylor’s calculated questions and answers and Ashlyn’s perceptiveness to body language. Logan’s all about finding the facts first and building off of there, so he’s kind of in between everything when solving a case but the clue board is his go-to and Aiden just kinda fuck’s around and finds out.

#I legit thought of this at school #at like 7:30 in the morning #shuu rambles #sbg #school bus graveyard #sbg (webtoon)#aiden clark #ben clark #ashlyn banner #tyler hernandez #taylor hernandez #logan sbg #I don’t remember my man’s last name #sorry??#someone write a fic about this pls

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mana-jjk · 3 months

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y’all walk with me in the five minutes i have left of free time ;;

tw: suicide attempt, parental abuse

toge who has been an idol since he was a child x new and upcoming idol yuuta

• toge who grew up in a famous family who immediately pushed him to the limelight since the moment he was born

• he was one of the youngest child idols at the time, he’s always had a voice that captured attention and was exploited for it.

• he spent his entire childhood isolated from others, homeschooled, no friends, no choice in what he got to do or who he got to talk to, and under the scrutiny of the public’s eye

• his parents even forced him to take specific medications to keep his voice from changing, they withheld affection but paraded him around like a prize dog.

• everything changed after his suicide attempt.

• he woke up in a hospital for the first time, voice gone from his attempt, and lifeless with disappointment.

• his parents were furious at the loss of his voice and the attention he drew to them, to the point where they couldn’t even disown him without public scrutiny.

• years go by and toge remains in the spotlight for his looks and dancing ability. he’s often involved in movies/series that involve mute characters, but he’s far from the popularity he used to have.

• it’s at one of the fan meet and greets before his attempt that yuuta meets toge for the first time.

• yuuta had grown up completely normal, and had watched a few shows that featured toge. he’d always been awed by him, there was such an untouchable aura about him that always captured everyone’s attention.

• when yuuta hears that there’s a meet and greet, he doesn’t even hesitate. yet when he’s finally there, naturally he freezes up.

• the security is rushing him, his hands are sweaty, and there’s a growing line behind him. part of yuuta is ready to run far away, yet it’s toge who waves the security away. who smiles at him kindly, takes his hand gently, and talks to him patiently.

• yuuta blurts out that someday he wants to shine as bright as him, and that’s the only moment toge’s eyes dim. but the shorter boy smiles regardless, and on his card, he writes, “i hope you shine brighter than the stars in the sky. i’ll be waiting for your debut! - your first fan, toge.”

• a few years later, the news breaks that one of the biggest child stars has just attempted to take their life.

• for the first time, toge seemed human to him. he’d always had impressive acting ability, and his glow on stage when he danced never wavered, but his eyes were what gave him away. even looking back to their first meeting, they seemed so sad that he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

• so for years, yuuta works hard with his childhood friend as his manager to rise in the ranks. he gets his big break when the biggest recording studio in the country discovers him and sends him an offer to sponsor him with a new, male idol group.

• he doesn’t even hesitate to say yes and soon he’s meeting his fellow members, megumi and yuuji.

• gojo, the owner of the studio, lets him in on a little secret, he’s trying to recruit toge too.

• cue yuuta being interviewed and always hinting at his celebrity crush, unknowing that toge has been watching the group since it was announced.

• toge at this time has mainly switched to acting roles, where he meets maki on-set of a movie. and panda who works as a camera technician. they’re his best friends, and he’s finally out of his parents house, but still feels compelled to cater to the public. yet not enough to join a full-blown idol group.

• the black-haired boy who sings his heart out on stage seems familiar, but he just can’t put his finger on it.

are you still walking with me because i’m kind of sprinting now <3 i just think toge deserves to be dazzled by idol yuuta who still fumbles his way talking to him shyly up close, i love that for him

please picture yuuta pushing his hair back and winking on stage to toge in the crowd, turning around to go to his dressing room and immediately collapsing into a blushing, pathetic pile of mush.

toge, hiding in the crowd in disguise, red-faced and wondering when his shy fan turned into a heartthrob who could flirt

i always say this but feel free to ask me any questions about any au’s or works i have, i will absolutely avoid my homework to answer you <3

#inumaki toge #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yuuta okkotsu #inuokko #ottoge #jjk panda #maki zenin #megumi fushiguro #itadori yuuji #idol au

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ducktracy · 4 months

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Do you know why Bugs and Daffy didn't interact more pre-Rabbit Fire? I know that they appeared on-screen together in Porky Pig's Feat, but aside from that the two were very separate.

short answer: i simply don’t think they were two characters that were intended to be together at that point in time. similarities in personality may have prompted confusion from audiences—Bugs likewise was barred from appearing in any short in the Looney Tunes series (Feat being the exception)

longer answer that is essentially expressing the same sentiment: i really don’t have a concrete answer to this, and all of my above answers are really speculation. but, i do largely think they just weren’t two characters that the directors thought needed to be together (similar to how, say, there’s never been a short with Yosemite Sam or Sylvester together or Elmer and Marvin).

similarities in personality i think was a concern… as much as i want to argue “they’re entirely different! Bugs is more smug in nature as a default, whereas Daffy, hard as it may seem to believe, is a bit more earnest and oblivious by default—Daffy’s manner of heckling often feels out of necessity, not even for self defense but for a manic catharsis whereas you may even be lucky to be heckled by Bugs if he decides you’re worth wasting time on, even in the shorts where he’s the provocateur”, audiences back then were not thinking of that. i can see there being concern for the personalities being too similar and perhaps even getting annoying/monotonous

Bugs was a common punchline in the shorts. he isn’t even so much a person in Porky Pig’s Feat as he is a thing and an idea, a name that is propped up in reverence (and Feat is not the first/last to do so ejther! Meatless Flyday boasts the fantastic quote “look at him trying to heckle me—a poor man’s Bugs Bunny!).. i completely confess i forgot where i was going with this! but i guess it relates back to why Daffy views him with such reverence in Feat, obviously their rivalry wasn’t established yet but perhaps having him fawn over him as he does was a way to preemptively wedge their personalities apart if that makes sense. not so much two hecklers talking as it is one heckler and one prophet

likewise, Bugs was strictly confined to the more expensive, more prestigious Merrie Melodies series. i admit i don’t know when the first Looney Tunes short is that he appears in—the LT MM distinction becomes completely irrelevant after 1943 when the LTs fully switched to color, but Porky and Daffy were seen as the faces of the LT series (literally—that title card with them together was inserted in front of LT shorts that didn’t have them in it at all) and Bugs MM in the occasions that he did show up, so i wonder if there was concern as to maintaining that sort of “boundary”.

this upcoming factoid that i genuinely have trouble wrapping my head around. especially as a historian, it’s often a necessity to be able to get into the minds of the audiences, creatives and perhaps even general public of the time periods you’re covering for a greater understanding of why things were the way they are. but, with that said, i genuinely struggle to conceive that Daffy evidently wasn’t incredibly popular with audiences. not even a case of dislike, but, somehow, just lack of awareness. historian Dave Gerstein explained it months back so i redirect you to him—this could have been a possibility too, in that maybe Daffy would reduce some of that aforementioned prestige so inherent in Bugs’ name and role

RAMBLING ASIDE, i am happy to now drop some “exceptions” to this. very minor ones, but here are a handful of comics, publicity sheets and studio newsletters pre Rabbit Fire that have them together (if only tangentially, in that the “i kill ‘em, doc!” trade sheet steals its Daffy and Porky from the lobby cards of Daffy Duck and the Dinosaur and Porky’s Preview respectively):

#anonymous #asks

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i-heart-hxh · 6 months

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How does Gon feel exactly about Ging?

Hi anon, this is an interesting question to explore, because (at least in my opinion) the answer isn't straightforward. The complexity of how Gon thinks about Ging is one of the beautiful things about HxH, and it says a lot about Gon as a character. It's a hard thing to summarize, but I'll do my best!

Of course, at the beginning we find out Gon is seeking Ging in order to find out what makes being a Hunter so great that someone would leave their own child behind, so even from this point it's not entirely about Ging himself or trying to "regain" him as a family member. It's more about Gon's own worth and how that was damaged by Ging choosing not to stay with Gon, and figuring out what job could be so fulfilling that someone would choose that over raising him. I think the urge to find Ging comes partly from Gon wanting to better understand the context of his existence, but the way he considers this is unusual--it doesn't seem to be so much about the circumstances of his birth or even to confront Ging about why he was left behind, but more along the lines of, "I want to meet the person I came from so I can better understand why my life is the way it is, and learn what it means to be a Hunter like him."

Clearly, Ging leaving him behind has affected Gon deeply--we see this with his self-esteem issues and extreme desire to prove himself, and he tries hard to be as self-sufficient as possible, doing whatever he can to prove that he's worthwhile. I'm sure he's tried his best not to be a burden on Aunt Mito, which might be part of where his self-sufficiency comes from. But at the same time, it's clear Gon has a degree of admiration for Ging, and with how the people he meets on his journey talk about Ging, it makes sense that Gon gains this deep respect for him as a Hunter and wants to know more about who he is and what he's done in his life.

An attribute of Gon's character that I think is interesting and unique to him is that he accepts people as they are, generally without expecting them to change or being particularly concerned about their morality. He has this immense respect for peoples' agency and free will, and he's super curious about people regardless of what kinds of people they are. Hence why he's immediately able to accept Killua without issues, even with Killua's background. This applies to Ging, too--rather than resenting or hating Ging for leaving him behind, he assumes Ging must have a good reason and he's more interested in understanding that good reason than trying to force Ging to take a role in his life that he clearly doesn't want. He must have grappled with this at some point I think, but by the time we see him in the series, he doesn't seem to have framed the issue in ways you would normally expect from a child who was left behind, blaming or resenting the parent.

It's telling that Gon switches over to using "Ging" instead of referring to him as his dad during the Whale Island visit. This makes it even more clear that what Gon's seeking is not really "his dad," but rather finding Ging is a more abstract goal, and he sees Ging less as his relative, but more as his own individual. Gon even says something along those lines after he meets Ging.

And indeed, when he does find Ging he enjoys talking to him, trading stories and getting advice, but Gon doesn't ask to stay with him or really impose upon him much at all beyond getting to know him better and learning what kind of person he is. It's interesting to me that Gon says (twice, even) if he could have felt Ging's aura he might have stayed with him, but I wonder if that's really the case. Would Gon have really insisted on that, and would Ging have accepted it? There's no way to know, but I wonder. It's hard for me to picture, personally.

But Ging is who Gon calls about losing his nen, so they must have traded contact info and agreed that they could stay in touch at the very least. So, Gon has some desire for a continuing relationship, even if it's not a very close one.

I think Gon is aware that his view on Ging is unusual--there's this scene:

Of course Gon says it's a joke, but I think this is more a comment on how he doesn't really see Ging as a father or feel a strong desire to stay with him, and it's also maybe a bit of a jab at himself for leaving Aunt Mito behind to find Ging in the first place.

I love how unconventional Gon's views on Ging are--it's something that makes the series unique, and gives Gon's search a different nature and meaning than if he were a kid simply looking for his parent because he misses him and wants his dad in his life. And I love that, in the act of finding Ging, he ends up with the message of the series, both from Ging's mouth and in the abstract--that ultimately the journey and the people he spent time with on his journey have more meaning to him than the person he spent all this time seeking.

Thanks for asking!

#hxh #hunter x hunter #gon #ging #asks #anonymous #my posts #long post

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11queensupreme11 · 5 months

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unpopular opinion, rick should have not created sm characters. bc he had to create another camp with a separate cast, he shouldn't have created separate greek campers. instead of piper and leo, the quest should have had annabeth and another already existing character of your choosing. maybe even grover lol. i felt that the books couldn't keep up with everyone and it pushed everyone except the 7 to the back. the multiple perspectives was also done so badly imo. like with grover, i felt like he was just gone the entire war. same with tyson, nico and thalia (at parts), and i wanted to see more of the twins :(. also if octavion was going to take over, Ryena should have been part of the seven too. and calypso should have had a bigger role in which it was percy who realized that she was left at the island and it would have been her anger directed at him not leo's. plus leo and calypso were so bad together. i hated how he had to try to pair everyone up with someone like life stops if you aren't dating someone during wartime. it would have been cooler to see leo accept himself with being the 7th wheel and he would grow from that in his own way, not be given a girlfriend bc he rescued her bc their was like no buildup before they were together. and i don;t even think she liked him, she just wanted to escape from a bad situation and leo just can't control himself against pretty girls ugh. like leo and khlonie would have been much more entertaining

anon trust me i don't think that's an unpopular opinion anymore, especially since the ppl who first read the series as kids have grown up and reread it again and went "oh... yeah this was kind of a mess 🙃"

maybe instead of cutting out characters, he keeps them all the same and just... stuck to switching between percy and jason's 1st person POVS??? maybe that would've been easier to manage? 🤔

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| arsenic blues

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that-ari-blogger · 3 months

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Here We Go! (Agony Of A Witch)

While it isn't wrong to say that Agony Of A Witch is the episode in which The Owl House picks up speed, it is possibly the understatement of the century. This episode switches vehicles from a golf cart to a drag racer and puts a rock on the accelerator.

But, pacing isn't everything. The true test of a story is how well it handles the turns, how efficient it is with its maneuvers, and how much this metaphor falls apart.

I actually think this episode is phenomenal and is a demonstration of the character writing muscles that were previously glimpsed in Understanding Willow being put to full use.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD: (The Owl House, One Piece - Whiskey Peak, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe)

My thesis for this post is that it explores motivation to create a compelling conflict that draws on entirely well-meaning intentions that contradict each other. As in, there is an antagonist in this episode, that being Lilith, but she isn't entirely villainous, I don't think.

Let me define some terms. A villain is defined by the Cambridge Dictionary as the following:

"A character in a book, play, film, etc. who harms other people."

This definition sucks. That's right, this little Tumblr blog about The Owl House is going toe to toe with Cambridge. Fight me, nerds (please don't actually fight me).

In my opinion, this definition manages to be both reductive and unhelpful. While "harm" is a fairly open term, that is a problem, because it encompasses characters who don't constitute as villains. For example, Deadpool is a villain by this structure, but so is James Bond, and Obi Wan Kenobi has removed enough people's arms that it has become a meme.

Hooty causes harm in this story. Is he a villain? Don't answer that.

On the other hand, what about villains who don't succeed in causing harm. Mr 5 is unquestionably villainous in One Piece, but he gets his arse handed to him in Whiskey Peak, and doesn't really succeed at anything other than looking like a chump.

So, there is some intentionality there. Allow me to propose my own definition of the term, that I will be working from:

"A villain is a character who willingly does bad things, as described in the story, even when given an option to do otherwise."

In this case, "bad" is defined as whatever the story's themes advocate against. In the Owl House, this is willful ignorance, bigotry, and denial of another's freedom. It is the latter of these that characterises Lillith as villainous and has characterised her as villainous for the series up to this point.

But this is where the intentionality comes into play, because for the majority of season one, Lilith has been the main villain, trying repeatedly to restrict Eda into joining a coven, and she still fills that role here, but this episode makes that more complicated.

I cannot gush enough over how incredible this opening scene is, it feels like what would happen if Wes Anderson did more than just look pretty (apologies to any Wes Anderson fans out there, I just don't like his movies).

The imagery here is clear, a massive castle made by an architect who clearly had a thing for the Eye Of Sauron. There is a cage being walked across the bridge, and shadows everywhere. This is where the villains hang out.

Good sound design often goes unnoticed, except for when it is meant to be overwhelming, but I genuinely think that this scene is carried by its subtlety in that regard. There is nothing here, just the wind, and the sound of marching. In a story about freedom and expression, this is a place where there is absolutely zero of that.

This is Belos' first appearance, and he is steeped in religious imagery. He is in a place of worship, plated with gold, on a massive stained glass window.

You can tell a lot about a person by how they talk about themselves, even more than how they physically appear. For example, someone who appears unkempt might be less tidy and refined than someone in a suit, or they might be the most eloquent person you could ever meet. In short, actions speak louder than appearances.

So, lets look at how Belos has chosen to present himself. First up, he is huge, and towers over those looking at the window. But he also towers over the others in the frame. Those others happen to be kneeling to him in subservience, worshiping him. Belos presents himself as powerful and worthy of praise.

He is also leaning into the idea of freedom expression in his villainy here. Because there is colour in this room, but only on his window. Only when looking upon him, can you be free.

The room, however, is gold, the same colour as his mask and cloak, so he definitely has a hand in the limiting of power

Then there is the fact that this is a window. To see the outside world, Lilith needs to look through Belos. Even when she isn't trying to see him, he dictates what she sees anyway. Belos revels in control.

I also want to talk about the religious imagery here, because it plays into his personality. It shows a character who thinks of himself as deific, who has placed himself in the centre of the room. When people pray, they pray to him. This is a narcissist.

Back to Lilith, the start of this episode goes out of its way to hammer home Lilith's goals, and hints at why they might be.

"I haven't forgotten what you've promised me. I will bring you my sister, Emperor Belos."

I think that Lilith manages to walk the line between villain and antagonist in this episode, fully exiting the former in the finale of the season. She doesn't appear to be doing things of her own volition, but that isn't clear enough yet to say.

I also want to stress this, forcing someone to do something doesn't have to be physically bending their arm behind their back and making them do it. In this case, Lilith has been handed two choices, one of which is objectively worse, so the choice is self-evident.

Luz and Eda on the other hand, get their motivations laid out as the episode opens after the credits. They want to protect each other.

Eda is struggling with the owl beast curse, and that has been getting worse. But to protect the naivety of her student, she has been hiding this fact from her, until it is too late. Remember how I said the story emphasises willful ignorance as bad? Well, that is explicitly how Eda's actions to obscure the truth from Luz are framed.

Eda repeatedly does this over the series. She hides elements of her life from others to make their lives better in her eyes, but it always backfires. People find out, and the result is always worse.

Then there is Luz, who is idealistic and determined. She wants to help out Eda, and when the opportunity to do so falls out of the sky in front of her in the form of a road trip.

Both of these characters want to protect each other, but that means they can be used as bait for each other. Contradicting goals from compelling intentions.

Ok, one more thing about Belos.

"The Relic Room. These items are reminders of our great Emperor's overwhelming power."

Kikimora is saying the quiet part out loud here. Look, everyone! This guy is powerful. Worship him.

Anyway, this conversation is so revelatory about Lilith. Belos issues demands, and though they aren't spoken with any real menace, the threat is obvious.

That threat is why I keep bringing Belos up when talking about Lillith, because in the same way that Amity was a key part of Understanding Willow, Belos is a key part of understanding Lilith. Because that threat colours everything she does.

The audience doesn't even get told what happens to wild witches and why Lilith fears it so much, but we get the malice in him from his tone, and from how the scene frames him.

Take, for example, the first thing we actually see Belos do:

You know that scene in Who Framed Roger Rabbit where Christopher Lloyd's character murks a shoe? (It makes more sense in context). Well, that is what is happening here. Belos kills a small creature and drinks from its life force. If you take that with the imagery surrounding him, it is valid to say that the Emperor of the boiling isles is a vampire.

If Belos is willing to do this, what might happen to Lilith?

Once again, however, that sound design carries this scene, because there is no way this moment would be nearly as intense if it wasn't for that heartbeat that Belos breathes in time with. The man controls the scene, right down to the beating of the heart in your ears. This man is terrifying.

Now, I have been saying this name for so long that it is starting to become white noise, so before that fully sets in, why is Lilith called Lilith?

Contrary to the general public opinion, I love stupidly edgy names in fiction. I think there is a place for cheese, and antagonists definitely fit that mould. Don't get me wrong, I think if a character's name is "Skullcrusher" or "Shadow" or "Tazerface" and that doesn't immediately get picked up on as needlessly over the top, that is a disruption of my immersion, but names that have that edge attached to them are writing gold to me. Lilith is one of these names.

Lilith isn't directly in the Bible, but she is referred to in folklore as Adam's first wife before Eve. According to Britannica, she is credited as a mother of demons, specifically succubae and incubi.

In terms of pop culture, however, the name Lilith has spiraled into being synonymous with "evil lady who might be demonic," the White Witch in the Chronicles of Narnia series is a descendant of her and characters in Devil May Cry, Supernatural, and Doctor Who bear her name.

So, this is a name that is traditionally associated with evil, mostly. Wherever you find stories with people who are "inherrently evil", you run into people who explore what that means, and so there are a few stories out there that either take Lilith's side, or suggest that the name should not be used to make a judgement about a person's character, a fact that I agree with.

Lilith Clawthorn doesn't really engage with this directly. Instead, she bears a name that has moral implications, and makes that person morally complex. The traditional betrayer angle is brought in through her relationship with Eda that I will get to in a moment, but the misunderstood aspect is important here as well.

I love the fact that Gus and Willow are fully prepared to help Luz out here. Someone is in danger, so they offer their advice, and this scene also jumps in on that theme of honesty. Once again, the truth outs itself, and I don't think Luz would have lived through this episode if it hadn't.

Eda, meanwhile, spends the entire episode filling that maternal role for Luz. She knits for her, she has photos, she discusses the human "growing up", so its not exactly subtle.

So, naturally, the moment Luz is in trouble, Mamma Owl Beast doesn't hesitate to try and save her.

I think that Witch's Wool cloak is a cool little metaphor for the two's relationship. This is an item that can protect one of them, and Eda is willing to give it away to Luz, even after admitting she needs it for herself. But, Eda still can't tell Luz about it, because she still refuses to actually tell Luz how much she means to her.

On the other hand, we open this episode still without knowing who cursed Eda, and the dream serves to remind the audience of that, without having to do a "previously on..." segment.

I do have a love for when The Owl House messes with aesthetics, and this weird, amorphous blob is a really neat way of obscuring the assailant's form. Character design in cartoons is often focused on silhouettes, you can tell almost any two characters in this series by their shadow, for example. So, it's a neat bit of direction to hide that.

But, Ok. I know what y'all came for. The fight.

The first thing to point out is that the Clawthorns have a signature spell, that being this teleportation thing. The only characters in the entire series who do this burst of light and then warp are Clawthorns. There's some foreshadowing going on there.

"Renounce your wild ways and join the Emperor's Coven. He can help heal your curse!" "Don't believe everything that bone head tells you. He doesn't want to heal me, he wants to control me."

So, we have the two sides and their goals and ideologies. Freedom vs Safety, and we will get back to the nuance of this next week, when all the reveals happen. But for now, this is what both sides think they are playing for.

One of the most prevalent pieces of advice on the internet for combat in TTRPGs such as Pathfinder and D&D is "roleplay doesn't stop when initiative is rolled", in essence, characters are still characters when they are fighting. This scene is an example of what that means.

Eda is direct and to the point, she comes out of the gate looking for blood and clearly has the upper hand throughout this fight.

Lilith, however, is clever. Not to say that Eda isn't, but Lilith fights more tactically. She uses Luz as a shield, and is constantly talking and trying to get under her sister's skin.

"It's sad to see you slowing down, Sister. Tell me, is it the curse?" "Maybe it is the curse. But then how pathetic are you that you can't best me at my worst."

Eda is a ticking time bomb, and Lilith knows that she just has to outlast that. She is buying herself time.

There's also something really cool about how Eda and Lilith's magic is coloured. Eda leans into the fiery orange of wild magic and Lillith takes on a bright blue, and both of those kinda relate to Belos a bit.

Belos' gold is similar, but not exactly the same as the wild magic, he is offering freedom, but not exactly. Meanwhile his eyes are the only things in the entire series besides the magic that have that bright blue tint (Camilla's uniform comes close, but it isn't as bright).

"You always thought you were better than me. That I could never beat you at anything." "I am better than you." "Then why were you so easy to curse?"

Tick, tick, boom.

So, let's talk about redemptions for a moment.

There is a general atmosphere on social media that Lilith's redemption arc wasn't handled well, and I would like to peacefully say that I think this idea is bogus.

The argument comes from two points, the first being that Lilith wasn't built up as enough of a threat, and the second that she skipped the redemption part of her arc and moved straight to being redeemed. The latter of those arguments is a discussion for a later date, but the former I would like to discuss here.

This episode shows Lilith at both her most villainous and her least at the same time. It gives you a hint at her true motivation, and hints at her being manipulated, but it doesn't spell it out, yet. It's a set up for what will come later.

But in terms of being a true threat, let me just lay out what Lilith has done so far. Curse Eda. Capture Luz. Throw two children into a wall. Throw another child off a bridge. Try to push said child into a bed of spikes out of sheer spite. This is all in this episode, by the way.

I think Lilith needed to spiral like this so that she had further to climb from in her redemption arc in later seasons. You can't redeem someone who ain't done nothing wrong.

Thank you, nameless strawman opponent, you were very helpful in proving my point. Anyway...

"Luz, thank you for being in my life."

Wendy Malick needs more praise. This line is incredibly well performed, and that tiny hesitation is golden.

But, the meaning of this is also important, because this is the first time Eda has actually expressed any affection for Luz directly to her face. Otherwise she has been the distant, cranky mentour.

The Owl House plays with tropes a lot, but the mentour sacrifice is one it plays almost straight, and it hits incredibly hard. These are what Eda thinks are her last words to Luz, and its a thank you.

"I am richer for having known you, friend."

(If you get that reference, you can have a cookie.)

FINAL THOUGHTS

It's important to the pacing here that the heroes lose this episode well and truely. It sets up the finale well, and it gives an air of malice to both Belos and Lilith that is imperative for the next episode to have any weight to it.

This episode has garnered a ton of affection from the fan base, and I think it might be more popular than Young Blood Old Souls, and possibly on par with King's Tide and Hollow Mind, but that is just my observations and not backed up by any statistics. Let me know in the replies if you agree or disagree, I'm keen to know what you think.

Next week, I am tackling the finale, Young Blood Old Souls. So stick around if that interests you.

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