#It's almost worth playing in Chinese for that alone

[fragmentedblade]

"The person responded that it is true that Xianzhou people like large and strong pets, but there are also those who love petite and delicate ones. Now that he saw the sparkle in my eyes, he expected that I must be the latter"

[derww]

Hearts and their true value | Essay

ZAM: Something i've noticed is that people who are willing to stand up are the people that have been around longer. It's interesting. Its not like Jumper's that new anyway, like she's been around, she's, I feel like she's not really like... I don't know, understood the devaluing, or the lack of value that hearts have.

Okay, I wanna tell you a story.

[ENDGAME SPOILERS TO SKY:COTL | CW DEATH AND SUICIDE IN THE GAME CONCEPTS]

There is a game called Sky. This is a social game about human connections, and one of the important parts of the gameplay is wings. You get wings by grinding and lose them one by one when your health drops to zero.

From the very beginning, the wings are shown to you as a value: they accumulate as you explore the world, which is beautifully reflected by the star patterns on the cloaks, and, most importantly, they determine the degree of your ability to fly. and flying is the main mechanic of the game, you fly almost always. an unshakable and absolute value. This means that wings must be protected and saved, and this is the essence of the game!

But Sky is a cycle. The end of the cycle is death. and you are losing all your wings in the process. Invariant. And the game never warns you about it; it says that you can lose your wings, sure, but it's nothing in comparison with losing everything. And first time, it's very, very scary: me personally, stories about this place scared me bad enough that I finally got through it only after a week of constant playing. and in the end you're left with... nothing. You have only one wing. You have to start from the beginning. Was all this adventure, all these efforts, worth it?

Usually it takes several months for the players to get used to losing wings. Not only at the end of the cycle, gaining red candles and sometimes unlocking eternal wings or cosmetics, but generally. Leaving themselves in dangerous places, playing with the death, and... Protecting other people, especially new players, by bodyblocking the hits. because, despite the amount of wings being a reason to flex and the importance of being able to fly higher and longer and grinding being just straight up annoying, part of the Sky philosophy as i understand it is the idea that wings are not actually holding much value. 

Two years ago, I had a beautiful sky friend. She was Chinese, resembled an elegant and beautiful flower, and told me to call her 江妤 (Jiang Yu, "Like the Yangtze River,"  she had explained to me). Jiang Yu, in addition to all her wonderful personal qualities, was wingless.

In a normal situation, you can't stay wingless; you always have at least one wing. The whole game is based on the idea that you will fly, but there are many glitches that can temporarily make you wingless. However, here was only one way to stay wingless: from the moment the birth, you couldn't pick up a single wing and continued to avoid them for eternity.

It wasn't a planned way to play, but it was possible, and different people played that way for different reasons. Jiang Yu, having a very developed account on a Chinese server, explained to me that she wants to travel with her friends. "Lead me wherever you wish, and I will follow you,"  she said to me. She couldn't get to many places on the map alone, and even one drop of rain depersonalized her, and she needed someone to guide her. She was extremely dependent on others. 

But Jiang Yu, having no wings, being outside the existing equation, could not die. This was the catch of the wingless: having nothing, they were not afraid to lose something (except their own winglessness, but oh, well), and this made them invulnerable. For me, it was the true Sky experience of connecting with people around and trusting them.

Thinking about the philosophy of it in my walks with Jiang Yu, I came to a personal conclusion: Sky is a game where you are given value, given currency, demonstrated its importance and usefulness and irreplaceability, and then demonstrated that in fact it has no real value. And the wingless ones, even if not planned by the developers, are the apogee of this idea. It is—oh  well, let me give you the most banal quote: "It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything." Do you understand where I'm going and how it relates to Lifesteal?

I don't like to row everyone under the same comb, but to simplify, let's say: many of the new members are scared to die. Old members are generally not. They all have different understandings and positions, and someone has 20 hearts and someone has 4; it's a difference in mindsets.

And Jumper is still new. Especially taking into account that the big part of the s5 she was pretty much immortal with the infinite (not really, but) stash of hearts and that PB&J was kinda built on not understanding things.

Yeah, this is the Lifesteal, the server about killing people for hearts. But it hasn't been just that way for a very long time. The server is fucking alive and is constantly changing, but even before, cool stories were much more important than just not dying. "Reaching 20 hearts" without any twist is a very boring video. Wanna show how cool you are? Do something better.

There is not much interesting in being just passive. Yeah, Wemmbu is scary, but he is the villain; of course he is scary. Im not saying that they have to pick up a sword and fight, but I think Zam is right in that they just don't really understand yet. but its something we've talked about many times before – unspoken rules and conventions and all that. This can be attributed to the same place as the fact that members tend to play along with each other even if it's dangerous. Content is more important than hearts. At the end, you came here to play.

Part of the reason I love 3ht so much is that they embody it. They're constantly dying; they seem weak and worthless, but they're here, and they are doing atleast something. And Planet... Is Planet. Even to go edit, you first need to give a dramatic speech, change movement of the whole arc, and backflip into the void. Despite how important hearts are and that you should still care, it's good to understand that it does not actually matter that much. Yeah, it helps with how many crits you'll take before dying, but is it really the only important thing here?

Many months after our first meeting, Jiang Yu made a mistake and accidentally got her first wing. She was so sad, and I hugged her, and her wings looked like a beautiful cherry flower. I haven't seen her in a long time, but we still exchange gifts sometimes. I miss her. And even if we never see each other again, I appreciate the memories we've made together. And it's more valuable than anything else.

(And, at the end, its just a game. It can be very important; you can be very invested, but it is necessary to draw a line. In-game life may cost nothing, but your real life is infinitely valuable)

[jordie-gvf]

daddys girl, jake kiszka

fluffy dad!jake fic

warnings : fluff, language

word count

i want to preface this, in this fic, there will be a part when it talks about smoking weed at the age of 18. in the time frame, the legal smoking age was 18 not 21.

As soon as Harper was born, you knew she and her father were going to be attached at the hip. 

Her third birthday, he got her a mini piano, identical to Uncle Sammy’s. You would've thought the Gods above had crafted this gift with their higher power. She would not stop playing that piano.

Her thirteenth birthday, a phone. If you two had it your way, she wouldn't have a phone until she moved out. But “Mamma, all of my friends have phones! Why can't I get one too? I want one! Why do you guys have to be so mean!” Meanwhile, all you told her was she could get one for her birthday, which had been a month away.

Her first breakup. Jake had come home after being in the studio from nine in the morning to six at night. He had a plate of takeout chinese and a cold beer on the table. He looked for his girls, but all he heard was loud sobs and your calming voice. “He wasn't worth it, love. He was a douchebag, his car had a vanity plate, baby.” He heard his baby girl crying and his wife's soothing comments. “I know you loved him, but he was an asshole who only wanted one thing.”

Jake walked upstairs to his daughters bedroom and spoke softly. “If it makes you feel better, I really didn't like him.”

Both girls looked up and Harper got off her bed and ran immediately into her fathers arms, “Daddy!”

“Hi, my sweet girl.” He cradled her head and let her sob into his chest. He looked at you and saw you wiping tears off your face.

The new baby. “Mom! How could you not tell me you were pregnant!” She was elated to find out you were pregnant, let alone with her little brother. 

Once Hendrix came along, she had gotten a little more independent. You and Jake had caught her sneaking out and coming home at four in the morning quite a few times. After school one day, you both sat her down while Hendrix was asleep. “You know, we don't appreciate being lied to. We’ve heard you come home, every morning at four. This needs to stop, we don't know where you go or who you are with and you smell like weed, which is not good for your brother. We are very disappointed in you, Harper Kelly.” 

She looked teary eyed as Jake scolded her. Jake stood up and pointed to the direction of her room and he walked away to your shared bedroom. No sooner did he leave, she broke down. 

“I didn't mean to make you guys upset. I just wanted to be like everyone else.”

You grabbed her face and told her, “You don't need to be like everyone else. You're Harper Kelly Kiszka. Not Michaela, not Janie, not Rob, you're Harper.” You kissed her forehead and directed her to her bedroom. 

She went upstairs sulking, while you went to check on Jake. You leaned on the door frame and crossed your arms. “Why would she need to leave at one in the morning to go smoke. Doesn't she know that we do and once she turned of legal age we would've done it with her if she wanted to?”

You laughed and said, “I don't know, I never smoked with my parents and they were hippies, my brother's name is Street. And the first time I ever smoked was with you, at Whites Bar, on your 18th birthday.” 

“Was it really?” 

You nodded and moved next to him on the bed. “Jake, she needed a wake up call. She's failing all her classes and she has no desire to do anything.”

“Jesus, she's just like me in high school, sneaking out to make out with girls and smoke weed.”

“I was the only girl you were dating in high school, Jake.”

“Exactly. I can only imagine what prom is gonna be like.”

He spoke too soon. Prom night was tonight and you couldn't console Jake. You had been upstairs, teaching her how to use rollers for her hair while she did her makeup. Dress shopping had been a nightmare. You almost fought some broad at Windsor for the dress Harper wanted.

Once her girlfriend showed up, she came downstairs with her makeup all done with her corsage. Jake had been standing with Julie at the end of the stairs, hand on Julie's shoulder, tears welling in his eyes. Being the cliche mom you were, you had your phone recording the entire thing. 

She had fully made her way down the stairs and had given a small kiss to Julie. Jake pulled Harper into his arms and cradled her head, the same way he had done years prior. “Make smart choices, both of you. Julie, dont keep her out all night, okay? Before you ask, yes, you can stay the night.”

They had gone on their way and you and Jake saw them off, waving while Julie drove away. “I really hope no one brings alcohol,” he said, laughing.

“Remember what we did on prom night?”

“Yeah, snuck out and left to go to Waffle House with Josh and Ronnie. Ended up staying there until two in the morning. Karen was not happy.” 

“Yeah I bet, because my mom had my ass too.”

“I always wonder what would've happened if we never ran into each other, literally.” 

You were late for school, as per usual. You peeled out of the driveway and flew to the high school. You pulled into your parking space to see another car pulling into the space in front of you. You were going a little too fast around the corner and didn't see the tan minivan.

“Oh fuckin A! Dude, don't know where you're going, pay attention!” You screamed at him from the inside of your car. He looked at you and put his hand over his mouth. You grabbed your backpack and you both got out of your respected cars. “I am so sorry! I totally didn't see you. Let me call my mom.”

“I don't care about your mom, I'm late.”

“That car accident was totally my fault.”

“Yeah it was, baby. But we won't talk about it.”

[iinterstellaarr]

Dinners Served

spencer reid x reader

summary: even after living alone for almost a year, you still can’t help but make way too much food. not that Spencer’s complaining, he sure can use the company

an: i’m so hungry bro i saw this girl make a lasagna on ig reels and it looked buss

The sound of bubbling water and the low hum of some random song I had heard earlier today bounced off the walls of my rather empty apartment. The smell of fresh tomato sauce made my mouth water and I smiled warmly while I picked up my phone

foods almost done :)

Be over soon.

I smile slightly at the text and giggle to myself as I play some random song on my phone and dance in place. I didn’t even hear the door open nor did I see Spencer leaning against the wall, watching me sing and dance

“You know, it has been proven that dancing allows a persons mind to be free” He sits down at the island and places his head in his hands while he cheekily smirks

“Really? Did YOU know it’s rude to sneak up on people like that?” I lean against the counter top and fold my arms.

This has been our routine for the past year. It all started back when I first moved in.

———

Setting the final box on the floor, I stand and place my hands on my hips. God, how’d it get so late?

I flop down on the couch and call the number on the ad for cheap Chinese food, cuz lord knows i’m not about to whip up a whole meal. I tap around on my phone and practically squeal when I hear my doorbell ring.

I spread out all the food I ordered on the counter almost bursting with excitement

“Oh shit.. This is way too much food.” I groan slightly, it’s way too late to call any friends to come help, so I nervously peak out into the hall and glance at the door next to me. Eh, worth a shot

I knock on the door timidly and hear something, or someone fall over a few seconds later

“Coming!” A man yells out amidst the struggle behind the door and after a moment, the door swings open.

His hair is long and curly, with a pair of glasses on top of his head and a dark black shirt with a pair of loose sleep pants.

“Yes?” He takes his glasses from his mess of hair and places them on his face as he scans me

“Sorry for disturbing you so late, and you can totally say no since you don’t know me and I may very well be a murderer, but I accidentally ordered way too much food, and my fridge doesn’t work.” I mumbled slightly but mainly got the point across. I didn’t expect my neighbor too look like THAT. Much less expect him to be awake.

“Im Spencer, and you must be an angel because I haven’t eaten all day.” He steps out of his apartment and closes the door behind him, following me to my door while I giggle slightly

“No angel here. I’m Y/N”

———

“Hey, I can leave if you think i’m a creep” He starts to stand from his place at the island

“No! I was kidding” He snickers as I rush to grab him and sit him back down “I like your company..” I awkwardly add at the end

“I’m sure I would’ve starved by now if it weren’t for you.” His large hand lands on top of mine still wrapped around his forearm as he sits back down

We lock eyes, just for a moment. But I would’ve sworn that those large eyes glanced down at my lips, just slightly.

“Plus, foods ready!” I awkwardly add, pretty much ruining the moment

Way to go me.

I start to add a hefty amount of pasta to each plate and watch as Spencer adds an absurd amount of sauce and cheese to his own portion. I take my place next to him and practically cry while shoving a bite into my mouth

“Thank you, by the way..” He avoids eye contact while I tilt my head slightly

“For the food? Cuz that’s a thanks LONG overdue-“

“No…For all of this. For just being you, I guess. I’m glad I got to know you”

I smile slightly and wrap one arm around him, pulling him into a tight hug. His lanky arms find solace around my waist while he sighs comfortably

“This means a lot to me” His face nuzzles into my neck, his slight stubble tickling me

“I’m glad you like me, Dr Reid.”

He chuckles slightly and sighs

“You have no idea.”

[aurorawritestoescape]

The Devil in Me

Pairing: DEVIL!Dieter Bravo x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Genre: smut and fluff, Devil AU

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, porn with almost no plot, allusions to sa, reader struggles with self worth, praise kink, breast play, thigh riding, blood play, vampirism, unprotected piv, daddy kink, oral(f receiving), fucking the Devil, creampie, religious themes, men’s thighs)

Summary: being an aspiring actress but failing to succeed, you decide to use an unorthodox method to get the desirable money and fame. You perform a summoning ritual in order to sell your soul to the Devil. Lucky for you, he pays you a visit and happens to be devilishly handsome.

Word count: 4,3k

A/n: the moment I saw Pedro’s Met Gala look, this thot was nailed into my brain. Hence the fic. Big thanks to @ozarkthedog for giving me a necessary push with this post. English is my second language, sorry for any mistakes or general fuckupery of the story;) <3

As long as you remembered, your only wish was to become a famous movie star with millions of fans who worshiped you. So you took various and fucking expensive acting classes, went to dozens of auditions where you acted your heart out. And still every time another nepo baby got the job of your dreams. You felt bitter as hell. You couldn’t bear the rejection, the harassment, slimy hands and hungry glances of producers and agents. Under the pretences of helping you, they hunted for your body like predators and gave nothing in return. The debts were pilling up, and waiting tables at a lousy café didn’t promise you any financial stability. You kept jumping high but still couldn’t grab that lucky ticket in the air. 

So when, at a flea market, you happened to see an old spell book, it immediately piqued your interest. You looked through the pages and noticed a ritual called "Summoning the Devil to Sell Your Soul." You laughed at first but, to your own surprise, paid for the book and brought it home. It was on a whim. You didn’t believe any of that hocus-pocus shit, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

…..

You were in your rented one-bedroom apartment, sitting on the bed and reading about the preparation for the summoning. You let out a laugh. It was so easy. Make the room dark. Light some candles. Say the spell. And voilà! The Devil himself would appear and give you everything you wished for in return for your  precious soul. You didn’t think much of it. 100% that it wouldn’t happen. But if by some crazy magical supernatural chance it did, you’d be ready. Your soul had been torn to shreds by disgusting and power-hungry men, so you’d be happy to replace it with the long awaited fame and money. 

You followed the simple instructions: drew the curtains to keep the light of the sunset out and lit all the candles you could find at home. You looked around and found the atmosphere quite relaxing. The air was heavy with a sickly mixture of scents - vanilla, pine, strawberry. Yet it was hiding the greasy smell of the Chinese you’d had before. The candlelight bathed the room in a golden light, its flickering flames making shadows dance on the walls. You plopped down on your bed and placed the spell book on your lap. At the back of your mind, you were laughing at yourself for being such a fool. But to an outside eye you’d have seemed serious and focused. Your lips silently moved, reading the spell several times. Then you cleared your throat with a cough, said "Fuck it!" and read the spell loudly.

….

Nothing happened. You were still alone in your shitty room, shitty apartment, living your shitty life. It wasn’t a surprise. You sighed heavily, closed the book with a thump and threw it on the floor. You climbed on your bed, got under the covers and buried your head in the pillow. Disappointment was gnawing at your gut. How could you hope that ridiculous summoning spell would work? You shut your eyes, feeling the tears fall on the pillow beneath you. 

You didn’t know how much time passed. You were in that trippy state between wakefulness and sleep. Then your whole body twitched and chills covered your skin. You weren’t cold, quite hot actually because of all the candles. All of a sudden, you felt the weight on the other side of the mattress. You turned rapidly and saw a man sitting next to you on the bed. His back was leaning on the headboard and his legs were stretched out and crossed at the feet. You jumped out of the bed with a scream and stared at him paralyzed with fear, eyes round and breath unsteady. In contrast with your own reaction, he seemed relaxed. His dark intent eyes had a humorous spark in them, looking at you with amusement, his plump lips were curled up in a smirk. His skin was tan, the colour of caramel and rich honey. He had an aquiline nose, a salt and pepper patchy beard and a moustache. His dark hair was neatly slicked back. He was, without a doubt, the most handsome man you’d ever seen. But the most peculiar thing about him was his attire. He had a bright red coat with a red shirt underneath and a thin black tie. You glanced down to see that he was wearing black shorts which were covering little of his thick thighs. On his feet, he had black high patent boots with black socks peeking out. 

His smirk was replaced by a blinding grin and you heard his deep comforting voice. 

“Hi, darling,” he said, rolling R with his tongue, making the word sound delicious. 

“Wh...who the fuck are you?! Why are you in my apartment?!” you exclaimed in a panic, wrapping your arms around your middle. 

The stranger’s smile fell, and he looked at you with sad puppy eyes and furrowed brows as if you’d slapped him on the face. 

“You summoned me, remember?”

You couldn’t believe your eyes or your ears. With your voice lowered to a whisper, you asked him as if somebody could hear your secret, “Are you the Devil?”

His wide smile returned, making the wrinkles around his eyes more pronounced. He opened his arms to present himself to you and announced enthusiastically, “Yes, I am! The one and only King of Hell, darling!”

 You were speechless.  What do people say in these situations? Would you like a drink, Satan? Why are you in shorts? It was crazy. So you kept standing there with an open mouth and widened eyes. 

Noticing your confusion, the Devil sat up, bent his right leg and started scratching his knee. “I understand your shock and all, but I’m a busy man, you see. People desire a lot of things these days. Thank God for consumerism,” he added, putting his hands together in a prayer and looking up. “Do you still want to sell your soul?” the Devil inquired as he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

You closed your mouth and opened it again. “Yes! But to be honest, I didn’t expect the spell to work …and you look like this…it’s a lot,” you explained to him while fumbling with the hem of your t-shirt.

At that, the Devil’s face fell, and he looked down at himself straightening his coat and shirt.

“What’s wrong with the way I look? …wanted to try something new. And I’ve been told that it’s very stylish,” he retorted, glancing at you sideways.

In truth, you loved the clothes and the boots, but his childish reaction amused you and, feeling a little bolder, you decided to tease him.

“Been told by who exactly?” you smirked at him. “Demons,” he replied with his plush lips in a pout.

“Ha! They’re telling you what you wanna hear. They’re kinda your employees.” You crossed your arms and continued your taunting, “And this lip ring. What’s that for?”

The Devil sucked in his lower lip, touching the ring with his tongue and replied, “It makes me look edgy”. You raised your eyebrows at him, “Why do you need more edge, man? You’re the fucking Devil!” Oh, you enjoyed it. At hearing that he shrugged, growled, took off the lip ring and tossed it in the direction of your wardrobe. He then stared at you with narrowed eyes, as if trying to burn a hole in your face. You almost burst into giggles, seeing him like that. The big bad Devil got bullied by a human girl.

By the look of you he must have realised that you‘d been playing with him and his grin returned to his face.

“Haha, very funny,” he said sarcastically and leaned his back on the headboard again. “Let’s talk terms and conditions then, style expert. You give me your soul, I give you what you desire. What is it you desire, darling?” he added with a luscious smile.

The endearment made you blush. You cleared your throat and replied that you wanted to be a famous actress. He nodded and waved his hand as if brushing away your concerns. 

“No problem! You will be, beautiful! We just need to make the deal, and you’ll be the happiest and wealthiest star till the day you die. You’ll live for many wonderful years, but when the time comes I’ll see you in Hell” he explained with excitement on his face. You were aware of that condition but hearing out loud about the prospect of burning in Hell for eternity made you drop your head in doubt, a surge of nerves making you pace the floor along the bed.

Seeing your unease, the Devil crawled to the side of the bed you had previously occupied and sat there with his feet on the floor. You took a step back and looked at him as your fear returned. He was the Devil after all. His exposed legs were spread widely, almost touching yours. His long coat was laying on the bed like a crimson cover. 

He took your hand and placed it between his big, hot palms. To your surprise, the physical touch made your core tingle and the heart skip a beat. 

“You know what, if you aren’t sure, I won’t pressure you. You can go through some more auditions, do a couple of tampon commercials and may be one day your fame will find you.”

“No!” you exclaimed, almost startling yourself. You knew what he was doing, painting your dream impossible to achieve on your own, but the desire to make it big was so strong, all you needed was the smallest push. “I  can’t live like this any longer. I want it here and now.” 

Then adoration and content blossomed on his face and your chest swelled. 

“That’s wonderful,” he purred. “Now we need to do the deed, and it’s done.”

You swallowed loudly. “The deed? Mmm… As in ‘to have sex’?” 

His gaze drifted lower, taking in your form in front of him, and he responded in a husky voice, “You shall give yourself to me completely and fully, and then you’ll be mine forever.”

Of course. Men in power always wanted a piece of you, why would the Devil himself be different? But in a weird way, you trusted Him more than anyone else to make your wish come true, and so you whispered “O… ok.”

His whole demeanour changed in a flash. His face darkened, previously adoring eyes got flooded with lust and desire, the soft smile morphed into a hungry animalistic grin. 

It scared you. You glanced down at yourself, suddenly aware of your old almost see-through t-shirt and sleeping shorts covering not much of your body. You’d felt too comfortable with him before, in part forgetting who it was in front of you. At that moment, the air grew hotter and heavier. The candle flames began trembling rapidly without any breeze and the whole room got darker, resembling a crypt. The Devil’s red coat and shirt looked maroon. 

He still had your hand in his palms and gently pulled you closer to him. You were all the way between his legs and the Devil moved his right leg, slid the knee between your legs, placed his hands on your waist and pushed you down, so you could straddle his right thigh. You grasped his shoulders to stable yourself. He wasn’t smiling anymore, his expression was determined and lustful. His plush lips found your neck and you whimpered. The Devil smelled like smoke and your eyes watered a little. He started leaving open mouth kisses on your neck, making your eyes close. Your chest was flush against his broad shoulder, and you were sure he could sense your heart fluttering. 

“I promise to give you everything you desire, darling. But before that I’ll  make you feel devilishly good,” he whispered, nipping on your earlobe. “Do you agree?”

You nodded, but he needed to hear it.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes,” you replied, and a peculiar feeling rushed through your body. Your eyes darted down and you gasped, finding yourself completely naked. Your clothes just vanished. His lips left your neck, and he was leering down at you, devouring your form. “Fuck…you’re gorgeous.” The praise made your head spin and your core tingle. Chills covered your whole body and you shivered.

“All trembling for me,” he murmured. “Such a good girl.”

His hands snaked down to your ass, palming your cheeks and pushing you closer to his torso. Your clit rubbed on the material of his shorts and a quiet moan escaped your lips. The devil grumbled, hearing the sounds you made for him. You felt his huge bulge pushing into your thigh. He lowered his head, reaching your breast with his mouth, and started to lick and suck on your bud.

“Delicious little thing,” the Devil cooed at you between his ministrations. You needed more, so you began grinding on his thigh at a steady pace whimpering softly. Your movements made the hem of his shorts rise up, and you felt his bare leg with your cunt. You were so wet, making a mess of his shorts and thigh. You’d never been so aroused before, and the need for a release was overwhelming. Soon your body and forehead were covered in beads of sweat, your legs trembling from exhaustion. He was guiding you with his strong hands gripping your hips and kissing you wherever he could reach. Your clit was throbbing, and soon you felt your core tighten and the burning in your stomach increase.

“Fuck! m'go… gonna cum!” you moaned through heavy breathing. 

“Yes, cum for the Devil, baby!” he ordered and slapped your ass cheek, leaving a slight burn. Your head fell back, the spine arched, and a hard orgasm shook your whole body. The strength left you, so he continued moving your body, helping you to ride it out. When overstimulation hit, you fell on his chest. You put your forehead on his shoulder, as aftershocks shook you from time to time. 

“No rest for the wicked,” he said, and suddenly took your exhausted body in his arms bridal style, and plopped you on the bed carelessly. 

You got a whiplash from the rapid change of position. You were on your back, and the Devil climbed on top of you, straddling your thighs. The tail of his coat was covering your feet. You couldn’t help but gawk at him. A strand of hair fell on his forehead. His broad and tall frame was towering over you, and his looming shadow covered almost all the room. It made you feel tiny and powerless under him. One moment you could swear his shadow had horns and giant wings, but you blinked, and it was normal again. The devil was leering at you with hungry obsidian eyes and, feeling exposed, you tried to cover your chest with your hands. But by some invisible force, your hands were yanked over your head and held there tightly. As if being touch starved, the Devil began kneading your soft breasts. He twitched one nipple hard, making you scream, but the pain was replaced by pleasure when he put his mouth on the burning bud and circled his tongue around it. He wasn’t rushing it, sucking on each breast for a long time until you couldn’t take it anymore. Overstimulation made you squirm and rub your thighs together, as your cunt was crying for attention.

Happy with his work, the Devil set up again, admiring your abused puffy nipples.

“Daddy’s thirsty, baby. Will you help me out?” You bit your bottom lip when you heard what he’d called himself. It was so twisted and your stomach was overflowing with desire for him. 

But the question confused you. As if to give you an answer, he placed his hand on your belly and, following his gaze, you noticed long, sharp claws on his fingers. You were sure they hadn’t been there before. You swallowed loudly and squeaked, “Don’t hurt me, please”

His grin widened as he cooed at you, “Don’t worry, darling. You won’t feel a thing."

The Devil pressed his index finger below your belly button and made a vertical cut with his pointy claw. You gasped, although the pain was bearable, just a little sting. You saw drops of blood appear, and his eyes sparkled. He dropped his head to your belly and licked the blood, moaning avidly. He made a few other cuts and cleaned them with his mouth. Though a bit scared you enjoyed feeling his tongue just inches above your cunt. You desperately wished he would move lower. When he was satiated, his head fell on your stomach, and he caressed your thighs and legs with his now both normal hands, humming quietly. A strange wave of affection took over you. You asked him if he could free your hands. He looked up at you with an air of confusion in his heavy-lidded eyes. It seemed that he’d forgotten having tied you up at all.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he replied finally in a hoarse voice. When your arms could move, you began combing his soft silky hair with your fingers and gently scratching his scalp. The Devil purred. He was still rubbing your thighs so you knew he didn’t fall asleep.

“Are you ok?” you finally inquired as if you were just talking to your lover.

“No one ever asks me that,” the Devil replied as he looked up. He gave you a sleepy smile and still seemed to be drunk on your blood.

You were awestruck, thinking how much he was like a human man, aside from the claws and the blood thirst. You wondered if he was lonely but didn’t want to break the comfortable silence.

After a few minutes he sat up and you noticed that all the cuts on your belly disappeared. The lustful expression returned to his face once again.

"Thank you, darling. You tasted divine,” he whispered as he climbed between your legs. “Would you like me to fuck you now?” he asked, leering at your spread cunt and gently tracing your slick folds with his finger. 

“Yes!” You said louder than it was intended. 

“Then beg for it, baby! Pray to your Devil!” he ordered with a mischievous smirk. Your cunt couldn’t bear another second without his attention. “Please! I beg you, fuck me please! Make me cum!”

Your words seemed to satisfy him. 

“Oh, I’d be happy to. Lie down and enjoy yourself. Daddy’ll take care of you.” Then you felt two thick fingers enter you. You moaned, arching your back and your fingers grasped the covers. His digits were thick, but you’d been dripping on the bed for a long time, so he entered you easily. 

“So tight, darling. We need to work you open first to receive the Devil’s cock in all its glory.”

He was pumping his fingers in and out, curling them inside and pulling the filthiest sounds out of you. Then you felt his hot mouth on your cunt. He was lapping at your juices, swirling his tongue on your hardened clit and working his fingers. Soon he added the third and the fourth digit and fucked you steadily.  You never expected to stretch that much, but you guessed everything was possible with the Devil. He seemed to enjoy eating you out as much as you did, as he growled into your cunt, the vibrations taking your pleasure to the highest level. 

“Such a nasty girl, giving your soul and pussy to me,” he said, leaving your cunt for a second and licking his lips.

You whimpered at the sight. He was turning you on even more than you could imagine. Soon, his and your moans created a sinful harmony together

“God!” you cried out and he slapped your cunt with his free hand. “Devil, baby, not God!” The pain mixed with pleasure sent electricity through your core and another orgasm hit you. You gushed all over his hand and lower face and he drank you up like it was the tastiest nectar. Finally, you pushed your legs together to stop him from licking you. 

“Now you’re ready for my cock”, he said, sitting up, then grabbed your hips and span you on your stomach. Your face hit the pillows, and your body felt cold as the covers were soaked with your sweat and juices. 

“Elbows and knees, baby,” he ordered. The motion was so rapid you needed a moment to obey, but he impatiently yanked your hips in the air with his big hands.

You heard the rustling of his clothes and then his cock landed on your ass. By the weight of it, it was huge. You turned your head to get a peek and saw his enormous erect member with red angry tip leaking precum on your ass cheek. You got nervous, and he smirked at that. 

"Don’t fear, my dear. I’ll be gentle." 

That was a lie. One moment you felt his tip at your entrance, and in the other he plunged his hard length into you to the bottom. You yelped, suddenly feeling full to the brim. 

“Mmm, such a greedy pussy. Sucking daddy in so well.”

His first push made your front slide forward on the bed, so his arm circled your middle to keep you still, the other hand pushed between your shoulder blades, making your spine arch even more. He started fucking you with strong and deliberate thrusts, and the bliss in your core made your eyes roll back. Loud moans were leaving your open mouth as you were drooling on the pillow. You could sense every vein of his thick cock, and his tip was pushing at your cervix, causing a delicious ache. 

“You gonna come again, baby”, he said and it wasn’t a question. “I can feel you squeezing me. Let daddy help a little”.

Suddenly you felt pressure on your clit. You looked down but didn’t see his hands as they were still holding you in place. The invisible force returned and began circling your bundle of nerves in tight strokes and gently twitching your nipples. You didn’t need much time to reach the third orgasm. Every nerve was electrified, making your limbs and torso shake uncontrollably. Your cunt was flattering around the Devil’s cock and that made him growl, “Yes, that’s my girl.”

The invisible hands left your body as soon as the muscle strength left you. If not for him holding you by the waist, you would have plopped down on the bed. His pace increased and the slapping of his hips on your ass was getting faster. At last, he started cumming. You felt his cock pulsate inside your channel, filling you with his hot seed. He was pumping his cum and your juices back into you vigorously accompanied by lewd sounds and his snarls. Some time passed and he was still going. You were completely spent, and your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. When he finally stilled and pulled out, he lowered your hips gently and laid down next to you. You felt his cum leaking out of your hole.

Then the Devil took you in his arms, so you could rest your head on his chest, and he covered your legs and ass with his coat to keep you warm. 

He pinched your chin with his fingers and tilted your head up to face him. You were looking at each other with gratitude and satisfaction. His dark eyes were trailing the lines of your features as if they were constellations in the sky. Your breath was once again stolen by his beauty.

Then the Devil kissed you. His plush lips were first gentle, but when his tongue slipped inside your mouth, he tightened his arms around you and kissed you hard. He tasted like something sweet and spicy. You were glued to each other for a long time, and you purred in his arms. It was a parting gift and at the same time the kiss sealed your destiny. When the Devil’s lips left yours, you whined. He smiled at your greediness.

“Before you go to sleep, we need to sign the contract, darling”. You followed his eyes and saw that he was holding a big parchment. 

“Let me help you, baby.” He took your hand and put your index finger in his mouth. A sting made you wince. He pulled it out and pressed your fingertip onto the paper. It left a crimson mark on the contract.

“That’s it. Now you are mine forever,” he explained with a soft smile and licked your finger making the bite mark disappear.

You furrowed your brows looking up at him, grabbed his tie and tugged him closer to your face.

“Wait. You told me that we just needed to fuck to seal the deal. Was it even necessary?”

He chuckled and then whispered in your ear “Well darling. You’re so stunning. How could I not? You should’ve known better than to trust the Devil.

You giggled and pushed your face into his neck. He still smelled like smoke, and you thought that it was your favourite smell in the world. You closed your eyes and soon drifted off to sleep. 

When you woke up, the bed next to you was empty, the candles had burnt out and the morning sun was peeking through the curtains. You sat up and wondered if it all might have been a dream. The contract, the Devil and the best sex of your life.

But the next moment your phone buzzed with a call and, when you picked it up, your whole life changed. 

😈

Thank you for reading! <3

Comments and reblogs are appreciated💋

Part 2

[pixelgrotto]

Monkey Nationalism

For the last month and a half my gaming life has revolved around Black Myth: Wukong. I have covered it extensively in my day job, and I urge everyone to check out our exhaustive walkthroughs, which are darn good if I say so myself. Job aside, playing Black Myth has been something of a thought exercise in how I feel about my Chineseness. This is a big, sexy Soulslike and China's first AAA game to win international acclaim, not just from the niche audiences who know what "wuxia" means, but from white people who probably assumed that this was another Japanese game at first. Put another way, mainstream YouTubers are now making lore videos for Black Myth that are explanations of Journey to the West references, and it's wild seeing them talk about Bodhisattva Lingji and why Nezha needs to be in the DLC.

This phenomenon makes me realize that Black Myth: Wukong is one of those rare products that incites pride in my Chinese heritage, despite the fact that in almost all circumstances, I identify as half-Taiwanese instead of Chinese. That's a choice (and a political one), but in spite of these feelings I still wrote a goofy Steam review of this game after my first few hours, exclaiming that it made me "adopt a Beijing accent, speak in 4-character proverbs and sip tea under chrysanthemum trees while composing poetry about the glory of ZHONGGUO."

I was probably inspired to write this review thanks to the excellent Chinese dub, which is indeed full of Mainland accents. (The English dub, for what it's worth, is also very good and full of British accents, which I prefer over American ones for something like this.) Honestly, I found myself surprised that I was so enamored, as I haven't fully read Journey to the West. My one attempt to consume the Arthur Waley translation as a kid failed, and when I listened to the Julia Lovell version via audiobook a few months ago, I found it a bit lacking. (Turns out audio isn't the best way to consume a 16th-century collection of Monster of the Week tales where the moral often boils down to "Buddhism is the best!")

I'm not alone in this regard, though, as most Chinese folks - especially those in the diaspora - probably also experienced Journey to the West via alternate media. In my case, Dragonball was the big property that brought Wukong into my consciouness (albeit via his Japanese name of Goku), and I will perish upon the hill that the first arc of Akira Toriyama's manga is actually a solid interpretation of the story. I was also oddly obsessed with the PS1 games Monkey Magic and Saiyuki: Journey West, and at one point, I attempted to make a game in Klik & Play where I edited a sprite from Conquest of the Crystal Palace into wannabe Wukong. I never made more than this sprite and a makeshift title screen, but my heart was certainly into it for that brief period.

Frankly, you don't need to be familiar with Journey to the West to enjoy Black Myth: Wukong, though some knowledge of the subject matter does help to comprehend the game's plot, which is communicated in the usual Soulslike way. By the time of the game's release, more players were probably attuned to Black Myth's controversies instead of its inspiration, to be honest. There were the mysognistic comments the devs had made, the report by IGN translating these remarks, the limitations on streamers, and the culture war that resulted when chuds decided that legitimate criticism of this game was too "woke." Amidst all of this was the fact that as one of the few Chinese games to obtain global appeal, Black Myth: Wukong naturally became a cornerstone of nationalism. "This game is China's pride and joy! It wasn't made for Westerners with DEI requirements! Blah blah!"

The discourse was deeply disheartening. Frankly, it made me not want to like Black Myth: Wukong. I'd rather support something that isn't embroiled in woman-disparaging rhetoric or tankie apologism, and when it comes to made-in-China games, I'm more partial to anything made-in-Taiwan, like Detention or any of the other great projects made by Red Candle Games.

But those games don't have the big budget and glitz of Black Myth: Wukong. They don't have a hidden ending where the Destined One transforms into a gigantic Stone Monkey and punches Erlang Shen in the face. And they don't quite have this phenomenon that's motivated consumers into mentioning Chinese mythology and culture in the same sentences where they're namedropping Elden Ring. That's something special that makes my heart shine, and once again, we return to the fact that I normally identify as half-Taiwanese.

To identify as Taiwanese is to forever be in the shadow of Mainland China, a nation that forces the name "Chinese Taipei" upon an island that it says it will claim by force if necessary. To be Taiwanese American, in my case, is to constantly be assaulted by US media harping on about cross-strait relations, and rolling my eyes at "China Watchers" who play wargames where they move pieces around a board to simulate a hostile takeover of Formosa.

Yet, political pain aside, Taiwan does have a connected lineage with its larger neighbor. And Journey to the West is one of those shared mythologies, with Wukong not only capturing the imaginations of the denizens of China and Greater China, but also the mind of just about everyone in East and Southeast Asia. There's something about a Monkey King springing from a rock that makes people temporarily unite, and I admit that at the end of 105 hours, I am one of those persons.

I had to devote a lot of time to Black Myth: Wukong because of work. But even if I hadn't been paid to play it, I'd still consider it very good. It's embroiled in kaka almost as bitter as the vehemence that spans the Taiwan Strait, but it's a fine game, say what you will about separating art from the artist - or in this case, politics from the monkey and his quest to recover Buddhist scriptures. I hope that the discourse doesn't repeat itself in time for the inevitable sequel, and I hope the devs learn from their errors and stop being shits to women.

Nezha can also show up in the DLC too, if they like.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Illustrious Client pt 3

Had a busy weekend, so I'm one behind again, but where were we?

A hypnotised woman, a man so evil he wants everyone to know about it and he keeps a special scrapbook of his favourite evil moments for him to read in bed at night when he can't sleep. My favourite character is probably not going to be in it again, seeing as she failed to convince the guy's latest victim that he's a murdering arsehole, but I really hope she gets to stamp his face in with her boot. Y'know. As a treat.

Oh, and then someone tried to kill Holmes. There was a cliffhanger. I almost forgot about that.

The Illustrious Client on whose behalf Sherlock Holmes was consulted was anxious to prevent the marriage of the young, rich and beautiful Miss Violet de Merville to Baron Gruner, an unscrupulous adventurer.

Given some of the descriptions Watson has given of perfectly nice clients, I feel like 'unscrupulous adventurer' is such a milquetoast way of putting this. And also rather offensive to adventurers.

“I'm a bit of a single-stick expert, as you know. I took most of them on my guard. It was the second man that was too much for me.”

See, this is why I don't get why everyone insists on Watson being the action man of the pair. Holmes is out there whacking people with sticks. Watson occasionally shoots a dog.

No, I'm never going to be over that.

"They'll come to you for news. Put it on thick, Watson. Lucky if I live the week out—concussion—delirium—what you like! You can't overdo it.”

This is a definite step up from The Dying Detective where Holmes was convinced that if Watson knew he wasn't dying, he'd never be able to convince anyone of it. Has Watson's acting got better or has Holmes just realised that pretending to be dying is a dick move? Something tells me it isn't the first option. I don't think it's the second, either, if I'm honest. I feel like Holmes needs Watson to do something. But still, not lying to your best friend about dying. So proud of you.

“Yes. Tell Shinwell Johnson to get that girl out of the way. Those beauties will be after her now."

If anything bad happens to Kitty, I riot.

He pushed to an extreme the axiom that the only safe plotter was he who plotted alone.

Even so, he's still doing way better than he used to. We're all very proud of him.

It was simply that among the passengers on the Cunard boat Ruritania, starting from Liverpool on Friday, was the Baron Adelbert Gruner, who had some important financial business to settle in the States before his impending wedding to Miss Violet de Merville...

Apparently it was almost a week to get to the States on a liner in those days, which is less time than I thought, but also quite a while to spend travelling (2 weeks, there and back) right before your wedding. The wedding is not that imminent, I guess.

"Now, Watson, I want you to do something for me.” “I am here to be used, Holmes.”

“Well, then, spend the next twenty-four hours in an intensive study of Chinese pottery.” He gave no explanations and I asked for none. By long experience I had learned the wisdom of obedience.

On the one hand, this also shows growth, on the other, blindly following Holmes' instructions seems like a terrible idea in so. many. ways. But y'know, whatever floats their boats. Ours not to kink shame.

I was sucking in knowledge and committing names to memory. There I learned of the hall-marks of the great artist-decorators, of the mystery of cyclical dates, the marks of the Hung-wu and the beauties of the Yung-lo, the writings of Tang-ying, and the glories of the primitive period of the Sung and the Yuan.

“It needs careful handling, Watson. This is the real egg-shell pottery of the Ming dynasty. No finer piece ever passed through Christie's. A complete set of this would be worth a king's ransom..."

Will the priceless historic china survive? That's the real question.

"You may as well be a medical man, since that is a part which you can play without duplicity. You are a collector, this set has come your way, you have heard of the Baron's interest in the subject, and you are not averse to selling at a price.”

OK. okayokayokayokayokay. No.

If this guy knows who Holmes is. Then he should, therefore, know who Watson is, too. We have even had, in this very story, evidence that supports that because the colonel (whose name I can't remember right now) was like 'yes, of course Dr Watson should be involved toodle pip." (I added the toodle pip part, but the rest was accurate enough.)

So surely the guy who arranged for Holmes to be murdered - who is apparently tracking down Kitty to murder her, too - surely he should know who Watson is. Therefore either this is a double bluff and Holmes is knowingly sending Watson into a danger that has already tried to claim his own life or he doesn't think that his opponent is smart enough to connect his enemy to their best friend who writes about them frequently and who has been visiting him daily since the attack.

If he turns out to be right and the baron doesn't recognise Watson immediately, I will be further annoyed at his incompetence.

On the same evening, with the precious saucer in my hand and the card of Dr. Hill Barton in my pocket, I set off on my own adventure.

Oh really? Like... an adventurer, would you say?

The place had been built by a South African gold king in the days of the great boom, and the long, low house with the turrets at the corners, though an architectural nightmare, was imposing in its size and solidity.

Glad to see Watson turning his scathing judgements to architecture as well as people. It was... it was a very solid building. It had that going for it.

He was certainly a remarkably handsome man. His European reputation for beauty was fully deserved. In figure he was not more than of middle size, but was built upon graceful and active lines. His face was swarthy, almost Oriental, with large, dark, languorous eyes which might easily hold an irresistible fascination for women. His hair and moustache were raven black, the latter short, pointed, and carefully waxed. His features were regular and pleasing, save only his straight, thin-lipped mouth. If ever I saw a murderer's mouth it was there—a cruel, hard gash in the face, compressed, inexorable, and terrible. He was ill-advised to train his moustache away from it, for it was Nature's danger-signal, set as a warning to his victims.

Oh my god. Watson. Watson. Quite being so horny on main. I am begging you. Stop ogling the man. And he can't help the way his moustache is away from his mouth - it's all the twirling.

"I would ask you what do you know of the Emperor Shomu and how do you associate him with the Shoso-in near Nara? Dear me, does that puzzle you? Tell me a little about the Northern Wei dynasty and its place in the history of ceramics.” I sprang from my chair in simulated anger.

Watson. Watson. My dude. My man. My good sir. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK was the point of you learning everything there is to know about Chinese pottery if you're not even going to bother to answer his motherfucking questions? What even is this? What was the point? WHY?

I mean, I'm pretty sure he knew who you were from the moment you sent the letter but even so. Even so! I can't get annoyed about him not committing to the bit when you're out here not even trying to commit to any of it.

Two steps took me to the open door, and my mind will ever carry a clear picture of the scene within. The window leading out to the garden was wide open. Beside it, looking like some terrible ghost, his head girt with bloody bandages, his face drawn and white, stood Sherlock Holmes.

Well, I was right. It was a double bluff. Watson was the distraction, cool cool. He was rubbish at it, but at least Holmes knew he was going to fail.

An arm—a woman's arm—shot out from among the leaves. At the same instant the Baron uttered a horrible cry—a yell which will always ring in my memory. He clapped his two hands to his face and rushed round the room, beating his head horribly against the walls. Then he fell upon the carpet, rolling and writhing, while scream after scream resounded through the house.

The features which I had admired a few minutes before were now like some beautiful painting over which the artist has passed a wet and foul sponge.

So that's why you went on about how hot he was. For the contrast. Gotcha.

Obviously this is terrible and throwing acid in people's faces is awful and horrible etc.

On the other hand, I support Kitty Winter and she's never done anything wrong ever in her life.

"It was that hell-cat, Kitty Winter!”

“It is his love diary?”

You say that like it's a normal thing.

???

"I knew I had only a few minutes in which to act, for my time was limited by your knowledge of Chinese pottery."

Holmes' perennial lack of faith in Watson's abilities is as sad as it is earned.

But he didn't even use his knowledge of Chinese pottery. He didn't even try.

“But if these injuries are as terrible as Dr. Watson describes, then surely our purpose of thwarting the marriage is sufficiently gained without the use of this horrible book.”

Wow, you think very little of Violet. I also think very little of her, but honestly, I'm pretty sure this isn't a deal breaker for her. Just say you think she's shallow and fickle, why don't you?

The same paper had the first police-court hearing of the proceedings against Miss Kitty Winter on the grave charge of vitriol-throwing. Such extenuating circumstances came out in the trial that the sentence, as will be remembered, was the lowest that was possible for such an offence.

Good for her.

...when an object is good and a client is sufficiently illustrious, even the rigid British law becomes human and elastic.

YAY! CORRUPTION!!

🥳🥳🥳

What a weird note to end it on. But the day was saved, I guess. Weirdly as it was. Violet de Merville presumably went on to continue to be a supercilious nightmare of a woman and Baron Adelbert Gruner was punished with *checks notes* disfigurement and blindness... so I guess that's a happy ending?

idek.

I'm glad Kitty got to fuck him up, though. That was very satisfying.

[milarqui]

Scarlet Lady: Guitar Villain

Directory | Pixelator

Jagged finished his solo, sliding on his knees, and strummed the last note in the latest song he had come up with.

“Whaddya think, perfect for the album, eh, Bob? Totally killer?”

“What would be really killer would be a duet with XY!”

Ugh.

Jagged stood up again and adjusted his Eiffel Sunglasses – he had barely taken them off since the issue with Pixelator got resolved – to glare at his manager.

“You kidding me?! I'm not singing with some kid who doesn't even shave yet!”

Nevermind that his music was the most simple and un-rock-n-roll thing in the world of music.

But, for some reason, Bob liked the boy.

“That 'kid' is number 1 on the sales chart!” Bob exclaimed.

“Bob, what would a duet between Jagged and XY even sound like?” Penny, ever the magnificent, interrupted. “They're not even the same music genre!”

“Oh, it'll be fine after you modernize your music, find a new style, and change everything about yourself.”

“FUCK OFF.”

Seriously, what the hell did this guy think? That he was gonna fold like paper?

“Are these album covers part of your 'modernization'?” he asked, disgusted. “They look like perfume ads, blegh!”

Piss on that. And on his ideas. If he wanted a perfume ad on a cover, then he'd better slam it on that sell-out.

“Bob, me and Jagged want to commission the collége student who made his glasses: Marinette,” Penny intervened once more. He could kiss her – she was always the best with this diplomacy stuff. “She's talented, gets his tastes, and is in our target demographic.”

“A collége student?! You can't be–!”

He made a subtle sign.

And Fang 'casually' passed by Bob's side and growled rather menacingly.

He grinned; it had taken a while to get Fang to do that on command, but it had been totally worth it.

“AH, I mean, fine! But think about the duet!”

Yeah, piss on that.

Why the hell did he keep this idiot as his manager, again?

----

“Adrien, Mlle. Bourgeois requests your presence,” Nathalie suddenly announced. “For a 'surprise'.”

“Eh?! Uh...” It wasn't that he hated Chloé, but... as of late, he wasn't exactly keen on being alone with her.

Alright, he really disliked the idea. Lately, Chloé had become clingier, more irritating... she even tried to ruin any attempt he made to be with Marinette, like at the zoo (granted, Animan would have ruined it anyway, but still...).

“Ah, well, I would but, uh, I should really go over my Chinese and–”

“Adrien. You're always asking for more time with your friends and now that I offer you the opportunity you refuse?”

Yeah, because every other time I ask is to be with Nino, Marinette and Alya!

“Ah, I just meant –”

“Also, your father already accepted, so play nice.”

…

Dammit, père.

The one time he could have used his negative...

----

“Adrichou secured!” Chloé declared, and Tikki resigned herself to having to deal with whatever harebrained scheme she had come up with this time.

“Why'd you call Adrien?”

“So he can meet Jagged Stone, of course!”

He had met him last week, right?

She would have voiced the thought, but Chloé interrupted by shoving her hand almost into her face.

“Rule of the Bourgeois number 148: have a best friend to pamper! Preferably a rich one.”

That explained a lot about the family.

“But his daddy might stop Adrien from seeing me, which is why it's good to have a back up.”

She would have liked to point out that it was likelier that Adrien's father would force him to see Chloé, but chose to concentrate on the most immediate problem.

“'Back up'?”

“Rule 72: all guys have to be crazy about you,” Chloé replied, filling up an order for a pizza with no sauce, no cheese, and gluten-free crust – and requested the pizzeria to send their cutest delivery guy. Tikki did not mention that every guy that knew Chloé ranged from growing disinterest (Adrien) to wouldn't-spit-on-her-if-she-were-on-fire (all her other classmates). “And I know just the guy!”

----

“So, you're in, yes or no?”

“You want me to create Jagged Stone's new album cover?!”

Marinette was shocked. Jagged Stone's manager had come to make her an offer she would have never considered possible.

“Requested by Jagged Stone himself! He wants you to take us in a new direction!”

“A 'new direction'?”

There was something weird in that comment.

“Here, I brought you a visual reference,” Roth said, pulling out something from his pocket.

“Oh, thank–!” She saw what was on that object and her enthusiasm dried up. “You...”

This... this didn't look like what Jagged Stone normally had in his album covers. This looked more like something XY did.

“... um, this looks a little–”

“It's what Jagged Stone wants,” Roth interrupted her.

“Are you sur–”

“What Jagged Stone wants.”

She gave the man a weird look, but with her parents' permission she went upstairs to her room, to begin working on it.

“Ugh, why does Jagged Stone want to change to this?!” she exclaimed. “It's cold, soulless, repetitive, banal. The opposite of Jagged's style and mine. But it's what I was asked to do...”

“What do your parents do with bad requests?” Pollen asked.

“My parents?”

“Mhmm!”

“Well, sometimes they give a sample of what the customer asked for just to prove how awful it is. Sometimes it makes the customer realize how bad it is.”

“Oh!”

She put her hands together as in prayer and leaned into them.

“But sometimes it makes them like it more!”

“Oh.”

----

Entering the hotel's foyer, he walked up to the desk and showed the pizza box to the receptionist.

“Pizza for Mlle. Bourgeois: Penthouse suite,” he said in a bored tone: the sooner he got out of here, the better.

“Merci,” the receptionist replied, smiling, taking the box and leaving to drop it with the client.

“Luka?”

At the sound of the voice, he turned, smiling.

“Marinette!”

“What are you doing here?” Marinette asked.

“The Grande Paris Princess ordered a pizza,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Whaaa? Chloé did?” Her face of confusion was cute, and her confusion was understandable.

“She prepaid, so it's legit,” he reassured her. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a meeting with Jagged Stone.”

He felt his jaw drop.

“Jagged Stone?!”

His favorite singer in the world? Also his dad, not that that had much of an impact in his normal life. Marinette was going to meet him?

Marinette explained how she had been requested to design the new album cover and showed it to him.

It was... unsuitable, to say the least. Marinette clearly had a deft hand, but not even she could have avoided this disaster.

“I see why you're worried,” he pointed out.

“Right?! It's... a perfume ad!”

“This 'image change' sounds sketchy. Maybe wait to hear out Jagged Stone,” he suggested. If what he had heard of Jagged Stone's manager was right...

“Okay...”

Marinette didn't look very convinced, but he knew what he could do to cheer her up a bit.

“Hey, this is my last stop. I'll give you a ride home and we can talk about it after?”

“I'll take you up on that. Thanks, Luka!” she replied, smiling.

“No problem...”

As Marinette made her way to the elevator, he quickly began to pull on his pizza delivery shirt.

Gotta get out of this lame uniform, quick!

----

Unbeknownst by Luka, Marinette was looking a tad too intently as he took off the shirt... and couldn't help but blush as she saw what he was hiding underneath.

“Ma'am, the elevator's closing,” the bellboy reminded her, and she woke up, mentally hitting herself for drifting from her Chat.

The encounter with Luka, however, had not been enough to shake off her nerves, as she showed Jagged Stone what she had created.

The man scoffed.

“How did someone as talented as you make this?”

“Um, well, M. Roth said–”

“Marinette designed what the kids want!” the manager interrupted her again. “It's exactly the direction we need.”

Jagged Stone sighed.

“Ah, I see what happened here,” he said, directing a brief glare at the older man before taking her hand. “Forget Bob, Marinette. Do it in my style, in our style!”

“Jagged, I said–”

The manager's new interruption was, itself, interrupted by Fang's angry growl.

“AHH!” Roth screeched, jumping away, while Penny giggled.

“Do your best, Marinette!”

“Y-Yes!” she replied, still overwhelmed.

----

The elevator dinged, and he turned to it as the doors opened. Marinette had been done fast with Jagged Stone!

“Marine–” The girl coming out was, most definitely, not Marinette. “Oh.”

“Mon Chouka! Here you are!”

He blinked.

“Hah?!”

Sadly, his shock gave Bourgeois the time she needed to affix herself to his arm like a limpet to a boat's hull.

“What are you doing?! Why are you calling me that?!” he asked, holding himself from swatting at the girl like he would swat flies in summer.

“I knew they'd send you, mon Chouka!” she replied, clearly not understanding the concept of 'personal space' or 'you're not welcome here' as she hugged his arm. Then she turned to look at the entrance. “Oh, there's Adrien! Adrichou~!”

“Luka?” Adrien Agreste said, surprised.

In that moment, he understood.

“Oh, God, no.”

As if a pit had opened beneath his feet.

For some reason, this bully in the form of a girl was interested in him.

And, unlike with Marinette, he felt like this was a horrible punishment.

Today, the gods of music weren't with him, it seemed.

----

“Tonight, XY will give a live concert from the top of the Eiffel Tower,” the news anchor said, with a photograph of that sell-out's latest album on her right. “M. XY had this to say about beating Jagged Stone in sales.”

“King of Rock? More like King of the dinosaurs! He's a has-been!”

“Why you filthy little... perfume ad!” he growled. Realizing where the sell-out was, he walked up to the window and saw him standing there, in front of the door.

“Hey, Ragged Stone, if you wanna hear today's music, come to my concert! Just don't forget your hearing aid!”

That did it. He threw his tablet and grinned savagely as he saw it hit the sell-out straight in the noggin.

“STOP TRASH TALKING OUTSIDE MY HOTEL!” he shouted.

----

When the elevator door opened, Marinette became witness to a horrible sight.

“QUIT IT ALREADY!”

“Chloé, leave Luka alone!”

“But Super Chloé has a super surprise for you!”

The world's eyesore manhandling Adrien and Luka.

“What's... going on here?” she asked, confused. Luka immediately extended a hand towards her, looking as if she were his personal savior.

“Marinette, help!” Luka begged.

Alright, mark that as a definite.

“Marinette!” Adrien exclaimed, much happier than Luka.

Chloé was not happy at all, which was always nice. At least, she finally dropped Luka's arm – she saw him trying to either massage some blood back into circulation or brushing it as if it were dirty, she wasn't sure – and walked up to her.

“I didn't invite you to meet Jagged Stone! Get out of my hotel!” Chloé yelled, poking her in the chest, and she glared back.

“It's a good thing I don't need your invite to meet him,” she fired.

“Aw, ladies, don't fight over Guitar Villain!”

And there, standing on the entrance stairs, were Jagged Stone and Fang.

Or, rather, their Akumatized forms, with Jagged resembling a heavy metal band singer, and Fang now looking like a dragon.

“Jagged Stone?!” Luka exclaimed.

Marinette was much less pleased.

“What the heck, you were fine a minute ago!”

The Akuma ignored her, as he began to play his guitar.

“I'll never duet with XY because soon he won't be singing at all! Rock'n'RIP, Baby!”

His guitar suddenly shot some kind of sound blast, and Adrien grabbed Chloé and Luka, who grabbed Marinette.

“LOOK OUT!” Adrien shouted, kneeling and bringing the others down with him, dodging the blast by centimeters.

----

“Eek!” Chloé shrieked as the elevator door behind her opened. “Luka, Adrien, get me out of here!”

The two boys glanced at each other, gave a minute nod, and roughly shoved the girl into the elevator with blank faces.

“Wha–!” she screamed, before Luka 'helpfully' pressed one of the buttons, making the door close. “Hey! That's not what I meant!”

“At least now you can transform...?” Tikki pointed out.

----

“Soon there will only be fans of Guitar Villain!” Jagged shouted as he led Akumatized Fang outside the hotel, and Marinette knew she had to act soon.

I have to get away to transform!

But, as long as Luka and Adrien were with her, she would be unable to do it. He turned to Adrien.

“Adrien, try to flag down Chat Noir!”

“Okay!” he agreed, rushing away.

----

She didn't know that he needed to transform as well.

----

She turned to look at Luka.

“Luka, I'll try to find Marigold!”

“Alright!” he replied.

And then he grabbed her hand.

“C'mon, we'll cover more ground on my bike!”

What.

As Luka started to pull her towards the exit, she began to panic.

Wait, that's not part of the plan!

As both of them rushed outside, they saw that Chat Noir had already arrived. Marinette pulled out her cellphone (mostly because she knew Alya would kill her if she didn't get it) as Chat Noir and Guitar Villain began to trade insults.

“He even goes hard as an Akuma,” Luka said. “A dragon, wicked.”

“Hey Ragged Stone, your screeching's making my ears bleed!” Scarlet shouted, finally showing up.

“It's Guitar Villain, Scarlet Brat! Shocking Rift!”

A wave of sound suddenly hit Scarlet in the stomach, making her fly away.

“Oof!” she complained, as Guitar Villain turned away.

“You're wasting my time, I've got a concert to get to!”

“Hey, don't blow me off!” Scarlet yelled.

Nobody cared.

“You two should go home,” Chat Noir said, and Marinette began to sweat.

“Yeah...”

“Alley Cat!” Scarlet yelled. “Hurry up and call Bumbling Bug, my XY is in danger!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chat Noir huffed. “You would be an XY fan.”

No surprises there, Marinette thought as Chat Noir made the call. She couldn't hear it, but she knew what it would say.

“Marigold here, leave a message!”

“Here, Marinette,” Luka said, putting a helmet on her head.

“Huh,” Chat Noir mumbled, hanging up. “Weird, she's not picking up.”

Maybe she would if her friends weren't too sweet to leave her to transform!

----

Théo could easily recognize an Akuma. They wore garish clothes and makeup, looked like they'd been brought from some kind of hell, and they were prone to threaten people.

“Where's XY?!” the latest Akuma – riding a dragon, no less! – demanded out loud.

“A-At the TV station, doing his interview! I'm just here to set up the concert!”

“ARGH!” And then the Akuma prepared his guitar. “Rock'n'RIP, baby!”

While the Akuma was speaking, something tied to a rope snagged him and pulled him out of the way.

“Whoa!”

“Ugh, you again?!” the Akuma said as Chat Noir (and Scarlet Lady) brought him to safety. “I'm outta here! To the TV station, Fang!”

The Akuma flew off, and he did what he had to do.

“Oh, thank you for saving me, Chat Noir!”

Yeah, maybe Scarlet Lady had tossed the yo-yo, but he knew damn well who really called the shots here.

“EXCUSE YOU!” Scarlet Lady yelled, but he ignored her.

“No problem, Théo!” Chat Noir thanked him.

----

They had finally arrived home, and her parents had insisted on giving Luka enough boxes of pastries for a week or two. Now that he had tied them all to the bag in the back of the bike, he turned to her.

“Thanks for the ride, Luka!”

“Thank your parents for all the pastries!” Luka replied. “I'll text you after I check on Maman and Juleka.”

She had to cut that off quickly!

“A-Ah, um, my phone died so I might take a while to respond!” she said – it wasn't much of a lie, she really needed to start charging it if she didn't want to run out.

“Haha! I'm sure Alya appreciates it. See you!”

She waved goodbye at him until she was certain he was no longer looking, and then she rushed into the boulangerie.

“Pollen, omigod, Buzz On!”

“Buzz On, yay!”

----

As the assistant got done telling Alec what was going on, he turned to his interviewee of the afternoon.

“Ah, so, M. XY, turns out that Scarlet Lady says we're in danger, so we're gonna have to cut this short.”

“Who?”

… Did he not know about Paris' heroes?

“S-Scarlet Lady...?”

“Oh, yeah, the bug lady.”

----

Chat Noir watched as Alec Cataldi escorted XY outside the building, while Scar just... stalked.

“It's just a safety precaution, M. XY,” Alec stated.

“I'll get you to a safe place, XY!” Scar exclaimed.

He felt a bit sorry for the singer – he had been at that side of her attention.

Just in time, he heard the air parting in a way he was familiar with, and turned to the right to see Marigold swinging until she landed next to him.

“Sorry, sorry!” Marigold begged, her hands put together. “It was hard to get away!”

“I've been there before!” Chat Noir replied – she probably had been with her friends when the alert sounded out.

“Took you long enough, newbee!” Scar shouted.

“Uh, look, I'll just skip the concert so I'm not attacked by 'killer guitar solos', LOL,” XY said in that pretentious tone of his. “Live concerts are lame anyway, just leave it to special effects.”

“YOINK!”

It looked like this Akuma liked to be timed, because he jumped in just as XY finished speaking and dragged him away flying.

“AH!” the younger singer yelled.

“XY!”

“Aw, I just got here!” Marigold complained, as the three of them ran after the Akuma.

----

As they climbed up the Tour Eiffel (how many times had they fought an Akuma here already?), they could hear the Akuma and his target yelling from the top of the tower.

“I believe you called me Ragged Stone?! King of the dinosaurs?! A HAS-BEEN?!” Guitar Villain shouted as he forced a tied-up XY to walk the plank, while the draconized Fang flew around.

“I-I was joking!” XY replied, a tad desperate. “Please, M. Guitar Villain! We could do a duet together! In your style!”

“TOO LATE! I'll show you killer music! Seismic Solo!”

The sudden chord of struendous music shook up the entire tower – including the part where the three heroes were as they moved up. Marigold and Chat Noir flapped their arms in an attempt to not lose their balance, while Scarlet Lady just gripped one of the steel beams.

“H-Hurry up, sidekicks! XY is going to fall!” the latter shrieked above Guitar Villain's 'music'.

“D-Did you forget the dragon guarding the tower?” Chat Noir shouted back.

“So deal with him, too!”

“And what does that leave for you?” Marigold asked, angry.

“Obviously, it leaves me to suck up to XY!”

“What?”

----

Marigold noticed that the dragon had seen them, and was ready to dive against them, to either eat or capture them.

She had better things to do, though, and this was still Fang, so she knew how to stop him. The moment he approached, she swung from her perch and threw her top so the rope would twist around his mouth – and allow her to jump on his head.

“MARIGOLD!” Chat Noir shouted: she could see that he and Scarlet were hanging from his staff, hooked between crisscrossed beams.

“There, there, nice dragon!” she calmed Fang as she forced him in the right direction. “Let's go get our kitty!”

----

“Whoa...” he said. If his heart didn't belong to Marinette already...

“Show off,” Scar muttered, the hypocrite.

Marigold guided Fang to fly between beams and below them both, and with perfect timing he shrunk his staff, allowing him to drop right behind Marigold.

“You're awesome,” he said, awed, as he squeezed her shoulders, and she gave him a smug smile.

“GET ME OFF THIS CRAZY THING!” Scar yelled.

Nobody cared.

As Marigold made a pass above the platform, he and Scar jumped down as Guitar Villain aimed at Marigold.

“Hold still and get off my dragon!” the Akuma screamed, while Marigold stuck her tongue at him.

“Now, Scar,” he ordered.

“Lucky Charm.”

The ladybugs flew out of the yo-yo, and formed a large spray can that fell on Scar's hand.

“Extreme holding spray? But my hair is already perfect,” Scar asked, confused.

“Oh! I have an idea!”

“AH!” Scar yelled, shocked at Marigold's sudden reappearance, while he became concerned with something else.

“What happened to the dragon?!”

“Um...” Marigold mumbled. “I took care of it, that's the part that matters!”

----

Marigold grabbed the can and ran at Guitar Villain, who was swinging his head to the beat of his own music.

“Too bad the heroes are gonna miss the finale!Seismic Solo!”

Before he could fire his attack, though, Marigold fired the spray, timing it so most of it would be over his face.

“Yoink!” she said, grinning, as she pulled the guitar out of his hands and dropped it to the ground.

“Agh! I can't see!” the Akuma yelled: with most of his long hair now fixed in front of his face, it blocked his line of sight.

“Um, hey, help me please!” XY begged, and Marigold threw her top once more, tying the rope around him.

“I gotchu!” she said, pulling him towards her with just the force she needed to make him land on top of the guitar that was holding the butterfly.

“Ow!”

“Thanks for your assist!”

“Watch how you treat my XY, Marimold!” Scarlet shouted.

----

After Scar purified the butterfly and Jagged Stone recovered from his foray into unwilling villainy, there was one thing he and Marigold had left to do.

“Bien Joué!” they said, bumping their fists with a smile.

“Aw, geez, what did I do to deserve all this?” XY asked.

“Oh, my poor XY! I'm so sorry for how my lackies treated you!” Scar simpered in front of XY. “I'll make it up to you, promise!”

“Huh?!” XY did seem to have the proper reaction to Scar's abhorrent admiration, which was to keep away from her. “This dude's crazy! You're crazy! I'm going home!”

“Oh!” Scar, once again, showed her complete inability to read the room. “I can take you down!”

“I'm taking the elevator, you freak!” XY yelled, running for the elevator before Scar could try to 'help' him.

It felt a bit awkward.

----

As she saw Scarlet leave with a pout for not being allowed to hold XY, it triggered something.

GAH! That reminds me, I have work to do! And homework! And I have to text Luka! And figure out a cover story! AHHHHH!

Behind her, her Chat Noir and Jagged ignored her freakout while the latter signed an autograph.

----

The next day, Marinette brought the cover she had worked during the morning, and this time Jagged smiled.

“Aw, yeah! That's the shi–!”

“JAGGED! Language!” Penny warned him, as he held the cover closer.

“And... is that leather and sweat?!” he asked, surprised.

“Ah, yes! I made a scented sticker!”

“Crazy. Awesome. Perfect.”

“Not perfect!” Roth yelled. “It's not what I–”

“Then I'm out,” Jagged interrupted.

“What?!”

“I'm sure another record company will take number 2 in sales,” the rocker taunted. Marinette watched everything with a bit of awkwardness.

Why didn't you threaten this in the first place? she pondered.

But, well, it had been a success!

----

As the elevator door opened, Joanne saw the young lady that had come by the previous day waiting to enter. She nodded at her – client or not, if she was here then she had to be important – and left, while the young lady entered and pushed the button for the entrance floor. She breathed for a moment, ready to continue her job –

“WOHOO! I can't believe it!”

“Wohoo!”

Good Lord, they nearly gave her a heart attack! (And who was that second voice, anyway?!)

----

Next day, she brought her copy of the new cover – signed by Jagged Stone! – to school, and showed it off to Alya.

“Congrats, girl! And thanks for the footage!” Alya said, smiling.

“Hee, hee!” she giggled, still giddy about her success.

“Um, hey, Marinette?”

“Hey, Adrien!” she said, turning to her friend, who was blushing a bit and holding a magazine with Jagged Stone in the cover.

“I saw you made Jagged Stone's album cover.” He pulled out a pen. “Could I... get your autograph?”

She blushed, feeling her jaw drop.

“M–Me?!”

Before she could react, Lila and Sabrina jumped between them both.

“Ooo, me too, me too!” Lila exclaimed.

“Hey!” Adrien complained as he was pushed back by the girls.

“What was Jagged Stone like?!” Sabrina asked, her eyes wide and luminous.

That seemed to attract everyone else's attention, and soon poor Adrien was forced away as their classmates crowded around Marinette.

“Will you sign my magazine?!” Rose asked.

“I can say I knew you 'back then'!” Kim shouted.

Marinette felt embarrassed for the attention she was suddenly getting.

“G-Guys!”

----

Chloé growled as she bit into her copy of the magazine she had bought. Instead of her XY – who had been really confused the previous day, what with him running away from her – it had Jagged Stone and his new album on it.

And the worst of it was, the only reason Ragged Stone had met Maribrat was last week's work experience day! She should have sent her to garbage disposal with Césaire!

“You got your lunch?”

“Yeah, hold on.”

She turned – and there he was! Along with his sister – which was a surprise, because she didn't know how someone as cute and cool as him was related to her – he was pushing his bike.

“Wanna say hi?”

“Sure, I got time.”

Oh, he was here to meet her!

Just what the doctor ordered!

----

“Mon Chouka, you came to see me!”

He turned to look at her. Who was running at him with her arms wide open.

“Wait until you hear about my morning–”

No.

Nope.

Fuck nope.

He extended his arm and grabbed her face to keep her as far away from him as possible.

Fortunately, the other person he had come to speak with came out.

“Marinette! Congrats on the album!” he greeted her, smiling, even as he struggled with her.

“Ah–!” she tried to speak, but he kept gripping her without a care for what she had to say.

“'Mon Chouka'?” Juleka asked, clearly about to laugh at him.

“Don't you fucking dare,” he told her. He knew she was going to hold it over his head for a long time, but at least he could keep her from mocking him in front of everyone else.

----

Princess Fragrance

@zoe-oneesama The real has-been here is Hawkmoth, right?

I'm sleeeeeeeeepyyyyyyyy... zzzzzzzzz...

[omegaremix]

High Score Pinball + Game On; Spring 2021 & Spring 2022.

If you were an Eighties child, the video game was the pinnacle of your childhood. On Saturdays, my dad took me to the toy store where I sprinted to the game wall, have me choose any stamped ticket and hand it over the counter to customer service where they stocked all the solid state cartridges in the back. They’d hand me the game of choice and I was golden until next week. If I was lucky, he’d take us to Nunley’s Carousel in Baldwin where it was the final time in my life I’d play old electromagnetic machines and driving games that ran on paper sheets - and even film reels and plastic parts (Atari’s F1). We’d also go to Nathan’s in Oceanside. It, too, had an arcade there. Once we came back from his dietician or from my half-sister in Bensonhurst, he ended up taking the whole family for sit-in Chinese and to the Nellie Bly Amusement Park where for one time only I played Atari’s Superman and Hercules pinball tables.

Sunday was an even bigger event. My pop would drive from (also) Bensonhurst all the way out to Long Island where my family and I lived. He’d arrive anywhere between noon to 1PM and stay for an hour before taking me to the South Shore Mall. I’d have the luxury of two hours and $5.00 worth of quarters to play as many games as I could. Roadblasters, Space Harrier, Chase HQ, Marble Madness, skee ball - you name it, they had it, I played it. Pop would break it up and take me to The Emporium (later becoming Nathan’s and after that a sushi house that closed down in 2010) where they also had an arcade itself. Same time limit, same amount of pocket change. The neighborhood delis and convenience stores also had arcade and pinball machines where I clearly remember playing Seicross, Legion, Double Dragon, Ninja Gaiden, Shinobi, and other games too many to mention. I had the best of both worlds at home and beyond. By the time my grade-school years ended, I replenished the game collection my dad once sold for $50.00 and more thanks to my Dallas aunt and uncle. 

The Brentwood era just started for me and Pop had a heart attack while watching the game. He woke up out of it but later relapsed and that was the end for him. I had to take it upon myself to ride my bike to the mall or the pizzeria in the local shopping center behind the middle school to get my Neo-Geo, Super Monaco GP, or Mortal Kombat fix. With reward came risk: Brentwood wasn’t a safe neighborhood compared to the others. Every day I worried about random newjacks and youngbucks coming up to me for handouts just for being seen. Seven or eight kids waiting their turn surrounded the Street Fighter machines at any one of three stores out of fifteen who had them; some even got jumped and assaulted over them because they were caught cheating. Chain-snatchers got the unsuspecting kids when their backs were turned, and even the resting bitch-faces came up to entice me to fight their boyfriends who tried stealing my bike.

As time went by, I moved on from the scummy parts. Visits to the arcades became less frequented no matter at the mall or the amusement park. The carousels and hot dog places went out of business. Console gaming, however, kept going with the Genesis, SNES, Dreamcast, and Playstation throughout my community college and Stony Brook era. I discovered MAME and VPinball so I could stay in touch with myself. I kept it all going until I was sick of dozing off and throwing my time away while my friends, co-workers, and associates made the best of theirs. I finally moved on from gaming, and all the best for it.

It was more than ten years since I played a game of pinball. The Sopranos to be exact. Almost no place on the island where one was to be found. But that all changed last spring when the Video Game Trading Post opened up Long Island’s very first pinball arcade in the South Shore Mall / Westfield. I was stunned and paralyzed. We never asked for it, let alone couldn’t even imagine happening, but we got it. We lost Manhattan’s Modern Pinball and Greenpoint’s Sunshine Laundromat was never the same after the pandemic, so having the arcade return (to the very place where it all started for me and not having to travel to the city for it) was the pale-skinned redheaded Godiva riding on the fucking horse.

It was amazement at first sight. I enter the mall and the sounds emanating from the dark space tells me I’m close. I finally found it. My soul pushed back because I couldn’t believe it. I walk in and the darkness swallowed me in as all the flashing lights, LEDS, and the brightly-lit back-panels fight to be noticed. For $25.00, sometimes $35.00, it was all-you-can-play. I walk around in the dark vortex and the place was huge of its concrete flooring and aromatic wood smell. All three Black Knight tables, all three Pinbots, both Firepowers, Bank Shot, Evel Knievel, Harlem Globetrotters, Tron Legacy, even Police Force when it was at Vinardo’s. I spotted Big Guns, a game I remember from my Nintendo childhood. To my amusement, it was real having to find that Slugfest returned to the exact same mall I played at during the Brentwood era. The best part? Learning that both High Speed and Nine Ball would make their stay. It would make that next return trip all the more urgent. High Speed was the very first machine I ever scored a million on, let alone three. And Nine Ball? The overall design and sound effects of it was a personal must-play for me.

All throughout last Spring and Summer I’d make the effort to be the first one there and the last one to leave. Noon to 8PM. I made one final trip to High Score- before the year was over, leaving it behind in its former incarnation forever. It’s now half of what it used to be. The other half is now home gaming and memorabilia. I knew it would never be as good after when I first found it and won’t expect it to be better. But I’ll never, ever forget it - just like I’ll never forget the ride to Williamsburg’s Rough Trade, the post-punk / d.i.y. and jazz-fusion finds, the Jewish girl from Queens with the straight shoulder-length hair and green eyes who asked me if I had a copy of KIDS, or the two pale gingers with brown eyes I spent forever with at my store. Another day, another payout.

The alignments had another card up its sleeve. The King of Diamonds would be super-ceded by the Ace. The Boy Harsher show was less than two weeks away and I had to visit the Smithhaven Mall to find me a leather jacket and black hat. I walked out with the hat but no jac-. And, as I was walking out, something caught my eye: a shiny colorful array of neon lights. I stop to look at my right and there it was: a new video arcade I never knew existed. I was shut. I step in and to my immediate right was Baby Pac-Man: a cabinet shaped like an upright with a CRT monitor and small pinball playfield below it. It was a machine I only read about but was curious to seek out. Now, here it is. But, I couldn’t go any further as entry was roped off. But I see the sign at the front desk: $20.00 free play all day. It’s 3PM, I wouldn’t get my money’s worth. But I owed it to myself to come back and visit, and visit I did.

The following Wednesday I came back at noon and paid the frail emo casualty up front my $20.00. Does he have any idea what he’s doing here or what this is all about? He wouldn’t care, really. He’s only here to collect and will elicit a fake half-enthusiastic “oh, uh…that’s cool!” when asked. I’m here to revisit my Atari / Nintendo childhood. Eight hours and no time to waste. Let’s have it.

I walk in and there’s three Pac-Man machines grouped together: the 1980 original that became the first-ever character franchise, Baby Pac-Man and Super Pac-Man. Across from it is Ms. Pac-Man. How shameful they couldn’t include her in the boys’ club. There were vector games in Tempest, Lunar Lander, Asteroids, and Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back in super-sharp and blindingly bright on original CRT monitors. There was Gorf, arguably my very first arcade memory living in Brooklyn. Classics such as Centipede, Marble Madness and Spy Hunter which I haven’t played in its true form since forever. Defender, Robotron 2084, and Berzerk rounded out three of four parts of the Williams epic (Blaster was the fourth). Moon Patrol, Galaxian, Zaxxon, Gyruss, Phoenix, Dig Dug, Vanguard, and Missile Command - games I played endlessly on the home system - were there. Crystal Castles, one I always played on the Atari 2600, felt super-frantic and ultra-responsive on my first time ever playing it. Pengo and Mr. Do! - two games I remember my sis- B-Bomb telling me about - were finally crossed off the must-play list.

I found two extremely rare Nintendo Vs. red tents and with that came Donkey Kong, Donkey Kong Jr., Donkey Kong 3, Punch Out, Popeye, and the original Super Mario Bros. which I always used to play at the neighborhood deli (thanks ma’). Even more impressive was the fact that they had Playchoice machines when the South Shore Mall had them. I walk further and there’s Bad Dudes and the first Double Dragon: agonizingly slow and sluggish as fuck like I remembered it.

There’s driving games such as Super Sprint, Crazy Taxi, Chase HQ, and The Cruisin’ series. But, none more important than Sega’s Hang-On and Outrun, one which my younger bro- and I fought over to play first when our parents took us to the ice cream parlor. Next to those were Virtua Cop and Point Blank which I had zero interest playing because it wasn’t Cheyenne.

Konami, known for some of the best multi-player titles ever, made their presence felt with Super Contra, The Simpsons, Sunset Riders, X-Men, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles; the final being the gateway and the token example of nostalgia. There was the fighters’ row: Mortal Kombat II, Virtua Fighter, Tekken 4, Killer Instinct, Marvel Vs. Capcom 2, and Street Fighter II; that final one the basis of my early Brentwood years hanging out in dangerous neighborhoods and being harassed by the youngbucks in pizzerias for quarters. How about not one, not - fuck it - four Neo-Geo MVS’s with such games as Metal Slug 4, Ninja Warriors, Fatal Fury 2, and Samurai Shodown all plugged in and more. Three of those four aforementioned Neo-Geo games all happened during various points of my Brentwood era, coincidentally at the same shopping center as the pizzeria and that down-low mom-and-pop video store in Central Islip.

There were pinball tables such as Spider-Man, Stranger Things, and Star Wars: Episode 1, but couldn’t ever compare to what High Score used to have. Foosball, (a rare) Super Chexx, a Ms. Pac-Man & Galaga cocktail machine, and even Alley Cats: a shuffleboard-slash-bowling hybrid were found. Never played anything like it. Sports-themed uprights in NBA Jam, NHL Ice, and Blades Of Steel which I played all of three minutes before walking away from it and headed for Arkanoid: Revenge Of Doh. I was even taken back by seeing games I never knew existed: Warp Warp and Lady Bug. And finally…Smash TV. I wasted an hour of my valuable life on cheap deaths and repetitious gameplay. I’ll never ever recommend it.

I look above and there was a scoreboard with all the high scores and initials written in chalk. Twin Galaxies this wasn’t and thankfully there were no Billy Mitchell sightings. Another thing up above us was a mural of Blaze, Axel, and Adam of Sega’s Streets Of Rage, deemed one of the best and most successful side-scrolling beat ‘em-ups ever. Further back of the arcade I found a bar set-up and a big projector screen behind it for anyone wanting to play Mario Kart on the big-screen. I looked hard enough to find authentic original operator’s manuals of Jungle Hunt, Centipede, Xevious, Asteroids, and Missile Command framed and hung on the wall. I also laserdiscs also framed and hung on the wall near the arcades storefront. Flashdance, License To Drive, Vision Quest, and - I kid you not - Dirty Dancing. Which reminded me…where the hell were Dragon’s Lair and Space Ace? And no Eighties’ fantasy world wouldn’t be complete without at least two small CRT TV’s set up to play Super Mario Bros. 3 and E.T. It was the perfect set-up found in millions of kid’s rooms everywhere. And they still weren’t done.

The one thing Game On had that High Score Pinball didn’t, and this is the major validator here, was the Eighties soundtrack streamed on the overhead. High Score- only had the natural sound of licensed one-liners, PCBs, electromagnetics, and solid states emanating all the bells and hard solenoid knocks of free games. Only once had they brought out a portable speaker blasting Ozzy’s Nineties hits and alternative. Not Game On. Every song was an unforgettable Eighties throwback. It had to be to fit within the nostalgic theme of gaming’s wonder years of the very-late Seventies to the mid-Nineties.

The Seventies will always be something I’ll explore because it’s a decade I mostly missed out on. Exploring and discovering obscure jazz / fusion, soul, groove, and the hits are all a product of my fascination with hip-hop and rap’s sampling culture, console gaming, money shows, chyrons, station i.d.’s, production logos, opening and closing credits, and promos-. The Eighties were different because I lived through them 100% and still remember it clear as day. I can appreciate new wave, synthpop, the new romantics, Billboard hits, freestyle, radio plays, hair metal, and anything else I listened to as part of my Atari / Nintendo childhood. The arcade’s streaming playlist (could they not afford a cassette player?) was paired with the many original arcade cabinets of their time and served its nostalgic purpose, as intended, to its full unbeatable meaning. 

With almost every song played on the overhead there were more childhood memories that followed them. J. Geils Band’s “Centerfold” was my first-ever music memory when my other half-sister played it constantly on our turntable in our family’s second-floor Borough Park apartment. The night my dad threw the Christmas tree out on the porch and my ma’ taking both my younger brother and I to stay at gramma’s for a few days. Riding in the passenger’s seat of our white rusted ‘78 Cadillac Coupe Deville and the bubbled rainbow that formed at the top of its windshield. Being stuck on the side of the Southern State Parkway heading home as my younger bro- and I rode in the backseat with toy dashboards. The trips in my parents rusty beige Chevy van where its crusty steel interior and the smell of petrichor created a viciously sickening mess. The two ‘79 yellow and blue AMC VAM Pacer X’s my parents had. Hurricane Gloria and the week-long power outage. Friday night’s Miami Vice. Saturday afternoons spent in the basement playing Atari and watching WWF and NWA. Saturday night’s Golden Girls where the whole family died laughing. Sunday’s Long Island pop station WBLI’s Top Ten countdown on public access television. Our babysitter’s daughter who was the cutest thing of curly black hair, dark eyes, and tall stature who smelled like sparkle and white plush. My bro- and I taking apart our ma’s floral-print couches and making pillow forts out of them. Dad’s in-wall Akai eight-track player and the overhead speakers. Easter’s various assortment of sweet-smelling wax crayons and activity books. Nights spent watching New York Yankee games on PIX, New York Rangers on MSG, Night Flight and Dance Party USA. Family dinner night at Enzo’s in Bay Shore for minestrone, calzones, and newspaper clippings of Italy’s World Cup victories. Assholes in Chams tank-tops smoking in their garages while working on their prized ‘77 Trans Ams. Playing NES all night before getting ready to ride to Staten Island at three in the morning to pick up my dad’s side of the family.

The more I played the more I immersed myself back into familiar territory that I haven’t visited in decades. It’s an absolute rarity when all the right authentic elements that used to be come together as one and re-create a near-perfect rendition of what the Eighties felt like. It’s not just the soundtrack, the manuals and laserdiscs that supplanted the setting, but the actual aesthetic itself. See the decals on the side of the cabinets and the built-in one-of-a-kind joysticks and steering wheels. The amazing control panel artwork. Plenty of CRT monitors and their rasterized graphics, scanlines, ripples, burn-in, and scrambled graphical glitches. Buttons, plenty of buttons of all types. And no more having to bang on the steel coin doors when those quarters got jammed. Not a burn mark in sight and the smell of old wood cabinets filled the room - exactly how I remembered it all.

It was nearing 9PM. The trip back in time was about to end and the mall was finally winding down. I had to have one last game in before having to walk off memory lane and say goodbye. That idiot kid wasn’t there but was replaced by some cute skinny hipster girl punk with pink hair and ladened with piercings, eager to talk to any cliched grown-up punk dad or fading former Gen-X’er wanting to share a story or two about how they missed those simpler days. I’ll never get the spirit and being of the Eighties back, but I no longer miss them now that I have a monthly pilgrimage to Game On. I retire for the night and head out. She unhooks the velvet rope and clears the way for me to leave with a smile.

“Have a good night!” she says. You know I will.

Heart: “Magic Man”

Eddie Money & Ronnie Spector: “Take Me Home Tonight”

Run DMC: “It’s Tricky”

Cutting Crew: “I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight”

Toto: “Africa”

A-Ha: “Take On Me”

Foreigner: “Waiting For A Girl Like You”

Bananarama: “I Heard A Rumor”

Wham: “Wake Me Up Befoe You Go-Go”

Mike & The Mechanics: “Silent Running”

Michael Jackson: “Billie Jean”

Rick Springfield: “Jessie’s Girl”

Bruce Springsteen: “Dancer In The Dark”

Pat Benetar: “Love Is A Battlefield”

J. Geils Band: “Centerfold”

Simple Minds: “Don’t You Forget About Me”

Tommy Tutone: “867-5309 / Jenny”

Cyndi Lauper: “Girls Just Wanna’ Have Fun”

Pointer Sisters: “I’m So Excited”

Starship: “We Built This City”

Steve Winwood: “Higher Love”

Whitney Houston: “I Wanna’ Dance With Somebody”

Survivor: “The Search Is Over”

The Outfields: “I Don’t Wanna’ Lose Your Love Tonight”

Flashdance original motion picture soundtrack

The Romantics: “What I Like About You”

Scorpions: Rock You Like A Hurricane”

Quiet Riot: “Come On (Feel The Noise)”

Pointer Sisters: “I’m So Excited”

Fabulous Thunderbirds: “Tough Enough”

Steve Perry: “Oh Sherrie”

Madonna: “Borderline”

Tiffany: “I Think We’re Alone Now”

Belinda Carlisle: “Mad About You”

Debbie Gibson: “Out Of The Blue”

Phil Collins: “Sssudio”

Lionel Richie: “All Night Long”

RUM DMC & Aerosmith: “Walk This Way”

Rick Astley: “Never Gonna’ Give You Up”

Bananarama: “Cruel Summer”

Cyndi Lauper: “Time After Time”

Kim Carnes: “Bette Davis Eyes”

Sting: “Every Breath You Take”

Heart: “What About Love”

Foreigner: “I Wanna’ Know What Love Is”

Bruce Springsteen: “Jack & Diane”

Mr. Mister: “Take These Broken Wings”

Bangles: “Hazy Shade Of Winter”

Don Henley: “Boys Of Summer”

Dire Straits: “Money For Nothing”

The Cars: “Shake It Up”

Peter Gabriel: “Big Time”

Bon Jovi: “Livin’ On A Prayer”

Allanah Myles: “Black Velvet”

Culture Club: “Karma Chamelion”

Mike & The Mechanics: “All I Need Is A Miracle”

Starship: “Sarah”

Wham: “Wake Me Up (Before You Go Go)”

Billy Ocean: “Caribbean Queen”

[ftm2bbw]

I think it'd be so hot to be your friend and start casually encouraging you to eat more. You obviously don't need it, but it's still nice to have, a friendly voice not judging you when you're still hungry or shrugging it off and saying "It's fine! We can order another bowl of mac and cheese. I'll flag down the waiter." I make little comments here and there about how big your appetite is, occasionally mentioning how bloated your belly gets after a big meal and complimenting your belches.

But it doesn't stop with just encouragement.

After a while, once it fades into background noise, I start pushing. "C'mon, you're almost done! You can finish that bowl, can't you?" "Look, it's just one or two more bites! Gotta get your money's worth." "Eat it."

The forcefulness takes you off guard, startling you back into reality, seeing me holding up a fork full of delivered Chinese food. "Go on. Open your mouth. And eat it." Your tummy gurgles in protest, the waistband of your pants digging into your swollen, bloated body. Every last bit of you is screaming out that you shouldn't do it. Everything except your mouth, already salivating at the sweet and greasy food, and the part of your mind that you try to ignore, that's addicted to getting bigger. I bring the fork in closer, the scent filling your nose and making your eyes flutter. Your belly gurgles again, but this time you can't tell if it's pushing back against the food or crying out for it.

"Open."

Dutifully, as the food brushes against your lips, your mouth opens wide, letting me push the fork inside, tilting it forward and letting the foot spill onto your tongue. The flavors send pleasure coursing through your body, chewing instinctively. "That's it. Eat up. You want to get bigger, don't you? You're doing such a good job. Aaaand... Swallow." The command is so easy to follow, the muscles of your neck tightening, pulling the food down into your gluttonous, greedy stomach. It's uncomfortably full but in the best possible way. "Open up, let me see." Your puffy, fatty cheeks and your fatty chin/neck (they're really melded into one) don't allow your mouth to open far, but it's just enough for me to look inside and see that every scrap is inside you. "There we go! Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

You deserve a reward, setting the fork aside so I can play with your rotund belly with both hands. I glide across the soft skin, exploring every inch, even sticking my finger into your belly button and curling my fingers under your belly apron. I even reach up and give your udders a little squeeze, making sure your boobs aren't neglected. A haze of pleasure settles into your mind, making you whimper pathetically as my hands move away. You hear the telltale sound of plastic cutlery scraping along the sides of a takeout container, scooping up a bit more fried rice. Just as before, I hold it up to your lips, knowing that you're even more full now than you were with your last bite.

"Come on. Just one more bite. I know you can do it for me."

Mmm, it really doesn't take much to convince me to eat more. I'm very suggestible. A comment here, a belly pat there, it's all too easy to give in and mindlessly eat.

Naturally, it would only grow easier over time. Just dropping into that complacent space, where nothing matters beyond eating and obeying. Even if my belly aches it wouldn't stop me, all I'd be able to think about is more.

And of course, even at my breaking point, enough attention to my belly and my tits would keep me eating. The pleasure would be far, far too good to resist. Always just one more order, one more bite, one more pound. More, more, more...

And heh, my neck is already gone at this point. All I have is double chin now, let alone as I get even fatter.

[kabannoneko]

Game Thoughts: The Rewinder by Misty Mountain Studio

I was supposed to post this review right after writing it on stream, but then I forgot about it.

Anyway, we put this on our Steam wishlist ever since I got into this Chinese point-and-click game fixation. And at some point, we decided to buy it (despite having a lot of other games in our backlog).

I did not regret it. - Kochan

What’s It All About?

You play as Yun, the last of the Rewinders, people who are given the ability to alter timelines by delving into spirits’ memories. One day, Mr. Black and Mr. White give you an assignment: to investigate a strange happening in Reed River Village, where several people have been stuck outside of the reincarnation cycle. When you get there, you soon find out that this first assignment of yours is more complicated than it seems.

World/Character/Story Development

At first, I thought this would be a typical saving people from a big problem sort of thing, but it breaks my expectations from the main character, Yun, alone. I would go so far as to say that he’s a pretty interesting character.

For one, I thought he would be the dutiful kind of guy, but it turns out, he’s more pragmatic, I guess? The reason he works for the gold from Mr. Black is to just have something shiny on display, not even for something to buy. (Then again, if you think about it, gold ingots don’t have any value in the Underworld, and therefore wouldn’t have any value to him, who was raised his whole life in the Underworld.)

He also has quite a bit of sass, which I like, and it’s blended with a bit of naivete as well. Being raised in the Underworld, he has almost no idea of how things work above ground.

I also find it interesting that even though he probably has a different set of priorities from the average human, he’s still pretty human. Like, he can still die, he gets hurt, and he also feels some insecurity regarding his abilities/duty as a Rewinder. And for me, that makes him pretty relatable.

It’s not just him who’s interesting, all the other characters have their own charm. And for something that deals with spooky stuff, even actually scary stuff, there’s a lot of love involved in this story.

You see a lot of relationships between people, most being romantic in nature, a few friendships, and even familial ones. And it’s nice that when you go back in time, you get to see how these relationships develop.

If you think about it, the problems in-game happen whenever these relationships are torn apart. For example, if Ash goes out without bringing Amber along, Amber eventually becomes a victim and becomes a resentful spirit. Another example would be Rusty becoming a beggar and eventually dying to the Yaoguai because he was ashamed of going back to his mother.

And in a way, solving the problems and altering timelines involves reconciling these relationships. Even Yun and Light go through something like it, despite being the main characters.

I guess that’s what makes this game beautiful for me.

Graphics

From the moment you open up the game, you’re treated to lovely pixel art. You’ve got scenic views reminiscent of those Chinese ink landscapes, and I love how they sometimes make use of foreground and background layers that move along with you.

It’s also worth noting that we played this windowed, and even then, you could still recognize objects. One set of objects that really made me realize this would be the animal stones when you go in this cave maze. You could tell for the most part what animal they are even if you don’t look at them up close.

Related to this, I also like that important things that you can pick up or interact with are highlighted without being too obvious that it would stand out like a sore thumb. Some hints are also visible but subtle.

Audio

The title screen alone has really good music (should I call it pretty???) and I knew from that point on, I was going to have a good time listening to the soundtrack. And it was even reinforced by the little tinkling sound when I moved the cursor between the options in the main menu.

All the themes and tracks are pretty nice, and my favorites are the theme for the Ghost Market (SUCH A BOP), and the music that plays while you’re exploring the cave maze and setting up the spell (this one makes good use of local instruments). The ending song is also something that you may not want to skip as the credits roll, kind of like that song for Devotion.

The worst part, though, is that the audio tends to reset to its default levels whenever you open up the game.

Gameplay

For the most part, it’s your usual point-and-click. You move your character by either using WASD or clicking with the mouse. Then you click on certain objects of interest with the mouse (the cursor changes depending on what it’s hovering on, which is nice.)

Sometimes you get dialogue choices, but it’s not that much of a dilemma, as most of them aren’t really choices per se, but questions of some sort. Some choices also lead to the same result anyway, so nothing too puzzling.

And speaking of puzzles… They’re the meat of the gameplay, the problem and puzzle-solving. I like that the devs had this in mind, as they made the puzzles challenging enough to make sure you pay attention to details and notes (some of which are given by the game) but not too difficult that you’d give up entirely.

The kind of puzzle that stands out as unique in this game is the memory stages, where you change the timeline by influencing what people do. And you don’t do it by actually moving things around. You do it by getting potential motivators and giving it to the right people at the right time.

It’s nice that you can start a section of the stage over in case you mess up, lessening the frustration of having to redo the whole thing from the start. Also, after you beat the game once, you can revisit stages and get flowers that you haven’t, since those are key to the secret good ending.

The worst puzzles for me, personally, were the rewind shrine puzzles because you have to do everything in reverse. Also, there’s the spinning wheel puzzle, which took me a few tries, and also the quick time events with the big spider, who killed me a few times as well.

Overall

It’s a beautiful game, with charming characters, lovely art and music, and solid gameplay. I would recommend it to anyone who is into point-and-clicks and loves lore and how things and events are intertwined. It also presents a good challenge, puzzle-wise, and makes you think quite a bit.

Pros

Great story and characters

Beautiful art and music (love the songs)

Challenging enough puzzles that aren’t too likely to make you ragequit, with enough hints to help you progress by yourself

Has some replay value

Cons

Audio resets to default loudness whenever you start it up

(If you’re going to stream it) it stops when you go outside the game

You can get it on Steam.

[moon-catto]

Hi I reader ur fic about the Gojo x reader that was based on the hanahaki disease

This is what I found on Google for it : Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

If u accept requests can u plz plz plz make part 2 where gojo finds the cure that is surgical removal and reader woke up but loses her romantic feelings for Satoru. That worsens Gojo's disease more and he tries his best to get reader reciprocate same feelings but it takes months for that cause reader can't remember a single thing about loving him. Angst with happy ending plz . I really need a part 2 only if u accept requests

I Know I Love You

Part I | Part II

Summary: Satoru found a cure to save you. But will it be worth it?

Warning: Angst with happy ending.

Sorry for the long reply, I'm struggling to write the next part because I don't like how it turned out and re-do it for the hundredth times. I hope this one will do you some justice sksksks.

I listen to these two songs while writing. I live for IAN's aesthetics.

Masterlist

Satoru blinked. His eyes heavy because of the drowsiness currently overtaking his body. But the first thing he feels is not the blanket he used to sleep, the foreign texture that grazed his skin immediately made his eyes opened wide in shock. The blinding light above him stings his sensitive eyes so he squinted his eyes while pushing his body off the... Ground?

His brilliant orbs scanning the surrounding in confusion with a bit of panic mixed in between. He's in a middle of a vast wheat field with wild flowers peeking here and there.

He turned his body to see anything else but to no avail, he walked in some random directions to further investigate this strange place.

He never been in this place but the warmth air and the beautiful sky is somewhat comforting. The sun is setting at the end of the horizon, painting the sky in a perfect mix of purple and golden colors. The subtle smell of flowers is calming as the wind blows by him softly, playing with the collar of the white shirt he wore.

Is this a dream?

He thought as he continues to wander around. Hours may have passed, yet the field keeps going on— he couldn't find the end of it even with the Six Eyes superior ability.

'Satoru.'

A throb to his chest. Your soft voice piercing into his ears and soul like a needle.

The winds blows while carrying the flower petals. A sweet familiar scent entering his nose as he feels a present nearby.

He turned his head to the side and found you standing in the middle of the wheat field not far from him in a flowy white dress. Your back faced him but he would never mistake you for someone else.

It's almost an instinct for him to run after you, he doesn't care even if it's a sweet trap prepared to trick him. His yearnings and longing for you is too much for him to handle, he can't think about anything else but you and you alone—his sun and moon, his beloved friend and the woman who owned both his heart and soul.

His first and last love.

The pain in his heart hurting more in each steps he took, he ignored it. He might die before he reached you but it's okay. He just needs to have one final glance at you.

His breathing is ragged when his arms pulled your wrist towards him—your dress moved gently following his movements.

You were taken aback by his sudden action, it was shown on the shock painted on your beautiful face. Your eyes gazed him with wide eyes.

Oh, it was beyond beautiful. You're wearing a flower crown made with cotton flower bud on your head, and you're so, so, so very beautiful that it hurts him right in his heart. He's speechless.

"Sa... Toru?"

His name rolled off from your red lips like a poem, he longed to hear his name from you even if your sweet voice torned his heart apart, torturing him with immense pain that knees shook and tears falling to stain his cheeks.

"What are you— oh! Why are you crying?" You hurriedly cradle his face, his eyes fluttered close at the gentle touch of your hands. Tears keeps flowing from his eyes like endless waterfall, he keeps on weeping like a five year olds but he paid that no mind. He doesn't care if you took him for a crybaby. All he cared is the fact that you are here with him.

It's already more than enough for him.

"Satoru, please don't cry." He sobbed softly while you keep wiping off his warm tears with such tenderness, he melted in your hand. Like a piece of wax under the burning sun, he would let himself completely ruined for you if you wanted him to.

He'd gladly do so.

His hands trembling, cold in contrast with your warmth. He brought your palms to his lips, kissing every skin available, tasting his own tears on your pristine skin.

"Satoru!" You became flustered on that. You tried to release your hand but he doesn't budge. His grip on you is gentle but firm as if he afraid of breaking you if he hold you tighter yet also afraid you'd disappear if he loosen it.

You noticed the solemness in his eyes, his tears hid a bitter pain as they glided over your arms. You never seen him in so much pain like this before.

"Satoru.." Your voice is filled with concern as he keeps pulling more of your hand to place gentle kiss on your skin, like a sinner begging for forgiveness to his goddess.

"Hey," you gently caressed his cheek and he looked at you, still with tears coming out of his blue eyes. "What's wrong?"

He puts on a sad smile. He doesn't deserve your pity or sympathy, he feels sick when his heart bursted with warm at the worried look on your pretty face.

He should've just died.

"Just missed you so much." His smile turned gentler, it's so painful but so pretty at the same time. His heart throbbed when you gazed at him curiously. He found your expression is so endearing and he can't help but adore you even if it made the thorn in his heart keeps growing bigger.

"Why," you began softly. "I thought you'd hate me."

He shook his head too quickly to his liking. "How can I hate you." He whispered. "If anything, you should be the one who hate me." He admitted with guilt evident in his face. "I'm not even worthy to ask for your forgiveness." He begins sobbing again, his cries pained your heart and you unconsciously pulled him closer into your embrace. His tall and big stature made it hard for you to fully hug him but you tried your best to comfort him by rubbing his back.

"It's not your fault." This time you're the one who shook your head. "I should've not fallen for you when I know you don't want my heart." You whispered back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you so much like this. I'm sorry." You whispered your apology to him and he hugged you back with trembling arms. Tight and fragile, he holds you like you are a delicate piece of flower. Even if it's only a dream, he doesn't want to let you go. He'll gladly stay in this dream if it means he can be with you longer.

The sensation of you is very vivid. The warmth of your body, your sweet scent, the softness of your dress, and your soft voice. His senses filled with your essences that feels both delightful and painful. Each movement of yours brings him joy and misery, but he grasped it all because he wants all of you for him. He's greedy when it comes to you, he'll take the pain and pleasure of being with you until his damned soul slowly perished under the intense torture. He'd reset the time and did everything again, just to be with you.

So he braced himself.

"What if..." He mumbles on your skin. "If... I want your heart?"

Your whole body tensed, the needle stabbed a bit deeper.

You tried to comprehend his words. You looked down to see him nuzzling his head deeper to your neck.

"It's okay if you refuse to give it to me." He chuckles darkly. He hold his breath when his heart began throbbing quickly, the pain burning through every veins in his body that he wanted to scream because of how excruciating it feels. "I don't deserve it in the first place."

"What... What do you mean?" You cupped his face and found him smiling. Despite the tears welling up in his eyes, you can see the starstruck gaze in his beautiful eyes. Adoration, pain, sadness, and then... Love.

"I love you." He breathlessly said. "I'm sorry I'm late to realize it." The flower bud in his chest began to blooms when your eyes became glassy. Ah, he made you cried.

"Sorry." He wiped your tears before it felt. His calloused skin touched your skin hesitantly before he inhaled sharply because of the pain. "Sorry I put you in this state."

"Satoru, you—" You watched in horror as his chest began to bleed. Blood also coming out of his lips, staining his pretty smile.

"Don't worry." He stopped your hands from touching his chest. "I'm fine. It's okay, I'm used to it." He said and you cried harder at the cruel realization.

You have cursed him with that damned disease.

He cupped your face with loving gaze. "It's just, I'm so happy to see you that i— ah," he chuckled when the flower branck began to surge out from his chest, a bloody flower with the same color of your iris.

"SATORU!" you hugged his cold figure harder. Your heart broke and broke down further. You thought your one sided love is the most painful, but this. Nothing can beat this kind of pain.

"I love you so much." He told you again. "Thank you for loving me and give me the chance to feel how to love someone." He kissed your forehead, blood dripping from his chin and stained your skin, then mixed with your tears that stained your white dress. "Loving you... Is the best decision I've ever made, Y/N."

"Don't do this to me." You clings on his shirt harder and wrinkle his shirt.

"Ah, you ruined my shirt too back then." He laughed at the bitter memory. "I wish I can say that I love you that time..."

He put his forehead on yours. Feeling the warmth of your skin to his cold one again. The feeling of love.

"Don't cry, Y/N." He brushed your hair behind your ears. "it'll be okay. You'll be okay when you wake up."

"How do you know?" You looked at him with blurry eyes and trembling lips.

"I know so." He mumbles softly. "You won't feel a thing. I promise."

"What?!"

The scenery began to fade and you're scrambled to hold him when the wind started to blow harder.

"Ah, I forget to tell you." Satoru smiled at you, a teasing glint appeared on his eyes.

You opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out as everything slowly disappear in a blinding light.

Satoru leaned closer to your ear.

"You look so beautiful in this dress."

"....?"

".... Up!"

".... She's waking up!"

A gasp escaped your lips. The surrounding around you became blurry as your consciousness began to build up. Someone approached you, asking you something but you're unable to understand what they said.

The dream you had before feels very vivid, it left something inside you. You're supposed to feel sad but you can't feel anything beside the void in the middle of your chest.

"You won't feel a thing. I promise."

"Toru..." You whispered his name. His smile flashed before your eyes, the feeling of his body near you and his gentle voice—his confession, everything came up like a storm.

Your vision is getting fuzzier and you pushed yourself from the hospital bed.

"Wait! You need to rest more!" Shoko tried to stop you from leaving, but you're still as stubborn.

"Satoru, I need to see him now."

Satoru is laying on the hospital bed after he passed out earlier. Shoko needs to increase the dosage of his medicine because his condition keeps worsen after you fell into a vegetative state.

He glanced at the sky from the window.

The surgery should be finished by now. He smiled when he's thinking about you finally regained your consciousness. Back living your life without any pain.

Without him.

"Ah, damn it." He cursed while roughly wiped his face.

Ah, he cried again. When it comes to you, he would always cry. If you saw him like this, you might be disappointed on how soft he became.

Just like in the dreams.

The dream ended abruptly. You disappeared first, missing how the flower in his chest bloomed fully and ripped his chest apart before turned into a giant flower tree.

He wonders if he also ended up as a tree in real life...

If I became a tree, will this pain also disappear?

He finally knows the meaning behind your words. You're talking about your own death but you're not showing any emotion at all.

I don't want you to be sad again.

Your death might erase all of your pain. But not mine. He thought to himself. He might go crazy from how much pain you left him.

He's deep in his thoughts when the door opened suddenly. He's about to scold whoever made commotion in his room, but instead he found you there with Shoko's currently helping you to stand.

You're frozen in your place. Satoru is on the hospital bed wearing the patient pajamas. It's a strange sight since usually you'd be the one who laying on the bed with him casually visiting you.

He becomes this sick because of you and your selfish feelings.

Your mouth tremble in an attempt to talk, to say anything. You wanted to come to him, but he beats you to it by running towards you, trapping your weak figure in his tight embrace.

"You're awake..." He whispered. "Thank God, You're awake..." He started to sob and it triggered your eyes to water. A reflex, not based on an emotional impulse because how much tears you've shed, you can't feel anything inside your 'heart'.

Five months later....

You quit being a sorcerer. Having the infection removed means you're not able to feel any emotions left and you're also incapable of producing cursed energy.

Satoru took care of you. All of your expenses is paid by the said man.

"Please don't refuse it." He frowned when you told him that you're going to pay him back once you got a job. "It's the least I can give you."

His love for you grows each day, you can feel it. The glimmering stare he would give you when you talk to him, the excited noises he made when you hold his hand, and you didn't miss the bloody petals that are coming out of his lips every night.

You're not feeling anything, but you're bothered with the increase of the blood that's coming out from him. He becomes thinner and paler because of his anemic episodes. He's dying, What can you do to help him?

"Love him."

You blinked when Shoko told you the answer of your questions.

"But I can't—"

"I know." Shoko grimaced on your answer. "But please try to do so. I checked up on his lungs, the flower is already so big, it's a miracle he's not dead by now."

That brought a frown on your face. You don't want him to die. No. Not after everything he have done for you, you wanted to stay longer with him even if you're living with hollow heart.

You think you feel guilty when you saw him getting sicker everyday. He keeps loving you with all of his heart even if it brings him one step closer to death.

You wished you could love him back, you really do. You're trying your hardest to feel how to love him like you used to. But it was all useless, the void in your heart is permanent.

Please try to do so.

When the night falls, your steps bring you to Satoru's room. You watched him kneeling on the floor, drenched in cold sweat. Blood pooling on the floor with sickening sweet smell of flower.

He turned to see you.

"Y/N..." His eyes glows softly at the sight of you coming closer to his. He lets out a more violent coughing fit not long after, you quickly helped him pulling out a whole flower from his throat before he collapsed to your shoulder. His breath is heavy and ragged.

Your hand is gentle on him, like a light rain on a hot day. You wiped his sweat from his forehead and cradle his face so you can plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Y/N..." He called you in confusion.

"It's okay now." You said to him. "You're going to be okay." You lightly kissed his bloody lips and it took him by surprise.

"I love you, Satoru."

The tender look on your dull eyes made the pounding in his heart became even harder, but not painful at all. Your warmth enveloped his cold body like a soothing blanket and your sweet smile just took over his pain and grief.

"I love you so much." You watched his smile blooms on your words. Beautiful, like a sunshine.

It's okay if I can't feel that intense love for you like I used to. I'll stay beside you until you're bored with me.

Because I always know that I love You.

Waahhh it's finally done!!! I hope you understand what I mean here, like you're unable to feel love for him but you know you love him so much? It's more like you're reminiscing on your past feeling and used that memory to love him in the present. If that makes sense. Anyway I hope you enjoyed this one because I legit crying while writing this.

Masterlist

[harlowsbby]

i don't know if you're taking requests right now (sorry if you are not) but this with jack will make my knees weak🧑‍🦯😩

My Headache 🩷

You’ve been having an attitude all day maybe it was the lack of sleep since you’ve been traveling with Jack all day or the argument the two of you had earlier, all you knew was that you were pissed and weren’t speaking to Jack.

“So she really isn’t talking to you?” Urban laughed and shook his head at the two of you.

You were all currently all in the airport you were walking ahead of Jack and Urban with Neelam while Jack and Urban trailed behind the two of you.

“No we had a little argument earlier and now she’s stuck on not talking to me at all, honestly don’t get into a relationship Urban it isn’t worth the headache.” Urban laughed at the two of you he truly believed everyone was just stressed out and overworked Jack was doing many shows back to back and it was taking it’s toll on everyone.

Once you all got into the Uber that was set to take you back to the hotel you made sure to sit far away from Jack which he didn’t like at all.

“So you’re really not gonna sit by me? Let’s not act like children now Y/N.” Glaring over at Jack you rolled your eyes before facing the window

“What did you do now Jack?” Neelam teased before rubbing your knee she knew you’ve been stressed out lately and the argument you had with Jack earlier that day didn’t help at all.

“I didn’t do anything honestly I’m not even sure how our argument even started or why we were arguing in the first place.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes of course he knew he just wanted to play victim like he always did.

“Well since you want to act like you don’t know I guess I’ll continue to ignore you.” Urban and Neelam ooo’d at your threat to Jack but Jack on the other hand wasn’t having it he hated when you ignored him because you knew how much he loved and adored you and ignoring him wasn’t going to slide with him.

Once inside the hotel Neelam and Urban went to settle down in their hotels while Jack and You walked awkwardly to your shared room, the tension was high but the two of you were both so stubborn to apologize first it was something you were both trying to work on.

You had just finished showering and brushing your teeth you put on your pajamas when you got a message from Neelam asking if you wanted to go get Chinese food with you.

You quickly texted her back saying you were down you went to put on your slides when Jack stopped you. He was laid up in the bed in his white tank top and a pair of gray sweats and God did he look so good you wanted to take him right then and there.

“Uh where are you going baby it’s almost midnight if you’re going out you’re not going alone.”

You kept on ignoring him as you grabbed your purse and made sure you had your mask and hand sanitizer just as you were about open the door Jack stopped you.

“I asked where you were going baby.” You made eye contact with him his blue eyes practically starring into your soul.

“Out with Neelam.” You mumbled and went to squeeze past him but he wasn’t budging his grip was tight but not too tight. He grabbed your neck and turned your face upwards towards him and smashed his lips onto yours.

You didn’t kiss him back at first but when he lowered his hands and squeezed your ass you jumped and yelped making him laugh but you kissed him back you moaned into the kiss as his tongue slipped into your mouth he grinned and started rubbing on your ass but you pulled away making him groan.

“I’m sorry Jack for ignoring you I’ve just been so stressed.”

“It’s okay baby girl I’m the one that should apologize you forgive me baby?” He pouted and you rolled your eyes playfully and pushed him back softly.

“I forgive you Jack but now if you excuse me I’m gonna go get some Chinese food with Neelam.”

“Get me some orange chicken and fried rice.”

“Will do boss will do.” You have Jack one last hug and kiss before leaving. Jack couldn’t help but to grin you gave him the biggest headaches sometimes but you were his headache.

[vvienne]

RANWAN FIC RECS

Absolute Zero by jitterati

Pathologically solitary academic Chu Wanning left behind a life of research to enlist with the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps Jaeger team when giant monsters began to emerge from the Pacific ocean, eager to leave his personal entanglements behind him and join humanity's collective battle against the threat of extinction.

His goal is to build an artificial intelligence that will allow a pilot to operate a Jaeger mech solo - eliminating the need for pilot compatibility and the mortifying ordeal of being totally known by another person, a "neurological handshake" known colloquially as the drift.

He didn't expect his former students to follow him all the way to front line of the war against the kaiju.

Featuring lots of side character interaction, pining, yearning, questions on the nature of personhood, friendship between jerks, people coping badly with loss, snarky AI, and giant robots. Illustrations by Saika & Daru

Husky and his White Kitten Disciple by JustAMoon123

Within a lonely heart, the seeds of hatred start to grow.

-A 2ha Age and Role-Reversal AU.-

NOTE: This Story is Now E Rated!

[Before meeting Chu Wanning, Mo Ran had drawn his power exclusively from the Wood side of his dual Spiritual Root, and his Qi had always glowed green.

Now, only when in battle did it do so, with Bugui’s blade encased in a tyrannical green light.

Outside of battle, like when he set barriers of warmth; or made Crystal Butterflies to tease golden flowers; or cast a small array to keep a box of food warm, his Qi manifested with a gentle red glow.

Mo Ran’s Wood was destructive, while his Fire was protective.

Ah, Mo Weiyu, Mo Weiyu. Even your power betrays you.]

Burn, Pine, and Perish by moonqueenmaia

It’s been two days since Taxian-Jun’s last visit, and Mo Ran hasn’t touched Chu Wanning at all, beyond gentle and fleeting caresses. Chu Wanning decides to take matters into his own hands by surprising Mo Ran when he comes back to their home after a trip down the mountain.

it's no coincidence (it's a kitty-incidence) by lanzhan (gothguk)

There’s a white cat lounging in the middle of Mo Ran's bed.

to touch you with bare hands (even if it burns) by moonqueenmaia

Chu Wanning is a renowned professor of mechanical engineering at Sisheng Peak University. Beautiful, lonely, and talented beyond belief, he has spent his 32 years mostly by himself, silently and secretly yearning for affection and companionship. Yet Chu Wanning has resolved to himself that he will spend the rest of his life alone, no matter his hidden fantasies.

Enter Taxian-jun, an unruly, arrogant, and struggling student, fiery and domineering, who comes in and shatters the calm of Chu Wanning's life. They enter into an agreement, both burying their feelings underneath a storm of lust and lies. Yet amidst it all, something deeper may be helplessly and slowly blooming.

It is up to them to cultivate it, or destroy it for good.

cursed by devilsoupe

Chu Wanning and his disciples are sent to investigate an abandoned village, and Chu Wanning is hit with a curse.

Mo Ran was determined to treat his shizun respectfully in this life, but what choice does he have?

liar liar cock on fire by lofikv

I (32M) walked in on my roommate (23M) masturbating in our living room. Ever since then I couldn't erase the image of his penis in my mind but I found a sex toy online that is almost as big as him, so I bought it and tried it on myself so that I can imagine how he would feel inside me. I have also been romantically attracted to him ever since we started living together. How can I cope with this?

UPDATE: He caught me in the middle of an emergency.

(Absolute) Unit 311 by devilsoupe

Chu Wanning doesn't have a soulmark.

Neither does Mo Ran.

ducks entering highway by Sectionladvivi

Mo Ran finds out his well-respected, MILF-coded, tears-of-angels-tight-ass robotics professor moonlights as an erotic novelist. He immediately leverages this knowledge for an opportunity to play tonsil hockey.

to yearn by devilsoupe

Chu Wanning starts to cough up flowers. Taxian-Jun is angry. Chu Wanning is not allowed to die pining for someone else.

When it starts happening again in his second life, Mo Ran knows enough to worry.

from blossom to blossom to impossible blossom by Wildehack (tyleet)

Taxian Jun is the victim of a flower curse.

sticky fingers by fakeplasticlily

The man tosses the towel unceremoniously back at Mo Ran’s chest, like he’s personally offended by it. And the fact that his hands had just been all over said chest barely minutes earlier, maybe. “Please pack a box of egg tarts with extra custard filling, a box of red bean paste buns with extra syrup, a rice pudding with extra candied fruit garnish, and a box of osmanthus cakes with extra sweet pear jam.” Mo Ran’s eyes grow progressively wider as he lists the items. It’s him. Not the suburban mother of four, not the elderly guy dealing with a midlife crisis, but quite possibly the hottest guy he’s ever seen. Who also happens to have the highest sugar tolerance Mo Ran has seen in a human being in his two years of running this bakery. 

Hard to Love The Lonely Night by bloodsongs

Chu Wanning glares up at him, adjusting his women’s robes. “Still, why couldn’t you have been the wife instead?”

Coughing politely, Mo Ran looks to the side, avoiding his gaze. “Shizun’s skills with the illusion barrier far surpass this humble disciple’s, and, well��”

He doesn’t need to complete his sentence—it’s infuriating, but Mo Ran is now taller than him, broader than him, larger than him. Very much so. The young sapling he raised in Sisheng Peak is now a full-fledged tree, a man built like the mountains Chu Wanning has seen in his travels.

Chu Wanning and Mo Ran pretend to be a married couple visiting a small mountain town to investigate some suspicious disappearances. Mini Canon AU casefic. Contains spoilers up to Chapter 130 or so of the novel.

Purple Ink by jeejaschocolate

Chu Wanning is a robotics engineer who lives a life of isolation and loneliness, only partially due to his chronic illness. Eventually he gets so sick that he requires the help of a full-time medical assistant.

Of course, these days, all those jobs are given to CyberLife androids.

Chu Wanning resents the android they give him. From his fiery eyes to his long black hair, to his incomparable tenderness and consideration for Wanning’s feelings.

He resents him. All the way until he falls in love with him.

Fallen Flowers in Swallows' Nests by bloodsongs

You deserve better—I refuse to disrespect you ever again. I want to be better. I must be better.

But I don’t know how. I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know where Taxian-Jun ends and Mo-Zongshi begins.

I only know now that I cannot lie to myself: I want you so fiercely that I burn with it, I am consumed with the desire to make you mine and mine alone. To become one with you, feeling your fire twine with mine.

Or, Chu Wanning finds letters from Mo-Zongshi that were never shared with him.

These hitherto undiscovered letters cover a range of emotions that weren't present in the book he gifted his Shizun: contrition, yearning, and desire.

Counterpoint by senchafloat

Five years ago, Mo Ran was just a boy who loved playing piano—there were many things he didn't know. He didn't know how capricious and unforgiving the world of classical music could be. He didn't know just how lucky he was to have Chu Wanning as his teacher.

Five years later, Chu Wanning is now a renowned concert pianist, and Mo Ran is an upstart conducting student. When Chu Wanning shows up unannounced at his alma mater, Mo Ran has plenty of questions, along with a desire to prove his worth to his old teacher. But as it turns out, Chu Wanning isn't as invincible as he once seemed. As old secrets come up to the surface, the two of them are forced to reinvent the ways they'll make music together.

impatient to adore you by riverdanceeee

At some heartbreaking point in his life, Mo Ran accepted that Chu Wanning would never reciprocate his feelings, so he dealt with it as any other person would. He'd rid himself of his affection, respect their friendship, and learn to move on. But Mo Ran's affection runs too deep, and when any opportunity to spend time with Chu Wanning knocks on his door, he goes running to answer and accept. Even if it means he has to break up a potentially dangerous dog fighting ring.

To Bow Before A Willow Vine by bloodsongs

“I…” Mo Ran hadn’t thought that far. He shakes his head, lowering his head in deference, resting his forehead against Chu Wanning’s knuckles. "I'll do anything you want of me."

The silence stretches on for a beat too long.

"Anything?" Chu Wanning says eventually, tilting his head.

Written for 2Ha Week, Day 4: Reverse AU for the 0.5 timeline. When Chu Wanning storms Sisheng Peak and crowns himself the cultivation world's new emperor, Mo Ran trades his life for Xue Meng's. Contains spoilers for up to the end of the novel.

Call me by my name by rinsled05

When the man called Taxian-Jun arrives, years later, it’s the coming of a storm.

He sweeps into a dinner appointment between Chu Wanning and a client, clad in black, a smirk tugging at his mouth. Over the spark of irritation, Chu Wanning can’t help but admire his lean frame, the way his hair, cut rebelliously short, falls over smoldering, dark eyes. The way he towers over him, even when Chu Wanning rises to full height.

Chu Wanning’s heart races as Taxian-Jun leans in close, ignoring the shouts and gasps around them.

“Sakaki of Ran,” he purrs in their native tongue. “You’re mine.”

Chu Wanning lifts his chin. “I don’t know you.”

“You will,” Taxian-Jun says, and leaves.

In which Chu Wanning is a courtesan serving Chinese merchants in Nagasaki, Japan, and Taxian-Jun decides to make him his.

荷官牌型 ♠️ The Croupier's Hand by bloodsongs

In deep financial straits after losing his job as a teacher, a desperate Chu Wanning becomes a croupier at Sisheng's new casino.

The once sleepy town of Sisheng Peak grows busier by the day as the casino draws more and more tourists to their mountains. Consumed by his lingering regrets over the worst mistake of his life that destroyed his teaching career, Chu Wanning is too distracted to worry about anything else but his next shift, his next paycheck.

Except that's when Mo Ran, the reason Chu Wanning lost everything, returns to Sisheng Peak.

As the heir to the casino.

White Rabbit Club by minkit

Desperate to rid himself of a few pesky things called virginity and desire, Chu Wanning waltzes into a world he knows little about and right into the embrace of a mysterious stranger who reminds him of the student he's been dreaming about all year. The lust fueled dreams his student stars in are the very reason Chu Wanning applied to the sex club in the first place, and now he's desperate to get rid of these filthy impulses once and for all.

Congratulations, Chu Wanning, on your acceptance into the White Rabbit Club. We hope you enjoy your stay.

Risk and Restraint by purloinedinpetrograd

There is nobody Mo Ran works with who does not love him. He’s worked hard to cultivate this image while he climbs the corporate ladder at Sisheng, and it’s paid off in dividends. He’s in every WeChat group. He can call in favors with any division of any department. He can make even the tightest of deadlines relax their stranglehold on his team.

That is, there is nobody except, of course, Chu Wanning.

A Lingering Sweetness by theherocomplex

Chu Wanning is now all too aware of what he looks like: a dry stick of a man, never handsome, angular and cold and pale. A drab, short-tempered creature, as appealing as a splinter in one's foot. But Mo Ran looks at him as if he will never get his fill, and part of Chu Wanning thinks, What if —?

At the end of the line by PearlAquaBlue 

“So … I reckon someone thought you needed to loosen up a little bit. Now that you’re here, want to try it?”

Chu Wanning hangs up. Throws her phone on her pillow with a disgusted glare after it. Stands up and paces to the kitchen in long, angry strides. Her cheeks are burning. With trembling fingers, she grabs a glass and pours herself some water, gulping it down in one go. It doesn’t help much. She grips the kitchen counter tightly, then marches back into the bedroom to glare at the phone again. Her fingertips itch, and it’s as if some kind of magnetic force draws her closer and closer to her bed until her fingertips are but an inch away from that tempting black mirror. Before she knows it, she’s unlocked it unsteadily and pressed “repeat” on the last call.

“Welcome to Sisheng Peak – ”

“And what would that entail?” she asks, a little too breathless.

Let's Fall in Love for the Night by purloinedinpetrograd

Chu Wanning could only stare in horror as a large cloud of sickeningly yellow pollen rose from the field, blanketing the place where Mo Ran stood in a heavy fog. “Um,” he said lamely.

“Fuck,” Mo Ran cursed, and Chu Wanning didn’t even have the heart to chastise him for his coarse language, because he was too preoccupied wrestling the surge of fear at seeing his disciple disappear behind the haze of that indeterminately threatening dust.

A million terrible possibilities raced through his mind, each one more dramatic and gruesome than the last. His heart hammered against his ribcage, threatening to crack the bones. “Mo Ran,” he said slowly, “I think you should tell me what that does, now.”

Xue Zhengyong sends Chu Wanning and Mo Ran on a mission to find a specific ingredient for some concoction of his wife’s. Chu Wanning is torn between rejoicing at the chance to spend time alone with Mo Ran... and grieving over the very same thing.

But, well, it’s just flowers. What could go wrong, right? (Spoiler alert: it’s sex pollen.)

the day dawns in your hues by localshabba

2ha Week 2020 Day 1 prompt - Haitang

---

Schoolteacher Mo Ran is having an ordinary day until he has an awkward encounter with the notoriously rigid school librarian, which leads to the start of something new.

Also features: flowers, dinosaurs and lots of tenderness and pining.

helping hands by verity

When Mo Ran was but a young, innocent, virtuous grad student—well, one of those things—she built that couch from a flatpack box with her own two hands. Over the years, the smell of polyester and cheap foam padding has given way to an equally aromatic blend of Chu Wanning's haitang blossom perfume, spilled coffee, and white lithium grease. Chu Wanning herself is always perfectly dressed without a stain in sight. Even right now, her head tucked onto one folded arm, the other loosely gripping her tablet, she looks so formal.

Mo Ran gently rests a hand on Chu Wanning's socked ankle where it peeks out of those tailored white trousers. She really should behave herself.

She really should... behave herself...

in plain sight by localshabba

Written for a prompt fill in the 2ha Kink Meme.

---

"I have a surprise," Mo Ran breathed, coming to stand so close behind him that his breath landed on Chu Wanning's nape. Not touching Chu Wanning any other way, because he likes to make Chu Wanning lean back just a little bit, to seek out that contact himself.

"I think Chu-laoshi will enjoy it."

Chu Wanning is sure he agreed to the whole idea; he's just unclear on when. Things got hazy around the point when Mo Ran turned him around by the shoulders, got down on his knees and...well. Apparently he'd skipped breakfast that morning.

When he returned to his senses, his clothes were all neatly tucked into place, not a stain on them, and a charmingly pink sexual aid was nestled comfortably up his--ahem, inside him.

---

Now available in Spanish!

casually acquainted by tagteamme

Chu Wanning knows what he is and what he isn’t. And where he lacks in pleasantries and outward appeal, he makes up for in untouchable grace and dignity.

It threatens to unravel once he meets a familiar face in an unfamiliar city.

“So quick to run away from me, Chu-laoshi,” Mo Ran says, voice gently teasing as Chu Wanning refuses to make eye contact with him. “After you came all the way from…”

He trails off, waiting for Chu Wanning to let him know, but he sees the map open on Chu Wanning’s phone and grins wider. “You want directions?”

Chu Wanning clears his throat, and shakes his head. He should say something— instead, he stays silent as he looks down at his phone and punches in the hotel name again.

Happily, his phone tells him to try again when he has signal.

The Right Hand of Light by gedsparrowhawk (FaceChanger)

Chu Wanning is asleep on the bed, clutching his hands tightly to his chest and curled in on himself. He’s still wearing the same robes he was in in the water prison. On the writing desk, a bowl of water and clean linen for bandages sit untouched, and a tub of bathwater has cooled without being used. Mo Ran sighs to himself. Wanning is truly hopeless.

He sits on the side of the bed and touches Chu Wanning’s shoulder. “Wanning,” he says. “Wanning, wake up.”

---

Rare 0.5 tenderness, after the water prison.

nothing can consume you by tagteamme

Mo Ran’s violent history has never had to catch up to him.

It’s already embedded itself into him as scars on his body, as a tattoo on his forearm, as the lingering taste of blood in his sleep and finally, as the searing brand pressed against his chest before he’s thrown into the sea as punishment. He knows that this is where all his chances come to an end.

But as the deep fathom of the water swallows him up, something else saves him and pulls him to a tiny cove tucked away off the coast of an overlooked port town. When he wakes up under the care of a mythical creature wearing a familiar face, an even older and more distant past finally finds him.

[sapphirerogers]

Chapter 4 (part 2)

She paused abruptly. Steve figured she didn’t really bother about a good ending. “What was her name?” he asked her, following her line of sight, and spotting a picture of the entire family with a woman he hadn’t seen before. That should be her mother.

“Lily.”

“As in…”

“Lily Potter? Almost. She was just as sweet and loving,” April answered softly, smiling at the memory.

“You don’t have to do this anymore, April,” he told her, reaching out to touch her hand, “they’re safe now. HYDRA will never know where they are, I promise. You can break free now.”

She looked up and she was surprised at the sincerity and hope in his eyes: hope that she would fight harder now. It touched her, almost bringing tears to her eyes.

Why am I breaking every single 'stranger' rule with this man?

She still shook her head, “I know this sounds mean, and I’m sorry, but I still don’t get why you’d do all of this. I mean, you didn’t have any reason to trust me, or a word of whatever I said.”

He smiled, “First, Bucky told me the main facts. That’s one reason. Second, that day, you had a clear shot that you didn’t take. And I know you missed on purpose. You could have killed me, but you didn’t. I owe you.”

She looked down at her lap. “You’re right,” she answered sheepishly, “I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“And that alone says enough about you for me to trust.”

A smile found its way to her lips as she began to open her heart to him, placing her faith in him. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.”

They talked about random things, silly memories, and each other. She got a glimpse of Steve’s life, which was in stark contrast to hers, yet so similar as regards the never-ending struggle, and the yearning for a simpler life. “Where the biggest decision I have to make is Chinese or Italian for a night out at a restaurant,” was her definition of a simple life. “Where I can just have a home and a family with the love of my life,” was Steve’s.

She pondered over his words, then replied, “Well, I was so busy raising six kids and looking after Dad, I just never thought about that. In fact I never expected to find something like ‘the love of my life’. But now that you mention it, I realized that yeah, I’d like that too. I had just one boyfriend, Dylan, in fact. But you know what, he wasn’t my ‘happily ever after’, if you know what I mean. It was just a 'what if', if anything.”

He nodded, totally understanding her point. Having coming out of the ice, he had often lay in bed wondering about him and Peggy. And every time he gave it another thought, he found it seemed to matter a little less. Maybe all he would ever love was the idea of Peggy.

But April was here, sitting across him on the sofa, pouring his heart out to here. This wasn't a what if, this was a 'what now?' situation.

“I do know what you mean,” he replied, his heart warming for some unknown reason. It stopped raining a while later. Steve noticed it, and the time: 5.15 p.m.

“Wow, time passes by so quickly,” April said with a hint of sadness.

“I should go,” Steve murmured, his tone the same as hers, “thanks for letting me stay.”

“I owed you that much.”

“Well, then, I guess this is it,” Steve said, getting up.

“Yeah, I suppose you should go.”

“But you know, I’m glad we met.”

Her lips peeled back into a soft smile, “Me too, Steve.”

She followed him outside, and they stood there for a while, watching the rays of the setting sun play hide-and-seek on each other’s faces, highlighting their features perfectly.

“Thank you for this,” she whispered.

“April,” he surprised her with a sudden urgency in his tone, “No one can help you out if you don’t help yourself. I did everything I could. It’s your turn to make it worth it.” He instinctively took her hand in his as he spoke. His fingers trailed along the soft skin of her wrist, feeling the small, but somewhat prominent GPS tracker embedded inside. His fingertips stayed there for a while as a message.

She looked down, “Alright.”

He waited for a while, then placed a hand on her cheek. She looked up into his blue eyes, and he stared into her gray ones. Then, as abruptly as he had turned up here a week before, he closed the small distance between their faces as he brought his lips to hers.

She froze, not wanting to pull away from that warm feeling, but too stunned to respond to it. He clearly wasn’t expecting her to, for he pulled away, leaving a chaste, blissfully sweet kiss to her lips, then leaned his forehead on hers.

“Be careful, April Rain Westwood,” he huskily whispered, “I’d absolutely hate to leave now, and wake up one day to find out no one goes by that name anymore.”

She took in a deep breath, “You won’t, I promise.” He smiled, making her heart melt, then walked over to his motorbike. “Take care, Captain,” she said, “I wasn’t the first one asked to shoot at you, and I won’t be the last. And they might not miss.”

“I know. You don’t have to worry. Nothing’s going to happen to me, I promise.” He mounted his motorbike, then returning her goodbye wave with one boyish salute and another smile, he turned and disappeared. The roar of the engine soon ceased, leaving nothing but the chirping of the birds: it was a reminder that she was alone again.

She watched with mixed feelings: stunned by the kiss, regretting not having responded, sad because she’d never see him again, grateful to him for changing her life, and glad that she had got to know him. Standing under the now clear blue sky with its fluffy pink clouds, amidst the silky orange sunset and the luscious greenery around, suddenly looking much livelier, she realized a dangerous thing: she was attracted to Steve Rogers.

An amused Bucky Barnes walked up to Steve, guessing the reason behind the distant expression on the blond’s face as he stared at the sun in the western sky. Everything outside was still wet from the rain that afternoon. “So, what exactly happened?” he asked.

Steve sighed, “I kissed her.” He wished Bucky wouldn't bring that up. The rejection stung, gentle as it was.

“You did?”

“Yeah, but don’t get excited – she didn’t kiss me back. I mean, why would she? So I pulled away a second later.”

“Why?”

"What, was I supposed to keep kissing-"

"No no, why did you kiss her in the first place?"

"Great fucking question, why did you kiss her, Stevie," he turned to face his brother, "I wanted to know what flavor her chapstick was, why else?"

"Steve-"

“I don’t know, okay? I wasn’t planning on it! I think I...I just…” he sighed, “What difference does it make anyway? I’m never going to see her again.”

Bucky laughed, “Look over there.” A faint rainbow had appeared in the east. “You do know what a rainbow means, right? I told you a long time ago.”

“Yeah, Buck, I do. A seal of God’s promise to Noah.” Bucky nodded,

“You’re forgetting the important part. A symbol of hope for generations to come. Make a wish before it fades.” Steve closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. “Good boy,” Bucky laughed.

“Jerk.”

“Punk. Don’t sulk, she’s not gone. You know where to find her, you can always drop by and say hi. You two didn’t meet for nothing, did ya?”

Steve smiled, hope filling his heart again, “Maybe not.”

Tag list:

@peace-love-fanfiction @royalwriteroftheuniverse @nana1000night @jennygirl2014 @hawkeyes-queen @imaginedreamwrite @rodrikstark @steverogerssimpp @steverogersxreader

[sevlgi]

promises, promises

requested: yes

group: dreamcatcher

pairing: bora x fem!reader  (plus bora x siyeon)

genre: basically just angst

contents: established!relationship between bora and siyeon but they don’t love each other, coworker!au, y/n just pines alone lmfao, but there IS a happy ending

warnings: none

synopsis: Bora and Siyeon are so used to their relationship that it feels like they can’t ever change. But at this point, is continuing together really their best option?

a/n: afdfasfkasdn i hope y’all like this!!!

word count: 2.6k

“Hey, Bora, if you’re coming home tonight, can you bring some takeout?”

The word ‘if’ echoes in Bora’s headphones as she stares at her phone screen. Siyeon said the word so offhandedly in her message, obviously used to her girlfriend’s constant absent and apparently unfazed by it, but it stops Bora herself right in the middle of the road as she listens to the message.

Honestly, her situation with Siyeon is... difficult. They’ve lived together for years, so they’re both used to having schedules that never match. To an outsider, the minimal amount of time that they actually spend together would be nothing short of a red flag, but neither Bora nor Siyeon think much of it.

There’s a certain comfort of knowing what waits for you at home, even if it is figurative most of the time. Bora has had the same emergency contact for years, and she always knows who to call if she has left something at home. She never has to call a babysitter, and whenever she gets hit on, she can say that she has a girlfriend of 5 years.

But maybe saying it like that sounds too much like a business contract.

The harsh reality is that the rare time she does spend with Siyeon is almost always filled with stilted silence, made awkward by two people both too exhausted to put effort into their relationship. And when it isn’t that suffocating silence between them, it’s anger, arguments that can be brought on by the most marginal mistaken word.

All of that culminates into the fact that Bora doesn’t really go home. Neither of them have the energy to actually talk things through, but neither of them want to let go of that familiar stability either. So they’re girlfriends by name, and nothing else in their hearts.

Bora supposes that it’s as much her fault as it is Siyeon’s.

“Yo, Bora!”

A smile prods the corner of her mouth up, and she pockets the phone. “Wassup, bro?” she calls sarcastically, accepting the overly enthusiastic fist-bump from you anyway. “Since when do you greet me with ‘yo’, especially when you’re about to ask for a ride home?”

You pout. “Is it that obvious?”

“You never come after me after work ends for any other reason, so, yes.” Bora opens the passenger side of her car for you anyway, spinning her keys around her index finger. There’s a hammered silver heart hanging off the other side with her and Siyeon’s initials. 

“If you wanted my company more often, all you had to do is say so,” you sigh. As always, you reach for the aux and plug it into your phone. “Are we making any pit stops along the way? Because I’ll shoot you a coffee as payment if you want it.”

“Actually, I’m gonna pick up some takeout for me and Siyeon.”

“Oh. Cool.” You pick some song that you’ve played at least 10 times in the past week, but Bora doesn’t comment on it.

She can’t help but notice that her passenger’s seat bears more evidence of you sitting there than anyone else. The seat itself is adjusted to the way you like it, and you have a habit of leaving your phone in the exact same place on the dashboard, the only rectangle that isn’t covered in dust. 

Bora isn’t actually sure about how Siyeon would adjust her seat, actually. Before she can stop herself, she asks you, “Hey, Y/N. What would you say is strictly necessary for a relationship to work?”

You glance at her, surprised. “Uh. Are you forgetting that I’m single?”

“I’m taking that as a sign that the date from last night didn’t go well?” When you shake your head, Bora sighs, “Sorry to bring it up, then.”

“No, no, it’s fine. We only went out like three times.” You lean back to think about the question, biting on your bottom lip as you do. It’s endearing. “I think... sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice? What, like Simba’s dad sacrifice?” Bora tries to joke. 

You roll your eyes, “You watch too much Disney, dumbass. I mean like... taking pictures together because one person likes to, even if the other doesn’t. Alternating your favorite pastas, taking like one hour of work off each to have a date night. That kind of sacrifice.”

“Oh. I get it, I think.” Bora does understand it; she thinks about how often Yoohyeon misses a day of work, because she claims that one paycheck isn’t worth a missed anniversary. She thinks about how JiU does the pasta thing despite not really liking Yoohyeon’s favorite, and she thinks about how she and Siyeon never do that anymore. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Bora gets out of the car to get takeout at one point, but she’s deep in thought for the rest of the ride home, even when you wave her goodbye at your own place. Sacrifice, huh?

She thinks that the only thing she sacrifices is her wallet.

Siyeon opens the door for her with a small smile, though, which makes Bora happy enough. Her girlfriend says, “I’m gonna guess you got Chinese?”

“Thai,” Bora shakes her head. The apartment is cold because Siyeon read somewhere that it helps you fall asleep faster, but Bora herself hates it. “I don’t eat Chinese food much anymore, remember?”

“Since when?” Siyeon frowns, locking the door behind her. “Last I remembered, your favorite food was those dumb little dumplings from the place down the street.”

“Last year, yeah. It doesn’t matter, though, let’s eat. What did you do today?”

It’s a boring question, but the other woman accepts it gratefully. “Uh, went to work early, but I got lunch with my mom.”

“Oh? How is she?” Bora questions, already spreading the takeout boxes all over the table. She hasn’t seen Siyeon’s mom in a while, but she misses the motherly figure. 

Siyeon shrugs and reaches for her chopsticks. “She’s fine. She wants to know when we’re getting married.”

Bora’s heart stops, and not in the good way. She and Siyeon have talked about marriage before, but it was all in the honeymoon stage, when they first started dating years ago. “Oh? What did you tell her?”

Her girlfriend raises an eyebrow. “That we aren’t even engaged, obviously. Unless I missed an important conversation?”

“N- yeah.” Bora stuffs a shrimp in her mouth to quiet herself, at least for a little bit. It’s not that she doesn’t want to get married-- she just doesn’t want anything to change. 

Of course, Siyeon doesn’t let her shock at the question go. “What?” she prods. “Is getting married that scary?”

“I mean... do you want us to get married?”

Siyeon hesitates at that. Eventually, she shakes her head in silence, and that’s enough of an answer.

There’s really nothing wrong with their relationship. But as Siyeon bids goodnight right after she finishes eating, and Bora remains in the living room, she thinks that there might not be anything right anymore either.

Bora asks about the closest engagement ring store before she can stop herself, and you stare at her. “Are you two getting engaged?”

“No. Well, it’s complicated,” Bora sighs, turning right when her phone tells her to. “Siyeon’s mother wants us to get married, and I was thinking about what you were saying. It’s time to make some sacrifices.”

You stammer, “Th- that’s not really what I meant? I meant, like, take a day or two off work and get a vacation together, maybe talk things out for more than a minute? Not... proposing. Bora, I don’t...”

“Well, what would you do if you were in my shoes? Or, better yet--” Bora holds up a hand-- “what would you do if you were Siyeon? How would you deal with me, your girlfriend of 5 years?”

Suddenly, you feel like it’s 500 degrees in the car. But you answer, “I’d... I’d plan a trip. One of those cruises that offer dinners, and then I’d just try and talk with you. Bora, do you really think you’re in the right state to get married?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Bora questions. “We’re comfortable, you know. Siyeon got promoted a month ago, we make more than enough money to afford a wedding, and we’ve been together for so long, I don’t know anything without her.”

“I don’t mean financially,” you sigh. “I mean... do you think she’d say yes? Are you happy?”

‘Do you think she’d say yes?’ To be completely honest, Bora doesn’t know. She doesn’t even know what kind of a ring Siyeon would want, though she does know her ring size. She answers forcefully, “She will. I know it.”

“Okay.” You lean back, thumbs fiddling with your phone. “Bora? Would you mind dropping me off at work first? I don’t think I’ll be much help if I go with you.”

Bora nods. “Sure.”

She ends up buying a simple ring with a blue stone, something that won’t really make a dent in either of their bank accounts, but will still be enough for Siyeon to show off. The box is a heavy weight in Bora’s pocket as she arrives home, quite a bit earlier than she normally does.

“Siyeon-ah?” she asks, rapping on the door as she pushes it open.

“Bora? You’re home early,” her girlfriend replies, turning from where she is at the sink. For some reason, Bora’s relieved that it’s all Siyeon does at home when she’s alone, though there’s no reason for her to suspect anything else. “Did you get off work early?”

“Uh, I took time off.” Bora sets her bag down and takes her jacket off, watching Siyeon open the fridge for something else. “I... remember when your mom asked when we’d get married?”

“Yeah. I remember that, why?” Siyeon silently hands her a glass of water.

Instead of saying anything else, Bora takes the box out of her pocket and pops it open before sliding it over the counter. Blue glints brilliantly under the kitchen’s lights, but even to her, it looks dull.

Siyeon glances at her in surprise, saying softly, “Bora... that’s not what I meant when I told you what she said.”

“Then what did you mean?”

The younger woman sighs, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. “I. Look, aren’t we happy just as we are?”

A little bit of anger fires up in the pit of Bora’s stomach. It isn’t that she seriously wants to get married, or that it matters all that much that Siyeon doesn’t seem to, but she put in the effort. Like you had told her to, she made a sacrifice, and it hurts a bit that it doesn’t have the effect she wishes it did. “You tell me, Siyeon. Didn’t you tell me when we started dating that getting married was your goal?” Bora demands.

“I did, and that was 5 years ago,” Siyeon snaps back. “Why are you so hellbent on this, anyway? I thought you never wanted to get married.”

Bora hesitates, but she still ends up being honest. She answers quietly, “To make a relationship work, we have to make sacrifices.”

“Don’t--”

“Siyeon. Do you still love me?”

“Obviously! What kind of a question even is that?” Siyeon bites back, anger starting to furrow her eyebrows. Bora wishes she could say that it’s an unfamiliar sight, but it isn’t anymore. “Who told you all that sacrifice bullshit anyway?”

“Y/N, not that it matters.” Bora’s hands clutching tightly in her hair, she sighs, “Look, I got it wrong, okay? I’ll return the ring--”

Siyeon interrupts, “Bora, do you know why Y/N told you sacrifices make relationships work?”

When the older woman doesn’t respond, Siyeon just continues, “It’s because she’s the one making sacrifices. She understands what ‘sacrifices’ should be in a relationship, and it isn’t you buying an engagement ring when neither of us want to get married at all.”

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?” Bora snatches the box up from the counter and grabs her keys again. “I’m going out.”

“What, to talk to Y/N?” Bora turns to stare at Siyeon, who only stands there with crossed arms and the air that says she knows she’s right.

Bora doesn’t respond, but she does slam the front door after her a little too hard.

Whenever she needs to talk to you, Bora takes advantage of the fact that you can always be found in one corner of the office. Unlike all your other coworkers, who like to roam and chat, you’re always in the same space, unless Bora drags you out.

And she does, slamming her palms down on either side of your desk. You don’t flinch, and she says lowly, “I need to talk to you.”

“Okay, but did you have to mess up my sticky notes?” you attempt to joke. Bora just grabs your wrist to tug you out of the office, leading you straight to her car without a word to anyone else. “Bora. Bora, what is this about?”

She takes a breath as soon as the two of you are sitting down, your eyes completely trained on her as she says, “Siyeon said something.”

“Oh. I’m assuming you aren’t engaged, then?”

“What- no. No, nothing close,” Bora sighs. “I tried making a sacrifice like you told me to, because I thought she wanted to get married. Spoiler, she doesn’t.”

You groan, placing your head in your hands. “Bora, that isn’t what I meant.”

Siyeon’s words about you understanding ‘sacrifice’ ring in the other woman’s head, but Bora stays silent and lets you continue, “Look, sacrifice in a relationship doesn’t mean literally sacrificing your own wants and stuff. It means accommodating the person you love, going out of your way to do nice things without doing damage to yourself.”

“Like you do?” Bora’s voice is soft, almost too soft for you to catch, but you do hear it. 

And instead of an adverse reaction, instead of denying it, you nod. “Yeah.”

Silence fills the car, and you don’t dare to raise your head. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t think I ever knew.”

“No, I know you didn’t.” You sigh and reach over to fiddle with the keychain you left on the passenger door handle. “I mean, you were so in love when we met. And now...”

“I’m not,” she finishes.

You shrug, “Well, that’s up to you to figure out. You’ve figured me out, anyway. And I’ve waited this long, I won’t blame you for whatever decision you do make.”

“What if you didn’t have to wait?”

Bora suddenly remembers the box sitting in her pocket, and digs it out. She doesn’t know if it’ll fit your finger, or if you’ll even like it, but it’s spontaneous, and Bora thinks it’s the way that things should be. “Take it,” she offers, “as a promise. I know what I have to do, but I want to promise to you that... I’ll come back to you. And I think I should promise that I’ll start loving you the way you’ve loved me.”

You take the box gently, and as light as it is, Bora feels a weight taken away. You’ve always had that effect on her, after all. “Okay. I accept your promise, and I’ll wait. For you.”

The ring is a little tight, and you put it on your pinky instead of the normal fingers, but it feels secure. It feels like Bora will keep her promise this time, to both her and you.