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justarkive · 3 months ago

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THE JEONS | smut drabble 3

Ass Or Tits? (…Both + 1) 🔞

summary: a collection of chaotic family drabbles. thats it.

contents: family!au, non.idol jungkook, girl!dad jk, fluff, angst, sensitive topics + smut sometimes!

• chapter contents: smut!! unhinged devotion, horny affection, unprotected sex, chaotic couple energy, soft!kook but filthy smut hehe, body worship lowk. oral f receiving, anal play (rimming), nose in ur puss, tongue in ass, hands on tits… TRIPLE KILL. groping, nipple play, cum on skin, he rubs it in lol, mild spanking, face-sitting adjacent behavior?, he’s obsessed with ur ass fr, possessive!jungkook, one braincell between u both, sex but make it cinematic and unserious, romantic filth, giggly sex, “i wish we could do missionary and doggy at the same time”— and he fuckin does it… not QUITE. but he does it in his own way.

• taglist: @jenniebyrubies @lovingkoalaface @iamstilljk @elinaki92 @rpwprpwprpwprw @mafersame @parkinglot-nights @reallygenerouskoala @mimi1097 @aznstoner @jungshaking @pinkpunkdynamite @angie-x3 (check pinned to be added)

masterlist, series masterlist

Jungkook loves every single part of your body—and he makes sure you know it.

Your face? He kisses it. Slowly, obsessively, like he’s tracing every freckle with his mouth.

Your neck? He marks it. Low and dangerous, where only he gets to see.

Your tits? He’s no better than Hana, truly—always latched on, always greedy.

Your stomach? He’ll cum all over it, no shame, just moaning about how pretty you look covered in him.

Your pussy? Nothing compares. It’s his weakness, his damn religion. He’d pray to it if he could.

Your thighs? He bites them. Sinks his teeth in like he’s starving.

Your legs? Rubbed absently while you sit in his lap, his hand lazily stroking like you’re a pet he can’t stop touching.

Toes? Don’t test him. He’d suck them clean if you asked.

But your ass?

Your ass is where he dies.

Outside the bedroom, he’s no better. He’s got a hand on it constantly—squeezing, slapping, gripping it through your clothes like it’s his stress ball.

Oversized shirts and his boxers are his favorite thing you wear. He swears they’re dangerous. The way the cotton barely hangs on, the way your ass fills out those boxers too well—it drives him insane. And when you lift your arms to stretch and the shirt rides up just enough to flash the curve of it?

Dead man.

You know how weak he is for it. You’ve known for a while. And maybe that’s why you do it now—why you walk past him with nothing but one of his T-shirts and your ass on full display, glancing back with a smirk as you feel his stare burn into you.

You don’t even make it to the bed.

He’s on you before you can blink, dragging your hips back toward the couch, pushing you forward until your hands are braced against the cushions.

“Fuck—” he mutters, voice thick with reverence and hunger, already shoving the shirt up over your back, palms greedily gripping and squeezing. “Look at that. You know what you’re doing to me?”

You giggle, wiggling back into him. “No idea.”

He groans, lining himself up behind you, nudging his cock between your cheeks before pushing into you with a hiss.

“Gonna cum all over it,” he babbles, thrusting deep, dizzy. “So fucking pretty—fuck—you’re gonna let me? Baby, yeah?”

You can only nod, moaning as he hits that sweet spot over and over, breath stuttering with every bounce of your ass against his hips.

And when you say, “Do it, Jungkook—cum all over it,” in that breathy little voice?

He’s a fucking goner.

He’s thrusting into you hard—deep and heavy, hips slapping against your ass with every stroke, greedy hands keeping you exactly where he wants you. You’re whining, moaning, every sound caught between his name and broken curses.

You’re expecting him to say something filthy. Something sexy. He always does.

But instead—

“I wish,” he pants, breath hot against your shoulder, “we could do doggy and missionary at the same time.”

You blink. “What?”

“I’m serious,” he groans, thrust stuttering a little. “Like—if I could see your face and your tits and your ass at the same time? I don’t think I’d last, baby. I’d probably cum in, like, five seconds tops.”

You freeze for a second. He sounds genuinely mournful about it. Like it’s his greatest sexual tragedy.

And then—god, the image—you burst out laughing. Full-body shaking kind of laughter, muffled into your arm, your stomach tightening and your pussy clenching hard around him as you try to breathe through it.

And Jungkook?

Jungkook chokes. “Fuck—!”

You feel it before you hear it—the way his hips stutter, the low moan he tries (and fails) to swallow. You clench again by accident, and he gasps, pulling out at the very last second and barely managing to finish on your ass.

Barely.

You look over your shoulder, still giggling like an idiot.

He’s standing there, blinking down at you, looking like he’s just been personally wronged. “There’s not even that much,” he pouts, rubbing his thumb through the mess he managed to make. “That wasn’t fair. You cheated.”

You’re breathless from laughing, face smushed into the couch cushion. “I cheated?”

“You clenched. On purpose.”

“I was laughing!”

“Exactly!” He grumbles, smearing his cum across your skin anyway, palm wide and lazy over the swell of your ass like it’s his personal playground.

You hum, still giggling. “Come on, Kook. Make me cum.”

His complaints die immediately.

Gone. Buried. Forgotten.

His face is between your cheeks in a second—mumbling something that sounds like “not even mad anymore,” while his tongue drags through your folds with reverence, hands keeping you spread and trembling.

And you just grin, melting into the cushions, eyes fluttering closed while he eats like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

Because, well. It kinda is.

Your back arches against the sheets, hands tangled in his hair, tugging without direction—just needing something to hold onto.

“Oh—fuck, Jungkook—fuck,” you whimper, eyes fluttering, thighs twitching. “Thought—thought you were a tits guy.”

His eyes flash up at you. He doesn’t stop. Not even a little. Just lifts his head barely enough to say, with his mouth still shining and open, “Say it again.”

You bite your lip, gasping through a moan. “Thought you were a—tits guy…”

He groans. Visibly. Like the sound rocks through his whole chest.

“Baby,” he says, voice low, dark, wrecked. “I’m both.”

He kisses your clit once, slow and soft, then moves down again, mouthing messily at your folds.

“But this ass?” He grumbles into you, nosing lower just to prove his point. “This ass has been fucking killing me lately.”

Your breath stutters out of your lungs, a high whine in your throat. You squirm, reaching down blindly until you find his hands, and guide them up—pressing them against your chest, your voice all whimpery and slurred when you pout, “But you’re leaving them out…”

He melts.

Like, literally. His whole body goes soft and gooey for a second, his hands squeezing gently over your tits like he’s petting something delicate and breakable, his thumbs brushing lazy circles over your nipples.

“Cute,” he mutters, voice muffled as he dives back down between your thighs. “You’re so fucking cute, baby.”

You whimper.

He moans.

“You don’t believe me?” he murmurs, breath warm and wicked as it fans across your inner thigh. “Think I’m lying when I say I’m both?”

You can’t even form words—you just stare down at him, dazed and breathless, lips parted, body trembling.

“I’ll prove it.”

And then he does.

He kisses down your stomach, slow and sticky and worshipful, one hand staying high to cup your tits—thumb swiping over your nipple, squeezing gently like it grounds him. The other slides under your thigh, spreading you open wider than you thought possible.

And then—he’s everywhere.

Like literally.

Nose pressed flush to your clit, nuzzling against it like it’s his fucking home. Tongue dipping lower, deeper, licking into your ass without a hint of shame. And all the while—his hands never leave your chest. He’s palming you, groping you, kneading you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted and he’s been starved.

It’s obscene. It’s overwhelming. It’s all-consuming.

You cry out, loud and broken, as your hips jerk and your hands claw at his hair.

“Jungkook—fuck, fuck—” your voice is high and unraveling, thighs shaking around his head as your orgasm punches through you like lightning. “I—I can’t—oh my god—”

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t come up for air. His nose still nudging your clit, tongue still buried inside your ass, hands full of tits like he’s living out the fantasy he once only joked about.

Missionary and doggy. At the same time.

Not quite, but close.

And you’re the only one laughing. A choked, dazed giggle slips from your throat even as you’re trembling, and the moment your body pulses again around his face—he groans.

Loud. Deep.

You cry out as you come, high and broken, hips twitching, hands fisting the sheets as your body pulses and clenches and pours out against his mouth.

And he—he licks it up like he’s starving.

Like it’s dessert. Like it’s devotion.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, half-laughing, half-crying, overstimulated and twitchy. “Jungkook—”

But he doesn’t stop.

You’re still coming down and he’s still between your legs, mouth still dragging along you like he could live there, like he wants to live there.

You have to physically pull at his shoulders, tugging him up, shaking your head as you whimper, “Stop, stop—baby, please—”

And then he’s crawling up your body, face wrecked, lips wet, chest heaving, and lifting you into his lap like he didn’t just destroy you. You’re a mess of limp limbs and overstimulated nerves, curling into him with a ragged breath and wide eyes.

You bury your face in his neck, trembling and wrecked, and mumble into his skin, “You’re insane.”

He grins—unrepentant and breathless. “And you’re cute.”

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happilyhertale · 1 year ago

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My dragoness – Daemon Targaryen x fem!niece!reader

Summary: Weeks have passed since the announcement of your betrothal to your Uncle Daemon. Since then, hardly a night has gone by without Daemon visiting you - without disregarding your wish not to take the final step yet. But tonight, on your wedding night, you will finally be fully his.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!niece!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Fingering, sex (p in v), breeding kink, size kink, loss of virginity

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

This is another part of my Shared Future series.

x3 When @targaryen-dynasty asked me if I would like to participate in celebrating her 3K follower milestone, of course I agreed x3

Some have asked for another part for the Shared Future series, which is why I'm celebrating Laura's milestone with this story.

I hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 2.5 k

Other stories of mine

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Your eyes are closed and your shaky breath echoes in the chambers. The rooms that you will share with your husband from now on.

The ceremony seems only distant in your memory and now so surreal as you lie here on this bed. How all eyes were on you when your eyes only looked into your uncle's. How you couldn't suppress a grin when you recognised the slightest smile around his lips. How he gently cupped your cheek with his rough hand before enveloping your lips with his…

"Hey... open your eyes," you hear Daemon say - almost softly.

You obey him and your eyes slowly open. The scenery shoots in on you as you lie on the bed in just your nightgown, your husband standing in front of the bed, looking at you, slowly opening his shirt.

"That's better," he says gently and smiles at you.

You don't know why you're so nervous. He's seen you naked countless times, driven you to ecstasy with his touch. But this time it's different, it's your wedding night.

He slowly approaches you as he slowly opens his trousers. Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your nightgown as you try to breathe more calmly. Without looking at him, you hear his trousers slide down.

Daemon's eyes linger on you. He takes in every nervous twitch and quickened breath and he moves closer.

"There's no need to be nervous. I've seen every inch of you, explored every curve, and tasted your sweet surrender. Tonight, we seal our union, and I will show you just how much you belong to me," he purrs, his voice low and seductive, "It will be special," his soft voice sounds and you hear the words you whispered to him countless nights ago.

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel a mix of anticipation and excitement bubbling within you. You know that Daemon is a man of passion and intensity, and tonight, he intends to leave his mark on you in more ways than one.

Daemon's eyes flicker with a mixture of amusement and possessiveness as he watches you fidget and nervously avoid his gaze.

He reaches out, his hand gently caressing your cheek before trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His touch is both tender and possessive, a contrast that only adds to the intensity of the moment. His fingers curl around the hem of your nightgown, slowly lifting it up, revealing your body to him in all its vulnerability.

You feel the mattress give way as Daemon kneels on the bed. You look up and your purple Targaryen eyes meet. A gasp leaves your lips as his hand brushes across your thigh, gently grasping the underside of it and spreading your thighs slightly - his rough hand, a stark contrast to your soft skin. His other hand slides to your face, his index finger and thumb cupping your chin, lifting your head slightly.

"Look at me... focus on me..." he whispers and you nod slightly as you look into his eyes. Carefully, he pushes your legs apart as he kneels between them. His lips glide over your cheek, over your neck, while his hand slides further up your thigh.

Your eyes flutter shut as you concentrate fully on his touch. His warm breath glides over your skin as his lips caress you. The sweetest moan escapes your lips as his fingers grip your inner thigh.

"That's my girl... concentrate on my touch..." he whispers against your skin. You nod slightly again and gasp as his fingers cup your folds - you'll never get tired of this feeling. Slowly, his fingers move, smearing the wetness along your folds. His fingers find your sensitive bud, light circular movements follow and as if of their own accord your hips move to follow their movement.

Daemon follows your movements, sliding his fingers to your soaked opening, applying light pressure. His fingertips are literally sucked in and a mewling sound comes from your lips. You exhale heavily, his fingers thrust deeper, your eyes still closed.

Daemon's lips curl into a smug smile as he watches your reactions, relishing in the way you respond to his touch. He takes pleasure in knowing that he can easily bring you to the edge with just his fingers alone.

His fingers continue their exploration, sliding in and out of your wetness, gradually increasing the depth and pace of his thrusts. He watches as your hips buck against his hand, seeking more of the pleasure he's giving you.

"You're so wet... I don't even really need to work to get inside you," Daemon murmurs and you blush slightly, but your moans don't let up.

"Open your eyes" he whispers, "I want you to watch as I prepare you for me. See how wet and ready you are for my cock."

As you obey again, your eyes meeting his, Daemon's fingers quicken their pace, delving deeper into your core. He revels in the way your breath hitches, your body trembling with anticipation.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You're ready for me, aren't you? You want my cock inside you, filling you completely."

You blush even more - you know that Daemon loves to fill your mind with filthy words. Even if they have the desired effect on you, you can't help but blush.

But suddenly you feel him pull his fingers out of you and a soft whimper leaves you. You feel your nerves again as you look down and see him pulling down his undergarments. You've seen his manhood many times before, on the nights he's visited you - but this is different.

His length is released and you gasp slightly - it's never seemed so big to you, so thick. His hand slides along his throbbing length and you hear him grunt slightly.

"Daemon... this... this won't fit..." you suddenly whisper nervously and your hand slides to his arm.

Daemon smiles, still pumping his hardness.

"Hey... look at me," he whispers again and you look up. But then he kisses you, wrapping his lips around yours, swallowing your doubts.

The kiss is filled with a hunger that ignites a fire deep within you. His hand roams your body, claiming every inch, as if marking you as his territory. The intensity of his touch, the way he dominates your senses, leaves you breathless and wanting more.

"It will fit... we will make it fit... It will hurt at first, but the reward will be all the better," he whispers against your lips. You can't help but nod as he slides the tip of his hardness through your folds.

Your eyes flutter shut and you inhale sharply. Your fingers dig into his skin as his length presses against your pearl. Again your hips move towards him, seeking more of that touch.

Daemon looks down, between your bodies, watching closely as your wetness and his precum mingle. His growl echoes through the chambers. You concentrate fully on the sensation as he guides its length to your entrance.

Slowly he pushes forward and you feel the pressure as his manhood tries to penetrate you. A slight whimper leaves you as your heat envelops his tip. He growls slightly, senses your tightness and starts to move slowly.

"You're doing great..." he whispers in your ear, gently kissing your cheek as he pushes further. You feel the pressure, biting your lip as he impales you on his hot length. The feeling of him stretching you, filling you, is overwhelming. Your walls clench around him, trying to accommodate to his size. Daemon's pace is slow and deliberate, relishing in the tightness and warmth of your core.

But Daemon still feels a lot of resistance, he's nowhere near all the way in yet.

"Love... it's going to hurt for a moment now... but it has to be," he whispers and your eyes open again, looking at him. You whimper, but you nod slightly. He leans his forehead against yours, lets his nose slide gently along yours before kissing you softly again. His rhythmic movements don't let up as his tongue searches for yours and you moan slightly.

When suddenly he thrusts and you cry out as the sharp pain runs through your abdomen. He swallows your cry, his hand on your hip as his thick length works you open. "Uncle Daemon..." you whimper into his mouth as he slides in and out.

"I know..." he whispers, but he keeps moving. The pain slowly subsides. Your cunt, clenching around his cock in protest, slowly gives way. He feels the fluttering of your walls and closes his eyes briefly.

"Gods you feel so good," he growls. Slight mewling sounds leave your lips as your hips begin to move with him. He smiles at you, "That's my girl," he whispers a little breathlessly as his hips move faster. He can feel you soaking his cock, your pleasure increasing, and it spurs him on.

His thrusts get harder as he tries to bury himself completely inside you. He revels in the feeling of your tightness around him, the way you yield to his every thrust. Moans escape you now as your hands grip his upper arms. His hand still on your hip, holding you in place.

He watches your face, observing every flicker of pleasure that crosses your features. His grip tightens on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, marking you as his.

"You're so tight, so wet," his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and hunger. "You were made for me... Made to be filled by me," he grunts as he feels the tight grip of your cunt.

You are completely overwhelmed by the sensation as your cunt is fully stretched. You feel his balls slapping against you with every thrust and you whimper. His grunts echo through your chambers as he feels the continuous spasming of your wet walls. His eyes drift down again, seeing his glistening length disappear into your perfect womanhood again and again - the moment he's been waiting for so long, finally fulfilled.

He looks at your face again, sensing your impending climax - your eyes closed, your lips slightly parted as you try to follow his movements. Your noises a mixture of moans and whimpers. His hand slides to your abdomen, pressing lightly against it. He wants to feel his hot length sliding into you, bringing you to climax.

His thumb begins to tease your bud as he thrusts harder and faster into you. You cry out slightly, but you can feel the pressure in your abdomen. Your fingernails dig deeper into his skin as he pumps in and out, his thumb rubbing faster.

"Come for me... Soak my cock, suck up my seed..." he growls in your ear and you moan again. You open your eyes and look into his - blown wide with lust.

As your climax approaches, Daemon's pace quickens, his thrusts growing more powerful. He can feel the walls of your core tightening around him, signaling your imminent release.

With one final powerful thrust, he plunges deep within you, his cock pulsating as he finds his own release. The sensation of him emptying himself inside you pushes you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You moan out, your walls milk his cock and he grunts loudly. He watches your face contort with pleasure as moan after moan leaves your lips while your warm walls spasm around him. He's never seen anything so perfect - you're finally his.

He leans down, kisses you, swallows your moans of pleasure. His hips move more slowly as you come sliding back to reality from the veil of lust.

When his movements slow down completely, he releases the kiss. You can still feel him inside you, his nose slides gently along yours, you see him smile slightly.

"Are you all right?" he whispers a little breathlessly. You just nod and a breathless "Okay," leaves his lips. You whimper slightly in protest as he slowly pulls out of you. His length glistening with a mixture of your fluids. He watches you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and satisfaction, before leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

In this moment, there is no one else but the two of you, lost in the aftermath of your shared passion. Your bodies are entwined, your souls connected in a way that words cannot describe.

Your heavy breathing echoes in your chambers as he slowly releases the kiss, his gaze travelling down your body as he leans back.

His gaze is fixed on your womanhood and you feel something unfamiliar dripping out of you. Your hand instinctively wants to slide between your legs, but you only notice a slight shake of his head before he stops your hand. His other hand slides to your folds and slowly he pushes his fingers inside you, but you are overstimulated, your hips jerk back slightly.

"Don't," he whispers, "My seed must stay inside you.... I want a perfect heir to grow inside you"

You blush slightly, but his fingers slowly slide inside you, pushing the seed deeper inside you. Your eyes flutter shut slightly as you surrender to this feeling.

Daemon's eyes darken with possessiveness as he watches your reactions, his fingers still buried deep inside you. He can feel the wetness and warmth around his digits, evidence of the pleasure he has brought you. The thought of his seed filling you, the possibility of creating an heir, sends a surge of pride through him.

His thumb brushes against your sensitive pearl, eliciting a shudder from your body. He can sense your sensitivity, the overstimulation that threatens to overwhelm you. But he doesn't stop, his fingers continuing their relentless assault on your pleasure.

"You're mine… My dragoness" he murmurs, his voice low and almost commanding. "And I will fill you with my seed until you bear me a child. You will be the mother of my heir“

Daemon watches you, his fingers still buried deep inside you. His fingers move faster, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. He can feel the tension building within you, your body on the precipice of another climax. He wants to take you there, to see you come undone in his arms once more.

As the waves of pleasure begin to build once again, you can feel his fingers curling inside you, hitting that sweet spot that sends sparks of ecstasy coursing through your body. It's almost too much to bear, the pleasure threatening to consume you.

And as your moans fill the air, your body convulsing around his fingers, he knows he has succeeded. He watches with satisfaction as your pleasure washes over you, your walls clenching around his fingers. In his mind, your precious womb sucks up his seed with every contraction.

Finally he slowly pulls his fingers out of you – a mixture of his seed and your arousal covers his fingers. He smiles and collapses next to you on the bed, his breathing still heavy and laboured.

He looks at you, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. You smile almost shyly before his arm wraps around your middle and pulls you closer. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling your scent. His fingers glide gently over your abdomen as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear - your heavy breathing and light giggles fill the air.

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 5 months ago

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An Illness of a Different Kind

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous (x3) and @aestheticdaisies

Synopsis: you (5) get sick, but you don’t want to tell your brothers because of something they did to you.

Warnings: hurt feelings, illness, throwing up.

For you, the morning began as any other. You’d wandered out of your room the minute you woke up, and went to the kitchen in search of your brothers.

You found Dean sitting at the counter, and wasted no time in toddling over to him and demanding to be picked up. Being only 5, you took no notice of the dark circles under his eyes or the fierceness in his gaze. But you did see the mark on his arm that hadn’t been there before.

You grabbed his arm and pulled it to you, running your fingers over the strange symbol.

“Somebody hurted you?” You asked him—you’d seen many scars in your short life, and a scar was the closest thing you’d seen to the Mark of Cain.

“No,” Dean answered gruffly, yanking his sleeve down. With the mark had come a strangely powerful anger that kept him awake, and he found it growing when you touched the mark, along with a pain in his arm that pulsed and expanded and made him want to snap.

“What happened?” You asked, and Dean softened when you blinked up at him innocently.

“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted.

You obeyed, your mind instantly finding something else to focus on.

“De, I’m hungry.”

Dean barely bit back a snarky remark, reminding himself that you were only five, and it was his job to get you fed.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, standing up and setting you down in his seat before turning to the fridge. “Want some eggs?”

“No,” you argued. “I want Fruit Loops.”

Dean rolled his eyes, setting the egg carton back down and snatching the milk. “Fine,” he repeated.

“You’re grumpy,” you noted simply.

“What’d you say to me?” Dean snapped, turning on his heel to glare at you. You were taken aback, and your mouth slammed shut as you shrunk in your chair. “That’s what I thought,” Dean huffed, tossing a bowl down in front of you and filling it with cereal. He poured the milk in and shoved the bowl closer to you.

With shaky fingers, you picked up the spoon he offered and swallowed down a mouthful of cereal. Dean wasn’t watching anymore, so he didn’t pick up on the way you cringed. He did see how you pushed the bowl away, though. His arm pulsed in pain, and he gritted his teeth as he spoke to you.

“What’s wrong now?”

“I don’t like it,” you whined. “It tastes bad.”

“Of course,” Dean scoffed. “You know, can’t anything just be easy with you?” He grabbed your bowl, throwing it into the sink; except he threw it much harder than he meant to, and the glass bowl smashed against the wall above the sink. But Dean didn’t even flinch as shattered glass and spilled milk fell to the floor, but you were shaking in your seat as he turned his anger back to you. “Can’t you ever just take what I give you and be grateful? Can’t you ever just stop whining and shut up?!”

You jumped down off your stool and ran for the door, and Dean stiffened in surprise. His anger was fading almost as fast as it had sprung up, the pain in his arm weakening. He had never yelled at you like that, especially not over something so stupid.

“What’s with the mess?” Sam’s sudden presence in the kitchen snapped Dean out of his stupor.

“I…dropped a bowl,” Dean mumbled.

Sam hummed. “I’m gonna take Y/N to school,” he announced, grabbing an apple out of the fridge and moving to put the milk away before stopping. “And I’ll stop at the store on the way home,” he added, tossing the milk in the trash can and heading for the door, adding over his shoulder—“the milk’s expired.”

…

Dean stewed in his room all day, considering the events of the morning. He’d always struggled with his anger, but it had never taken control of him like that—especially not in front of you. This mark on his arm would only get worse, so he had to take control of it.

If he could snap like that over some milk—

How much control did Cain’s Mark have over him?

“Hey.” Sam knocked at Dean’s semi-open door to announce his presence. “You find anything else out about Abaddon?”

Dean closed his laptop—he hadn’t really been looking at it anyway.

“Not yet,” Dean admitted. “You picked up Y/N from school already?”

“Yeah, and I wanted to talk to you about that. I got an email from one of her classmate’s mom. Her kid is sick, and she thinks there’s something going around. Y/N always seems to catch these things when they go around, so I want to watch her to see if she starts getting sick.”

Dean hummed in agreement, but when Sam started to leave Dean stopped him.

“Wait, I…I don’t know if you want me hanging around her much.”

Sam was immediately suspicious. “Why? What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean insisted. “The mark is dangerous, and I want to keep her away from it.”

“She lives here, Dean,” Sam argued. “And you’re her big brother. We can’t just keep her away from you.” He huffed. “Is that why she was so quiet this morning? Dean, you can’t run from this, you gotta deal with it.”

Dean gritted his teeth as his arm pulsed in pain, and he didn’t respond to his brother for a long moment.

“Fine,” he decided. “But if I start getting worse ‘cause of this thing, then we go back to my plan and you keep her away from me.”

Sam gave his brother a sharp nod, and Dean reluctantly stood and went to check on you.

…

You were laying on your bed—unusual for so early in the afternoon—with your back to Dean when he knocked and entered your room.

“Hey kid,” he greeted, and he could swear he heard your breath catch. “Takin a nap?”

You sidestepped his question, sitting up. “Do you need something?” You asked. “I can get up.”

Dean swallowed. He couldn’t do this—let you worry so much about pleasing him; you were only 5. He couldn’t let you turn into him.

“No, no it’s ok,” he assured you. “How are you feeling?” Pain shot into Dean’s arm, and he felt his impatience growing, but he tamped it down and focused on you.

“I’m fine.” You couldn’t meet his eye, a sure sign that you were lying.

“Are you getting sick?” He asked, pushing your answer—your face was pale, and he didn’t believe you.

“I’m fine,” you repeated with a sniffle. Before Dean could challenge you, you hopped off your bed and went to your desk. “I gotta do homework with Sammy,” you mumbled, picking up your addition workbook and rushing out of the room.

Dean rubbed at his arm, biting back a huff of annoyance. Getting you to talk to him now would be harder than he thought.

…

Dean was halfway down the hallway when he caught up to you—you were doubled over, whatever you’d had for lunch no longer in your stomach.

“Whoa whoa, hey—“ Dean rushed you to, and it took much more concentration than it should have for him to be gentle when he pulled your hair away from your face and held it back.

“I’m sorry.” When you finally stopped, tears streaming down your face, those were the first words you said.

“Don’t be sorry,” he soothed.

“What’s going on?” Sam stepped into the hallway then stopped in his tracks.

“Can you clean up?” Dean asked as he lifted you into his arms. “I’ve got her.”

“You sure?” Sam looked from you to Dean, and Dean again had to push down an unwarranted anger.

“I’ve got her,” he repeated, and without another word he turned and carried you to your bathroom. “I’m gonna get you some clean clothes, you brush your teeth, ok?”

You obeyed without comment, and soon enough you were cleaned up and resting in your bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t feel good?” Dean asked.

You fiddled with your sheets while you answered, “I didn’t wanna be whiny.”

Dean’s own words flashed in his mind, and he cringed.

“Kiddo, I didn’t mean to yell at you this morning. If you’re sick, you gotta tell me, ok?”

“Why were you so angry?” You sniffled, your eyes once again brimming with tears.

Dean sighed, searching for the right way to answer you. Eventually, he decided on the truth—you deserved that.

“See this mark?” He held out his arm to you. “It’s magic. It makes me stronger—but sometimes it makes me angry, too.”

“Can you make it go away?” You asked.

“I…don’t know,” Dean answered honestly. “But I’m gonna try hard to not let it make me mean, ok? So long as you try really hard to always tell me how you’re feeling.”

“Ok,” you agreed. “De? I feel sick.”

Dean but back a smile, nodding.

“Ok, thanks for telling me. What hurts, kiddo?”

“My tummy,” you said. “And I’m sleepy.”

“Ok, yeah. I’m gonna get you some water, and I want you to take a nap, ok?”

“But I don’t want to, my tummy hurts too much.” The tears were falling now, and Dean had to bite back half a dozen angry responses that came far too quickly to his mind.

“Just try, ok? Try for me kid.”

“I don’t want to.” You were nearly sobbing now, and Dean had to clench his fist under your blanket to keep himself in check.

She’s just grumpy because she’s in pain, he told himself. It’s not her fault.

Despite this, Dean felt his anger continue to grow—he had to get out of this room.

“I’m gonna go get Sam,” he told you, rushing out of the room before you could protest.

Dean took slow, measured breaths, trying to force his anger down.

“She ok?” Sam’s voice set Dean’s teeth on edge, and again he found himself biting back harsh words.

“Sick,” Dean said. “She’s sick. I can’t get her to sleep, can you…”

Sam recognized Dean’s stiff stance and clenched fists immediately, and took over.

“I’ve got her,” Sam assured him. “Don’t worry about it.”

…

“Don’t worry about it” didn’t last long, but your illness did. Long after the sickness passed in your K5 class, you were still holed up in your room, not able to keep down anything but broth and water—if Sam fed it to you slowly enough.

He took you to the doctor half a a dozen times over the next month, but it didn’t help; no one knew what was wrong. Sam felt like he was being pulled apart at the edges, between trying to save Dean from the Mark and trying to save you from your illness, all while having to deal with your tantrums and Dean’s outbursts, neither of which he could blame on the two of you—a five year old in pain is going to cry, and a man with the Mark of Cain is going to have anger issues.

Sam just had to be on the receiving end of both.

By the end of the second month, Sam was desperate. Cas and Rowena had tried a million different ways to heal you, but nothing worked. He’d gone through every lore book, but couldn’t find a way to get rid of the Mark of Cain.

He just couldn’t win.

Especially now, with you crying on the couch and Dean was arguing with a silent Cas.

As your cries grew louder and Dean’s anger became more potent, Sam physically felt his final nerve snap.

“Would both of you shut up?!” He demanded. The room became deadly silent. “I can’t take it anymore! The two of you are going to kill me at this rate! All I need is a single moment of peace, ok?!”

The simple outburst was followed by a dispersion of the anger in Sam’s chest—he hadn’t screamed at anyone like that since his father was alive.

The moment was followed by a deep shame when you jumped up off the couch and ran for your room—the most you’d moved in weeks, and it was to escape his anger.

Dean didn’t seem to know what to do; it was the first time in weeks that he wasn’t the angriest person in the room.

“I’m so—I’m sorry.” Sam swallowed. “I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Dean insisted; he understood better than anyone the need to get out your anger. “But you might wanna go tell that to Y/N.”

…

Sam’s heart dropped at the sound of your sobs as he slipped into your room.

“Hey kiddo,” he greeted, and he cringed when your body stiffened on your bed.

“Did I do something bad?” You whimpered, and Sam swore his heart broke.

“No, no sweetheart.” Sam sat on the edge of your bed, giving you a little space if you wanted it. “I just got angry.”

“Did you get Dean’s mean mark?”

“No.” Sam smiled faintly. “I just get mad sometimes.” Sam was relieved when you found your way into his lap—you weren’t upset.

“But you don’t yell,” you said. “And I didn’t like it.”

“I know.” Sam sighed. “I’m sorry.” He kissed your head, cradling you in his lap. “You’ve got a doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” he said absently. “Maybe they can finally get you something to make you feel better. That’d be nice, yeah?” He looked down when he didn’t hear a response from you.

You were fast asleep.

…

Sam was having a great day. Dean had slept for a ridiculously long time (like 8 hours) last night, and his mood had—somewhat—improved. And whatever ridiculous cocktail of half a dozen medications the doctor had put you on was finally working—you’d eaten pizza last night, and you were in front of Sam demolishing a giant waffle now for breakfast.

“You sure you’re feeling better, kid?” Dean asked for the millionth time. You nodded, swallowing down the last bites of your waffle before jumping up on your chair and then into Dean’s arms. Sam noticed that you were getting syrup all over Dean, who was being surprisingly patient with you as he cleaned you up.

“Now we just gotta make you feel better,” you insisted, poking at Dean’s Mark.

“Yeah.” Dean cringed. “I’m sure we will.”

Sam knew that Dean didn’t mean it—they knew nothing more about the Mark then they did two months ago—but the fact that he was keeping a brave face for you was good; it was like the old Dean.

Sometimes Sam wasn’t so sure about his family—the one that felt like it was held together with duct tape and safety pins—but he knew that as long as they held onto each other, they’d turn out ok.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

#the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester #supernatural dean #sam winchester #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x reader #winchesters x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x little sister #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester spn #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x you #spn sam winchester #moc!dean

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pr1ncemax · 1 year ago

Text

i think the thing thats getting me most about the watcher situation is that the worth it style videos aren't even the issue ??? like. Spending 1,000$ on food for content isn't the issue

the issue is paying 13+ staff members on a fucking lets play video, or a video of them just getting drunk in their own backyard.

example, their backrooms video game lets play Video which has 450K views and 21K likes

And I know some of these are repeat staff with more than one role but they have listed out:

HOSTED BY x2

DIRECTOR x1

PRODUCER x1

Tech Director x1

EDITOR x1

POST PRODUCTION SUPERVISOR x 1

PRODUCTION COORDINATOR x1

GAFFER x1

CAMERA OPERATOR x1

SOUND MIXER x1

PA x1

ASSISTANT EDITORx 1

LOGO DESIGNER x1

HEAD OF DEVELOPMENTx 1

HEAD OF PRODUCTION x1

HEAD OF POST PRODUCTION x1

EXECUTIVE PRODUCERS x3

that's at least 20 roles. Roughly, 10-12 people. They're paying 10-12 people for a LET'S PLAY VIDEO.

Markiplier, on his most recent let's play video, has 1.5 MILLION views, and 124K likes.

He has himself, and three editors. That's it. FOUR people.

I don't think you need 10+ people for a fucking let's play video watcher. I really don't think you do.

And clearly, their idea of 'quality' isn't what people flock too. Because Markiplier is literally sitting in a room with a facecam. And yet, watcher only has 45% of the views that mark does.

There's a reason.

People don't care about quality, they care about personality. If you think you need more money to create this content, then fix what you're doing, don't go panhandling from your fans? Look at other content creators to see what they do. There's a reason Mythical is doing as well as they are, there's a reason college humor got to the point of dropout after years. The method forward is not alienation or guilt-tripping of what 'real' fans do. The method forward is figuring out something more sustainable. Getting a quick and bigger influx of cash isn't sustainable, without the content and game plan to back it up.

#just sayin #watcher

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ghostlynightpanda · 7 days ago

Note

Hellloooooo!!! X3

I hope you’re having a lovely morning, evening, afternoon or night! I came with a simple request. (I apologize in advance if it’s too long)

Pretty much, AIB characters reacting to a plus sized reader. Like just a chunky, big belly, thicc thighs, stretch marks and all the pretty features that everyone judges the reader for.

To add onto that, The reader isn’t too confident in herself and it doesn’t help when people (The people at the beach or some asshole in a game) insults the reader. Even joking around saying how she is going to eat all the food supply, doubt that she would survive any longer or anything that is just harsh. I just need to see how the AIB Characters would not only defend them but show the reader that they are beautiful in their own way. So do as you will. You can do anything else otherwise, I don’t have any specifics.

Be sure to take your time and have a good day! X3

AIB Characters react to plus-sized Reader being Body-shamed

A/n: I added Arisu and Usagi to the stories because a few people messaged me saying they’d like to read more about them too. Also, please remember: everyone is beautiful, no matter their body type. Don’t let stupid comments from others get to you! <3

content/warnings: Ann, Kuina, Mira, Aguni, Niragi, Last Boss, Usagi, Arisu, plus-sized!reader, body shaming and bullying, cursing, - 7.822 words

Ann

The sun burned bright against the shimmering edge of the pool at The Beach, where laughter and splashes blurred with the murmurs of strategy and survival. You sat on one of the plastic lounge chairs in a borrowed towel, arms hugging your midsection out of instinct. Every movement you made felt watched, as if every jiggle, every roll, every stretch mark bore a neon sign reading: "Out of place."

You were used to it. The stares. The subtle glances. The not-so-subtle whispers.

"Better hide the rations," one of the guys joked nearby, nudging his friend with a crooked grin. "They might eat the whole supply tonight."

Laughter followed. Loud. Cruel.

You froze.

"Doubt they'd even survive the next game," someone else muttered. "Heart game? Please. They're heartburn waiting to happen."

You stared at the concrete, gripping the towel tighter. Words stuck in your throat like broken glass. You wanted to say something, to fight back, to prove them wrong, but those voices sounded too much like your own sometimes. Especially the one in your head that whispered, They're not wrong. You're too big. Too slow. Too much.

And that's when you felt her hand.

Callused fingers curled gently around yours. You didn't need to look up to know who it was. Ann.

She didn't raise her voice. She never did. But when she stood in front of you, cool eyes locking onto the group of assholes, the energy shifted like a ripple through the water.

"Say it again," she said flatly. Her voice was soft, but her stance was steel.

The jokers stilled. One of them scoffed, trying to play it cool.

"Come on, it was just a joke. We're all dying here anyway—"

"No." Ann cut in, taking a slow step forward. "You're dying for being an insecure piece of shit who thinks bullying is a personality trait."

They blinked, startled. She tilted her head slightly.

"You ever seen her in a Diamond game?" Ann asked, gesturing to you with her chin. "No? Of course not. Too busy flapping your mouth to notice someone who thinks before they move. They read people like a damn book. They're smart. They're capable. And when everyone else is panicking, they're the one staying calm."

Silence.

"And by the way," she added, her eyes like cold flame, "if any of you open your mouth about their body again, I will make you regret it. Not with fists. With facts." She paused. "Starting with how you're the ones who wouldn't last two minutes without hiding behind people like them."

No one said another word.

Ann turned back to you and extended her hand. Not rushed. Not pitying. Just hers, steady and real.

"Let's go," she said. "You don't owe them your time."

You took her hand.

The warmth of her touch stunned you more than anything. It wasn't just protective—it was tender. Like she saw you. Every soft curve, every imperfection, every dimple, every scar... and none of it seemed to repel her.

She walked with you to the quieter edge of the Beach, near the sea where the wind touched your skin in a way that made you feel less heavy. You sat together in the sand, legs touching. You hadn't realized your eyes were wet until she leaned in.

"I hate how you look at yourself," she said.

You blinked. "What?"

"You shrink," she said simply. "When you should be taking up space. You think your softness is weakness. That being big makes you less. But I don't see that."

Her gaze traveled over your body. Not with judgment, but with admiration. You expected her to stop at your arms or belly or thighs, but she didn't. She looked at you entirely.

"I see strength in you. The kind that doesn't scream for attention. The kind that survives. And you're beautiful," she added, softer now. "Not despite your size. With it. Because of it. Everything about you... it's all part of you. And I like all of it."

Your heart thudded.

"But people—"

"Are cowards," she cut in. "And shallow. And wrong."

You looked away. "Sometimes I think it's easier to believe them."

"I know," Ann said. "But I'll keep reminding you until you believe me instead."

She leaned in, pressing her forehead gently to yours.

"Your body is not a problem to be fixed. It's a home. And I'd stay in it with you, any day."

You couldn't speak. Not with how your throat closed up. But your hand reached for hers again, and this time you didn't hide your stomach when you shifted. You didn't cover your legs. You let her see you.

All of you.

And when she kissed you—slow, sure, her hand brushing your cheek like you were precious—you believed her.

Even if just for a moment, you believed that you were enough.

Kuina

The mirror in the corner of the room was cracked. It didn't matter. You didn't like looking in mirrors anyway.

The oversized shirt you were wearing stuck to your skin in the summer heat, clinging to your belly and thighs in all the places you didn't want attention. The world outside had become cruel enough, but somehow, the judgment from people at the Beach still cut deeper than bullets.

Earlier that day, during a meal by the pool, someone had said it again.

"You sure you want seconds? You're not in a calorie deficit crisis, you know."

Laughter.

A flash of eyes dragging down your body like you were less human, more spectacle. You'd smiled. Brushed it off. Pretended it was fine. But that sick, familiar churn settled in your stomach afterward. Like shame. Like defeat.

You didn't cry then.

But now? Alone in your room, shadows stretching long across the walls, you sat on the edge of your mattress and let yourself unravel, just a little.

The door creaked open. You froze, wiping your face quickly.

"Hey," Kuina's voice came, soft and cautious. "Can I come in?"

You nodded, though you didn't look up.

She crossed the room with that casual grace of hers, crouching in front of you. She wore her bikini with pride. As she should. Long legs, toned stomach, not an ounce of fat to be seen. She was beautiful. Always.

"You left dinner early," she said.

"Wasn't hungry."

Kuina tilted her head. "You always have room for miso soup."

You didn't answer.

She studied you for a moment. Then, gently, she reached out and rested her hand on your knee. "Who was it this time?" she asked.

Your throat closed up. You shook your head, avoiding to look her in the eyes. "Doesn't matter."

"Yeah, it does."

Silence. You didn't want to say it aloud, but it slipped out anyway. Quiet. Broken. "Everyone looks at me like I don't belong here."

Kuina's brows furrowed. She leaned in, still gentle, like you were something precious that might break if handled wrong.

"I see the way they stare," you continued, voice trembling. "Like I'm lazy. Like I don't deserve to survive. Like I'm just some fat burden who's going to slow them down."

Kuina's expression darkened—not at you, never at you, but at the people who made you feel that way. Her hand slid up your arm, warm and grounding.

"They don't get to decide your worth."

You looked at her, finally. "Then why does it hurt so much?"

Her gaze softened. "Because you're human. And you're used to this world trying to shrink you down to something it finds easier to swallow."

She sat beside you on the mattress, shoulder to shoulder.

"But they don't know you like I do," she said. "They don't know how you survived that Hearts game with no weapons. They don't know how you comforted that girl who was crying even when you were scared. They don't know the way your laugh makes things feel lighter, or how beautiful you are when you let yourself just be."

You scoffed. "Beautiful? That's a stretch."

Kuina turned toward you, expression firm. "No, it's not. You've got stretch marks, sure. But they're like tattoos that prove you've lived. You've grown. You've survived."

She reached for your hand and placed it gently on your own stomach.

"This? This isn't shameful. This is soft, yeah. But it's comfort. Warmth. A body that keeps you alive. A body I care about. A body I want."

You stared at her. "You… want this?"

"I want you," she said, voice unwavering. "Every dimple. Every roll. Every mark. I don't want some airbrushed version of you. I want the version who's real. Who feels everything deeply. Who still shows up even when the world tries to make them disappear."

Your breath caught. The room went still.

Then she smiled, small, sincere.

"And for the record," she added, brushing a thumb under your eye, "I'd knock out anyone who says otherwise."

That made you laugh. A quiet, shaky laugh that tasted like release.

She leaned in and kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then paused, giving you the choice.

When you tilted your head and met her lips, you felt something shift. Not just in your chest, but in your skin. Like for the first time in a long time, it wasn't something to hide, it was something that deserved to be held.

Later, as you lay together on the mattress, her arm draped over your soft belly and her fingers tracing the lines on your skin like a map, Kuina whispered:

"You don't have to change for this world. Let's change how it sees you instead."

And in that moment, maybe for the first time, you believed it was possible.

Mira

The rooftop was one of the only quiet places at the Beach. A slice of sky and silence above all the noise.

That's why you liked it. You could breathe here. You didn't have to worry about how many eyes were on you, or whether your body was taking up too much space on a sun chair, or whether someone would snicker if you reached for more food in the cafeteria.

Still, even here, the words from earlier clung to your skin like sweat.

"No offense, but this isn't exactly a cruise ship. We do have limited resources." "You sure you can keep up in a game? You're not exactly built for cardio."

Laughter.

Like your worth was measured in inches. Like your body was something to apologize for.

You hated how much it got to you. But it did. It always did.

You sat on the edge of the roof, looking out at the sunset, trying to think of anything else. That's when you heard her voice.

"Beautiful view."

You turned — Mira stood behind you, arms folded, fan clutched into one hand. She was always so… elegant. Everything about her radiated control. Even barefoot, she looked like she belonged on a throne.

You stiffened, unsure why she was talking to you. Executives didn't just wander up to random players. Least of all you.

"I didn't mean to take up space," you mumbled.

Mira tilted her head. "Why would you think you're taking up space?"

You swallowed. "Because… I kind of am."

She stepped closer, graceful as ever. "So is everyone else. That's what space is for."

Her tone wasn't cruel, but it cut through you. Not because it hurt, but because it felt like truth. She sat beside you, close enough that your thighs nearly touched.

"You seem to hide from people," she said, almost amused.

You gave a dry laugh. "They usually make me wish I could disappear, so… yeah. Hiding is easier."

"Why?" she asked, turning slightly to look at you. "Because you're soft? Bigger?"

The words hit harder coming from someone like her — so calm, so perceptive. But she didn't say it with judgment. It was… curiosity.

"Because people make it a joke," you admitted, quietly. "Like I'm always one breath away from being a punchline. I feel like when people see me, all they see is fat. Not a person. Just… too much."

Mira was silent for a long moment.

"And yet, here you are. Surviving. Watching the sunset. Thinking deeply. Most of the people here only think in panic."

You looked at her, surprised.

She smiled faintly. "Do you know how rare that is? To stay soft in a world like this?"

You blinked. "Soft isn't exactly valued here."

"Mm. Only by the wrong people." She leaned in, her voice dipping lower. "The ones who think being sharp means being cruel. That a strong body is always a thin one. But strength comes in many forms."

She reached out, slowly, and placed her hand over yours. Her fingers were delicate but firm.

"I've watched you. Quiet, observant. You don't scream for attention, but you notice everything. And you endure every sideways glance, every whispered comment, without lashing out."

You stared at her. "That's not strength. That's just… survival."

Mira's smile widened. "Isn't that what strength is? Surviving, even when the world tells you you're not meant to?"

You didn't know what to say. Your throat felt tight.

Then she leaned closer, until her lips brushed your ear. "Let them laugh. Let them stare. Their vision is limited. I've always had better sight."

Your heart stuttered.

"And what do you see?" you whispered.

She pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. "I see someone real. With a body that deserves touch, not ridicule. Someone who's endured so much and still sits here, beautiful in ways most people are too dull to notice."

Your chest ached with something warm. Something unfamiliar.

Then she rose, elegant as always, and extended her hand.

"Come. Walk with me."

You hesitated. "Why?"

"Because I don't think you've ever had someone look at you and not see a problem," she said. "It's time someone showed you, you're not one."

And when you took her hand, hesitant, unsure, she laced her fingers through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She didn't lead you into a spotlight. She walked beside you. As an equal.

And for the first time, maybe ever, you started to believe that your softness wasn't a flaw — it was something rare. Something strong. Something beautiful.

Because if someone like Mira could see it… maybe it had been there all along.

Aguni

The pool's surface was still, reflecting the faint shimmer of moonlight and distant stars. You sat on the edge, legs dangling above the water, trying to shake the weight of the day. The voices from earlier echoed in your mind. Not their exact words, but the sting of their judgment. The way they glanced at you, the way their laughter felt like it was aimed at your body, at your very presence.

You remembered how their eyes seemed to measure you, like you were a problem to be solved or a joke to be told. You tried to laugh it off, but inside, the ache settled deeper. It wasn't just what they said, it was what they implied: that you were too much, too slow, too big to survive here. That your body was a burden, something to be tolerated.

You pulled your knees closer, your fingers tracing the cold edge of the pool. The night was quiet except for the faint hum of distant conversations and the gentle ripple of water.

Then, from behind you, a calm voice broke through the silence.

"Who said it?" His voice cut through the night air, making you freeze. You'd barely ever talked to him, only once when you played a game together, the Seven of Diamonds.

Yet you didn't need to turn around to know who the voice belonged to.

"What?" you asked, confused and intimidated, turning around and looking up at Aguni with unsure eyes.

His sharp, unwavering gaze locked on yours.

"You came back different," he said, sitting down at the edge next to you. "Not hurt. Just… shrinking. Like you are trying to take up less space."

Your mouth felt dry. "It's nothing. Just… people being assholes."

"Say their names."

You hesitated. "Why?"

"Because I've heard enough to know when someone's talking out of their own insecurity. And I'm not gonna let that sit in your head like it belongs there."

His tone wasn't cruel. It was solid. Like a wall being built around you, not to trap you but to keep the world out.

Still, shame clung to you. "It's fine. I know I don't look like someone who belongs in survival games. I'm not lean. I'm not fast. And yeah… I'm bigger. It's not exactly a mystery."

Aguni stepped closer. His size made most people flinch, but you didn't. Not because you weren't nervous, but because there was no threat in him when he looked at you.

"I was built bigger too," he said quietly. "When I was a kid, I got called names. Tank. Ogre. Cow. People used to grab my arms just to joke about how thick they were, like I was too much to fit in a normal world."

You looked up at him, surprised.

"They thought I was slow. Dumb. Clumsy. No one saw what I could become. Just what I looked like."

His voice dipped, quieter now.

"They didn't laugh when I joined the military. When I earned every scar. When I outlasted them all."

Silence. The weight of that stayed heavy between you, but not in a crushing way. In a grounding way.

Aguni crossed his arms, his biceps flexing under his sweat-slicked skin.

"They don't see what I see in you."

Your breath caught. "What do you see?"

"Someone who shows up," he said, matter-of-fact. "Even when people tear you down. Someone who doesn't quit, even when they think you should. That kind of resilience? That's rare."

You swallowed hard. Your eyes burned.

"People think softness means weakness. But it doesn't. It just means you've got a body that holds more. More feeling. More depth. More history."

You let out a shaky breath. "So I'm just… supposed to ignore the stares? The jokes?"

Aguni stepped close enough for his presence to shield you from the world.

"No," he said. "You're supposed to outlast them. Like I did."

He reached out — slowly, giving you room — and touched your side, right where your shirt hugged your waist. His hand was warm, steady.

"I'd rather stand beside someone who's real than someone who hides behind a six-pack and fear."

You laughed, tearful but genuine.

Then, his voice softened, barely audible. "And for what it's worth… I wouldn't want less of you."

You froze. "You… wouldn't?"

He looked you dead in the eyes. "No. Not one inch."

And somehow, that hit harder than any insult ever could, because it was true. It wasn't laced with pity or sugar-coating. It was Aguni. Brutal honesty, forged into something gentle just for you.

And when he opened his arms, offering something wordless but full, you stepped into them.

And for the first time in days, you didn't feel too big.

You just felt safe.

Niragi

You weren't built for the Spades games. Not physically.

Every time the siren rang and the symbol of Spades lit up on a card, your stomach twisted with dread. You knew what the whispers said.

"They're gonna slow us down." "Wonder how they made it this far — sat on someone, maybe?"

Their laughter echoed even when you were alone.

You weren't weak. Hell no. You were one of the best Diamonds players at The Beach. Niragi himself had admitted it, grudgingly, but it happened. "They're smart. Cold and fast when it counts. I like that."

You remembered how he'd said it after you pulled a winning move that cost an arrogant player his shot at a game win. But it didn't matter. Not really. Not when people only saw your big belly, your soft arms, your thick thighs and stretch-marked hips. Not when they thought your fat meant you were less.

Then there was Niragi.

Untouchable. Dangerous. Beautiful in that knife's edge way, all fire and fury and cruel smirks. You had no idea why he didn't call you out like the others. Maybe he just didn't care. Maybe he was bored.

But it wasn't boredom the day everything cracked.

It was a supply run. Five of you. You, two random Beach members, a girl from the militants, and Niragi.

The moment you picked up a bottle of water and put it in your pack, one of the guys — some skinny kid with too much nerve and not enough brains — snorted behind you.

"Damn, save some for the rest of us. We trying to live past tomorrow, not feed a goddamn bear."

The girl snickered. "She probably ate her last partner. That's how she keeps surviving."

You froze, hands tightening around the strap of your pack. You didn't say anything. What could you say that wouldn't get turned into more mockery?

Then came Niragi's voice.

Lethal. Low.

"The fuck did you just say?"

You didn't turn. You felt it. That silence. That crackling heat he always brought with him before something or someone burned.

The guy laughed nervously. "C'mon man, we're just messing around. No harm."

"No harm?" Niragi stepped closer. You heard his boots crunch the rubble. "You talk like that again and I'll show you harm."

"Jesus, dude, calm—"

There was a gunshot.

You yelped and flinched, turning just in time to see Niragi's flare gun fired into the wall beside the guy's head. Smoke hissed from the burn.

"Next time," Niragi whispered, voice low enough to chill you. "It won't miss."

The guy scrambled back. The girl had gone pale.

You stared at Niragi, heart pounding.

He looked at you. Really looked. Not at your body. Not the way others did, mocking, condescending, scanning for flaws. He looked at you.

"You don't ever talk to them like that again," he said to the others, but his eyes never left yours.

Later, back at The Beach, you found yourself alone on the rooftop. The sun was setting, bleeding orange and red into the broken cityscape. You didn't hear Niragi until he dropped beside you, legs sprawled out, gun resting casually across his lap.

"You okay?" he asked, voice more quiet than usual.

You nodded. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit."

You swallowed.

"I'm used to it," you whispered. "I've always been… the fat one. In school. At work. Here, too. It doesn't matter how smart I am. How many games I win. They just see—"

"A target."

You blinked at him.

He was staring at the horizon, jaw clenched.

"That's what they saw when they looked at me. Back then. Just a weak little freak with fucked up teeth and bruises on his face. Someone to hurt."

You didn't know what to say.

"I got sick of it," he continued. "So I became the one they couldn't touch."

You were quiet for a moment.

"Why me?" you asked, voice small. "Why defend me?"

He looked at you then. Really looked.

"Because I see what they don't."

You stared at him.

"You're brilliant in games," he said, leaning closer. "Cold when it matters. Kind when it shouldn't. And strong. You carry more than they ever could."

He touched your thigh, not in a pervy way, just resting his hand there. Heavy. Grounding.

"And you're beautiful."

You blinked, scoffing. "Yeah, right."

"I don't joke," he said, serious now. "You think I'm the kind of guy who wastes time on people I don't want around?"

Your breath caught.

"You're not weak," he said softly. "You're fucking radiant. And if anyone tries to say otherwise — they answer to me."

From then on, the whispers died down.

Nobody dared to speak against you anymore. Not when Niragi hovered behind you in meetings. Not when his hand would linger on your lower back as you walked by. Not when you leaned against him after games, sweaty and exhausted, and he didn't flinch away. He pulled you closer.

Sometimes he'd catch you staring at yourself in broken mirrors, tugging at your shirt, hiding your belly.

And each time, he'd step behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, press his cheek against your soft shoulder, and whisper:

"They don't get to define you. Only you do. And I see someone fucking unforgettable."

Last Boss

The Beach wasn't paradise.

It was heat, sweat, suspicion. Eyes always watching. Voices always judging. Everyone trying to act like they weren't on the brink of losing their minds — or already had. You tried to keep your head down, to stay small even though you never could.

You were bigger than most, full-bodied in a way no one tried to hide their stares at. Not in this place.

The stretch of your skin, the round softness of your belly, the way your thighs touched when you walked. Here, those things were fuel. For whispers. For jokes. For cruelty.

Someone at the communal table once joked that you'd eat the food stores dry before the next game. Laughter followed like it was nothing.

Another guy laughed so hard he nearly spilled his water: "Can they even run? Bet their thighs start a fire when they move."

And it hurt, like everything else here. But you didn't fight back. You just turned away. You always did.

You'd retreat to quiet corners when you could, seeking silence, or pretending not to notice the mocking glances when shirts clung too tightly after a game or when you had to catch your breath faster than the others.

But he was always there — Last Boss.

Silent. Tattooed. An unspoken warning to anyone who crossed his path. They called him a psycho. A killer. But he wasn't cruel like the others. At least not to you.

You never spoke much. Not that you could, he barely spoke at all. But he watched. From the shadows. From the corner of rooms. From the edge of the games. You'd catch him staring sometimes. Not like the others. It wasn't disgust.

It was... attention. Still. Direct. Real. Like he saw you, and wasn't afraid of what he saw.

It wasn't until the 5 of Clubs game, a horrible, team-based death trap, that everything changed. A skinny man with sharp teeth and a sharper tongue was on your team. And he made sure to make his opinions loud.

"We don't need extra weight slowing us down."

He laughed right in your face, his voice echoing through the abandoned building.

"Hope you last more than ten minutes, fat-ass. I ain't dying for someone who can't fit through a fucking doorway."

You flinched. You wanted to cry, or scream. But you just stood there.

And then, movement. Fast. Blinding.

A flash of a sword.

And the guy was on his knees, bleeding.

Not dead, but silenced. Not from pain, but from shock.

Last Boss stood over him. Sword held low. Breathing slow.

"You talk again," he said, voice like gravel, "and I take your tongue."

The room was silent. Even the other players backed off.

Later that night, by the dim flicker of torches near the Beach's outer fence, you found yourself alone with him.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, sleeveless jacket open, tattoos swirling over lean, deadly muscle. You felt huge next to him. Like a planet orbiting something colder and stronger.

"I'm used to it," you muttered, arms around your waist. "People saying stuff."

He didn't respond.

"I know I'm not..." You swallowed. "Not built for this place."

Still nothing.

"I don't blame them."

Silence again. And then:

"You believe them?" His voice was quiet. Rough.

You looked up, blinking. "What?"

He turned to face you fully. His eyes were strange. Intense and wild, but not cruel. Never cruel.

"Aphrodite," he said, like it was some long-lost code. "The goddess."

You furrowed your brow. "Yeah?"

"People want to believe she was thin. A fantasy. Small. Fragile." His eyes moved over you, slowly, with weight. "That's not how she was. How I see her."

Your breath caught.

"She had hips. Thighs. A belly. Something to hold. Something real. That's beauty. Not skin over bone. You..."

He stepped closer.

"You have an Aphrodite body."

Your throat closed.

He reached out slowly, letting his hand rest at your waist. His thumb brushing the curve of your belly, your side, the places you always tried to hide. And there was no hesitation in him. No disgust. Just wanting.

"Something soft in a world this hard?" he murmured. "That's rare."

You couldn't breathe. You couldn't move.

"People mock what they fear," he added. "They fear what they can't break. And you? You've survived more than they know."

Your lip trembled.

"You're still here," he said. "Still standing. That makes you strong. That makes you more than beautiful."

You whispered, "You really think that?"

He nodded once, slow. And his forehead touched yours.

And for a moment, the world — the games, the death, the cruelty — faded.

You weren't too much.

You weren't a joke.

You were seen.

Held. Wanted. Revered.

Just like a goddess.

Chishiya

The Beach was a cage, but one made of people. It was impossible to hide from the eyes that judged, from the whispers that followed every step you took.

It didn't matter how many times you tried to remind yourself it didn't matter, that you'd been through worse, that you were tougher than they all thought.

It still hurt.

They called you "big," "slow," "lazy," "useless." You hated it. Every day felt like a reminder that you were something they tolerated only because they had no choice. You'd get by — by keeping your head low, hiding the parts of yourself you knew others saw as flaws.

But no matter how much you tried to shrink yourself, the comments still found a way to hit.

"You sure you can run with that belly?" a guy sneered, his voice loud enough for half the Beach to hear.

Another player snickered. "They'll eat us all out of house and home, won't they?"

"Good luck, fatty," someone else added, his voice dripping with mockery. "Maybe your thighs will catch fire from friction before the game even starts."

A chuckle from a nearby group, followed by a few more words that hit you like stones.

"They'll never make it past the next game. You see them? They can't even climb a wall properly."

Each word felt like a punch. Each laugh a slap in the face. You held your breath, willing yourself not to show how deeply it all hurt, but it was getting harder. You stood there, rooted in place, forcing yourself to ignore the cruel faces staring you down.

You couldn't escape. And you didn't have the strength to fight back.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him.

Chishiya.

He'd been sitting in the shade of the wooden deck, watching, as always, with that same cool, aloof expression. His silver hair hung just past his eyes, those cold, calculating eyes that seemed to see right through people. And he was still watching.

But today, something in the way he watched shifted.

The moment the words were spoken, the moment you felt yourself shrinking into the ground, Chishiya stood up. His movements were fluid, almost lazy, but there was something deliberate in the way he walked toward you. His gaze never left yours as he cut through the crowd like a sharp blade.

You tried to pull yourself together, but the tears stung, and your chest tightened. The last thing you wanted was anyone to see you break, especially not someone like Chishiya.

But as he got closer, you realized he wasn't just walking toward you, he was walking toward them.

The players, the cruel faces.

They fell silent the moment he approached, and there was a palpable shift in the air.

"What was that?" Chishiya's voice was as smooth as ever, but his tone carried a subtle weight that made the group hesitate. He tilted his head slightly, as though he wasn't sure whether they were mocking you or testing him.

The guy who had mocked you earlier flushed. "What's it to you, Chishiya? Just a joke."

"A joke?" Chishiya repeated, his voice never rising, but there was an edge there now. "So you make fun of someone because of their body? You think it's funny?"

There was a moment of awkward silence. No one seemed to know how to respond, and for the first time, you felt the balance of power shift. They were intimidated.

Not by you.

By him.

Chishiya looked back at you, his eyes unreadable, but there was something there. Something in the way he looked at you, not with pity, not with judgment, just... observation.

"You're wasting time." He said it as if he were bored, but there was no mistaking the way he stood between you and the others, a barrier of ice. "They're still here. Still alive. So what does that make you?"

The group shifted uncomfortably, one of the guys even backing away. They didn't know how to deal with this version of Chishiya. The one who wasn't just clever and calculating, but who had a sharp sense of right and wrong.

He turned back to you then, his eyes softening slightly.

"Don't listen to them," he said simply, his words cutting through the air with a surprising tenderness. "They're just mad they don't get it."

You didn't know how to respond. The sting of their words was still fresh, like an open wound, but Chishiya's presence was a kind of shield, one that made it feel like the world could just be a little bit more bearable.

"They're not worth your time," he added, in that same cool tone.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm used to it."

"Clearly," Chishiya replied, his voice lowering. "But you shouldn't be."

You couldn't help but glance down at yourself. Your rounded belly, the stretch marks you hated, the soft flesh that didn't belong in this world of sharp edges and survival instincts.

For a long moment, Chishiya didn't say anything. He just studied you, his eyes scanning you like he was trying to figure out a puzzle, but there was no judgment. Just that cold curiosity of someone who was used to seeing what others couldn't.

"Do you know why they do that?" he asked, his voice unusually soft now, like he was offering you something fragile.

You shook your head, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak.

"They do it because they're afraid of something they can't understand," he explained, his eyes drifting over you. "You're different. You're... something they can't figure out. And that scares them."

He stepped closer to you, his presence calming despite the intensity of his gaze.

"You're strong. Not because you look like them, but because you don't." He paused. "They're small. You're not. And that scares them."

You felt something in your chest loosen, just a little. Maybe it was the way he spoke. The way he never once pitied you, never once suggested you were anything less than strong, than capable.

Chishiya tilted his head, his eyes scanning the horizon like he was thinking something through, then turned back to you.

"The Queen doesn't win because she's the smallest," he said, almost casually. "She wins because she's the most adaptable. You've been underestimated your whole life. That's your advantage. Keep playing the game."

You blinked, taking a moment to process his words.

"Is that your way of saying I'm... beautiful?" you teased, a small, shy smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Chishiya met your gaze and gave you a brief, almost imperceptible smile in return.

"I'm not saying you're just pretty," he replied, his tone as dry as ever. "But I'm saying you're stronger than they'll ever understand. And that's far more useful."

The words were blunt, but there was no mistaking the weight they carried. In that moment, it felt like you weren't just another piece in the game anymore. You weren't just the joke.

You were someone.

Usagi

The game was over. You had survived.

That was supposed to mean something.

But as you walked beside Usagi along the dark, overgrown path back to the Beach, all you could think about was the sting in your chest that had nothing to do with running or climbing or the bruises forming along your shoulder.

It was their voices that echoed louder than the gunfire.

"Try not to get stuck in the tunnel, pig." "You're not exactly built for survival out here." "Bet they only keep you around in case food runs out, huh?"

Laughter. Always laughter. Like your body, your existence, was some tragic comedy they couldn't resist mocking.

And you had laughed, too. Because what else could you do when your heart wanted to fall out of your chest?

Now, the silence between you and Usagi stretched long. She was ahead of you slightly, moonlight brushing across her shoulders. She was quiet — she usually was — but tonight it felt louder.

You hated how slow you were walking. You hated that you were slowing her down. You hated that your thighs ached and your shirt clung to your body, making you hyper-aware of every bounce, every roll, every jiggle you knew they had seen, judged, back there.

You hated how much you hated yourself.

"Hey," Usagi said suddenly, glancing back. "You okay?"

You forced a nod.

She didn't buy it. She never did.

A few more steps, then she slowed down until you were side by side. Her presence, solid and calm, was somehow heavier than words.

"I know what they said," she murmured.

You looked away. "Yeah. Well. They're not wrong."

She stopped walking.

So you stopped too.

Usagi turned to face you, her expression unreadable in the moonlight. "What do you mean, they're not wrong?"

You gave a dry, bitter laugh. "I am slower. I do get tired quicker. I do eat more than they think I should. I'm not strong or fast like you. Or —"

"Stop," she said, quiet but firm.

You blinked.

Usagi stepped closer. "You survived. We survived. Not because of how fast we were. Not because of how we looked. Because we fought through it. Because you kept going, even when they made it harder."

"I kept going because I didn't want to die," you muttered.

"That's the point."

She took your hand gently, like it wasn't something she was entitled to, but something she wanted to offer.

"I know it hurts when people make you feel like your body—your existence—is wrong. Like you're just… taking up space."

You swallowed. Hard.

She looked up at you, voice softer now. "But I never thought that. Not once."

You opened your mouth to argue, to deflect, but nothing came out.

Usagi continued, fingers lacing with yours. "You're strong in ways they can't see. You feel everything. You notice when people are hurting. You carry shame that isn't even yours to carry and still keep walking. That's not weakness. That's… that's power, in a way they'll never understand."

You stared at her. She wasn't one for speeches, but every word came out clean and true. No frills. No pity. Just honesty.

"But I am big," you said quietly, half ashamed. "I know I'm not easy to… love."

Usagi's gaze didn't waver. ""No weight, scars, or disabilities decide your worth. Being bigger or being different doesn't make you less easy to love. You don't have to shrink yourself for me. Or for anyone."

Her thumb brushed the back of your hand.

"I don't want you despite your body. I want you with your body. All of it. The parts that jiggle when you laugh. The stretch marks that show you've lived. The softness that makes people underestimate you… but not me."

The wind rustled through the trees. You weren't sure how long you stood there.

Then, she leaned in and rested her forehead against yours.

"You don't have to fight them alone," she whispered.

And for the first time in days, the weight in your chest loosened.

You were still big. Still soft. Still everything they ridiculed. But here, in the quiet, with Usagi holding your hand like it mattered, you felt held. Seen. Not like a burden, but like a person. Like someone worth protecting. Worth loving.

And when you finally walked forward again, she stayed beside you the whole way.

Arisu

The Beach was a strange kind of place. People were supposed to fight, survive, and get by, but there was an unspoken rule about how to look while doing it. Everyone had their role to play, and in this world of games and survival, your body seemed to mark you with a label. You were too big, too soft. Too visible, in a way that left people uncomfortable.

No matter how hard you tried to fit in, to shrink yourself, to make yourself less of a target, it never worked.

Someone always had something to say.

"You're gonna eat everyone's rations today, huh?" a voice called from behind you as you walked to the dining hall. The words were light, but laced with that familiar mockery.

Your face burned as you kept your gaze on the ground, trying not to show how it made your stomach twist. You tried to walk a little faster, but you could still hear the snickering, feel the weight of their eyes following you.

"Wouldn't want to get stuck with them in a game. They'd be too slow."

You were used to it by now, the cruel words that followed you everywhere.

It was easier to keep your head down. To pretend you didn't hear it. To shrink, to hide.

But then a voice broke through the noise, and for a second, everything went quiet.

"Hey," Arisu said, his voice gentle, but firm. He'd been sitting on a bench nearby, watching the scene unfold with an expression that mirrored his usual mix of warmth and quiet resolve. His eyes, always so soft and open, were now locked on the people who had made their cruel remarks.

They all turned, suddenly realizing that Arisu, was watching them.

"Are you seriously making fun of someone for existing?" he asked, his tone blunt, though there was no malice in it. Just a quiet disbelief that anyone would act so callously.

The group of players shifted uncomfortably, none of them meeting his gaze. It wasn't like the others, who might've tried to defend themselves with sarcasm or insults. They were silent. Ashamed.

Arisu stood up slowly, walking over to you, his expression still soft, but his presence radiating warmth. There was no anger in his eyes, but something deeper, a kindness that felt almost protective.

He didn't say anything for a moment, just stood next to you, giving you the space to breathe, to settle the quiet storm that had been brewing in your chest since the comments started. It was rare for Arisu to get involved in something like this, but it wasn't out of a need to prove anything. He didn't need to. It was just who he was.

Finally, he turned toward the others, his gaze steady. "You think what they look like has anything to do with who they are?" he asked, a soft but insistent question.

The group of players just stared at him, their faces pale, knowing they couldn't answer without looking foolish. But Arisu wasn't interested in them anymore. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes softening.

"Don't let them get to you," he said quietly, his words like a warm hand on your shoulder. "I don't care what anyone says. I've seen what you're capable of. You're one of the strongest people here, and no one can take that away from you."

You felt the weight of those words settle in your chest, grounding you, filling you with a sense of validation you hadn't known you needed until that moment. The cruel voices faded into the background as Arisu's presence surrounded you like a quiet shield.

"I know it's hard," he continued, his voice gentle but firm. "But you're not alone. Not here. Not with me."

You wanted to say something, anything, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. So instead, you just nodded, letting the sincerity in his voice sink into your skin.

Arisu wasn't like the others. He didn't judge. He didn't laugh or mock. He just cared. And in this place, where so many of the people you met seemed to forget how to be kind, his warmth felt like a light in the dark.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile, that trademark Arisu smile that made you feel like everything would be okay, even in the worst of circumstances.

And then, before you could say anything back, he added, "You're beautiful, you know. Real beauty. The kind that matters."

You blinked, caught off guard by the softness of his words. His eyes were gentle, not flirtatious, not condescending — just genuine. Like he saw something in you that was too often overlooked.

"Real beauty?" you whispered, unsure whether you had heard him right.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Not the kind people talk about when they think about being perfect. But the kind that's strong, the kind that endures. That's the beauty I see."

For a moment, you couldn't speak. His words wrapped around you like a blanket, soothing a wound you hadn't even realized was still there.

"I'm not perfect," you said softly, still trying to process the weight of what he was saying.

Arisu smiled again, that gentle, quiet smile. "Who is?"

His response was so simple, but so profound, that it left you breathless.

"You're not here to be perfect. You're here to be you. And that's more than enough."

You couldn't remember the last time someone had said something so reassuring, so real. You had always felt like you needed to apologize for being yourself, for taking up space, for existing in a way that didn't fit into their narrow definition of what was worthy. But Arisu was showing you, in his quiet, thoughtful way, that there was nothing to apologize for.

In a world full of people who judged and belittled, he was a reminder that kindness — real, unspoken kindness — was the only thing that mattered.

Arisu stepped back slightly, his hand resting on your shoulder for just a brief second before he pulled away, offering you a gentle, encouraging smile.

"You're not alone," he repeated, his words so sincere you could feel them in your bones. "And I'll always be here if you need someone to remind you of that."

And for the first time in a long while, you felt like you didn't have to shrink anymore. Because in Arisu's eyes, you were enough. Exactly as you were.

Masterlist

Alice In Borderland Masterlist

#alice in borderland #Ann x reader #Ann Rizuna x reader #Kuina x reader #Kuina Hikari x reader #Aguni x reader #aguni morizono x reader #niragi x reader #Niragi Suguru x reader #last boss x reader #takatora samura x reader #mira kano x reader #mira x reader #chishiya x reader #Chishiya Shuntaro x reader #arisu x reader #arisu ryohei x reader #usagi x reader #usagi yuzuha x reader

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g3rardzlilfr3ak · 2 days ago

Note

ok wait hold up hear me out (I'm going to go apeshit)

secretary rard would loveeeee bdsm X3

She'd use thick rope to tie my wrists together, keep me on big chunky leashes with a chain collar, hit me and choke me with whips n belts, pushing me down with her heels, leaving really bad bite marks and bruises and hickeys all over my body, etc

she'd call me her little doggy and her good girl, pulling at my leash as she drills her cock into me, digging her long nails into my hips, my elbows and knees pressing down and scraping on the floor with my hands tied together... Fucking me in the ass so hard I'm SURE my back will either be broken or I won't be able to walk.. probably both

Oh and she'd have her belt in hand too, striking my delicate skin with it, leaving red marks on my ass and my back :,D

And she'd start fucking me with no warning either!! She'd randomly pull me into the janitors closet or bathrooms at our workplace and force my mouth into her cock.. other times lubing herself with nothing but spit (depending which hole she's going for bc tbh id prolly be wet just being in her presence) and ramming into me <333 she'd cover my mouth so I wouldn't make noise and get us cought, maybe she'd even stick her fingers down my throat... I mean if her cock's not already shoved down it 🤭

I need to be euthanized. (THERES MORE WHERE THIS CAME FROM)

going INSANE why are you SO FUCKING HORNY im going FERAL gnawing AT MY FUCKING ENCLOSURE.

i cant even write anything to top this shit bro.

#gerard way #mcr tumblr #my chem romance #mcrmy #my chem gerard #my chemical romance #mcr gerard #gee way #mcr #secretary gerard way #gerard way x reader #gerard way smut

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psychic-pigeons · 1 year ago

Note

hey if you write a pattern for the chilchuck amigurumi I will buy it instantly

ive gotten multiple asks about this, so ill just answer them all here in one go.

i wrote down everything while i was working on it, but i theres some stuff that i would do diffrently and i also didnt take a lot of process pics so it wont be a full proper pattern for those reasons, but ill add all that i have under the cut!

i dont want any compensation, but if you wanna do me a favor you can donate to esims for gaza, unrwa, any of these gefundme's, or another trusted charity of your choice.

now to the pattern! i would love to see the results of anyone making a squeakychuck, feel free to tag or dm me :)

the dimensions of this depend on the size of ur squeaker and yarn, i had a 4ish cm squeaker and somewhat thick 4/8 cotton yarn (kinda 6/8ish thickness). depending on ur yarn and squeaker u might need to follow a different pattern for the body.

if youre using a different body base pattern, the tunic and blouse pattern are pretty easily adjustable. ill add some notes for that at those sections of the pattern. ill also link some videos i used at relevant sections.

if theres an Action store near where u live, see pic below for the yarn i used for the skin, reddish brown, black and light brown. i got 3 of these but 2 packs was enough. the dark brown and creme were from my stash. i also got the squeaker from a donut dog toy from Action.

abreviations list (all in us terms):

mr = magic ring

sc = single crochet

hdc = half dubble crochet

slst = slipstitch

ch = chain

bobble = 5 double crochet in one stitch

4inc = 4 sc in one

4 inc = increase in the next four stitches

BLO = back loop only

FLO = front loop only

what you need:

-skin color of choice yarn

-creme/white yarn (normal for body, thin for blouse)

-greyish creme (for boot flaps)

-black yarn

-dark brown yarn

-light brown yarn

-reddish brown yarn

-green yarn

-4 tiny buttons (for arm joints)

-cardboard (for shoe sole

-3.5mm hook

-squeaker

-needlefelt needle

-stuffing

-stitchmarker (optional, i always mark the first stitch of the round)

once again disclaimer, this is not a propper pattern, this is just what i wrote down while i was crochetting. it may not nessecarily be the best way to do it. i wanted most clothes to be removable, but you have to partially disassemble the doll if you want to remove them. if you dont like how something looks or works ur free to do whatever you want. big fan of fucking around and finding out personally.

if you have any questions feel free to dm me, might take me a while to reply though.

SQUEAKY CHUCK PATTERN 3.5mm hook

head (skin)

r1: sc 6 in mr

r2: (inc) x6

r3: (sc 1, inc) x6

r4: (sc 2, inc) x6

r5: (sc3, inc) x6

r6: (sc4, inc) x6

r7: (sc 5, inc) x6

r8-15 : sc 42

r16: (sc 5, dec) x6

r17: (sc 4, dec) x6

r18: (sc3, dec) x6

r19: (sc2, dec) x6

r20: (sc 1, dec) x6

r21: sc 12

slst, fasten off

ears x2 (skin)

r1: sc6 in mc

r2: (inc) x6

r3: (sc, inc) x6

r4-6: sc 18

r7: dec 9. slst fatsen off.

Body - leg up (skin, black, thick creme)

start with skin

r1: ch 6, inc in 2nd from hook, sc 3, 4inc, sc 3, inc

r2: inc 2, sc 3, inc 4, sc 3, inc 2

r3: inc 3, sc 5, inc 6, sc 5, inc 3

r4: BLO sc in all

r5: sc 3, dec 2, sc 3, dec 2, sc 6, dec 2, sc 3, dec 2, sc 3

r6: sc 1, dec, sc 4, dec 6, sc 4, dec, sc 1.

r7: sc 6, dec 3, sc 6

stuff

-r8 dec, sc in all

change color to black [color change video]

r9-23: sc in all

1st leg: fasten off

2nd leg [joining legs video]:

r24: sc7, ch 1, sc join in 1st leg after last sc, sc13, sc1 in visible v loop of ch1, sc 7

r25: sc7, sc 1 in remaining v loop of ch1, sc21

r26-31: sc 28

r32: sc 7, change color to creme/white, slst 1, sc 20

r33-35: sc 29

r36: (sc 8, dec) x3

r37: (sc7, dec) x3

r38: (sc6, dec)x3

add squeaker

r39: sc21

r40: (sc 5, dec) x3

r41-42: sc18

r43: (sc 1, dec) x6

fasten off

Arms (skin, dark brown)

i made the arms movable with button joints, but after looking at some videos i discovered that what i did is not called a button joint and i dont have a video explaining it, so i hope this drawing helps.

the red bits are the buttons inside of the arms and body, and the thread (blue for clarity, i matched it w the skin) should be pulled tight and finished off with a double or tripple knot inside the body.

or you could just sew on the arms that also works. but wait with doing that until youve finished the blouse as the hands dont fit through the sleeves. i have a seperate section on assembly at the end of the pattern.

start with skin

r1:sc6 in mc

r2: inc x6

r3(sc, inc)x6

r4 : sc 18

change color to brown

r5: sc 18

1st arm r6: sc 3, bobble, sc 14.

2nd arm r6.2: sc 14, boble, sc 3

[i matched the top loop to the bobble color but i think it would look better if u didnt]

r7: sc 18

r8: (sc 4, dec)x3

r9: (sc 3, dec)x3

r10 sc12

color switch to skin (you might want to do this a round earlier, i didnt initially plan on making the gloves flared, and this color change part can sometimes be seen and look kinda weird)

r11-14: sc 12

r15: (sc4, dec)x2

r16-19 : sc 10

r20: (sc3, dec)x2

r21: sc8

insert button joint

r28: (sc2, dec)x2

slst, sew shut

glove flare (dark brown)

r1: ch 15, slst join LONG TAIL

r2: (sc4, inc)x3

r3: sc4, inc, sc8, inc, sc 4

r4: sc 2, slst fasten off

sew 2 rows below thumb bobble

boots (light brown, dark brown, greyish creme) [video]

these are removable but they dont go on easily, so you gotta patiently massage the feet in there.

start with light brown

ch 7, start in 2nd from hook:

r1: sc 5, 3inc, sc 4, inc

r2: inc, sc 4, inc 3, sc 4, inc 2

r3: inc, sc 5, hdc inc 7, sc 5, inc 2

r4: slst fasten off. sew in holes/tails, fray ends for flat gluejob. trace onto cardboard for sole.

switch color to dark brown

r1: BLO join slst, BLO sc in all

r2-3: sc in all

glue in sole

r4: sc 8, dec 5, sc 12

r5: sc 7, dec 4, sc 10

r6: sc7, dec2, sc 10

r7-10: sc in all

switch color to greyish creme

r11-12: sc in all

r13: slst, FLO sc in all

r14-16: sc all

slst fasten off

flip the greyish creme flap over.

blouse (thinner creme)

this is a standard raglan pattern, if you need the whole thing bigger/smaller you need to have more/less chains at the beginning. this change also carries over to the collar. the increases are evenly spaced for me, and unless your doll has a very broad chest this shouldnt have to change.

if the arms need more space you need to either add more rows to the r3-7 part and/or add more chains in r8 (this part should fit pretty sugg around the body)

i was experimenting a bit w using BLO to minimize the gap where the sleeve and body seperate (r8). it worked p good but you can ignore it if you dont understand it and just sc in all.

(edit: if this confuses you, understandable. I answered an ask abt it here but feel free to ask if its still unclear)

r1: ch24, slst join.

r2: (sc 5, inc) x4

r3-7: inc in first of previous inc. last row should have 10 sc between increases.

r8: sc5, blo sc 1, ch 5, blo sc join in 1st of next inc, sc 11, blo sc1, ch5, blo sc join in 1st st of next inc, sc 5

r9: sc6, blo sc 1, sc 5, blo sc1, sc11, blo sc 1, sc 5, blo sc 1, sc 6

r10-13: sc in all (36)

r14: (sc8, inc)x4

r15: sc in all (40)

slst finish off

Sleeve

r1: join mid armpit, slst ,sc2, sc in the leftover bits from the BLO stitches, sc 11, sc in leftover BLO bits, sc2

r2-6: sc in all

collar

join left-middle front, sc 7, inc, sc8, inc, sc 7. turn

r2: sc7, inc, sc 10, inc, sc 7. turn

r3: sc8, inc, sc 10, inc, sc 8. turn

cuffs

r1: join mid body-facing side, FLO sc 20

r2-4: sc 20, slst fatsen off

Tunic (red brown) [tunesian entrelac crochet]

if you want to make this bigger i recommend keeping the same square layout, but making the squares bigger. its a bit of measuring and math to figure it out.

the tunic is made in tunesian crochet and i dont really know what written patterns for that look like so i hope this makes sense.

for a single square:

r1: ch4, start in 2nd back bump from hook. pull up a loop from ever back bump. you should have 4 loops on your hook total. simplestitch in all

r2-4: simplestitch in all.

r5: slst in all. fasten off

for the slanted parts i did the decrease by pulling through the middle 2 loops in one go on the back pass

this is how the full thing should look, its worked from bottom left to top right.

sew together the shoulders together, then sew in all of the ends

:) good luck

tunesian crochet has a tendancy to curl, so if you used cotton i def recommend blocking it

i defined the grid a little bit with a dark brown pencil.

cowl (green)

BLO sc 7, repeat till desired lenght, then BLO slst join the last row to the first.

scalp undercut bit (dark brown)

r1: sc 6 in mr

r2: (inc) x6

r3: (sc 1, inc) x6

r4: (sc 2, inc) x6

r5: (sc3, inc) x6

r6: (sc 4, inc)x6

r7: sc36

sew on back of the head (recommend doing this before the ears and face, see end for more detailed assembly instructions)

hair (reddish brown) [hair video]

disclaimer, this is kind of a mess. the lenghts didnt line up the way i intended so i improvised by adding loose strands and spent a lot of time pinning every strand in place before glueing them down.

i used bison kit contact glue since its sturdy, transparant, flexible and waterproof. you can use hot glue as well, i just personally dont like it because its bulky.

r1: sc 21 in mc. join BLO slst

r2: ch 12, sc in 2nd from hook, gdc10, BLO slst join

r3: ch 12, sc in 2nd from hook, gdc10, BLO slst join

r4: ch13, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 11, BLO slst join

r5: ch13, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 11, BLO slst join

r6: ch 14, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 12, BLO slst join

r7: ch16, sc in 2nd form hook, hdc 14, BLO slst join

r8: ch 18, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 16, BLO slst join

r9: ch 18, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 16, BLO slst join

r10: ch 14, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 12, BLO slst join

r11: ch 12, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 10, BLO slst join

r12: ch 10, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 8, BLO slst join

from now on, join in the FLO's of previous round

r13: ch10, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 8, FLO slst join

r14: ch10, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 8 , FLO slst join

r15: ch12, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 10 , FLO slst join

r16: ch12, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 10 , FLO slst join

r17: ch14, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 12 , FLO slst join

r18: ch16, sc in 2nd form hook, hdc 14, FLO slst join

r19: ch 18, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 16, FLO slst join

r20: ch16, sc in 2nd form hook, hdc 14, FLO slst join

r21: ch14, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 12 , FLO slst join

1x ch 6, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 4

2x ch8, sc in 2nd from hook, hdc 6

2x ch 10, sc in 2nd from chain, hdc 8, slst in same, fasten off.

2x ch 12, sc in 2nd from chain, hdc 10, slst in same, fasten off.

3x ch14

pin all in place until it looks good, tie +glue loose strands first. then glue back pieces, crown, and lastly bangs/ top back layer. some of the lose strands go behind the ears, one is the left sideburn, and the rest is to cover up the crown. these pics are the best i can do as a guide, this was my first time doing this so i was struggling lol.

i didnt fully glue down the bangs and the top back layer bc i thought it would be fun if u could ruffle his hair, but my friend who i gave the plush to has significantly abused him (its been 2 days) and his hair is a mess so im gonna have to glue it down again lol. might as well do it all the first time if u plan on throwing him down the stairs or something.

Face

for eyes + eyebrows, embroider outline with dark brown, then needle felt [video] the inner parts w unraveled dark brown fluff. the dark brown i used was probably acrylic. cotton doesnt really work well for this.

Belt and pouch (dark brown)

the belt is a 3 strand basic friendship bracelet! [video]

sew together the ends and hide it with by sewing the pouch on top.

i didnt write down the pattern for the pouch, but from the top of my head its the same start as the squares for the tunic

r1-9: simple stitch in all

r10: simple stitch 1, decrease by putting your hook through 2 vertical bars when pulling up a loop, simple stitch edge 1.

r11: slst in all, finish with a long tail

use tail to sew together the sides, and sew the pouch onto the belt. use some yellow thread to make a button.

ASSEMBLY.

put on the blouse, put the arms in their place and finish the button joints.

put on the tunic, lace the sides with dark brown yarn, finish with a knot and hide the tails underneath the chest part of the tunic.

slide on the belt and boots.

sew the scalp undercut bit to the head

sew the ears to the head

tie + glue the loose hair strands behind the ears

glue the back of the hair

glue the middle circle part of the hair

glue the top back layer and bangs

sew the head to the body

put on the cowl

i hope this is somewhat clear, feel free to dm me is you have questions.

enjoy your squeakychuck :D

#ask #crochet #chilchuck #dungeon meshi #mine #talk #crochet pattern

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svt-kiki · 4 months ago

Text

( 🥂 ) 𝐎𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓　　⌅ .

liked by everyone_woo, leesoohyuk and more

kiki_17　don’t mind, just chilling with ＠theacademy ...

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　 ─　posted on Mar, 4

　tagged kingofbingo, imsebastianstan, ewsbdi

view all comments

vernonline　you should’ve taken me as plus one

kiki_17　when i got nominated ㅎㅎㅎ

vernonline　deal 🤝🏻

user　no joke i can see it’ll happen in next couple years

user　OMG she’s taking pic with sebastian stan !?!?!?!?!

user　wait i didn’t following them this couple days what my lady have done at there 🥺

user　she was there as a presenter of animated film with andrew garfield ❤️✨

user　she won’t let me leave from bi panic i fear….

　　+　( 𝗕𝗢𝗡𝗨𝗦 )

just kiki’s outfits just in case you wanna know … mark gong for the ceremony, versace for vanity fair after party 🍸 ࣪ .

　　　+　( 𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗕𝗢𝗡𝗨𝗦 )

⌨️ ⊹ ࣪ . by ellen smith

although the venue of vanity fair oscar party is packed with striking a-listers, sometimes unexpected gem just sweeps the attention. and last night, it was about kiki from kpop group seventeen. in a split second young emmy winner stepped into the room in show-stopping versace white halter neck gown, seems like people around her is just devoured by her presence at once. however, kiki immediately greeted the reunion with another emmy winner anna sawai and just stick with her through the nights. one of insiders speaked, “whenever she departed with anna, many people, including drew starky, nicholas chavez, sebastian stan, and none other than mikey maddison, winner of the night, trying to reach her for casual conversation or ask her number straightforwardly. some people even attend there with their partner, but it looked like that wasn’t enough reason to stop them from it.” the insider continues, “after a while, she silently asked help to rowoon, korean actor and former member of kpop band sf9. they must have been known each other before, since they once belonged to kpop industry in same era. rest of the night, rowoon kept her away from those people except her friend such as donatella versace, colman domingo and his husband.” as her words indicates herself which is “not a party-person,” uprising japanese star left the venue early and skipped the after party which presented by madonna and gucci.

( tag list )　@smh-anon @jennwonwoo @angie-x3 @scarlet789 @cheeksung

#…… and i’m wondering if soohyuk is still in LA cause #also rowoon was there as well ! kiki’s upcoming drama has lavish casts indeed 🙂‍↕️#༝　( 💬 )　⸺　kiki　› .　instagram #༝　( 🥂 )　⸺　kiki　› .　award shows #༝　( ⌨️ )　⸺　kiki　› .　articles #seventeen 14th member #seventeen female addition #seventeen addition #seventeen oc #kpop addition #kpop oc #kpop added member #kpop female addition #fictional idol community

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37sommz · 11 months ago

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✼. THRU SPACE 'N TIME | PROFILE.

001.⠀⠀THE BIOGRAPHY⠀!⠀⠀. . .⠀⠀

BIRTH NAME: michaela jeanette sommers NICKNAMES: mitch, mickey DOB: dec. 23, 1999 HOMETOWN: gold coast, australia ETHNICITY: australian & xhosa NATIONALITY: australian LANGUAGES: english & italian HEIGHT: 176 cm WEIGHT: 55 kg DOMINANT HAND: left FAMILY: mother, father, older sister

Born in Gold Coast, Australia on December 23, 1999, Michaela Sommers was introduced to the world of motorsports from an early age. Her father, Tobias, and his brother, Travis, were avid Formula racing fans who idolized the likes of Senna, Schumacher, and Lauda. The motorsports bug skipped over Sommers' older sister, Courtney, before biting her at the mere age of six. By her ninth birthday, Michaela was competing in karting championships along the Australian east coast.

Despite her natural aptitude for racing, Michaela recalls facing discrimination for both her race and gender quite early on while karting, even going as far as entering under a male name to avoid arbitrary sponsorship barriers. Despite the negativity that would swirl around her reputation, the young driver would win her first national championship at the age of twelve with plenty of rumors circling concerning her future in the sport. Sommers would attempt to enter her first international competition but was forced to pull out after her father lost his job in the summer of 2012.

Without much hope, Michaela would step back from racing for nearly six months before eventually deciding to join her uncle who had moved to England after his marriage just years prior. Travis then became Michaela's manager, working endlessly to ensure his niece would be able to continue climbing the karting ladder. Shortly after her move to England, her uncle would connect with Australian F1 driver Mark Webber who would travel to watch her race in a regional competition in 2013. Stunned by her potential, Webber helped the young girl to catch the attention of a racing team competing in the Ginetta Junior Championship alongside future McLaren teammate Lando Norris. Sommers' transition to racing cars would prove successful, securing a junior championship at just 14 years old.

Sommers would continue working through the ranks, receiving extensive media attention and comparisons to Lewis Hamilton as a teenager. Spending one year at the Formula 3 level, Michaela would race for British team Jagonya Ayam in 2015 finishing fifth in the championship and second in the rookie cup, both below Charles Leclerc. Her performance would catch the attention of Italian team Prema Racing who signed her to development for higher formulae alongside Pierre Gasly for the 2016 season.

Despite an average result, ending her rookie season in sixth place, Prema would resign the Australian who would be simultaneously be selected to join the Ferrari driver development program for the 2017 season. That same year, Sommers would wrap up her Formula 2 season in second place, once again behind Charles Leclerc.

Eventually, Michaela would finally secure a Formula 2 championship in 2018 while signing on as a reserve driver for Ferrari. Her official Formula One debut came after Sommers signed on to be Alfa Romeo's second-seat driver for the 2019 season, securing two points in her debut race before finishing her rookie season in eighth place.

002.⠀⠀THE STATISTICS⠀!⠀⠀. . .⠀⠀

FORMULA ONE (2019) alfa romeo racing, #37 ✼.⠀raikonnen & sommers ✼.⠀highest finish: 4th (x1) ✼.⠀championship standing: 8th ✼.⠀95 points

FORMULA ONE (2020) alfa romeo racing orlen, #37 ✼.⠀raikonnen & sommers ✼.⠀highest finish: 3rd (x3) ✼.⠀championship standing: 7th ✼.⠀105 points

FORMULA ONE (2021) mclaren f1 team, #37 ✼.⠀norris & sommers ✼.⠀highest finish: 1st (x2) ✼.⠀championship standing: 4th ✼.⠀223 points

FORMULA ONE (2022) mclaren f1 team, #37 ✼.⠀norris & sommers ✼.⠀highest finish: 1st (x2) ✼.⠀championship standing: 4th ✼.⠀293 points

FORMULA ONE (2023) aston martin aramco cognizant f1 team, #37 ✼.⠀alonso & sommers ✼.⠀highest finish: 1st (x2) ✼.⠀championship standing: 3rd ✼.⠀284 points

FORMULA ONE (2024) aston martin aramco f1 team, #37 ✼.⠀alonso & sommers ✼.⠀highest finish: 1st (x2) ✼.⠀championship standing: 3rd ✼.⠀188 points

✼. view:⠀masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request.

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samflir · 3 months ago

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Similarities between Toki Pona and Lojban

Toki Pona and Lojban are two engineered constructed languages with speaking communities and very different goals. Toki Pona is a minimalist language based on simplifying your thoughts to fit the vocabulary of 140 words. Its grammar is similarly minimalistic. It has a simple sentence structure, not many particles and no affixes at all. Lojban is a logical language, one designed to express logical statements in its grammar and lack structural ambiguity. It is not at all minimalist, having over 3.5 times more particles than Toki Pona has words in total. It has particles for just about any grammatical function or marking you can think of.

So you may be surprised to learn that, having learned both languages, I consider them to be strikingly similar. They both have traits in common that English lacks for what I think are similar reasons.

Overall character

These are the big picture similarities. They are the cause of the specific similarities discussed later.

One class of root words

Both languages throw root words into one class, with usage determining their interpretation as a noun, verb or modifier. Both achieve this slightly differently.

Toki Pona's contentives

Most Toki Pona words cover broad semantic categories and have interpretations as nouns, verbs and modifiers relating to these categories in some way. For example, the definition of "moku" is:

eat, drink, consume, swallow, ingest; food, edible thing

These all relate to food and eating in some way. A very frequently cited example of Toki Pona's ambiguity is "mi moku" meaning "I eat" or "I am food", as Toki Pona doesn't have a copula. Note that it's not possible to predict how the meaning of a word changes between noun and verb usage and this must be memorised with each word.

Lojban's verbs

Lojban's only class of root word is verbs. These are defined in an unusual way, resembling sentences with blank spots given numbered Xs for nouns. For example, klama means:

x1 goes to x2 from x3 by route x4 with means/vehicle x5

"klama" is about as complex as verbs get, having 5 blank spots (arguments). Most have fewer than this! The blank spots are how Lojban creates nouns. The articles (lo/le) in Lojban select the first place of a verb and turn it into a noun. This avoids the need to memorise unpredictable changes in meaning for different words. For example, "lo citka" can only ever mean "an eater", it cannot mean "a food", which would be "lo cidja".

Concepts that are nouns in English are verbs in Lojban that include their copula. For example "cidja" means:

x1 is food for x2

This is as much as a verb to Lojban's grammar as the entire rest of its root word dictionary. The exact same grammar that works with "klama" works with "cidja". In other words, Lojban makes no distinction between being and doing. This also means that while Lojban does have a copula, it is barely ever used. Verbs contain "to be" in their definition.

Greedy phrases

In English you mostly know where a noun phrase ends because a lexically defined noun appears at the end of a string of lexically defined adjectives. Context and word order alone are usually sufficient to know how an English sentence is structured. Toki Pona and Lojban both take a different approach, because zero-deriving modifiers from contentives and verbs means that phrases are "greedy", they keep expanding unless explicitly separated.

Toki Pona phrases

Modifier phrases are the main way that Toki Pona stays expressive with only 140 words. Toki Pona has noun-modifier order. "jan pona" literally means "person good" but actually translates as "good person", since English is an adjective-noun language. You can keep adding root words onto phrases indefinitely and every following word modifies the whole phrase to its left:

small red car tomo tawa lili loje ((room move) small) red

Lojban tanru

Lojban's "tanru" are phrases just like Toki Pona's, where one word modifies another through juxtaposition. Lojban's order is backwards from Toki Pona, with the verb determining the place structure (and therefore most of the meaning) occurring last rather than first. However, Lojban still groups modifiers to the left. Just like in Toki Pona, root words can be added onto the end indefinitely since all are in the same category and they cannot, on their own, indicate the end of a noun phrase or start of a predicate.

intensely-red type of car kandi xunre karce ((intense) red) car

Keeping open question words in place

English fronts question words. This means that when asking a question, the syntax of the sentence is shuffled in some way that brings the wh-word to the start of the sentence. "You want what?" becomes "What do you want?". This is not the case in Toki Pona or Lojban, which prefer to keep question words unmoved.

Toki Pona's seme

The question word in Toki Pona is "seme" and it can go in the noun or verb positions of a sentence.

This is/does what? ni li seme?

This is good for who/what? ni li pona tawa seme?

Lojban's ma and mo

Lojban has different question words for every possible type of question. It has many more than just "ma" and "mo" which are noun and verb questions respectively. But those are the question words that most directly correspond with "seme" and just like it, don't require any change in word order.

This is/does what? .i ti mo

This is good for who/what? .i ti xamgu ma

Word order

Both Toki Pona and Lojban are similar to each other but also English in word order. Toki Pona has subject-verb-object word order and also tends to move preposition phrases to the end of sentences. While Lojban's word order is flexible, it defaults to a very Englishy order of putting the verb second, after a single noun and then putting all other nouns after the verb.

I give a book to you at the library.

mi pana e lipu, tawa sina, lon tomo lipu. I give a book, to you, at building book.

.i mi dunda lo cukta do bu'u le ckusro I give a book you at the library.

Specific similarities

As a result of the similarities in overall character, Lojban and Toki Pona have some very similar grammar.

Predicate markers

English doesn't have a predicate marker because it doesn't need one, not usually anyway. A predicate marker tells you where the verb in a sentence starts. This seemed like such an obviously artificial feature to me (having only seen it in Toki Pona and Lojban) that I assumed it was something that only existed in conlangs for a good while. I've since learned that Tok Pisin has a predicate marker. Natural languages are always stranger than I expect!

Toki Pona's li

The word "li" in Toki Pona separates third-person subjects from their predicates. It is essential to Toki Pona's grammar to allow for speakers to stop adding description to the subject and start the verb.

A big cat wants a fish. soweli suli li wile e kala.

Toki Pona allows for a subject to have multiple predicates attached to it by repeating "li".

A hunter sells food and goes to a house. jan alasa li esun e moku li kama, tawa tomo.

Lojban's cu

The word "cu" in Lojban terminates any nouns before the predicate of a sentence or clause. This is very similar to "li" and when Toki Pona speakers learn Lojban, it's very useful to be able to say "remember 'li'? it works like that".

A fish eats a person. .i lo finpe cu citka lo prenu

However, it is never actually obligatory in Lojban. It is usually used when the noun before the verb is one that uses an article, as opposed to a single-word pronoun. This is because pronouns self-terminate and don't start a greedy tanru phrase.

I run. .i mi bajra

Lojban only permits one "cu" per clause. This is a very helpful rule for certain deeply-nested sentence structures. Attaching multiple predicates to a single subject is still possible, but requires conjunctions.

A hunter sells a food and goes to a house. .i lo kalte cu vecnu lo cidja gi'e klama lo zdani

Phrase bracket particles

The default way that both languages group together modifiers in phrases means that it's impossible for multi-word phrases on the right to modify single words to the left. A phrase with the structure "A B C D" will always group together as "((A B) C) D" when what you want may be "(A B) (C D)". Both languages have words for this exact purpose of regrouping modifiers, a type of particle that has no direct counterpart in English.

Toki Pona's pi

Toki Pona's particle "pi" is used to override Toki Pona's default left grouping. An example is "tomo telo nasa", which translates to "crazy restroom" because "tomo telo" groups together and is finally modified by "nasa".

crazy restroom (tomo telo) nasa (room water) crazy

Putting a "pi" after "tomo" allows for "telo nasa" (alcohol) to modify "tomo", creating the meaning of "bar". These two very different meanings are only distinguished by the grouping of modifiers.

bar tomo pi (telo nasa) room (water crazy)

Using multiple "pi" in one phrase is ambiguous and considered bad style. It is unclear whether both pi phrases apply equally to the head of the phrase (flat pi) or the second pi phrase applies only to the contents of the pi phrase it follows (nested pi). The example given in sona pona is "lipu pi sona mute pi toki Inli". Is it a book of much knowledge of English, or a book of much knowledge and English?

Lojban's ke-ke'e

Lojban's particle "ke" does pretty much the exact same thing as "pi", but appears in opposite situations from "pi" due to the opposite word order of tanru compared to Toki Pona phrases.

catcher of big dogs barda gerku kavbu (big dog) catcher

The meaning of the phrase without pi in Toki Pona has to use "ke" to get the brackets on the right of the phrase.

a catcher of dogs, who is big barda ke gerku kavbu big (dog catcher)

Unlike Toki Pona, mulitple "ke" particles unambiguously nest into each other. Conjunctions are needed to achieve the "flat pi" meaning from Toki Pona.

small school for girls which is beautiful melbi ke cmalu ke nixli ckule pretty (small (girl school))

Unlike Toki Pona, a terminating particle "ke'e" closes the opening bracket created by "ke". Sometimes, the entire "ke-ke'e" structure may be replaced with "bo" as this marks a gap between two verbs to be interpreted as grouping together first before the usual left-grouping rule is applied.

small catcher of big dogs cmalu ke barda gerku ke'e kavbu cmalu barda bo gerku kavbu small (big dog) catcher

Analysis

Toki Pona is vague, not ambiguous

With a few small exceptions such as preverbs, prepositions and nested pi, the structure of a Toki Pona sentence is usually not ambiguous because of very un-englishy particles tagging parts of sentences such as "li" and "e". Most of Toki Pona's multiple interpretations come from its words covering board "semantic spaces", fuzzy clouds of meaning that are clarified through the addition of modifiers and context.

Toki Pona and Lojban both solve ambiguity in similar ways

Both being SVO isolating languages with greedy phrases, both languages use similar very obvious solutions for terminating phrases. Lojban has terminators, articles, prepositions and the predicate marker "cu". Toki Pona has "en", "li", "e" and prepositions marking the starts of phrases in sentences. The biggest overlap is predicate marking, but both languages also have particles exclusively for regrouping modifiers.

#constructed language #constructed languagse #Lojban #Toki Pona #Linguistics #Syntax #Grammar #Conlangs #Conlang #Logical languages #infodump

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justarkive · 3 months ago

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THE JEONS | req 4

Request : New Ink, More Love

summary: a collection of chaotic family drabbles. thats it.

contents: family!au, non.idol jungkook, girl!dad jk, fluff, angst, sensitive topics + smut sometimes!

• chap contents: emotional softness, fresh tattoo tenderness, surprise grand gestures, body worship through ink, girl dad feels, softness so potent it could make you feral

• 2/3 requests by @marblemoonstones <3

series masterlist <

He always said he wouldn’t do it. “Nope,” he’d told you, years ago, when you were curled into him, tracing the ink across his arm. “I know myself. If I start tattooing everywhere, I won’t stop.”

So he’d kept his promise. One arm. Full sleeve. Nothing else.

Until now.

He doesn’t say anythinf, of course. He never does. You don’t even realize what he’s planning when he asks Hana to dip her hand in paint one random Saturday afternoon, laying paper on the floor like it’s just another one of their silly projects.

“what’s this for?” you’d asked.

“Just sensory stuff,” he replied, suspiciously casual. “She likes mess, remember?”

(He told Hana it was a game—called Stamp the Dada. She shrieked with laughter.)

You don’t question it again.

Until a few weeks later, when he pulls his shirt off in your bedroom, and you gasp.

Right along his side—starting from the sharp edge of his hipbone and winding up to just beneath his ribs—is a stunning, intricate piece of ink.

Her tiny handprint, immortalized in black and gray.

Your birth flowers blooming from her fingertips.

His twisting up the side like a vine wrapping them both together, leading up to his heart.

All three sets, twined in detail, with your names hidden carefully in the stems. Tiny. Subtle. But there. Right where they’ve always been.

His family.

You step forward, hand shaking, eyes burning. “Jungkook…”

“I’ve been sketching it for months,” he admits, suddenly sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t know if I’d ever actually go through with it.”

Your throat closes up. “It’s beautiful.”

He catches your waist before you can fully cry. Kisses your temple. Rests his forehead to yours.

“I wanted something permanent,” he whispers. “Something that’s… always with me.”

You press your lips to his shoulder.

And then Hana walks in.

She sees it immediately—gasping, eyes wide, little feet hurrying across the room. She hops into his arms like a koala and places her small fingers directly over the sore, red skin.

“Ow,” he winces softly. “Gentle, baby.”

She pets it instead. Tracing her fingers over the curves of her handprint. Leaning her head on his bare shoulder like it’s hers now.

And it is.

Your heart breaks and swells all at once.

Because he’s holding her with one arm, and holding you with the other. All while wearing your love permanently carved into his skin.

And for a man who once swore he wouldn’t mark up more of his body, he looks like he’s never been more whole.

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tenebraevesper · 2 months ago

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Sonic the Hedgehog: Winter Jam

Welcome back everyone to Sonic the Hedgehog: Winter Jam... in the middle of spring. I had stated this somewhere else, but the reason I'm not doing these Analyzer posts (or the fanfic chapters) as often as I probably should was because of some health issues and while I feel better now, I'm still dealing with some stuff, so thank you for your patience. I can also assure you that the next chapter of Sonic Cyber Revolution and maybe even With Light In My Heart will be coming out this week.

Of course, if you guys aren't interested in an AU where Sonic and his friends are digital anomalies based on their video game counterparts and saving the day from all kinds of threats or a Sonadow story taking place Post-Frontiers/Post-Sonic X Shadow Generations, that's also fine, because we have a fun story ahead of us. X3

We kick off with Eggman staring at his monitor, with Orobot and Cubot noting how he's been working for days...

...watching reality TV?

Well, I guess that's a way to spend your time. God knows how much time I spent in front of the TV watching Takeshi's Castle... and now I want Sonic and his friends go through an episode of Takeshi's Castle. Thank you, Iasmin Omar Ata, for writing this.

Anyways, speaking of reality TV, we also find several characters showing up on the monitors, such as Barry, the Conductor and his wife (The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog) and Gadget and Ian Jr. (Sonic Forces). It's nice to see them have the time of their lives for once without being menaced by Eggman's robots.

Unfortunately, we don't know Eggman's opinion on reality TV, but we do know what Orbot thinks of them. He believes that the people in them compete over useless things and how Eggman's been obsessing over them, which means that he and Cubot have their work getting piled up... Okay, is it just me or is this the most menacing, raw emotional that Orbot has ever looked? Because that one panel of him stewing in anger is pretty cool.

Cubot then points out how Eggman told them that this was ''research'' to break Sonic, with Orbot noting how he won't leave that chair until he's satisfied. Ah, so Eggman's suffering from writer's block (or is it mad scientist's block?). I can relate to that.

Also, hi Mecha Sonic Mark III. We haven't seen you since Sonic Adventure.

Orbot and Cubot then take a look at some of the ideas Eggman put on the wall, having a Pinky and the Brain moment as they get inspired by them.

We then cut to Green Hill, where Sonic is relaxing with Tails, Amy, Cream, Cheese, Big, Rouge and Omega.

It is all fun and games, until a Giant Chopper shows up, with Sonic nervously pointing at it.

The Giant Chopper then promptly eats them and swims off into the distance.

Roll credits.

Jokes aside, they're not dead, although that was a pretty novel way to kidnap all of them. Instead, they get dropped in some kind of dark room, having no clue what's going on.

The lights turn on, blinding them, with Orbot and Cubot announcing how they have been kidnapped to participate in Orbot and Cubot's Winter Jam.

Side-note, I love how Cubot taped eye-brows, it's really hilarious.

As the Badniks cheer them on, Cubot continues the speech about how the contestants will be put through trials, with the winner taking an amazing prize:

It's a Chaos Emerald!

Also, I may have lost the count, but I believe that so far, we only saw three Chaos Emeralds being found since the whole Metal Virus fiasco - one being taken by Rouge when Rough and Tumble teamed up with her and Tangle, the other being taken by Sonic and Tails and this being the third one. You may correct me on this.

Sonic and co. are not too thrilled about this, wondering if this is another trap, and Omega is about to blast his way out. Orbot and Cubot have an ''Oh, no!'' moment, and quickly quell Omega's bloodthirst by promising that he can fight against a brand-new, big, bad Badnik. Omega finds this acceptable, and I'm already laughing my ass off. This is promising to be good.

Cubot wants them to break into teams of three, probably as a reference to Sonic Heroes, but Orbot reminds him that they lack two members.

We then get a brief flashback of Shadow just glaring at the two when they attempt to ask him whether he'd join the competition and another flashback of Knuckles throwing them off Angel Island Team Rocket-style. I really wish we could've seen how that conversation went. I guess it's no wonder they outright kidnapped the rest of contestants.

In any case, after a short break, we everyone divided into teams of two - Team Sonic, consisting of Sonic and Tails; Team Dark, consisting of Rouge and Omega; Team Rose, consisting of Amy, Cream and Cheese; and Team Big, consisting of Big and Froggy.

I also love how there's a disclaimer about how all of the cast members agreed to filming. Sure, kidnapping the cast members is a-okay, but we draw the line at filming them without their consent.

We start of with Scene Jam!, where the contestants have to create a chill holiday party vibe. Tails has already the plans out to make this perfect, but Sonic decides to use his super speed to get it done quickly, getting caught in Big's fishing hook and just stumbling all over the place getting caught in the fairy lights. Love how Tails is just done with his brother's hijinks.

Rouge and Omega have better plans, with Rouge deciding to just steal the Chaos Emerald, while Omega serves as a distraction. Omega crafts some really neat wreath pieces... then promptly locks on Orbot and Cubot, with Rouge getting blown away by the explosion from behind.

Their side collapses, leaving them all buried in the rubble after Omega's antics. Meanwhile, Team Rose is doing quite well for themselves, making pastries and a cake... out of veggies? I don't think I'd want to taste that, but hey, it does look nice. Okay, let's just give these two the win and move on.

During the interview, Sonic does feel bad about costing him and Tails the win. Rouge is annoyed that Omega cost her stealing the Chaos Emerald with his antics, while Omega gives her the most deadpan response about her judgement possible. Cream is promising that she will make a whole feast just like that cake, with Amy just giving everyone a nervous look. As for Big, he's just happy that he can have fun.

Next is Snowball Jam!, with the goal being to get an Eggman Doll to the finish line without it getting damaged by the other teams. We get a brief comment from Sonic on how creepy they look before turning to Team Rose as they attempt to escape the barrage of snowballs Omega is sending after them, managing to damage the Eggman Doll.

Next we have Team Sonic, with Sonic being confident that his super speed can get them the win, and while he avoids the snowballs, the Eggman Doll still get shredded because it can't handle his super speed. Team Big just gives up, not even wanting to deal with this, giving Team Dark an easy win.

We go back to the interview room, with Sonic slowly losing his mind over losing the competition and Tails asking Orbot to cut this part out. Orbot's like ''Nope!'', and let's be honest, if there's one thing that viewers like, it's the drama behind the scenes. That, and it's always good to see Sonic show more raw emotion.

Rouge and Omega are happy about their victory, Cream and Amy are fine since they gave their best, while Big notices that Froggy is kinda acting strange.

We have a time skip through several other challenges, with everyone being exhausted and completely done with this nonsense. The next challenge is Sculpt Jam!, where they have to create the best ice sculpture.

Sonic and Tails, despite being tired, still give their best, creating a really cute sculpture of both of them, being a reference to their Classic versions. The issue they run into, however, are the fact that they also sculpted the noodle limbs, causing the legs to crack and the whole thing to break down.

Sonic can only stare in shock as he falls on his knees, completely defeated in both mind and spirit. Orbot then comments how Eggman may have been onto something with this reality TV stuff if Sonic can break down like this.

While Team Dark and Team Rose are doing their own thing, Big is still confused by why Froggy is acting strange, only to for the frog to suddenly fire a laser blast at the ice block, creating a sculpture of a rather shapely Dr. Eggman holding the Chaos Emerald.

Orbot and Cubot panic, because let's be real, I doubt that Froggy should be capable of doing this.

They then reveal that Froggy is actually a production plant, much to everyone's shock (and Sonic's exasperation, although that may be because Amy's hugging him), while Rouge is trying to quietly sneak away. I do love how even the Badniks are shocked by this.

Cubot explains how Froggy wasn't captured, so they had to improvise and how this is the ''big, bad Badnik'' they used to bait Omega, which I find hysterical that they get called out on it.

Omega immediately locks on and just destroys the entire arena, while Rouge swipes the Chaos Emerald.

Eggman appears, pissed off about the ruckus, while Orbot and Cubot turn to the ''PRESS IF HECKED UP'' button.

This button launches all the contestants out of the Egg Base straight back into Green Hill, with Sonic once again face-planting and getting hit by the Chaos Emerald.

Eh, at least Big is happy that he found the real Froggy.

Tails notes how all's well that ends well, which makes more sense to be said in this kind of environment than a flooded Station Square, while Rouge notes how this was the most annoying way of getting a Chaos Emerald. Honestly, I thought it was hilarious.

Amy figures it was worth it, as we see Green Hill covered in snow and decorated. I assume that those are the remains of the Winter Jam, sent flying along with them. Sonic doesn't care, wanting to enjoy the moment while it lasts.

We then get a nice image of everyone playing in the snow, before cutting back to Eggman, who is annoyed that this was the culmination of all of his research.

He calls it garbage, deletes and destroys all of his ideas and Orbot and Cubot give each other a thumbs up, happy they got him to be more productive than just stare at the TV the whole day.

All in all, Winter Jam was pure hilarity and I loved seeing Sonic and co. being put through reality TV challenges just to see how they'd handle it, with a special shout-out to Sonic's nervous breakdown after losing his challenges.

With this, we end The Misadventures Arc, and while technically Fang the Hunter should be next on the list, it technically serves as a prequel to Sonic Superstars and I want to, for now, go through the main story instead of the Classic one.

In other words, our next arc is The Phantom Rider Arc, and I am excited to get into that one!

See ya!

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#Sonic the Hedgehog Analyzer #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #cream the rabbit #cheese the chao #big the cat #froggy #rouge the bat #e-123 omega #shadow the hedgehog #orbot and cubot #dr eggman #idw sonic

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mylove-thresher · 6 months ago

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Quite literally a 3AM thought but why do ppl never ever (or rarely) draw scars on giorno. I mean. A lot of ppl usually give fugo scars bc in phf he literally fucked himself up w the virus (poor retelling, I know), but he also got healed by golden experience (requiem (question mark) a while after, right? I don’t remember ever seeing golden experience leave behind scars after “healing” ppl. I mean, take mista (I talk ab him way too much I’m sorry 😭) as an example. He didn’t get any visually. So idk if it makes sense that fugo has scars in phf? (I could totally be wrong w all of this. I remember shit from phf. I didn’t even read it fully. I’m sorry I just can’t fucking read. You can jump me for not being well informed. 💔) Anyway, back to Giorno. If fugo gets scars despite getting “healed”, then why does giorno not even tho he lit replaced his eye, hands, throat, etc. Lil bro is Frankenstein(‘s monster) come on. You can draw cuh however u want but I’m actually surprised I’ve never seen too many scars on him like he probably should have. Maybe it’s bc he’s got that pristine clear skin all throughout the anime and manga BUT we also never saw phf fugo illustrated w scars (question mark) so like. I’m just wondering what tf is up w scars and no scars on characters. Keep drawing them however u want tho be silly chat :3 x3

#I don’t know why I thought of this. Actually chat don’t read this shit I don’t know what I was cooking #Do read tho…#I keep yapping sm lately wtf 😭#Yapatron yapper whapper made in yappsvile island of yap type shi #jjba #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #giorno giovanna #pannacotta fugo #(not tagging mista bc he’s not that important here (but he is. In my heart…))#yapping #Random thoughts #I guess I should mention phf #Phf #purple haze feedback

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teez-the-time · 2 years ago

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Choi San, Wolf Warrior

Pairing: Warrior! San x Chief's daughter! Fem! Reader

Genre: fantasy, action, romance, angst

Synopsis: Ten years ago, your best friend San promised his eternal love to you. Now, the danger of his oath creeps through the both of you, and he has to bear the weight of his words. No matter what his fate will be, you must remember that he is the Wolf Warrior.

Warnings: Blood, wounds, death (animals die, I'm so sorry), weapons, cursing, San is fucking RIPPED, reader doesn't do much (sorry again), way too much flashbacks and monologuing (sorry x3, but I do not know how to stop), sappy af.

Wc: 7.8k

Taglist: @darkdayelixer

A/N. Well, it's finally here. This is officially my first fanfic posted here. Do I believe this is my best work? No. Do I care? Maybe, but I appreciate any feedback that you might have (please take into account that English is not my first language, so I rely in grammar checkers and that stuff). I'm not sure if I should keep the second person format, but you tell me what you think. Again, I'm open to suggestions and kind criticism. If the story sucks, sorry not sorry.

Once again, I'm eternally gratefull for the support I've received in this platform. Whatever you need, my DMs are always open.

XOXO -May

A little treat for those who liked the story.

Your tribe had a sacred tradition.

The first hunt is the most sacred; dedicated to whom you thank your life for.

The best hunt is the most important; dedicated to whom you’d die for.

That is why you couldn’t help but tremble while looking at San down below.

Even if he had clearly announced his decision to embark on the journey no more than a couple of months ago, nothing could have prepared your heart.

Not even kneeling alongside your father and your mother at a higher ground, far away from where he stood, could you escape the power radiating from his stance. Even his posture was perfect; perfectly still and elegant, like a wolf just like the one he had marked with ink on his chest. His eyes looked up, and you knew your Sanie was long gone.

He was Choi San, the Wolf Warrior.

The drums started beating in an ancestral rhythm; one you had heard in too many unsuccessful attempts. Men and women below hollered and twirled their bodies to the music, almost in a spiritual trance brought by the excitement of the hunt. The sound got louder and louder in your chest, so hard that it felt like a second heart. Your hands were shaking and you couldn’t help the shivers that ran several times through your spine. You just kept praying for it to be over.

And just as they had started, the drums ceased as your father rose as the chief of the village. He, too, didn’t feel like your father anymore, his hierarchical title far outweighed the one of father right now. You couldn’t decipher his expression, no longer familiar to you.

“Choi San”, his voice boomed through the whole village, “why are you here today?”

To you, San didn’t look intimidated one bit. “I’ve returned to fulfill my promise made sixty-two days ago, in this very place.”

This was all part of the ceremony, nothing more than a formality, but your heart fluttered with San’s words. But still, you knew he was wrong. No, he didn’t make that promise sixty-two days prior. He had made it way before that when you both were young kids.

He had promised to marry you ten years ago, at age twelve.

But your father didn’t find it that endearing. “An oath like that can’t be made by anyone. Are you sure you will be able to keep it?”.

San didn’t fall for the taunting. “Absolutely, sir.”

“Are you sure? Do you even know the consequences?”

Everyone knew them, even more San. “Yes, sir. I know them.”

“Are you willing to go through them then? Even if it means your death?”

With that, San let out a grin. “Especially if it means my death…sir.”

Then, the chief let go of the mocking stance he had tried and became solemn again. For the briefest second, you had hoped San stepped down, but you also knew him like the back of your hand. You knew he never backed down from a challenge.

Your father cleared his throat. “Very well, then. Seeing your determination to proceed, I’ll remind you once more of the rules.”

The few whispers and hushed voices that had been going around since the start finally came to a halt. The newfound silence made your head spin and your palms shake even more.

Gods, you prayed, don’t let harm come to my San. Please give him my strength and my will if he needs them.

“Rule number one. You have only one chance. If it’s lost, it’s lost. Gone forever.”

“Rule number two. You will not receive aid from anyone or anything. The village will only intercede if the hunt doesn’t finish with the beast’s death.”

“Rule number three. You will only carry one weapon of your choice and no armor. Any of those will deem the attempt failed, and you will lose your only chance.”

“Rule number four. The hunt only stops after one of you is dead.”

While your father talked, San seemed unfazed. Even if he already knew the rules, it made you uneasy to not know what he was thinking. You felt the urge to run to where he stood, grab his hand, and smooth out the crease on his brow that always popped up when he was thinking hard.

You yearned for nothing more than to be by his side.

“Choi San,” now your father spoke in a warning tone, “dare to break the rules, and you will face consequences bigger than what you can imagine. I will make sure of that.”

Not once had San looked intimidated, and that put your heart at ease (just a tiny bit, if you are being honest).

“I understood perfectly, sir.” San had always respected your father as a chief, so he always tried to keep his composure despite the adrenaline in his veins making him want nothing more than to begin with the hunt. But he had to remain polite, especially now that he was trying to become his successor.

“Good,” the chief stated plainly. “If there’s nothing else to say…let the hunt begin!”

The drums resumed in a frenetic rhythm, making your heart race once more. Nevertheless, below where you sat, San seemed pumped by it. He let the thick fur coat he wore fall to the ground, exposing his naked torso and ripped pants. You knew he did it to prove he wore nothing to protect him, but you couldn’t the blush that crept to your cheeks.

“Holy shit, that was hot” you murmured unintentionally. You looked to your left to see if your parents heard. Your father didn’t appear to have listened to you, concentrated on his duty as referee, but your mother let out a snort. You shot her a glare and she tried to suppress her laughter.

Trying to appear unfazed, you looked back at San. He was now holding a beautiful sword, which you knew like the back of your hand. The hilt was golden and decorated with flowers and power symbols. A short inscription written at the butt.

Choi San, the Wolf Warrior.

It was barely more than his name, but San had spent a fortune having it engraved in the shape of your handwriting. You smiled at the memory of a sixteen-year-old San running to show you his new possession.

“Y/N! Y/N!” you heard your name being shouted from behind you. When you turned, it was San running towards you at full speed, holding a piece of fabric in his hands. He finally reached you, showing his dimpled smile. “Geez, why do you have those ears if you can't even listen when one is shouting at you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, shut it. Not my fault you are so out of breath that I couldn’t understand shit of what you were shouting.”

“I was not-!” He looked like he wanted to bicker, again, with you, but he cut himself short. “It doesn’t matter, look what I got!” He proceeded to remove part of the folded fabric, exposing a shiny object. The blade of a sword. You let out a gasp and he chuckled. “Beautiful, isn’t it? But there’s more.”

He uncovered the rest of the weapon, and your eyes fell on the golden inscription. The letters were masterfully carved on the metal, so much it took you a moment to realize it was written in your handwriting.

“Is this…?” You didn’t even finish your sentence, and San already knew what you were trying to say.

“Yes. Custom-made from the best welder in town. It cost me a fortune, but it’s worth it.” San was grinning like an idiot at what he thought was an accomplishment.

Nevertheless, that didn’t sit right with you (even though you couldn’t deny that your heart was racing like a horse). “Are you dumb?! Why are you spending your money on dumb things like this?”

Your heart broke a little when you saw his smile falter. “What are you saying? Of course, it’s not dumb!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it 's not!”

“I said, yes it is!”

He frowned and grabbed your hand. “No, it’s not. Wanna know why? Because every time I wield it and see the hilt, I’ll be reminded of what I have back home. That I have someone waiting for me to come back. My treasure.”

His words from back then still made you feel warm, and after that, you always felt proud seeing him carry that sword.

Your gaze is torn away from the weapon to San himself. He was pacing around the makeshift arena planned for these occasions, warming up his limbs. His eyes seemed to wander through the place, not focusing on anyone, until they fell on you. Despite the seriousness that had ruled his behavior up until that point, he gifted you one of his characteristic smiles, which turned his eyes into two small crescents. Even with the loud music coming from the drums, you heard some girls squeal from his gesture, and you laughed at that.

San always knew how to lighten up the mood of every situation.

He kept walking until his back was turned from you, which you took as a chance to admire his sculptured figure. While he had always made clear to whom his heart belonged, that didn’t keep people from falling in love with his god-like looks. His chiseled torso was littered with tattoos, going around his arms, neck, and ribs, in addition to the big wolf head on his chest he had gotten when he was nineteen (when he had absolutely begged you to come with him for moral support).

His body was also covered in scars, mostly from battle wounds and hunting accidents. Some looked old and faded, while others appeared more recent. You knew each of them fully, seeing that you were the only one San let tend to him during those times. When he lowered his arms, you got a glimpse of his most famous one, which he bore on his left forearm. The one that earned him the title of Wolf Warrior, back when he was just twelve.

You stood waiting, just a few meters from the edge of the forest the boys had gone into a few days prior. Many of them had already returned and were celebrating all around you. But, still, there was no sign of San’s return.

You had accompanied San’s parents to wait for San to return from his ritual first hunt. For your people, this marked the beginning of manhood; a rite of passage from boys to men. It was the first time each of the boys would go hunting on their own, and they wouldn’t be allowed to come back without a prize. This ceremony was reserved for only the closest people in the boy’s life, but San’s parents had asked you to come since you were his best friend (and practically their niece, being their best friends’ daughter).

“It’s getting late, again,” San’s father said, and he was right. The sky was turning red and purple with the last lights of the day. Another day without San. “It’s only been three days, so it might still be early for him to return.”

“But most of the boys have come back,” his mother noted. She bit her lip, looking at the forest. Then, she looked at the grass and let out a sigh. “I guess you are right, we can wait another day.”

They moved to leave but stopped when they saw you hadn’t gone with them. “Y/N, let’s go home.”

You wanted to wait just a bit more. Just to be sure San wouldn’t come back that day. “I want to wait a few more minutes. If you want, you can go ahead and I’ll go back when I’m done. There are plenty of other parents here, so don’t worry about me!”

They didn’t look convinced, but they still let you. “Fine, but come back running to us if something happens.”

You waved them goodbye, but before long had passed, you saw some bushes rustle. You squinted to make sure your vision didn’t betray you, and a large figure emerged from the last line of trees. A scream rose to your throat when you saw the thick fur, but it soon died down when you saw the person carrying the furry mass.

“It’s San! It's San!” you shouted back at the distant figures of San’s parents. Thankfully, they had heard you, and they were sprinting back to your position. You ran behind them but stayed back when you saw them embrace their son.

“My son, my son is alright!” his mother repeated while holding him in her arms. Her husband embraced both of them without saying anything, but his face showed the relief he felt.

He is supposed to have returned a man, you thought while looking at the sweet scene, but they will still treat him like their baby.

“San is back!” you heard another boy say, “San came back from the hunt! But…what did he bring back though?”

That seemed to return San and his parents to reality. The ceremony wasn’t finished, as he still hadn’t presented his prize. They untangled themselves from their son and stepped back, allowing him to regain composure. It was then that you could finally see San clearly for the first time. He was soiled in mud, part of his clothes were tattered, and he had several scratches on his face, neck, and arms, but he didn’t seem bothered by them. He looked exhausted, on the verge of collapse even.

“San, my son,” his dad called out to him, “what have you brought from the hunt?”

San looked back at the big leather bag he had dropped with his parents' hug attacked. From the opening, a lot of fur spilled out without a clear form. “My prey was difficult to catch, that’s why I’m late. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Sanie,” his mother reassured him but, to you, she looked nervous. “It doesn't matter what it is, just that you are here. Have you decided who you will offer it to?”

You smiled at your friend. Even if you had stood back all this time to let the Choi family have their moment, you were overjoyed at seeing your best friend take part in one of the most important challenges in his life, and you would have given anything to run to his arms. Nevertheless, you stood back and contented yourself with giving him your usual reassuring smile (also, you couldn’t deny that you were madly curious to see to whom he would give his hunt, although knowing him, it was probably his parents).

Somehow, when you caught San’s eye, he didn’t relax. On the contrary, he stepped back from his parents' embrace and clutched his bag, never releasing tension. “Yes. Yes, I have.”

Mr. and Mrs. Choi held hands, seeing their now-grown son make an important decision. You also squealed in delight, cheering on your friend as he threw the bag over his shoulder with effort. He walked towards his parents and…ignored them?

Your confusion grew as he walked past his parents in your direction. You looked behind yourself, just to see no one. San kept approaching you until he stood merely two feet away. At that distance, you had a better view of all his injuries, especially the gnarly cut on his left forearm.

“Oh my god, Sanie!” you let out, closing the distance to grab his injured arm. “You need to get that treated immediately. It’s going to scar!”

Tension seemed to lift from his shoulders as San heard your typical nagging. He grabbed your wrist back and unlatched your fingers from his arm. “That’s not important right now!”

“What do you mean-!”

“It’s not,” he cut you off. Stepping back a little, he put the bag back on the ground, letting it fall with a loud thud. “This is what’s important right now”.

He opened it completely, a gray furry mass spilling out partially. San kept grabbing and pulling, freeing the animal from the cramped space. Once it was completely out, you let out a scream.

An enormous wolf was looking back at you.

“San, what the hell!” you stumbled back from the shock. “You brought a whole ass wolf?! Are you allowed to give that thing to someone?”

Sanie beamed his boyish smile. He grabbed the animal by the scruff, not raising from his kneeling position, and offered it to you. “I’m not giving it to ‘someone’. I, Choi San, from the Choi family, present my most sacred achievement to you, whom I most treasure and thank for in life”.

Your memory was shattered by the piercing shriek that resonated through the arena, making you clutch your necklace (made from the wolf’s teeth) in fear. It sounded like straight out of your nightmares.

The rumble of heavy steps only confirmed your worst fears.

San was looking directly at the forest line, where the noises were coming from. He stood his ground as a couple of trees fell and many shook with violence. The shouts of other men could be heard as they came closer and closer. Finally, before the whole tribe appeared a creature that left you nauseous.

Four enormous green and scaly legs carried an even bigger body; as tall as the tallest building in your village. The scales shone under the harsh sunlight and were thick enough to compare to an iron armor. Its talons tore through the hard soil like it was mere sand. Its lack of wings didn’t make it less intimidating; on the contrary, it warned its prey of its prowess on land. But it wasn’t the size, the fangs, the talons of the scales that paralyzed your body.

It was the eyes.

For the briefest moment, your gaze connected with the dragon’s. Its eyes glowed red with a primal fury you had only seen on a cornered animal, waiting to fight back if only to cause damage to its hunter before its ultimate demise. That look raised every hair on your body.

The dragon continued to shriek and thrash against the chains that the men, whom you recognized as San’s best friends, held tightly. They were being overpowered by the creature’s brute force, but they still held on for their friend’s chance at having the best prize the village would ever see.

All for you.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” San had turned to the crowd, “let the best hunt our people have ever witnessed in our long history begin!”

The sound of chains hitting the ground was almost drowned by the roar of your people. Once the beast was free, it lounged at full speed at San, forgetting about his other captors, hissing and letting its venom drip on the floor. An involuntary scream was ripped from your throat as you stood from your kneeling position.

“San, run!” you screamed moving forward, but a heavy hand on your shoulder stopped you from going further. It was your father’s.

“No, you stay here,” he demanded.

“Father, you have to stop this,” you pleaded at him. “This is madness! San can’t fight on his own against that!”

But your father was unmoving. “No, this is the challenge he chose, and he must accept his fate.”

“You don’t believe that,” your tone was dark, “at least not with San. Do you want your best friends’ child to die a stupid death? Do you want my best friend to die a stupid death?! Because I wi-!”

While he had remained emotionless during all the ceremony, now he looked furious. “(Y/N), compose yourself for gods’ sake!”

“But-”

“Your feelings do not matter right now, only San’s. He is down there, risking his life only for you to look at him. He chose this, no one else, and what he needs the most right now is your support. Do you understand?”

You understood, and those were the words you needed to sober up. Regardless of your feelings, whether you thought he was being reckless or not, San was fighting for the acceptance of your love in the eyes of your village. He didn’t need you to doubt him, he needed you to be by his side. Not to mention that he would be upset that you doubted his strength.

Until that moment, San had managed to evade all of the dragon’s attacks, opting for taking a defensive stance. The strength and size difference between them was abysmal, so the fate of either would be reduced to who could endure the chase for the longest. A battle of attrition.

The dragon charged at full speed once more, and San stood his ground, sword in front of him. The beast had almost reached him, when San dodged at the last second, managing to slash the tendon of one of its talons, but his arm brushed against one of its scales. Blood began to gush out of the wound, but he paid no mind to it. The battle was far from over, and he was determined to be the last one standing. He owed it to himself, and you.

For what seemed hours (and probably were), you saw San run around the arena, dodging attacks and inflicting more on his opponent. He was visibly injured, having been hit numerous times by the sharp weapons of the dragon, and caked on blood and mud. Nevertheless, the dragon itself wasn’t in a much better state; San had managed to slash open the tendons of three out of the four legs, and it had trouble moving at a fast speed. The sturdy sword of San had also pierced the thick armor of the beast, leaving big wounds on its sides and belly.

Dragons were magnificent creatures. They were perfectly designed to withstand almost all types of damage, being covered in those solid scales that rivaled metal. Some had enormous wings that they used to soar the skies of their vast territories, some breathed fire and ice. Many explorers even claimed that some races could even understand human language. From those many tales, it was expected to believe these beasts were invincible. However, what not many knew was that dragons did have a weakness, a physical one even. Under the sturdy chunks of armor on the chest, just at the area where the heart would’ve been located, the scales were more fragile, soft enough to let a blade penetrate the skin and kill the creature. Not many knew of this weak spot due to the difficulty of even getting close to a dragon, let alone surviving the encounter. Not many knew of it, except for San.

He could see that the dragon was getting tired from constantly playing the offensive. The blood loss was weighing it down, making its attacks slower and weaker, and San wasn’t easy prey to catch. He had been getting closer and closer to the one spot that would lead him to victory. The plan was to make the dragon bleed as much as possible, before ending it all in one move. He wasn’t much fan of making his prey suffer, but neither he was of getting his head bit off (leaving you practically widowed).

San kneeled for a moment, taking a breather as the dragon hissed at a new wound he made near its tail. His own injuries were also slowing him down, although the adrenaline kept him moving. He knew he couldn’t keep up much longer, and it was time to put an end to the battle while he still had the strength to continue.

It was time for the last act.

You saw San muster up the strength to stand up. You had lost count of how many times he was close to finally hunting down the dragon, so now you prayed that he just kept inflicting cuts on the beast until it finally died from blood loss. However, something was different in San. He seemed more confident this time, and you knew what it meant. San was now playing the offensive.

In half a second, San had banished from where he had been standing. Your eyes found him again a few meters closer to the dragon, sprinting at full speed directly towards him. The animal had taken notice of your friend, and stood firmly on its four legs, waiting to rip his head off his body. When San was directly in front of it, the dragon raised on its hind legs, as if to gather full force to strike down on the man and end the fight. You let out a gasp.

It was a fatal mistake.

Instead of stopping as the dragon had expected, San slid underneath it, raising his sword as the creature threw itself down full force. You blinked. One moment, the dragon had been roaring in victory and, in the next one, it was shuddering as it had impaled itself directly into San’s blade. The last remnants of life escaped in convulsions from the body of the beast, and it collapsed unceremoniously into the ground, a mere carcass of the magnificent animal it had been before. The crowd went quiet for the death of a splendid being.

You couldn’t care less for the animal. You couldn’t see San, so you were beginning to be worried that he had been crushed under the weight of the dragon. Your eyes frantically searched for him, until a figure emerged from beside the dead body. San was drenched in blood and struggled to breathe. He had never let go of the sword.

It was the true sight of a legendary hero.

San raised his hand and tried to wipe away some of the blood off his face, which made you chuckle as it was also covered in blood. Realizing the futility of that, he desisted and, instead, looked down on his weapon. He smiled at the inscription and grabbed it with his two hands. In one swift movement, he stabbed the chest of the dragon once more. You frowned in confusion as he kept stabbing and cutting through the body of the beast, as it was already dead, leaving a carnage behind. Behind you, a couple of old men were discussing the useful properties of all the organs and parts of the dragon and how they would have used them, but you couldn’t care less about that. At last, San seemed to find what he was looking for and dropped the sword. He plunged his hands into the hole he had made (which made you gag a little if you were being honest) and pulled out something. Everyone around you let out a collective gasp.

San was holding a dragon’s heart. A heart made out of pure gold.

Your jaw went slack. The heart was huge, as it belonged to a huge creature, and probably weighed a considerable amount. Nevertheless, San held it with the remaining strength he had. You couldn’t start to fathom the value of such rarity, much less the fact that it was now yours. The crowd cheered as he raised the piece over his head; a sign that declared him the victor.

Having basked in glory long enough, San secured a grip on the golden heart and began the ascent towards where you still kneeled beside your father and mother. It wasn’t that long of a distance, but carrying a heavy object after hours of battle sure was harsh on his body. Despite the ache, he continued to advance.

Your mother reached out for you, smiling as she grabbed your hand affectionately. "He did it! He did it! Finally, you can marry San!"

Finally.

You glanced down at San once more. The grown man that just killed a dragon looked nothing like the kid from ten years ago.

"Marry me". San blurted out of nowhere. The sudden request startled you, making you accidentally press on his wound. "Ouch! Be careful, you idiot!"

You felt offended. "Me? An idiot? You are the dumbass that proposes to someone while they are cleaning your wound. I should let your arm rot for being an idiot and reckless on your first hunt!"

He glared at you. "You wouldn't dare…"

"Try me."

He didn't reply, and you fell into a comfortable silence. San had dragged you away from the banquet his family had prepared on account of his newly acquired "manhood", complaining how his arm hurt from not being properly treated and he needed you to do it for him. Now you sat on a small hut next to his house, illuminated by a small candle, jars of ointments and gauzes lying on the floor beside your forms.

San watched as you applied another cream to his arm. "You didn't answer".

You didn't look at him, focused on treating him. "You didn't ask anything". Before he could hit you with a reply, you added "Besides, we can't get married".

That seemed to upset him. "Why not? We know each other perfectly, and our parents as best friends. I'm sure they would accept it".

You laughed at his naïveness. "It's not about approval. Marriage is for people that love each other".

Now, San just seemed confused. "But we love each other. We say it all the time".

"We love each other," you conceded, "but we aren't in love with each other". San's expression remained confused, so you tried to explain it in another way. "You and I love each other as brother and sister, and we act as such. People that get married treat the other as…well…lovers. They spend time together, they share stuff, they hold hands, they kiss. They swear to be with each other until death. They take care of each other. Forever!"

Your explanation didn't convince San. "But, don't we already do that? Minus the kissing, of course. Wouldn't that mean we are in love?"

The mere thought of being in love with San sent your prepubescent brain into short-circuit. It repulsed you in some way, as you had only looked at him as a brother, but you couldn't deny the butterflies in your stomach.

"No, it doesn't," you exclaimed. "Also, people that get married first become girlfriend and boyfriend! You can't be my boyfriend!"

San also looked repulsed at the sound of that word. "Ew, no! I don't want a girlfriend".

"See, that's why we can't get married".

"I don't want a girlfriend," his eyes burned holes in your head, "but I still think it would be nice if we got married. We already promised to be in each other's life forever and I care for you, so I don't think it'd make much difference".

You briefly looked back at him and rolled your eyes, grabbing a roll of gauze. "Why are you even thinking about that, Sanie? Marriage is an adult thing. We are twelve-year-old kids!"

"Speak for yourself! This proves I'm a grown man", he pointed at the wound, grinning. You shot him an amused look, opting for saying nothing and continuing with your job. It didn't take much time for San to break the silence yet again. "I guess all this new 'adulthood' stuff got me thinking about this new chapter of my life and-"

"Mhm"

"-all the things I can do now. Somehow that ended up in my thinking about marriage and how would it feel to get married to someone you like, you know?"

"Yes, yes".

"Then I thought of who I would marry, and I thought of you. Since all that best friend shit is basically the same shit you described, but if you say it's different, I guess it is. Either way, we should wait a little more before that, to think matters better and decide if-"

Oh, no. San had started rambling. "Sanie! What on gods' sake are you trying to say?!"

"What age do you think is the most appropriate to get married?" He looked dead serious now.

You finished dressing the wound, and threw your tools on the ground, exasperated by San's strange behavior. "I don't know! I already said that marriage is for adults!"

"Well, then at what age did your parents get engaged?"

You loved the story of how your parents go together, so it was an easy question. “Oh, my father proposed to my mother when he was twenty-two and she wa-”

San beamed as he interrupted you once more. “Perfect! Then my proposal will be suspended until then. I will ask you again when I turn twenty-two. That way I’ll give you time to fall in love with me, or whatever it is that you need.”

All the previous conversations had proven fruitless again and again, so it was better to leave things as they were, hoping that soon San would move to other subjects.

“Fine, whatever. We’ll probably have forgotten it by then”.

Except, he did not. And neither did you. On the contrary. With time, you had grown fond of your best friend, leaving behind the innocent affections of childhood to make place for the blossoming feelings of romantic love. Where you were hesitant to express these feelings, he openly did to anyone and anything willing to listen. He wanted you and only you. It wasn’t only the grand moments of expressed admiration that made you fall for him, but the quiet moments of thoughtfulness that instilled your devotion for him.

When he carried your things without a word, even if he knew you were perfectly capable of doing it on your own. When he held your hand as you walked through more deserted parts of the village. When you would silently work on the injuries he would bring home, never asking how he got them. When you would hold each other, letting the other shed their tears, just basking in each other’s comfort.

All those moments paved the way for the unspoken transformation of your relationship. You were neither friends nor lovers. No words could describe the depth of your understanding of each other. So, for you and the rest of the world, you were simply “Y/N and San”.

And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

As usual in any other important celebration, San had dragged you away from everybody. This time, it was his birthday and, although he loved being with his friends and family, he wanted to spend time alone with you. As you both grew, so did your responsibilities, yours as the daughter of the village chief and San’s as the strongest member, so there were periods where your time together was limited.

As soon as you were decently away from the rest of the party, San had taken you in his arms in a warm embrace. You inhaled his scent. He smelled like home. You didn’t question what was up with the sudden display of affection, you knew he would let you know in time. He was never one to keep quiet for much time.

“Marry me”.

He hadn’t forgotten. San was a man of his word.

“Today I turn twenty-two,” he told you, as if you weren’t currently celebrating that fact, “it’s the day I’m finally asking you to be mine”.

Your heart threatened to escape your ribcage from pure glee. “I’ve always been yours, Sanie. Since the day you first asked.”

You felt his smile as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Thank you, thank you. You know that I belong to you too. I’ll take care of you, so good. Every day, all day. And you won’t be able to get rid of me”.

You chuckled. “I don’t know about that. You can barely take care of yourself”.

“But it’s different since I don't care about myself, only about my treasure”.

For longer, you remained like you were. Many breaths passed before any of you said anything.

“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow,” he announced, shattering the moment, “it won’t be for too long and the guys are coming with me”.

“Leaving? To where?” you asked, confused.

“As much as I’d love to stay with my beautiful fiancée,” you loved how the title sounded coming from him, “I have to bring her a pretty hunting trophy, so she can boast to the whole town about having the strongest boyfriend to ever live”.

You stayed silent. Even if you wanted San to forgo tradition and stay with you, you knew he wasn’t in an easy position. As the chief’s daughter, you didn’t require him to only fulfill the role of the husband. By marrying you, he would automatically become the next in line for the position of chief, as you had no male relatives that could assume it. Thus, he needed to prove himself worthy of you and the whole village.

The very next day, he announced to your community his intentions of marrying you and becoming head of the village. The day after that, he was gone.

Sixty-two days had passed since you last felt his warmth, so when he stood before you, still covered in blood and grime, holding his heart (well, not his in a strict manner), you itched to extend your hand to his cheek and wipe the exhaustion away.

Once more, the ceremonial drums stopped after hours of incessant banging. It was time for your father to speak.

“Choi San,” he called out to your lover, “Ten years ago, when you were barely a man, I bestowed you the title of ‘Wolf Warrior’, which has been reserved for the strongest of our kind, in hopes that you would use it to protect and serve our people. Despite that great honor, you have used that same title and strength to recklessly endanger our home by bringing a dragon for mere spectacle. Had things gone askew, it wouldn’t have been just your life that we would have lost, but many others”.

After the little speech he gave you about trusting San, you were surprised by the harsh scolding your father was giving San in front of other people. Nevertheless, you understood his position as responsible for the village.

“However, on this day you have achieved a feat none of our ancestors could compare to. The tale of the man who single-handedly slew an adult dragon with just a sword will be told by many generations to come, under the title of ‘Choi San, the Dragon Warrior’; title I am to bestow you and will only belong to you. But I’m afraid names and merits would be meaningless if the intent behind them isn’t honored”.

Your father paused briefly before resuming. “Time and time again, you have proven your worth as a man beyond the power of his sword. Your contributions to the safekeeping of our people speak for themselves, and any reward would be in order as compensation for your service. However, I know you seek not money or fame, but something deeper than that.

“Choi San. I’ve seen you and Y/N grow into the splendid adults you are today. I’ve seen your care for each other and your understanding of each other. After today, I do no doubt that there is no better man for my daughter, and no better one to succeed me when I am no longer able. Therefore, I declare successful your attempt and bless the union between the two of you”.

Your heart soared higher than the sky above you. You could have broken your neck with how fast you whipped your head to look back at San, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

San. San. Sanie.

He was on one knee on the ground before you. The golden heart sat on the floor in front of him, displayed as an offering to you. He held his hands open, waiting for you to take them. You did so, standing up and grabbing his fingers, not caring one bit that they were still covered in grime. San looked at you intensely, wanting you to look at him and only him. Now and for the rest of your lives.

“My treasure,” he spoke so softly as if you were going to shatter if he spoke any louder, “from my very first breath, everything I’ve done has been for you and only you. My first thoughts in the morning and my last ones before bed are of you, and even in my sleep I see you next to me. Every beat of my heart is for you, until the last of them. But, even then, there are no words to describe how deeply I love you”.

Your lips quivered, but you broke into a teary smile nonetheless. “Oh, Sanie. If you keep going, I’m afraid I will cry for real”.

“Don’t worry,” he gripped your hands tighter, “I will be here to wipe away all of them”. San planted a kiss on your knuckles before continuing. “Ever since I was a child, I knew it was you who I wanted to be with for the rest of my life, even if you disliked the idea of that. I knew it had to be me who had to be there in your moments of joy, as well as your moments of sadness. It had to be me who cared for you when you weren’t able to care for yourself and be by your side when you didn’t want anyone else. It doesn’t have to be me, but I want it to be me”.

You swore you could hear some girls sigh behind you, and you couldn’t relate more to that.

“Today I, Choi San of the Choi family, offer you the best of me. I present to you this prize as an offering of my heart, my body, and my soul, which from now on are yours to dispose of. If you wish to accept it, and therefore accept me, I’ll belong to you for the rest of eternity. If you let me be by your side, I’ll do my best to care for you, and not even water will touch your hands. These words will be true, whether you accept my offerings or not since it’s only to you I wish to lay my life for”.

With a last kiss to your hands, he brought them up and rested his forehead on them. The tips of his ears appeared slightly red and his own hands trembled. You knew your Sanie enough to recognize he was equally nervous and embarrassed (which he had nothing to feel shame for, as he had said cheesier things under the influence of liquor).

You rubbed your thumbs on the back of his hand, hoping to soothe his nerves. “Rise, my young warrior. A man like you should be kneeling for nobody”.

He didn’t stand up. “But you aren’t ‘nobody’, my love. You are my strength and my will”.

This man will be the death of me, you laughed to yourself.

“And you are the most stubborn man I’ve ever encountered,” you poked at him. You tugged firmly at your intertwined hands, signaling that you needed him to get back on his feet, “and I’m afraid that you won’t be able to hear my words properly from down there”.

That made him look up to you once more, and finally stand up from the ground. This time, you didn’t hold yourself back from letting go of his fingers to remove a piece of hair from San’s eyes. Your own ones lingered a while longer, just to find themselves cupping his cheek. San snuggled up to your palm instinctively, reminding you of a cat.

“My love,” San closed his eyes and sighed at the name, “you have fought so bravely for the both of us. Not just today, but for a very long time. It is me who should be thanking you for brightening my life with just your presence, and for never giving up on me. We’ve had our highs and lows, but there’s no time of my life that I can remember without you being present. You too have had full ownership of my heart since the very beginning, and it is not my desire for you to relinquish your rights to it”.

“I too want to be the one who cares for you when you aren’t able to fend for yourself. I too want to be who you come to when you have wounds to heal. I want to be who you wake up to every morning, and who you sleep next to every night. I want to be the source of your strength and your place of rest; to protect your heart from harm and your mind from turmoil.”

“My Sanie, for as long as you let me, I will be yours, and even further than that if you decide you love me no more. Everything I have, I will share with you. Where you go, I will go. Whom you love I will love, and whom you despise I will despise. There’s nothing that will give me greater joy than to be yours. So I, Y/N, accept this prize as a symbol of my love and the union that will bind us from now on”.

You had barely finished when you found yourself spinning in the air, San’s hands grabbing you firmly by your waist. You finally let out tears of joy and looked down to see that he was crying too. San put you back on the ground, but never let you go. On the contrary, he pulled you towards him in the biggest hug. One of his hands held you by the waist, while the other rested on the back of your head. Your forehead hid on the crook of his neck, and your hands moved restlessly across his broad back. The drums now played a happy beat and people danced for the new couple. From the corner of your eyes, you could see your parents and San’s embracing each other, finally together as a family.

“My love, my love, my love,” San whispered in your ear, unable to stop repeating those words.

“My Sanie,” you whispered back, “I’m sorry I made you wait for so long”.

“Nothing of that matters now,” he reassured you, “I could have waited longer if it meant I’d have you at the end.”

“You always know what to say,” you joked. “Always the hopelessly romantic idiot”

“You are right. But now I’m your idiot”.

“No, you are my husband”.

San stopped all movement before slightly pushing you away from him. He held your gaze for a couple of seconds before grabbing your face with a smirk adorning his lips. “Hell yeah, I am”.

He leaned down and captured your lips in a heart-stopping kiss. Your brain melted to mush and you could only think about him, surrounding every part of you.

San. San. Sanie.

The world could have ended at that very moment, and neither of you would have cared. Not when you had each other in every sense of the word, cause that is all that mattered. You and him.

Y/N and San.

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