#I mean this in the way that sometimes it’s on the other side of the earth in the sky

[ziptie-bouquet]

I keep seeing this post with those awful reblogs on my dash and I genuinely wish most people in the reblogs were more ashamed to speak about this. Even if those specific reblogs don't name it, this is very blantantly about women since they are the overwhelming majority of people who say they hate men and hold them accountable. Even the other reblogs understood this since a lot of them are openly blaming women (regular feminists or radfems) for this. Some of them are even talking about misandry all the while women are losing their reproductive rights and bodily autonomy because men decided it. Have more shame in your life.

Women being scared of men in the streets is not oppression. Women having to make spaces just for themselves where they don't have men constantly sexualizing them isn't oppression. Men ARE factually destroying the lives of millions of women, sometimes even before those women are born. The most women do is mean posts online and not being sexually available to men. With the current political climate it is very much normal for women to be angry at and distrust men when they all overwhelmingly voted for them to lose their rights. It is normal to blame them, because they are to blame. Misandry is not real, men aren't oppressed, the most they get is side effects from forcing their way into a position where they are able to alienate a bit over half of the population. Minority men have power over and oppress the women in their own minority groups. Feminism does not need to center men's issues to be "good feminism". Feminism is for women and women are the victim of the patriarchy, not men. Men's biggest enemy will always be other men, not women. Women don't need to be nicer. It's not their responsibility to put themselves in actual danger in hopes that maybe some guys won't want to rape or murder them anymore. I would actually strongly argue that leftist men are in the position with the most power to change things. Men listen to other men more than they would ever listen to a woman, even moreso when they are radicalized misogynists. I just can't with tumblr and all the people claiming this is "the terf rhetoric that made leftist spaces bad :(". Just say you hate women and feminism at this point, because this is the most basic of feminist analysis: that women as a class are oppressed by the class of men, and that they won't stop by kindly asking them to. This isn't even radical feminism with how basic it is and has nothing to do with trans people. What actually makes men misogynist is, shockers, misogyny. Andrew Tate was popular not by being a nice guy who helped out other men but because he dangled in front of millions of men's noses the patriarchal dream they've been taught to want: being the money earner and having the ability to own women as property. And constantly shutting down women and their fight for their rights or telling them they're actually the ones who caused this because they were too mean is what is encouraging more men to be this way. Complacency with systemic misogyny will just create more misogynists. And to break out of that, people (mostly men) from both ends of the political spectrum need to stop shutting down feminism and actually take responsibility for their own actions and thoughts. All men are complicit in this until they finally call misogyny out too. Women's hatred of their oppressors isn't the issue.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[rayroseu]

The Details on Malleus' Clubwear✨

⚠️messy and overblown analysis lol

also thanks to malleus, i now have little trivia about history of raincoats 💀

I feel like this card's details are so unexpected. I think everyone (me included) expected it to have a sculptor's outfit (I still want the sculptor outfit lol) or a researcher, but we overlook one fact about Malleus' club: his daily activity as a club member is just walking and sight seeing the gargoyles around the campus as told in his School Uniform card.

The crafting part and the researching are just consequence activities of observing the gargoyles, after all, as you admire these gargoyles for a long time, naturally of course, you would be interested in their history and be inspired to create them.

His club's name is Gargoyle Studies Club, and it seems like even the room of this club is heavy on research activities. When Malleus says that he also crafts the gargoyles, he seems to say it as like a little fun fact of the club, that its just a side activity. His "club room" seems to reflect that in his club, they do more reading than sculpting.

Mentioning this, it seems like Malleus' clubroom is the NRC library, in the distance, you can see the mezzanine is the same and the floating books and the lights are also alike. Because NRC library only has one picture used often, its interesting to see it in a different view. The closest we got from his clubroom is from Halloween. but in Malleus' clubwear its just devoid of decorations.

Additionally, since this is his clubroom, Library is also a place Malleus frequents. there's many instance where Malleus stays in the library.

Labwear: I love how quiet the library is in the afternoon. You're welcome to join me there sometime, if you want to see what I mean. Halloween: I suppose I've no recourse but to scour each bookshelf one by one. .... I was gathering reference materials, and before I knew it, I was surrounded by this mountain of books. Dorm Uniform Vignette: No one came after two hours of sitting alone, so I headed towards the library and waited for an hour, before finally making my way to the Headmaster’s Office.

And on the opening of TWST, he was only seen in the Library. (The windows are the same and after this shot, Grim found Malleus sitting beside the window, the background there is the NRC library).

One more interesting thing about the room, there is a globe here which I think is a nice implication that Malleus is also interested in other countries architecture (as shown in his reaction in Silk City). This says that Malleus extends his interested in architecture outside of Europe, bcs he also likes seeing ruins and the history of fallen countries (Malleus Bloom Vignette). Gargoyles are only limited in mostly European settings but no matter what as long as the architecture is functional ig, He'll like them even if they had no gargoyles bcs he's intrigued by History in general.

(on 2nd picture) And this is what I was hyped about the room the most lol THERE'S FINALLY A CROW STATUE ILLUSTRATED FOR HIS CLUB 😭✨🙏

Malleus: Ones with features inspired by ravens are rare. This one is the only one I've ever laid eyes on, as it happens. Silver: I see a raven statue on this wall as well. Perhaps these gargoyles aren't so rare around here.

It seems that this gargoyle is still on the process of being made. I'd like to imagine Malleus is still crafting this and its beside many books bcs he's researching and referencing for its design. Like, he wants to craft a raven gargoyle accurate to the animal and its history.

Additionally, the shape being made looks similar to the raven statues around the Coloseum, but I think unlike these statues, Malleus intends to craft this as a gargoyle, bcs what he's crafting is a raven with an open mouth (for the rainsprout ig), not like these statues whose beaks are closed.

Now, to go about his outfit lol, I really really didn't expect the trench coat (which is literally his dorm uniform in different format lol) to make a comeback lol I thought his SSR are for him to wear different clothes alksdfjlkfd but he looks stylish and classic (true to his furniture style)

But like this is also a good joke where we know long coats always looks good with tall people (that's why he keeps wearing them) lol (Look, there's a reason why Lilia doesn't properly wear his trench coat properly, he knows this clothing is not made for little people lol)😂

OKAY I'm not a fashion history expert, and most that I'll ramble here are just quick searches, bcs I'm always intrigued at how insistent Diasomnia fashion is in being close with Military clothes. even Yana Toboso on 2020 Magical Archive says the Diasomnia uniform is based on military clothes.

mackintosh trench coat history

Obviously, TWST isn's accurate about it bcs they're trying to fit "a fantasy design." Regardless, I believe out of all the dorm uniforms, Diasomnia has the clearest vision of a certain time period (I think their fashion is mostly based on 19th-20th century Europe)

Both his dorm uniform and club wear are trench coat essentially. The wide lapel (the triangular collar), the belts on waist, the buttons/zipper on front, the long length of the skirt, its leather are similar features between them. Notably, trench coats was invented for military purposes, much like how Diasomnia clothes are meant to look like military uniforms.

But I think what sets his club wear outfit apart from his Uniform is the fact that his top has a draping around his sleeves. I feel like its a nice design to tell that his outfit here is specifically raincoat. The closest I could find that relates to 19th century is the Mackintosh, its basically the early invention of a waterproof clothing/raincoat.

Unlike a trench coat, mackintosh has one purpose; to shelter from rain, that's why in Malleus' clubwear he has no stuff hanging around his belt and outfit (accurate to the example of a mackintosh?) unlike his dorm uniform bcs this raincoat is apparently meant to be simple and minimalistic.

Its not like the trench coat which has to be multi-purpose. In his dorm uniform, Malleus has many things around his belt, its accurate to the purpose of a belt in trench coat so that a soldier can hang things on them.

Additionally. trench coat was developed from the mackintosh, which for me solidifies the fact that his dorm uniform and his clubwear really has parallel inspirations

That part of his outfit could also be just a cloak lol. But yh, despite the little "first invented raincoat" inspiration, I do still think clubwear outfit is more trench coat than anything lol, its the double breasted buttons there that convinces me

But its interesting for me, bcs these fashion aren't really "Maleficent-live action accurate." (I'm aware TWST doesnt just take inspiration from one source though) In the movie Maleficent, their fashion was more inspired with traditional clothes, like as faes/the Moors, I expected them as well to have these clothes that makes them look like willow trees to reference that they're more nature connected.

She doesn’t wear garments made of leather or velvet, because leather and velvet don’t fly. There’s nothing heavy. It’s all made of fabrics that are light and airy.

This was also said in the costume design of Maleficent (live action) and why she always wear loose dresses. I feel like costume design of Diasomnia took the opposite turn, probably bcs they want to highlight Diasomnia's importance to strength and this dorm's notable significance in war. (Coats like these basically was prevalent in World War garments).

Moving on, the umbrella lol IT'S CROWLEY'S CANE ALKFJDKLSD Okay no. the difference is that, Malleus' handle has a gargoyle, the reference is probably the gargoyles of Notre Dame (Glorious Masquerade sneak lol) While Crowley is the usual raven statue found in NRC.

I feel like there's smth deep that I want to explain here that a cane (Crowley) is more about providing a support (a cane is for walking support essentially) while an umbrella is more about providing shelter, which is quite accurate for Malleus since he's a person who consistently protects rather than support.

That aside, other than the trench coat, the umbrella was the cutest surprise 😭✨I was so focused at thinking about his outfit that I forgot what should be his weapon for his clubwear alksdfd An umbrella is a genius idea 😭✨

I'm convinced its an umbrella rather than a parasol because Gargoyles are meant to work against rainstorms. So Malleus probably uses this umbrella to observe the gargoyle directing the rainwater on the drains.

When Malleus first introduced the gargoyles on his school uniform, it was a clear day, he couldnt demonstrate a gargoyle working "in action" to Silver.

It's pretty cute to think that Malleus likes to stroll around the rain so that he can see the gargoyles "working hard to protect the buildings from erosion." 😭✨💞

Funny thing is, when Malleus got rained on in Silk City, he used a barrier so he can easily go out in the rain without an umbrella, just his magical barrier is enough.

But I think, he insists on using this umbrella bcs the design feels like it has some meaning (for me lol). The outside of the umbrella is blank while the gargoyle design is on the inside. When it rains hard, and you can see the edges of the umbrella dripping with rainwater, it creates this vision that the gargoyles inside it are directing the rainwater on the ground which probably fascinates Malleus, its like this umbrella is a portable roof with gargoyles lol

I think there are only two gargoyles on his umbrella, they're both dragons i guess, but one looks sharper while the other one is softer in features.

idk who this is supposed to mean, maybe its Meleanor and Levan- alkkfdklsfdlk

[mintmatcha]

so part of the reason he doesn't remember her is because it was such a shitty time at home and he was shutting down he's not just a fuckboy he's a TRAUMATISED fuckboy

If you were smart, you would have cleaned the place of every trace of you, but instead, you're forced to watch him pad through your belongings. Sero, the Sero, dreamboat Sero, is walking his fingers across the shelves in your living room, inspecting the rowing of manga. Sometimes, he hums, like he recognizes something. Other times, he stops on the figurines and pretends to shake their tiny hands in a horribly charming manner.

There's been boys in your apartment before. Well, a boy.

This is different. Sero is different.

He keeps looking back at you with these eyes, these damn eyes that you just can't resist, gently lidded with a smile that feels like it's just for you-

Liking him is stupid. You know that. Boys like him date pretty girls, thin girls, normal girls, better girls-

You adjust your clothes, pulling at the hem until you hear a definite pop. It's the exact outfit you saw on a pretty girl on tiktok, bought with three weeks of allowance, but it feel wrong and cheap against your skin. Wool over a wolf's body, poorly trying to disguise you as something you aren't.

Sero is effortlessly cool. His clothes are loose in they way that still makes him look lean and put together and purposely mismatched. Even his socks are different colors, one white, one black-

"You have a fun place, Cram School." Sero gives you a big smile. He calls you affectionately, since he claims to miss you when you're there. "You really like magical girls, don't you?"

You fiddle with the hem of your shirt more, tugging at the loose threads.

"...Yeah."

He waits a bit to see if you've got more to say, then turns back to your things. He's always attentive with you, even when Kirishima's other friends aren't.

"You totally wanted to be a hero as a kid, didn't you?" His teasing is light and your chest feels the same. "Like this guy?"

Technically, the figure he picks up isn't a hero, but you don't point that out. His warmth is melting you and you swear every atom in your body is slowly buzzing faster and faster.

"No, my quirk isn't good. I could never be a hero. I just..." You trip over your words because you know it's pathetic to admit. You adjust your glasses as you speak, sliding them up and down nervously. "They're sweet, and, and friendly. D-don't you ever wish you could transform into someone else for a little bit?"

There's another pause and you're forced to look directly at him. Your glasses slide down on their own.

"That was so cringe," you whisper.

His shrugs with one shoulder, scuffing his socks against the carpet. "Yeah. I do. Sometimes."

Sero sniffs, then hooks a thumb towards the television. "Do you wanna watch one?"

"A-a show?" you scoff at yourself. "You don't have to do that."

"You're so mean to yourself, Cram School. " Sero laughs. "I want to."

-

He asks questions the first episode. Good ones too. He posts to a character and whispers that it must be your favorite, since he saw the posters of her. Heat from his breath tickles your neck and that helium feeling in your chest just gets tighter.

The third episode, he slings and arm around your shoulders. You had been frozen tall, knees together with hands tucked into your lap, but then he drew you in, right into his collarbone. His elbows are sharp, but you don't mind. Not at all.

You debate touching him back, but your hands stay locked on the hem of your shirt.

When the credits roll, he turns to look at you, face so close to the side of yours that you can feel his nose bump against the wire frame of your glasses.

"Hey."

He whispers it as his hand finds your thigh.

"I'm going to kiss you now, okay?"

He waits a minute, held by your indecisiveness. His skin is acne bitten under his bangs, the pad of fat under his eyes puffs when he smiles.

This isn't a cruel joke, is it? Or some dream you'll wake up from? This is real, painfully real, something that no one can take away from you-

"Okay?"

No one will ever believe that you have a boy in your apartment, one that wants to kiss you despite the glasses and everything else undesirable about you.

Sero whispers you name. Not Cram School, but your name.

You gather up the willpower to squeak out an: "Okay."

And then he does. Lips are dryer than you thought they'd be, but the gentle pull of skin against skin enough to steal your breath away. His own breath quivers with a sigh; he must be able to tell it's your first time, because he goes purposefully slow, moving his mouth slightly more and more open until you match his movements.

When his tongue slips into your mouth, it tastes like the peach tea he's left on your countertops.

For once, you don't want to be anyone else.

[wstviewvidal]

birthday- w. maximoff

pairing: fwb!wanda x reader

summary: misunderstandings can change things.

a/n: hi all! i hope yall are good! i wrote this a little bit after the first part came out. i love angst! unsure if i want a third part. also, if you don’t like this literally don’t tell me because im sensitive and cry easily

minors do not interact

“i assumed you would’ve confessed to wanda by now” natasha says as she fixes a pile of papers on your desk, “you know, since you’re head over heels for her”

nat smirks as you give her the side eye and roll your eyes, you swivel your chair towards her.

“i’m not head over heels for her. i’m ju-“

“stupid?”

narrowing your eyes and tilting your head to the side, “okay, no”

meeting natasha was by far one of the greatest strokes of luck in your life. sure, she could be blunt at times— but when it comes down to it, she tells you what you need to hear.

unfortunately, this was also one of those times.

she has constantly insisted on the idea that you need to muster up the courage to tell wanda about your feelings for her. she always says that she believes wanda feels the same towards you, but your insecurities and doubt always get in the way.

except this would actually be the second time you confess, not the first. not that you even are aware of that fact.

you don’t really recall the first time you told wanda how you felt about her. you were drunk at a party, and only wanda has a clear memory of it. however, out of respect for you and your ability to get embarrassed quickly, wanda never brought it up again.

“i just feel like it’s a losing game, you know?” you say softly, rubbing your temples, “i always thought that if one of us were to tell the other if we caught feelings, it would be her. she’s always been more upfront with her emotions than i have. i think she really only sees me as what we’d agreed upon, nat. what if im just a way for her to pass time?

you pout softly, your emotions now coming forth in front of your long time friend and colleague.

“i just feel like she treats me like a girlfriend some days, and other days it’s just,” you take in a deep breath and groan out of frustration, “other days she tells me about a girl she saw, or someone she matched with on a dating app. do you know what i mean? i get mixed signals sometimes”

nat looks at you with a sympathetic look on her face, biting her lip slightly to keep from saying anything she really shouldn’t.

truth is, nat always had an feeling that you two would end up together one way or another, she’s always rooted for you two. the only way that could happen is if the two of you get your head out of your asses. in fact, she’d tried to get wanda to come forth about her own feelings.

however, wanda was dating someone at the time of said conversation— and out of respect for her then partner, wanda kept her quiet and buried her feelings deep inside. timing has never been on your side, will it ever?

“i don’t know if there’s anything i can say to get you to tell her, but,” she raises her eyebrows and makes her voice firm to try to emphasize her point, “all i can say is that wanda is a beautiful girl who’s got brains and a personality on her. she won’t be around forever. you know you won’t forgive yourself if you don’t at least try with her”

there it is, the brutal truth you knew that natasha was going to throw at you— and what sucks the most is the fact that it’s exactly what you needed to hear.

wanda has had to call off your agreement on a few occasions because she’d gotten serious with two girls; and each time it’d left you sobbing in natasha’s arms in her apartment because you couldn’t fathom the thought of wanda with another girl.

with a soft nod, “how should i even do that? or when?”

natasha begins another one of her long speeches about how you could be losing the person who could be the one, emphasizing how you’d be the one at fault if you let her get away.

on the drive home, you can’t help but replay natasha’s words in your mind, you aren’t sure why they they’re resonating this specific time.

“don’t wait too long, you know. you never know who could come along and sweep her off her feet. that’ll be the last time you have wanda like how you have her now”

those specific words echo in your head as you get home, unsure why they’re weighing heavy on your chest this time.

sighing softly, “come on, baby, i need to get you home,” wanda says as she guides you to her car with her hand guiding you by the lower back. she had your purse and coat in her other hand, ensuring she’d grabbed everything you’d brought with you.

you two were finally at the end of the road, officially a month from graduating college and decided to attend one last party together before you were thrown into the deep end of adulthood.

you had a few too many to drink that night and wanda knew by the fourth drink and the way you couldn’t keep your hands off of her, she had to get you home safely before you ran off somewhere as soon as she took her eyes off of you.

you reached for the handle of the car door before having your hand gently smacked away.

“you know better than that,” she started softly before opening the door for you and allowing you to get comfortable in her passenger seat. wanda knew you hated having your heels on in the car, so she crouched down to remove them before giving you a quick kiss to the cheek.

wanda pulls back gently to look at your face, your glazed eyes looking back at her with a look of.. adoration?

she smiles softly and places a gentle hand on the side of your face, “you’re beautiful”

rolling your eyes and trying to hide your blush, you giggle and nudge her shoulder in a playful manner.

wanda chuckles at how you’re easy to fluster with just two words. placing another small kiss to your cheek, she closes the passenger door.

you watched as she rounded the car and get into the drivers seat with low lidded glazed eyes, a small crooked smile on your face as you watch her. the maroon mid length dress she wore was nothing short of elegant. her curled dark hair and light makeup enhanced her features so beautifully that you feared you’d somehow spill your guts to her if she made one more right move.

but you couldn’t. wanda was seeing someone— granted, it wasn’t serious nor do you think they’d even slept together, but you were terrified of being that girl.

in fact, you were too. you had been seeing maria from your public policy course for the past two months but you could never bring yourself to feel for her what you so deeply felt for wanda. you two had a mutual break up a few days later.

wanda enters the car and shrugs off her coat, her arm muscles now showing even more with the street light illuminating the inside of the car in a specific way. she fixes her hair and puts on her seat belt before she looks over at you with concern.

“you okay, bub? what’s wrong?” wanda asks softly, placing a gentle hand on your thigh as she furrows her eyebrows at your distant far off look.

wanda had no idea what was going through your head, not a single clue as to what was about to come out of your lips.

“do you ever think meant to be together? or are we just destined to be some sort of parallel line that run close but never touch”

a flicker of panic come over wanda’s face and her gentle caress on your thigh stops abruptly.

the air in the car now feels heavier, as if the spoken words have broken the ‘casual-ness’ of your spoken agreement.

wanda always hoped you two would speak about this, but when you were sober and coherent.

it came out of your lips so naturally, as if you’d said it before.

like this has been weighing heavily on your mind for a while.

wanda’s heart clenched, especially at the fact that she had finally realized that you’d been wondering about the same thing she had for years.

“i-“

wanda was completely and utterly dumbfounded for the first time when it came to you. she often, no— not often, always had an idea of what would come out of your mouth.

she often found herself staring at you when you’d speak to your friends from across the room. she’d smile at how animatedly you’d react to people words and how you’d cover your mouth as you’d giggle at a joke someone said. she could easily pride herself in the fact that she knew you.

but this, what you’d just said, had her tongue tied.

she wished you were sober. she wished you were sober so she could confess that she’d been in love with you for so long, before you two even agreed to get into bed with each other. that ever since you two were nineteen during your first year of college, she couldn’t stop thinking of you in a way that friends shouldn’t think of each other in.

but you were drunk.

you were seeing someone and so was she.

so she made the hard decision to keep her silence and take you home safely, without any casualties.

“you’re drunk,” she says sadly, her eyes showing every ounce of emotion going in through her head, “let’s save this for another day”

that day never came.

walking through the door of wanda’s apartment to get into the party wanda said she’d throw you, you’re instantly greeted with a bunch of your closest friends and a few extra guests who happened to be their plus ones.

immediately, you found yourself scanning the room and smiling at the people who were in the space. you could hear chatter and laughter, warming your heart knowing that it all came from the people you knew and loved.

with soft music in the background and the smell of wanda’s cooking, you feel immediately at ease with the atmosphere of the party.

you walk in and are greeted by your friends wishing you a happy birthday. after thanking them and giving them hugs, you find yourself by the drink table to try and loosen up.

wanda was considerate enough, as always, to ensure that the people who were invited to the party were people you could actually stand to hold a conversation with unlike other parties where you had to endure endless small chat that rotted at your brain.

speaking of wanda, you’d yet to see her even though this is her apartment. you try your best to subtly look around the room for any sight of the girl who takes up space in your mind every day.

scanning the room, you look for the dark haired girl but come up short. pouring softly, you take another sip of your drink and go to find natasha who has a look of amusement on her face as she watches you search for wanda.

“how nice of you to finally make it to your own birthday party,” she teases, “you look nice. is this the dress wanda bought you?”

it was. in fact, you’d never been a fan of dressing too girly until wanda coaxed you into letting her buy you a dress, and this one happened to be the most recent one she’s bought you.

she was always a fan of how baby blue looked on you. she liked it so much on you that she took it upon herself to buy you another two dresses, each could be used for different events.

this specific dress fell just below mid thigh and you paired it with a simple pair of white heels. you kept your makeup natural and did your hair, subconsciously styling yourself the way you know wanda would compliment. i mean, she is the one who bought you this dress and threw you this party.

what are friends with benefits for if not that?

trying to hide a small blush at natasha’s words, you nod softly and try to look away to avoid her incessant teasing.

she laughs softly and nudges your shoulder, “i haven’t seen her”

you turn back to her with a furrow of your brows and try to act like you don’t know what she’s talking about.

“your girlfriend,” she says in a monotone voice, as if it’s obvious who she’s talking about.

a small pout forms on your lips as you realize that no one’s seen wanda. everything seemed to be flowing smoothly and it didn’t seem like she needed to go out to get anything for the party, so where could she be?

turning back to natasha and excusing yourself to go grab a quick snack from the kitchen, you turn on your heel to grab a quick breather before having to go back out and socialize all night.

while at the table, you feel a presence right next to you, staring. agatha.

“well, well,” she begins in that tone of hers, “it seems like your girlfriend isn’t yours anymore, huh? is that why you’re all alone?”

you quickly whip your head towards her. not yours anymore? your body feels like it’s gone cold and you can’t pry your eyes away from agatha, almost trying to urge her to say something else, to continue on with what she just started.

“what do you mean?”

agathas’s smirk widens as she realizes shes hit a nerve.

“well, she’s not glued to you like usual. no cozying up, no fetching you whatever you need, having you on her lap. i mean, what do you mean what do i mean?”

patience wearing thin and not wanting to deal with agatha beating around the bush, you step closer to her with a firm look on your face, “where is wanda? who’s she with?”

agatha is caught off guard by your sudden jealous and angry demeanor, she drops the act.

tilting her head towards the crowd, and giving you a look of pity, “sorry, babe. last i saw her she was cozying up with a girl with a green dress. you took to long to get your girl.”

your blood runs cold for the umpteenth time in just the past twenty minutes. it’s almost like your body knew this was coming but your brain didn’t. had you just lost wanda? was it for good this time?

you turn your head to look for natasha in the living room, she’s already looking at you with a look of pity. she nods her head to the opposite side of the living room, gesturing towhere wanda is with a dark haired girl.

a knot twists inside of your chest and it feels like the air has been knocked out of you. it’s like a movie you hate but can’t tear your eyes away from. wanda looks beautiful, happy.

and you hate it.

the two look comfortable together, sitting too close for your liking. wanda’s left leg is over her right and the girl has her hand placed on her thigh.

wanda’s looking at her with a look you believed was only meant for you. the softly smile on her face and the way her eyes drift down to the girls lips makes you sick.

they’re well into a conversation and you can see how wanda is laughing at her jokes, placing her hand on the girl’s forearm as she throws her head back in a fit of laughter.

it seems all too natural and intimate.

every interaction you watch them share feels like a blow to the stomach, the air feeling like it’s being knocked out of you again.

in this moment, you slowly begin to realize that wanda was never yours. every shared moment that you two shared together, every kiss and caress, was just a way to pass the time.

you feel nauseous.

you excuse yourself from agatha and quickly find a way to wanda’s patio, where it’s vacant and you can hide for a while out here.

wanda’s apartment had a beautiful view of the city. you two often sat outside together and cuddled with a blanket and a cup of coffee after work often. you found comfort in wanda, even if you were unsure of what you two were.

she worked hard for everything she had in life and it was something you truly admired about her. she didn’t have the easiest upbringing and the fact that she still remains soft after it all and continued to be a beautiful is something you love about her.

replaying the conversation with both natasha and agatha, you can’t help but feel like a complete idiot as you realize how everything almost felt as if it was foreshadowing to this very moment.

you hear the door to the patio open but don’t turn back, you already know who it is.

familiar soft footsteps stop right next to you and you immediately smell her perfume. it’s the same one you gave her a few years ago and for the first time, it makes you sick.

“you’re wearing the dress,” amusement in her voice as she looks at the city with you, “and you look beautiful”

you smile softly but don’t engage in conversation, just acknowledging her compliment. wanda frowns softly at your lack of attention, not used to you immediately turning around and throwing back a flirt remark at her.

watching you from the side of her eye, she can tell just by your body language that something is bothering you.

you two stand at the patio railing for another few minutes, just in each others presence, until she decides to point out the elephant in the room.

“are you okay?” she asks, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

wanda’s concern warms your heart, but you know it’s just meant to be in a friendly way. the way she always looks out for you always tugs on your heart strings.

you want to get angry with her. you want to yell and scream at her to get the hell away from you. ask her why she would string you along with pretty words and gentle gestures that screamed ‘i love you.’

but you can’t.

because at the end of the day, somehow you always find yourself back in wanda’s arms and you could never tell her you hate her. it just isn’t true. it couldn’t ever be true.

forcing the emotion down your throat, you force yourself to tell her you’re okay. forcing a smile as you look at her, you try to fake it.

but wanda knows you.

“bub,” with a soft voice, “what’s wrong?”

there it is. she knows exactly what to say, how to say it, and how to get her way.

“i just,” a deep breath, “i didn’t know you’d be bringing a date to the party.”

wanda’s face falters and she doesn’t know what to say. the girl back there was not at all her date, nor could she even fathom the idea of bringing another girl when today was supposed to be about you.

she dismissively waves a hand in front of her as she looks away, almost trying to deflect and avoid the topic, but she sees the way you’re trying to hide your hurt at the whole situation.

she begins picking at her finger nails, a nervous habit you’ve tried to help her stop. trying to figure out what to say, she stares at the ground. the last thing she’d ever want to do it hurt you, and yet here she was.

“she’s,” a slight moment of hesitation “she’s not my date. she just..”

her voice falters and she doesn’t know how to carry on so she just sighs and looks at you with an apologetic look.

wanda looks beautiful. i mean, how could she not? she’s wearing the outfit you love so much. the black pants and white top that you’ve always said makes her look sophisticated. you two always laugh at that, especially since the thought of you two now looking and acting like fully fledged adults is something that neither of you could never wrap your heads around.

“she’s just someone i’m talking to for the night, i swear” wanda fidgets uncomfortably, unsure of how to navigate this conversation. she’s never seen this side of you, the way your hidden jealousy wants to boil over.

you give her a sad smile and just shake your head, silently telling her she doesn’t have to continue. placing your hands over hers, you hold onto them tightly and bring them up to your lips to place a soft kiss against her knuckles.

“thank you for the party, wands”

wanda panics immediately, the way you said that felt like it had some sense of finality to it. anxiety fills her chest and she feels like her legs could give out at any minute. she tries to say something, anything, to get you to stay with her.

but she’s caught off guard and she doesn’t have anything on the tip of her tongue, except for the three words she’s wanted to say for so long.

giving her a hug, you hold her tightly and allow yourself to feel her touch one last time. you want to tell her you love her, tell her everything that you’ve been meaning to say.

but you fall short, like on every occasion you’ve wanted to confess.

you give her a kiss on the cheek and hold her waist as you pull back, smiling softly at her.

in this moment, you fully understand what natasha meant by telling you, “if you’re not going to tell her how much she means to you and you love her, you need to let her go. you know she deserves that much.”

wanda tries to hold onto you tightly, as if you’ll float away if she even let go for a fraction of a second. her heart was racing and she was on the verge of tears.

you release wanda as you take a step back, looking at her face and trying to take in as much of her as possible knowing this very well may be the last time you see her.

“i’ll see you.”

[mercillery]

ASL BROTHERS WITH A SHY S/O

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

CHARACTERS: Luffy + Ace + Sabo

NOTES: Do Luffy haters exist? It’s a dumb question, yes—but I’m genuinely curious. He’s so cute and dumb, I find it hard to not love him.

LUFFY

Luffy wouldn’t really “get” shyness in the conventional sense. But here’s the thing about Luffy: he’s all about accepting people as they are, no questions asked. He treats you with the same bright-eyed, wide-grinned enthusiasm he shows everyone. The idea of you needing to be more outgoing wouldn’t even cross his mind because, to him, you’re already perfect as you are. Shyness? Never heard of it. Just pass the meat, please.

Now, Luffy’s approach to social interactions is, well, 100% Luffy. He doesn’t really adapt his wild and carefree style to match anyone else’s comfort levels. If you're quiet and reserved, that’s cool—Luffy just goes on living life at full volume like it’s another Tuesday on the Sunny.

At first, you might be left wondering how in the seven seas you’re going to survive the endless hurricane of chaos that follows this rubbery captain around. But soon, and without realizing it, you start to find that his reckless antics and headfirst approach to life are... kind of charming. Sure, it’s like living next door to a tornado, but it’s a tornado that makes you laugh until your sides hurt and never lets you get too deep into your own thoughts.

What’s funny is that while he doesn’t actively try to make you feel more comfortable, he ends up doing it anyway. It’s his Luffy magic. You find yourself smiling more often, your shyness loosening its grip bit by bit as he does dumb stuff and throws himself into trouble that only Luffy would consider fun.

He’ll walk up to you, grin stretching from ear to ear, holding out some bizarre, questionably edible snack and say, “You gotta try this!” And just like that, the nerves you felt melt away—not because he’s making an effort to make you feel at ease, but simply because he’s himself.

And sure, sometimes his energy is a lot. We’re talking sprinting-across-decks, yelling-about-meat kind of “a lot.” But in the middle of all that noise, you come to realize that you feel safer and more at ease when you’re around him. Why? Because Luffy has this way of making everything fun and natural, and soon enough, that includes you too.

Before long, your shyness isn’t something you worry about around him; it’s just another thing Luffy accepts without blinking, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And in his eyes? It is.

It’s cute because you two really are like the sun and the moon, with Luffy as the blazing, never-stopping sun, and you being the more reserved, quiet moon. It’s like a cosmic duo—he’s all light and energy, and you’re the calm, cool reflection of it all. You balance each other out in the weirdest, most wonderful way.

And when people catch wind of the fact that Luffy is dating someone—let alone someone as shy as you—it’s like watching a cartoon character’s eyes bug out of their head. Yeah, they’re not wrong to be surprised, but Luffy doesn’t care. He’s already busy thinking about what’s next on the agenda, probably involving meat or some kind of treasure hunt.

Luffy is anything but shy. He could probably talk to a rock and think it’s the best conversation he’s had all day. So when it comes to affection, he’s not exactly one to shy away from it. He might not be the clingiest partner out there—he’s not going to be hanging off you like a koala (okay, maybe sometimes)—but you can bet he’s there, always.

Whether it’s randomly giving you a hug in or tossing his arm around your shoulder like it’s no big deal, he’s just Luffy—and that means showing affection wherever and whenever he feels like it, no matter who’s watching. Basically, he’s like a “here’s my arm, it’s yours now” kind of guy.

While Luffy doesn’t exactly get what makes you shy, he’s surprisingly good at picking up on your feelings. If you’re feeling anxious, or if you’re shrinking back into your shell a little bit, Luffy has this unbelievable ability to sense when you need a change of pace. Without even thinking about it, he’ll grab your hand and drag you off on some wild adventure, just to get your mind off things.

He doesn’t even need a reason—he just knows that you could use a distraction, and he’s the perfect person to provide it. Besides, that just gives him more time to spend with you! And, of course, he might offer you one of his beloved snacks or a full meal if you’re feeling off. Seriously, do you know how big that is? Luffy parting with his food is like a miracle in itself, so if he’s offering it to you, you better believe you’re special.

And let’s talk about the food thing for a sec. Do you even realize how big of a deal it is that Luffy shares his food with you? Like, do you know how many times he’s turned down offering a bite of his meat to anyone? Probably never. So when he hands you a piece of his prized food, you know it’s a huge honor. We’re talking sacred territory here.

If you ever doubted your place in Luffy’s heart, just remember: he shares his food with you. That’s a level of trust and affection that not even the grandest feast can outdo. Trust me, you’ve got a special place in his world, and it’s right next to the meat and maybe a little bit of the chaos.

Luffy’s naturally the type of guy who’d include you in absolutely everything—because why wouldn’t he? To him, you’re part of the crew, part of his world, and that means he’s going to drag you into every single bit of it.

You’d be minding your own business, maybe sitting quietly with your book or trying to sneak in a nap, when suddenly—BAM! Luffy's in front of you, grinning like a madman, already talking about the next big adventure or game that everyone’s playing. “C’mon, join us!” he’d say, and before you could protest, he’s already tossing you into the mix.

It’s not that he’s forcing you to join, though—Luffy just has this way of making you feel like you should be there, without ever putting you on the spot. His carefree, inclusive attitude makes it feel like the natural thing to do. You never feel pressure; you just feel... valued. Like you belong, whether you’re quietly cheering from the sidelines or joining in with your own brand of awkward enthusiasm.

It’s like Luffy’s energy is so contagious that you can’t help but want to be part of whatever insane thing he’s cooking up that day, even if it’s just watching him eat his weight in food and making random, nonsensical decisions.

If anyone ever crossed the line with you—teased you, made you uncomfortable, or said something that got under your skin—Luffy would flip the script faster than you can blink. That goofy, carefree grin would disappear in an instant, replaced by a rare, uncharacteristically serious expression.

Suddenly, he’s standing right in front of you like a human shield, ready to take down anyone who dared upset you. He’s usually a chaotic force of nature, but mess with his loved ones, and that’s when you see a side of him that is all about protecting you.

He wouldn’t hesitate to confront the person, his voice firm and unwavering. “Hey! That’s not cool! You don’t mess with my crew!” He’s not one for subtlety or second-guessing, so you’d know right away that Luffy’s on your side. If someone’s being rude or making you feel small, he’ll make sure they know they’ve messed with the wrongggggg person.

The crew’s used to this by now—because Luffy, despite his childish nature, would go to the ends of the earth to defend the people he cares about. You’d feel like the most important person in the world in that moment because, in his eyes, you are.

Luffy’s loyalty is on another level entirely. Once he’s decided he cares about someone, they’re in—no questions, no conditions, just pure, unfiltered loyalty. If you’re lucky enough to be someone Luffy loves, you’d know it in every grin, in every spontaneous gesture, and in every single, joyfully shouted “Let’s go!” You’d never have to second-guess where you stand with him, because Luffy’s affections are as clear as day, as honest and unwavering as the sea he dreams of conquering.

So whether you’re officially part of his crew or not, in his mind, you’re always one of them, and he’d tell anyone who’ll listen, “Yeah, they’re with me!” with a pride that’d make your heart swell.

The best part? Luffy would constantly invite you to tag along on whatever wild journey or ridiculous stunt he’s about to pull. There’d be no hesitation; it’d be, “Hey! Let’s go on an adventure!” as if going on an impromptu quest was as simple as taking a stroll to the market. It’s almost like Luffy has this unspoken rule: every exciting, crazy, fun thing has to be experienced with you.

From treasure hunts that end up in unexpected fights with sea kings to races through bustling ports (where he definitely has no idea where he’s running but is laughing the whole time), Luffy wants you there, right in the middle of it all. You’d probably sigh at the thought of jumping headfirst into another unpredictable situation, but Luffy’s enthusiasm is like a gravitational pull—it’s impossible to resist.

And thank goodness for that, because your timid self wouldn’t stand a chance at taking the lead in any of these wild endeavors. Luckily, Luffy’s the type to charge forward, dragging you along by the hand with zero doubts and zero plans. He makes all the decisions for both of you, which, sure, sometimes means ending up lost on an island full of very angry, very large monkeys because, “They looked friendly!”

You’d feel a mix of exasperation and endearment at his antics. He doesn’t realize it, but his willingness to be the fearless leader—even if his plans are sometimes made with the strategic prowess of a rubber chicken—takes the pressure off you. You don’t have to stress over decisions or worry about whether you’re doing the right thing, because Luffy’s already ten steps ahead (probably literally sprinting) and dragging you along with a confidence that borders on reckless.

And honestly? That’s part of the charm. His “plans” might be half-baked and a little foolish, but he makes up for it by being completely and unapologetically himself.

You’d find yourself smiling more than you ever expected, getting swept up in the whirlwind that is Luffy, and realizing that being with him means never feeling alone, even if you’re quiet or shy.

His laughter, his outbursts, and his impulsive decisions would all become things you cherish, because with him leading the way, life feels a little less scary and a lot more exciting.

ACE

Ace is all warmth and energy, like a bonfire on a chilly night, and he’d go out of his way to make sure you feel comfortable in his presence. Despite his natural tendency for excitement and spontaneity, he’d be mindful of your shyness, making a conscious effort to dial down the volume when needed.

You’d catch him lowering his voice a bit, softening his laughter, or even sitting a little closer with a reassuring grin. His laid-back nature would do wonders for your anxiety, melting it away bit by bit like ice under the sun. He’d take a more casual, playful approach when he’s with you, balancing his liveliness with a kind of gentle attentiveness that makes your heart feel at ease.

Ace has a knack for starting conversations, even if the topic is completely random. He’d sense your hesitance and jump in without skipping a beat. “Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to cook for the crew and accidentally set a whole forest on fire?” he’d start, eyes twinkling as he watches your reaction.

His stories are always ridiculous—stories of clumsy mishaps, epic pranks gone wrong, or that one time he fell asleep mid-battle. You’d find yourself laughing in spite of yourself, the tension in your shoulders easing as you realize he’s making himself the butt of the joke, just to make you feel more at ease. He’d keep talking until he sees that spark of amusement in your eyes, and then keep going, his smile growing wider every time you giggle.

And Ace’s teasing? Oh, he’d be a master of that fine line between making you laugh and making you blush. He’d lean in, smirking just enough to be charming, and say, “What’s this? A smile? I knew it was in there somewhere.” His playful comments would come with a wink and a laugh, just enough to make your face warm, but never enough to make you feel like you’re being put on the spot.

If he ever saw you growing quiet or noticed that hint of panic in your eyes, he’d immediately back off, switching to a softer tone and throwing in a quick “I’m just messing with ya” followed by that disarming grin of his.

Ace would be incredibly in tune with your reactions, watching for the tiniest signs that you’re feeling overwhelmed. The moment he picks up on it, he’d change gears—maybe suggesting a quiet spot on deck where you could sit together and watch the stars, or offering to take a walk to get some fresh air. He’d brush off the seriousness with a light, “Hey, it’s just us. No pressure, alright?” The way he says it makes you feel safe, like it’s just you and him against the world, no expectations or worries allowed.

Ace is the definition of a warm hug in human form, so being a tactile person comes naturally to him. But when it comes to you, he’d show an impressive amount of restraint—not an easy feat for someone who’d usually throw an arm around a friend without thinking twice. Well, you’re not just his friend but his lover, obviously—but what I’m getting at us that he’s a pretty affectionate guy.

He’d start small, easing you into it with light touches: a friendly pat on the shoulder when you share a joke, a playful ruffle of your hair that would leave you smiling and maybe a little flustered. You’d catch the subtle glances he’d shoot you afterward, as if he’s silently checking, Was that okay? Did that make you uncomfortable? It’s endearing how he’s so in tune with your comfort level, his natural affection turned into a gentle dance of patience and care.

As time went on and your confidence around him grew, Ace would start to introduce more meaningful touches. He’d sneak in side hugs when you’re sitting together, leaning into you with that easygoing smile of his that made your heart race. And when the day finally came that you leaned into him on your own, whether it was out of exhaustion or just because you felt safe, the soft, proud look on his face would be priceless.

Ace would make a big deal out of it in the quietest way possible, his hand finding yours in a reassuring squeeze as if to say, Hey, look at you, being brave. Eventually, he’d graduate to full-on snuggling when you were comfortable, and the first time he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you close, you’d know just how deeply he cared.

And when social situations become too much—because let’s face it, Ace has a lot of friends and a magnetic personality that draws people in—he’d be the first to notice if you’re starting to feel overwhelmed.

In those moments, he’d spring into action without making it obvious. He’d tell a ridiculously over-the-top story, one that would steal the spotlight from everyone else and have the whole room’s attention fixed on him, leaving you a moment to breathe.

Ace would always throw himself into being the distraction, whether it meant cracking jokes or reenacting a failed stunt that ended with him pretending to trip over his own feet. He’d shoot you a quick wink in the middle of it, as if to say, See? I’ve got you.

It’s not that he wanted to be the center of attention—okay, maybe a little, but only when it’s for you.

He’d take on the role of court jester, chaos-maker, or even reluctant hero if it meant taking the pressure off you for a while. If anyone questioned it, he’d brush it off with a laugh and a shrug, all while keeping an eye on you to make sure you were okay.

And if things really got too much, Ace wouldn’t hesitate to steer you away from the noise altogether, leaning in close and saying, “Let’s get outta here for a bit, yeah?” He’d lead you somewhere quieter, a hand on your arm or fingers interlaced with yours, the simple touch grounding you as you walked.

You’d both end up somewhere peaceful, maybe under the stars or by a flickering campfire, where he’d wrap an arm around your shoulder and say, “You don’t have to explain. Just take your time.” And you would, with the steady thump of his heartbeat right next to yours, knowing he’d take on the world just to make sure you felt comfortable and safe.

Ace would be your number one cheerleader, hyped beyond belief over every little victory you achieved. You managed to say something in a group conversation? He’d beam at you like you just solved world peace. “Look at you go! You’re amazing!” he’d shout, probably a bit louder than necessary, with that signature grin that lights up his entire face.

If you reached out to touch his arm or, heaven forbid, initiated a hug, there’d be a solid five minutes of him staring at you in delighted disbelief before breaking out into an excited, “Did you just—? You did! You did!”

What you might not notice is that whenever you step even half a toe out of your comfort zone, Ace is in the background punching the air with all the subtlety of an over-caffeinated kid at a birthday party.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a tiny thing, like making eye contact with someone new, or a big step like saying a few words in front of the crew—Ace is celebrating it like you just discovered the One Piece itself.

He might look a bit unhinged to anyone passing by, but he’s never cared about that. You’re his person, and your wins are his wins. He’s just out here being the proudest guy alive, punching invisible foes and mouthing, That’s my partner!

And the way he looks at you? It’s like you’re the most priceless treasure in the world, and not just in the fleeting, pirate-wants-your-gold way. No, Ace’s gaze is full of warmth and genuine awe, the kind that makes you feel like you’re wrapped in a blanket of sunshine.

When you speak, whether it’s a confident statement or a hesitant mumble, Ace is all ears. His eyes would fix on you with this almost comically serious expression, nodding along like you’re revealing some ancient, life-altering secret.

You could point to the sky and say, “That’s the sky,” and he’d respond with a deep, earnest nod and a wide grin, “Exactly! I love that you noticed!” The rest of the crew might shake their heads and mutter things like, “Here they go again,” but Ace doesn’t care. If it matters to you, it matters to him—simple as that.

It doesn’t matter how mundane your observation is or how shyly you say it; to Ace, every word is golden. He’d hang on every syllable as if you were weaving a tale worthy of a bard’s song. You’d catch him repeating things you said back to you later, just to show he’d remembered, saying things like, “Oh yeah, like you said the other day, the sky really was a perfect blue.”

It’s almost ridiculous, but that’s Ace—he’d make you feel like every tiny thing you did was extraordinary, because in his eyes, it truly is.

SABO

Sabo is the calm breeze compared to the whirlwinds that are Luffy and Ace, which makes him the perfect blend of approachable and comforting.

With his natural ease and warm, diplomatic demeanor, you’d find yourself feeling more at peace around him sooner than you’d expect. Sabo’s the kind of person who could have a conversation with anyone, but when he’s with you, you’d feel like you’re the only one in the world that matters.

He’s just got this knack for making everything feel safe, like he’s a sturdy anchor in a storm. If you ever started to feel overwhelmed, Sabo would be the first to notice, with a quiet attentiveness that doesn’t scream I’m watching you but more like I’m here if you need me.

He’d be a master of subtlety, paying close attention to what made you nervous and what helped you open up, all without making it seem like he was analyzing you. You’d catch him making mental notes when you shifted uncomfortably or lit up at something specific. He’s probably like, “Write that down, write that down!” in his head.

And he’d use those observations to make your interactions more comfortable. If he noticed that certain topics or big crowds made you anxious, he’d steer conversations towards lighter things or find a reason to take a quiet walk somewhere less crowded.

Sabo would never rush you into sharing more than you were ready for. He understands that trust is built slowly, like adding logs to a fire, not dumping gasoline on it and hoping for the best.

Sabo would show his affection in the most considerate ways, taking into account what you’d find comforting rather than overwhelming. That being said, grand and dramatic gestures aren’t his style when it comes to you; he’d save those for his other acts of rebellion.

With you, he’d stick to smaller, more intimate actions. He’d brush his fingers across yours before holding your hand, always making sure it was welcome. He’d lean in a little closer when you’re talking, eyes fixed on you with that soft, attentive gaze of his that makes you feel like you have all the time in the world.

There’d be moments when he’d reach out with a light touch on your arm, or just the simple press of his shoulder against yours when you sat side by side, enough to let you know he was there but never too much to make you uncomfortable.

It’s like he has a sixth sense for what was just the right amount of closeness. And if you ever looked unsure or nervous, Sabo’s eyes would catch yours, full of warmth and encouragement, like he was silently saying, Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.

The patience he’d show would be unmatched; you could almost hear him mentally cheering you on even if you were just picking your words slowly or taking a deep breath before saying something important.

And the way he’d support you? Subtle but powerful. If you ever found yourself second-guessing or fumbling, he’d quietly step in to help redirect the conversation or offer a reassuring comment. “I think that’s a great point,” he’d say with genuine enthusiasm, giving you that extra boost of confidence.

And when you’d catch him watching you speak, the look in his eyes would always be one of admiration—never judgment, never pressure, just pure, patient support. And whether it’s a simple chat or a quiet walk together, Sabo’s presence would be your reminder that you’re valued, seen, and cherished, just as you are.

When it came to conversations, Sabo would be your guy for deep, meaningful talks, but with a healthy dose of humor to keep things light. He’d pick the coziest, quietest corner on the ship or at a café, leaning in with a thoughtful smile and saying, “Alright, you ready to hear some top-secret stories about Ace and Luffy’s greatest flops?” And he’d be off, recounting tales of Luffy trying to eat something he really, really shouldn’t have or Ace’s legendary nap times that ended in near-disaster.

His stories are designed not just to make you laugh, but to remind you that even these larger-than-life brothers were and still are total dorks sometimes. And before you know it, you’re easing into sharing a few of your own stories, prompted by his gentle encouragement and the safety his presence provided.

If there was ever a moment where you hinted at wanting to join in on an activity or step outside your comfort zone, Sabo would light up like someone just told him there was free cake on deck. But instead of jumping up and down and looking crazy, Sabo’s celebration would be the dignified, internal kind.

Picture a boardroom in his mind filled with 10 tiny Sabos all jumping out of their chairs, high-fiving each other, and throwing confetti in the air. On the outside, he’d just offer you that calm, reassuring grin and a simple, “You’ve got this. And if not, we’ll laugh about it later, yeah?”

He’d be your biggest silent cheerleader, always ready with a patient hand to guide you or a subtle nudge if you needed it. If you wanted to join in on a game or join a conversation but hesitated, Sabo would seamlessly include you, making it feel natural and not like he was pointing out your shyness.

He’d say things like, “Hey, I think Y/N would be perfect for this—what do you think?” and then shoot you a wink that says, See? Not so bad, right? And when you took that first step, whether it was a comment or a hesitant laugh at a joke, Sabo’s inner cheering squad would be losing their collective minds.

So while Ace might be punching the air and Luffy would probably shout, “You did it!” at full volume, Sabo would play it cool—at least on the outside. But don’t be fooled. The minute he see’s you trying something new or making a move outside your comfort zone, those 10 tiny Sabos in his head would be throwing a full-on carnival, complete with fireworks and dancing.

And he’d just keep giving you that look that said, You’re amazing, and I’m so proud of you. Because to him, you’re always worth celebrating, no matter what.

If there’s one thing Sabo doesn’t tolerate, it’s someone messing with the people he cares about. So if he spotted you feeling uncomfortable or noticed someone trying to be intimidating, he’d swoop in with the subtlety of a master diplomat. Sabo wouldn’t make a scene, but instead, he’d redirect the situation like an absolute pro.

Maybe he’d throw out a well-timed joke, ask a question that shifts the focus, or suddenly develop an urgent need for your opinion on something random, like, “Hey, didn’t you say you know a lot about… apples?” The offender would be left blinking, and you’d find yourself in a new conversation before you even realized what happened. Crisis averted, all thanks to Sabo’s suave social maneuvering.

And then there’s Sabo’s sweeter side—his covert operation of affection. He knows that grand, dramatic proclamations can sometimes make you want to dive head-first into the nearest bush, so he’s perfected the art of subtle, heartfelt gestures.

He’d leave little handwritten notes tucked in places he knows you’ll find, maybe in your favorite book or slipped under your plate at breakfast. Each note would be filled with the kind of genuine, thoughtful words that would make your heart do an embarrassing little flip. They’d say things like, I know you’re stronger than you think, and I can’t wait for the world to see it, too, or The stars were beautiful last night, but not as much as seeing you smile today.

And don’t even get started on the letters. Oh, the letters. Sabo would write you these intricate, beautifully crafted notes that read like they came straight from the heart of a poet who’s just returned from a victorious battle.

He could have just finished a day of intense Revolutionary Army missions, covered in dust and exhaustion, but you’d still get a note that starts with, Hey, you. I’m thinking about you, and ends with some metaphor about how your presence makes the world brighter, even when he’s knee-deep in chaos.

You’d find trinkets, too—maybe a small charm he found that reminded him of you or a pressed flower from somewhere he thought was pretty. It’s the little things that would make your day and remind you that, no matter what chaos he’s wrapped up in with the Revolutionary Army, you’re always on his mind. And when you’d look up at him, cheeks flushed from finding yet another one of his notes or small gifts, Sabo would just grin that charming, lopsided grin and say, “Did you find it? Good. I meant every word.”

He’s protective, thoughtful, and romantic in a way that feels like it’s tailored just for you. And even if he’s balancing the weight of revolutions and strategic plans, Sabo makes sure you know that you’re not just part of his life—you’re the best part.

[lucysarah-c]

Semester's bingo card

You considered yourself grateful. Robert was a saint of a boss, paying you more than anyone else would for a part-time, working university student. Perhaps it was because you'd once found him sprawled on the library floor, unable to move, and helped him. Since then, you'd been offering to do his grocery shopping and sometimes cooked homemade meals for him. 

Usually, you'd complain that a man should know basic skills like cooking, but Robert was pushing eighty, his lifelong wife had passed away a few years back, and without kids, he was completely alone. He was a good man, a product of his time, and you tried to overlook that. 

You still remembered how the two of you met. You’d been searching for used books for university and found his Tea-Library. You could afford the tea more than the books, so you spent all day reading there. There were almost no other patrons; the place had suffered the saddest story ever told: time. 

Next to it was a “pop-up” of whatever new, overpriced coffee brand some influencer had probably promoted, and on the other side, an Apple reseller. From outside, it seemed ridiculous—the original, charming structure surrounded by big, white boxes that blocked nearly all the sun. 

The place smelled damp, a mix of mold, old books, and tea leaves. But soon, you started calling it home. Talking to Robert helped you improve your language skills; as a student from outside Paradise, no one had prepared you for the local accent. You did your best. Everything was normal, peaceful—until you asked if you could pick up extra hours. Money was tight, and you’d heard he’d fired the guy who worked night shifts. 

Why a tea library needed a full night shift? You had no idea, and in hindsight, it should have set off alarm bells in your mind. But what made more noise than warning bells? Your stomach. 

At first, Robert was reluctant, hinting that a “young lady” shouldn't be walking home so late. But you insisted; it was the best solution. You’d cover the full night and morning shifts, go to classes in the afternoon, rest for a few hours, then return for the night shift (with the bonus that nobody came to the library at night). A one-way ticket to dying at 30 from stress. But hey, dead at 30 with a degree—that was something, right? 

That’s when you met him. The entry bell rang at 2 a.m. You glanced at your phone, frowned, and thought, ‘Who the hell needs a book and a tea at 2 a.m.?’ But you pasted on a smile and said, “Yes, what can I help you with?” 

He was short, especially for a man, and wore those expensive, brandless clothes that rich people often wear. By his manner, you could tell he had more than a couple of million in the bank. His eyes were sunken and a striking gray, piercing against his pale face and dark hair. You froze. If the word “friendly” had an antonym, his face would be pictured next to it. 

“Uh, yes? How can I help you?” you repeated, a bit unsure. Two others stepped in behind him—a guy and a ginger girl with a precision-cut bob and golden eyes. They were well-dressed too, but the girl’s chic look caught your attention most. 

A gray-haired dude trying hard to look tough lifted one side of his mouth in a smirk and seemed about to speak. But the shorter man shot him a deadly glance over his shoulder, then turned back to you with a softened expression. “Good night.” 

“Good niht—I mean, night. Sorry,” you corrected yourself, nerves getting the better of you. 

“I’d like a Lapsang Souchong to go and a first edition of Narziß und Goldmund that was reserved for me,” he said bluntly but respectfully. 

“Sure,” you replied, slightly confused, hopping down from your tall chair where you’d been working on a last-minute essay. As you searched for the book and let the water heat up, you noticed him waiting by the front desk, his attention caught by your scattered handwritten notes and books. 

Back at the desk, you handed him the tea and book. “That’ll be $57.89.” 

The room’s tension rose like boiling milk. The two behind him frowned deeply, and the dark-haired man hesitated. “Did I say something wrong?” you asked, suddenly nervous. 

“No,” he replied quickly, pulling his wallet from his long black coat. 

“You can pay by credit and—” 

He placed a hundred-dollar bill on the counter, tucked the book under his arm, and took the tea. “Oh, I’ll get you the change—” 

Before you could move, he was already leaving. “Keep the change.” 

You stood there, baffled. He gave orders like this was the military. The next time he came in was two days later. He was taking out his wallet, but you stopped him. 

“Uh, I just wanted to say I’m new on the night shift and wasn’t aware of the...dynamics.” His piercing eyes locked onto you, making you stutter. “So, um—the owner told me you’re a family friend or something? Whatever you order is on the house. I’ll get you a refund from last time.” 

But he just placed more money on the desk. “It’s a tip,” he said flatly. “Take it.” 

“I really can’t—” 

“You’re a student, right? Probably broke. Take it. I’m leaving it here, so either you take it, or someone else will.” 

Soon, you realized he was a regular during the night shift. A book was always left behind for him, under the name Levi Ackerman, and he’d order a different tea each time. Occasionally, he’d be with the ginger girl or a different guy—a tall, dirty blond with a goatee or a dark-haired one. The gray-haired one was the loudest of the group. But recently, he’d been coming alone, asking you for tea recommendations. 

“You’re not bad at this,” he remarked once, catching you off-guard. When you looked confused, he clarified, “At brewing tea.” 

You felt a silly sense of pride. “Tea is an important ritual in my culture.” 

Maybe it was because you’d been missing home a lot. 

“How’s university?” 

“Good, I’m doing a master’s at Sheena’s University,” you explained. 

Slowly, you got used to him coming in and having short conversations. You never opened the books left for him; your boss had given strict orders, and you obeyed. One time, Levi caught you using a pen to scrape the last bit of lipstick, trying to make it last. You must’ve seemed distant. 

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t expecting you today,” you said, snapping back to reality. “There’s no book left behind for you today.” 

Levi scanned your face as if he were reading an open book. “No, I came for the tea,” he replied curtly. “What’s the matter?” 

Pressing your lips together, you shook your head. “It’s nothing.” 

“Tch,” he didn’t seem to appreciate your answer. “I don’t like when people lie to me. And even less when they waste my time. What’s the problem?” 

You weren’t sure why you told him; maybe you just needed to vent. But two days later, you regretted it deeply. You hadn’t been explicit—“My main course professor has been... getting handsy. He threatened to pull my scholarship if I reject him. I don’t know what to do.” You hadn’t even mentioned the professor’s name, but a chill ran down your spine when you checked Twitter and saw the news. 

“Suicide.” 

Now it made sense why he’d demanded you go to his office, yet he wasn’t there when you arrived yesterday. Dead... ‘He’s actually dead.’ 

‘And the last person he talked to was me.’ 

You kept checking your phone and the front door, waiting for the police to show up. But they never did. No one came to question you. While that should have been reassuring, it wasn’t. Especially after you began putting two and two together and decided to open the book that was supposed to be picked up that night. 

Inside were names, districts, drug codes, and political parties—all written in code. This time, when Levi stood in front of the desk, you were terrified. 

“So? How did finals go?” His voice was as calm and monotonous as ever. 

You didn’t even want to go near the desk, standing slightly back and nervously playing with your fingers, your nerves eating you alive. “Please... I—I wasn’t asking for a favor. I don’t want to be involved in any of this. I didn’t want him dead.” 

Levi raised his eyebrows in surprise, then immediately relaxed. “Oh,” he groaned, “I was enjoying you treating me like a normal human being. Did the police reach out? Do you have the officer’s name?” 

You shook your head, unable to say a word. 

“Did anyone else speak to you about it?” he continued, throwing questions at you. You shook your head again. 

“Then don’t worry, idiot,” he said almost tenderly. “Did you open my book?” 

It took you a split second to shake your head again. He narrowed his eyes in warning. “I don’t like people lying to me.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

“Tch, I’m surprised you lasted this long being so loyal,” he said, clearly disinterested. “Just keep your mouth shut. Not that anyone would believe you, but I don’t want to deal with it.” 

“You’re... part of a mafia?” 

For the first time, you saw him chuckle. “You’re kinda cute.” The compliment made you blush, even though it shouldn’t have. “I’m not part of a mafia; the mafia is mine. My family has served the royal family of Paradise for generations. The Ackerman genes have to be put to good use. I just make sure everything runs smoothly, and if it’s illegal, it’s done right.” 

You frowned, feeling as though he was treating you like a naive child. “Well, excuse me. My ‘Welcome to Paradise’ guidebook from university didn’t include the organized crime tour.” 

“How did you think an old man like him could afford this place, prime real estate downtown in one of the biggest cities in the world, and pay you so well?” You shrugged at his question; yes, it was suspicious, but you hadn’t cared. 

Levi slid the book across the desk, the sound of the cover scraping against the wood filling the uncomfortable silence. “Don’t worry, that asshole had multiple complaints of sexual harassment at work. He’s doing the world a favor being fish food.” 

He pulled out his wallet and paid as usual, but this time he left double the amount. “I don’t want to be paid. I don’t want to be involved,” you insisted. 

Levi gave a subtle smile. “It’s for a new lipstick. Dior just launched one—my cousin has it. I bet it’d look good on you.” 

As he crossed the door and the bell rang again, you called after him, “I don’t need Dior!” 

Attracting the attention of the head of the Ackerman family wasn’t on your “semester bingo,” that’s for sure. 

(I don't know what this is, it just came to me as I was at work)}

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[alexiswritingstuff]

A partner in the dark.

Pairing: Logan x male reader

Request: Logan with a m!reader who has insomnia/just can’t sleep?? I can’t sleep, but I’m never sure if it’s insomnia because other times I sleep just fine. maybe it’s anxiety, idk - but sometimes I think all those problems would go away if I just had a big fluffy man to cuddle on, y’know??

Warnings: none.

A/n: this might be the shortest fic I have ever written. This request is so unbelievably real. As always, be aware that my characterisation of Logan may be a little off as I'm still getting used to writing for him, and that there may be spelling mistakes and such as I can tend to miss them.

To the person that sent this in I hope this is what you were asking for, and that you enjoy it!

The same goes for everyone else!!

Logan masterlist.

The awareness of time had been lost. It had been hours at this point. The only certain thing was that the night had taken over the sky.

Your room was cascaded in the usual darkness, except for a few streams of the outside light that escaped through a parting of the curtains. Apparently they hadn't been closed right.

To put it simply, you were wide awake in a bed that practically served no purpose. 

Your eyes were stuck on the ceiling. There was no particular reason. I mean, there wasn't anything to look at anyway, it was just plain white. A shade that was really starting to get boring.

But alas, every attempt at peeling your gaze from it or even just shutting your eyes had failed. Similar to the effort to sleep.

Multiple times the rustling of the bed sheets would crackle through the air as your limbs shifted across the mattress, though the only thing really achieved was discovering a new position.

Eventually, your back was the last option left. So, there you were, stuck facing upward while your hands sat on top of each other on your chest. You could feel it rise and fall. Even the faintest beats of your heart.

And it still didn't work.

An exhale parted your lips after sucking in through your nose. There was one more try for comfort, your shoulders sort of rubbing into the bed as if they were the source of the problem.

“Can't sleep?”

You blinked initially, the sound almost delayed in your ears as your senses weren’t as active as they were before.

Soon, your head loosely lolled to the side, at most an attempt to send a simple glance at the man. Though, it remained when you had met with his dark eye. 

Only one was on display; the other engulfed by the pillow. He lay opposite you, in more ways than one. He was on his stomach as he peered at you, eyelids visibly heavy; each blink lasted longer than the next.

“Did I wake you?” you whispered. 

Logan sort of huffed at that, air piercing from his nose. “Could,” he corrected through a grumble, “until some guy kicked me in the leg.”

The side of your face fully pressed into your pillow, chin lowering, so that you could face him enough. “I did?” You were cringing, concerned gaze fixating on Logan while he slowly but surely started to twist his body round with an equal amount of groans. 

There was almost a sigh of relief when he had landed on his back, his body bouncing just a tad from the sudden movement. “Don’t worry about it.” he offered with some gruffness, his lack of energy seeming to affect his use of tone. 

It had you just looking at him for a moment. Watching the last few times he blinked before his eyes decided to stay closed. You hummed for a response, a sound so light it had barely even made its way through your throat.

And then you were back to facing that dreaded ceiling. It almost annoyed you by how smooth it looked. Didn’t even look like it had been painted, even if it had; there were no streaks or imperfections. Just purely white.

“What’s wrong?”

This time, you didn’t budge. “Nothing.” you practically whispered. “You sure?” Logan was quick to ask, seeming to shuffle around a little bit as the bed creaked, “I personally don’t find a ceiling all that interesting.”

The tensity in your muscles eased, especially in your face, when you allowed your head to turn. Yet again.

He was looking at you through almost half lidded eyes. Though, his eyebrows were raised, inviting your answers. You sighed, trying to think of the right words to use before your lips inevitably parted. 

“My brain’s too loud.”

It was the only way you could describe it. I mean, the room engulfing the two of you was silent. Completely silent. There were no sounds of birds from outside, or wind. Not even a car driving passed on the road. 

If a pin had been dropped in any corner of the room, maybe even right down the hallway, you would have heard it. Thus, it was all from your head. 

Logan seemed to sit up a little at that. The movement wasn’t so much in his body than it was his head as it raised slightly from the pillow beneath. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

You could’ve pictured the expression on his face if you hadn’t already been looking at it; the furrowing of his eyebrows, the squint of his eyes, the light frown that dragged the corners of his lips. Now, he was awake. 

You shook your head, as much as you could in your position. “It’s just annoying.” you confessed, grabbing onto Logan’s hand when he reached over.

Initially it was aimed towards your face, but you held it instead. You needed something in your hand; to feel it. “I’m so tired, but when I try to sleep nothing happens, you know?”

“It’s the one thing I should be able to do– like everyone else, and I just… I can’t. I can’t get myself to stop thinking.”

Logan’s other hand came up from somewhere under the sheet, dragging along the bedding until it could finally make contact with your face. An exhale instinctively huffed through your nose at the touch, and the feeling of his warm fingers. He caressed along your cheekbone. “Come here.”

You stared back at him for a moment, his features barely visible in the few streams of light until it got to his shining eyes.

Logan let go of you for a moment, grabbing at the dog tags around his neck before pulling it to the side. And then he held his arms out, proving that he meant it.

You complied.

Your head ended up landing on his chest, mostly because he guided it there himself, and it was almost instantly that your body melted onto his.

You could feel his arms encasing you, finding their wanted positions just like yours were, though eventually his hands had settled around your shoulders.

His heartbeat was right in your ear; the slow rhythm of it, the thuds themselves. Truthfully, even if none of this helped you to sleep, you still wouldn’t mind listening to it until the sun came up. 

“There’s nothing to worry about now,” Logan insisted with a breath that raised you with his chest. He pressed a kiss to your head before leaning his chin against it, “It can wait until morning.”

“I can’t just shut my mind off, Logan–”

“It can wait.” he maintained, tightening his hold on you as he shifted slightly on the bed. 

It had you wanting to roll your eyes. To shake your head, maybe even roll off of him completely, but there was something about it that made it impossible to do so. 

You were surrounded by his warmth. His arms. Him. He had given his body to lean on, and offered the sound of his heart right to you; a sound you don’t get to hear very often. There was no chance that you were moving. 

By the next exhale, your head had sunk further into the bare skin of his chest. The two of you practically melded together. 

Your fingers lightly traced along the back of his arm, following the edge of his muscles as the sound of his breaths filled your ears. “Thank you.” you whispered after a moment, finally letting your eyes fall closed.

“No need.”

[lostwordsfromthatdarkcorner]

Which is why we have to make THEM rethink their views.

Providing evidence or actively arguing with them will make the other side defensive. They'll be less inclined to listen, going back to their echo chambers. A lot of people are pointing to how the Left and Right seldom interact, which may have exasperated the divide in this election.

In my college psych class, we were taught that it's more effective to have people change their own mind. Which I understand if you think, "That's crazy. You're crazy. They'll never see reason!". But at the end of the day, we are all human. We all want affordable food and house. To live our lives. It's just the way to that goal is different or given different logic.

I'm sure you remember a time when you changed your mind on something. It may have taken awhile. You talked to other people, read some articles/books, and changed your opinion. But it all started because you started to doubt what you originally believed.

I don't remember the technical term for it. That psych class was 2 years ago. But if you talk to someone LISTEN. Then try and sow seeds of doubt. Bring their argument to the extreme continuation. "So, no Transgender people in sports? Okay, then we should do hormone tests on all Cis athletes. If testosterone is too high, then they can't play the sport. In fact, testosterone and estrogen should be in certain levels for maximum fairness. Etc." There is a Psych Today article that explains this better than I can in this spur of the moment rant. (I'm sorry, I've never linked anything in a Tumblr post beforel)

https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/communications-that-matter/202401/how-to-change-someones-mind-according-to-neuroscience%3famp

The US election may be done. But that doesn't mean we can't start change. Start with your family, aquitances. This ripple effect can spread as they talk to other people who may also start to doubt their views.

Please do not give up! If you're looking for a "What next" take this as a sign. We can be the change! I don't care if that's too optimistic. Hope, although frail is hard to kill. And sometimes all we need is a little hope.

[namfinessed]

and...cut! - p.jm.

genre: fluff, very mild angst (13.6k)

summary: the last time you saw jimin, you were pathetically deep in a one-sided love while he wasn't even at the shallow edge, that was when you were on the stage, dancing and acting together for hundreds to see. now, you are grown, you like to think you're cool but when jimin comes back to your life, you are just as pathetically deep, once again, in a one-sided love.

masterlist masterpost

you were breathless when the lights cut out, the crowd immediately broke into loud applause and your teammates gathered around you to congratulate you but as good as all of it felt, your eyes searched for him, desperately, more desperately than you would ever admit to anyone else.

and when you finally caught him, he was leaving the stage, he didn’t turn back like you hoped he would, he didn’t congratulate you like you hoped he would and you swallowed your tears.

but it was okay.

it was going to be okay.

you would see him in class in a few days and everything would fall into place.

for now, you grab the friends around you and squeeze them, hoping everyone mistakes your tears for happy ones.

-

you like to think that you’re cool.

you didn’t cry when you broke up with your first boyfriend, you didn’t crawl back to him and never begged anyone for a second chance. you set a ten-minute timer to cry for your second boyfriend and when he called you right after breaking up with you to ask how you were feeling, you told him you were reading a book and cut the call.

so, yes, you are cool.

maybe a little too cool because now, you’ve been single for two years and your friends take more offense to that fact than you do.

“we are just worried babe, you don’t seem to like anyone,” mia whispered with her hands in her boyfriend’s hands, as if it was some big secret.

“you don’t have to be,” you gulp down your drink, ignoring all the looks your friends and their boyfriends give you.

they didn’t have to be, you were perfectly fine the way you were.

you were totally okay with sitting at the end of the table with an empty seat next to you, you were okay with listening to your friends be all romantic with their boyfriends, you were okay with everyone.

sure, sometimes you wish you had someone to call at night and talk nonsense with, and yes, it would be nice to have someone you can call yours and someone who would sit next to you as if any other place was unacceptable.

but those were all things you could adjust with, all things you have grown to get used to.

“but seriously, you don’t like a single person we set you up with, i know you have commitment issues but i don’t think you’re even trying,” megan, who you could always count on to give you a reality check, spoke up with you guessed it, her boyfriend’s arms around her.

next to her, faye pursed her lips and turned away from the conversation to say something to her boyfriend, you were at least grateful that she didn’t add to the advice.

“you were single till two months ago, don’t act like you’re some love guru,” you bite back and the whole table falls silent and you hate it.

you hate that you have to sit here and listen to them advising you as they’ve figured it all out.

you hate that you look bitter as fuck right now.

you hate that, just because you don’t have a partner, everyone thinks you’re miserable and lonely.

you hate that you probably are miserable and lonely.

“okay, let’s look at the menu, what does everyone want?” mia chimes in, the mom of the group, the problem fixer where glaringly you are the problem at this table, and everyone is gracious enough to follow suit, and check the menus.

except you.

“i think i’m going to leave actually, i feel pretty tired,” you pick up your bag and immediately everyone starts protesting, “you know i didn’t mean it in that way,” megan grabs your hand with softer eyes and you nod, “i didn’t either, i’ll meet you guys another time.”

and just like that, you’re not mad at her anymore.

“please stay, it’s been so long since we’ve met like this,” faye whispers next and you want to scream that it could’ve been just you and the girls, that you hated their boyfriends coming as extended versions of themselves but she did stay quiet, she didn’t encourage your friends shitting on you so you sit back down.

“sorry, i’m late,” your ears pick up on a new voice and you instinctively look up.

you almost kill yourself on the spot.

“hey guys, this is jimin, my friend, i hope it’s okay if he joins us,” noah, megan’s boyfriend gets up and hugs his friend who very gladly returns the hug and nods at everyone at the table as they introduce themselves.

but you already, unfortunately, know jimin.

just not from here, or from any recent period in your life but from a buried piece of school history.

and when he gets to you, you mumble your name and immediately look back at the menu.

what was he doing here?

did he recognize you?

you hope the fuck not because there wouldn’t be a bigger embarrassment than him remembering that he rejected you even before you could ever ask him out.

but when he sits next to you, you stiffen up, mutter out some dish’s name, and pretend to be very interested in the shape of your plate.

why did he smell so good?

“oh yeah, i think she went to the same school,” you hear faye’s voice and immediately, your hands clench on your lap.

“really?” and his voice isn’t familiar or unfamiliar, you know it’s been years, and voices, sounds, and faces change but jimin’s voice always had a certain warmth that no one else seemed to have.

and he still had it.

he carried that warmth everywhere.

especially in his eyes, which were looking right at you when you lifted your head up.

“i’m sorry?” you clear your throat and faye answers, “he’s from your school,” and you make a ‘is that so?’ face and quietly nod along.

“which year did you graduate in?” jimin speaks from your left, you swear he’s recognized you already when he leans into your figure, and god, if that didn’t make you want to shoot yourself.

“2015,” you say and then grab your wine glass, keeping it close to your mouth so that you don’t have to speak.

“oh same!”

you fucking know!

he is delighted of course and the smile on his face still makes your face red.

and that knowledge only twists your guts further.

“that’s great,” you dare to glance briefly to nod at him and then turn back to everyone else.

“okay.” he purses his lips and looks away.

fuck.

you were being rude.

it didn’t seem like anyone really minded cause they continued with their conversations but you and jimin were now deathly silent.

you had to fix this.

you can’t have him hate you in the present too.

“i know you,” is apparently the best you can do and you want to smack yourself when he raises his eyebrows at you because, from a supposed stranger, that was creepy and mildly horrifying to hear.

“oh?”

“yeah, you were in the cinderella play in school, the prince,” and it was out.

now you have to hold your breath and see if he laughs in your face.

“i was,” and then he cranes his neck to look at you.

really look at you.

you wait.

you know he’s going to hate you when he figures it out, you know that you’re going to kill yourself at this table.

but he keeps looking, eyebrows narrowing and dropping, eyes scanning your every feature, and you know he’s putting his earlier pieces together, that it’s finally clicking for him.

his smile disappears.

his eyes lose all warmth.

you can tell the second that it clicks for him.

“you were cinderella.”

you can’t hide, you can’t look away, you can’t run, all you can do is meet his cold and sharp gaze.

and nod.

he looks away, puts his head down, and lets out the heaviest sigh.

you try not to reach for the knife on the table.

-

the rest of the dinner was…awkward.

so painfully awkward.

once in a while, the conversation would turn to you both and you would force yourself to say a few words before going mute whereas jimin enjoyed the conversations only to fall mute whenever you spoke.

it was embarrassing, the hot kind of embarrassment that paralyzed your entire body, every movement you made felt unnatural and forced, every time your hand moved, jimin would jerk away and towards the end, you just folded your hands on your lap and refused to be mobile.

if anyone noticed anything, they didn’t say a word.

“we should still get a few more drinks,” megan insists outside the restaurant and you twist your entire face at her, “what?” she shrugs her shoulders and you look away, panic rising in your throat.

two hours beside jimin was torture enough.

any more and you would probably combust.

“actually, i agree,” jimin steps away from his conversation with noah and for a split second, you catch him looking at you but you turn away, though the split second still leaves your knees shaking.

“i would love to host you guys at my place if everyone is comfortable,” he offers graciously, a smile reaching his eyes, warmth so bright and inviting on his face but you know that the invitation didn’t extend to you.

and the same way you fell head over heels for him, you see everyone around you falling for him, their eyes soften, they all nod at him and start cheering at the long night ahead of them and you, well, you just want to go home, knock a few teeth out and escape from the country with a fake passport.

but everyone turns to you, your silence is a bit too loud in their chaos and you stammer as all of their faces pick up in anticipation.

“i’m gonna turn in for the night, you guys go ahead, have fun!” you raise your fists in cheer, cringe internally at yourself, swallow that shame, and start waving goodbye and turning around to leave.

and you were truly so close.

so, so close.

your cab was booked, the night was done and you exhaled in relief.

until you hear steps coming towards you, “come, it will be fun,” jimin’s voice was still new, a sound that almost knocked you over and you shifted on your feet, “you don’t want me there.”

“did i tell you that?”

“you don’t need to, jimin,” you hate how breathless you sound when you say his name.

jimin tilts his head at you, eyebrows furrowing again and you want to duck and crawl away from his sight, “i would lov-“

and your cab pulls up.

you clear your throat, “thanks for inviting me, but i have to go, goodnight,” and you step away towards your cab, not waiting for his response.

as your cab pulls away, you avert your eyes away from the pavement where he stands, eyebrows furrowed still, and eyes following the tires of the cab.

you take a deep breath in.

you would never see your first crush again.

and that was probably for the best.

-

sixth grade was life-changing for you.

it was the first time you realized you could feel so much for one person, even if you never intended it to happen that way.

you didn’t even know someone called jimin existed in school until he walked into your practice room, with a head full of thick, soft hair, with this smile that had you frowning, with this walk so confident which was uncommon in guys your age.

everyone was busy being cool, everyone was busy being something they were not but jimin was always just him.

when your drama teacher announced him as the prince in your drama, you nodded and looked away, passing him the script later and walking away.

liking jimin was never part of the plan, liking jimin wasn’t something you ever saw as a possibility, you always thought his personality was too much, too loud, and that he was a little too naïve and a little too bubbly.

but soon, he became your prince, as if every terrible cliché in the world had to come true, he became everything you would ever want in someone.

-

days passed, you watched the photos on your friend’s instagram from the night that you never ended up staying for, and you felt a jolt of joy every time jimin was in their pictures.

he still looked fucking gorgeous, he still smiled with his entire face, and he was still tall and moved with a confidence that guys, even at your age now, usually lacked.

it was a shame that he hated you.

you sighed, put your phone down, and waited for your nephew to burst out of his preschool class. as an aunt, you were constantly on babysitter duties, those duties included picking and dropping him places, taking him out to the park, attending parent-teacher meetings if your sister was too busy like she was today.

it was exhausting at times but your nephew was your baby too.

speaking of your baby, sunoo runs out the door full-speed, eyes darting everywhere before they land on you, you’ll always remember his smile as he heads straight towards you, your heart always picks up and immediately your arms are open to him.

“hey baby,” you mumble into his hair and he giggles, holding onto you tightly and you stand up, with him still koala wrapped around you.

when you look down again, a little girl is staring up at both of you with large eyes and you are immediately concerned.

where are her parents?

why is she alone?

“bubba, do you know your friend here?” you ask sunoo, who, to your relief, nods aggressively and signals to be put down.

and as soon as his feet are on the ground, he hands you his bag to hold her hand and your eyebrows jump up your forehead. sunoo was a very shy kid, he didn’t talk much to kids in the class, and his world was only your family.

so, when they both smile at each other with half their teeth still growing, your heart warms and you bend down to their height, “hello sunoo’s friend, can i know your name?” you hold out your hand and the girl shyly reaches out to take it, “arin,” she whispers before putting her hand back in sunoo’s and you giggle at the sight.

they were adorable.

“is it your first day here, arin?” you don’t remember seeing her and she nods, “this is my new school.”

“ah okay, sunoo, do you want to head inside for the meeting? arin can come in as well, yeah?” you look at them and hold out your hands to each of them which they happily take and you almost collapse when you turn around.

“you’ve got to be kidding me.”

jimin stood, a few feet away from you, with a pink backpack held loosely in his hands and your face immediately dropped.

this can’t be real.

this cannot be your tuesday morning.

this cannot be your life at all.

“what are you doing here?”

“what are you doing here?” you stare at him pointedly with your arms across your chest and he rolls his eyes, “that’s my niece next to you, she started here today,” and at that, you bend a little to see arin’s face and surely, the resemblance was there.

full cheeks.

and warm eyes.

god loved to punish you.

“oh.” and arin smiles at you, you smile back a little hesitantly and turn to see jimin who’s eyebrows have furrowed deeper than ever.

“yeah,” he looks exasperated at your presence and you try not to get hurt over it, “this is my nephew, by the way,” you point to sunoo, not knowing what else to do or say, and he waves at jimin with a toothy smile and like magic, jimin’s entire face melts into the most beautiful smile.

oh, fuck him.

he starts walking over and you clutch sunoo’s bag tightly, watching as his feet fall one after the other, watching as he completely avoids looking at you when he bends down to ruffle sunoo’s hair and press a kiss to arin’s head.

you hate when men are nice to kids, it makes it so much harder to despise them.

“oh, sunoo’s aunt! i didn’t know you came with your boyfriend,” you freeze at the sound of sunoo’s teacher coming from the hallway and jimin freezes too as she starts quickly walking over to you.

marjorie was an older woman who loved sunoo and you, she was the only teacher you trusted completely and she was also a bit chatty.

this was a live nightmare.

“he’s so handsome, good for you,” she slaps her hand on your arm while gushing at jimin and you, once again, wish to change your identity and immigrate to some unknown island.

“we’re not-“

“that’s not-“

and you both pause to glare at each other with pure venom in your eyes.

he may have been your first crush but he was insufferable and you didn’t need someone else to think that you were together with him and his horrid personality.

jimin probably thought you were enjoying this, people mistaking you to be a couple, just like in school, but he was so wrong, he wasn’t nearly as cute as he was in school.

marjorie clears her throat and stares at you with anticipation, you hate to break her bubble but, “i don’t know who he is marjorie, i think he’s related to your new student here,” you point to arin and she starts looking between the both of you in confusion and jimin extends his hand to her, “i’m arin’s uncle, i’m here for her parent-teacher meeting.”

she nods with a smile, taking his hand graciously, “oh that’s lovely, arin’s mom did say her uncle was coming today, come in, come in, you too, sunoo’s aunt,” and starts walking ahead of the both of you into the classrooms.

you and jimin follow her in, you watch as he takes in the school and the classrooms and smiles at the artwork made by the children all over the walls, you look away with an irritated scowl.

why did he pretend to be some children-loving, kind jesus when he was absolutely vile to you?

“by the way, you two look so good together, it’s a shame you’re not a couple,” marjorie smiles at the two of you and you both nod stiffly at her which seems to delight her as she walks into a room.

you and jimin glare at each other one last time before following her in.

-

sunoo is still holding arin’s hand as you and jimin awkwardly follow the two of them outside the school, the parent-teacher meeting was done, thankfully, only two other teachers assumed you were a couple but was that really a win?

“okay sunoo, why don’t you say bye to your friend and we can go home?” you step forward from the slow, uncomfortable pace set by you and jimin, sunoo pouts and tightens his hand around arin’s which makes you frown, and look at jimin who was also observing the scene in front of them.

“but arin,” he starts tearing up, his face scrunching up and your panic rises, “it’s okay baby, you’ll see her in class tomorrow and every day after,” you try to calm him down, “it’s saturday tomorrow,” he whimpers and you wince, “well, it’s only two days bub, i’m sure arin wants to go home too,” and arin starts pouting too, “no.”

wow, she looked even more like jimin when she pouted.

you look at jimin again helplessly and he also seems to be panicking, at least you weren’t alone.

“sunoo, arin,” he bent down, “you two are in the same class, you will see each other again soon, for now, everyone should go home after class,” jimin’s tone was strict but still soft enough not to trigger any tears but just when you think he’s a better guardian than you, arin huffs and throws her bag on the floor, “no!”

you almost join the bag to laugh on the floor at the shock in jimin’s face.

“she never does this,” jimin says with his mouth still wide open as he gets up and you raise your eyebrows, “i think she gets it from you, the drama of it all, it’s cute, don’t worry,” and he glares at you.

“kids, for today, we have to go home, another day, i’m sure we can do something,” you try to appease them and jimin scoffs next to you, making you narrow your eyes.

“wouldn’t you love that?” your mouth falls open as his eyes roll back in irritation.

the fucking gall this man has.

“shut the fu-“

your colorful words are interrupted by sunoo and arin, who are so in sync already, that they begin their sniffing and subsequent loud cries together.

you immediately shut up to meet jimin’s eyes in horror as both of you see the kids melt into a puddle of tears before you.

“okay, okay! what do you want?” jimin is the first to give in and you want to smack him on the head, you should never give in to kids, that was the rule, you should always wait for their meltdown to finish and then bribe them with something less than what they want.

“seriously?” you give him a dirty look.

“i hate to see her cry,” he whispers to you and if it were anyone else, you would gush, to be honest, you were gushing, but you were also hiding it really well.

“playdate!” it’s like they never cried at all, children were truly magical.

you stare at jimin, waiting for him to respond because if you guys agreed to the playdate, you were also agreeing to spend the next few hours together.

and you didn’t want to be the one to agree to that, it was bad enough that he thought you were getting a kick out of meeting him like this.

he finally lifts his head to look at you, you shrug at him with your heart beating thunderously against your chest, you almost place your hand on it to calm it down but it only gets louder when jimin smiles at you, “sure, that would be fun.”

-

“yay!” sunoo and arin burst into jimin’s house, throwing their shoes and bags at the doorstep to wander off into the house and you are left with jimin, who just like you, would rather be anywhere else.

“thanks for hosting, we’ll do it next time,” you mumble while shrugging your coat off and he smirks, “if you want to see me again, you can just say that.”

you throw your coat on his face and stomp into the house, letting go of any politeness or manners that you would usually have and his giggles float into the air around you, making you scowl.

if he wanted to behave like a pig, he would be treated like one.

“i meant it though, sunoo doesn’t talk to anyone so it was nice to see him bond with arin, but i won’t be the one hosting it, it would be my sister, so no one’s dying to see you, settle down,” you sit down on the sofa, keeping your back straight and legs neatly crossed over the other, and scanned the house that you’ve only seen on instagram till now.

it was a nice house, cosy and bright and definitely expensive.

“arin doesn’t usually talk to anyone either so works for both of us.”

“but what if i wanted to see you?” he joins you on the couch and you roll your eyes, “can you stop with that nonsense?”

“it’s not nonsense, just a question,” jimin shrugs, “tea or coffee?” and you’re appalled at his skills of diverting a conversation, “green tea, if you have it, thanks,” and he laughs, walking into the kitchen, “you know, you don’t have to be so formal with me, we know each other,” and you squirm in your seat.

“i know you’d prefer it if we didn’t,” and jimin pops his head out of the kitchen, “what makes you think that?”

“seriously?”

was he dumb or were you overthinking this?

you get up and walk over to the kitchen where jimin stands, in the simple t-shirt and jeans under his coat, and he looks unjustly attractive in that bland outfit.

“did you forget school or something?” you ask again and he shakes his head, handing you a mug of steaming green tea, “i haven’t forgotten anything, i’m very sharp in case you didn’t notice already,” and you have to let out a groan at his tone.

“i know you hate me, jimin, you don’t have to sugarcoat anything just because we’re older now,” you take a sip, appreciating the light sweetness in the green tea, “did you add honey?”

“nope, cinnamon and i don’t hate you, where the fuck did you get that?” he looks at you as if you’re insane, as if you’ve imagined the times he ignored you in school, as if you’ve imagined him smiling at everyone but you during drama practice, as if you’ve imagined him leaving the stage without even looking at you.

was this what people called ‘gaslighting’?

“um you were an asshole to me and an absolute angel to everyone else,” you try to sound cool and casual about the whole thing but you were dying a little inside about having to have this conversation.

“when?”

“always.”

“no, but when exactly?”

“are you really going to make me say it?” you raise your eyebrows at him, there was absolutely no way that he didn’t know that he was your first crush and that he hated being liked by you.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” and you force yourself to smile because if you didn’t, you might just throw the mug in your hands, onto his face.

“you look weird,” he frowns at you and you purse your lips, trying to keep your calm, “i really have no idea why you think i hate you, then or now.”

and you were done.

“during play practice! you smiled at everyone, talked to everyone, played along with everyone, talked to them even after the play finished but never to me! are you happy now that i’ve said it?” you push the mug away from you on the counter and fold your arms across your chest, looking away to some corner in the kitchen.

if there was a feeling more dreadful than shame, you were feeling it right now.

how embarrassing that you still remember every single detail about him, how your adolescent mind never really let him go, how your crush on him was so clear, so true that it never left you.

“y/n,” he calls out and your heart is in your throat.

his voice, even as a kid, was so soft, he always spoke so well, he always spoke as if the opposite person was the most interesting person in the world but somehow, that tone never came when he talked to you.

“can you look at me?”

“no.”

“no?” he laughs out, palms coming up to cover his smiling face and for a moment, you’re starstruck again, you can only stare at his smile that held the world’s love and warmth, from your periphery though.

“okay, don’t look at me but i never hated you-“ and just as you’re leaning into listen to jimin, loud stomps break the moment and you’re both turning to see who’s coming.

it’s sunoo.

and he’s crying.

“baby, what happened?” you get up from your seat to sit on your knees in front of sunoo, “home!” is all he says and you frown, “that’s no way to talk in a home that has invited us, sunoo,” you weren’t as strict as his mom but kids needed to be disciplined from time to time.

“it’s okay,” jimin sits beside you, “what happened, big guy?” he coos at sunoo who instantly falls into jimin’s arms and you’re left baffled, this wasn’t like sunoo at all, he never touched anyone until he liked them.

this was dangerous.

“arin’s not giving me her toys, i want to play too,” sunoo says between hiccups and whines and you straighten beside jimin, “those are arin’s toys sunoo, you should ask someone before you use their stuff, you know this,” and he falls silent.

“but arin should also share, right? she should know that too,” jimin rubs his palms on sunoo’s back who nods furiously, “i asked!”

“okay, let’s call arin and we can sort this out?” jimin suggests but sunoo shakes his head, “home,” he says again but with exhaustion instead of anger.

oh, the trials and tribulations of a 5-year-old.

and you know that once he’s tired, he won’t listen to a word, “i think we’ll head home, he’s tired so,” you scoop sunoo up in your arms and he immediately curls into your shoulder.

“i’m sorry,” jimin sighs and you let out a laugh, “they’re 5-year-olds’s jimin, it’s no one’s fault, and we’ll arrange something for them at mine or my sister’s, okay?” you don’t know why you’re trying to console him but it came automatically.

at the door, jimin casually wraps your coat around you, being careful to not disturb sunoo who was already dozing off, and you walk to your car with your hands and heart full.

“let’s talk sometime, yeah?” jimin says from next to you and you narrow your eyes, “why?”

“god,” he throws his head back with a delighted look on his face, “i just want to talk, jeez,” and you nod reluctantly.

“here,” he opens the door for you to put sunoo in carefully, you could’ve done it yourself but you didn’t mind the help.

“thanks…for today, it was nice of you,” you look at jimin and he nods with a teasing smile, “i can be very nice,” and you roll your eyes, closing the door and effectively creating a barrier between you two.

and you can finally breathe.

while you pull away, you feel your heart thud and thud and thud again.

seeing him with sunoo and spending so much time alone with him did a number on you, you’ll have to write down why you hate him to make sure that no lingering feelings surface but as you leave, he smiles at you through your side view mirror and you’re not sure you ever stood a chance.

-

it only took you a few seconds to understand what you felt, that it was against everything you had believed until then.

it was the first time you were so close to a guy, his hands were a little above your waist, your hands were on his shoulders, and his face was (so) close to yours.

you were practicing for the ballroom scene and when you looked at his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks, you felt your stomach drop with the realization that you liked him, this guy that seemed so ordinary some minutes ago, became something magical, something beyond you and your heart.

“come closer, you two,” your drama teacher shouted over the music and you mindlessly shuffled forward and jimin moved with you, hands tightening on you by instinct and your breath hitched.

you danced weakly, still reeling with the consciousness of liking him and he looked like he did any other day.

later that day, everyone left the practice room except you and jimin, you waited for him to look at you at least once, say anything, you would’ve hung onto any word but he scurried out of the room just as you opened your mouth to tell him what you felt.

“jimin, can we talk? i think i lik-” and he was out of the door.

as if he could sense what was coming next and wanted to avoid it.

and since then, you never brought back the courage to tell him anything.

you had to make peace with that, your buried feelings in your heart had to stay buried.

and you coped with that until the day of the actual play, until he looked like he wanted to say something too, right when the ballroom scene started.

but then, he didn’t turn back on the stage, and you were left warm from his touch, cold from his absence, hurt from his steps away from you, and hopeful from how he looked at you in the eye while you danced.

-

“are you sure that it’s the same guy?” your sister’s voice came from your phone’s speaker and you sighed, “unfortunately, yes, he is,” and she laughed an evil laugh that told you how much she loved this situation.

“this is golden, you used to be so obsessed with him,” she gasped, you were sure her mind was playing the whole reel of you gushing about jimin, “that was a long time ago, give it up.” you groaned and scrolled mindlessly through your instagram.

jimin had sent you a follow request after you left his house a couple of days ago, you almost fell from the bed when you saw it pop up on your screen but what was more embarrassing was the speed with which you accepted the request and sent one back.

“oh my god, i just remembered how you would go for that weekly school exercise thing just to see him! you used to bend forward, backward, to see him a few lines away, this is amazing, this is amazing!” she sang from your phone and you winced at that memory.

it was true, you only went to the weekly drill to see jimin, a quick glance of his face used to make you unexplainably happy.

but with your fingers scrolling through his posts now, you guessed that some things just don’t change.

jimin would probably be doing the same thing, no one sends an instagram request without the intent to stalk that person’s profile, right?

but maybe he has a life and you don’t.

sigh.

“can you send me a picture of what he looks like right now? also, what is sunoo doing?” she asks and you frown, “sunoo is sleeping and why do you need his picture?”

“i just want to see,” and she starts rambling about how she deserves it as your sister, you tune it out, getting up to answer the door when the bell rings.

“it’s just so crazy to me that he’s back in your life, like imagine meeting your first crush in your nephew’s school? i bet it’s only yo-“ but you’re not listening to her at all anymore because at the other side of the door, are jimin with arin, who have both now heard your embarrassing older sister.

“anyway, send me a picture after you’re finished stalki-“ and you cut the call.

“hello.” you clear your throat, and he waves his hand while arin beams at you.

“oh wait, please come in,” you open your door wider, watching with wide eyes as they both step in and take in your home, you are suddenly too conscious about your pajamas and hair.

you weren’t expecting visitors.

what is he even doing here?

just as you’re about to ask jimin, he turns to you with a guilty look which consists of sad, puppy eyes and a slight pout.

arin truly gets it from her uncle.

how is that look not turning you off?

you know for a fact that the same exact look on another man would have just pissed you off.

“sorry to come so suddenly, you mentioned where you lived in one of our messages and arin was killing me all morning about wanting to see sunoo, and i tried to calm her down, i really did but you know how it gets,” jimin rambles on and on, and you nod along, only half distracted by his long coat and ruffled hair.

he must have come in a rush too.

and yes, you were texting each other and no, it’s very casual and friendly talk only.

“i thought they were fighting?” you ask and signal jimin to follow you into the kitchen where you put on a pot of water to boil.

how did he look like he belonged in your space when he was in it for all of two minutes?

“i thought so too,” jimin laughs and you smile at the sound of his laughter, you loved it then, and you love it now, someone should shoot you to snap you out of whatever magic spell jimin has cast on you.

“arin baby, what do you like?” you turn to her and she shakes her head, “you’re not going to ask me?” jimin raises his arms up in question and you hum, “you take what i give you, park jimin,” and he’s laughing again.

wow, you must be some extraordinary comedian.

“sunoo is sleeping right now but i’m sure he would love to see you guys, i’ll just be right back with him,” you place a cup of green tea in front of jimin and start heading out of the room.

“honey?” you hear as you’re leaving, “nope, cinnamon,” you reply, ignoring the shiver up your spine from how he called out honey.

after a lot of struggle with sunoo’s blanket and begging him, he was finally out of the room and standing in front of arin with his arms crossed, you and jimin watched with interest as they stared at each other.

“what do you think they will do?”

“fight?” you offer and jimin rolls his eyes at you, “they’re kids,” and you shrug, “kids are very good at fighting.”

and your eyes snap back to them when arin hugs sunoo over his crossed arms, you and jimin look at each other with your hearts melting as sunoo tries to resist but soon, gives up and wraps his arms around her.

“they’re so cute,” he whispers, and you nod with your hand over your heart.

sunoo and arin then take off to the living room where his toys are laid out and they’re lost in their own world within the next five minutes.

you and jimin sit in the kitchen, sipping your tea and looking at each other, only to return to sipping your tea, words lost in your tongues and throats.

“was that your sister on the phone?” and you ignore it, staring at the cup of tea with much focus and interest, “hey, she was, wasn’t she?” his voice gets more teasing, more light, more carefree and you hate that it makes you smile, you hate that your cheeks still flush in his presence.

“i won’t tell anyone or will i?” he winks at you when you finally look up and you groan, slamming your face into the table and he giggles next to you, uncontrollably.

“i’m going to kill myself,” you mumble into the table and he brings his hand forward to push your face away from the table and…towards him, his face and you almost fall off a chair once again because of him.

“don’t worry, i stalked you too.”

-

it was scary, how quickly you could come to terms with the fact that you liked jimin again, how quickly your heart accepted him even if ages passed and even if you’ve both changed.

“why do you even like him?” this was a question that your friends had asked you then, a question that your sister asked you then, and a question you often asked yourself.

it was simple to you.

jimin was different.

softer than other men but stronger too.

more delicate but also more protective.

he could make you blush and burst into laughter, in all of two seconds.

he was always like that, even when kids back then were trying to be cool and tough, jimin carried a bright, easy smile with care for the people around him. even if it didn’t always extend to you, it was still there.

but you think that might have changed.

“and you’re sure you are free to pick sunoo up?” your sister asks and you nod happily, “absolutely, don’t worry, i got him,” and she thanks you before cutting the call.

and now, you’re standing in front of his school in a better outfit than you normally would wear, you’re giddy with sweaty palms and flushed cheeks, but you don’t hate this.

“looks like someone’s all dressed up,” you don’t stop yourself from grinning at jimin’s voice from a few feet away.

fine, maybe you’ve been picking sunoo up a lot more these days but that’s just you being the best aunt in the world.

“unlike you, people like putting an effort into their outfits and personal style,” but you’re lying straight out of your teeth, jimin had a very good sense of style but he didn’t need to know that and besides, when he laughs and bumps your shoulder with his, your heart lights up.

so, this is what park jimin is to everyone else.

this is what everyone else felt when they were next to him.

how did all of them not fall in love with him?

you couldn’t have been the only one.

you don’t think you’ve ever felt this sure of something in your life.

you like chocolates, but not in milkshakes or when they are dark.

you like reading books, but sometimes you get into a slump.

you like romantic comedies, but sometimes, you find them cringeworthy and unrealistic.

you like jimin.

but….nothing, you just liked him.

“should we go get ice cream after this?” you turn to see him and he raises his eyebrows so, you quickly backtrack, “sunoo keeps asking for it and arin would like it too,” and he nods at it, you nod fiercely with him.

what your nephew wants, he gets, of course.

“i didn’t ask for ice cream,” is the first thing that flies out of sunoo’s mouth when you tell him about it, you are frozen with your knees bent as jimin stifles a burst of laughter behind his palms and you know if you turn around, you might as well bury yourself six feet under.

“sunoo,” you warn-whisper and he just tilts his head at you, you drop your head, there is no point in blaming your nephew for this, you’ve done this to yourself.

you grab sunoo’s hand and speed-walk to your car without looking back, with red cheeks and shaky palms.

the universe seems to be hell-bent on making sure that you embarrass yourself in front of park jimin for the rest of your life.

“hey hey, where are you going?” jimin pulls you back with his hand around your elbow and you purse your lips, “did you not hear my nephew out me?”

he throws his head back in laughter, “i did but don’t be silly, let’s go,” and you frown, “go where?”

“for ice cream,” and you’re lost again, he’s tutting at you, “if you want ice cream, we’re getting ice cream,” and looks down at you with a grin that has you holding your smile back, “okay.”

at the ice cream store, jimin hovers around you, asks you your favorites, asks you if you like desserts, asks if you like movies or tv shows, and you answer each question with increasing fondness towards him.

god, you must love attention.

“you were so intimidating in school,” and your jaw dropped, “no, i wasn’t! if anything, you were intimidating,” and jimin shook his head, “no way, how was i intimidating? i talked to everyone.”

you wipe ice cream from the corners of sunoo’s mouth as you speak, “that was intimidating to me because i didn’t talk to too many people,” and jimin nods, “and for me, you were intimidating, i could talk to literally anyone and everyone but you.”

“but why?”

“why?” he looks up in question and you pause for a second, not knowing if you should continue the sentence, “but why was i intimidating? why couldn’t you talk to me?”

because i would’ve given everything to talk to you, stays deep in your throat.

jimin sits back in his seat, pondering for a few seconds and you almost take it back, you almost tell him to forget it but then he opens his mouth, “you were intimidating because you were always good at what you did,” and your eyes widen by their own accord, you had never heard that from anyone except your drama teacher.

“i don’t know if you remember but i was so lost in the beginning, i didn’t know anything about acting but you set this example that i could follow and it was easier for me, you were constantly checking on me too,” he laughs amusedly, as if that time was playing behind his eyes and you crack a smile too, though your heart just got warmer and warmer until it felt like it was catching on fire.

“you were good at it too, jimin, especially the dance,” he was taken for his dance skills first and he was bloody good at it, “i know, i was amazing,” and you’re throwing a tissue paper at him.

“but i wanted to talk to you,” he nods as he speaks and you can’t help it, “because you knew that i liked you?”

he stops himself from grinning, “that was the biggest shock of my teenage life, y/n,” and you roll your eyes, “i know, it’s hard for me to believe too,” he groans and slides into his seat, making you giggle.

“did you…really like me?” his voice is soft, unguarded, and he throws one arm over his eyes, you notice his cheeks are red too and you shift in your seat, the mood was shifting, you didn’t want to giggle and deny it like you probably would have if he asked that even some ten seconds ago.

“i did,” and he removes his arm, and stares at you unsuredly, as if he doesn’t believe you and you clench your hands on your lap to hold back from saying anything else.

“home!” a chorus from the kids you’ve forgotten about brings you back to life, a life where it wasn’t just you and jimin in it.

jimin smiles, “how about a refill?” and as they cheer out loud, he looks at you, and you know that look.

he had something to say.

-

you both got scolded by your respective siblings for giving their kids extra ice creams but it also meant that the kids loved you more, you and jimin had giggled about it on text.

it was a win-win for you.

but what was even more of a win-win was that jimin purposefully got them extra ice cream to spend more time with you, you are about 90% sure that’s the reason.

you spent about half the day in that ice cream parlour, and jimin asked you questions that no one else ever has and you asked him all those things you never got to when you were in school.

it was terrifying, to talk to him like that, to give him parts of what made you, you, and it was especially terrifying when you gave all of it away so easily.

“so, you’re coming to pick him up, right? like this isn’t an extra task for you?” jimin’s voice through a phone was different, lower, more serious, you loved it.

“definitely, don’t even worry about it, i’ll pick her up and bring her over,” you didn’t know what it said that he trusted you with his niece but it had to be something good, it made you feel fantastic.

“thank you so much, seriously, i owe you one,” and you can sense the relief in his tone, “you do owe me one, yes,” he laughs at your tone, “you get here, i’ll make it up to you very well.”

on the whole way there, you are so giddy that you can’t stop smiling.

you never understood why people got so excited over phone calls but if it was up to you, you would’ve never even cut the call with jimin.

when you get to the school, sunoo and arin are holding each other’s hands and standing obediently next to margaret.

“hi kids, today auntie is going to take you both home, are we excited?” sunoo and arin raise their hands up in joy and you resist the urge to pick them both up and give them one nice hug.

“her uncle called and said you would be picking her up,” margaret smiles at you knowingly and you roll your eyes, “it’s nothing like that margaret, we’re good friends,” and she scoffs at you but it only makes you giddier.

it felt good that someone, besides you, liked the idea of you two together.

you: picked them up, on my way over!

jimin: thanks again, see you soon <3

you almost throw your phone out of the window in happiness but for the sake of the kids, for them to think you’re not some insane person, you just grin and put your phone aside.

“okay arin, let’s go to your uncle’s place,” after checking them, you fasten your seatbelt and they both cheer again.

oh, you love these kids.

as you pull away, they instantly start rambling about their day, which picture they were made to draw, which teacher annoyed them, which toy was stolen, which color pencil they lost and you nod intently, offering dramatic reactions wherever you could.

“and then mummy told me that i had to throw away some toys but can you talk to mummy? i like my toys,” sunoo whines to you and you sigh, “you got it buddy, i’ll deal with your mother.”

“so arin, what have you been upto? anything exciting?” and she lights up, “i drew a castle today, do you want to see?”

“of course baby, as soon as we’re home, i absolutely have to see it,” your agreement only makes her happier, “our new home is nice, i like it, mummy and daddy made my room pink, and i even have a close friend!”

“is that so? who’s this lucky person?”

“it’s miss ana, uncle jimi’s girlfriend! she’s always over at uncle’s home and she likes me, i like her too.” and she goes back to swinging her legs and poking at sunoo until he laughs.

in the front seat, you are frozen and confused.

“your uncle has a girlfriend?” you try to sound casual and you hate that you’re asking a kid about this but you couldn’t help it.

“yeah.” she shrugs and goes back to sunoo.

you felt your stomach turn.

of course, he has a girlfriend.

of course, you had read it all wrong.

of course, you are the idiot again.

you kept your eyes steady on the road as the feeling of nothingness settled into you.

you would get over this, you got over jimin once, you could do it again and next time, you wouldn’t make the stupid mistake of thinking that anyone could ever like you for anything more than what you present them. you’ve gotten over first boyfriends, situationships, and dates which felt like they would lead somewhere and you would get over this too.

it was weird that you could still feel the same embarrassment of liking jimin, the same pathetic feeling you get when you overestimate yourself and what people feel about you, rises and falls in your chest.

but it was okay.

you’ll get over this.

-

“oh jimin! jimin!” you turned your face away from classmates who yelled his name.

somehow, the cat was out of the bag and everyone knew about your crush on him, your bets were on one of your play’s cast members but you couldn’t point a finger at anyone. your school was small and boring enough for this kind of stuff to spread quickly.

it was true, you did like him, a lot but you never wanted anyone to know, you only wanted him to know.

you were hoping to catch him alone, tell him that you liked him, and accept whichever response he gave you, he didn’t have to like you back but now, he knew, you knew that he knew, it was just not in the way you ever wanted him to know.

and then one day it happened.

the quiet rejection.

the annoyance of being liked by someone you don’t like back.

“look, look! they’re together” you were in the hallway, talking to your friends and jimin was just a few feet away, your friends were subtly pushing you toward him while you pushed back and his friends were pushing him.

that itself was embarrassing enough.

then, your back hit his back and you froze, skin tingling already but he immediately pushed away, and you heard him yell at his friends.

“how many times have i told you guys not to bring her up? how many?” jimin was a gentle guy, that was the first time he had yelled at someone and it was because of you.

and since then, whenever you were in the same room, he would look away with an irritated sigh, he would leave the room or he would glare at his friends until they shut up.

you took it all in, you really did, you just reasoned to yourself that you too, would be very annoyed if your friends acted like that.

but one day, you were alone in your art classroom, arranging some portraits and he walked in, your eyes met his and you were both too aware of how empty your surroundings were, for the first time in a really long time.

he immediately stepped back, his footsteps landed heavily as he walked away.

no one was there.

no one to make fun of him, no one to see or hear.

but he still pretended that you didn’t exist.

your feelings were more tender then.

your heart was a bit too soft and you had taken that as his reply, his response, his rejection and you buried your crush.

your chest was tight the entire day, you couldn’t speak without choking up because as much as you accepted his rejection, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

he never uttered a word to you since then.

you vowed to yourself never to like anyone too much again.

-

“how was school, guys? i missed you,” jimin hugged arin and sunoo as soon as they entered his home and you stood near the door frame with your heart in your throat.

today wouldn’t have been so hard if you didn’t have to see him.

they leave his arms and run into the house, their bags and socks left behind and you quickly collect sunoo’s stuff to put them aside.

“hey,” he appears beside you and you nod, keeping your eyes away from his face.

“i missed you too,” and you wish that you didn’t give in to seeing his face because as soon as you turn to face him, you are in front of his warm eyes and smile, the ones you were so jealous others could see.

but whatever feeling tried to creep on you, you shoved it away.

you nod again, swallowing and the warm scene fades and it’s replaced with a stiff awkwardness that both of you feel in a flash.

you see it go away, the warmth, the smile, the eyes, all of it drops and you hate that you feel terrible even if you didn’t do anything.

“arin made a castle drawing, it’s in her bag,” you say and jimin frowns before shaking his head, “of course, i’ll see it later.”

and your head bobs once again, the only response you could produce at the moment and when jimin steps forward, you step back.

“hey, is everything okay?” he asks, fingers reaching to scratch the nape of his neck confusedly, “yeah, everything’s fine.”

this time, he’s the one nodding and pushing his hands into his pockets, “i’ll make you tea, come on,” you have no choice but to follow him in, though you stay at least five steps behind him.

any touch from him would break your resolve, you couldn’t afford that, not anymore.

“honey or cinnamon?”

“honey.”

“alright,” jimin frowns once again, turning away to boil some water.

and you sit there, wondering if this is all you could ever be with him, wondering if both of you were always destined to be close and far, you feel scalded by the fact that he had never mentioned a girlfriend, you hadn’t asked but he shouldn’t have been texting you the way he was.

“you know, i owe you one,” he turns with a mug of steaming green tea and you stiffen in your seat when he hands it to you with a small, unsure smile, “would you accept dinner as me making it up to you?”

twenty minutes ago, you would’ve jumped up, spilling hot tea everywhere, and closed around him, your arms and heart giving even more way for him, but that was twenty minutes ago, now your arms and heart were closing in on themselves.

him rejecting you in school, you could handle.

him hating your presence, you could handle.

but this, you could only handle for about five minutes before you crumbled.

you should’ve never let your young feelings grow and stay.

“don’t worry about it, you don’t have to do anything, it was just one pickup,” you shrug, playing with the handle of your mug and you see jimin visibly deflate.

“okay, i don’t know what’s going on, is everything okay? did i do something?” the pleading in his tone was there, the sincerity in his face was there but you couldn’t believe any of it.

“nothing happened, jimin, it’s just that you don’t have to make up for anything,” you couldn’t bring yourself to confront his betrayal, to ask him about his girlfriend, you know that any answer would just hurt you more.

“fine, i don’t want to make up for anything, i want to take you out on a date, a proper date without anyone else around, because,” and he pauses, you release the breath caught in your chest, grateful and disappointed that he didn’t finish his sentence.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea,” you give a weak smile, feeling your bones tighten in your body, you would snap like a bowstring if this continued.

jimin looks away, chest rising and falling slowly, he squeezes his eyes shut and you see his hands shake as he whispers, “why?”

“sunoo is sleep!” arin’s yell makes you get up immediately, the distraction was welcome and needed, “also, see this!” she shoves her drawing into your hands and you smile at the messy green castle.

“it’s beautiful, arin, just like you,” you tap her nose and she giggles, you are all too aware of jimin’s stare on your back so, you pat her head and rush to take sunoo out of her bed and into your arms.

you held your nephew tighter to you, his sleeping form was the only thing keeping you stable, you never realized before how much you needed him the way he needed you but today, you needed him most even if he was just sleeping in your arms.

you don’t say bye to jimin on your way out, you only hug arin, ask her to take care, and leave his home with your mind so heavy that you feel like you could tip and fall over.

but as you pull away, you catch jimin in your side mirrors, he stands as if he’s lost everything, you almost turn back, break down in his arms, and ask him why he was so cruel to you, but you drive away instead.

-

“and you’re sure that he won’t be there?” you ask megan for the third time over the phone and she sighs, “listen, it’s his friend, i can’t tell him not to invite his friend but i did tell him that something happened, the rest is truly up to him,” and you bite your lip in annoyance.

it’s been two weeks, you’ve successfully avoided jimin at sunoo’s school, you’ve ignored his calls and deleted his texts without reading them, and you were only one more week away from mentally cutting him off completely.

but again, the universe hated you and noah’s birthday came up right as you were starting to forget that a person named jimin existed.

“you’re right, i’m sorry for being difficult and i’ll be there, noah is sort of my friend too,” you give in, you couldn’t be a bitch to your friends just because you were going through something, and megan hums, “but just know that i won’t judge you at all for not showing up, it’s totally your call.”

you thank her and close your eyes as the call goes dead on the other end.

what a fucking mess.

-

“happy birthday to you!” you sing with everyone else as noah shyly stands in the center with the birthday candles lighting up his face.

it was nice to see your friends again, you melted into every hug they gave you as you walked into noah’s home, you almost teared up at how much you needed them, you were annoyed with all of them just weeks ago but now, you saw clearly that you needed people who cared about you in your life.

“how are you feeling now?” faye put her head on your shoulder as you sat on the couch and you hum, “i’ve been better babe but i’ll be fine soon, i promise,” you squeeze her hand and she purses her lips, “i don’t think he will come, you know, it’s already been a while since the party started, everyone will leave in an hour or so,” and you know that she’s trying to make you feel better.

“thank you for saying that but even if he does come, it’s okay, it’s not like i’ll see him after this,” you shrug and she nods unsurely, “but it’s also okay if you feel shitty that he’s here, you know? you don’t have to pretend that you’re fine with all of it, it’s not a great situation, he lied to you and you’re hurt, you’re allowed to be hurt.”

you blink back tears as you try to rush some air into your lungs that tighten with each word from her.

“i love you, faye.” you whisper, “i love you more,” she smiles and pats you on the back before getting up, “now i’m going to get us some drinks so you stay there in that emotional mood,” you laugh at her and shoo her away.

maybe you weren’t fine now, you won’t need to be for a while but you’ll be okay at some point.

you sigh, you don’t want to be here anymore and pretty much everyone’s given you the green light to leave, you can always have drinks with faye another time so, you get up, surer than ever that you don’t want to be okay anymore, you kiss your friend’s goodbye, you thank noah for inviting you and you step out to the cold night.

right near your car, just as you feel relieved and light, you hear it.

“y/n?” and then quick footsteps.

a presence behind you.

his voice in your ears and bones.

and you freeze.

you hold the key to your car and your legs feel so heavy, they might as well be dead, and you blink, you do nothing but blink until he’s in front of you.

you almost cry at the sight of his face.

“you’re leaving?” jimin huffs out, his breath leaving white clouds in the night and you just stare.

how could someone so beautiful lie to you?

you only come back to earth when you feel him scanning your face and body, as if he was re-remembering what you looked like, as if he was savoring you in front of him but you knew it was all deceitful.

and you lose it.

“don’t you feel ashamed?” you breathe out, feeling every nerve in you tighten impossibly, your body was once again a bowstring being pulled, in front of him.

tight and so breakable.

jimin’s entire face falls, “about what, y/n? why haven’t you been answering my texts and calls? why are you suddenly ignoring me? what is going on? i tried to come up with so many reasons but none of them made sense, i thought we were heading towards something good?” and his face looks so pained, so sad that you almost break.

almost.

“i should’ve never fucking liked you in school, i should’ve never given you that ego boost, i should’ve seen you for who you are,” you angrily spit out as you fumble with your keys and open your car.

without looking at him even once, you climb in, leaning back once you are in.

but immediately, as you begin to start the engine, another door opens and jimin is in your car.

jimin is in your car.

“what the fuck are you doing? get out!” you yell at him, and he shakes his head, “i’m not going anywhere until you explain to me what is going on.”

“i don’t have to explain shit to you, get out jimin, or i swear to god,” you huff out, feeling your hands shake from the rage you felt, he doesn’t move an inch, “or what?”

“seriously?”

“yeah, if i don’t get out, what will you do?”

“i’ll fucking crash this car.” you level your glare on him and he sits back, “do it.”

“what?”

“do it, crash it, i’ll pay for the repairs, but i’m not getting out until you tell me why you hate me right now.” the calmness he had at that moment, the level in his tone never wavering, pissed you off even more.

“fine, we can sit here all night,” you shrug, desperate to match his cool, you switch off the engine, “fine by me,” jimin shrugs back and you clench your teeth to not groan at him.

minutes pass, you tap your foot against the floor of the car, he looks out the window, and both of you sit stubbornly without making a move.

you should be furious.

you should be still trying to kick him out.

but you slowly start to deflate, your anger fades bit by bit as the feeling of missing him, liking him even now, begins blooming in you again.

“who is ana?” you whisper, not trying to hide how sad just mentioning her name made you.

whatever his answer was, you would move on.

you never liked him for him to like you back, not then and not now, but it felt good to believe that somewhere, he felt the same desperate, pathetic love that you did, that somewhere, he was different with you the way you were different with him, that he too lost his cool and common sense when it came to you.

“what?” he frowns and you sigh, “please don’t lie to me jimin, just tell me who she is and why you never told me that she was your girlfriend.” you choke back the sobs building in your throat, and jimin immediately leans towards you, “hey, hey, what girlfriend are you talking about? i don’t have a girlfriend.”

you laugh bitterly through your tears, “so, you’re calling your baby niece a liar?”

“arin? what did she say?” he continues to frown, seemingly growing more confused by every passing second, which only makes you more confused, “that ana is your girlfriend? she’s always at your place?”

“ana? oh!” and jimin throws his head back on the seat, eyes closing in what you thought was relief, “ana is her new babysitter, y/n,” you huff out in annoyance, “believe it or not jimin but i’m not as stupid as you think i am, how fucking convenient is it that a woman your niece calls your girlfriend, turns out to be her sitter.”

and he gapes at you before throwing his arms up, “i’m sorry that the truth is convenient and fits with the situation!” he yells back at you and you glare at him, “oh really? then why is she over when you’re there with arin already? why does arin think she’s your girlfriend? do you have an explanation for any of that?”

“i do, but only if you’re willing to at least hear me out,” and jimin is back to calm, back to zen, and you want to push him out of the car, “see, i know it sounds bad if she just mentioned the girlfriend part but i’ve told you, arin is shy, she never talks to anyone, she doesn’t like sitters, she takes a lot of time to get used to strangers so i’m a buffer until she gets used to ana so, that ana can just babysit her at my brother’s place instead of mine.”

you narrow your eyes at him as you process his words. unfortunately, it made a lot of sense, sunoo was the same, that is why you always babysat him.

“okay, then why call her your girlfriend?”

“because she thinks friends if they’re girls are girlfriends,” he sighs out and you purse your lips, that also made sense, especially with kids as young as sunoo and arin.

“i see.” you whisper back, not knowing how to feel about all this, it made sense, you should be over the moon, falling into his arms, telling him that you feel everything again, that you like him again but you freeze instead.

you were so ready to move on.

you were so ready to never see him again.

and you were so ready to never know his response, to never know what he felt.

but you are here, in front of him, as he waited for you to speak with anxious eyes and you only felt overwhelmed.

“okay.”

“okay?”

“thanks for explaining, if you get off, i will go now,” you keep your eyes on the road ahead of you, refusing to look at him even through your periphery.

“seriously? do you need time or is something else wrong?” you hear the pleading in his tone, the desperation, you wonder if you ever sounded like that to him.

“nothing’s wrong, i’m glad you explained, and now, i’d like to go home,” this always happened, whenever your emotions got too much, whenever it seemed like everything would fall on your head and crush you, you slipped into robot mode, where you refused to feel anything, where you refused to be human, where your feelings were nothing but dust in the air.

it’s how you never went back to a boyfriend, how you never begged anyone for anything and it kept you protected.

“why are you doing this?” but god, the crack in his voice might just break your resolve.

“doing what, jimin? i just want to go home,” you try to reason and he huffs in annoyance, “that’s not what this is, you aren’t even looking at me.”

and you pause.

take a deep breath.

look at him.

and the warmth you missed for all your teenage life, lights you up, beyond his frown, his gathering tears, his clear sadness, his warmth peeked through and stared straight at you.

you knew you had to go, leave before you couldn’t but where will you go?

how many times will you turn your back on yourself?

how many chances do you have left with jimin?

and will he ever take those chances the way you will?

“you’ll never like me, jimin,” you start, unwilling but forcing yourself to pull through, he opens his mouth to protest and you cut him off, “you’ll never like me as much as i like you.”

and his mouth falls shut.

“and i’ll always know that, i’ll always know that you like me less than i like you, that you hated me at a time when i would’ve done anything for you, and by some miracle, it’s changed now, you might like me but never as much as i like you, my past of loving you as a kid, will always haunt me, and your rejection then will always hurt me,” you have tears dripping down your chin by the time you’ve finished and you know it will only pain you more if you look at him so, you stare at your lap.

you wait for him to get off, to go away, to finally understand why you two would never work out.

“so, please let’s leave this be, i’ll continue to bring sunoo around for arin, we can be civil for them but whatever this is, i can’t do it, not with you,” you whisper, hoping that it was loud enough for him to hear but he stays eerily still, staring into nothing and you wonder if he didn’t hear you.

“jimin, can you-“

“what about me?”

“now you’re just being childish,” your anger rises again.

“no, i never got the chance to explain my side at all, what if i like you more? what if i liked you way before you did?” your heart stops in your throat at his words but you shake it off, “this isn’t a competition, jimin!”

“fine, then this should just be a casual question, when did you start liking me? in school, when did it start?”

“seriously? what are you trying to prove here?” you turn to fully face him with a scowl.

“just tell me.” he sits just as rigid, just as fed up, and it only irritates you even more but your face goes red nonetheless at the memory, “ball room scene, dance practice.”

“i liked you when you gave me the script,” and you want to look away, ignore all of what he says but you only lean in further and he leans in too as if letting you in on a secret that no one else knows,  “i remember exactly how stomach-bottoming it felt, how scared i was because i thought you would never like me back.”

“really?” you’re leaning in even closer, so much more desperate to every other secret of his.

“really, and i’m not saying this because it’s a competition, i’m saying this because i couldn’t then, i didn’t have the courage, i liked you so much that the thought of you rejecting me, it would’ve killed me,” he laughs, both amused and horrified at the truth spilling out from his lips, but you see the fear too, the restrain in his breath, and it makes your own shoulders fall.

“then why did you act so annoyed whenever someone teased you?” you whisper again, embarrassed to ask the question because it made you feel like a kid again, the same kid who hid her feelings to make sure that he wasn’t inconvenienced by your heart.

he drops his head in quiet laughter, “imagine you like this person so much that your whole body fails you, and there’s some idiots making it even harder for me to look you in the eye,” he looks up at you as he says it and your spine weakens to fall on the seat behind you, every word of his puncturing itself into your heart.

jimin copied your movements and fell back too, sighing out, “i also knew how annoying it could be for you so i thought if i acted like that for a while, they would forget but fuck, they were persistent. honestly, i thought you would figure it out because of them.”

“figure out what?” you are breathless by the time the question escapes you.

“your crush was never one-sided, y/n, but mine was, at least for a little while.” you blush, not knowing what to do with your face anymore, you didn’t know if you were smiling or frozen or frowning but the numbness, the blind excitement left you gasping.

and jimin purses his lips, “i might’ve been this bright kid who talked to everyone then, but none of that helped me when it came to you, it was like every bit of confidence i had fell from me when i was around you and it was alarming, you know, it was so fucking scary to feel so different because of one person.”

and there it was.

the confirmation.

that he was different with you, that he too lost his head with you.

“what about later? when we met again?”

“oh that, i was trying to be cool, it didn’t work, right?” he winced and you couldn’t help the laugh bubbling out of you, “nope, not at all.” and jimin bangs his head against the headrest and you sit there, smiling.

it was strange, the elation and frustration you felt, it was strange to sit next to jimin and hear the words from him that you’ve waited for forever.

but you won’t hold that over him anymore and you were done burying your heart.

“i like you,” you say, twisting to face him and he smiles, not bothering to hide it, “a lot, jimin, i liked you then, i like you now, a lot and i’m scared.”

he leans forward to take one of your hands into his palms, you melt your fingers into his skin, and he speaks with a smile and with the world’s confidence and fear, “i like you, i’m sure that like is love too, it’s always been there and i’m scared too.”

“but i like you and i’ll continue to do that while i’m scared.” and any worry you had, flies out the window.

you feel brave.

you feel like you could fly and never see the ground again.

you stare at him for a minute or two, until his face is in your head like it’s your own face and you cross the barrier, in this case, the handbrake in your car to climb into his lap and you shiver when he buries his face into your neck.

you loved him when you didn’t know what it meant, and jimin loved you before he ever knew his heart could feel so much.

and that was enough for you to smile into his hair and wrap your arms tighter around his neck.

“i’ll do the same, jimin.”

-

jimin felt heavy with the love in his heart, with his arms on your waist, with his fingertips touching your skin, he felt overwhelmed, a bit crazy, and definitely scared out of his mind.

this was it.

the performance.

after today, you probably wouldn’t even look at him again, he’ll probably be just another guy who sees you walk down the hallway.

he knows when this funny feeling in his heart started, you had passed him the script and walked right past him to teach someone else how to do their scenes, and instantly he saw you, he saw nothing but you.

being the loser he was, he messed up any scene he could so that you could walk over, glare at him, and then, help him endlessly, help him until he was perfect (which he already was).

and he was alone in that pathetic-ness, alone in that feeling until one day, you looked at him as if he hung the stars in the sky and he didn’t know what to do with himself since that day.

but he had you in his arms, he had you in front of him, he had you in every moment of being on the stage and he knows he can’t just get off.

“and…cut!” jimin deflates, his arms that were so sure of holding you, weaken and fall from you.

then, the lights die and his confidence dies, and he feels ashamed of himself, so much so that he leaves the stage immediately.

he hears the cheers, the screams, the applause but none of that matters when the words he’s wanted to say die inside of him.

but he stops below the stage, looks up to see you hugging everyone on the stage, and hates himself a little but charges forward.

he would love you from afar.

but he would continue to love you.

[crow-caller]

I read a lot of YouTube comments, and I respond to a lot of them too. I don't know if this is... uncouth or whatever, but I do.

Sometimes, I get comments which are wrong. Sometimes they're abrasive. People who think trigger warnings are excessive, or that something I've called racist/ableist/antisemitic, Isn't. I do talk back to comments like this. And you know?

A Lot of the time, it works.

Most people who reply back consider what I say, and I've changed their minds. It's not that I'm some great writer, it's often that they are genuinely... confused.

A lot of people simply do not know Why trigger warnings matter, because their only context is mockery and extreme examples.

A lot of people don't know what institutional racism is. If you talk to people about things they don't understand, you won't have a scholarly debate— you'll have an argument where both sides thinks the other is an idiot. I had this recently.

I come at people with sympathy and then, gently, advise them. Do not talk to them like they're idiots or scum if you want to change anything. The above comment is saying "ableism isn't real", but what they unintentionally mean is "I don't know what ableism is so I don't think it's real." This is the case a lot of the time, because people's only context for what these terms mean is increasingly mockery, memes, and political ploys.

I was once a mod on the discord of a large gaming youtuber, a phenomenally half-toxic place— most regulars chill, most random lurkers posting the most atrocious memes and not getting why it was a problem. The head mod understood protecting lgbt+ people in the rules, but didn't Get nonbinary people — he was under the interpretation they were real, but the majority were attention seekers. He cited an account on tiktok, whose schtick was gathering and reacting to "blue hair pronouns" cringe. This was his only context beyond the moral instruction "our rules should protect lgbt+ people". He would have put that rule up either way, but only through discussing it did mods realize this was his opinion, and could explain why it was wrong.

I'm not advising everyone has to talk to everyone this way, I'm saying if you're going to engage, consider trying rather than venting.

[weaselle]

do you realize what a skill it is to take a written order as a table server?

Like, go ahead have a friend say four sentences and you write it at the same time they're saying it and see if you don't stand there SO UNCOMFORTABLY for a very long minute after they're done, scribbling and asking them to repeat parts.

Plus there has to be so much translation and organization, and just.

so basically every server comes up with their own shorthand, their own little code, altho some restaurants do have the servers all use the same shorthand code

And you have to rework your code every restaurant you work at.

So like, if you order a large caesar salad, with light dressing, and chicken on the side with no croutons? i'ma write:

SA L c no crt Lt/D chx s

but the last "s" is gonna have a circle around it like it's inside an "o" because that's how i write "on the side" and it makes it stand out so i don't forget or confuse it and i like the way it kind of looks like a birdseye view of a side of something in a ramekin, like a little pictogram :)

Starting every salad order with the notation for Salad and writing the SA large and making "on side" a symbol lets me scan the ticket for specific info easily, which is also why the slash is between the "light" and the "dressing" -- i usually put a slash for dressing, (like, ranch dressing would be r/D and no dressing would be no/D) because the slash and big D makes them easy to pick out of a block of text and i want to be able to see all the dressings at once clearly with a casual visual sweep when i am, for example, picking up my salads and checking to make sure the right dressings are with the right salads (which you always have to do because salads is more complicated than you'd think and you're likely to catch a wrong dressing several times a night if you check for them before letting your table find out they did it wrong).

Now any of how i write that order might change depending on things. For example one place i worked had a couple chicken salads and the kitchen did the chicken for them, so when you put the ticket in the computer it was helpful for them if you put the chicken instructions before anything else about the salad. I got used to putting it that way on my written ticket as i took the order to help me have an easy time at the computer while i worked there, and stopped doing it in that order when i left that restaurant. But the order is often about helping you tell the computer what to print in the kitchen.

Which you have to be fast at. Most restaurants only have like two or three terminals that servers can use to put in orders, and there's often like 8 servers all trying to use them. So you can't sit there and delete the salad order and re-enter it to put the chicken first and then try to remember how to do the other things you need to do on every order you have, because your coworkers will all be pissed at you, as their collective 15 tables wait extra time for you to get your shit together on the terminal and their tips dwindle down by the minute. You gotta be able to put an order into a terminal like it's about to explode if you don't do it fast enough and let the next server hop on it while you hurry to pour the drinks you're already late bringing out.

There is no time to like stand in line for it, either. If it's in use you go do one of the fifty other things you're already late for, and sometimes that means you go take anther order from a different table. That's dicey, because if you're not careful you'll have tables next to each other getting their food in the opposite order they sat, and that's never great. Or gods forbid the terminal is in use a few times in a row that you try to use it, you'll wind up at a terminal putting in 5 tables at once, which makes things hell on the kitchen staff and takes forever to punch in, all while other servers anxiously wait for you to be done hoping the same thing doesn't happen to them

And it's always some weird confusing choose-your-own-adventure system of menus and screens on there. Like, all the dressings and sauces and toppings might be on one screen and it's a different screen than the one that you punch in the salad on, so you have to flip between them to order salads or whatever. Shit like that ... plus you have to learn a new one every restaurant; this one may work with a series of drop down options, that one may use, like, clickable folder tags around the edges of the screen to go from options list to options list.

I worked this one pizza place where the server terminals were some OLD bullshit and the pizza toppings were just numbers. That you had to memorize. So you could punch them in without doing a where's waldo marathon with the toppings cheat sheet. There were 37 toppings. 41 when i stopped working there, altho to put in Feta wasn't a topping number you had to go to the salad menu and select "add fetta" from there.

I still remember a lot of the topping numbers. Like, if you ordered a large, extra cheese, salami, mushroom, pepperoni, olive and sausage pizza, it would be a

Lg xtr 1, 9, 8, 4, 7, 11

(that's the exact order the pizza guys will put them on the pizza btw, which helps them not miss a topping accidentally -- there's a logic to the order things go on a pizza, and if you write it all out of order it makes it real hard on the pizza makers to keep track of it while they're making it. I think some computer systems now auto-reorder toppings with they print them to the pizza section which is nice, but we used to try to do that for them as servers) I've used some of those numbers ever since. Cheese in particular permanently became "1" on my tickets, because i was already used to it and it's so much quicker than "chz" to write.

Of course the ticket layout is important -- I write the orders for the table as top to bottom = left to right. This means even if the person in the middle insists on ordering first, i write their order halfway down the space. Uh, i mean the top Line is for table number and number of people, and the the top Space is for drinks, and then the next forth of the ticket is for apps, and then the next space is for entrees, and then the last space is for any desserts, add ons, notes, or extras.

So if i say "shall we start with you" to my left but the person straight ahead of me orders their salad first anyway, i'm still writing their salad halfway down the "apps space" near the top of my ticket. Sometimes you have to bring your own note pad, in which case, depending on the vibe of the place, i often try to steal printer paper from the tiny little manager office crammed into some kitchen closet like every restaurant has, and cut their office paper into strips to use, because fuck making me buy my own paper to do this job.

Anyway, if you write your little code in the wrong order on the ticket, it makes it harder to punch it in the terminal quickly, so if I do get it in the wrong order, i do like a little swoopy line from it to the correct position. Say someone waits until everyone is done ordering and then says "oh can i have my chicken on the side of my salad" I have to write "chx os" at the end of the salad notation, but i would do a line like a big parenthesis on its back underneath the salad order, connecting "chx os" to the place i would have preferred to write it.

This way, after taking some dirty dishes from the dining room to the dish pit, checking with the kitchen about my other tables while i'm back there, pouring a drink order because other servers are using both terminals, and checking in with the salad section for a table that's getting impatient... when you're finally at a free terminal entering the order, these lines and you don't type the salad instructions in, get to the end, and have to delete it and type it back in with "chicken on the side" in the right place.

I actually don't know how many other servers use these sort of lines or item order, like i said, every server has to come up with their own code. Me, I draw lines to edit. This kind of thing makes my tickets often turn out with quite a few circles and lines and squiggles and stuff, which all indicate specific things But ideally not, ideally i get it written without all the extra drawing

So as a server, it's easiest to try make sure you can write everything down in the order you use at the computer so you wait til they say the whole thing. Or at least, because it is how your personal code works vs. all the ways people say the things they order, you often let the guest get the whole salad order out before you start to put it on your ticket.

And then you write it in your secret code while listening to their entree order. Which you might write in your little cypher while someone else is telling you their salad order. :)

However you do it, you have to do it all at the speed of speech, which is pretty damn fast.

Anyway, it's just a thing servers do, that i never really see talked about much. We all have our little codes we use to write your orders. And it takes a fair amount of skill.

[kimyoonmiauthor]

You could also simply join community garden initiatives in your area or set up one and see what you can do to make sure this doesn't happen to local food supplies. If you set up the community garden to allow a portion of free food outside of the plots that people rent, it can truly help your community and avoid the whole OMG spinach now has E. Coli.

My own Community Garden I participate in often has to throw way large swaths of edible materials and put it into composting because people don't know it exists and don't take from it. But we also have things like potlucks, etc.

For example, we threw away a large bit of rosemary into compost because no one wanted to take it. I cut down blackberry vines which were thornless and are entirely edible.

Sometimes donating to your community means that you help and as a side effect you might get something for yourself.

Even if you take from the community garden and are hopeless with gardening, often there are people to teach you or you can simply ask what you can donate such as seeds or other goods.

Instead of doom and gloom, find alt sources and get familiar.

I'm well aware winter is upon us, but I'm also saying there are community initiatives that grow food indoors as well, such as vertical gardens you can also help with. Sometimes helping yourself also helps people poorer than you.

Don't focus only on doom and gloom. Find solutions because those are in your power too. Spinach out of stock? Why not donate some seeds of spinach and other sources of food that often have these "infections"? Doing this will also help you not to be disconnected from your food eco system as much as you understand what is and isn't seasonal.

i’m actually scared that food safety is going to get so much worse. of course i expected that it would stay bad - since it’s been basically unchanged for the last four years. but now, we gotta worry that it’s going to get more privatized and lax all over again. people shouldn’t have to live in fear that their food could make them sick or kill them. people shouldn’t lose access to their main sources of food because of an illness outbreak.

[francesderwent]

it seems to me that our task—as Christians but also just as people who care about this country and don’t want to see it like this—is to step outside the us-versus-them, black and white thinking which elections love to encourage, and begin imagining our neighbors more generously and compassionately.

our politicians have spent the whole election cycle appealing to the very lowest common denominator—but that does not mean that when we picture our political rivals we must imagine the lowest common denominator. it does not mean that that lowest common denominator defines everyone who voted one way or another. the people who voted for the worst possible reasons do exist—people who feel genuine hate for those different from them, the crass and the vitriolic and the cruel, the power-hungry and the callous. these people are all real, and our politics has undoubtedly given them a voice. but again: I think we must challenge ourselves to hold in our minds a version of the “other” who is more human and more complicated than that. our principle should be built off of “innocent until proven guilty”—we should consider people as being politically thoughtful and well-meaning and conflicted, until we are beyond a doubt proven wrong.

the objection, at this point, would be the objection I’ve seen all over the internet: “okay, maybe people had better reasons in mind, but voting for a rapist wasn’t a dealbreaker for them.” and that’s a powerful bit of rhetoric. but, first of all, both sides were using the same arguments leading up to the election to dissuade people from voting third party or sitting the election out: “you’re not supposed to vote for somebody perfect, you’re supposed to vote for the lesser of two evils/the policies you most agree with/the party you think will most support your interests and the common good.” so it’s hypocritical to then turn around and accuse your political opponents of voting for someone who’s personally (understatement of the year) not perfect. and second of all, the notion of “maybe they didn’t like such-and-such policy or quality, but it wasn’t a dealbreaker” is actually exactly my point.

every voter has to weigh for him or herself which issues are going to be regarded as most important. as long as I’ve been alive, people have been pearl-clutchingly scandalized that others have weighed the issues differently than themselves, so the moral panic certainly is not new. but despite that, this is literally what our country is founded upon: there is no set-in-stone hierarchy of values. we all get to decide for ourselves what good is worth pursuing. note: I’m not saying this is a good thing; I think what we’re seeing now is precisely the problem with that system. but the point remains that you cannot insist on the importance of a democratic election and then be horrified that democracy will sometimes vote in favor of a good that you think is subordinate, to the exclusion of a good you think is foundational—that’s democracy for you! that’s the system! you might view it as despicably selfish and shallow to vote based on the price of eggs—but for someone who is very poor, that reasoning might appear far more serious than it does to you. what would be a dealbreaker for you might not be a dealbreaker for someone else.

everyone has to determine for himself or herself what the greatest possible good is which can be achieved by the federal government, and what the greatest evil is we should avoid. at the end of this determination, everyone ends up with his or her own little hierarchy of values. the horror of two-party politics is that unless your hierarchy lines up point by point with the platform of one of the main parties—and it almost certainly doesn’t!!—your vote will either not align with the hierarchy you believe to be right and just, or it will not have the power to put that hierarchy into practice in the real world. this is where imagining people generously and compassionately comes into play: perhaps someone’s first priority in casting a vote for the republicans was the price of eggs. now, instead of jumping to the conclusion that their second priority was expelling hated foreigners from the country or making it so gay couples lose visitation rights at the hospital, imagine that their second priority was something you agree with, something compassionately-motivated and understandable, maybe even something that wasn’t a part of the republican platform. now imagine what priorities they might have that weren’t presented as an option by either of the main parties—priorities they might share with you.

”but my morality is right!” you might say. “their priorities are misaligned and their hierarchy of values is wrong!” that may very well be true. but American democracy cannot recognize it, cannot give any more weight to the true worldview, because that would be taking sides. if you want a democratic system you have to accept the possibility that the correct and the popular might not line up. you might also say, “but they’re wrong about which policies are actually going to help them! the price of eggs won’t go down!” that might also be true. in that case, it’s sort of on the people with the good policies for failing to convince the voters.

you might feel aghast that other people weighed the things you disagree with them about as more important than the things you agree with them about. it’s an understandable feeling. but the crucial thing is twofold: one, unless you acknowledge their right to disagree with you—both in essential matters of morality and in matters of the relative importance of specific moral issues—you don’t actually believe in American democracy. and two, if we are to move forward we have to start acting as if the things on which we agree are more important to our humanity than the things on which we disagree. even if we voted based on the things we disagree on! when we interact with each other we have to focus on the things we agree on.

we have to believe that people are trying their best. we have to, when we engage in political discourse, engage with a hypothetical opponent who is not the easiest possible punching bag. and when we’re confronted with our genuine enemies—those who hate us and hate everything good—instead of dehumanizing them, we have to love them. I don’t end there as a little glittery good-feeling flourish to smooth over the difficulties, because that is the most difficult part. there is no version of this story where all the hurt and fear and division are erased simply by the “right people” winning elections. there is also no version of this story where all the hatred and sin and despair is solved by good people contentedly praying rosaries in little self-satisfied prayer groups. Our Lord reconciled the world to Himself not by the worldly power of conquest, and also not by kindliness and miracles and convincing people one by one to change their lives, but by His suffering and death. the reconciliation of our world will require our suffering, and our death to self. there is no other way out than through the radical love of the Cross—that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. He asks us to follow in His footsteps. imagining our neighbor as lovable is a good first step. loving him when he is not lovable is the next one, and the necessary one.

[hypnoneghoul]

I would love some endometriosis/pcos trans Dew content if you’re up for it 🖤🖤

Dewdrop hates his body.

Don’t get him wrong; he considers himself quite attractive, and does love his mortal vessels for some fun things it allows him to do, but sometimes…sometimes he wishes he could hop out of it and be incorporeal.

Today is one of these days.

His uterus is an absolutely vile thing, and when Rain asks him what’s wrong, Dewdrop spits out to get him a kitchen knife so he can cut the damn thing out of him himself.

Rain doesn’t deliver, of course, and asks the fire ghoul to glamor away his claws before he even thinks of helping him. “Endo flare, I assume?”

“Yes,” Dewdrop rumbles through gritted teeth. He’s curled up into a little ball with his arms around his middle and his temperature kicked up worryingly high. Rain won’t be able to touch him if he doesn’t lower it.

“I’m so sorry, droplet,” he sighs. He really is—he hates seeing Dewdrop in pain. “Is it Mountain’s tea level, Aether’s quintessence level, or infirmary level? What do you need?”

“To die,” he grumbles into his pillow.

“Not that,” Rain chuckles, “not allowed.”

“Then tea, I guess,” Dewdrop rolls over onto his other side to finally face Rain. He looks awful, but still he rolls his eyes at the water ghoul, “and cuddles. Might need Aether later.”

“Okay. I’m gonna grab the tea and you cool down in the meantime,” Rain orders before turning to the door. “I mean literally, or no cuddles.”

“You hate meee,” Dewdrop whines. The water ghoul scoffs and leaves to prepare the tea.

It’s not a normal tea—of course. It’s infused with both Mountain’s and Aether’s magic, making it one of the few things that can ease Dewdrop’s, or one of the ghoulettes’, period or endometriosis pain. Not always, though; sometimes the pain is just too much.

It doesn’t take long for Rain to make it and be on his way back—his water magic certainly is useful and can speed up the process. When he comes back to the fire ghoul’s room he notices Dewdrop hasn’t moved, but it seems it's not as hot in there as it was.

“My lord and savior,” he exclaims, opening his arms for Rain. Or rather the tea.

The water ghoul rolls his eyes at him before handing him the mug. He cringes when Dewdrop takes a gulp out of it right away—even though he knows very well it won’t burn him. He moans at the taste and the warmth spreading inside him as he drinks the beverage. It really is a brilliant thing.

“Feeling any better?” Rain asks when Dewdrop hands him the empty mug.

“A little,” the fire ghoul replies truthfully. He makes grabby hands at Rain. “Cuddles, now.”

“You’re such a baby,” the other laughs, but obliges, anyway. Rain crawls into the nest and curls around Dewdrop’s back, nuzzling his face into the back of the fire ghoul’s neck and putting his hands on top of Dewdrop’s own over his stomach. He needs the heat of his own hands there and Rain doesn’t want to interrupt that.

“Your huge ass is squishing my tail,” the fire ghoul grumbles.

“Oh? Sorry,” Rain giggles and lifts his hips to let Dewdrop wiggle the appendage out. He does, but doesn’t just lay it out between them; he prompts Rain’s own tail to wrap around it, tangling them together in affectionate matter. The water ghoul hums, “Cute.”

“Shut up,” Dewdrop spits back.

“I love you, too, droplet.”

[an-idyllic-novelist]

I’m Not Your Fiancée, Ranma [a ranma saotome with fem!reader mini series] part two

warnings: anime/manga spoilers, slight canon divergence, very mild Akane bashing.

Hey guys and welcome back to the second episode in this mini series! It’s been a wild ride writing for this classic anime, and so far the Netflix remake has delivered in laughs, drama, and slow-burn romantic tension!

Thank you all so much for supporting this content, I honestly wasn’t expecting so much positive feedback from everyone or to have requests to join the taglist! 😊 Shout-out to my dear friend @deathmetalunicorn1 who helped me figure out a unique and fun way to write out this part, a journal entry from the one and only Nabiki Tendo!

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and watch for that bucket of cold water! :3

Part One

Who would have thought that Ranma Saotome would actually stand up for himself and spout off a subtle confession of love towards my little sister? Now, my dear Confidante, you may think he finally said it to Akane, and that the constant drama in my house would finally quiet down and there would be some peace, the likes of which hasn't happened since the pigtailed boy and his father came knocking on our door last year. Alas, that is not the case, because Ranma declared in the dojo that he wanted to have my adorable little [First Name] be the person he was engaged to rather than tolerate my sister once more.

Not that I blame him, really.

As much as I love Akane and the huge wade of bills I can bring home from selling photos of her at school, she can be a violent maniac whenever jealousy rears its ugly head and makes a big deal out of everything. Seriously, and I thought she was already a handful with her constant declarations of hating men, though I partially blame Kuno for that one, even if he is one of my best clients. Let me continue before I get off track. As the old saying goes, “time is money.” Naturally, Daddy and Mr. Saotome did not take the proclamation very well. It wasn’t even a minute before they stomped into the dojo and started yelling at him.

“Ranma, how could you?!” Daddy wailed as crocodile tears streamed down his face. “I know you and Akane love each other, that’s why you must go through with this engagement!”

“Boy, do you even know what you know what you are saying?!” Mr. Saotome bellowed. “Akane is your fiancee! It is your duty to marry her and carry on the school!”

Ranma scowled. “Oh, really? Do ya think she can even teach a student without flyin’ off the handle? An’ ya don’t have to be good at martial arts to run this place, anyway!” His hands hung by his sides, clenching and unclenching into tight fists. That’s usually a sign when he’s trying to reign in his own anger. “I told ya before that I didn’t come all the way here just so you can marry me off, but ya didn’t listen! So for once in your miserable old life, let me get a say in who I want to spend the rest of my life with!” He then turned to Daddy. “Mr. Tendo, I don’t love Akane. I mean…I did, or I thought I did, but all she does is get mad at me for things I didn’t do and make me try her cooking! She thinks I’m goin’ behind her back with Ukyo an’ Shampoo when they’re the ones who come onto me! What the heck am I supposed to do in that situation, anyway?!”

You could have just told them off, Ranma. But it’s your vow as a martial artist to never strike a girl. That’s how you’ve always been. As for [First Name]? Well, she was still on the floor, in shock at what she heard for a bit until she stood up and stepped in front of Ranma, shielding him from Daddy as his battle aura oozed into the dojo, changing my sweet dear Daddy into a demon version of himself, large head with a forked tongue and all that jazz.

“Dad, enough.” [First Name] said firmly. “Ranma has done nothing wrong. Ever since he’s been here, you’ve always blamed him for Akane’s unhappiness. I’m not saying he isn’t completely innocent, because sometimes it is his fault. But if what he’s saying is true, then we need to respect his decision. Mr. Saotome, I know you want to keep your promise to your old friend, but this engagement is something he didn’t want. It’s not what Akane wanted either, but everyone pushed them together. You perceived their loud shouting as adorable and believed they were a lovely couple.” [First Name] scoffed. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Father. Back. Off.”

Imagine my surprise when my easygoing little sister exerted her own battle aura into the dojo, something that rarely happens unless she’s extremely angered. I can do it, and so can Kasumi, but it’s like with [First Name]. Only when we’re really furious and that’s fine with me. I’d rather put my energy into making more money. Daddy also found it surprising, as he quickly redirected the conversation back to the problem.

“B-but the schools, sweetie! We must unite the schools before Mr. Saotome and I pass on! You know, the only way to accomplish that is through a betrothal!” I almost gagged at the sound of his whiny voice. Good grief, how pathetic.

“An engagement, not a business negotiation between two old friends?” [First Name] countered. “Where one of us manages the school, and Ranma and some other teachers can coach the students? Have you ever entertained that possibility?”

“Are you questioning our judgement, girl?!” Mr. Saotome snarled.

“I’m questioning your sanity!”

Naturally, I intervened before things got too messy. I told them all to calm down, and offered a solution: it’s obvious that Ranma does not want to get back with Akane, and he has expressed an interest in [First Name]. I had no interest in taking up bridal duties again. I’m pretty sure Kasumi still doesn’t like younger men, and has expressed little interest in dating either, at least that I know of. So, why not switch the engagement from Akane, and have [First Name] be his new fiancee? We’ll see how things go, and no pressuring them to do anything they weren’t ready for unless Daddy and Mr. Saotome want this arrangement to not work out because of their meddling. But my little sister’s earlier proposition wasn’t bad either, if things didn’t work out between Ranma and [First Name]. No one really gets engaged in high school anymore, and there are other ways to manage a martial arts school that didn’t involve marriage. I guess the reason Daddy never considered that idea is that he really wants one of us to marry his best friend’s son and retire. Mr. Saotome probably just wants to live comfortably for the rest of his life, so typical of the lazy panda man.

So, that’s where it stands now. Ranma and [First Name] have been engaged for over a week, and nothing’s really changed between them. Well, it’s more like they are still adjusting to these changes. Ranma is still weary of her, thinking my dear little sister is being nice and then will start acting like Akane as soon as [First Name] sees something she doesn’t like. Tut, tut, silly Ranma. But I’ll let him figure that out on his own, unless he pays the exclusive 10,000 yen consultation fee I offer and give an honest opinion. And [First Name]? Well, she still treats Ranma with respect, helps him with his homework, and doesn’t cling to him like Shampoo or Ukyo. In fact, if she has a club meeting, she insists he go home without her and she’ll be fine walking home at night.

[First Name] is too kind for her own good. Kasumi knows it too. She chided Ranma in the kitchen one evening when he came home without [First Name], saying it’s not a good idea to let a girl walk home by herself even if she says she will be okay. Ranma had the decency to look a little ashamed before shuffling back to the room he shared with Mr. Saotome to apparently get some homework done. Will wonders ever cease to happen in this house, my dear Confidante?

How is Akane taking this change? Not very well. She keeps insisting [First Name] can do better than a pervert, and things will only get worse. I beg to differ.

I already see that things around the house are much calmer. There’s been no fighting, no tables thrown, or Ranma flying across the neighborhood with bumps on his head. He may think we do not notice as soon as dinner is over, but he helps [First Name] with clearing the table or washing the dishes. One morning, I even saw him in the kitchen, getting her lunch out of the fridge and setting it next to her school bag so she didn’t forget it and eat at the cafeteria again. I was sure I wasn’t imagining it, sleep and caffeine deprived.

Everything will be fine. I’m sure of it. I can only hope that Shampoo or the other girls don’t get any funny ideas yet. [First Name] has said nothing about the engagement at school, and Akane just harrumphs and says she’s happy to no longer be engaged to a pervert anymore.

I want to write more, but it seems there’s someone knocking at my door. That’s strange. I wasn’t expecting any clients today. Will be back.

Later -

Unbelievable. Ranma Saotome has just left and made me richer after a lengthy consultation about where he could take [First Name] for their first date this Sunday. Mr. Saotome has been upset that he’s been neglecting [First Name] and somehow misconstrued it as a challenge, both as a martial artist and as a man. Honestly, it amazes me how can these people even be my family. Good luck little sister, you will need it. 

Taglist: @djh4l0v3rv3r @silverklaus @alee24x @loverofyandereboys @akiqvq @the-dumber-scaramouche @stingywiththeirusername @mochinon-yah @gudaworks @danyzta

[peppered-moths]

strangler fig

cw: mildly dubious consent

That’s how little that reputation board meant.  Grian’s fingers curl around the flint and steel.  He lights sparks absently, watching as they char small holes into the already flimsy bridge he’s sitting on.  The moon rises, slow and languorous, washing the server in shades of pale gray.  He kicks his feet over the edge. 

It’s what he’s been wanting to say to Scar since… since.  Well, he’s said it now, and that’s all that really matters.  Grian shakes his head, clearing the thought from his mind.  Sparks jump as he drags the flint and steel together.  One lands on his hand, burning into his skin.  Grian winces, half-hearted.

“Careful,” a voice chides.  Danger flashes in his mind faster than he can think, and he’s already on his feet, whirling to point his sword towards the intruder.  

Scar grins back at him from the shadows, green eyes flashing.  “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”  He raises a hand, dotted with pale scars across the knuckles, as an example.

It takes a moment for Grian’s brain to catch up with everything.  He doesn’t lower his sword, even though his wrist aches and he knows the point is trembling.

“Like you’d care about me getting hurt,” he grits.  “Go away, Scar.  It’s the middle of the night.”  He can’t deal with this right now.

“What, I can’t make a friendly visit to my neighbors?”  Scar’s using that smooth, salesman’s voice, the one that always makes Grian wrinkle his nose.  He steps down from where he’s been sitting on the railing, not unlike a cat, and smiles even wider like he thinks Grian will fall for it.

“You have to schedule an appointment,” he tells Scar flatly, waving his hand in the direction of the top of the mountain.  “We’re not available.  Go home.”

“Aw, can’t you make an exception?”

“No,” Grian snaps, this time gesturing with the point of the sword.  Scar pouts, but moves closer anyways.

“Hey,” he says, “I mean it.  Leave.”  This should be the part where Scar goes.  Sometimes with head hanging, sometimes with tight, angry shoulders, sometimes with someone else, but he always listens.  Grian can count on him for that much.

Scar does not listen.  He tries to skirt the edge of Grian’s blade, but he turns the point back on him.  He’s seething now, and has half a mind to plunge the sword into Scar’s heart, green name be damned.

Still, he gets closer, until Grian’s sword is hovering above the fragile skin of his throat.  It’s too much, and he shuffles a half-step back, only for Scar to keep following, to deliberately press the underside of his chin into the sharp point.  A thin rivulet of blood, dark in the night, spills down Scar’s collarbone, soaks into the edges of his vest.  It makes Grian feel a little dizzy.

“What’s your game?” he hisses, like he’s the one in control of where the sword ends up.  “Or do you just have a death wish?”

Grian can deal with Scar on the other side of a blade.  He can hurt him on the other side of a blade.  Any closer, and he starts remembering bruised knuckles and blood at the corners of his mouth.  Any closer, and Grian starts wanting to touch him.  So he holds Scar at swordpoint.  Whatever mind game Scar thinks he’s playing, he won’t back down for a little blood.

He just smiles again, the scars on his face rippling silver, and Grian wants to scream.  He’s not sure why he doesn’t really; Mumbo and Skizz would be awake in seconds, and Grian wouldn’t have to deal with the danger that is Scar in the moonlight.

“What if,” Scar says slowly, “I said I was apologizing?”

“Then you can do it in the morning.  But you’re not here to apologize.”  That much is obvious by the way Scar continues to grin, like it’s all some massive joke.

It does stop him continuing to inch towards Grian, though, and he looks like he’s contemplating for a moment.

“You’re right.”

“Hn?”  He’s distracted by another bead of blood tracing the hollow of Scar’s throat.  Remembering what it’s like to wrap his fingers around it.

“I’m not here to apologize,” Scar tells him cheerily, and there’s something in his eyes that stops Grian short, struggling for something to say.  He places two gentle fingers on top of Grian’s sword, pushing it down, away from his neck.  Grian’s hands are shaking.  He offers no resistance.  Scar presses forwards.

“Stop,” Grian says.  He doesn’t beg.  He doesn’t.  “Stop.”

“But you don’t really want me to, do you.”  Scar takes another step closer, something intent in his eyes.  Grian moves backwards in tandem, until there’s nowhere else to go, just the two of them on an unsteady bridge, his heart pounding in his throat.

“I don’t think you really even care that I killed you,” he continues, and Grian presses his hands against the wooden railing, desperate for something to ground him.  He doesn’t know when he dropped his sword, only that it’s shimmering on the ground far away from him and far too close to Scar.

“I hate you,” he says.  “I hate you.”  It’s something not unlike a prayer, something that he wants to be true so very badly.

With a careless movement, Scar kicks the sword off the bridge.  He stares in dismay as he watches it hit the ground far below, then realizes too late he’s taken his eyes off Scar.

“I think I know exactly what you want.”  And then he’s too close, armorless and throat bared, blood still running, and Grian wants to kill him.  He wants to run away.  He’s pinned down by green eyes, too knowing.

“Don’t,” and it’s barely a shaky breath.  He can’t muster up the force to say anything else, to want anything else.  Scar leans close, intent as ever.  

Scar’s lips are still soft.  It feels awful.  Grian hates it, even as he returns the kiss, heartbeat staccato.  The wooden edge of the railing digs into the small of his back.  He’s never felt so trapped.  He presses his thumbs into the divot of Scar’s collarbone, settles his fingers around his neck, tries to feel in control.  It’s even worse that Scar lets him, humming against his mouth.  Grian doesn’t know why he’s doing this.  He doesn’t know why he’s letting Scar do this.

Scar tilts his head against Grian’s hands, brings his own down to settle on his waist.  It’s this touch, somehow, that jolts Grian out of whatever fugue he’s in.  He presses harder into Scar’s throat, forces him away from his lips.

“What the hell do you want, Scar,” he says, voice rough from kissing.  His mind still swims a little bit, but he’s aware enough to recognize the fact that Scar is trying to seduce him and desperate enough to want to fall for it.  He wonders, vaguely, if this is Scar’s way of convincing him not to hunt him down the moment he goes red.

Scar just swoops in again, even though Grian bites sharply at his bottom lip.  He doesn’t want this–not right now, not like this, not here, whatever it takes to make him go away and let Grian lick his wounds.  Scar’s fingers curl, near-possessive, into his waist.

When they finally come back up for air, Grian takes his chance and shoves Scar away from him, immediately moving a few steps away.  Scar’s hand goes to his throat, smeared with blood and already darkening fingerprint-shaped bruises.  Grian steadfastly ignores the way that makes him feel, the twist in his stomach and the nonexistent matching bruises on his knuckles.

“Go,” he says, trying to minimize the shaking of his voice.  “I don’t care what you want.  Just leave me alone.”  Scar opens his mouth.  Stops.  His lips are reddened, probably from when Grian bit him.  He doesn’t look like Grian thought he would, like the cat who got the cream.  He just looks a little lost, as if he’d expected something more.  Too bad for him.  Grian can admit to Scar being a damn good kisser, but he still remembers hitting the ground, the pain that still lingered in his jaw as it fractured.

“I– Grian–”

“I really don’t know what you’re not getting,” he spits.  Scar stares for one more second, eyes brilliant in silver etching.  And then he turns away.  Grian does his best not to watch him go.  He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and tastes a hint of coppery blood.  It makes him grit his teeth.

He can’t help remembering the way his hands fit around Scar’s throat as he starts the trek down to recover his sword.  Next time–there wouldn’t be a next time.  Grian had hated it, every moment of it and the way it made him feel.  The copper in the back of his mouth stings.

He’d show him.  He’d show him what it’s like to fill his mouth with blood, to get stabbed in the back.  What it was like to feel helpless. Next time, he thinks, staring at where Scar’s back had vanished.  Next time.