#hes so real for saying something like 'everything worth wanting is lost the moment i obtain it' because he lost a friend

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

dazai is actually the realest guy in bsd for considering love a vital part of the human experience and falling a little in love with everyone around him and basing his plans on his understandings of people and being excited about his friends and dragging them to wherever he is and always believing wholeheartedly in the power of allies and teamwork

[scarletwinterxx]

this is how you fall in love - jeon wonwoo imagine

idk what to say except wonwoo is such a precious precious precious human🥺 i hope you're happy everyday, wonu🤍

i hope you like it!

alsooo if anyone want to be mutuals on X, i'm using the same un there😊

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

When you say your life turned technicolor when you started dating Wonwoo, you meant it both literally and metaphorically. Before him, life for you was black and white. A 24 hour rotation of the clock.

To put it simply, you just lived life as it is.

It's still a mystery to you how you manage to land yourself a wonderful boyfriend like him, there are moments it doesn't feel real. How could it be when your man looks and acts like he stepped right out of a fairytale book specially written for you.

"Hey pretty, I got something for you"

He swears gift giving isn't his love language and he knows you don't like getting such grand gifts, but time to time he brings home little trinkets that reminds him of you or something cute that he thinks you'll like.

Just the other week he got you shoes that matches the one he has, but yours was in pink. Very cute, you told him. He remembered you telling him you needed new shoes but couldn't decide what to get, you saw the pink version of his' and thought about getting those but you never got to doing so.

So a few days after that, he surprised you. The smile you had on was worth every dollar he spent. You even went on a walk with your matching shoes on.

Today it's something else. This time it's a cute yellow hair pin, perfect match to the scrunchie he got you before.

"You know my favorite color is purple, right?"

He chuckles at your question. Of course he knows. At this point there's little he doesn't know about you, from your little quirks, to your pet peeves to all your favorite, he have those all listed in his mind like his own commandments.

It also happens to be his favorite color too, so that helps

"I know, I just pick that one so I can easily spot you" he takes the seat beside you on the couch, throwing his arm on the back of the couch making you rest your head against him.

"Huh?" you ask, looking at him

"Just when I don't wear my glasses, everything else is blurry but atleast I can see the color. That way I know it's you" he smiles, playing with the yellow scrunchie on your wrist

"So you're telling me, you keep getting me yellow stuff so you could see me?"

He nods

You look at him before a smile breaks out of your face, taking Wonwoo's cheeks between your hands to squish them. Cuteness aggression taking over.

To some, Wonwoo might seem like a cold person, very nonchalant but that's the exact opposite. If you get to know him more, he's a big softie and likes to play practical jokes every now and then. One of the many things that made you fall in love with him was how easy it was to smile when you're with him.

Falling for him didn't feel scary. From your past relationships it always felt like a part of you was lost, like you're not you're own person anymore. But with him, it's different.

Wonwoo let's you be you. You feel loved just by being you.

"What got you thinking, pretty? Lost you for a second there" he whispers

"Just.. things"

"Want to share?"

It's cute he still asks, even after dating for some time he still asks if you want to share whatever thoughts you have in your mind instead of just making you say it. From day 1 he let you set the pace, no matter how slow or how fast you want to go he'll be right beside you happily holding your hand.

He tucks your hair behind your ear, cradling your face in his hands and you think this is where you feel the safest, the most secure.

"Just you, still wondering what I did in my past life to deserve you"

He shakes his head, leaning down to give you a kiss on the forehead. "I should be the one asking you that. I'm just happy I get to love you like this"

He watches you watch him, he knows you're still having an internal debate. Thoughts bouncing around in your head, sometimes that happens and he's always there to shut any doubts.

"You love me, correct?" he asks, you quickly utter a confirmation making Wonwoo smile

"You said, anything I love you'll learn to love too. Correct?" he asks again, you nod at his question

"I love you, more than anything in this universe. I love even the tiny flaws you think you have. To me, all those things are just... you. These cheeks? I love seeing them the moment i open my eyes in morning, pressed against the pillow making you look like a sleeping angel. These hands? I love how they hold me, keep me grounded when it gets too loud. Your laugh, especially the one that don't sound like anything because you're laughing too hard and you're so happy I cant help but smile too and make me want to make you laugh like that everyday."

He holds your hand in his, eyes looking straight into yours as he says the words. Each and every one of them is the truth and nothing but the truth.

"You, all of you I love. This mind, the one that keeps you up at night, makes you worry about the future that have yet to come and everything that could go wrong, I love that too. That's you, you and your nagging, your ups and downs, your mood swings and bad days. I'd have it all" He frees your hand so he can reach up to flatten the crease between your brows. You feel his fingertip ever so gently land on your forehead.

"Just once, even for a second I wish you see yourself through my eyes and know just why I look at you the way I do. If only you can feel what I feel because there isn't any word in any language to express it. Not yet anyways" he breathes out.

Before you, Wonwoo's life was monochromatic. Like a black and white silent film. And when he met you, that's when it all changed. He started to laugh a little louder, smile a little wider. You're the color of his life, not the overwhelming kind of color but instead the exact hues he loved.

"Do you ever feel overwhelmed with how you feel about me?" you ask him. He can hear the genuine wonder in your voice, instead of sugarcoating it for you he tells the truth because he would never know how to lie to you.

"Sometimes, I overthink too" he lets out a chuckle before continuing "Like what if one day I become too much, but I can't help it. I just want to do everything for you. Sometimes, I feel down. I don't want to make you feel that too so I just..." he trails off

He didn't need to say anything else for you to understand.

"Then will you tell me if you're having bad days too? I can take it." you tell him

"Love, I-" he pauses "I'm sorry. I know I'm not the most vocal person, I just don't want to burden you with my problems" he breathes out. His hold on you tightening.

"I'm your partner, I'm your girlfriend. Am I not?"

"You are"

"Didn't you tell me once you'd marry me"

"I did, and I will" he smiles, recalling that conversation in his head.

"Then talk to me, I don't care about the baggage, I don't care if they're too heavy. I'm here. You share your joys with me, then that's double the happiness. That goes the same with your sorrows, you tell me all about it so it's half the pain"

He smiles, heart filling up with more love for you he didn't was possible.

"You can tell me, you don't have to give it all to me. I just want to know if you're okay, or angry or worried or sad. I just want to know how to be there for you like you are for me" you tell him, tracing his features with your fingertips.

He hugs you even tighter, afraid of letting any space get between the two of you. "You being here is more than enough for me. Knowing I'm coming home to you is enough for me. You are more than enough for me, my love"

You didn't expect your afternoon to turn into love confessions but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

[loki-cees-all]

Hello and hi, my lovely!

I have this scenario for you that I sometimes think about.

How would Loki react if you (the mortal he might have feelings for but he’s not quite certain yet) were the only one to acknowledge his birthday? Maybe you put up a few balloons and even buy him a little cupcake with a candle on it? How would he react?

Happiest of birthdays to you! You’re a joy to know!! I love you!! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Cupcake For a God {Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader

Summary : Loki’s birthday is approaching, and it forces himself to reconcile who he wants to be versus who he actually is, and to reflect on his almost certainly unrequited feelings for you.

But what if the feelings weren’t unrequited?

W/c : 1.9k words

Content/Warnings : Angst, a bit of fluff

Author's Note : I swear I tried so hard to make this not so angsty! Please forgive me, Saz! 😭😭😭

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ──  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

There were a lot of things for Loki to dislike about living on Midgard. 

For starters, he was being forced to live there, inside Stark Tower with the other Avengers as penance for his crimes. It was only fitting, they’d told him, that he should assist in their efforts to keep the mortals safe because he was the reason they needed protecting in the first place.

Loki didn’t bother telling them what Thanos had done to him after he fell from the Bifrost; truthfully, he still didn’t quite understand it himself. That entire year was a blur to him - a painful concoction of lies and manipulations and tears and blood that left him unable to tell the difference between fact and fiction, even almost two years after the torture had began. 

He didn’t want anyone to know how weak he was, about how much he’d lost himself. If they knew how vulnerable he was, they might decide he wasn’t worth the trouble and send him to the dungeons of Asgard instead. 

Another thing he disliked was the forced pleasantries and unnecessary rituals humans had developed with each other, and by extension, him. The humans would smile as they past him by on the street, but it was a falsity every time; the sentiment never reached their eyes, and Loki could smell their fear from several blocks away. 

Loki knew they didn’t actually care how his day was going, that their concern only went as far as making sure he wasn’t on the verge of invading with another alien force under his command. He wasn’t, but honestly, if it meant everyone kept their distance, then he wasn’t going to argue with it. 

It wasn’t fair to say that Loki preferred being alone, but he was certainly used to it, and that was in direct contradiction of the forced socialization he had to endure on Midgard - press conferences, team building exercises (which Loki believed was just an excuse to consume copious amounts of food and drink), training sessions, something called “movie nights”, and missions across the world to dismantle S.H.I.E.L.D.’s various bunkers and bases. 

It was so much talking, and even more listening. So much lying and pretending that everything was fine, that Loki didn’t feel like a caged monster, and that everyone else wasn’t waiting for the littlest thing to completely set him off. 

But Loki was trying as hard as he could to ignore the dull ache that haunted his dreams and every waking moment. He knew he had hurt people, he knew he needed to make up for his grievous transgressions, but he didn’t know how else to make up for it all. So he pressed on, through the discomfort and awkwardness, in the hope that one day everything might become a little easier.

The one bright side to all of this, the one shimmering ray of light amidst the sea of gray, was you. Loki didn’t quite know what to make of his attraction to you - was it real, or was it just your absence of fear in his presence? Had it just been too long since he’d felt the touch of another, or were you actually everything he’d ever wanted?

Loki almost didn’t want to find out, in case it wasn’t real. Because your smile reached your eyes every time you looked at him, and your laughter was like sparks blowing across the embers of a dying fire…but he couldn’t shake the fear that it could just be another trick. 

Perhaps his mind still hadn’t fully recovered from Thanos’ torture. Maybe Thor had put you up to this, as a way of making assimilation easier for him. 

Because why else would you look at him like that? Why would you go out of your way to sit next to him during the team’s movie nights? Why else would you lean towards him on the couch and fall asleep against the shoulder of a villain, of a monster, of a fool? 

It was stupid, and pointless, and illogical, and just like him to irrationally want something he couldn’t ever have. He was a God, and you were a mortal, and it would ultimately end in heartache either way. So while he had the chance, Loki forced himself to remain content and to just linger in the question of what if you could want him too. 

The final thing about Midgard, and the one he despised the most, was the mortal obsession with birthdays. Loki was grateful the Asgardians never paid any attention to such silly and exhausting traditions - which was surprising, considering how much Asgardians loved frivolity. 

So he really shouldn’t have been shocked when Thor discovered, and subsequently fell in love with, the concept of birthdays. His brother immediately requested his mortal companion Jane to perform the necessary calculations to determine the Midgardian equivalent of Thor’s birthdate - and Loki’s as well, which his brother gleefully announced to the entire team and embarrassed him to the deepest pits of his soul. 

A massive celebration was planned for Thor, with enough food and drink to sustain a small country, and on the special night, flashing lights and loud music bathed the massive common room of Stark Tower in merriment and laughter. Everyone was invited, and it would have been rude for Loki to not make an appearance - but it wasn’t because he wanted to admire you in your party dress, although that was a very lovely bonus. 

But as gorgeous as you looked - the longer the party went on, the sadder Loki became. Everyone was talking, smiling, and dancing, congratulating Thor on his many accomplishments and swapping happy stories of all the good times they’d had together. It was painful to witness, to know for a fact that no such party would be happening for himself when his birthday rolled around. 

Loki tried telling himself that he didn’t want it, and that he’d be miserable during it. He tried convincing himself that it would be too loud, and too bawdy, and vain, and that he didn’t need other people’s reassurances that they were happy he was there with them. He told himself he didn’t need it at all, that he was completely fine without it. But it was a lie, so of course it didn’t work. 

As the days approached to Loki’s birthday, he became even more withdrawn than usual. With the exceptions of necessary missions or training, he stopped leaving his room. He was silent during travel on the Quinjet, and refused your invitations to further movie nights, even though the disappointment on your face ripped him apart in ways he’d never experienced before. 

He felt like he deserved to suffer, to collapse in on himself like a dying star because he knew he’d never be worthy of the love and attention his older brother seemed to collect so effortlessly. It wasn’t Thor’s fault; it was just Loki’s lot in life. And the further he receded, the more likely his heartache would be justified, and he couldn’t be surprised if he was already disappointed.

The evening of his birthday was the worst night he’d experienced in a long time, not since the day he let go of the Bifrost. Loki didn’t even come out of his room for dinner that night, choosing instead to feast on pain, and anguish, and regret, and all the feelings he hadn’t ever had the time to process over his thousand years of existence. 

Thor tried several times to lure him out of his room, to no avail. Loki wouldn’t leave - no, he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t bring himself to witness the fact that they’d done nothing special for him, even though he’d be furiously uncomfortable if they did. 

As the hours passed, he tried to distract himself with sleep, and then reading, but neither did the trick. Eventually, he curled up on the window seat of his private quarters, wrapped himself in furs and pressed his forehead against the glass, watching the tiny little mortals going about their nights in blissful ignorance of the god suffering fifty floors above them. 

And Loki was so lost that he could barely respond to the cautious knock on his door, the one that threatened to pull him away from his misery. But his heart leapt in his throat when he heard your voice calling his name, and he wanted so much to let you in, to feel you next to him. 

But the urge to say something cruel, to push you away and continue on alone, was just as strong. Loki didn’t know which to concede to, even as his feet slowly carried him to the door. He didn’t know what he was going to say, even while his fingers raked through his messy curls and rubbed the pain from his eyes. 

He felt ridiculous as he hesitated to open the door; he was a God, and once the most fearsome villain this entire planet had ever seen - but here he was, nervous and split open and too raw to simply open a door and look upon a beautiful woman while he was hiding away from his birthday. 

There was a soft rustling sound on the other side of the door, and Loki’s forehead rested against the wood as he heard your footsteps quietly retreating down the hallway. He’d waited too long, paralyzed by his self-indulgent indecision, and it had pushed you away. 

He thought about yanking the door open and calling after you. He considered begging for you to come back. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around you and to pull you closer, but all he could manage was to gently pull the door open after he was sure you were gone. 

On the floor of the hallway, waiting patiently and comfortably for him, was a beautifully-decorated cupcake and a note resting on a small paper plate. A single candle rose out of the emerald and sapphire swirls of frosting, and the pink paper was folded in half, with his name written in the loveliest cursive on the outside. 

Loki fought back tears as he retrieved the gift from the floor, and he cautiously balanced the plate in one hand while holding the note in the other. 

Hey Loki,

I know birthdays are hard; they’re hard for me too. But hopefully this treat makes you smile, even just for a second. 

I’ll be awake for a little while longer - stop by my room if you need to talk. I promise I won’t find it weird :) 

XOXO

P.S. I’m really glad you’re here, even if you’re not ready to accept that yet. 

He swallowed hard as he stared at the most generous gift he’d ever received. He didn’t know if you even fully understood what you’d just done for him. He fervently wanted to go after you, and he desperately wanted to continue hiding. 

But you’d extended an invitation, one he could feasibly take you up on. No one would argue it wasn’t in his right to do so. And Gods above, he wanted to, more than anything else he’d ever wanted. But would it be worth it, or would it just make everything worse? 

Loki tore his damp and heavy eyes away from the note and glanced up and down the hallway. He shut his door, just as quietly as he’d opened it, wondering if it would be a mistake to allow his heart guide him to where he’d rather be. 

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ──  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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[heavenlyvision]

IT'S GETTING COLD AGAIN

pairing: bi-han/reader

wc: 12.6k

this is part 6 to my 'when hell freezes over' series with bi-han ʚ⁺˖⤷ part one part two part three part four part five

summary: after bi-han says something so incredibly vulnerable you're faced with a choice but how are you meant to reciprocate when you're feeling so confused and how long will he wait for your reply. both action and inaction have consequences.

a/n; it took me a while to get back to my origins but here it is... the boy! for those who were patient during the wait -- thank you very much! i appreciate you all heaps and i hope it was – at the very least – semi-worth the wait <3 (i'm a little unsure about this one so if it's not good i'm really sorry) ૮꒰ o̴̶̷᷄᎔o̴̶̷̥᷅ ꒱ა

warnings: 18+ only, smut, angst, reader cries, comfort(?), swearing, dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v sex, denied orgasms/edging, overstimulation, creampie, mean!bi-han, f!reader, use of she/her pronouns, no y/n used

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

That night, he doesn’t go to your room and you’re too scared to go to his. you hadn’t been able to say anything in reply, you stood there, dumb and scared. You’re not used to being cared for and you weren’t expecting such an admission from him… not now.

But the longer you stared, the colder his expression grew, it’s like you could see in real time how he was putting his walls back into place, disappointed in your lack of reciprocation but too guarded to confront you about it, he wanted to move on and pretend he hadn’t just said that, pretend he hadn’t just ruined everything…. but he hadn’t ruined anything, you had.

In that moment, you didn’t know if the way you felt was anxiety or excitement, it’s still not clear to you now. It’s been a week since that night in the kitchen and he hasn’t approached you. It hurts but you know you’re the one who’s meant to approach him… you’re scared and the longer you leave it, the more scared you get.

You feel like you’ve left it too long but you don’t want to go to him without having something concrete to offer. Telling him you’re confused feels unfair, you want to be able to tell him exactly how you feel.

Training is difficult, you’re trying so hard to focus but it’s not working and you keep getting your ass thrown on the floor. For the fourth time in a row, Kenshi trips you up and has you on the floor below him, he looks down at you and quirks a brow, “You feeling okay?”

Sighing you take the hand he offers you and let him pull you up, “Yes?”

“You don’t sound certain,” he’s a little amused by your unsure tone.

You groan a bit, disgruntled, “I’m distracted.”

“I’ve noticed,” he tilts his head at you, waiting for you to offer him an answer as to why.

“Don’t worry about it, let’s go again,” you move back into a defensive stance, getting ready for him to come at you first.

He crosses his arms over his chest, not moving, “You have lost the past four rounds and you want to keep going? Isn’t your ass bruised enough?”

“Don’t get cocky just cause I’m off my game,” you glower at him.

He scoffs a bit at that, “You’re not just ‘off your game’, you’re not even in the game right now.”

The words make your stance falter, “Okay…ouch.”

His expression is sheepish, a little sorry for being so harsh, “If I drop you again you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

You perk back up, “Easy, I won’t be dropped again.”

…You’re dropped again. It’s a little embarrassing how easily he manages to get you back onto your ass, he was right… you’re not in the game today. You shouldn’t have made that deal… how are you meant to tell him about what Bi-Han said and what you didn’t say.

Kenshi offers his hand to help you up again and as you take it, you feel Bi-Han’s eyes on you. You falter in getting up, resulting in Kenshi using more force to pull you up, you bump into him slightly.

His hands move to either side of your shoulders and pull you back, “Woah, you good?”

Bi-Han’s eyes on you feel weighted, “Hmm? Yeah, sorry…” You take a step away from him, out of his reach.

You’re fighting the urge to look for Bi-Han, too anxious to meet his eyes. Turning your head in the opposite direction, you wait for the feeling of him watching you to stop. When he walks away, you can feel yourself physically relax and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Ah,” Kenshi speaks after having watched the scene unfold in front of him, “I see what has happened now.”

“Nothing happened,” you insist, not wanting to talk about this with anyone, there isn’t anyone you feel like you could talk to regarding this.

“I’m not an idiot,” he rolls his eyes lightly. “We had a deal… you gonna talk to me?”

You huff, “It’s fine, honestly.”

“If that were true, you wouldn’t have been absent all week,” he argues.

Feeling awkward, you try to keep denying, “I’ve not been that bad…”

He gives you a straight on look, one that says ‘yes, yes you have been that bad’.

You give in, “He said something, I didn’t… and now I feel confused and bad…”

“Do you have something you want to say to him?” He asks, simply.

Tipping your head to the side for a moment, you answer, “I have plenty of things I want to say but I’m not sure about anything and I feel like going to him with anything other than certainty in the words I say is a disservice to him…”

He thinks on your words, “I understand your line of thinking… but don’t you think leaving him in the dark and ignoring him is an even bigger disservice?”

Exasperated, you pose, “What good is talking to him when I have nothing of significance to say?”

“What good is ignoring him?” He shuffles his feet and rolls his head, “Listen, I’m gonna be blunt for a second–”

“–Aren’t you always?”

“Hush,” he squints at you in disapproval but continues on, “Are you ignoring him for his sake or for yours? What I mean to say is… is talking to him harder for him or for you. Because personally, I think you’re scared of what the possible consequences of whatever you say might be. If you cared so much about how he was feeling, you wouldn’t be making him wait a week to hear from you.”

You pout and mumble, “He could also approach me…”

“He said something and you didn’t, isn’t it your turn to talk?” He shrugs.

It’s annoying that you told him so little but he’s inferred a lot from it… you don’t know if he’s completely correct but you know he’s not all wrong. Part of you knew that ignoring Bi-Han wasn’t fair to him but you don’t think you’re wrong about not being able to answer him properly being unfair either.

It comes down to what is less fair right now and annoyingly, Kenshi is right, in that it’s less fair to be ignoring him after he was so vulnerable. You’re just worried you might have waited too long and now he won’t be able to give himself that piece of you that he was willing to a week ago. Though… that’s probably the consequence you’ve been so scared of.

“I can see I’ve given you a lot to think about,” Kenshi’s voice brings you out of your thoughts.

You make eye contact with him, “I don’t know what you mean, we never spoke about this and even if we did… everything you said was so far off base that I couldn’t relate it to anything that has happened to me even if I wanted to…”

He barks a small laugh at your statement, “Alright, I get the message, we never spoke about this, I didn’t hear anything, in fact… I’m not even sure I know you.”

You smile softly, “Thank you, Kenshi.”

He gives you a puzzled look, “I’m sorry? Do I know you?”

You laugh at that, “Come on grandpa, it’s just after midday, nearly dinner time for you.”

“Har har,” he begins walking away from you at your bad joke and you have to jog to keep up with him.

❆˖°

It’s hard to think, it isn’t normally, at least not when you’re here but you have too many thoughts to sort through for the venue to have any impact on them. The rock is as it always is, it’s cold but the view is pretty and the air is clean, nature is humming and the earth is still, and in spite of all these things, in spite of how much comfort the elements grace you with, you are frustrated to the bone.

Are you still in a relationship? You’ve not spoken in over a week now… it’s not even like you’re fighting, you just aren’t talking. The regret you feel is digging straight down into your core and settling deep, you miss him so much, does he miss you?

All at once, you’re too aware of how you’re sabotaging yourself, it’s not that you’re uncertain about how you feel… you know very well how you feel. You’re just not as brave as Bi-Han, because instead of saying aloud how you feel, you fell silent. Is it too late to tell him you’re scared too? That you’re falling for him too?

Gods, you’ve messed everything up, he was so open with you, it was a moment that by all means called for that kind of vulnerability and you dropped it all. Remembering his face hurts more than anything, if he’s blaming himself even a little bit for your mistake, for your inaction, you’re going to jump off a cliff.

Against your will, your eyes well with tears, you try to hold them back but ultimately fail. You decide to let yourself have this quiet moment to cry, folding in on yourself, tucking your head into your knees and wrapping your arms around yourself. You can’t even pretend to ask how it all got this way; you know how it got to be this way; it was by your own hand.

The pair of you had parted that night, going different directions, few words spoken other than goodnights. The last thing you had said to him before you left for your room had been another thank you for dinner, too casual for the words he had spoken.

You need to stop crying, it’s self-pitying at this point, you have literally no one else to blame but yourself. You need to get over this inability to be cared for.

“I’d ask if you were okay but I can clearly see that is not the case,” Liu Kang’s voice from behind shocks you. Hastily, you wipe at your eyes as he comes into your view, “You missed dinner… again.”

You sniffle, “Ah, I didn’t realise, sorry…”

He ignores your lie, he knows you’ve been avoiding group dinners, “He’s worried you know.”

Doubting Liu Kang’s knowledge on this, you ask, “Did he tell you that?”

“He did not have to, it’s quite obvious,” His tone is calm, like it always is.

All you can manage to say is, “I messed up…”

“Can you not fix it?” He hums in thought.

Your hands smooth over your knees, “I don’t think so.”

He immediately follows up with, “Have you tried?”

The question makes you feel embarrassed because, “…No, I haven’t.”

“Then how do you know?” You must look pitiful when you look up at him, eyes wet and round from crying. He places a hand atop your head in a soothing way, it’s warm, “Try.”

Voice breaking, you ask, “What if he doesn’t forgive me?”

“You live with the consequences,” He says it easily, like that wouldn’t be the hardest thing to do.

Hesitating, you add, “I don’t know if I can… Liu, I’m scared…”

“Be scared,” he smiles at you, “And do it anyways.”

“It can’t be as easy as you’re making it sound,” you slump down slightly.

His hand moves to your back, “I did not say it would be easy, I said talk to him… even if it is scary and hard.”

You face away from him, feeling emotional, “You’re annoying.”

He doesn’t take your words to heart, “Only because I am right and you know it,” he removes his hand from you and sits beside you on the rock.

Turning back to him, you rest your head on your knees again, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“You may ask,” he answers, making it clear if he doesn’t like the question he won’t answer.

Watching carefully, you ask him, “Have you ever been in love?”

He looks down, his mind drifting, “I have been, a long time ago now…”

“Was it scary?” You feel small and silly.

“Anything new or grand is scary,” he looks to you, “But it was worth it and I’d do it again.”

You feel compelled to ask for details, “What happened?”

“Far too much, too long ago,” he dismisses.

Wanting more, you press, “Did you get a happy ending?”

“In a way,” he looks solemn but you believe him.

Instead of asking for details, you ask something cliche, “How did you know you were in love? …Did you know you were in love… or did you just think you were?”

“Are they not essentially the same thing?” He looks up and sighs, “Only you will know, it’s not something to be described and it’s different for everyone. There is no one way to love.” He looks at you carefully, “If you are asking me because you think I have some hidden knowledge others don’t, I am sorry to let you down but I think my answer is pretty close to what most people would say.”

“You didn’t let me down… I think you’ve helped me sort some things internally,” you offer him a genuine smile, it’s small but it’s real. Tipping sideways, you lean your head on his shoulder, “Thank you for indulging me.”

He looks up to the stars, “Anytime.”

You think you may have unintentionally gotten him to open up about something he’s not spoken on in a long time and you’re grateful that he did just to answer your silly questions. You wonder if him being able to talk about it helped at all, at the very least, you hope whatever he remembered tonight didn’t hurt too much.

❆˖°

You’ve been given a lot to think about, today has been incredibly overwhelming, the whole week has been but today more so. Both Kenshi and Liu Kang have given you their advice and they both essentially said the same thing, it’s the kind of advice you’d give to anyone in your position – talk to him.

It’s getting late but you leave your room to sneak to the kitchen, just because you haven’t been going to group dinners doesn’t mean you haven’t been eating. You’ve made a habit of lurking in the kitchen after hours to eat whatever you can find; you think Liu noticed pretty early on what you were doing because you’ll frequently find a bowl of whatever they had that night left for you.

The air is cold and you feel stupid, carefully wandering the grounds in your pyjamas and a robe, getting caught wouldn’t really be all that bad, you’d just look like an idiot. The kitchen is warmer though and the indoors welcome you inside, you immediately start looking for something to eat, accidentally knocking into some utensils, the clanging sound startling you, your hands frantically reach out to stop the awful noise.

Bi-Han’s deep voice fills your ears, “Well, at least I know you have been eating.”

It’s late but the chill runs down your spine, you were too busy with the noise you made to notice his presence behind you. You’re stock still, wondering how you’re meant to react, should you apologise now? Should you pretend it’s fine? Like you have no idea what he’s talking about? You feel nervous, heart hammering in your chest, you don’t even know if you can bring yourself to look at him. After everything you feel ashamed, how could you meet his eyes–

He's tired as he sighs out, “Look at me.”

Your eyes stay on the utensils you just ran into, hands limp at you sides, “Uhm… I can’t…”

“Can’t or won’t?” You can hear his frustration growing.

How are you meant to answer that? Pausing awkwardly, you eventually say, “Either? Both?”

He grumbles your name lowly… unhappy with your answer, he moves closer to you, body just to the side of you. You always thought you’d be the kind of person to fight or flee when confronted but instead you’re completely frozen… He’s so close to you, close enough to touch, you’ve missed him so much and now he’s within arm’s reach and you don’t feel like you have the right to touch him.

Before you lose your nerve and all ability to think, you force out, “You’re too close… I can’t… think.”

You wonder what kind of expression he made when you said that, you didn’t mean for it to be unkind. He doesn’t complain though, he silently takes a step away from you. It’s unclear to you if he has nothing to say or if he’s patiently waiting for you to speak first, if you were a gambling man, you’d bet on the latter. Despite his outward behaviours, he usually has something to say.

This is harder than you thought, you haven’t had a chance to think about what exactly you want to say to him. You know you wanted to talk to him the next time you saw him, you just didn’t know it would be so soon. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

He scoffs slightly, “Who’s avoiding whom?”

You thought he had been avoiding you as well but maybe he was giving you space, “What did you come here for?”

He avoids your question with his own, “What else would I come here for, other than you?”

“Bi-Han…”

“I’ve been waiting for you to come to me… In your own time but I’m not a patient man and this is getting annoying.” He hesitates before continuing, “If you don’t feel the same way… then forget I said anything.”

Shaking your head, you cement, “No.”

“No?” His tone is gruff.

You finally look at him, “I don’t want to forget something like that, you were honest and vulnerable… Bi-Han, I don’t want you regretting that.”

His arms are crossed over his chest, his expression unmoving, “Could’ve fooled me–”

“­–I was surprised… I was scared… I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about me but I’m not exactly the best at all of this,” you gesture between the two of you, hoping he understands because you can’t find the right words right now.

He’s frowning, “I didn’t ask you to be the best but when I say something like that, I at least expect something other than ‘thanks for dinner’.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he adds, “You also didn’t need to avoid me after.”

“I didn’t see you trying especially hard to talk to me afterwards,” this is bad, you’re feeling defensive, you’re not ready for this yet.

“You wouldn’t even spare a glance in my direction…” He sighs, “I thought if I gave you space, you would eventually explain things to me.”

Trying to defend yourself, you say, “I was going to!”

 “When?” His voice raises slightly with his question.

You’re frustrated, he’s surprisingly adept at communicating, you’re feeling more ashamed now… how is he able to better express himself than you. “I don’t like this conversation…”

“And you think I do? You think this is fun for me?” He moves closer again, standing in front of you, you’d forgotten how big he was… “The woman I am in a relationship with has been ignoring me for an entire week after I said I was falling for her and you think I’m having the time of my life? Do you realise how tedious and annoying I find talking about my feelings to be?”

Ah, he’s angry and you can’t even blame him, you think you would be angry with yourself too… in fact, you are.

He takes in and releases a deep breath, “Explain it to me, explain what happened.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden, “I got scared… I wasn’t ready to be confronted with my own feelings. I froze up… and then I didn’t come to you because I didn’t have anything concrete to give you and I felt like you deserved… a real response.”

His eyes close in thought for a second, “You’re the only person here whose company I actually enjoy, I’d rather you be confused and talk to me than be certain and avoiding me.”

“Are you mad?” It’s a question with an obvious answer.

He doesn’t hesitate, “I’m furious.”

Yeah, you expected that much, “I’m sorry…”

He ignores your apology, not really looking for you to be sorry, “Did you find your answer?”

“Huh?”

“To what I said.”

“I did,” you shuffle from side to side, “I was going to talk to you… next time I saw you.”

He doesn’t speak but you can tell he’s telling you that time is now.

The mood doesn’t feel right, how can you tell a man that you’re also falling for him when he’s looking at you all angrily, “Well, I don’t really want to answer now… you’re all angry at me.”

“Woman,” his tone is restrained, trying not to yell at you, “You’re torturing me, you know that right?”

You swear you can see the veins in his neck twitching, like he’s a second away from exploding on the spot, “This doesn’t really… there aren’t really… UGH.” You raise your arms in exasperation, “The vibes aren’t especially romantic right now, Bi-Han.”

“And whose fault is that?” His tone is still firm but he’s growing to be somewhat amused, your clear struggle almost making up for being ignored.

“I feel embarrassed,” you know he knows what you want to say now.

He’s being cruel though, he’s punishing you, “Are you breaking up with me?”

“Of course not!–”

“–Then spit it out,” he interjects.

“Bi-Han,” you’re pouting now, “You already know what I want to say, can’t we leave it at that?”

“Absolutely not.”

He is giving you no mercy, not here, not tonight, not after what you did, “I feel the same as you.”

“Not good enough.”

You’d scowl at him but you’ve not earned that right, “This is hard.”

“I know,” he says.

Looking to him, you add, “I’m scared.”

He repeats, “I know.”

“I’m falling for you, Bi-Han,” as hard as it felt to get the words out, when you’re already saying them, they flow past your lips easily.

He looks a little lost at first, like he’s swimming through countless thoughts and feelings, like he’s not quite sure where he’s going to end up but then his eyes glint mischievously, “Thanks.”

You deflate slightly and mumble out, eyes looking down, “You’re welcome.”

He moves closer to you, sighing, “Ahhh,” he’s right in front of you, you can see his feet in front of your own, “Can I be this close to you, or are you still having a hard time thinking?”

You ignore his question, “Are you still mad?”

He considers, “Somewhat.”

“I’m sorry,” you can’t look up at him, you feel like a crybaby because your eyes are welling with tears, feeling incredibly guilty, “I’m really sorry, Bi-Han.”

“Shhh,” He hushes, his hand reaching out and resting on the back of your head, he pulls you forward so you’re leaning on his chest, “I know you are.”

“I don’t want to break up, I missed you a lot,” you don’t wrap your arms around him even though you really want to.

He steps closer again, his arms coming around you fully while yours hang limply at your sides, “Mmm,” he hums in understanding, “We aren’t breaking up, don’t cry over something like that.”

“You’re still mad though,” you sniffle.

“Yeah, I am…” he leans down, his head coming to the side of yours, nuzzling you slightly, “But I get to be, you went off and got all caught up in your own head, left me here worrying about you,” his lips brush against your cheekbone, “So, I’m going to be a little mad while I hold you close and tell you how much I like you.”

He kisses your cheek before moving his head and resting his chin against the top of yours, just holding you like this. “Hug me back or I’m gonna get mad again,” he might be joking but he also might not be.

Your arms wrap around him, tugging him closer, missing him so much. Being able to touch him, having him touch you, it’s making you dizzy, “I missed you a lot.”

He huffs, “You put me through it you know? Didn’t know if you were eating properly… didn’t know if you…” He grunts, “Didn’t know if you still wanted me…”

“I’m–”

“–Don’t apologise again, that’s not what I want… just want you to know that this was awful,” his lips move beside your ear, “Don’t do this to me again, not over something like this.” He pulls back so he can look you in the eyes, free arm still holding you to him, “Next time, talk to me properly.”

The irony is not lost on you, how you had wanted him to talk to you about his feelings properly, only to be unable to do the same. It feels ridiculous, you feel ridiculous and it’s frustrating you.  

You start before trailing off, “Bi-Han…”

He groans, “…If you’re going to apologise again, I don’t want to hear it.”

Pushing on, you insist, “But I am sorry, I just… sometimes I need time to process things and–”

“–Be quiet now.” He cuts you off, he doesn’t need some grand explanation from you, he understands what happened. He had opened his confession for the depth of his feelings by telling you he was frightened, he gets it.

Sulking, you complain, “I feel silly…”

“You are…” He leans in closer to you, “…But I still like you so it’s okay,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours.

It feels like your skin is on fire, his proximity to you feels brand new. His lips grazing yours is electric, you want him to kiss you so badly but you don’t move, not willing to mess it up. He’s managed to fully distract you from the comment he made, snarking back at him not even a passing thought in your head, the only thing you want is for him to kiss you.

Bi-Han can’t help the small and amused smile on his lips at how you look incredibly desperate for him to do something as simple as kiss you. He considers not kissing you, just for moment, just to see the way your face would fall and how you’d pout all pathetically at him. But like he said, he’s not a patient man and he has missed you.

Closing the almost non-existent gap, he kisses you fully, his lips on yours reverent, he really had missed you. He pulls back too soon for your liking, if the sad whine you let out is anything to go off of. The sound you make has him almost caving but he thinks that punishing you by depriving you of physical contact will result in you doing something much more interesting.

“You should eat something,” he breathes against you.

Ignoring him, you move in to press your lips onto his again, he’s so close, but he’s a dick and he moves back at the last second. It feels taunting, cruel, you hate this about him, mostly you hate that you like this about him.

Why is he choosing now to be mean? “Didn’t you miss kissing me?”

He huffs, “Oh, that’s a harsh thing to say, of course I did.”

Exasperated, you complain, “Then­–”

Raising a single brow at you he encourages you to keep going, but you stop. You aren’t even really sure what you want to say, plus you feel a little at a disadvantage with your usual back and forth. You normally are but especially right now.

He shakes his head slightly, “No, go on, finish what you were saying.” You stand silently in front of him and he continues, “Feeling guilty?”

“A little…” It’s not lost on you how he’s not used the pet name he has for you a single time tonight.

“Don’t,” he’s moving in close and planting a full kiss on your mouth before you can fully register it. He doesn’t linger for long, his lips on yours for a mere moment before he’s pulling away and walking through the kitchen.

You’re stood stunned, stuck to your spot, mind reeling over his kiss. How he manages to kiss you in a way that affects you so deeply, even when it’s just a fleeting moment, you have no idea.

His words from behind you catch your attention, “You hungry or not?”

“Yes,” Control of your body comes back to you as your brain reboots at his question.

Bi-Han complains to himself mostly, voice unimpressed, “Dinner wasn’t that good tonight…”

You laugh a little, “Whatever was left is fine.”

Grumbling slightly, he reheats your food for you and doesn’t leave while you eat, you have a feeling his reluctance to leave your side is due heavily to you avoiding him for as long as you did and you feel really bad about it. You wonder if this overwhelming guilt will ever leave you, looking at him and how doting he is on you even after you were an asshole makes your chest squeeze.

After you’ve eaten, he walks you back to your room, his side brushing yours the whole way back. He’s so close to you and you want to hold his hand but you’re not sure you’re allowed to. It’s dumb, holding his hand would’ve been something you’d do without any hesitation previously but now everything you want to do has you thinking hard about whether or not you’re allowed to.

In the end, he grabs your hand himself, frustrated with how you kept glancing down at his. He was wondering how long it would take for you to reach out to him but as your room was getting closer and closer, he was growing more and more annoyed with how you had yet to even try and move your hand to his.

Your hand feels cold even to him, “Why are you out in so little?”

Shrugging, you answer, “I was only going to eat quickly and rush back to my room…”

His tone is unamused, “You need to wear more at night.”

“Noted,” your reply is unconcerned, you feel fine, a little chilly but it’s not like it’s going to kill you.

At your door, you aren’t sure what you expected but it certainly wasn’t him refusing to come inside. You had walked into the room easily, tugging him behind you mindlessly, only to be met with resistance. He’d pulled back slightly, not moving from the threshold.

Now, his large frame stands in front of you, imposing. Face unreadable, you have no way of knowing what he’s thinking, you liked to think you had gotten pretty good at understanding him but right now, you’re at a complete and utter lost.

Feeling sheepish, you stumble over your words, embarrassed, “Oh… sorry, I don’t know why I assumed… you would want to come inside…”

He still doesn’t make any obvious show of emotion, “I do.”

Your expression shifts to one of confusion, “Come inside then?”

“I can’t.”

What is wrong with him? “I’m not understanding.”

“You should go to bed,” he pulls you to him, “I’ll see you tomorrow…” His voice is low as he hold you close, his lips pressing to yours softly, a goodnight kiss.

You sigh into him, “Bi-Han…”

“Good night,” his hands leave you.

You repeat his words, though it comes out more like a question, “…Good night?”

He walks off in the direction you came, trailing back to his own room. He was always somewhat of an odd character but this was an absurd interaction. Flopping into bed, you get comfortable under the covers and drift. Sleeping okay for the first time in a while, mood feeling slightly better after being able to see and talk to him.

❆˖°

The room is cold and it’s early in the morning, you can’t bring yourself to even try and leave the warmth of your covers. Someone will come for you if you don’t get up soon but you’re so warm and so comfy and it’s hard getting up in the morning, especially lately.

Memories of last night and talking to Bi-Han are swarming your mind, it’s too early to think about it all. He didn’t say he forgave you, he seemed like he was okay but the idea of him never really forgiving you hurts you deeply. He said he was still somewhat mad… what does that even mean? How do you make it up to him? Does he just need time?

There are so many questions you still have and you would’ve asked them last night if you hadn’t gotten distracted by how guilty you felt. You want to see Bi-Han again but you’re so unsure of yourself and how you should behave with him. He didn’t hesitate to reach out to you but every time you want to reach for him, you hesitate and it’s making you restless.

An abrupt knock on the door startles you but you tuck back in under your covers and pretend to still be asleep, not wanting to get up yet. They seem to wait a moment before a few more knocks tap at your door, a bit more forceful this time. You consider getting up and letting them in this time but you ultimately can’t bring yourself to get up and your head ends up under the covers as well.

The door sliding open surprises you, having thought they would just walk away when you didn’t reply. Other than the door opening and closing, it’s silent, you can’t even hear their footsteps on the floorboards. Are they even walking into the room? You’re confused but you keep your head tucked under the covers.

A few moments go by in the quiet room and if you couldn’t feel an overwhelming presence, you’d assume they had just looked in for a moment before leaving. You don’t know what you should do next, revealing yourself just proves you were awake the whole time and you’re unwilling to give up that easy.

While considering your next move, Bi-Han’s voice cuts through the quiet, “You and I both know you’re awake under there.”

You don’t speak and you certainly don’t move, you aren’t really quite sure why you don’t just get up but enough time has gone by now that you’re a little embarrassed and the longer you wait to get up the more stupid it all feels, so you think it might just be best if you stay under the blanket.

His voice comes again, unamused, “Are you really going to make me pull you out of the bed by your ankles?” Impatient taps of his foot hitting the floor reach your ears, the only sound you’ve heard from him other than his words.

Now, if you were smart and not just coming out of sleep, you’d recognise this as the threat it is but for some reason you had assumed he was only joking… something Bi-Han doesn’t do often. In one swift moment, the blanket is ripped from you and you are abruptly pulled halfway down the bed by your ankles. A small, shocked sound leaves you at the speed of which it all happens, the cold tickling your skin in a way that would have you complaining if you weren’t distracted.

Still, you make no move to roll over and give away that you are awake, and again, you have no idea why you’re committing to this so hard. Bi-Han grunts at you, “There is no way you’re asleep after that.” You don’t hear him but you feel his hand on your hip, “And don’t think I didn’t hear you just now.” The hand he has on you flips you onto your back easily.

He’s standing back and looking down at you, exasperated look on his face, his eyes boring into yours, he’s at a complete loss for why you did all this. Smiling sheepishly, you chirp up at him, “Good morning…”

He continues to look at you, sighing slightly. He looks good from this angle, the way he’s looking down at you, his chest, your thoughts are quickly heading in a suggestive direction.

The cold reminds you of its presence, pursing your lips, you ask him, “…Could I have my blanket back?”

His reply is monosyllabic, “No.”

“Well, that’s just not nice.” You go to lean up while grumbling about his unkindness but he pushes you back down, “Hey! What was that for? You’re the one who wanted me to get up.”

His head tilts to the side, ���Yes but now I can’t help but enjoy this view.”

Raising a brow, you ask, “So, am I just meant to lay here while you get an eyeful?”

“Yes.”

You huff slightly as you move to get up again, “Bi-Han, don’t be…” your words trail off as he leans down at the same time as you get up, his face in front of your own.

He moves in more, asking, “‘Don’t be’ what?”

You can’t help but stumble over your words as you look up at him, “I… uhh… I don’t… know…”

He hums at you, amused, his eyes flick to your lips and for a brief moment you think he might kiss you. His lips close to yours “You need to get up,” he says it as he pulls away which makes you deflate.

You go to flop back onto the bed but he grabs both your arms and pulls you up until you’re standing on your feet, he sighs at you, “You really made me pull you out of bed.”

“Let me get back in it,” you struggle against his grip.

“Stop being dramatic,” he doesn’t let you go, knowing your first move would be to grab your blanket and curl back up in bed.

Lamenting, you whinge, “Why are you the one who had to come get me.”

“Oh?” he gives you a look, “Would you prefer someone else come get you?”

“No…” you deny, before adding “…But if I did… maybe someone who would be nicer to me…”

“Hmmm,” he considers you for a moment more, moving in closer to eye you carefully, “That’s too bad,” he murmurs before planting a soft, single kiss on your lips, “Since it’s just me who’s willing to enter your room this early,” his lips brush against yours with his words.

You want him to kiss you again but he doesn’t, “Now get ready for the day,” he pulls away completely and pats your head once, “And don’t get back in bed.” Then he walks away and out the door.

Today sucks, you don’t want to train, you don’t want to meditate, you don’t want to talk to people, you want to lay in bed and be warm and dramatic. Things have been stressful lately and you haven’t had time to just stop. Every day is the same thing and it’s exhausting, plus your brain is like mush at the moment.

This thing with Bi-Han… what happens after all of this? What are you expecting to happen… See? This is why you just want to get back into bed, none of your thoughts lately have been particularly inviting. You don’t want to think.

❆˖°

They fucking sidelined you, you were right, today sucks. You didn’t want to think… so, you didn’t. Instead going all in on training, focusing on nothing but pushing yourself and you guess, you freaked everyone out and got told to sit out for a bit.

Watching is boring and maybe you’re pouting as you watch the guys spar and maybe you’re sighing loudly every few minutes so they can hear you. If you weren’t an adult you’d maybe kick your feet about it all, you’ve been restless and not wanting to think and you get sidelined, now?

Honestly, you’re surprised they didn’t sideline you before yesterday, though you were just sucking then, now you seem like an insane person. This is worse than when you sprained your ankle, at least you couldn’t spar then, you can now and you’re still forced to just sit here and watch.

As you let out another melodramatic sigh, Johnny groans back at you with as much energy, exasperated by you, “What is wrong with you today?”

“Nothing,” you bristle, not appreciating the way he phrased that question.

“Yeah, that’s why you were on the verge of actually training yourself to death,” he leaves Kenshi and flops down onto his ass beside you, “Spill.”

Kenshi stands in front of you both, looking down at you with a single raised brow, you know what he’s asking.

Johnny verbalises what Kenshi was silently asking though, “You and Bi-Han make up yet?”

You side eye him, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Come on, everyone knows you two are on the outs, hell, you stopped coming to group meals,” Johnny doesn’t even let you try and lie, clearly not interested in hearing what you’d come up with.

Grimacing, you note, “You’re all too interested in my personal life.”

Johnny shrugs, “Your own fault, you’re sleeping with the scariest brother and you also let your feelings overwhelm your actions.”

“Have more sympathy, Cage,” Kenshi kicks Johnny’s foot.

Johnny scoffs, “Don’t kick me.”

You interrupt before their argument can get too out of hand, “Okay, well you two have been very helpful, you can leave me alone now.”

“Hey, I am trying to help,” Johnny places his hand on your shoulder.

You place your hand over his, “You really wanna help?” He nods at you, and you continue, “Let me train.”

Both Kenshi and Johnny answer simultaneously, “No.” Look at that, they both agreed on something.

You groan loudly and dramatically, head tipping back with it, very unhappy. How are you meant to go through today if you can’t distract yourself? It gets a boring around here. A shadow looms over you as your head is tipped back and when you squint your eyes open, you see it’s Bi-Han.

Looking down at you, he asks, “What’s wrong with you?”

“They won’t let me train,” you immediately accuse.

He glances at Johnny and Kenshi and Johnny pokes your side, unhappy, “Nobody likes a snitch.” He looks at Bi-Han, “It’s for her own good, she was gonna hurt herself.”

Leaning over to Johnny, you repeat his words, “Nobody likes a snitch.” Ultimately though, you get up and face Bi-Han.

His expression is unreadable, his tone even, “Come with me.” It’s all he says before he’s walking off, expecting you to follow him.

You glance back at the guys, blaming them with your eyes. Johnny raises his arms in defence, “Your own fault.”

First, you flip him off before jogging to keep up with Bi-Han. He leads you to a private area of the grounds, you have a feeling you know what he’s going to say.

He turns back to you, his eyes looking you over carefully, “Are you okay?”

Okay… not quite what you were expecting. You were expecting him to scold you about taking care of yourself or something, not check in on you. “I’m fine,” you shrug dismissively.

His expression displays his doubt, knowing better, “You didn’t even want to get out of bed this morning and now you’re training so hard you’re worrying your friends. Something is wrong.”

“I’m just…” you sigh, annoyed with yourself, “I’m just having a bad day Bi-Han… I have so many questions I want to ask you, I have so many concerns over the future, I have so many thoughts and feelings and they’re frustrating me all, so I just wanted to… not think… for a little bit.”

He doesn’t move, “Ask.”

“What?”

He clarifies, “Ask your questions, I will do my best to answer and that should help, right?”

You intake a deep breath and begin asking your questions, “When you said you’re somewhat mad, how mad? Do you need time? Should I try and make it up to you? If so, how do I do that? Also, am I allowed to touch you? Or do I have to ask first? Are you going to resent me later? After everything here is finished and things go back to normal… are we just not going to see each other anymore? Would–”

“–Calm down.” His hands reach out to you, one soothes over your head, the other pulling you towards him, “You’re working yourself up,” he observes, forehead resting against yours, “Take some deep breaths.”

You listen to him and try to calm your breathing, not realising how worked up you had got yourself. Your rapid-fire questions making you anxious and fidgety.

“Now,” he pulls his head back but grabs hold of your hand, letting you know he’s still nearby, “I am still somewhat mad because it’s still fresh but I don’t resent you and I’m not going to. You don’t have to do anything to make it up to me and I don’t need time. I’ve had enough time; I just want you.”

You’re still trying to calm down, heart pounding in your chest though you have a feeling that’s starting to have more to do with him answering your questions. He continues replying to what he remembers, “You don’t have to ask to touch me, though watching you struggle has been mildly amusing.”

You scowl at him for that and he smiles tenderly at it, his hand moving to cradle your face. Opening your mouth, you go to scold him but he shushes you, “Quiet, I’m not done answering yet.”

He continues, “I don’t know what normal is to you, but this is not abnormal to me, I don’t know what will happen and nothing is guaranteed.” It’s not lost on you that those last few words are your own mirrored back at you, “But don’t be ridiculous, of course we’re still going to see each other, sweet girl.”

And maybe it’s his assurances or maybe it’s the fact he finally used that term of endearment on you again but your eyes well with tears and you tuck your head into his chest. Seeking comfort in his embrace, not for the first time and certainly not for the last either. He holds you close to him, to his heart, feeling more like himself than he has in a while.

He holds you until you stop crying, his hands soothing over you. When you’ve finally calmed down, you reach up and pull his face to yours, kissing him gently, lips brushing his, “Will you stay with me tonight… please?”

He laughs airily against you, “How can I say no to that?”

He can feel the way you smile before you pull back, “Good.” You linger a moment more, “I should get back… but, thank you… for being patient.”

You jog back off towards where you were training, feeling a touch lighter. Maybe things are still a little uncertain and maybe you’re still a little scared about how much you’re feeling but you’re not alone and remembering that helps.

❆˖°

Waiting is hard, it shouldn’t be, in fact most people would probably find waiting easy but it’s frustrating to you. While waiting for Bi-Han, you have tidied your room and made your bed, you had left it this morning. Now you’re just stuck waiting for Bi-Han to come by but this is getting old fast, you can’t relax enough to read or do any other kind of activity to distract yourself. So, you do the most reasonable thing… and put on your robe and leave your room to wander around aimlessly.

You don’t get very far before spotting Bi-Han while you’re out, he gives you a look that lets you know you’ve been caught but you turn tail and run back for your room in hopes you can get there before him and play it off like it wasn’t you he just saw.

When you’re back in your room, you grab the book off your nightstand and sit on the bed, trying to look as casual as possible. Opening the book to the place you left off; you pretend to be very interested in what’s happening. You jump when Bi-Han slides your room door open and closed behind him but you don’t look to him.

He’s stoic, still, arms crossed and waiting for you to acknowledge him. You pretend to finish your page and flick to the next, he lets out an amused exhale through his nose and takes the book from you.

“I was reading that,” you complain.

He takes your bookmark from you as well and places it inside the book, but not before flicking back a page, “Maybe… but not just now you weren’t.” He puts the book down on the table.

Frowning, you lie, “Yeah I was.”

“Really,” he raises a brow at you, “Then who was the sexy, little thing I saw running around outside in your robe?” He looks pointedly at the robe you didn’t take off before getting on the bed.

You squint at him, “I think it’s messed up that you would ask me that.”

“So, it wasn’t you? Should I go and try and find out who that was then?” His thumb points back over his shoulder, gesturing at the outside.

Grumbling, you admit all too easily, “It was me.”

“Obviously,” he rolls his eyes, “What did I tell you about going out in so little?”

You look upwards in thought, “Uhh… that it’s a great idea and I should do it more to embrace the beauty of the cold?”

“I remember saying something entirely different,” he hums, “Something more along the lines of – don’t do it.”

“Our signals must’ve gotten crossed, it happens,” you shake your head.

His hands flick at you, asking to give him room. “I’m so sure,” he mumbles as you move over to make space for him, “What were you even going out for?” He asks as he sits down beside you.

You sit up properly and face him, “I was bored of waiting… was gonna wander around for a bit.”

His back is resting on the headboard, arms forever crossed, “And your plan if you ran into me was to run away? Even though you knew I was staying with you tonight.”

Rubbing at the back of your head, you give a flimsy excuse, “Okay well, I wasn’t really sure when to expect you and I feel like I waited a respectable amount of time before… wandering.”

He scratches at the side of his cheek, “You’re not very capable of just sitting still.”

“I am too,” you pout at him.

Shaking his head, he says, “I wasn’t asking, I was making an observation.”

You only frown at him in response.

He sighs at you, “Ah, don’t sulk about it–”

“–I sit still for hours at a time meditating,” you remind. “I can sit still.”

“Then next time, just wait for me.” His hands reach out for you, “Instead of walking around in the cold.”

You let yourself be pulled into him, falling easily against his chest. “Next time, you should be quicker,” your words are mumbled against him. Both your hands press against his chest to push yourself back, “I feel weird Bi-Han.”

He hums at you in acknowledgement, “Weird how?”

“I can’t help but still feel a little unsure of us now…” Your eyebrows must be scrunching because he does the same move to you that you do to him and smooths between them with his thumb, “…I think it might be guilt.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” he looks you over carefully, “I want you to be the same as you always are. Stubborn and sure.”

You chuckle, “That’s what you think of me?”

“I think many things of you, I very seldom am not thinking something of you,” his hand cups your cheek, “I think you are brilliant and I want to be witness to it,” his thumb brushes over your lip, “So, stop feeling guilty, I can’t witness your brilliance if you’re hiding it from me.”

He manoeuvres you to straddle him properly and then kisses you deeply, his tongue licking into your mouth. His hand angling you so he can kiss you how he likes, it’s hot and messy, and you’re getting lost in it. When he separates the kiss, he trails his lips down your cheek, to your neck, kissing and nibbling at your skin.

He speaks against you, voice low, “Conversely, I could always fuck the guilt out of you.”

You gasp at his words, not entirely expecting them, “Not sure that would work.”

“I could always try,” he latches onto your neck, where it meets your shoulder and sucks hard. Leaving a dark mark behind, “Shouldn’t have avoided me for so long, all my marks have faded.”

Huffing, your hands reach for his shoulders, fisting his clothing, “You can’t possibly expect me to always be covered in hickeys.”

He questions, “No?”

“No,” you confirm, head slipping back, offering him more room to work.

His voice vibrates through your skin, “Maybe you shouldn’t be so willing to receive them then.”

“M-maybe you’re right,” your words falter when he nips at a particularly tender part of your neck, knowing you too well.

His hands slip under your shirt, caressing your skin, big hands splayed under your breasts, resting on your ribcage. He’s kissing you again, desperately, properly, no longer interested in teasing you with fleeting and soft kisses. He wants it all and he wants it now.

Your tongue meets his and your heart stutters in your chest, he groans against you when you grind down into him. Mind half gone and attention on his mouth, on his hands, barely registering your own movements.

His hands on you round to your back, tugging you into him, your chest meeting his. Your arms loop around his neck, holding him close, your breaths huffed and lips rushed on his. Your lips part and he holds you as he moves up, laying you gently against the mattress and hovering over you, your heads at the wrong end of the bed.

Untangling from you, he grabs at your hips and pulls your pants and underwear off in one motion. They’re chucked unceremoniously on the floor somewhere, not of any concern to you or Bi-Han. Right now, Bi-Han looks beautiful like this, eyes glazing slightly, focused on a million things at once but arriving at the same conclusion.

He’s back at your neck and trailing down, shoving your shirt up your body, lips moving to your exposed skin and continuing his descent. It’s making you nervous, “Bi-Han, you don’t have to…”

His forehead rests on your ribcage, stopping at your hesitance, “‘I don’t have to’, what?” When you don’t respond to him, he pulls back to look you in the eyes, “I’ve not had you in a week and now you’re telling me I don’t have to put my mouth on you? This isn’t just for you, sweet girl.”

You feel shy, “I just thought…”

He’s not entertaining your line of thinking, telling you like it is, “You thought wrong.” He leans back into your skin, kissing you softly, continuing downwards, “Can I lick your pussy now? Or are you going to make me say please.”

God, you bristle at his words, his deep voice, it’s making your pulse thump deliciously, “Ahh,” you can’t stop the gasp you let out when he kisses the top of your thigh, “A p-please would be nice.”

His stupid eyebrow raises at you, “Would it now?”

“Mhm,” you nod your head warily.

He clicks his tongue, “You want me to beg to taste you, to put my mouth on you?”

He’s flustering you, he’s so close to your cunt, he could lean in and easily put his mouth on you like this and you wouldn’t even be mad.

Before you can reply, he speaks again, “Please let me tongue fuck you.” His words are gruff, unamused.

You’re so shocked, all you can manage is a meek, “Okay.”

“Hope you know, you’ll be paying for that later…” You don’t even really register his threat because he immediately follows it up with, “Look at you,” his thumb swipes through your folds, collecting your slick and spreading it even more, “All worked up, you like when I ask please, when I’m nice?”

“Bi-Han,” your stomach does flips when he rests the pad of his thumb against your clit.

“Missed this sight,” he ignores the call of his name, distracted by how wet you are for him, how you clench pathetically around nothing.

You go to call out to him again, get him to move his thumb, touch you properly, something but he’s beaten you to the punch and is licking up the length of your cunt. The moan you let out is not one you expected and your hand moves to cover your mouth, the sound shocking you. It was far too desperate for how little he’s touched you. He hums appreciatively though, relishing in the sound made.

If he were willing to part from you, he’d tell you to move that fucking hand but his mouth is somewhat indisposed at the moment. He can manage however, a sharp glare at you and your hand, a wordless interaction you understand, uncovering your mouth tentatively, like you’re scared you might make that same noise again.

It’s wet and sloppy and he’s making an obscene mess of you, his mouth moving from sucking on your clit to fucking his tongue inside you. Taking his time to practically make out with your cunt, leaning into it more so his nose rubs against your clit. Your back arches off the bed and your thighs try to close around his head.

Surprisingly, he lets you, his hands hold the outside of your thighs, resting there. His face pushing down to continue to get at you like this but he lets you smother him with your thighs. He moves his thumbs to keep your folds parted, needing more access. The obscene clicking noises of his tongue in your slick pussy would make the devil blush.

The moans and whimpers you’re letting out are no better, fingers scrabbling to find purchase somewhere. Settling for the sheets in the end, not wanting to move Bi-Han, not when he’s hitting all the right places, you’re getting close embarrassingly quick.

Something he’s completely aware of, not stopping for a moment, he’s feasting on you like he might never again and after this week he’d say that was a genuine concern for a moment. As much as he loves having your thighs either side his head, he really needs better access. His hands force your legs apart again, pinning them apart and up.

The sound you let out is wrecked and he can’t help but groan alongside it, enjoying your reactions immensely. Some things never change and one of those things seems to be just how fucking reactive you are to him. Always so sensitive, so easy to rile up, so messy. If he weren’t slurping at your cunt he’d definitely say something about it to you.

Two of his fingers prod at your entrance, slipping inside you carefully, stretching you open. The way your pussy greedily sucks his fingers in has him moaning brokenly into you, muffled. If he were a weaker man, this might kill him. He can feel the way you’re pulsing around his fingers, your hips frantically trying to rut down against him, getting close.

Nails claw at the sheets, you’re not sure if you want to rut down into him and chase your high or pull away. Feeling completely overwhelmed by everything he’s doing right now. His lips suck at your clit, his fingers large inside you, curling just right. Your stomach flips and your cunt clenches down on him.

It startles you, how quickly you cum, you hadn’t even realised it until it was too late, not able to give a warning. The only sign given is the harsh grip your pussy has on his fingers and your moan as your thighs shake. Cum leaking from you and coating Bi-Han’s fingers, he doesn’t let up. Fucking you through your high, flicking at your clit just to watch you twitch.

It’s too much, you whine and try to wiggle away from him, that’s when he relents. Slipping his fingers from you and into his mouth, sucking them clean before wiping them on your inner thigh. He plants sloppy kisses up your body, stopping and hovering at your cheek, your head turned to the side.

You feel lazy when you pull your head back to face him, eyes wet and unfocused, completely docile for him after only one orgasm. He huffs an amused breath against your lips, “You good, sweetie? Or–”

“–Mhm, I’m good, I can keep going… I can take it.”

“I know you can,” he presses a light kiss to your temple, “Take this off,” he pulls at your shirt and robe.

He leaves you on the bed. Absently, you can hear him rustling just to the side of you and you’d stare at him shamelessly if undressing completely didn’t require your full attention right now. You shirk your robe off your shoulders and toss it somewhere, your shirt promptly follows, though embarrassingly, it’s harder to get off.

You flop back onto your spot on the bed, the thought to move so you’re on the bed the right way crosses in the back of your mind but you don’t really see the point. The bed dips with Bi-Han’s weight and your hands instinctually reach out for him.

He lets you pull him down into you, your legs wrapping around his waist to tug all of him close, he breathes against your neck when you’ve successfully got him pressed up against you completely.

“You just want to cuddle?” He’s being genuine, nosing at the high point of your cheek.

You make a noise of disagreement, “Just want you close.”

His words are crude, “So, I can stick my dick inside you?”

You whine at him, “Is there not a nicer way to say that?”

“I’ve found,” he presses his hips into you so his cock spreads your folds, grinding into you, getting his dick wet, “It’s quicker to be straightforward.”

Your mouth drops open when he grazes your sensitive clit, “You –hah– You sure you don’t just like embarrassing me?”

Humming, he muses, “I won’t lie, that’s a big bonus.”

“Can –ngh– you just–” You’re cut off by a sharp gasp, lungs shuddering at the glide of his heavy cock against your cunt.

“Mmm?” He’s teasing, “I’m sure I could but you need to use your words.”

Your head tips slightly, feeling like a moan is going to leave you at any second, “Bi-Han, fffuck me, please.”

“Yeah, yeah I can do that,” his tone is full of humour.

Parting from you, he puts enough space between you to guide his cock to your entrance. Careful as he begins pushing into you, the stretch makes you hiss through your teeth. He’s somehow bigger than you remember, he’s going to split you in half.

“Breathe,” his voice reminds, “You’ve taken it before.”

You let go of the breath you didn’t realise you were holding, focusing on relaxing for him, “I don’t –hah– I forgot howw big–” He slides into you more while you’re talking and your sentence is cut off with a moan.

“Only a week and you’re already forgetting how well you take me?” He’s starting to sound strained, “Feel a little offended.”

“Just,” the stretch is less painful and more delicious, he’s filling you so well and you need, “More, Bi-Han.”

He’s taking it slow, always so careful, “Changed your tune pretty quick there.”

“Don’t –mmph– don’t tease,” you whinge.

He groans as he sinks deeper, “But you look so –hah– cute when I do.”

You feel full, the pressure increasing, tip of his cock grazing all the right spots. You feel like you could melt into the mattress, your legs are tangled at the bottom of his back and you use them to tug him down to you. He falters and almost falls onto you, hand coming out to balance his weight above you.

“You want it that –mph– fuckin bad?” His words are bitten back, “Take it then,” he grunts before slamming the rest of his dick inside you all at once.

Oh, how your eyes roll, choked noise clawing up your throat at the sudden feeling of having every inch of him weighing heavy inside you. Reaching up, your nails claw desperately at his back.

“Oh my– oh– ah– I can’t– ffffuck,” you’re not making sense, not really, overwhelmed by how good it feels, how deep he sits.

He chuckles darkly at your state, staying still for a moment, giving you a second to just feel all of him. And then, when he thinks you’re adjusting and coming to some sense of normalcy, he draws back and fucks his cock back inside you. The shift has more stupid series of words slipping from you, which he finds as amusing and endearing as he did the first time he managed to reduce you to this state.

He leans down into you again, acquiescing when your hands keep pulling and tugging at him, wanting to feel his skin on yours. He’s so large and so safe and feels so–

His hips are slow, slow for him anyways, thrusts even and measured but not relentlessly fucking you into the mattress. There is a weight behind them though, the kind that has pressure sitting heavy in your lungs. Every time he bottoms out, you can’t help the pitiful sounds you make, you tuck your head into his neck, hoping to hide from the noises you’re making but they don’t go anywhere.

If anything, this is worse, Bi-Han’s lips are right at your ear, brushing the shell of it, “You hear that?” He asks, pausing so you can hear the lewd, sloppy noises your pussy makes as he fucks into you, “The wet fucking sounds of you taking me so well.”

You’re so embarrassed, “Bi-Han–”

A particularly harsh thrust cuts off what would’ve been a complaint and turns it into a weak moan, the pace he set is maddening, “I’m being gentle with you, sweetie, what you wanted.”

Is it what you wanted? Did you ask for gentle, you think distantly you remember a conversation about him being gentle with you but you’re pretty sure you had said you didn’t want that in fear of this very situation. He’s being ‘gentle’ but he’s getting you so close to the edge and just – not pushing you off it, holding you there. It’s torture, it’s punishment, he’s mad at you, you could swear by it.

You ask as much, “Ah– are you mad at mme?”

“How could I be mad when you feel this good?” He grinds down into you, as if to emphasise his point.

You’re a dream to him, fucked and whimpering, tight as sin, and stumbling over yourself to say something only to end up calling his name and worthless pleas. He’ll give you what you want, when he’s ready. For now, he’s going to tease you and hold you right on the edge of finishing before taking it away from you. Maybe because he’s mean, maybe because he likes the glassy look in your eyes that makes it look like you might cry.

His hips speed up slightly and it’s just what you need, getting so so close to cumming. You’re clinging to him for dear life but just when you think you might get to cum, he pins you to the bed with his hips, stilling inside you. He can feel the way you throb around him, so close for him before he ripped it away from you.

You try grinding up into him, “Why– Why– Why stop?”

He looks you in the eyes, hand soft on your cheek, tilting you to look at him properly, your eyes are so out of focus, “Wanted to see your reaction.”

“Please.”

He knows what you want but he asks anyway, “Please, what?”

“Please, fuck me,” you were so close, so close.

“I am,” he reminds, hips pulling back to fuck into you again.

You bite back a moan as best as you can, “Ah– Then– then don’t stoppp –mmph–”

“Maybe,” he makes no promises, pressing a kiss to your lips.

The pace drags, every inch of him, pulled from you slowly, before he’s shoving himself right back inside your wet heat. It takes an amazing amount of control on Bi-Han’s behalf, to fuck you like this, torturing you. Building up your orgasm slowly, crafting it carefully.

Mostly, he’s just lost, lost in your pussy, maybe he’s pussy drunk, but then if he were, would he be holding onto this much control still? In love with how you grip him, with how you twitch and spasm and whine and claw at him but not enough to fuck you into the mattress with reckless abandon.

He’s so cruel, just so mean, oh but when he gets you this close to cumming again he doesn’t feel mean, he feels good and nice and you just need him to not stop, “Bi-Han, please, I–” “–Already?” He hums but his hips stop again, pinning you again, taking away your high again.

“No no no nonono,” you squirm slightly, “You said you wouldn’t stop again,” you’re looking at him through your lashes, they’re wet, have you been crying?

He shakes his head, denying it, “I said maybe.”

“Bi-Han, this time, please, you need to let me cum,” you’re looking at him so seriously.

He nods his head this time, as if understanding suddenly, “Oh, I need to, well why didn’t you say so?”

You pout at him, “I will do anything, please.”

He asks, “Anything?” You nod vehemently at him and he leans closer to you, “All you need to do is take it.”

You want to tell him how mean he is, how unkind he’s being but you don’t want to motivate him to be any meaner to you, “I might die.”

“Hmm, interesting, let’s see,” and then he’s drawing back and setting that same maddening rhythm again, the one that makes your skin itch and your pussy ache.

He does this to you, a handful of times more, getting you close to the edge, dragging you there slowly, meticulously, only to stop and let you twitch and squirm and cry under him. Every time you beg him to just let you cum, let you finish, but he’s taking sick pleasure in how fucked out and pathetic you’re getting.

All gooey eyed and messy for him, fuck so messy, he tells you as much, “Making such a wet mess, sweet girl, listen to that,” he pauses his word and fucks into you quickly just so you can hear how your cunt squelches around him and you’re going to pass out.

You’re only really capable of broken syllables of his name and weak whimpers, you’re getting close again but you’re so sure he’s going to stop, you’re ready for him to stop. He doesn’t, he picks up speed, fucking you quicker, harder, the obscene noises of him fucking you almost drowning out your moans.

He groans at how impossibly tight you get, he’s not going to stop, not this time, not when he’s so fucking close too. Getting sick of this game, he’s got the patience to play with you for long enough that you’ll go crazy but after that all bets are off.

Your back arches up into him and your nails scratch at his biceps and down his back, your head tucking back into his neck. You’re clenching down on him so tight, pressure in your stomach tightening, and a particularly sharp thrust where his pelvis hits your clit just right has you cumming apart under him, around him.

You’re trying to milk his cock and it’s setting his skin on fire; he bites into your neck as he cums at the same time as you. Not able to hold back his noises but able to at least muffle them into your skin. You’re shuddering under him, panting harshly, pussy jumping around his dick.

He’s cum so much it leaks out around the base of him and down from where he’s still seated deep inside you. He detaches from your neck and lathes over the bite mark he left behind with his tongue, feeling bad for how prominent it’s going to be. Though, not feeling all that bad about how long it will linger for.

“Thank you, thank you,” you’re murmuring it over and over into his skin and he doesn’t know if you realise it or not. He presses kisses to your lips, stopping you from talking.

You could almost swear that you’re not in your body, you’re floating somewhere above it, feeling like you came so hard you might’ve blacked out for a couple seconds. Suddenly, you’re spinning, Bi-Han has flipped you both so he’s on his back and you’re on top of him.

Neither of you are willing to move for the moment, so you just lay pressed up again him, relishing in the skin-to-skin contact. Always enjoying when he’s this close to you, you’re not even sure you’re capable of a coherent thought right now that doesn’t start and end with Bi-Han.

Eventually, you regain enough awareness to say, “I need a shower.”

“Give me ten more minutes and we can shower,” his hand runs down your back.

“Mmkay,” your lips ghost his neck and he shudders.

For those ten minutes he has asked for, he kisses you, deeply, sweetly, reverently. He holds you tenderly and kisses you like he worships the ground you walk on, like you’re incapable of doing anything wrong ever. And you kiss him back in kind, feeling like you don’t mind how scary it is to watch yourself fall in love with someone.

When he does get up, he’s careful with you, carrying you to the shower and washing your body, his fingers digging into some muscles as he goes, massaging you. Of course, he’s a little too focused on how his cum leaks from you when you’re standing upright, hesitant to wash it away but knowing you’d chew him out if he didn’t.

While standing in front of the bed, you feel heavy, achy, he’s washed and dried you, even helping you redress in clean pyjamas. He always takes such good care of you after he fucks you within an inch of your life.

Your eyes look at the wet stain left on the bed and you feel icky, “That’s so embarrassing…”

Bi-Han tracks your eyeline, also clean and redressed beside you, “Really? I’m quite proud.”

You hide your head in your hands, “You say… the worst things.”

Ignoring your words, he asks, “Want me to change the sheets?”

Peaking at him through your fingers, you smile at him, “Okay, sometimes you say really great things.”

He huffs, amused, but changes the sheets for you and when it’s fresh and clean, he pulls you into the bed and holds you close. You feel so warm and fuzzy and light and you want to stay with him forever, you want to stay just like this forever.

PLAGIARISM NOT CONDONED | REPOSTS NOT AUTHORISED

[shitsndgiggs]

Can I request something with Arda?

I don't know where I saw this, probably in a book or something but maybe a friends to lovers where they are watching a movie together and suddenly an heated make our scene comes up and the reader says something like "Oh to be kissed like that" with envy and Arda blurts our "I can do that" and they kiss in the end? You can add anything you'd like

Thank you! I love your writing <3

I CAN DO THAT - ARDA GÜLER

Arda showing you that he can kiss you just like in the movie

Arda Güler x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The room was dimly lit, with the soft glow of the TV screen casting shadows on the walls. Arda and I were sprawled out on the couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn as we watched a movie.

It was a quiet evening, just the two of us hanging out like we often did. We’d been friends for years, so these kinds of nights were nothing new—just us, some snacks, and whatever movie we decided to watch.

Tonight’s choice was a romantic drama, not really my usual pick, but Arda had convinced me that it was worth a watch. We were both relaxed, comfortably settled into the cushions, the air between us warm and familiar.

The movie had just reached its peak, the tension between the main characters building up until it finally exploded into a passionate, heated makeout scene.

I couldn’t help but watch with a bit of envy, a wistful sigh escaping my lips.

“Oh, to be kissed like that,” I murmured, more to myself than anyone else.

It was meant to be a harmless comment, just an idle thought out loud. But the moment the words left my mouth, I noticed Arda shift beside me.

I turned my head slightly, expecting him to laugh it off or make a joke like he usually did. But instead, he was looking at me with an intensity that I hadn’t seen before.

“I can do that,” Arda blurted out, his voice low and a little uncertain, like he was surprised by his own words.

I blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?” I asked, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest.

“I can do that,” he repeated, this time with more confidence, his eyes never leaving mine. “Kiss you like that.”

The air between us shifted, the playful, easygoing vibe suddenly replaced with something heavier, more charged.

I felt my cheeks heat up, my mind racing to process what he’d just said. We were friends—just friends—but there was something in his expression that made my heart skip a beat.

“Arda…” I started, but I didn’t know how to finish. What could I even say to that?

His gaze softened, but he didn’t back down. “I’m serious,” he said quietly, moving just a little closer, his knee brushing against mine. “I’ve… thought about it before, you know? Kissing you.”

My breath hitched, and I could barely find my voice. “You have?”

He nodded, his eyes flicking down to my lips and then back up to my eyes. “Yeah. A lot.”

We were so close now, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.

The movie continued to play in the background, but it might as well have been silent for all I cared. All that mattered in that moment was him.

I didn’t know who moved first, whether it was me or him, but suddenly, there was no space left between us. His hand cupped my cheek, his touch gentle but sure, and then his lips were on mine.

The kiss started slow, almost hesitant, as if we were both testing the waters, unsure of what this meant for our friendship.

But then something shifted. The kiss deepened, the initial uncertainty giving way to something more intense, more real.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything we’d never said, all the feelings we’d kept buried, finally coming to the surface.

My hand found its way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as I pulled him closer, wanting more, needing more.

Arda responded in kind, his other hand sliding to my waist, pulling me against him until there was no space left between us.

The kiss seemed to go on forever, both of us lost in the moment, in each other. It was everything I’d ever dreamed of, and more—passionate, tender, and filled with a kind of intensity that made my head spin.

When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing hard, our foreheads resting against each other as we tried to catch our breath. My heart was still racing, and I could feel his doing the same.

“Wow,” I whispered, unable to keep the smile off my face.

Arda chuckled softly, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheek. “Yeah, wow.”

We sat there for a moment, just holding each other, the movie long forgotten. I didn’t know what this meant for us—whether we were still just friends, or if this was the start of something more.

But as I looked into his eyes, I knew one thing for sure.

I wanted more of this. More of him.

“So,” I said, still a little breathless, “can we do that again?”

Arda smiled, a look of pure affection in his eyes. “I’d like that.”

And with that, he leaned in, capturing my lips in another kiss that made my heart soar.

[actual-changeling]

when gabriel/jim (jabriel?? gim?????) talks about his "one particular person", aziraphale's smile is such a blink and you will miss it moment but so incredibly precious and we don't pay enough attention to it.

so, welcome to another round of alex's unhinged meta corner where i over-analyse micro expressions while losing some more braincells.

firstly, here's a clip of that scene just so we are all on the same page since i don't know how much time everyone else spends watching that show. don't ask me it's probably at least 6 hours a day at this point

what i want to focus on is aziraphale's reaction to jabriel's words right after "person". did i slow the clip down and then go through it frame by frame to get the following screencaps? yes. yes i did.

there are two parts to this, the spaced-out smile and then his shock/fear. also before we start can i just say how fucking insane whoever made the trailer was for putting the 1941 dinner scene RIGHT THERE??? with THAT expression??????? yeah. no. i need therapy for that alone.

anyway.

while he is talking, aziraphale is looking at jabriel the entire time, but honestly, i don't think he is actually seeing him, he's neck-deep in his memories of crowley. he as that sparkle in his eyes he tends to get around crowley/looking at crowley and that smile appears rather slowly (or as slow as something can be while lasting less than a second).

personally, i'd call that expression "completely and utterly in love" or besotted if you wanna keep it simple. a content little smile meant for no one except himself, the kinda look he probably wears in private while calling crowley to ask him to come hang out. aziraphale loves him and in this short moment, he knows it - and so do we.

when jabriel (preferable over gim, in my opinion) trails off, aziraphale remembers that hey, wait a minute. that's my boss. that's the archangel fucking gabriel. he can't know about me and crowley.

at this point, neither we nor he know what exactly is up with jabriel, so there is a very real danger that everything aziraphale says or shows will be reported back to heaven. the shock sets in, the smile disappear and aziraphale falls from cloud 9 (pun intended) and lands face first back on earth.

while aziraphale does not have crowley's memory of what exactly went down in heaven when they tried to burn him to a crisp, he has always been incredibly anxious around gabriel and the other archangel. he is fidgeting, unable to stand still or even keep his gaze from flicking around. the only moment he calms is, you guessed it, when he is zoned out and thinking of crowley.

the very real fear that settles on his face is not just about himself, it is mostly about crowley. if heaven knows, hell will, too. everyone knows about the back channels, most just try and keep up plausible deniability. the fact that it is michael who seems to be directly in contact with hell for the most part and not gabriel is worthy of its own post at some point.

another thing worth mentioning is that aziraphale is so afraid, in fact, that he physically backs away from jabriel and gets as much distance between them as possible. jabriel looks like a lost toddler, very non-threatening, but the trauma runs so deep that it does not matter how much of a danger he really is right now. he has been a constant threat for over six thousand years, you cannot deconstruct your view of a person, especially your boss, that quickly. not even if they turn up with total amnesia on your doorstep. naked.

this was less unhinged than some of my other posts but i think this is a moment that gets overlooked a lot. at least i haven't seen anyone talking about it yet since we are all understandably focused on the ending of episode 6.

[ideas-live-forever]

hi!! i love your ken imagines and was wondering if you might be interested in writing something for maybeee a pining ken and an oblivious reader? 👉👈🥺 reader has totally convinced themselves that ken is just being super nice bc they've been showing him the ropes for living in the real world but he's actually just super smitten with them

Pining Ken With Oblivious Reader

hi!! thank you so much for requesting! sorry about the wait, i got a little stuck in the middle of writing this. i hope this is what you meant! if not, feel free to send another ask :)

i’m working on my other request right now, so i should be able to get it out soon. in the mean time, i’m open to other ken requests as well!

Ever since you met, you’ve been all Ken can think about

You’ve always been so kind to him, helping him figure out the real world and everything

And he is nothing if not head over heels in love with you 

He can’t help but admire you from afar

And the care and caution he uses when interacting with you is far beyond what he uses with other people

In fact, he gets teased by your guys’ friends all the time about it

As much as he wants to tell you, he just can’t find the courage to do it straight out

You two are just friends

What if it’s too much too fast? Or you don’t love him back? Or you never even liked him in the first place and were just putting up with him because you’re just that good of a person?

You love him too, obviously 

But you don’t seem to pick up on any of the hints he drops, no matter how blatant they are

It started about a month ago, when Ken decided to start being more obvious with his affection for you

His hints were pretty tame at first: an extra compliment here, a few more texts here

“You’re looking extra nice today, did you do something new with your hair?”

‘Goodnight! Have the sweetest of dreams :)’

You were flattered, sure, but in your head he was just being nice in return

He kept that pace up for a while until he couldn’t deal with it anymore

This was going agonizingly slow

So, recently, he’s been more obvious about it

He’ll bring you gifts all the time, hoping they’re meaningful enough to get his point across

It gets to the lost where you have to be more assertive with how many presents he gives you a week

“Ken, you really need to stop buying me so many things.” You scold him, though your tone is undermined by the warmth of your gaze as you look at what must be the 3rd gift box you’ve gotten in 5 days. 

“Why?” He asks, a dejected kind of look falling over his face. “Do you not like them?”

His expression and cautious words catch your attention and you let out a little smile. He’s really just the sweetest guy. ‘If only he liked me..’

“No, of course I do!” You reply, setting the present down and placing one of your (shaky) hands on his. “I’m just worried that you’re spending too much money on me.”

Miraculously, you don’t notice the way the blush rises to his cheeks or his eyes widen at your touch. Ken takes a deep breath to steady himself before stumbling through his next words.

“That’s like, impossible. You’re worth more than all my money.” He says, cringing as soon as it leaves his mouth.

A part of you, a small and repressed part of you, swoons at his statement. However, the reason i’m your mind decides that this is just another example of Ken being Ken.

You don’t see the little frown that falls back over his face when you don’t seem to get the hint.

Ken, driven by newfound motivation, starts jumping at any opportunity to hint how smitten he is with you

He’ll remember the smallest things you say and bring them up later

“The aquarium?” You inquire, looking at the building you two had just arrived at. 

Ken smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He thinks for a moment, debating whether or not to tell the truth. He decides to be totally blunt.

“Yeah. I, uh-“ He clears his throat. “You told me about that time when you were like 6 when your birthday at the aquarium got cancelled and you never really got to go back. So I just figured it could be fun or something-“

“You remembered that?” You ask again, in slight disbelief.

Ken’s a really sentimental person, you know that. But he remembers that dumb story? You must’ve told him that months ago. A blush creeps onto your cheeks.

“Of course.” He shrugs.

Obviously, you end up having a great time at the aquarium (although he got scared in the shark tunnel and you had to hold his hand)

Your one-on-one hangouts evolve from casual outings to fancy restaurants quickly

The line between hanging out and going on a date is so blurred that neither of you are quite sure which it is

Not that you’re going to bring it up

One day you go out for a walk after dinner and end up sitting on a park bench, just talking

Ken looks over at you and noticed how perfect you look in the moonlight

He’s tempted to tell you how he feels right then and there

But of course it doesn’t work out like that

“Thanks for hanging out today,” You say, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

Ken smiles in acknowledgment before clearing his throat a bit. He shifts his gaze from you, to the stars, back to you again. You can practically see his brain racing.

“No problem. It’s nice to feel so wanted.” He says softly. “I really appreciate this, by the way. That you’re willing to put so much time and care into, uh, this.”

You take a deep breath. ‘He’s just being nice. Don’t look for implications that aren’t there.’ You think to yourself. But you have to respond somehow. He’s looking at you like you handed him the world. It’s really cute.

“Of course, Ken. You know I love you,” You realize what you said quickly, eyes widening. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Ken’s never felt so disappointed in his life

He really thought that was it

He’s pretty stiff for the rest of the evening

Like everything he says is scripted

It’s really just so that he can keep it together until he gets home to think out what to do next

As soon as he drops you off, his mind starts racing

What was that?

Was he friendzoned? Was that last part a coverup? 

Regardless, he cares about you too much to potentially hurt you in any way

Even if that means backing off a little bit

So he distances himself abbot, not knowing what else to do

You realize something is off pretty quickly and walk over to his usual spot on the beach

Sure enough, he’s sitting on the sand alone, his head cradled in his hands

You approach him slowly, sitting next to him on the ground

Ken glances up as your shadow casts over him. You sit next to him, not saying anything at first. He looks… confused. There’s a glint of relief at your presence, but also a slightly guarded look that Ken never usually carries.

“Hey,” You say softly, meeting his gaze. “You okay?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes betraying that he’s weighing whatever options he has in this situation in his head. Eventually, he sighs, shifting his gaze to his hands.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He says vaguely, fidgeting with his fingers. “Just trying to think I guess.”

“About?” You don’t want to press, but Ken’s almost never closed off like this. 

“You?” He says, blushing intensely. 

The two of you just sit there for a second, trying to process what effect that little comment had on the future of this conversation

He eventually works up the courage to tell you everything. From the very beginning.

He tells you what a great friend you are, and how he never wants to mess up what you already have

He starts rambling in his nervousness, trapped beneath your intense gaze

“I know you love me as a friend, and I obviously also love you as a friend. But I think I might also love you a little bit more than that, if I’m making any sense. But I totally get it if you don’t feel like that as well. I might be moving too fast. I’m sorry-“

You have to kiss him to shut him up (i know it’s cliche i’m sorry 😭)

He just stares at you after you part, his eyes wide as saucers, until a small grin sneaks onto his face

“So, is that like, an, uh-“

“An ‘I love you too’? Yes.”

You’ve never seen him smile to big

You two spend the rest of the day sitting on the beach and talking

About how you covered up your confession that day at the park

About how he thought he had to avoid you 

Hesitantly, he reaches for your hand

When you grab it back he smiles a little, turning away to hide the blush in his cheeks

[dayasusays]

warnings ! — SMUT partly, fem!reader, ANGST, ghosting, compliments

summary ? — you always come back.

!! ♫ NOW PLAYING “chamber of reflection”

by mac demarco

౿ . . ` ౨ৎ ENJOY 🩵

he didn't know who woke him up with the doorbell at three in the morning; he didn't know why he got up to open the door in the first place, and of course he didn't know that you were standing outside his door.

dick opens the door, wants to start cursing and cursing whoever woke him up at this hour, but god, he sees you in front of him. sees you after several long months and can't control the softening look in your eyes as you look up at him. you look with that gentle but lost look; your eyes don't linger on his face for too long, as if you're ashamed.

of course you should be ashamed; you come, spend the night with him, and leave again. grayson doesn't have your phone number, your address, your place of work; he has nothing but your visits to his apartment every few months and that boundless happiness every time you come back.

your name comes off his lips almost in a whisper as he looks into your face. you're so damn beautiful even though you're soaked to the skin; your awkward smile makes all his worries and fears melt away, but in his mind he thinks of closing the door in your face; of course, just for one second because he knows he can't. even if dick wanted to, he never could, especially when you look at him like that.

you're back again and he hates the realization of how happy he is to see you on his doorstep.

“hey,” grayson began softly, stepping away from the door and letting you into his apartment.

“hi,” you mumble back, taking a step forward toward him and closing the door behind you, “long time no see?” you smile softly and dick loses himself in that smile again.

he wants to hate you more than he loves you; he really does, but you are so beautiful now. with wet hair and wet clothes, you were the most beautiful woman in the world. it was like a game that grayson could never win; he would forever lose, and you would forever run away after one night together and come back after two months of silence.

and he promised himself that this time would be the last time, the next time he'd kick you off his doorstep.

“and why did you come back?” dick sounds too harsh for his own good; he crosses his arms over his chest and tries to keep his distance, taking a step back as you approach.

“i just…” you pause, shifting from foot to foot and averting your gaze, “just checking on you. thought i might see you…” it hurts too much.

of course grayson knows it's not a concern; of course he knows that you're just here to leave in the morning and break his heart again; of course he knows you're not worth it; of course he…

but still, he finds himself beside you now, showering your neck with short kisses and whispering something about how much he's missed you, and it's so damn flattering that you moan and cling to him harder and harder.

the smell of your perfume feels like a punch in the chest as dick pulls you against him harder and harder, like it's been two years instead of two months. and you don't blame him, of course.

you don't know why you do that to someone like grayson. someone so wonderful and reverent and loving so sweetly that everything turns upside down inside at the sight of his tender gaze. you want to say it's an almost inexplicable need to leave again for a long time, but you realize you never had a real reason. you just didn't want to hurt him so badly.

it’s almost embarrassing; you come back when it's unbearable, hoping it will get easier, but it never does in the morning. even if you have a dick on the bed next to you, sleeping peacefully and having his hundredth dream of the night. it's almost comparable to the moment when you are drowning and asking for help; desperately continuing to flail your arms and legs, bouncing in the water and trying to scream, realizing that you can't swim. as your lungs fill with water and you prepare to die, you vaguely see dick grayson, who can't swim either, but is trying to swim up to you and save you. he is also flailing his legs and arms, trying not only to stay afloat, but also to swim up to you, hoping that he can save you too.

his palms touch yours, intertwined as grayson looks into your eyes and you think salvation is near when your head submerges again.

the truth is, you can't swim, and you'll drown in this together.

but right now, dick is kissing you as if it's your last hours before the end of the world, and nothing else matters: just his palms on your waist, his dry lips on your lips, and the sweet-bitter kisses you share.

“it’s been two months,” he murmurs, pulling you even closer, “and yet you're back,” grayson leans closer and nuzzles his nose into your neck, leaving a few weightless kisses and gentle bites, “missed you so much.”

“dick,” his name sounds so bitter on your lips, “i missed you so much,” you repeat after him, letting out another muffled moan.

and you don't know when you ended up in bed; when he started pushing into you slowly, running his fingers through your hair and stroking your cheek with a calloused palm; when you started moaning his name, grabbing his neck.

“you're so beautiful,” dick continues to whisper, “too beautiful for me to understand,” he makes another thrust hitting exactly the most sensitive spot inside of you and you try not to moan too loudly.

grayson is so incredibly gentle with you that you seem ready to cum the second he kisses every inch of your body; he compliments you again, and my god, you always feel so beautiful every time you have sex.

dick lifts your hips and bumps his nose against your collarbone as his thrusts become more jerky and faster; his fingers grip your waist tighter, and he continues to murmur.

“it feels so good inside you,” grayson bites into your skin gently, as if he's afraid of hurting you, “my god…” he feels like he's almost melting from how warm and supple you are inside. his rough fingertips gently rub your clit, sometimes pushing and speeding up, but his movements remain so reverent.

one of his thrusts brings you to orgasm at the same time, as grayson presses against you with extra force; he continues to enter you, showering your breasts with kisses and helping you through this orgasm.

and dick realizes that in the morning he'll wake up alone in his bed again. your scent will be on the empty, cold sheets, and your soft voice will be a symphony in his ears, but right now he's thanking all the gods he knows that you came again.

i was inspired by a bot from character.ai by BUNNY_JUNI !!

comment, reblog & like? ;)

🩵 abt me | m.list

[queer-whatchamacallit]

(SPOILERS) Most of my initial thoughts about season 3 were extremely positive (because I love this show, by god, I love this show), but as I look at it more, I can see what it’s missing, and I can see why people are upset by it

I’m going to look at where The Bear focuses on the past (flashbacks, where characters revert and become their younger, less healthy selves, or where characters’ actions are thoroughly influenced by past trauma), the present (the state things are in, stagnation) and the future (positive change, potential)

Season 1 is primarily focused on the present. The staff slowly learns and changes for the better, but overall they still have 300k hanging over their heads, and there’s only so much that can change under those conditions. There’s pieces here and there that show how Carmy is influenced by his past, both his fucked up family and his time in fucked up kitchens, but he tries his hardest to bottle that up, so we don’t always see a lot. Season 1 is focused on the state of things in the restaurant, seemingly how it is and always will be to some extent. That’s until they find the tomato cans and hope for the future bursts in.

Season 2 focuses on that future. It focuses on change and rebuilding and how everyone is improving themselves. There’s no real focus on how things are because they’re completely changing what that is. There are pieces from the past here too. Claire is some bridge between past and future, tied to his family and who he’s been as well as the type of person he could be (one who lets himself have amusement and enjoyment). Everything and everyone changes until the very end, where Carmy’s stagnation, fear of that positive future, and romanticization of his past self bite him in the ass.

While season 1 is the present and season 2 is the future, there are traces of the other times these seasons.

Season 3 is almost entirely focused on the past. There are entire episodes focused on Carmy’s life at highend restaurants, Tina finding The Beef, and the Ever funeral ties together all these people that changed Carmy. These are beautiful, phenomenal moments, but there isn’t enough time given to the new order of things at the restaurant. There isn’t enough connective tissue. We get one episode that’s entirely focused on how the restaurant is running, but they tried to pack so much in through montages of failures that I don’t feel the stakes of any of them.

I wanted so so much more from Marcus’ story. Carmy’s grief was shown subtly through little moments of running the restaurant, but because they barely showed the restaurant, they barely showed Marcus. I really enjoy the moments we did get (conversations with Carm and with Syd), but it got completely lost when I feel like that should have been a centerpiece. The Bear is a show built on grief (it feels like most characters we meet have suffered a loss somewhat recently), but when another loss is suffered by a main character, it’s set aside for pretty flashbacks.

Carmy was so thoroughly gripped by his past this season that he fully tries to recreate the highend kitchens he used to work for. He is distant and dangerously fast-paced, but he is an excellent chef that creates meals with the best possible option for it.

He’s clearly not sleeping. Through the entire season, he feels as single-minded and self-destructive as he gets during his meltdown points (1x08 and 2x10).

I feel like someone should have stopped him. It feels out character that no one at least tried to. When Carmy’s working on the next day’s menu and shooting down everything Syd suggests, I was waiting for her to bring up “vibrant collaboration dude.” When Carmy was spraying out the alley, I was expecting Cicero to say something like, “Kid, I feel you may not have known this, but you are still on a fuckin budget. Your Orwellian butter can’t possibly be worth what we’re paying for it.” I was waiting the whole season for Sugar to just say, “Go home and get some sleep, Bear.”

If that review was as bad as Carmy’s, “motherfucker” made it out to be and if Cicero shuts down the restaurant, it will have felt preventable.

Sugar having the baby is the only real progression toward the future, and she doesn’t even get a name.

Everything shown of the past is phenomenal and gorgeous and heartbreaking, but there is so little progress made on the path we expected to and were hoping to be going down. I think you can make a season out of the present or the future, but the past doesn’t work quite as well. It has a lot of good, but it’s missing a lot of good too.

[bigbangclappin]

Baby Daddy Gangster 2

Summary: Ding Dong! Your baby daddy is back and wants in your life and your daughter’s. And with that smile you might as well shove the door wide open.

Paring: Nakamoto YutaXReader(1st Person POV!)

Warnings: Cursing! Baby Daddy themes, mentions of smut, toxic relationships, Mafia/Yakuza themes (It’s not glamorous in real life folks!) 

Word Count: 2,382

A/N: GUYS IT'S FINALLY HERE! PART TWO! I hope it's enjoyable! I loved writing it! Let me know if we want a part three!

Tag List: @iveivory @champagne-n-yachts @dilfjohhny @junglewoos

Part one

Unknown number: Is Yuki wearing a 3T or a 4T?

You: Who is this?

Unknown number: Really baby?

I shook my head in exasperation, throwing my phone into my back pocket.  The man was relentless to say the least, he did earn that title fair and square. 

What could I have possibly been thinking back then? 

Clearly sexual gratification was worth more to me than my hypothetical child’s future, because now here I am. Stuck with a gangster for a baby daddy who didn’t understand the phrase get lost. 

I shrugged my shoulders, well there was nothing I could do to change who Yuki’s dad is now. I just had to live with the consequences of my actions. 

Which wasn't all that bad considering my daughter was healthy and happy, I grinned as she played with her dolls on the floor. She did resemble her father, with her pretty smile and expressive eyes, she received all the best qualities of Yuta it seemed.

“Mommy?” Her sweet little voice asked from where she sat on the floor.

“Hmm?”

“Guess what?”

I giggled because she loved to play guessing games ever since she could speak in almost full sentences. I never had the heart to discourage her playful chatter despite her daycare teacher’s warning about how it was becoming disruptive in class. 

“What?” I replied casually, taking a sip from my drink.

“I met Daddy today.”

My entire mouthful of beverage was spewed across the room and on to my daughter who whines. 

“Mommy ew!” She cried, wiping her little arms in disgust.

“Oh Yuki I’m so sorry sugar,” I snagged some paper towels from the kitchen and began cleaning her off. 

“But what did you mean by you met Daddy?” I asked keeping my tone as even as possible. “You don’t have a Daddy, remember?”

She shook her head defiantly, her dark hair flying every which way, “I do have a Daddy mommy! And he’s pretty! And look he gived me a present!!”

My heart was racing as she flew to her small panda backpack. She rummaged through it for a moment before wobbling her way back to me with something in her tiny hand. 

When the gold glinted in the light I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, he really went behind my back. I shouldn’t have been surprised, I shouldn’t have felt hurt either. Yuta was resourceful and clearly he used those resources to his advantage to find Yuki’s school.

The tiger bracelet in my daughter’s hand mocked me; after everything I had done to keep that God damned insignia out of her life he literally just dropped it in her hand like nothing. 

Once a fucking bastard always a bastard. 

It took all I had in me to not snatch the piece of gaudy jewelry out of Yuki’s hand and melt it in my fireplace. I took a very, long and deep breath in. 

“Yuki, how did you get this?” 

“I told you Mama,” She exasperated, “Daddy gived it to me”

“It’s gave love,” I corrected, “Where did he give it to you?”

 She put her finger to her lips in thought, “Mr. Lee tooked us outside to play and dis really big car was dere. Den a big scary man got out, he was not nice Mommy, but den Daddy got out and yelled my name–”

“Yuki, that's dangerous, we've talked about not speaking to strangers!” I scolded her, literally stunned. My daughter was so trusting she basically ran into her father’s arms without question. 

She recoiled at my tone and began playing with the little trinket on the bracelet out of nervousness, “But Daddy isn’t a stranger…”

I didn’t mean to scoff at my child but she had never met her father once, I know Yuki was sweet and that she was young but I couldn’t understand why she went against what I taught her for a man who is a complete stranger to her. 

“Yuki,” I sighed, “You don’t have a daddy Sugar.”

Her cheeks turned red with a huff, “I do too!”

I put a hand to my forehead ready to end the man I had loved for most of my life. This is exactly why I wanted to keep him out of her life. 

“Where was Mr. Lee?” I decided to change my questioning to keep her from getting any more upset.

“He came over after Daddy gived-gave me my present.” 

“Did he say anything to…Daddy?” I literally had to swallow the bile rising in my throat.

It took Yuki a moment to respond before she said, “Mr. Lee picked me up and asked Daddy who he was.”

“Anything else?” I pushed knowing it was a little unfair to expect her to remember everything the men said or did but my three year old was my only witness.

“Ummmm yeah!” she said excitedly, “Daddy asked Mr. Lee why are you holding my daughter? And then Mr. Lee said dat I don’t have a daddy. But den Daddy showed Mr. Lee a piece of paper and Daddy told me that he would see me and mommy later and got in the big car again. ”

Oh Jesus Christ. He never changes. Over possessive asshole and what the hell did he show Yuki’s teacher? Such a jerk off move to use my kid as a way to exert some weirdo caveman claim on me. 

This was a mess I did not agree to and it was stressing me out. I had no immediate fix to remedy Yuta throwing himself into Yuki’s life. I didn’t even have a clue on where to begin to unravel everything my baby daddy put into her head.

“Thanks baby,” I patted her head, “Go wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

“Okay mommy.” she scooted off as I made off for the kitchen.

I never quite made it there because there was a knock on the front door. I sighed I didn’t want to deal with any door-to-door missionaries or salesmen. I went to check the peephole and saw my worst nightmare standing there.

Looking more delicious than the last time I had seen him. Tight ass tshirt hugging his pecs and abs. His organization’s tattoos were covered by the jacket he wore all but the ones on his neck. That same damn tiger he gave to Yuki was peeking over his shirt collar like a damn slap to my face.

Against my better judgment I opened the door. I had a bone to pick with him about going behind my back.

“So you’re a stalker now?” I asked with a strong bite.

He flashed his panty dropping smile at me as he smashed the cigarette he was smoking out under his fancy loafers.

“Only for you baby,” he poked at me with that cheeky tone, “And of course our beautiful Yuki.”

I frowned in anger instantly, “You had no right to go to her school Yuta.”

He tsked, “Why not? Because you said so? Last time I checked I never signed over my parental rights.”

“Are you serious right now?” I gasped in shock, “You abandoned us not an hour after she took her first breath! You never came out of the shadows to do anything with her! As far as I am concerned you did sign off on any kind of rights or relationship.”

His cheeks flushed red which meant he was starting to lose his temper. A real shocker.

“You have no idea the threats I was facing at work, I abandoned our family so that you and our daughter wouldn’t get hurt or worse.”

“Why weren’t you honest with me then? I would’ve understood if it came down to her safety—”

“You’re full of it babe you gave me a hard time whenever I uttered a single word about the family. If I had told you the truth at the time you would’ve ran and I would have never been able to keep tabs on you and Yuki like I’ve been able to since she was born. At least this way I could be with you during your pregnancy and keep you both safe even if that meant I couldn’t be with you after you gave birth to her.”

My head was spinning and I felt like I was being gaslighted, “When I told you I was pregnant you told me to get an abortion.”

He let out a hum, “And when you slapped me across my face that was the end of it. I knew how serious you were about wanting her. I never said another word about it.”

“You’re literally insane…” I mumbled running an entirely confused hand through my hair.

“No doubt about that babe you knew that when we got together back in school. Now that we’ve cleared the air may I please come in and see our daughter? I brought gifts…and since you chose to be petty and ignore me about what size she is I also brought gift receipts.”

I finally noticed the large men standing off to the side with armfuls of gift bags, large, small, medium, mostly girly in prints and pinks. Oh my god he’s bribing my kid, he’s seriously bribing my daughter. 

“Yuta do you realize how confusing this must be for her? Like you were nonexistent in her three years of life and just want to pop in with presents and pretend like you were always there? That’s not fair to her, just because you’re her biological father doesn't automatically mean you have a relationship with her. And while we’re on the subject, what the hell did you show to Mark?”

Yuta ticked his jaw to the side and licked his lips; he was angry for sure.

“Who the fuck is Mark?” He snapped at me some of his cool demeanor flying out the window. 

Jealous. Again. Over someone who watches Yuki. Utterly ridiculous.

“Yuki’s teacher, remember?” I bit back, “You shoved something in his face, what was it?”

“Her fucking birth certificate,” he said with a clenched jaw, “So you’re on a first name basis with all of her teachers then?”

“Nakamoto Yuta,” I spat, “Enough with your petty jealousy it’s irritating and irrational and also unwarranted.”

“Apparently it isn’t if you’re on a first name basis with her teacher.”

I was 1000% over his childish attitude. This wasn’t the first time we argued over his tendency to get jealous. 

“Have a lovely evening Yuta,” I started to close the door but one of the beefy men blocked me from slamming it in my baby daddy’s face.

Yuta snapped at the man in Japanese but looked back to me, “Let me in to see our daughter (Y/n).”

“I didn’t bow to you three years ago and I’m certainly not doing it now,” I growled at him, “You can’t snap your fingers and expect me to jump for you like a dog.”

He ran a hand through his dark shaggy hair in anger, “I expect you to let me have a relationship with our daughter.”

I folded my arms across my chest in means of frustration and protection, “What’s your endgame here Yuta?”

“There’s no endgame here (Y/n) but wanting a relationship with Yuki.”  

“Why now though Yuta?” I questioned him with my head tilted.

He opened his mouth to answer when a small cry came from behind me. “Daddy!”

I blocked my daughter’s view by placing my legs in front of the small slot made by the door, “Look what you’ve done. How am I supposed to explain to her that you left when you inevitably leave again?”

The look on his face was a mixture of anger and hurt with his jaw clenched he said, “What I did to keep you and Yuki safe should not be what you hold against me (Y/n), I’ve done a lot of things to warrant your resentment but this is not one of them I promise. You chose me too, you know? It takes two people to have a baby.”

“It’s not my fault the condom broke Yuta…” I growled quietly and my eyes shifted toward my elderly neighbor who was out walking her Poodle. Apparently I wasn’t quiet enough since she gave us an affronted look on her way by.

“It’s your fault you weren’t taking the pill babe,” he said just as angry, “We can point fingers all we want but it’s a little late for the blame game don’t you think? All I want is to see our daughter. Regardless of our past, Yuki has the right to a father.”

My daughter began swatting my legs so she could get to Yuta, “Mommy I wanna see Daddy. Move please!”

I scoffed at how rude my daughter was, “Yuki, that's not how we ask to get by, telling someone to move is impolite.”

“Sorry Mommy but Daddy’s here!”

“Sugar I’ve already told you that you do not have a–”

“(Y/n) don’t you dare finish that sentence. You’re the one that’s going to confuse her. Come here my baby girl, I brought you something!”

My blood boiled as I watched my baby daddy pick my little girl up and kiss her cheek while letting her peek into one of the large gift bags. I couldn’t resist the little smile that poked through at her excited squeal, her happiness was contagious.

My stomach may have done a flip when I noticed the soft look on my ex’s face as he helped Yuki rifle through the clothes he had bought her. It was probably just wishful thinking on my part, but seeing him hold my child just felt natural.

I awkwardly made eye contact with another neighbor who lived across the way and even with the distance I could see the judgmental look on his face. I sighed, finally relenting to let the men in. I didn’t want anyone to report me to the landlord on suspicious activity.

I pushed the door aside and motioned to Yuta, “Come inside, people are staring.”

He gave me that gorgeous smile that got me pregnant in the first place, “Thanks baby.”

As I allowed his guards inside I knew I was going to live to regret my decision but what could one visit hurt?

A lot.

It could hurt a lot.

[nathaniel-underwood-is-an-intj]

Looong rant about chapter 16 Ptolemy's Gate and how being passive can add to the cycle of ab*se.

oof so I just read when Nat goes to see Ms Lutyens and I can't help but be absolutely furious at her??

I know that's maybe a little bit unfair given she's frightened of him as a magician and is obviously angry when she finds out the department he's responsible for, but honestly it kinda brings up the problem with inadvertent bystanders to child ab*se in my mind.

And I'm definitely not blaming her solely for who Nat becomes but it makes me think of all those people in huge child ab*se cases who give interviews to press about all the things they noticed that were wrong but they just...never do anything?

She stood up for him against Lovelace, and when Nat thanked her- "I wanted to say that I know you were trying to save me, and-"

''Yes, and I'm sorry I didn't" Like girl be for real did you really think that alone would undo the years of indoctrination and abuse he's already suffered and prevent years worth of the same in the years to come? And she won't take responsibility - "My job is with children, not the adults they become" and again while it seems harsh to blame her for who Nat becomes, it's so much easier to pass the blame to people who are more directly responsible rather than acknowledging you also play a part.

I think it hurts so much more because it's her specifically- Nat goes to her in sheer desperation, it almost seems like a goodbye- he wants to thank her, tries to set her up in a job that will pay well and struggles to communicate he's trying to help. At this point he thinks Bartimaeus has been summoned by another magician and his birth name will be revealed. He's sure he's about to die and if not he'll be stood on trial and lose everything.

He goes to her because she represents the peaceful moments from his childhood when he got away from his master. He's scared and feeling lost and really it's call for help; but he doesn't ask for anything he just wants to make her feel proud of him- he's looking for that validation that he's been chasing since childhood.

And that shows he still does have that little bit of childhood innocence in him; he thinks she will be proud, thinks she'll see him as the same little boy in the garden gazing up at his teacher in adoration. He can't quite grasp why she's separated the man stood before her from that little boy. Because in that moment the child inside Nathaniel is seeking comfort AND THAT'S WHY it makes me so angry. She's completely given up on him when he's at his lowest ebb, because she doesn't want to be associated with the magician he's become. As if it isn't a massive step in the right direction that he saught her out in the first place- what other magican would bother? I wonder if that's why she reacted so strongly to seeing him again? Before that moment she could go about her life wondering if /pretending her attempt to protect him was enough, and now she realises it wasn't, of course it wasn't, and the image she had of Nathaniel's childhood innocence is completely ruined in her mind.

Or was her contempt for him even grater than Nat realised? She was naturally disgusted by the rhetoric he'd started to repeat from a young age, and gently tried to correct him although she was clearly angry- was she just resigned to the fact that there is little else she could do to change his future? I always thought- couldn't she have looked for him? The Underwood house fire was in the papers and they mentioned the apprentice was being searched for. Did she ever worry about him? Surely something must have been in the papers since- an announcement of new ministers, ANYTHING! Look at how much research Kitty did to find out about Bartimaeus and Ptolemy. I just don't think Rosanna Lutyens cared enough, realistically Nathaniel wasn't hard to find- but he was no longer her responsibility so she could turn a blind eye.

And sadly it's not just her- I know everyone loves Martha Underwood including Nat; but I think her submissiveness to her husband has a negative effect on Nathaniel as well. In AOS when Nat is locked in his room for ages after setting the mites loose, and is forbidden to have any contact with anyone and she won't talk with him. I know she's been told by Mr. Underwood she can't, but it still boils my blood. She's an adult and going along with ignoring Nathaniel because her husband told her to...I can't even begin to imagine the psychological damage that would do to a 10 year old child. (It could be argued she's frightened of the consequences if her husband finds out she's disobeyed him which is fair, he could always be watching through magic- but this is Arthur Underwood we're talking about. He's lazy, oblivious and weak I doubt he'd expend all that energy each day to check up on her.)

And It's even more painful that Nathaniel is often described as fiercely loyal to her and I think to Ms Lutyens as well- he doesn't expect to be treated well by Arthur Underwood but he loved Mrs Underwood and Ms Lutyens so much he started to view them through a rose-coloured lense. He never feels betrayed by either of them, even though they absolutely let him down, because the pedestal he's put them on is too high AND THAT ABSOLUTELY DESTROYS ME.

Would things with Nathaniel have been any different if Mrs Underwood hadn't died? I don't really think so. Do you think she'd see Nathaniel's temper at 14 years old and be reminded of Arthur Underwood? He was awful, absolutely awful to Nat and to her; but he was under so much stress in an underfunded departement, where pressure was being put on him by superiors to accomplish far more than they knew him to be capable of, and he took it out on the easiest target. Nathaniel ends up in exactly the same place and he starts to take it out on the only person around him- Bartimaeus. Would he snap at Mrs Underwood all the time if she were still there? Because he's learnt that behaviour from his father figure, and subconsciously learnt from his mother figure that she'll put up with it. He learnt from the woman he loved so deeply, that if you don't resist, people will walk all over you. So you have to maintain control even if it ends up hurting people you care about because no one will step in to stop the suffering no matter how much you love them, no matter how much you want them too.

It's easy to blame Arthur Underwood and Simon Lovelace and the magicians that actively hurt Nathaniel but I just feel like it's a bit disingenuous not to acknowledge the role of those doing passive harm. It's really mean to say it but even Bartimaeus plays a role- he knows Nat is clinging on to him because he can't 'bring himself to break this last connection' (to his childhood) but instead of bringing it up properly he 'taunts' Nathaniel- a boy who has been taunted for his weakness by his master for years. And even in AOS when Nathaniel tells Bartimaeus he was beaten for the mites incident Bart just kinda shrugs it off. Like I get it, why should Bartimaeus do anything, he's suffered way worse due to the system so he doesn't owe Nat anything right? But from Nat's point of view this is the first and only time he's mentioned to anyone what has happened to him and nothing changes. It's like another lesson learnt: telling someone about it doesn't help. Another nail in the coffin.

And I like all these characters, I feel bad for them. They're all victims of the system, I think the chapter with Ms Lutyens is just the straw that broke the camel's back for me. All of those little opportunities that are insignificant to the narrative over all; the commoners have it worse, Nathaniel is in a privileged position in society, exerting control over others. He's very morally grey, crossing over into objectively bad person territory but I love him with my whole heart and all of those insignificant moments would have been massive to him whether he was conscious of it or not.

And it goes all the way back to the beginning with Nat's parents giving him up to the magicians at 5 years old. I can't get the image of that little boy sat crying all alone in the government building. And he's not going somewhere safer, or somewhere he'll be happier and more loved. Giving your child over to a total stranger, oh he'll be totally fine won't he? He'll grow up to be a magician and far richer than you'll ever be, he'll be happy and comfortable and be grateful he got to grow up in luxury. There's no way a stranger you've never met, who the majority of society is terrified of would ever hurt a vulnerable little kid right? And if they do? Well you aren't responsible anymore, how could you know? What could you possibly do against the magician taking care of him?

Every little thing is another grain of sand tipping the scale. Did anyone else have to analyse An Inspector Calls in school? It feels like that to me- those BIG moments and all the little moments in between that add onto the pile.

And it goes on to cause problems in wider society too- ab*se is so normalised to the magicians, they casually ask Underwood if he hits Nathaniel like it's nothing. Because to them it is nothing, they've all grown up in the same circumstances and are repeating what they've learnt as children. I can't help but feel a little sorry for them all, especially when they aren't looked at through the black and white lense of 'argh these people are the evil arseholes look at how they treat everyone around them, screw these guys.' When we see those little glimpses of humanity like Simon's anxiety with the amulet; looking to his master and father figure Schyler for reassurance, and what's sad is that Nat is "reminded...of his own master's cold impatience" It's clear Simon looks up to his master, wants to make him proud and loves him. But it seems like Schyler has just trained Simon up so he can get power through him later on. I love the little hints of similarities between Simon and Nathaniel; the anxious mannerisms like fiddling with his hair that Nathaniel starts to develop, the way their master's talk to them. Even though they're actively working against each other in AOS and Simon is placed firmly in the baddies category and Nat in the goodies category at this point in the series; these things always hinted to me they had similar childhoods, how was Simon treated? When he had the imp beat Nat into unconsciousness, was it because he'd had the same punishment used against him? Did he know the magicians in the room would do nothing to stop him because no one stopped it from happening to him? Did he ever have a teacher stand up for him only for it to change nothing in the end because all the negative influences were so much stronger? Is the reason he loves Schyler like a dad because he's almost developed Stockholm syndrome? It looks like love because he's never known anything else.

And Arthur Underwood- who doesn't think his upbringing, and being taken away from his family ever did him any harm- doesn't realise the harm done is that he doesn't even know another way of raising Nathaniel, because he was never shown another way. His childhood may also have been filled with people who hurt him and the people that didn't do enough to intervene.

There are so many psychology studies that show children copy everything they see the adults in their life doing. Nathaniel copies the magicians behaviour towards spirits and on a subconscious level I think he copies all the submissive people in his life. How many times does he end up upset and frustrated with the fact he seems to be going nowhere and how many times does he just hope things will be different rather than taking postive action.

I dislike the actions the magicians end up taking but I also find them fascinating to analyse. I tend to prefer villains in media because they're usually slightly more complex individuals and I love to think about how they ended up that way. They can all be seen as victims of their circumstances in a way, despite all the power and privilege they have had terrible and traumatic childhoods, and if the commoners had no valuable worldy possessions at least they had a sense of togetherness; of love and understanding and selflessness. I wonder if the magicians hated them at least partly because of that. Because out in the sea of faces of the commoners talking about nothing important, doing nothing great and noble- could be the parents that abandoned them. And when your life is on the line daily because of working with spirits, and your colleagues want to stab you in the back, sometimes not being responsible for anything important looks good. But you can't leave your life as a magician, it would be too difficult; you have nowhere to go, no real friends, no one who really loves you. So it's better to stay and be a submissive bystander in your own life because it's so much easier.

Doing nothing is doing something- being passive can be just as harmful.

[salaimoi]

first story from my new, ongoing series: talk to me nice. feel free to leave any constructive criticism! (I can handle it, unlike Gojo)

"Look, I didn't ask for your stupid advice, so don't pretend like you know everything."

Gojo hissed at you, nearly popping a vein from how smug you were being right now.

The only thing you suggested was that he stop dressing like somebody’s grandpa all the time – he had a physique carved by the gods themselves, why not put it to use? Such a waste, honestly.

"Mm~ whatever. So sassy," you replied, followed by an eye roll violent enough to nearly cause your eyes to fall clean off your skull. “Ever heard of constructive criticism?”

"Yeah, yeah. You know, instead of just giving me advice all the time, why don't you compliment me for once? You know, say something nice about me — it's not that hard. "

"Me? Compliment you? Gojo please. Unless you wire me every single yen in your bank account, you won't hear a single praise come out of this mouth.”

Even though he himself felt very frustrated right now, he couldn't stop himself from enjoying the banter – so much so that he would begin to grin as he tried to control himself from bursting out laughing. You were playing a dangerous game here because he could actually make this deal happen, and you were perfectly aware of that — but despite that, you were still trying to push his buttons and he’d make you eat your words because of it.

"You know what, I think I will actually do just that. So let me ask you, what happens when I send over every yen in my bank account, will you genuinely compliment yours truly?" he smirks in that usual arrogant manner, growing more and more interested by the second. "I better get my money’s worth, you know."

Still thinking he was bluffing, you replied, "Obviously. But you only get one compliment."

"Humm~ fine, and it better be the most heart shattering compliment in the history of compliments — soul crushing even. Now, I'll go ahead and transfer you the money," he paused for a moment before remembering something rather important. 

"I need your bank account number to wire the money."

"W-wait … you're not serious are you?”

"Why would I lie? I’m serious about this and you'll also be serious about your part, got it? So I need that bank account number now."

"Are you insane!? I was only kidding, genius!"

"Maybe I am, but I'm doing this because I really want your compliment. So don't try to discourage me because for every minute we spend arguing here, I'm losing my patience.”

And it wasn’t like he needed your flattery; he just wanted to hear you sing his praises as a contrast to your usual behavior. You were always so cold and apathetic around him, but he knew that wasn’t the real you — and he took it upon himself to reveal the side you buried under that stoic facade. 

“So just tell me your bank account number and I'm going to transfer the money to your account right now — the full 59 billion."

Your body froze in utter shock as you realized he was dead serious. Straightening yourself on the mattress, your mouth hung wide open — staring at him in disbelief. The realization of it all was enough to cause one of your eyes to twitch in perplexity.

"Gojo you must've lost your mind if you think I'm gonna accept that,” you scoffed at how insufferable he really was, but secretly loving every second of it. "Who in their right mind would spend ¥59 billion on one compliment?"

"Only people who can afford it, of course,” he smirks cynically, tossing his phone up into the air just for it to land right back onto his palm. “If you ask me, ¥59 billion is too small a price for a compliment directly out of that pretty mouth of yours.” 

“You’re insufferable. For fucks sake, you should have a mental disorder named after you.”

“But you can't actually deny that I'm pretty charming, can you? You might not show a hint of  affection, but I think it's pretty obvious that you like my insufferable attitude. Or are you gonna deny that you don't?"

He unlocked his phone, opening the banking app and going into the transfer section.

You didn’t hesitate to smack the phone out of his hand, causing it to fall down on the bed. 

"Satoru, are you even listening to me!!??"

"Heh~ you're actually quite impressive when you finally get serious. You were really quick there with that tiny hand of yours.”

“This tiny hand of mine will be enclosing around your neck until you’re out of oxygen if you continue to act like an unsupervised child with access to money.”

His expression was thoughtful for a few seconds before he pointed at you, flashing his pearly whites.

"You know, you're actually pretty attractive when you get all aggressive like that. It really looks cute on you. I don't know if I can actually handle someone who's this much of a pain in the ass but still has a cute side to her."

He chortles, leaning back on the headboard before continuing, "See? That’s how you compliment someone, wasn’t that hard now was it? Now you do it.”

Your eyes narrow, two fingers rubbing at your temples as you contemplate the situation.

"You know what. Fine. If you want to recklessly spend your money like this, I'll give you what you want. No comment until I see that money in my bank account, though."

This reply made him burst out laughing, his grin becoming a bit bigger and he began to speak with a playful tone.

"Alright, if you say so. But just remember, it'll be too late to back out after I've already sent the money…”

[One new notification: direct deposit from Gojo Satoru received. New balance: ¥59,000,000,000.024.]

"..."

“Don’t you have anything to say?”

"...you have nice eyes?"

"..."

"..."

“I want a refund right this instant, y/n.”

[tobiasdrake]

Here we go, it's Ranma time. Episode 5! The introduction to Ryoga continues.

God, I love how mournfully quiet this is.

This is what happens when women write women. Male writers don't often think about things like just how much a long-haired girl's hair means to her. Akane's been growing that out for years.

Look at how little she was when she started growing her hair. That is the product of years. Many years. Gone in an instant.

But she rolls with the punches. Akane has remarkable emotional fortitude. She'd kind of have to in order to survive all the shit she's had to put up with in her day-to-day life.

I love that they leave so much unstated, yet clearly implied, about the way her long hair relates to her longstanding crush on Dr. Tofu. When she says she wants to grow it out so she can be like Kasumi, there's an implication there that she thinks Dr. Tofu will like her more if she has Kasumi's hairstyle.

She's trying to walk in her big sister's shoes so that the man who likes her big sister might look her way. An idea that was doomed from the moment of its conception. She was never going to beat Kasumi at being Kasumi, and if she has to try, then she's already failed.

The manga's a bit more explicit about this, as Kasumi directly tells Baby Akane that Dr. Tofu won't like her very much if she keeps acting like a boy. From that, she draws the conclusion that having hair like Kasumi will make him like her more. But the reboot anime keeps it implied and understated.

So there's a lot going on here when Akane breaks down and cries into Dr. Tofu's chest. This is the end of an era. The loss of her hair symbolizes the death of a child's dream. The end of her efforts to be more like Kasumi so that this man would like her better, and the beginning of a new era where someone else out there will like her for being Akane.

While also demonstrating how much she leans on and depends on Dr. Tofu as a stabilizing figure in her life. She feels safe enough with him to finally let down her walls and cry out the grief over her lost hair, in a way she doesn't have at school or at home. Ironically mourning the death of her pursuit of him to him.

My dude, you desperately need to get a hobby. Supervillains are more considerate. Giving some real Vegeta energy here, but specifically the TeamFourStar kind.

And also the Tendo home desperately needs to get some door locks because he just strolled right on in here to do this.

And they both get punished for this.

Story of Ranma's life.

Takahashi's comedy remains incredible. Kasumi objects to Akane going out there not because she doesn't think Akane can take the mystery robber but because she wants Akane to hit him with something heavier.

I want that too. So Kasumi and I are on the same page.

She does, too. Nails Ryoga right in the back of the neck with a long-range shotput throw of that fucking barbell. Akane wins Ranma v. Ryoga, Round 2.

The moral of the story is to... not... do... anything that Ryoga did here.

...or, really, anything that Ryoga ever does. Don't be like Ryoga. That's sound life advice. (Not that the rest of the cast is any better.)

Immediately followed by Kasumi with another punchline. Man, I did not remember how funny she is.

Akane's rematch with Ryoga goes super well too. She is on fire.

Sincerely want to know what could possibly have possessed him to think jumping Akane while in piglet form was a good idea.

So begins the saga of P-chan.

AND ALL FOR BREAD AND BREAD-RELATED PRODUCTS

My dude.

The curry bun was not worth it.

Like.

Like. The part where Ranma knocked Ryoga into the piggy spring without noticing and then Genma tried to fucking eat him? Yeah. I can see being homicidally mad about that.

But he didn't even know that was them until literally this scene. Everything up to this point has been Ryoga blaming Ranma because he, Ryoga, stalked Ranma to China to avenge his curry bun.

Speaking of Genma.

I love how he just walks in on his son in girly form having Naked Bath Time with some random boy, and his response is to just... apologize and peace out. Whatever this is, it's none of his business.

Actually, not just any random boy. Specifically the random boy that got Ranma in trouble earlier tonight when he snuck into their bedroom for a late-night call.

Genma definitely thinks these two are up to shenanigans.

Literally the only member of her family that actually objects to Ranma sneaking into Akane's room late at night to do shenanigans to her (read: trying to fucking extract Ryoga from an unsuspecting Akane's bed) is Kasumi. Who merely scolds Ranma for moving too fast.

Is it any wonder she doesn't feel safe being emotionally vulnerable at home?

(Seriously, though, there is so much drama that could be avoided if Ranma would just tell Akane that P-chan is Ryoga. She has a right to know that, and not telling her makes Ranma complicit in Ryoga's shittiness.)

[eff-plays]

To me it's not really about morality if I have to be honest. I'm an Isaac Castlevania stan and he wanted to kill literally all of humanity. Like I don't care if you play evil characters or get off to immoral dom daddies or whatever. I've wanted to punt children in Skyrim into the sun for saying sassy shit to me so like. It's a video game where you kill people. I do not care.

To me, the "problem" (or rather, the thing I like making fun of the most) is just how very surface-level evil the Ascendant ending is, how obviously evil it is, how Larian pretty much beats you over the head with it using very simple and traditional storytelling techniques ("you'll have to kill 7000 people, including literal children btw"), and how some people still manage to twist it into something it isn't (a triumphant, perfect ending) despite Larian constantly blasting at you how bad it is. (And this isn't a critique, it works well and tropes are tropes for a reason, this shit works.)

And it's not even a unique setup. It's a classic dichotomy of want vs need. That's why they're contrasting endings. Astarion wants power, but he needs freedom and self-worth. That's the gist of it.

That's why I love the epilogue titles so much, because they perfectly sum up the endings. Radiant Hopeful, because he's his own light in the dark. For someone who's been a pessimistic asshole after suffering for two centuries, that's HUGE. Sunwalking Regent means he can walk in the sun, a symbol for everything he wanted, but "regent" implies he's a temporary ruler. Someone, somewhere, will come to de-throne him one day, and every day he fears that moment. His newfound power binds him to constant fear and paranoia, and he always searches for new ways to become stronger, because in his mind, he can never be strong enough.

Spawn ending is bittersweet: he lost power, he's still cursed with vampirism and can't walk in the sun, but he is free, he is his own person and he has hope for the future. He's decided for himself what he wants to do, and that's adventuring and helping others, lending his strength to those who do not have any, in his own weird way. He's physically weaker than Ascendant Astarion, and yet he's got strength to spare.

So what's the flip side? In the ascendant ending, he has power, he has control, he has money. But he's paranoid, he's controlling, and he's terrified of losing it all again, because without it, he believes he's nothing, so having it becomes his one and only purpose. It's also bittersweet, because he finally has everything he wanted, but he'll never again have what he truly needs.

These are like ... classic tropes. You can't have it all. You have to make a choice. The thing you think you want, or the thing you don't know you need. AA stans argue that actually, no. His endings are actually suuuper flat and uninteresting. Either he stays a weak and worthless and fearful spawn, or he becomes a strong and powerful and manly supervampire (let's not unpack the masculinity stuff here cuz that's a whole other bag of yikes). That's the argument they're making. That it's a black and white choice of either you pick the stuff where everything works out forever or the stuff where he's a loser lapdog who has to obey Tav because men must either control to be real men or are controlled pussies who can't do fuck (again, not getting into that here). And it's just literally not how the story is set up. None of the companion stories are this flat. If they were, there wouldn't be any argument or choice to make. No pros and cons to weigh. And it's just logically not a good gameplay mechanic, for a role-playing game.

And yet there are people who are just choosing not to get it, just the way I choose to believe it's a choice for most of them because I don't want to believe so many of these people are genuinely this stupid.

So yeah. That's why I block AA fans on sight. Not because I think their fetish is funny (though I do), but because I genuinely don't think I would have anything to gain from people who fundamentally cannot comprehend extremely basic storytelling techniques when they're practically spelled out for you with not-very-subtle methods. It's not even a thing of consciously choosing the bad ending where he's a very shitty daddy dom because it gets them off, that's literally whatever to me, but the fact that most of them genuinely believe it's somehow the better ending.

Despite. Well all of the shit I wrote above.

So yeah. It's not about enjoying evil characters, to me. People who do generally don't brush the actual evil part under the rug. It's the refusal or apparent inability to grasp extremely basic storytelling concepts lmao. And for what? Pff.

[dangerousduckcloud]

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

Dick jumped from the car, walking until he was consumed by the darkness that surrounded you. Seconds passed and nothing happened, no movement, no sound, nothing. It’s now or never. The door opened without a problem, barely making a sound, but one that could be misinterpreted by the hooting of owls nearby. You stood there for a full second, waiting to see if Nightwing would come back, but he didn’t. Taking a few steps backwards, you hastily turned in your place, ready to run away as fast as you could.

Chapter 3 < > Chapter 5

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog

Ever since you were a child, your parents would engrave the phrase ‘do not get into a car with strangers’ into your mind every single day. And you listened, feeling uneasy as a teen every time you had to get into a taxi by yourself, the sentiment not quite leaving you even now that you were a young adult.

But when the stranger had a real life Batmobile which could go up to 500km/h? Well, that’s something worth risking your life for. After all, how many people could say they had the opportunity to ride in an exact replica of the legendary car?

Besides, did that sentence applied when you were already staying with the stranger?

“All these buttons work?”

“Yeah.”

“What does this one do?”

“That’s the comms.”

“What about this one?”

“GPS.”

“And this one?”

“Emergency eject.”

If Dick didn’t had plans to kill you, he likely did now. The moment your eyes spotted the car, you ran straight towards it, throwing yourself inside when Dick unlocked it, your parents’ precaution all but forgotten.

The interior was everything you expected. Black leather seats with dark red detailing, more gauges than a normal car should have that you didn’t even know what they were measuring, the dashboard packed with dark gray buttons, some labeled with numbers, others with letters, you only stopped trying to press them when Dick almost swerved off the road at seeing you were about to push the auto-destruction button.

But that didn’t stop you from asking.

“This one?”

“That’s the GCPD radio.”

“And what about—FUCK!” Stepping on the pedal, the car reached a speed at which no normal human should be able to drive. “Stop! STOP!”

Just seconds before you would hit a car waiting for the red light to change —even though it was way past midnight, and the streets were empty— the Batmobile stopped, the force of movement sending you forward, an ‘ooph’ leaving your mouth once your chest hit the dashboard.

Dick’s shoulders were shaking with mirth.

“If you wanted me to shut up, you could’ve said so.” You complained while rubbing your shoulder, sure that the seatbelt would leave a mark.

“I’m sorry.” He pursed his lips, stepping on the pedal once more, this time at a normal speed. “Are you alright?”

“I guess I’ll survive.” Reclining on the seat, you took a second to take a deep breath, calming your body before it decided to return your meal. “So, how far is Mr. Wayne’s house?”

“On the other side of the city, all the way to the outskirts.”

You’re certain he was lying, that his plan involved driving you around to get ‘lost’ and not realize you’d gone back to the same place, something that totally would’ve work if you didn’t know the truth, whatever the truth was.

“Can we at least turn on the radio?” You asked, hoping it would help you learn where were you, because no matter how far he’d drive, you couldn’t recognize any part of the city. Had they moved you to a whole different town? “This car has a normal radio, right?”

He hummed, thoughtlessly hitting a button, and bringing to life the voice of whatever talk show host was on at this hour.

“… Top-up security if so many prisoners keep escaping.” The woman in the radio said. “But I guess once can get complacent when you have grown men in tights running around beating up these criminals and bringing them back. That’s Gotham for you, folks. Time’s fifteen past two am. Temperature’s…”

Great, so the radio was of no use as well. Just how many people did they have on this scheme? Was this something pre-recorded?

Your feelings were a weird mix of danger, curiosity, anxiousness, and hopelessness. Nothing made sense, what did they want with you? Why you? Were you simply on the wrong place, at the wrong time?

This wouldn’t be happening if only you’d remember to charge your earphones and— That’s it! Your phone!

Chiding yourself for forgetting it, you moved on your seat pretending to soothe a cramping leg, but in reality, you were patting your right leg for the hidden pocket on your pant, something you had to sew in most of your clothes after getting mugged the first time you moved to the city.

The rectangular bulge your fingers brushed over your thigh brought some peace of mind, meaning they hadn’t done anything to you, not even pat you down to make sure you wouldn’t call the police.

Were they amateur kidnappers?

Song after song was the only thing filling the space inside the car, some random add here and there on the radio.

“Won’t Mr. Wayne be mad we’ll wake him up at two in the morning?” You decided to break the silence.

“Nah, it’s a Friday, he’ll most likely be just returning from some party. We’re almost there.”

‘There’ was pretty vague, tall buildings had transformed into a beautiful field, moonshine reflecting on the early morning dew on the grass. ‘There’ was nothing here, just a road that continued behind a hill.

The car came to a stop, all kind of alarms flaring at full volume inside your head. There was no one here, there was nothing here. They could kill you or brainwash your brain and people would be none the wiser, no one would be able to help you.

“Wait here.”

Dick jumped from the car, walking until he was consumed by the darkness that surrounded you. Seconds passed and nothing happened, no movement, no sound, nothing.

It’s now or never.

The door opened without a problem, barely making a sound, but one that could be misinterpreted by the hooting of owls nearby. You stood there for a full second, waiting to see if Nightwing would come back, but he didn’t. Taking a few steps backwards, you hastily turned in your place, ready to run away as fast as you could.

That is, if a body hadn’t impeded your escape. A ‘humph’ escaped you for the second time that night, followed by a scream that you hoped would alert someone and come help you.

“Safe.” The body —a girl? — said, hands raised. “You’re safe.”

Hurried steps resonated on the concrete, getting closer and closer until they came to a halt.

“Jane?” Dick asked, worried. “What happened?”

“I… I…” Words elude you, what could you say? ‘Yeah, my bad, I was trying to escape’? “I just… You didn’t come back and…”

“I see you met Cass” A different voice spoke this time, older and blithely, the voice of someone you would see on those air-headed reality shows. “She’s my daughter, nice to meet you, I’m Bruce Wayne.” The man extended a hand towards you, and your brain short-circuited, looking from his hand to his face, wasn’t he supposed to be ‘missing in another universe’? "Are you alright?"

Coming out of your stupor, you shook his hand, closing your gaping mouth with a click.

“Nice to meet you, sir. Thank you for, uh… For taking me in. I’m… Jane.” You settled on telling him the name Tim had given you, you weren’t sure if they knew your real name, but didn’t want to tell them in case they didn’t. “I’m sorry to be an inconvenience, specially at this hour.”

Now that he was closer and the moon shone on his face, you could appreciate how handsome he was, sure that he was someone who had all kinds of men and women throwing themselves at him.

“You’re not an inconvenience, when Nightwing called I was more than happy to give you a room in my home. And my daughter and I were just getting home after a charity gala, in case you were worried you woke us up.”

“Oh.” His story checked out, as he was dressed in a luxurious tuxedo that probably costed more than your rent, drenched in what looked like wine. And the girl, Cass, was wearing a beautiful but simple black cocktail dress. “Why wait here?”

“You see…” The man, Bruce, or whatever his real name was, cleared his throat, rubbing a hand behind his back, and a coy smile on his face. “I’m trying to avoid certain gossip that has been coming up more with the years.”

Nightwing did his best to not laugh, instead covering it with a couple of coughs, eliciting a heated glance from Bruce.

“As much as I would love to hear the story, I gotta go.” Dick said. “The Scarecrow escaped again and we’re getting close to capture him. Jane?”

He led you a few meters away from Bruce and Cass.

“I know how hard this all must be, but I promise you, you’re safe, there’s no safer place on Gotham than Wayne Manor. But if you ever feel threatened…” He pulled out a rectangular metal plate, barely longer than your hand, with only a red button in the middle. “This is a signal emitter, if you press the button, both Red Robin and I will receive the signal, and we’ll immediately come and get you, wherever you are, okay?”

“Okay.” The gift warmed your heart, tears welling in your eyes. “Thank you.”

He hugged you and led you back again with the Waynes. You watched the Batmobile drive off into the city, the spot getting tinier and tinier until it disappeared.

“Ready to go?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah, sure.” You cleaned a stray tear with your sleeve, clearing your throat and followed both to a costly car hidden behind a tree. Sitting on the back seat, with Cass on the passenger seat, and Bruce driving.

The car screamed luxury everywhere you looked, there was even a mini fridge inside, and TV screens on the seat’s backrest. However, it didn’t look like a car that was used too much, maybe only to show off when going to parties, not to do menial tasks, like groceries or errands.

“So, Jane.” Bruce spoke. “How old are you?”

“22.”

“Ah, that’s great! Cass is 23, I’m sure you two will get along just fine!” From the mirror, Cass smiled sweetly at you, which you felt forced to give back. “I have more kids, but they’re not home most of the time, only Cass and Tim are full time living in the manor right now, although Dick has been spending more time there lately.”

“Tim is nice. But he is tired.”

Bruce chuckled, pressing a button on the screen in the dashboard. “Yeah, he loves staying up until late with his silly videogames, don’t feel offended if he doesn’t talk to you, most of the time he won’t recognize people until he’s had his third cup of coffee.”

“Is that… Healthy?”

“No.” Cass replied with a flat tone.

Silence befell the car, moving your sight from the side window to the front when the sound of old gates moving reached your ears, mouth agape and a gasp of awe broke the silence.

At the end of the driveway, a mansion—no, a castle loomed over you, just two windows had their lights on, the rest of them as dark as the night. After getting off the car, you had to crane your neck and a bit more to see the full house.

“We can give you a tour tomorrow, I’m sure you’re tired.” Bruce mentioned, getting back inside the car. “I’ll go park the car in the garage. We prepared a room for you; Cass can show it to you in the meantime. We’ll talk tomorrow morning.”

“Alright. Thank you, Mr. Wayne. Goodnight.”

With a smiled, he closed the door, the gravel under the tires the only thing heard. A small, slender but calloused hand took hold of yours.

“Come.” Most lights were off, only a couple of lamps on helping you to not bump onto the furniture. Paintings adorned the walls you walked alongside, but most faces weren’t visible at this late night. “This is your room. This is mine.” Her’s is directly in front of yours, and you didn’t know whether to feel safe at having another girl nearby, or wary to feel monitored at all times.

“Thank you, Cass. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Turning the knob, you entered the room and made a beeline towards the bed, throwing yourself on top of it. A groan of pleasure escaped your lips once your back touched the softest bed you’d ever slept on.  

With a sigh, you force your eyes open, trying to make sense of everything that’d happened so far.

How had they all managed to get coaxed into this? Who was the mastermind behind it all? What did they want with you?

Was there a miniscule chance that this all was… Real?

[magpie-trove]

August Reads

Cress & Winter • Marissa Meyer | it was Trying Times and for some reason Lunar Chronicles is one of my go to escapes and comforts turns out. I really wanted to reread Cress but got sucked in and had to do Winter too. Still as good as the first time. Deeply near and dear to my heart.

The Talented Mrs Mandelbaum • Margalit Fox | new non fiction about a Victorian crime boss lady and her band of thieves and fencers. Short and to the point. Interesting. Wouldn’t say it was one of my favorites of the year but it was worth reading.

Your Vote Matters • Rebecca Katzman | childrens non fiction about the electoral process. Made sense and had a real nice layout and pictures!!!!. (Not a picture book it was like 80 pages or something? But yeah I like it!)

Howl’s Moving Castle • Diana Wynne Jones | was just rereading all my faves for a bit there. Still a 12/10 book.

Yours from the Tower • Sally Nicholls | new YA epistolary fiction set in the 1890’s. Surprised me! Actually had a little nuance! Was very good about the characters. Important to me cause it made me understand how people work in certain situations better than I had before. I think I cried sad and I know I happy cried a little towards the end. I do recommend.

Sonnets from the Portuguese • Elizabeth Barrett Browning | still a favorite

Voices in the Air • Naomi Shihab Nye | the Emily poem!!!!! I think I loved Everything Comes Next more, a lot of these poems got more specifically political and idk it takes away their power a bit to me? But it still had plenty of bangers

Wheels of Change • Sue Macy | YA non fiction about the role of the bicycle in the suffragette movement. Interesting topic, real nice layout, lots of good primary sources. It had a reprint of a lot of pretty funny things women were advised not to do while riding, including “do not say Feel my muscle” and “do not ask Do you like my bloomers?”

The Castle of Llyr • Lloyd Alexander | follow up to The Black Cauldron. Beloved. He writes at such a good level and manages to keep the Nobility to the story.

Kilmeny of the Orchard • LM Montgomery | I actually didn’t like this one that much? Kinda hinged on some racist stereotypes and was mean about adoptees and the romance felt kind of condescending. Idk I wasn’t really impressed.

Saintly Women of Modern Times • Joan Carroll Cruz | Learned so many cool stories!!! I did also discover though at times you need examples as encouragement and at times examples might get a little discouraging. The women highlighted were all unique and interesting though!

Mapmakers and the Lost Magic • Amanda Castillo and Cameron Chittock | children’s graphic. Nice art interesting premise and world building. I’d probably read the next one.

Uniformity with God’s Will • Alphonsus Linguori | very good

A Wish in the Dark • Christina Soontornvat | HELLO!!! Childrens fiction with the premise Les Miserables but in Thailand. LOVED IT. SHOOK. I CRIED. BEAUTIFUL. I loooved the characters looooved the words, it was sooooo goooood!!!!!!!!! Made me want to do something nothing else has ever succeeded in (read Les Miserable). Do recommend!

The Lucky Poor • Mazie Lovie | adult graphic memoir about getting a house through Habitat for Humanity and unexpected drawbacks or something? Nothing really struck me about it tbh

Sisters of the Lost Marsh • Lucy Strange | the VIIIIIIBES VIIIIBES FOR DAAYYYYS. Middle Grade fantasy based on English folklore and circus, about six sisters who’s father says they’re under a curse. Beautifully done. This one will haunt me. Do recommend.

Romanov • Nadine Brandes | YA historical fantasy. had its moments but I kinda wanted the fantasy out of it at times though it wasn’t as jarring as some other stuff in that regard. It was a nice walk in the park and then the most nightmarish thing I’d read then just kind of ok. Not bad at all but not my most favorite. I just wanted to read about Anastasia tbh. I think (?) it had a pretty good illustration of forgiveness at one point though that made it make sense to me in a new way.