#so i think it makes sense to be clear when they are talking about the characters

[mononijikayu]

until i found you — ryomen sukuna.

"I figured you’d be into something more... aggressive music." you admitted, watching as he leaned back, arms crossed, listening intently. He scoffed. "What, you think I only listen to music that makes me wanna fight people?" "...Yes?" "Tch. Idiot." He turned his attention back to the music, tapping his fingers idly against his knee. "This one’s alright. But Tchaikovsky’s better." Your jaw dropped. "Wait, you like Tchaikovsky?" "Yeah? And what?" You shook your head in disbelief. "I just... I wouldn’t have guessed." "What, you think I don't have taste?" "I know you don’t have taste."

Genre: Alternate Universe — College! AU;

Warning/s: Short Fic, General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/No Hurt, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Teasing, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Swearing, Violence, Depiction of Violence, Mention of Violence, Volleyball Captain! Sukuna, Boyfriend! Sukuna, Girlfriend! Reader;

Words: 8.6k words.

Note: i'm so sorry for the delay on the satosugu fic, the time frame of my schedule is not allowing me to go and finish it. its going to be delayed. as my apology, please enjoy this litle thing from me. also, im opening commissions, so if you wanna commission me, look here!!! in any case, i love you all so much. see you soon <3

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lovesick playlist

IT WAS NOT LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT LIKE EVERYONE THINKS IT IS.  Not all love stories were meant to be that, after all. But it was interesting nonetheless that it was how you got to know about him for the first time.

The first thing you heard from where you stood was that rather brutish hit of impact. A dull, sickening thud followed by a sharp grunt of pain.

The loud and rowdy crowd that had gathered near the school gate was already thick by the time you arrived. At the back where you stood, their voices a mix of eager whispers and nervous gasps.

A fight wasn’t uncommon near the school, there were quite a lot of delinquents in your school. Even the teachers were wanting to stay clear of it. But the sheer energy in the air told you this wasn’t just any fight. 

You pushed up on your toes trying to see above all these tall figures, craning your neck to see past the wall of uniformed backs. And that’s when you spotted him. Your eyes couldn’t help but widen at the sight you were seeing now. 

That pink haired standing tall above that guy.

His name escaped you, but you’ve heard of him. His name carried weight even in places he had never stepped foot in. If anything, it brought chills to people’s spines. The goosebumps were always felt just at the mention of his name, just as much as fear echoes when you catch his darkened eyes. You’ve never seen him before, that was for sure. But you’ve heard of him. And he had quite the name. 

This is what your friends were talking about. This is a delinquent in the purest sense—not the kind that smoked behind the gym and skipped class for fun, but the kind who sent people to the hospital and still walked away with that damned smirk on his face. And he was smirking now.

Even with the blood bellowing down on his lip, the brutally raw scrape on his knuckles ensuing through each punch, the loose tie hanging off his collar. You could tell he just really looked bored.

That had surprised you more than anything, if you were being honest. You thought that this would at least feel like a thrill for him. Violence usually feels like that. You would have thought a delinquent would feel that way.

Yet it was like he was toying with the guy in front of him, who was hunched over helplessly, clutching his ribs and struggling to breathe at the act of being beaten down by the fiend in front of him.

And still, it was the most uninteresting thing he’s ever found himself doing. This fuschia haired young boy seemed so bored at the prospect of this kid not being able to fight back, or be interesting.

“Oi.” Sukuna drawled, tilting his head as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You done already? That’s pathetic.”

The other guy barely managed to lift his head before the fuschia haired kid moved—fluid, effortless, the kind of speed that made it clear this wasn’t just some reckless brawl. His fist collided with the guy’s jaw, sending him staggering back into the school gate with a loud clang.

“I thought you’d have more fun fighting, huh? You were having so much fun staring at a girl’s skirt just a bit, weren’t you? Come on, you prick. Get up!” 

Somewhere in the crowd, someone flinched. 

Someone else muttered a curse under their breath.

And you—you just stared at what was happening in front of you.

It wasn’t just the violence that had you frozen. It was the way he carried himself, the sheer audacity in every motion. He wasn’t just winning. He was playing over and over again like it was a game, even if it wasn’t. Like a predator dragging out the inevitable just because he could. And he wanted to hunt, he wanted to eat the weak from down under his feet. 

Then, his scarlet gaze lifted.

For a single, breathless second, your eyes met.

A slow, deliberate shift came about him. It was like he had known you were watching the entire time but only now decided to acknowledge it. The corner of his mouth curled upward, something dark and knowing twisting in his expression.

He had noticed you.

A strange heat crawled up your spine, a mix of adrenaline and unease. You weren’t sure what unnerved you more. The fact that he had seen you, or the fact that you couldn’t look away.

 His gaze had been fleeting. It was just a flicker of recognition before he turned back to his opponent. Yet, the fight wasn’t over.

And for some reason, you got the feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time Ryomen Sukuna looked your way. The thought made something tighten in your chest. Then all that was left was a a sharp crack.

A dull, sickening thud as his beaten opponent hit the pavement, groaning in pain. You barely had time to process it as you held your breath, before someone beside you finally snapped out of their stunned daze.

“Someone there, please go and call the teachers to break up the fight!”

The voice jolted you back to reality. A murmur rippled through the crowd—some of the students were panicked, the others seemed to be too excited, some already pulling out their phones and calling help, some were taking a video. 

But that pink haired kid? 

He just laughed.

Low, rough, full of something almost thrilled as he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, like the fight had barely warmed him up. The poor bastard groaned, barely managing to lift his head before slumping back down.

“You done?” he asked, gaze dropping to the guy on the ground.

The pink haired kid merely scoffed, brushing dust off his uniform before turning away, completely unbothered. Then his gaze flickered up again. Right at you. It barely lasted only a second. But it was intentional. Like he was acknowledging you. Marking you.

And just like that, with teachers finally rushing onto the scene, that kid with the pink hair turned on his heel and walked off, slipping through the growing chaos like he hadn’t just left another name to fear in his wake. You exhaled, stomach tight, fingers curled into your sleeves.

You should forget this. Forget him.

But you knew—deep down, you wouldn’t.

And something told you that he wouldn’t, either.

══════════════════

YOU WERE SURE THAT THIS WAS GOING TO BE YOUR PEACEFUL TIME. After all, the school rooftop was supposed to be empty during lunch time. Lately, it has been your sanctuary after a long morning of back to back classes.

It was the one place you could escape to when the noise of everything became too much, when the dull routine of school felt suffocating. Up here, the wind was sharp, the air felt clearer, and for just a little while, you could be alone.

But today, someone else was here.

Someone wasn’t supposed to be there.

Yet you can tell someone up there from just the slit of the door.

You quickly noticed him the moment you stepped through the rooftop door. It was a figure sprawled across the concrete near the fence, arms behind his head, one knee bent, the other leg lazily extended.

Even before you fully registered who it was, your body tensed, instincts screaming at you to retreat. But then your eyes landed on his face, and your breath caught in your throat. That kid from the fight on the first day.

Wait, what the hell? You think to yourself almost panicked. Why is he here?

You tried to remember his name for a moment, racking your brain.

That’s right! You gasped quietly to yourself. It’s Ryomen. Ryomen Sukuna. That’s what his name was!

Even asleep, he looked like trouble. His uniform was rumpled, the first few buttons undone, his tie discarded somewhere beside him. A faint cut graced his cheekbone. It seems to be fresh, like he had gotten into another fight earlier but couldn’t be bothered to clean up before crashing here. He must have been exhausted from the fight.

You should leave. You really should. The last thing you needed was to get caught in his orbit. But the thought of giving up your quiet retreat made frustration coil in your stomach. So, with careful, measured steps, you sat down a few feet away, placing your lunch in your lap and making sure to keep your movements silent. Maybe—just maybe—if you were lucky, he wouldn’t wake up.

You weren’t lucky. It happened in an instant. A low breath, a subtle shift. Then, his scarlet eyes snapped open. A cold, sinking weight settled in your chest as your gaze locked with his.

It was the first time you had ever seen his eyes up close. 

They weren’t just sharp, they were dangerous. It was like a blade that glinted under the light, beautiful in its lethality. There was no haze of sleep in them, no confusion. Just silent, unwavering awareness. A predator waking to find someone in its space. His gaze flicked over you, slow and deliberate, before settling back on your face.

“…...The hell are you staring at?” His voice was rough from sleep, low and edged with irritation.

You stiffened, fingers tightening around your chopsticks. Your brain scrambled for a response, something that wouldn’t make this worse. “…Nothing.”

His thick brow twitched. For a second, you thought he might call you out on your lie. But he seemed too tired to even care. Ryomen Sukuna let out a lazy scoff, stretching his arms over his head with a bone-popping crack before settling back down.

“Tch. Whatever.”

And just like that, he closed his eyes again.

You blinked. That was it?

No sneering remarks? No challenge?

The tension in your chest didn’t ease, but the kid didn’t seem to care about your presence anymore. Like you weren’t worth his energy. Like you were barely an afterthought.

The wind carried the distant sound of the school bell ringing in the distance, signaling the lunch break was halfway over. You forced yourself to exhale, slow and steady, before finally peeling open your lunch box.

Maybe, just maybe, you could still eat in peace.

But something told you this wasn’t the last time your paths would cross.

And that thought was far more unnerving than you wanted to admit.

You tried to ignore him.

Tried to focus on your lunch, on the way the wind ruffled your uniform, on the distant sounds of students laughing below. Anything but the fact that Ryomen Sukuna was still there, barely a few feet away, resting like he owned the entire rooftop.

But no matter how much you tried to tune him out from the background as you ate, the weight of his presence lingered. It was like a storm cloud on the horizon, waiting to crack open.

The silence just continued to stretch through the blowing winds. Then, you felt a shift. A quiet, subtle rustling of fabric as the fuschia haired kid turned his head slightly, cracking one eye open in your direction.

“You always eat up here?”

You faltered mid-bite. “Huh?”

His tone wasn’t particularly interested in what you were doing or why you were here, but the fact that he was speaking to you at all was… unsettling. Everything about this moment just felt too tense, it was making your stomach spin. A moment passed before you swallowed and forced yourself to respond. 

“…Yeah.” You finally whispered back at him.

Sukuna made a low sound—half amusement, half acknowledgment. “Tch. Thought so. You don’t look like the type to sit with all the other idiots down there.”

You frowned, unsure whether that was supposed to be an insult or not. But he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he shifted onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow now, watching you with an unreadable expression. It made your skin prickle.

“…What?” you muttered, feeling the need to break the silence.

His smirk curled slow and lazy, like he was enjoying something only he understood. “Nothing.”

Liar. You think to yourself, gripping your chopsticks too hard. This kid…..

His scarlet gaze stayed on you for a second longer, then, without another word, he flopped back down, arms behind his head once more. A breeze passed between you, carrying the faint scent of metal and sweat. It was as though the remnants of whatever fight he had been in earlier bristles past you both.

You should have been relieved that he lost interest, that he wasn’t prying any further. But something about the way he had looked at you left an uneasy weight in your chest. As if, despite everything, despite the distance you had tried to keep.  He had just decided you were interesting.

You tried to keep eating, but your appetite had taken a hit. Something about the way Ryomen Sukuna had looked at you unnerved you. It was that look, that lazy, knowing, look. It was like he had already decided something about you. And that had more than ever made it hard to focus on anything else.

The rooftop had always been your place. 

It was your quiet retreat to begin with. 

But now, with him here, it felt different. 

Everything just felt like it was off-balance, occupied.

You stole a glance at him. He was still lying there, arms behind his head, eyes closed again like he hadn’t just made your skin crawl a moment ago. His breathing was steady, his expression unreadable, but you knew better than to think he wasn’t aware of everything around him.

He was too sharp for that. The last thing you wanted was to let him think he had you rattled, so you forced yourself to eat. One bite. Another. Just ignore him. You were going to finish with your meal soon enough.

You can go back and take a walk after this. You busied yourself with finishing the meal, letting the silence reign over. But the silence didn’t last long, as you would like to hope.

“So?”

You paused mid-chew, blinking. “What?”

Sukuna didn’t move. “How long are you gonna sit there pretending I don’t exist?”

You stiffened. His voice was laced with amusement, but there was something else underneath it. You couldn’t help but think that there was something unreadable in there. It was mysterious, it was a pandemonium you could never know escape from. It was like he remains that sphinx who wants your attention to solve his enigma.

“I’m not pretending about anything.” you muttered, keeping your gaze on your lunch.

“Yeah?” A soft chuckle, low and lazy. “Then why do you look so tense?”

Your chopsticks froze in place. You weren’t tense. Were you? That had made you sit still, even more frozen than before as you start to question yourself. Before you could answer, Ryomen Sukuna finally moved, rolling onto his side to look at you again. The way his sharp eyes dragged over you made your spine go rigid, and you hated that he noticed.

“Tch.” he scoffed. “You really don’t talk much, huh?”

You swallowed down your irritation. “I don’t see a reason to.”

That made him smirk. “Smart.”

You didn’t know why, but the word felt like a backhanded compliment. Then, as if he had already lost interest, he flopped back onto his back, exhaling like he had all the intention of that being his last breath to you. 

This whole interaction was nothing more than an afterthought to him. 

You should have been relieved all about it. 

But somehow, you just weren’t.

Because for some reason, Ryomen Sukuna’s presence lingered in your mind like a storm you couldn’t quite ignore. Even as you left that place, knowing he’d fallen back asleep, you found yourself in a quagmire of him. Your lips pressed into a line as you walked back into the hallways. You had a sinking feeling that this wasn’t the last time you’d find him up here.

And you were right to feel it. 

A few days passed.

And just as you feared, Ryomen Sukuna did in fact keep showing up.

The first time that happened, you thought it was a coincidence. Maybe he was just skipping class, maybe he liked the solitude too, though nothing about Ryomen Sukuna screamed quiet loner.

But by the fifth time, you knew better.

You pushed open the rooftop door one afternoon, lunch in hand, only to find him already there—again. This time, he was sitting up, arms resting on his knees, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily in the breeze.

You hesitated in the doorway. “That’s illegal for a kid to do, you know?”

“Does it matter?” He glanced at you, expression unreadable. “You’re late.”

Your grip tightened on your lunchbox. “I didn’t know we had a schedule.”

A lazy smirk pulled at his lips. “We do now.”

You didn’t respond, just walked past him and sat in your usual spot, a careful distance away. Ryomen Sukuna didn’t say anything after that, just went back to watching the sky, flicking ash from his cigarette with a slow, practiced motion.

It was almost peaceful, you would say. Well, almost. But even in silence, he was there, taking up space, shifting the air around him like gravity itself bent to his will. And you hated that you were starting to get used to it. It was starting to get a little bit more comfortable to you, the concept of being together.

Halfway through your meal, he spoke again. “What’s your deal?”

You blinked. “What?”

He turned his head slightly, looking at you with a lazy sort of curiosity. “You. You always eat alone, you don’t talk much, and you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

You frowned, ignoring the prickle of irritation at how easily he had read you. “Maybe I just don’t like people.”

Sukuna chuckled, low and amused. “Yeah? Same.”

He flicked the cigarette away, watching the embers burn out as it hit the concrete. Then, before you could think of a response, he leaned back against the metal chain linked fence, stretching his arms out over the metal railing, and exhaled like he had just decided something.

“Guess I’ll keep you company, then.”

You nearly choked. “Excuse me?”

Sukuna grinned, sharp and cocky. “You don’t like people. I don’t like people. We can not like people together.”

You stared at him, searching for some kind of punchline, some hint that he was messing with you. But he just looked at you, completely at ease, like he had already made up his mind and your opinion didn’t matter. Something about that made your stomach twist.

You narrowed your eyes. “I didn’t ask for company.”

He shrugged. “Too bad. You’ve interested me.”

You frowned. Interested in him?

That wasn’t something you wanted. 

Not from Ryomen Sukuna.

Your chopsticks hovered over your lunch as you tried to pretend like his words didn’t bother you, but you could feel his scarlet gaze still on you—watching, studying. Like you were a puzzle he was in no rush to solve, content just to poke at the pieces and see what happened.

“That’s not my problem, Ryomen.” you muttered, stabbing a piece of food a little too aggressively.

Sukuna only chuckled, the sound low and amused. “You’re acting like you have a choice.”

That made your eye twitch. You set your chopsticks down with a quiet click, turning to finally face him. “I do have a choice.”

He smirked, head tilting slightly. “Do you?”

His confidence was infuriating. And you hated how smooth it was. You hated how he just knows he’s right.  He wasn’t asking you. You knew that. He was stating, dictating as if he had already decided the outcome, as if whatever you thought didn’t really matter. And that irritated you more than anything else.

“You can’t just show up here and declare that we’re friends or something.” you snapped.

Sukuna scoffed. “Who said anything about being friends?”

That threw you off. “…Then what the hell do you want?”

He grinned, sharp and wolfish, like he had been waiting for you to ask. “Dunno. You’re interesting. Thought I’d stick around and see what you do.”

Your stomach twisted at that.

Like you were some kind of entertainment.

God, how much you wanted to curse just now.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m not here to entertain you.”

Sukuna leaned back against the fence, completely unfazed. “Good. That’d be boring.”

You exhaled through your nose, trying to wick away the irritation bubbling under your skin. There was no point in arguing with him. The more you pushed, the more he seemed to enjoy it. So instead, you picked up your chopsticks and ignored him.

A breeze swept through the rooftop. Ryomen Sukuna didn’t speak again, but you could still feel his presence lingering beside you—heavy, unwavering, unmoving. It wasn’t a threat. Not exactly. But it wasn’t nothing, either.

And deep down, you had the unsettling feeling that no matter how much you resisted, no matter how much space you tried to put between yourself and him. Sukuna had already decided. And he wasn’t going anywhere. Just like that, that conversation was over.

You watched as Sukuna leaned back against the fence again, tilting his head up toward the sky, completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just decided to insert himself into your space without permission. Like it was inevitable. And deep down, no matter how much you wanted to deny it as you ate your lunch, you had a feeling he wasn’t wrong.

══════════════════

YOU REALLY SHOULD HAVE NOT LET HIM DECIDE THIS ‘FRIENDSHIP’ YOU BOTH HAVE. You really should have known when to put your foot down. But you just really were not that good at getting it across as he has. This is why you were stuck in this situation. You glared as you sat there and decided that Ryomen Sukuna was an absolute menace.

Your new friend was someone who was a feared name across campus. A natural-born fighter. A troublemaker with a cocky smirk and a sharp tongue that could tear people apart just as effectively as his fists.

And yet, here he was irritating you to death with that smirk on his lips as he quipped you a new joke you absolutely hated. Here he was, sitting on the rooftop like some stray cat, drinking a strawberry milk carton and eating anpan like a child at recess.

You like to think that if he was just not making those annoying jokes and just sat down and let you watch him eat in silence, mayhaps you would be more mildly amused as he took slow sips of the sweet drink.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard, hm?” Sukuna said, voice full of that lazy, smug amusement that made your eyes twitch.

You didn’t respond. Just glared. Ryomen Sukuna, looking unfazed as always, took another obnoxiously slow sip of his strawberry milk, the straw making an irritating slurping noise that set your teeth on edge.

“Let me guess…..” he continued, tapping his chin in mock thought. “You’re wondering how the hell you got stuck with me, aren’t you?”

You set your lunch down with a sharp click and gave him a look. “I wasn’t wondering. I know exactly how. You forced it.”

Sukuna grinned. “Damn right, I did.”

You wanted to throw his anpan off the roof.

It was insufferable, how much he enjoyed this, how much he enjoyed riling you up. Lately, it was like it was his new favorite pastime. And the worst part? You weren’t even sure if he was doing it on purpose or if he was just naturally this unbearable.

“You could, you know.” he mused, watching you with an almost amused curiosity.

You frowned. “Could what?”

He smirked. “Tell me to get lost. Put your foot down. Give me a real reason to leave.”

Your fingers clenched slightly, grip tightening around your chopsticks. He was daring you. Testing you. He wanted to see if you’d actually do it. And the problem was—you should. You really should. But the words wouldn’t come out.

Because despite how much he irritated you, despite how much you wanted to not be in this situation… there was a part of you that knew: Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just a delinquent. He wasn’t just a troublemaker or some violent, cocky bastard who liked to fight. 

You knew that he was a force of nature, one that has overwhelmed you more than anything else. And trying to push him away was like trying to tell a storm to stop blowing. So instead of answering, you just scowled and turned back to your food, hoping he’d drop it.

Sukuna chuckled, shaking his head as he took another sip of his drink. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Menace. Absolute menace.

You were never getting rid of him.

And worst of all? You weren’t even sure if you wanted to anymore.

You could only sigh as the long reach of his fingers lazily crinkled the carton. The contrast between his usual rough demeanor and this absurdly peaceful moment never failed to amuse you. More often than not, after these little breaks, he would stretch his legs out, lean against the railing, and pass out. Like clockwork.

And somehow, without either of you ever talking about it, it became a routine. You would sit beside him, pretending to read or scroll through your phone, only to glance at him as he inevitably dozed off, arms crossed, head tilting slightly to the side.

There were times when he’d wake up with a soft mutter. "Well, well, well. You’re still here, aren’t you?"

And you would always reply the same way. "Well, yeah. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t roll off the roof and die."

At first, he just scoffed at you. 

But over time, it changed.

The thanks he used to mutter under his breath became a little clearer. The hesitation in his voice lessened. And then there were the nights when he wasn’t just tired—he was beat. Bruised knuckles, scuffed knees, a split lip that he’d wipe with the back of his hand as if it was nothing.

You had quietly started bringing bandages for him from time to time. The first time you handed him some, he stared at them like you had just offered him a kidney. It was really a pitiful sight, that look in his eyes, both of you knew that.

And yet all at once, it was interesting. That warmth you never expected to see in his eyes. One that he had never expected to feel, one that you had never expected to know.

“Don’t need ‘em right now.” he muttered.

You just stared back. “Sure you don’t.”

He clicked his tongue, but after a moment, he snatched them from your hand anyway. “Tch. You’re so damn nosy.”

That continued for a while. And somehow, that too evolved. At some point, mealtime got involved. It started with him watching you eat one day, his gaze flicking between you and your food like he was debating whether or not to ask.

“You want some?” you finally said, raising an eyebrow.

He scoffed. “No.”

Not even five minutes later, his gaze still hadn’t left your food.

You sighed. “You’re a terrible liar, goddamn. All you eat is anpan. Of course you want this.”

“Shut up.”

You ended up splitting your lunch with him that day. At times, you realized he had a bigger appetite. So you pack more and more, so you both can share more food to last you the day for energy. 

You thought it would be a one off thing, but then you kept packing more and more every day. And then the next. And then the day after that. And somehow, before you even realized it, lunch breaks together on the school rooftop became another routine, like a picnic made for the two of you. Some days, you’d talk about random things between bites.

"Have you ever thought about how weird the school anthem is? Like, who wrote that?"

"Probably some dead guy, stop overthinking it." He snickers, eating the lunch you made for him. 

On the other mundane days, you’d find yourselves caught up in a very serious competition over stolen playing card games he brings to school. Well, card games he finds somewhere you didn’t even want to think about.

"You pocketed these off a junior?" you asked in disbelief, shuffling the deck.

Sukuna smirked, leaning back against the railing. "Dumbass lost a bet."

"You bullied a much younger kid for this?"

"Tch. He knew the stakes."

You shook your head but still dealt the cards. 

Because at this point, why not?

So, you just go with this flow, yeah.

The feared, notorious Ryomen Sukuna was a force to be reckoned with. But somehow, between all the rooftop naps, strawberry milk cartons, late afternoon bandages, and card games, you had carved out a space in his life. And whether he admitted it or not, he didn’t really mind.

And it’s even more weirdly freaky that you and Sukuna ended up sharing a habit of listening to music whenever you had free time. You had your own preferences, of course, but one day, when you passed him one of your earbuds, you were shocked to realize that he actually liked classical music.

"I figured you’d be into something more... aggressive music." you admitted, watching as he leaned back, arms crossed, listening intently.

He scoffed. "What, you think I only listen to music that makes me wanna fight people?"

"...Yes?"

"Tch. Idiot." He turned his attention back to the music, tapping his fingers idly against his knee. "This one’s alright. But Tchaikovsky’s better."

Your jaw dropped. "Wait, you like Tchaikovsky?"

"Yeah? And what?"

You shook your head in disbelief. "I just... I wouldn’t have guessed."

"What, you think I don't have taste?"

"I know you don’t have taste."

He flicked your forehead. That was the day you realized Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just a brutish boy. If anything, he actually had opinions on things outside of fighting and being a bad boy. And, as it turned out, music wasn’t the only thing.

One afternoon, while you were sitting on the rooftop as usual, Ryomen Sukuna casually pulled out a book and flipped it open, acting like this was completely normal. Your whole mouth was agape to the floor, you were sure of that.  

You blinked. "You read?"

He shot you a deadpan look. "No, I just stare at pages for fun."

You rolled your eyes, watching as he turned the page with the ease of someone who had definitely done this more than once. "...What’re you reading?"

"Something you wouldn’t get."

You raised an eyebrow. "Try me."

Instead of answering, he tossed the book at you. 

You barely caught it before flipping to the cover.

"...I’ve never heard of this one."

"Figures." he smirked, leaning back against the railing. "You read the boring stuff."

You scoffed. "Excuse me, but I read classics."

"Exactly. Boring."

You gasped, clutching your chest in mock offense. "Oh how dare you?"

He snickers. “I’ll lend you my books, don’t worry. Now sit down and break my ear from your screaming.”

“Oh shut up!”

From then on, lending each other books became a thing. Sometimes, it was casual. Other times, it turned into heated debates over themes, characters, and why the hell Ryomen Sukuna thought the antagonist was right.

But the best part?

Every time he lent you a book, you always found little notes scribbled in the margins—much or less half of them insightful, half of them just him being an ass.

("This guy’s an idiot. Don’t be like him.")

("Bet you didn’t see that twist coming, nerd.")

("I already know you’re gonna argue with me about this part, so don’t even start.")

And you did argue.

But somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

What started as a random book exchange had slowly become something bigger. It wasn’t just about lending each other books or debating over plot twists anymore. It was the way you’d catch Ryomen Sukuna leaning back in his chair, flipping through a book you’d recommended, his brow furrowed in thought.

Or the way he’d glance at you while you read one of his books, waiting for your reaction whenever you hit a major plot point. It was subtle, but it was there. And the teasing, of course, never stopped. You caught him very obviously staring at you while you were finishing one of his books.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Something on my face?”

He smirked. “Nah, just wondering if you finally get why I was right.”

You huffed, snapping the book shut. “You’re not right.”

“I am.”

“You aren’t!”

“Okay, okay.” he drawled, stretching his arms over his head. “Let’s hear it then, Professor. Enlighten me.”

You scooted closer, pointing aggressively at a passage in the book. “Alright, listen, in this part—”

And that was how you both spent an entire afternoon, passionately arguing over fictional characters like it was a life-or-death situation.

Then came the day you discovered something else. Something about yourself.

And all it took was another day, another afternoon spent on the rooftop.

The sun was warm but not unbearable, the breeze just strong enough to rustle your hair as you leaned against the railing. Beside you, Sukuna sat cross-legged, nursing his beloved cold and fresh strawberry milk carton like it was some kind of divine nectar.

He tilted his head back, taking a long sip before letting out a very satisfied sigh. “Damn, this never gets old.”

You side-eyed him. “You sound like an old man reminiscing about his youth.”

“Tch.” He shot you a lazy smirk. “Better an old man than a nerd who stays up all night studying.”

You gasped, dramatically clutching your chest. “How dare you insult my commitment to academia?”

Sukuna chuckled, reaching into his pocket before casually pulling out a deck of cards. “Alright, nerd. Put your commitment to good use and try to beat me today.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you cheat at this?”

He raised a brow, feigning innocence. “Would I ever?”

“Yes.”

Before he could retort, the rooftop door slammed open, and a very familiar, very exasperated voice rang out. “There you are!”

Both of you turned to see one of your classmates panting at the doorway, hands on their knees.

They pointed an accusatory finger at you. “You skipped the study group!”

Sukuna turned to you, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh? Nerd’s skipping study group? Scandalous.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “It’s one session.”

“You never skip.” Your classmate shot a pointed glance at Sukuna, then back at you, suspicion creeping into their features. “Wait. Are you guys dating?”

You froze. “H–huh? What the—”

Ryomen Sukuna—because he was Ryomen Sukuna—immediately grinned like the menace he was.

“Damn, caught in the act, babe.” he drawled, draping an arm over your shoulder. “Guess the secret’s out.”

You smacked his arm away, face heating up. “Oh my god, shut up!”

Your classmate screeched. “You didn’t deny it—”

“BECAUSE HE’S AN IDIOT!” you practically shouted, shoving Sukuna off as he cackled at your suffering.

“Uh-huh.” they said, clearly not convinced. “I’m telling everyone—”

Sukuna smirked. “Go ahead. Maybe then everyone will finally stop flirting with her and I won’t have to glare at every idiot who tries.”

Your classmate’s jaw dropped. “Oh we’re at that level now, huh?”

You, on the other hand, were about two seconds away from exploding. “SUKUNA—”

“Tch, what? I’m just saying what we both know.”

“WE BOTH KNOW NOTHING.”

But even as you yelled at him, he just leaned back, smug as ever, sipping the last of his strawberry milk like he hadn’t just casually dropped a bomb on you and everyone with his stupid conversations.

And somehow, despite the absolute chaos he always brought into your life, you wouldn’t have it any other way. You would choose to be by his side if you were given the choice. Both you knew it too.

══════════════════

HE NEVER REALLY THOUGHT IT WOULD GO THIS FAR. But he doesn’t think he can enjoy going to school without seeing you on the rooftop with him. This is what entices him to even want to go to school. Slowly but surely, Ryomen Sukuna began to enjoy himself in your presence like this. 

At first, it was subtle. So subtle that even he barely noticed it. The way his shoulders loosened when he was around you. The way his scowl softened when you teased him. The way he didn’t mind sharing his space, his food, his time with you.

Slowly but surely, he found himself eager for your attention more and more. It started with little things. Like how he’d glance at you first when he finally made a really good joke, just to see if you were laughing.

Or how, even in a crowded room, his eyes instinctively sought you out. How he’d nudge you with his knee when he was bored, just to get you to acknowledge him.

It was annoying. This thing he felt whenever you weren’t near. But you were the only true constant he had, you were the only one that he could find as permanence in the life lived with change. The only one who hadn’t turned away. The only one who didn’t look at him like he was some monster.

And one day, that thought made him stop in his tracks.

You weren’t looking at him badly at all.

You never had, even when you first met him.

Which made no damn sense.

One late afternoon, as you sat together on the rooftop, the sky a deep shade of blue hour in its peak indigo, Ryomen Sukuna found himself blurting out the question that had been gnawing at him for weeks.

“…Why do you stay by my side?”

You looked up from your book, blinking at him. “Huh?”

“I don’t get it.” He leaned back, arms crossed, frowning. “Why the hell do you hang around me? Everyone else either avoids me or wants something from me. But you just—”

"What?" You asked him.

He scowled, struggling to find the right words. “You just stay.”

You tilted your head, smiling slightly. “Because you’re interesting.”

He stared at you like you had grown a second head. “That’s your reason?”

“Yup.”

Sukuna scoffed. “You saw me beat a guy half to death on the first day.”

You laughed, shrugging. “But didn’t you do that because he was looking under a girl’s skirt?”

He paused at your words.

Suddenly, it was just a click.

Something in his chest clicked in place.

He hadn’t even thought about it back then. It wasn’t like he had done it to be some noble hero, he just didn’t like creeps. It was as simple as that. But the fact that you saw it that way? That you had been watching him just as closely as he had been watching you?

It made his ears burn hot red.

“Tch.” He looked away, clicking his tongue. “Still dumb of you to stick around for that.”

You grinned, nudging his arm. “Nah. I think I made a pretty good choice. I mean there were other things that came with that.”

And damn it, he hated how much he liked hearing that.

From that moment on, something shifted between you and Sukuna. Well, at least for him. He wouldn’t say it out loud—not yet, at least—but he had stopped questioning why you stayed. Maybe it was because you weren’t afraid of him. 

Maybe it was because you always had a way of looking at him that made him feel like he wasn’t just some guy people feared. Maybe it was because, for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like he had to prove himself to someone. You were just there.

And somehow, that was enough for him.

But of course, he wasn’t about to get all sappy about it.

He doesn’t dare be that loud about it.

“Alright, genius.” He leaned back, arms crossed, watching you scribble some scientific formula on your massive notepad. “If I’m so interesting, what’s the most interesting thing about me?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “You pretend to be meaner than you are.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Tch. Pretend?”

“Mhm.” You smirked. “You act like you don’t care, but you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You literally gave that stray cat your milk carton last week, Sukuna.”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re still on about that?”

“Because it was cute, wasn’t it?” you teased, grinning. “You wanted to take it home with you and nurse it back to health!”

“I will throw you off this rooftop.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Try me.”

And maybe it was the way you were always ready to challenge him, the way you never backed down. Maybe it was the way you could see through him like no one else ever had. Either way, Ryomen Sukuna was doomed.

He was already losing the battle.

Because as much as he’d never admit it, he liked that you stayed.

He liked that you were there with him.

It wasn’t often that Ryomen Sukuna hesitated, that in itself was a fact to everyone you dare ask. But in the moment after that as he watched you continue to scribble on your notepad, he found himself struggling even more. He couldn’t help it.

He wasn’t the type to second-guess himself, to stall, or to act shy about something he wanted. When he set his sights on something, he took it, it was as simple as that. But now, as he sat beside you as he watched you, hands shoved in his pockets, lips pressed together in an almost pout, he looked… hesitant. Which was weird.

You tilted your head. “What’s up with you, Sukuna? You were just fine earlier. I mean you were alright with the banter. Now you’re stunned to silence again.”

Sukuna clicked his tongue, eyes flickering away. “It’s nothing.”

“Liar.” You snickered, not looking up at him. “You don’t lose your words with it being nothing.”

His furrowed brows twitched, and you could see the gears turning in his head. He wanted to say something. You just had to be patient. “…I’m gonna try out for the volleyball team.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

He gave a slow nod, avoiding your gaze. “Yeah. I just….thought I need a new leaf.”

“Well, that’s good on you, Sukuna! Less fights, more rights—but on court!”

“Hey, I’m left handed!”

You giggled. “Just kidding.”

And now that you really looked at him, you noticed the way his fingers fidgeted slightly at his sides, how his usual sharp expression was replaced by something almost… uncertain. You could see the red echo all over his face and neck and even his ears.

That was when it hit you.

He wanted to ask you to come.

He wanted you there.

You opened your mouth, but before he could get a single word out, you grinned and butted in. “I’ll be there.”

Sukuna blinked. “Huh?”

“You were gonna ask me to come, right?” You nudged him playfully. “So, yeah. I’ll be there. Front row seat.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, lips parting slightly like he was searching for some kind of response. Then, he scowled, clicking his tongue. “Annoying.”

You laughed. “You love it.”

“Debatable.” But despite his grumbling, you swore you saw the corners of his lips twitch into the smallest smile.

And just like that, Ryomen Sukuna, someone who never asked for anyone’s approval had finally found something he wanted even more than volleyball. He wanted you to see him win. He wanted to see you there when he got his uniform and his place on the team.

“You’re really cute right now, do you know that?”

“Huh? Who are you callin’ cute?”

“Sukuna, give me back my notepad, you tall jerk!”

“Reach for it, shorty!”

══════════════════

epilogue

It started as a normal post-practice dinner, like it always was. It was normal, meaning loud and chaotic thanks to Gojo and Geto and how they roped Yuuji into their antics. The seven of you were packed into your usual corner booth, plates stacked high, drinks half-empty, and conversation buzzing with easy banter.

Then Itadori Yuuji—bless his pure, curious heart—asked the question that sealed Sukuna’s fate. “So… how did you guys even meet?”

You paused, chopsticks mid-air. “Oh, uh…. What do you wanna know?”

The bright-eyed junior smiled at you. “As much as you wanna say, senpai!”

Captain Ryomen Sukuna, who had just taken a bite of pork cutlet, froze. He slowly chewed, scarlet eyes darting toward you like he was calculating whether he should trust you with the answer. Big mistake.

Gojo immediately leaned in. “Oh-ho-ho, now this I wanna hear.”

Geto grinned, leaning back at the white haired vice-captain. “Yeah, you guys never really told us the full story.”

Megumi groaned. “And you really don’t need to.”

Nanami merely sighed, but there was a tiny flicker of interest in his otherwise indifferent expression. You turned to your boyfriend, Ryomen Sukuna with the smuggest look ever. He turned to you, panicked and horrified.

You smirked. “Wanna tell them, my love?”

His eyes twitched. “I hate when you say it like that, so damn mischievous.”

Gojo gasped, delighted. “Wait. You call senpai babe, but she can’t call you babe? Oh my god. This is so good.”

Sukuna shot him a deadly glare. “Do you want me to stab you with my chopsticks? And again, we talked about this. I like being called my love by my girl or nothing.”

"Aw, I'm your girl?"

"I'm going to sleep on the couch later with your stuffed bunny."

"My love, that's just cruel!" You pouted.

His eyes falters as he lowers his head and blushes. "Goddamn it."

Megumi snickers, leaning back. "Are we just gonna skip over the captain liking bunny plushies?"

Sukuna looks up. "I'm going to throttle you."

Gojo shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried.”

Geto snorted, turning to you. “Anyway, go on and spill, senpai!”

You grinned at him, leaning into the table. “We met in middle school. Sukuna was a menace.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Was?”

“Fine, is.”

Megumi muttered, “Glad we’re acknowledging it, senpai.”

Ignoring them, you continued, “The first time I saw him, he was absolutely wrecking some guy in a fight.”

Yuuji choked on his drink. “HUH???”

Megumi sighed. “Of course senpai was a delinquent.”

“But, but—” You raised a finger. “The guy was really horrible. Sukuna saw that he was looking under another junior’s girl’s skirt and it was making the girl feel horrible, so he jumped in and he started a fight.”

Gojo cackled. “Oh my god, senpai! You saw him commit to beating a guy in a fight and thought, ‘wow, what a prince.’”

Sukuna groaned, dropping his forehead onto the table. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

You patted his back, grinning. “He didn’t get into fights without reason, don’t worry! Anyway, I stuck around. And before he knew it, he couldn’t get rid of me.”

Sukuna grumbled, “Yeah, you were annoying.”

“Were?”

He sighed, already regretting his entire existence. “Fine. Are.”

Yuuji grinned. “So basically… you made the first move?”

Sukuna sat up, looking deeply offended. “No.”

Nanami, who had been quietly sipping his tea, suddenly added, “You were the one who asked senpai to come to your volleyball tryouts.”

Sukuna turned to him, betrayed. “I thought you didn’t get involved in stupid conversations, Nanami.”

“I don’t.” Nanami set his cup down calmly. “But this is funny.”

Gojo howled. “Oh, this is fantastic. Loverboy Ryomem Sukuna actually invited senpai first! Was, he blushing, senpai?”

You grinned. “Hm, he was!”

Geto smirked. “You know what that means, right? That means you made the first move, cap!”

“I DID NOT.”

“You definitely did, captain.” Megumi muttered.

You grinned, resting your chin on your palm. “Face it, my love. Like it or not, you love me with everything you’ve got.”

Sukuna grumbled, looking away, ears red. “Tch. Tolerate is a better word.”

But the way he let you lean against him, the way his fingers brushed against yours under the table?

Yeah, you grinned.

You knew the truth.

And that’s why Sukuna was suffering.

Physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

All because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

And he loved you for it, more than anything.

Gojo and Geto were thriving off his pain, Megumi looked like he wanted to die just by being associated with this conversation, and Nanami, the one person who usually had self-control, had actually joined in on roasting him.

Worst of all? You were sitting there, all smug and grinning, as if you weren’t the reason his dignity was being publicly executed.

"Okay, okay." Yuuji laughed, leaning forward eagerly. "So when did you two actually start dating? Who said I love you first?"

Sukuna groaned, rubbing his temples. "Why are we still talking about this?"

"Because it's hilarious, captain!" Gojo said, sipping his drink with a shit-eating grin.

"You guys are acting like this is some historical event!" Sukuna muttered.

"You being in a relationship is basically a historical event, you know that, right?" Megumi deadpanned.

Nanami somewhat agreed. “It’s hard to know how to keep you settled, captain.”

“That’s going to earn you both more burpees!”

You giggled, reaching over to flick Sukuna’s ear. “Come on, tell them how you said it first.”

Sukuna scowled at you. “I didn’t say it first.”

"You so did, huh?" Geto smirked, drumming his fingers on the table.

Sukuna shot him a murderous glare. "No, I didn't."

"You absolutely did." you chirped, grinning.

Gojo perked up like he lived for this drama. "Wait, wait, wait—so the captain said I love you first?! Oh, this is damn gold."

Nanami took a sip of his drink, looking mildly interested. "How did this happen?"

Sukuna crossed his arms, looking like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. "It was not a confession. It was—"

"A moment of weakness?" Megumi guessed dryly.

"A lapse in judgment?" Geto suggested.

"A divine miracle?" Gojo threw in, wiggling his eyebrows.

Sukuna clicked his tongue, looking at you like you were his final lifeline. He then looked at the other boys. “Multiple running laps on Monday.”

You, of course, were having too much fun. "Oh, it was so cute."

Sukuna groaned. "I swear to god—"

"Okay, okay!" You laughed, waving your hand. "I'll tell the story."

Sukuna immediately collapsed onto the table in defeat. “Jesus Christ—”

"So, one night after one of his games, Sukuna was exhausted—”

"As one is after carrying an entire team, mind you." Sukuna muttered.

You ignored him. "And he was so tired, he wasn’t really thinking before he spoke."

Gojo gasped dramatically. "The captain? Not thinking before he speaks? Shocking!"

You continued, undeterred. "So we were just sitting there, and I handed him a drink, and he just sighs and goes, ‘Man, I love you.’"

An echo of sudden silence.

Then the entire table erupted into chaos.

"NO. WAY." Yuuji nearly choked on his drink.

"AND IT WAS CASUAL? JUST LIKE THAT?" Gojo cackled.

"Disgusting." Megumi muttered, sipping his drink like he wasn’t deeply entertained.

Geto wiped a fake tear from his eye. "Damn. Our boy is whipped."

Sukuna, face fully buried in his hands, groaned. "I was tired!"

Nanami, who was enjoying himself far too much, nodded. "Ah. So it was an accidental confession."

You giggled, patting Sukuna’s back. "And then when I stared at him, all shocked, he tried to walk it back and was like, ‘Wait, no, I didn’t mean—’"

Sukuna slammed his forehead on the table. "I HATE YOU."

"Love you too, my love." you cooed sweetly, kissing his cheek.

Gojo nearly fell out of his chair laughing. "OH MY GOD, CAPTAIN! YOU’RE A LOSER."

Yuuji wiped tears from his eyes. "Man, I love this."

Megumi sighed. "This has been the worst meal of my life."

"Best meal of my life." Geto grinned.

Nanami sighed. "This shit makes me want a girlfriend."

Sukuna looked up, glaring at everyone. "I regret ever meeting you all."

"You love us." Gojo said, waving him off.

"No. I love her. Even if she's a fucking menace." Sukuna jabbed a finger at you. "I tolerate the rest of you."

You beamed, leaning into his side. "See? That was an intentional confession."

Sukuna groaned as the table roared with laughter again. “Why are we going through life like this?”

You smiled at him, leaning in and kissing his cheek. "I love you!"

Okay, maybe tonight was worth it.

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: Your Sweetest & Most Lovable Qualities ✮⋆˙

I. II. III.

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

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⋆𐙚₊˚Pile I

So, we’ve got, Yeah, I know big cards for a topic about your most endearing qualities. Oh, and before we go any further—let me just say this. I couldn’t pull more than three cards for this pile for some reason. To me, that’s the universe saying, This is it. This is all they need to know. This is the energy of someone who has lived, felt, and somehow turned all the chaos of life into something beautiful, tender, and deeply lovable. But that’s exactly what makes this reading so powerful. You’re not someone whose sweetness is obvious on the surface.

This pile is the softest in a "you don’t even realize how powerful your love is" kind of way.

listen, if these cards were in a different context, I’d be holding your hand and whispering, “Babe, brace yourself,” but here? These two cards are telling me that your most lovable quality is how you handle endings, transformations, and straight-up life-altering moments. You don’t cling when things need to be let go. You don’t fear the crumbling because you know something better is waiting to be built. And that? That’s what makes people soft for you. There’s something heartbreakingly tender about a person who has seen destruction but still chooses to believe in new beginnings. You give off this aura of quiet strength—like someone who’s been through the fire but still keeps their hands warm enough to comfort others. People feel safe with you, not because life is always stable around you (The Tower says otherwise, babe), but because you’ve shown time and time again that no matter how much things collapse, you will always rebuild. And let’s talk about how unexpectedly comforting you are. You’re not the person who hands out surface-level advice like “everything happens for a reason” (ugh, no). You’re the one who sits with people in their mess, in their heartbreak, in their uncertainty, and just exists with them, without judgment. And somehow, through your presence alone, you make people believe that they, too, will get through it. (OMG PILE 1, i wanna give you people such a big hug 😭😭 I seriously felt like crying while writing this pile, the energies were so heavy yet so soft) See, your kindness isn’t loud. It’s not the type that announces itself in grand gestures or obvious ways. It’s the kind that sneaks up on people. The kind that makes someone pause one day and think, “Wow, I didn’t even realize how much I needed them.” You don’t just offer stability—you are stability. Not because your life is always in order (again, The Tower says you’ve had your fair share of chaos), but because you know how to find steadiness even in uncertainty. You’re like a lighthouse in the storm, always there, always steady, guiding people home without needing to be asked. And people adore this about you. There’s something profoundly lovable about someone who makes others feel grounded without even trying. Whether it’s through your words, your actions, or just the way you carry yourself, you give people a sense of belonging. You’re not the kind of person who opens up easily, and that’s part of what makes your sweetness so special.

You don’t hand out trust like free samples at a store. No, honey, people have to work for it. And when they do? They’re met with something so rare—loyalty, unwavering support, and a kind of love that says, “I will stand by you even when everything else falls apart.” And that? That makes people soft for you in a way that’s hard to put into words. People may not always realize it at first, but once they do, they never forget you. You’re the kind of person whose absence is felt. The kind of person who, once someone has experienced your presence, nothing else quite measures up.

So, to sum this all up? Your most endearing, lovable qualities aren’t the kind that everyone immediately recognizes. You’re not “sweet” in the conventional, sunshine-and-rainbows way. You’re sweet in the way that a person feels when they’ve finally found home after being lost for so long. You’re sweet in the way that endings feel bittersweet but necessary. You’re sweet in the way that rebirth always holds a quiet kind of hope. And that? That’s a kind of sweetness that can’t be replicated.

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⋆𐙚₊˚Pile II

Alright, bestie, let’s get into Pile 2 because this reading? Oh, it’s personal. VERY PERSONAL.

So, looking at Four of Cups, Queen of Pentacles, Five of Pentacles, and The Sun, I’m getting such a specific and beautiful energy from you. You’re the type of person whose sweetness isn’t immediately obvious to everyone—it’s something people earn the right to see. Your love, your warmth, your kindness? It’s not just out there for anyone to take. It’s guarded, not because you’re cold, but because you know the value of your heart.Pile 2 people, your love feels like home. They are the ones who will wrap you up in warmth, make sure you’ve eaten, and remind you that you are loved even on the days you feel invisible.

I can tell you’re someone who has felt neglected in the past. Maybe you’ve been that person who showed up for others but didn’t always get the same in return. Maybe you’ve had moments where you wondered, Does anyone even see me? But here’s the thing—this has shaped you into someone so rare, so deeply precious. You don’t just give your love freely—you give it intentionally. And when you do? It changes people.There’s something so tender about someone who understands what it’s like to feel left out in the cold but still chooses to be warm. You don’t just give surface-level kindness; you make people feel safe. Your energy is like a soft, golden light in a world that can sometimes feel too harsh. the Queen of Pentacles energy sitting right in the middle of this spread, i see it as one of the main qualities of yours. You are the nurturer, the provider, the person whose presence feels like a deep breath after a long day. But what makes this so beautiful is that you don’t flaunt it. You’re not out here shouting, Look at me, I’m kind! No, your love is quiet. It’s the type that sneaks up on people when they realize, Damn, I’ve never felt this safe before.

You have this incredible ability to make people feel valued. Not just liked, not just appreciated, but genuinely, wholeheartedly valued. And you don’t do it in a way that’s over-the-top or performative—you do it in the little things. The way you remember the small details about people, the way you check in even when they don’t ask, the way you offer comfort without making a big deal about it. That’s your magic. But here’s the thing—you don’t just give, give, give anymore. I see it in this spread. You’ve learned that your love is not a free buffet; it’s a carefully prepared meal, and only those who truly appreciate it get a seat at your table. And honestly? That’s one of the most lovable things about you. You don’t let just anyone into your world, but when you do? You give them something real, something they’ll never find anywhere else.

Oh, babe, do you even know how bright you shine? Because let me tell you, you don’t always see it, but others do. There’s this thing about you—you don’t even realize how much joy you bring to people just by existing. You might be the type who’s so used to being strong as we talked about how you are used to being neglected so you have now developed this coping mechanism , to carrying your own burdens, that you don’t notice how much your presence lifts others up. But trust me—people see it. You have this warm, radiant energy that just feels good to be around. And it’s not the loud, center-of-attention kind of warmth. It’s the kind that makes people feel like they can be themselves. The kind that makes them feel lighter, freer, happier.

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⋆𐙚₊˚Pile lll

First off, the fact that you got two Major Arcana cards in this reading? Yeah, this isn’t just about your surface-level sweetness. You people are the softest in the way that you inspire other people to keep going.

Starting off with this spread here, and oh my god, bestie, do you even realize how much you carry on your own? Like, I’m not even talking about small worries—I mean the deep, sleepless-night kind of overthinking. The taking on everyone else’s pain while pushing yours aside type of energy. y’all are like a walking contrast in the best way possible. On one hand, you carry a lot of internal battles, but on the other hand, you are the biggest source of light for others. And that’s what makes you so incredibly lovable. Your softness isn’t just about being gentle—it’s about being brave enough to keep believing in something better, even when life has knocked you down. You feel things deeply, and honestly? That’s what makes you so lovable. Here’s the thing: your softness isn’t in being effortlessly sweet—it’s in being brave enough to still love despite everything you’ve been through. You’ve had moments where you felt alone, where you thought, No one sees what I’m going through. But you never let that turn you cold. Instead, you became the person who helps others feel less alone. You are the definition of “I got you” energy—the friend, the lover, the safe space that people don’t even realize they need until they meet you. You make people feel understood, like they don’t have to carry things by themselves anymore. And that? That is rare. Now, let’s talk about The Star—because, DAMN, you don’t even realize how much of a light you are, do you? This card sitting right here tells me something crazy beautiful about you, You make people believe in good things again. You are literally hope personified. i think You people give the best motvational speeches Lol. You don’t sugarcoat things, but somehow you always know the right thing to say to pull someone out of their darkness. You remind people that life keeps moving, and better days are coming. You have this infectious “Why not?” attitude.

And what’s wild? You do this without even realizing it. Like, you’ll say something casually, and days later, someone’s still thinking about it, because you saw something in them that they didn’t even see in themselves. That’s your magic. Your love is quiet, but it’s healing. But here’s where it gets interesting—The Fool. And I love, love, LOVE this placement because this tells me your most lovable quality isn’t just your strength—it’s your ability to keep going. Like, after everything? You still believe in new beginnings. You still take risks with your heart. You still trust that there’s more to life than just pain and struggle. People are drawn to you because you remind them that it’s okay to start over. That it’s okay to try, to love, to hope—even after things have hurt them. And that’s something so rare. Because most people who’ve been through what you’ve been through? They shut down. But you? You open up. You jump, even when you’re scared. You let life surprise you. And that? That’s love in its purest form.

Your sweetness isn’t in being overly bubbly or outwardly affectionate—it’s in being real. In being the person who gets up even when life knocks them down. In being the kind of love that doesn’t demand attention but changes lives just by existing. And that? That’s a love the world doesn’t see enough of.

Liked the reading? get your own personalized super in-depth paid reading here!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[thealexchen]

Why Dontnod's games feel original and inspired (and why Deck Nine's games don't)

So, I've talked at length about how Double Exposure feels much more like a corporate product than a playable piece of art entertainment [My initial thoughts on the DE trailer] [My thoughts on the early access paywall] [My thoughts on the weird marketing].

But now with the release of Lost Records, I feel like I have no choice but to confront the question: were any of Deck Nine's games truly original or inspired in any way? And honestly, I have to say no.

Objectively, I could say it's because Deck Nine literally has not produced any original IP's since their rebrand from Idol Minds in 2017. Their only narrative adventure games are all part of the LiS franchise. But even their most original game, True Colors, pretty obviously follows the first game's narrative formula (young woman with a superpower investigates a sudden disappearance/death in a small town with a dark secret, has two opposite sex love interests, learns about a twist villain, is nearly murdered, and goes through a psychological nightmare in the last episode) to a tee. But oh look, there's also a LARP!

But I believe there's more to it than that, because when I look at Dontnod's games, they are always inspired by other works. Life is Strange 1 plays very clear homage to Twin Peaks with the Pacific Northwest setting and Rachel Amber resembling Laura Palmer. Max Caulfield is named after the protagonist of The Catcher in the Rye, another novel about the fleeting innocence of childhood and superficiality of society. Life is Strange borrows tropes from Donnie Darko, Groundhog Day, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, Stand By Me, and even Blue is The Warmest Color for its themes and plot points. Just take a look at its "Shout-out" page on TV Tropes. And the result is... something completely original, with riveting plot twists, memorable characters, and an ending that will make you cry.

This shouldn't make sense, right? You'd think this big soup of references would turn into an indistinguishable mess of cliches, but Life is Strange managed to be a synthesis of everything the writers loved and were inspired by, to become something completely new. Why? Because nobody had tried to take Twin Peaks, Donnie Darko, and The Catcher in the Rye and turn it into a video game before! And make it gay!

The point being, Dontnod consistently makes original material because they take creative risks. This is definitely not done lightly, since they still need to be a company that generates profit, but they still prioritize making art over selling out. Their stories feel inspired because they are inspired; when writers love what they're writing about, the result is a passion project that has loving, clever nods to all the works that are woven into it.

So perhaps a way to reword that first question is to then ask, "Have Deck Nine's games ever been inspired by anything?" And unfortunately, the answer is still no. Instead, they just copy what they hope will sell well. And a bland imitation for the sake of generating profit is never going to produce anything that feels original.

This takes me back to Lost Records, which is also clearly inspired by the same works: Twin Peaks, It: Chapter One, The Craft, The Blair Witch Project, The Goonies, Stand By Me. But again, no other game studio besides Dontnod has ever looked at these works and thought, "But what if it starred teenage lesbians instead?" Or, more specifically: "How do we capture the spirit of what made these media great and incorporate that into a new story for a new audience?" And those characters have so much thought and care poured into them too: while I've been disappointed that Double Exposure Max looks airbrushed to hell and back, I love that the Bloom & Rage girls have asymmetrical faces, acne, freckles, body hair, skin discoloration, and diverse body types. Double Exposure is marketed as nostalgia bait for fans, where Max is reduced to a prettied-up, polished-up, representation of nostalgia, not even her own character anymore, in a game that otherwise has no connection to the original. Her quips are reduced to "Hey! Remember our good ol', dad-joke cracking, dorky Max Caulfield??" and her grief is shoved aside for "Hey, look at that appealing new love interest! Because we knoooow y'all love your sapphic romance, right?"

By contrast, Lost Records has only been out for 10 days, but I already feel like the girls are some of the most memorable characters I've come across in gaming for the niche they fill. Swann seems like your typical Max-like dork, except she's also a movie buff and giddy about bugs, horror, and the paranormal; and has clearly been affected by her mother's fatphobic beliefs. Autumn is a level-headed leader who always stuck to her desire to help others, and her Blackness naturally informs her desire to feel valued and not cause trouble in a small, very white, conservative town. Nora intrigues me so much for going from a fun-loving rebel punk teen to a more gender-conforming, capitalist-leaning, influencer businesswoman. And Kat feels like an evolution of Chloe's cynicism, where her scrappy charm belies an almost unsettling obsession with the occult and a deep, tragic chasm of rage at having to confront her mortality far too young. They make sense. They feel carefully written, genuine, and like real people.

But most of all, Dontnod's games have never felt like products. In fact, most of their characters have historically gone against the grain of what traditionally "marketable" characters are. The first LiS took all these aforementioned stories about straight white men and chose to remix and retell it through the eyes of a young, queer, time-traveling girl instead. Tell Me Why is the first AAA game with a trans protagonist, and Tyler is voiced by a trans actor in all the language dubs. Lost Records decided that it would tell its story through four queer teenage girls, with women writers onboard, and fucking own it. As long as Dontnod keeps making games that stick to their creative integrity, I'll keep respecting their vision in whatever they decide to create next. Also, maybe I should finally watch Twin Peaks.

Thank you for reading!

[hrrtshape]

PLEASE talk about your gossip girl dr you mentioned and young coryooo🥺🥺🥺🥺

things that my boyfriend does in my better cr that....truly warms my heart ( aka emma yaps about coryo )

finished writing this up in maths class, and i just know my teacher thinks i’ve lost the plot….... why are you side-eyeing me? let me giggle in peace.

he carries (one of) my lip glosses in his pocket and acts like it’s the biggest inconvenience but pulls it out instantly when i ask.

sharing airpods in class like it’s a lifeline but he always gives me the one that’s fully charged while he suffers with the dying one.

taking pictures of me when i’m not looking and making them his lock screen. which. ugh. cutie.

he lets me draw on his arm with a pen during class and then complains when it doesn’t wash off before dinner with his parents.

matching hoodies but we pretend it’s not on purpose.

dumb little inside jokes that make absolutely no sense to anyone else. he texts me "frog incident" in the middle of a test and i have to physically leave the room because i’m laughing too hard.

he always ties my shoelaces for me if they come undone, even if it means getting on one knee in the middle of the hallway like a loser.

doodling on my notes in class and writing things like property of coriolanus snow just to get a reaction out of me. weirdo......cringe lowkey. no i love him.

him randomly biting my shoulder when he’s bored.

me (!!) biting his bicep when i'm bored.

he always waits for me outside my last class leaning against the wall like he’s in a music video.

wearing my scrunchie on his wrist because i “left it in his car” (he did NOT have to keep it on).

fell asleep on each other during long drive and woke up to find he’s holding my hand in his sleep.

we made dubai chocolate, and thank god i know my baking cause he curdled the only chocolate we had.

taking me to the gym (ew), but not for like any malicious reason, actually i was the one who suggested it because this man *exercises*!!!!! like ok miss productive at a gym at five am.

matching the maison margiela tabi shoes, it's such a small detail, but i absolutely adore it. he'd be wearing lace-ups and i'd be wearing ballet flats.

driving me to school every morning.

i just have to mention this one part cause it’s so GRAH but i was walking out of my apartment complex and he was leaning against one of the pillars smoking and i came outside and he like wrapped his arm around my shoulder and continued smoking with his free hand. like okay..........

picking me up from the airport at 1am a few days before new years because i got out of the holiday family meetups just a bit earlier to see him.

when i got drunk on soju during the lighting of the tree at rockefeller centre and he was trying to heat me up.

he pinches my cheek. and that’s so evil. like. what the fawk. cherubicusm is NOT A FUNNY THING.

if he’s tired or annoyed or just being an absolute menace, he hooks a finger through my belt loop and just tugs me where he wants me. like i’m a thing to be dragged around. (and maybe i like it a bit....)

late-night drive-thru runs where he insists on ordering for me even though i could do it myself, just so he can say “and a chocolate milkshake for my girl” like we’re in a 1950s movie.

he keeps a lipstick-stained napkin from a dinner date in his wallet and pretends it’s just in there by accident, but he refuses to throw it away.

when i do my makeup in his room, he sits on his bed and watches.

he always puts my hair behind my ear when it falls in my face. not even thinking about it. just automatic.

when i fell asleep on his shoulder during a flight, he stayed awake the whole time just so my head wouldn’t move.

he let me paint his nails, but only clear polish, and only if i promised not to tell anyone.

he never lets me carry my own suitcase. ever. even when i argue.

when we go to stupid parties, he always keeps an arm around my shoulder when we’re moving through crowds, just so we don’t get separated.

he untangles my necklace chain when it gets knotted. just takes it from my hands and fixes it like it’s nothing.

i didn't respond to his texts once and he sent me a picture of my own house like “i know you’re in there.”

this is the mooooost miniscule but ungodly detail that made me want to marry him, but, having soy milk in his fridge. mind you, he lives with his family (he's 18 and we're still in school) and i visit 7 times max per week (every day....). and. wow. ugh.

every time he borrows a pen, he returns it with the cap bitten.

when i was complaining about my hands being cold, he took them in his and blew warm air on them.

when i’m walking ahead of him, he loops a finger through my bag strap and tugs me back. like...... not so fast. like.... where do you think you’re going?

we hook our pinkies together when walking. monster.

he adjusts my necklace when it gets twisted, gently brushing his knuckles against my throat. no acknowledgment. no reaction. just fixes it and moves on. (like a freak.)

if we’re arguing and i cross my arms, he just reaches out and tugs my wrist free, uncrossing them with this calm, effortless little motion. LIKE??? HELLO??? I NEED THAT BACK, ACTUALLY???

[asterafroditis]

hi!! I really enjoyed your asexual!yuu ficlet with Octavinelle and I wanted to request the same thing but with Leona?

thanks in advance if you do write this, but please feel no pressure to do so! :D

𐔌 . ⋮ love over lust .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Leona Kingscholar x asexual gn! reader

𓏵 400 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Leona has never been one to chase after fleeting desires. If he wants something, he takes it, and if he doesn’t, he doesn’t waste his time. When you tell him you’re asexual, he barely reacts—just a slow blink and a lazy, “Yeah? And?” Like hell he’d care about something like that. If he’s chosen you, then that’s it. End of story.

But if you expect him to ask a bunch of questions or try to ‘understand’ it on a deeper level, you’ll be waiting a long time. Leona doesn’t need some grand explanation. He just takes you as you are. Still, his instincts are sharp, and if he ever senses that you’re feeling self-conscious or unsure about what you bring to the relationship, he doesn’t let it slide. He hates seeing you doubt yourself over something he never even saw as an issue.

“Tch. You think I’d waste my time with someone who wasn’t worth it? You’re mine. That’s all that matters.”

Leona’s love is quiet but solid. He’s not the type to smother you with affection, but he’s there—a steady, reliable presence that makes it clear you never have to prove anything to him. He shows his feelings through actions rather than words: letting you nap against him, draping his jacket over your shoulders when you look cold, giving you the last piece of food off his plate without saying a word. He won’t change his personality for anyone, but if you pay attention, you’ll notice that you get a side of him no one else does.

When he pulls you into his arms, it’s never out of obligation. It’s because he wants to. When he rests his head in your lap, it’s not just because he’s tired—it’s because he trusts you enough to let his guard down. You don’t have to be anything more than yourself to deserve that.

If anyone ever dares to make you feel lesser for how you love, Leona will put them in their place before you even have the chance to react. He doesn’t tolerate anyone talking down to what’s his.

“People got too much to say about things that ain’t their damn business. You’re with me, herbivore. That’s enough.”

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

second chance. l Frankie "Catfish" Morales

Summary: you broke up after a quarrel, now you've met again

Warnings: angst, mentioning drug addiction, crying, breakup, mentioned Santi, some fluff at the end

A/N: I had to clear my head. I'm not proud of it, but I had to write something. Be gentle. Thank you for being here and reading these scribbles.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist][Frankie Morales masterlist]

"Hi, you look good."

You didn't expect those words, but you knew that voice so well that your heart skipped a beat. A strange feeling filled your body, as if someone had suddenly stripped you of all your insides and left you empty. Even though the pub was filled with people, suddenly it was just you and him.

"Hi, Frankie." You replied, trying to keep your voice neutral. "You look good too."

A small smile appeared on his lips, he probably realized that it was just a polite greeting. A greeting for those who know each other. But you were more than that, right?

You didn't expect to meet him in this pub that evening. It was a strange assumption, because after all, you lived in the same city. However, when you break up with someone, and that breakup was like a hurricane and an earthquake in one, you don't usually try to meet them again soon.

And so it was with you and Frankie. Almost a year ago, maybe a little longer. And now he was standing in front of you. In a clean shirt and dark jeans, in a cap you knew so well. Brown eyes stared at you with the same attentiveness as before. He really looked good. Like he had a good night's sleep, eaten a few solid meals and... was clean.

"Do you come here often?" he asked, he noticed you looking around the crowd of people looking for someone with your eyes. "Um, are you here with someone?"

"With a friend." you replied. "Do you remember Sarah?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I remember. A girls' night out?"

"Something like that. But no, I don't come here often. I don't have much free time."

Frankie smiled, and a part of your brain woke up sending you a signal - you loved his smile so much.

"I always thought you worked too much." he said, winking at you.

"That's not it." you looked down and there was silence for a moment.

You felt embarrassed by his presence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. You had worked through all the bad feelings you had when you broke up, and you actually missed him a little. Did it make sense? You had broken your hearts, but you still missed him. Was it masochistic?

"I've been going to school for a while now. You know, I told you about it. Back in the day..."

Frankie's eyes widened with interest as he remembered what you were talking about. "No, shit! Really? That's great! You've wanted to do this for a long time, so good for you."

A warm feeling crept up the back of your neck, but you smiled widely. "Thank you."

Frankie bit his lip and nodded in appreciation. "I've always thought you were incredibly smart. So that's what's taking up so much of your time now? That and work?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I go days without a proper meal or... I'm sorry, that must bore you."

"No! Go on, darling."

The sweet nickname slipped out of his mouth naturally, and it was even more natural when he took your elbow and led you a little to the side so you could talk in peace. The smell of his cologne filled your nostrils, you knew it so well. Your body began to react with pleasant excitement to his presence.

"And what about you? How's life?" you asked.

Frankie adjusted his cap and let out a breath. "Good. Quite good." he replied. "I changed companies, and now I have really good conditions."

"That's great."

"Yeah, I think so too."

It was late when he got home, but he could feel something was wrong from the very beginning. All the lights were on, and the noises coming from the bedroom were rather unusual.

Damn it, you should be asleep already. He didn't feel like starting another row, and they filled these walls almost every day. However, he dragged himself down the hallway and gently pushed the door open.

Frankie didn't expect this. There was an open suitcase on the bed. He noticed a bundle of your clothes thrown into it in disarray. The drawers in the dresser and the wardrobe were open.

He cleared his throat and took a step, but at the same moment you came out of the bathroom carrying your cosmetics in your hands. You stood there paralyzed when you saw Frankie in the doorway.

Your eyes were swollen from crying, but there was something else in them. Anger and stubbornness, determination.

"What's going on?" he asked in a slightly hoarse voice.

You lifted your chin slightly. "What does this look like?" you asked as well, quickly approaching the bed and throwing your things into the suitcase. With a graceful movement you closed it "I'm leaving. It's over."

A cold shiver ran down his spine. He took a few more steps and put his hands on his hips watching you struggle with the latches.

"Come on..." Frankie began "It's late. Let's talk about this."

You didn't react. Something inside him boiled and he grabbed the handle of the suitcase, dragging it across the bed towards him.

"Leave it!" you hissed, catching it and holding it "I'm not joking, Frankie! I'm leaving! I've had enough!"

"What this time?" he replied a little too loudly "You're making a scene!"

Before the words left his mouth he already knew he had overdone it. Your eyes widened in a second.

You reached into your pants pocket and after a moment you threw something at him. The small bag bounced off his broad chest and fell silently to the carpet. He recognized it immediately.

"I found it in the car. You must have dropped it last time." you growled.

"It's not like that..."

"Bullshit!" Tears welled up in your eyes. "I've been hearing the same lies for months! I know exactly why you got fired! I wanted to help you, and you promised me you'd never... Ohhh!"

You grabbed the handle of your suitcase and pulled it to the ground, then headed for the door. You pushed past him without letting him grab your arm. Frankie had taken you to the edge. You'd been together for almost two years, and you really loved him. But his addiction was becoming more important than you. You asked, you wanted to help.

The therapist you found for him told you that Frankie had only been to see him three times before he stopped showing up at all. He told you that he went there regularly. Then there were the problems at work and he got fired, he started coming home later and later, and when you were looking for something that had fallen on the floor of your car and you found that damn bag - you already knew.

Your heart was breaking with every step, but you knew that Frankie needed shock therapy. You knew you couldn't...

"Frankie!"

You almost reached the door when you suddenly lost ground under your feet. Strong arms wrapped around your waist and Frankie lifted you up. You started kicking your legs.

"Let me go!" you screamed.

"You're not going anywhere! You can't!" he thundered, putting you down and turning to face him "You have to listen to me, it's not like that..."

"Shut up! You've been lying all this time! All this time!"

"Not when I said I loved you, hermosa."

"Oh! Cut this shit! This isn't love!" your face was full of rage, you wanted to hurt him, to stick a needle in him so hard that it would hurt him for a long time "You just needed someone to clean up the mess after you! Someone to pat you on the head and let you do all this! You needed a pussy you could fuck!"

There was silence. Frankie's hands were gripping your shoulders tightly, his eyes darkened.

"You know that's not true." he finally said.

"Yeah? And what of what you're saying is true? Nothing. Zero. I wanted to help you, but you don't care at all." you jerked away "Let me go, Frankie."

"You have to listen to me..."

"Let me go! Now!"

His fingers loosened and you slipped out of his hands. You grabbed your suitcase again and this time you reached the door.

"I love you." his resigned voice reached your ears.

"I'm not so sure about that anymore."

You took a sip of beer while listening to Frankie. He seemed excited about his new job, and the energy that flowed from him was simply positive. His hand would occasionally brush your arm or wrist as you both burst out laughing, his eyes looking at you with the tenderness you knew from the beginning of your acquaintance.

"I guess I'll have to go back now." You sighed, glancing at your phone. "I have classes tomorrow."

"Do you like it?" he asked, watching you text your friend back, informing her that you had to leave.

"What do you mean?" you looked up at him. Frankie shrugged.

"Your life. Now. Because it seems to me that you're different. More fulfilled? Happier?"

"I don't know, I haven't thought about it to be honest."

He nodded, his hand shyly finding yours. "Can I give you a lift home?"

You agreed. Maybe you shouldn't have, maybe it was a mistake. But Frankie had somehow found his way to your heart, and you didn't want to part ways with him yet.

"When you left..." he began as you drove through the empty streets towards your apartment "It hit me. Really hard."

You clenched your fingers, but you couldn't look in his direction. But Frankie clearly wanted to talk, maybe he had been waiting for this for a really long time and could finally get it all off his chest.

"I drank for three days. I don't remember much from that period. Santi showed up at my place and... He told me something I'll never forget."

You could barely recognize your own voice. "What did he say?"

Frankie cleared his throat. "He said it was all my fault. That I was dragging you down, and you were trying to keep us both afloat the whole time. He also said that if I wanted you back, that if I loved you at all, I should do something about it."

Something tightened your throat and your eyes stung from the tears that were seeping into your eyelids. The car turned, you were already close to your apartment.

"I went to therapy. Santi took me there twice a week. It was a terrible time. He had to take my phone because I wanted to call you every day. I don't know how I managed to get through it without you."

"But you did it." You dared to look at him, a weak smile appeared on his face. "I'm so proud of you, Frankie."

"Thank you."

The car stopped. Your journey ended, and you got out, feeling like your legs were almost giving out under you. You whispered a quiet "thank you" and "I'm glad I saw you, Frankie." and then feeling like your heart almost jumped out of your chest, you headed for the door.

"I still love you."

You closed your eyes. His voice was clear, determined. You stopped, feeling like you could fall apart at any moment.

"Frankie..." you whispered, but he wouldn't let you do more.

He was right behind you now, you could feel the heat radiating from him. Your body reacted to his closeness.

"I knew you'd be at this pub today."

You turned around and looked at him, surprised. Frankie seemed embarrassed, but he continued.

"I met Sarah a while ago. We talked..."

He noticed a small frown between your eyebrows, "She didn't tell me anything..."

Frankie shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged, "I begged her not to tell you. Listen, all this year you were the only thing that kept me alive. I wanted to be clean again, but I also wanted to be able to look you in the eye again. I'm sorry, hermosa... I'm sorry you went through all that with me. It was hell, and you tried so hard to save me."

You couldn't stop the tears that began to flow down your cheeks. You didn't even react when a warm hand touched your cheek and he wiped the tears away with his thumb.

"I still love you, hermosa." Frankie continued. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to stop. But I know I can't expect that from you, not after what I did."

"You hurt me, Frankie..." you sobbed, you saw the pain in his eyes, the same pain you still felt in your heart. "I wanted to save you, I wanted to save us... Maybe I wasn't strong enough?"

"No, it's not like that!" he shook his head, taking your face in both hands. "It wasn't a job for just one person. I understand that now. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I let you down so much."

You instinctively snuggled into his chest. Damn, you missed him so much this year. Almost every day you wondered what was happening to him, or you thought back to the times when everything was fine. There were days when you hated Frankie, when you resented yourself for always having him in your heart. But now you understood - you had to fall apart to understand what was truly important to you.

Frankie stroked your back, repeating silent apologies, and you felt as if all the tension that you had in your body was slowly leaving you.

"You okay?" he asked when you finally pulled away from him, wiping the last tears with your hand and probably completely smudging your mascara.

You nodded, "Yeah. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"Don't apologize, hermosa. You have nothing to apologize for."

There was silence for a moment. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, rather one where you were both trying to gather your thoughts. Finally, you were the first to speak.

"I'm so glad you managed to do all this. I'm really proud of you, Frankie. Now... Now your life will be different, better."

"You think so?" he asked, and you looked at him surprised. "I guess you didn't hear what I said earlier. I love you, and I don't know if I'll ever stop. But I know I can't force you to do anything. You listened to me, that's already a lot. Maybe that's all I deserve."

He must have already accepted it, except that he lost you, because before you could answer anything, he slowly moved towards his car. You watched him, feeling your heart pounding in your chest like crazy. You weren't even aware that you had opened your mouth, only the sound of your voice that cut through the silence brought you back to your senses.

"I'm finishing classes tomorrow after three. If you want to go for coffee, or..."

In an instant Frankie turned around "How about for lunch? You'll definitely be hungry, and you said you haven't been eating very well lately."

You smiled and nodded. "Lunch sounds good."

"Wonderful." He smiled too. That damn smile of his.

"So... Are we in touch?"

"Of course, hermosa."

With a slightly calmer heart you disappeared into the building, feeling that the smile didn't leave your face. 

Maybe a second chance really did exist? Maybe you too had a chance for a new beginning...

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[ki2rins]

⟢ SUGARBOT - pjs

eleven - phone call

warnings: petnames (good girl) , mention of being cheated on, just yn spilling her guts out about her insecurities in the written part.

written wc: 1523 words

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the phone buzzed quietly on the nightstand, loud enough to disrupt your slumber. groggily, you reached for your phone and answered the call. “hello?” you mumbled, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.

“hello pretty, enjoyed your sleep?” an unfamiliar voice flowed to your ears, like a tune you had never heard before.

wait this cant be happening…

you sat upright immediately, your heart suddenly racing. your eyes scanned the caller id, and there his name showed “jjongie ෆ”. you thought your mind was playing tricks on you, but no, there it was, the name, the phone call you hadnt expected to see on your screen.

at that moment, the unfamiliar voice spoke up again, breaking the silence. “you awake yet, sweet girl?” his voice had you in a chokehold, your throat tensed up and nothing came out of your mouth when you tried voicing something out.

“um hi…im awake.” you muttered out softly after clearing your throat, dry from both your words and from your sleepiness. your voice felt fragile while your heart beat faster than usual, anticipating what he’ll say next.

the guy on the other side of the line was panicking, jay’s usual calm and composed demeanour faded away. he was like a middle schooler calling his crush for the first time. each word that came out of his mouth spilled out with much consideration, not wanting to scare the poor girl that just woke up.

“so…um i just wanted to wake you up and um…make sure you were well rested before doing your assignments again.” jay quickly said, stammering out of pure nervousness. he tried treating it like one of his daily business calls, but how so when your presence is on the other line?

there was a pause as he hesitated, not hearing a response from you. “im sorry. im pretty sure you werent expecting me to really call you.”

“no jjongie, its okay. its nice hearing from you, makes me more certain that i havent been talking to some random stranger.”

hearing those words made jay’s heart skip a beat. maybe not just a beat. he was hundred percent sure it skipped a couple of beats. you called him jjongie - the nickname you chose to call him by. the specially curated nickname that touched the depths of his heart.

a warm smile spread across jay’s face, the tension in his voice easing just slightly. “thank you, sweet thing. you dont know how much that means to me.” he murmured, his voice softer now. “just didnt want you to overwork yourself. must be odd hearing this from a workaholic huh?”

you chuckled hearing him bring up the joke you made earlier. “come on! you arent letting it go huh!”

you flopped back onto your bed, your mind racing, not from confusion or awkwardness anymore, but from the undeniable connection that had been building between you both. you were sure this wasnt just infatuation, you were straight up falling for him. but there was still that underlying sense of disbelief - how could someone just be so nice towards you?

you had your fair share of relationships - puppy love, situationships, talking stages, exes, been there, done that. you ended your last relationship with a classmate named jiwoo six months ago, who unexpectedly cheated on you. at first, he treated you like he was head over heels for you, downbad even, comparable to how jay is currently treating you, which makes you so wary of him, and any hidden intentions he had.

but something about jay just feels different. his genuine care for your well-being felt completely unforced, like something you hadnt felt before, not even from your three close friends.

“are you still there?” jay’s voice broke through your thoughts, warm and a little concerned.

“yea, sorry…just thinking of something.” you replied softly, your voice trailing off as the weight of your thoughts settled in.

“well, care to share whats on your mind then? maybe you’ll feel better after you let it out.” jay said, his tone gentle yet persistent, almost like he genuinely wanted to know what was bothering you.

you hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much you wanted to reveal. but something about how he phrased his words just made him seemed like a safe space to share whatever was weighing on your mind without judgement.

“its just…i dont know. i guess this whole thing just caught me off guard? wasnt really expecting someone or you, to suddenly come into my life and treat me like the greatest gift of all time.” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “i cant lie, i have been treated like this before and after that i just get crushed into gravel, like i was nothing to them. so i guess…im just scared that this ‘whole being nice to me’ thing is just too good to be true. i dont know what you want from me, jjongie. and thats the part i cant figure out, and it scares me.”

there was a pause on the other end of the line, and for a second, you wondered if you had said too much, overshared or even scared him off with the sudden confession of your insecurities. but then jay spoke, his voice steady and reassuring.

“dont be scared, pretty.” that simple sentence from jay could easily sweep you off from your feet, but the fear still stays. but what he says next really stemmed the feelings you have for him.

“heres the thing and i want you to hear this clearly okay? i dont want anything from you, little girl. if i demand something from you, the only thing i want and the only thing that could satisfy me is your happiness. im not here to use you or throw you aside. im not perfect and im not pretending to be, but what i can promise is that im here for you no matter what. for the real you. i want to see you, all of you. no games, no fake feelings and no hidden agendas.”

his honesty hit you like a truck, and you couldnt help but feel a weight lifted off your shoulders.

“i know its hard to trust me since we just started talking to each other, but im determined to win your trust. i want you for you and i’ll show you that i mean it. im not going anywhere sweet thing. when youre ready, i’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

you took in a shaky breath, feeling the knot in your chest slowly begin to loosen. for the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could let your guard down. not all the way, but maybe enough to enjoy this adoration from someone without guilt.

“thank you, jay.” you whispered, the words almost feeling too small for what you were really feeling. “i…i want to believe that. i want-” you paused, unsure if you should really share your true feelings. but a surge of confidence flowed through your body as if it brought the words out of your mouth.

“i want to believe in you.”

there was a soft exhale on the other end of the line, and then jay’s voice, even more gentle now, filled the space between you two.

“you dont have to rush it, sweet thing. like what i always say, you can take all the time you need. im not going anywhere.” his words were soft, softer than the hundred percent cotton pillow you were currently laying on. you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady your breath, the calmness in his voice almost making it easier to relax, tempting to make you fall back to dreamland if you could.

“im scared” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “but…i think im starting to trust you.”

upon hearing your words, jay felt his heart warmed up instantly. hearing how you could open up and slowly trust him just made him felt so at ease.

“im honored, pretty, i really am.” jay poured all his sincerity into those six words. “we’ll figure it out together, at your pace.”

your heart fluttered in your chest at his words, and for the first time in awhile, you allowed yourself to believe in the possibility of something pure. for once, you felt that you could let things unfold in their own time.

“thank you.” you whispered again, the words feeling more meaningful this time. “thank you for being patient with me.”

“always, pretty. any place, anytime, just for you.”

the night went on, filled with chatter, laughter and just pure bliss from the both of you. the connection between you two felt more genuine as each word and sentence flowed effortlessly, no longer guarded but completely honest. the uncertainty that once lingered in the air had slowly dissipated, replaced by a warmth that you hadnt expected but welcomed nonetheless.

maybe it was too soon to say, too soon to fully trust as well, but in that moment, you didnt care about anything but just him, and he too, didnt care about anything but just you.

————————————————— rin's yap: my gosh i didnt expect myself to pour my heart and soul into this written part...but really hope yall could see the pure adoration jay and yn has for each other <3

taglist! : open! reply on this post and i'll add you to the taglist

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© ki2rins 2025, please do not copy or plagiarise my work.

[winterwhisperz-blog]

Since this is ts year I’ve been wanting to get back into writing hcs for the cast! >:] this was the first idea that came to mind I hope you enjoyyy !!

How The Ts Cast would comfort You After A Nightmare

Warnings: uhhh ?? Probably ooc ?? Mentions of smoking since—Ais- a lil suggestive in vere’s but i think that’s it!!

Notes: Gn mc, fluff, somewhat of established relationships??

Leander:

Leander notices your unease before you’re even fully awake. He doesn’t usually sleep, even with your head on his chest. (Or vice versa) He relaxes in your presence, yes, but he can’t force his eyes to shut.

He feels you shift, sees your brows furrow, and knows something isn’t right.

He loves nothing more than being the first person you see after a nightmare. The first person that gets to comfort you.

He will use the fact he can touch your hands to its full advantage.

Takes them and puts his cheeks in your palms. Leaning slightly over you so you can fiddle with his hair.

Will definitely bring your hand to his chest too, “Listen to my heartbeat. I’m here. You’re here. We’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

Hm hm so sweet

Still don’t trust anything he says

Further into your relationship, you can convince him to sing to you.

His deep voice (which I’m still processing btw he did NOT give me deep voice vibes) lulls you into a peaceful rhythm. You can -feel- every note leave his chest, his hands tracing circles on your spine.

If he can get you to talk about what you dreamt about, he’d tell you that he’ll protect you from whatever is bothering you.

You can trust him to be stronger than what or who you’re frightened of. You just have to trust him.

Ais

Ahhh, comfort is not his thing. Or he doesn’t think it is.

But he understands, at least.

He knows what it’s like struggle with nightmares. I’m imagining having dreams in a hive mind is the absolute WORST

He’ll most likely tell you to get up and walk around. Probably come out and have a smoke with him. Get the night air on your face, get your mind grounded.

He’s the opposite of Leander in the sense he won’t ask what you had a nightmare about. He knows to give you space.

He will listen if you do want to talk about it though.

He’s there for you, a steady presence that is just comforting to be around. And he’ll listen for as long as you need. Or just stand by you until you’re ready for sleep again.

Will make you tea once you’re back inside, to warm you up.

“Calms the brain down.” He says as he hands you a cup.

You know he’s talking from experience.

Princess doesn’t leave your side when she notices you’re upset. She’ll put her head on your lap as you drink your tea, offering—not exactly *fur* therapy (idk what…soulless have?) but comfort nonetheless.

If you stay up the rest of the night, Ais is up with you. By the end of the night you have a blanket over your shoulders, an empty cup of tea and a small sense of ease.

Kuras

Still unsure if he sleeps? But if you’re together he won’t argue against sleeping in bed with you.

Similar in a way to Ais, in how he’ll give you a cup of tea and advise things that helps you ground yourself.

Helps you mediate, or just simply clear your mind.

He’ll hold your bandaged hands, and you can feel the warmth despite the barrier.

Soft voice telling you to find five things you can see if the nightmare sent you into a panic attack.

If you’re restless after you wake up, he’ll propose you take a night-time stroll with him.

Will ask you once what you dreamt about, with the intent of knowing how to help you, but if you don’t want to talk about it he won’t pry.

His presence is an anchor, and after just a short amount of time you’re feeling peaceful.

He will try to help you get back to sleep, as a full rest is important. And it’s surprisingly easy to slip back into unconsciousness when you lay next to him. A protective arm around you, the smell of his hair .

You know the comforting feeling of warm water on your hands when you wake up super early? Thst kinda makes you wanna dose off again? That’s the same vibe his aura gives.

Your dreams are full of light when you manage to shut your eyes again.

Mhin

Don’t have anything for this one because if I was sleeping next to Mhin nightmares aren’t what I’m having okay okay

Just kidding I have quite a few ideas 😇

Like Ais, Mhin doesn’t really know how to comfort. At least not anymore.

In fact, taking in Mhin’s character I’ll say you weren’t at the stage yet where you were sleeping together (😖💔)

My vision is this

You awake from your nightmare, panting, sweat rolling down your skin, and you just need to get out.

You go wherever your feet take you, desperately needing fresh air. The walls are too tight, the presence of strangers in the same building as you is suddenly nauseating. (Real.)

You don’t even really know where you’re going, and don’t get snapped out of your haze till you hear a familiar scolding voice. (Baby ur my angggggellll)

“I thought I told you to stay off the streets at night.”

Now whether you tell them you had a nightmare or not, Mhin still notices something’s up.

And though you aren’t at the ‘sleeping together’ stage, you are still steadily trusting each other.

Mhin takes you to the one place they know is a comfort. The alley with most of Eridia’s stray cats.

Fur therapy babyyyy !

After you spend some time with the cats, possibly opening up to Mhin, they then follow you back just to make sure ur stupid butt gets home safely.

But but hhhh

Okay okay listen, you know how Mhin knows anatomy ??

Well they also know the exact pressure points on your body that can calm down your mind.

Their… THEIR hands showing you where to PrESs hhhhr (sorry the beast is winning, I can’t control it)

A pleasant coldness against your skin, the barest touch on your neck when they show you the point under your collarbone.

Before they leave, they slip your covers over your shoulders. And when they think you’re asleep, they leave you with a gentle kiss on the forehead. ☹️

Vere

Ahhh vere vere vere…my arch nemesis…

Now okay- YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE

Soft vere 🥺

Maybe you’re at the point in your relationship when he only sleeps well when he can smell your scent, feel you near. Hear your heartbeat merging with his.

Sleeping with vere is very secure, perhaps a bit possessive, his most gentle also his most violent.

His grip is tight around you, claws sometimes digging uncomfortably into your back. Like he expects someone to come pry you out of his hands.

But his tail is also a comforting weight, gentle as he wraps it around you.

Like leander, he knows instantly when you’re having the nightmare. He lets out a growl as you shift, but it’s not at you specifically (well- maybe a LITTLE because ur kinda throwing off his beauty sleep) but more at whatever must be scaring you.

When he wakes up, notices it’s a nightmare, he feels annoyed he can’t actually fight anyone.

I’m noticing a pattern in the fact not many of the cast knows how to comfort lmaohshshsh

He may make a few flirty remarks “We could always do something to distract you, my dear.”

And hey if that works that works but I’m scared of that close of intimacy so I have a different thought in mind

Side note do you think vere is the type to use ‘my dear?’ I really can’t tell if he’s the type to use that or ‘darling’ for some reason it doesn’t fit in my eyes

ANYWAY

I do think either way he uses something to distract you. He tells you stories about his day, about his life—you honestly can’t tell if the tales are real or not.

But some of them get you laughing

…you also get to pet his ears <333

Idk if foxes purr but he does get so cozy he makes whatever the fox equivalent is.

Holds you somehow closer when you’re back asleep. And it may be silly but he can’t go back to sleep because of how angry he is that isn’t at full power.

You should have nothing to fear when you’re with him. Well, other than him himself.

If your nightmare was a product of someone who hurt you, they are now on his ‘will eat once free’ list.

Annnd there we have it !!! I hope you enjoyed !! <3 I’m still pretty rusty but hopefully I’ll get back into a small groove ! (Ignore HOW MHIN’S WAS A LIL LONGER THAN THE OTHERS.)

I hope you eat your favorite treat, see a really cool bug, (unless ur scared of them) and spot a heart somewhere in nature!

[goldmanguyperson]

To be crystal clear to people - AGAB is not an identity, it is an event. And you are not assigned humanity, at least absolutely not in the same way - it is not an event that occurs legally or medically. You are assumed human, yes, but this is very different than what people mean when they talk about AGAB seriously. Nobody is ever mutilated specifically to appear human (at least in the actual literal species sense and not the dehumanization sense). Nobody has "HUMAN" on their birth certificate. Trying to use this language in terms of species identity does not make literally any sense whatsoever when you actually understand what AGAB is meant to describe. It simply does not fit.

So please, if this resonates with you, I ask you to please examine the way you think about AGAB already

what do yall think of the term "assigned human at birth" for alterhumans (specifically transspecies critters)? between physical alterhumanity and all the definitions out there, i'm starting to favor it...

[worstgenerationloser]

just a random thought but like sanji x reader on their wedding night🤭 I'll leave the creative writing to u

,, My Person. ''

Pairing... Sanji x GN! Reader

Summary... after a day full of festivities with your now husband Sanji, you two share your bed for the first time as a married couple.

Contains... wedding vows, fluff and slight nsfw, soft romantic moments, sanji shenanigans, undressing eachother to shower, kissing, and sanji freaking out over you.

A/N: he's such a cutie, i loved writing this! Happy birthday to this handsome man 💞

Casting a cool blue hue over the two of you, the moon congratulates you with the widest smile… Is what Sanji says, anyways. He hasn't been talking much since you two got back, and he seems a bit stiff, you think it's just him trying to keep all his blood in his nose. Sanji always had rushed to your side in the most dire moments, and he knew for a fact he would marry you eventually. He just can't believe it's actually happened— you looked so gorgeous in your wedding attire, he loved the adoring looks the crew gave you when he first announced your engagement together, how they all congratulated him and the fact that his eyes were stuck on none other than you every step of the way.

A breath of fresh air, what with everything he has had to endure. Sanji knows his love for you takes over his entire body and soul, he says his love for you is his entire reason for being— maybe you are a blessing bestowed upon him from the grand creator of this world? He says silly things like that so often, but he makes sure you know it. In the softly colored bedroom of the lodging you have chosen, there's a wondrous balcony onlooking the sea— which seems to have presented the purest blue coloring for your perfect day; everything seemed so grand, not in the sense that it's making up for a lack of sincerity in your union, but for representation of the grandest union of two lively souls.

The beauty of the balcony, venue, and sea weren't nearly as beautiful as Sanji. A face painted of pure joy and adoration with each glance he shot your way, but you noticed his fraying nerves when he grabbed your hand to place the ring onto your finger. His hands were so shaky, and silent tears cascaded down his flushed cheeks while his pure smile beamed straight to cast away any lingering shadows. His vows were so clear, though he was struggling not to cry anymore, how dare he taint the memory of your wedding in such a way? Tears borne from love didn't count if it was from you, but he hated crying in front of you.

“My most cherished lover, I will accept you in your entirety. Things will never be left unsaid, for my heart will speak aloud to you forevermore, not once will I forget myself for as long as I am bound to you; which will be as long as my heart, mind, and body will be left on this lovely earth. Even then, I must promise that our souls will never travel apart, because on this day, we are informing the sea, the sky, the stars, and the entirety of the universe that together we are. Smitten as I am with you, I will never overlook your character. Not only are you my love; you are a part of my life in every possible way. My companion in all things romance, my crew, my heart… I solemnly swear, most of all, that I will be proudly at your side, no matter what turbulence occurs in our long lives shared together.”

Franky was trying his best not to cry, meanwhile Brook was shaking in his seat, holding back jokes for the tender moment. Such sincere smiles gathered from your friends and those who have aided you along the way, but Sanji and you kept your gazes locked onto each other. It was like you could see the beat of his heart, and he could see the vows ready to be spoken in yours.

Being pirates, you can't have your marriage recognized by the government, but who needs those bastards to know you're in love anyways? Franky is ready to loudly announce it to anyone who looks at you or Sanji’s way, why do pirates care about what the government thinks? If two can love, then they can keep their passion private, or they may be free to soar it across the skies as they please. Sanji would proudly announce it to his fiercest enemies faces, you’re sure.

Sanji is still nervous. His heart is racing like he's supposed to rehearse a play all by himself whilst playing every single role there is— but he's just sitting next to you in bed. His blue eyes flicker over your features to commit them to his memory once again as if he hasn't memorized every mark and every dip and curve on your body, he needs to do something to stop such intense longing for what is already in his grasp. His hands, shaky yet warmer than ever, reach out to touch you; but Sanji balls his hand into a fist, bringing his knuckles to his mouth to sink his teeth into. Though he's next to you in bed, he feels like he's thousands of years away.

You're both still dressed in your clothes from the reception, matching the beautiful colors which soared across the ceilings at your venue. You should have been changed a bit ago, but you can't brush off the fact that Sanji is acting odd, when you see him nervously bite around his knuckle, you smile softly and begin to speak.

“Sanji, calm down…” Your own hand reaches out, tracing the back of his palm and easing his teeth away from his knuckles. Though his hand is loose from the clench of his jaw, his soft pink lips remain parted, and he looks like a lost puppy for a second. Well, it isn't all that different from the way he is when you're separated for longer than an hour or two. But besides when you were getting ready, he was there every step of the way. “It's improper of me to abandon my love on this important day.” Was his newest excuse for standing outside the door when you went to the bathroom.

“Oh… I apologize for… My distant mind. I swear I only think thoughts of us.” You watch him catch his bottom lip between his teeth, his posture loosening only ever so slightly.

“That's okay. Think whatever you want to, Sanji. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon…” Murmuring, you begin to pick up a soft smile as you move a little closer to where he is sitting atop the bed, your weights recognized as one on the firm mattress. Hands finding their way to his collar, they start to unbutton his dress shirt, your actions aren't entirely sexual in nature, surely many couples do that, but you would prefer to put his nerves back into the right places before Sanji starts to malfunction.

“Would a warm shower help? Or would you prefer a bath?” You watch as your proposal; In real time, allows a spark to return to Sanji’s eyes, but then you think maybe you moved too quickly when his eyes widen and his lips quiver as he looks you up and down.

“B-Bath… With… With- With you?”

Ah, your first mistake on your wedding night. Well, it's entirely your fault but it's comforting seeing him go back to his usual self. And again, he catches himself and prevents another nosebleed.

“Gah! No! My apologies, my dear, I… I meant to ask if you would like to bathe together… As a married couple. It's a common thing with modern couples, you see—” After his loud gasp, he begins to stammer and then pause when his brain processes his own words. Does he think he sounds creepy? His perverted nature has seemed sweet in nature to you as of lately, so maybe he's realized himself for once.

“M…Ma—... Married...”

Stiffer than a stone statue, Sanji’s body freezes entirely. It took longer than you feel comfortable admitting to just to get Sanji back to earth, while his shirt still remained halfway undone. How can you get him naked with his… eccentric personality, then? Do you bribe him like a dog chasing after a bone? Distract him? Ah, you should just drag him along with you before he gets on all fours or something. It's endearing sometimes you swear, but you're not sure how much everyone else believes that.

“Apologies. I can't fathom that I am with you… Ah, no— I can't believe we are married. Oh, I feel like a fool.”

Cupping his face in his hands and wallowing in utter despair at his slippery speech, he fails to realize that you are dragging him along with you in the direction of the bathroom door. When he removes his hands, he's greeted by the feeling of his belt being undone, making him pause. Not again, Sanji… And with gritted teeth, he masks himself, but his eyes twitch and his nostrils flare repeatedly, it's not like he's never been nude around you, he feels like it's even more significant considering you are officially forever.

When his pants drop, he politely steps out of them, kicking them to the side as his hands reach out for you to return the favor. It's been done before, he can do it again, but his hands hesitated as he awaited a confirmation.

“Yes, you may undress me.” Your voice is clearer inside the bathroom.

Breathing a sigh of relief, his hands start to reach for the fabric of your clothing, sliding it down your shoulders, the pads of his fingers slipping down each inch of skin newly exposed. It didn't feel as lewd as it was, standing half naked together. There weren't any shy giggles, no heavy panting, no hands dancing across each other's skin for any reason other than to shed clothing. It could take a turn once you two reach the shower, maybe you two would end up in a tangle of passionate limbs, but Sanji would prefer to love you somewhere more comfortable.

He respects you. Though he's dense at times, though he can be perverse and pathetic, it's all out of the love he has for you. He's vulnerable with you more than he ever knew, he sheds his skin and presents his back to you, he's not afraid to be less of a man if he cries near you. He doesn't worry you with tears of any sort, but at times he feels so lucky that his life has taken such a positive turn and allowed him to find people who love and care for him the same way his mother did. Would she be proud her boy found his true love?

Opening his heart, he lets you feel him. He lets you hold his hands, he lets you in the kitchen though he hates being disturbed— before you were his love, you were always the one for him. Not once did he view you as pure romance, you were a person, and you were his person.

Pss... you... you should comment and reblog👀

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Monster Movie | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader ( :0 ? )

Warnings: all of 'em. put 'em all here. mentions of disordered eating, descriptions of severe anxiety, dean is lowkey being the worst, burns, injuries, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 3587

A/N: I'm gonna keep it very real with y'all. Please heed the warnings about anxiety and disordered eating. If I am honest, I kinda got triggered writing it as I pulled the experience of my character from my own experience in a previous relationship. Obviously, the circumstances were very different, but I used to get tonnnssss of anxiety specifically while eating that ended in me becoming malnourished because the person I was dating was so horrible to me. Dean isn't like that, though, and I guess I kind of used this chapter and this part of the character's arc to heal that pain still within me, even after years.

Please know I understand if you have to skip out on this chapter for the reasons above. The beginning of season 4 is going to be very rocky as Dean and (Y/N) continue to learn to trust each other again, but I hope to see you in the coming weeks as the storm begins to calm. Much love to you, as always.

-m

“Dean,” you breathed out, eyes filling with tears. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” He sat in the chair across from the bed that he’d undoubtedly put you in.

“Dean, I’m so sorry—” 

That seemed to send a ping of anger through him, but he suppressed it. “We can talk about that later. Are you okay?” 

“I think so,” you said. You pushed yourself up with a wince and noticed the gauze around your left forearm and right calf. “You did this?” 

He nodded. 

You smiled lopsidedly, cheeks heating. “Thank you.” You tried to joke lightheartedly. “You’re finally getting a hang of the right way to dress a burn.”

“Eh, I had a good teacher,” he shrugged. 

You’d missed this so much; the comfort in the mundane moments with him. 

Both of you seemed a little too scared to say anything, and you stared at your scraped up hands instead of at him. 

“I’m still pissed at you,” he stated.

You nodded. “I figured.”

Another moment of tense silence passed between you.

“Once you’re healed, I still want you gone,” Dean said. His blunt tone felt like a sucker punch to the gut.

Even still, you nodded. “That’s fair.”

Dean nodded sharply and got to his feet. When he’d nearly left the room, he turned around again. “Why aren’t you fighting me on this?”

You threw your hands up in defeat. “What do you want me to say, Dean?”

He approached the bed you were in once more. “Something. Anything. Be mad. Yell at me. Call me an asshole. Dammit, tell me what happened. Explain it all away. Just something!” 

You used the side of your thumb to apply pressure to the bridge of your nose. “Well, you pretty definitively told me to leave and not to come back at Bobby’s.”

“I gave you a choice!”

“A choice you couldn’t even begin to understand the difficulty of!” you shouted back. 

“Okay, so tell me!” he yelled. “Help me understand! Because you’re not making sense to me, (Y/N)!”

You huffed, going quiet for a moment. “I can’t,” you finally breathed out, hiding your face from him. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Of course, you can’t,” he muttered angrily. He started back for the door. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him hesitate while he grabbed the door handle. When the door shut behind him, you felt your heart sink.

****

Being in the backseat of the Impala again was an amazing feeling. You were tired of going it alone. However, the tense atmosphere was something you could do without.

“The radio around here sucks,” Dean grumbled. He turned it off, briefly stealing a glance at his skulking brother. “Come on, man. Jobs don't get much sweeter than this, you know? Dead vic with a gnawed-on neck, body drained of blood, and a witness who swears up and down that it was a vampire.” He was making it clear he was going the route of ignoring you and only addressing you with a sharp comment when absolutely necessary.

“No, I- I agree,” Sam said half-heartedly. “It’s a hell of a case.” “A little more gusto, please.”

“It's just... the world is coming to an end. Things are a little complicated, you know?”

“C’mon, man, it's like the good old days, an honest-to-goodness monster hunt. It's about time we got back to tackling a straightforward, black and white case.”

****

“Oktoberfest 2008” was painted on a sign Dean drove past, and you watched people celebrating in tacky Lederhosen and barmaid costumes. 

“You stay,” Dean told you gruffly when he parked the car. 

You crossed your arms and stared out the window. 

“We still got to see the new Raiders movie,” Dean pointed at his brother as he got out of the car. 

“Saw it,” Sam replied monotonously. 

“Without me?” 

Their voices became distant as they shut the doors and walked away. 

You felt sick to your stomach. Everything you wanted to say to Dean— the things that had happened since he went to Hell, Uriel, Castiel, the things you’d done— they were all on the tip of your tongue. But then, he’d glare at you. Your heart would sink, and you’d retreat right back into yourself.

Marissa Wright was a young girl who’d been visiting the town for Oktoberfest. Strangely, she had two dark marks on her neck like a cartoonish vampire bite. At least, that was what you gathered from the pictures you’d snagged a peek at over Sam’s shoulder on the ride from the morgue to the bar Dean and Sam had left you outside of.

Frankly, Marissa Wright wasn’t interesting to you. At the moment, you were too concerned with your angel business. Uriel’s words about killing Sam loomed over you, and you felt like you couldn’t leave the Winchesters even once you were healed because of what Uriel was making you do.

Somehow, you needed to regain Dean’s trust. The idea of trying to manipulate him made you sick, but maybe it was what you needed to do to protect him. Even if he never understood why you did the things you did, at least he’d still be alive to wonder.

****

That night, you were unable to sleep. That, unfortunately, was not unusual. Yet again, you were alone in a motel room wishing to be next to Dean. 

The mirror had become your worst enemy. Shirts you’d stolen from Steven when he was a teenager hung even more loosely off you than they did before Dean died. Your arms lacked the muscle tone they once had, and you felt weaker and sicker with each passing day.

An anxiety was beginning to form within you that you’d become unhealthily dependent on Dean. You never wanted that for yourself; men had always been an accessory to you before Dean. You were complete on your own. Now, you weren’t sure what was wrong with you.

Was it that you missed Dean that much? Was it the angels? Was it the things you’d done? You supposed it was a combination of all of the above. 

****

The next morning, you opened the door to your room to see Sam. Your heart sank a bit that it wasn’t Dean, and it seemed like that much was evident based on your facial expression.

“Good to see you, too,” Sam chuckled.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Good morning, by the way.”

The brunet nodded, still seeming not to feel sure where he stood between you and his brother at the moment. “We’re leaving in five. Headed to the morgue, I think.”

“Another attack?” you asked.

Sam nodded. “Doesn’t sound anything like the last one, though.”

“Fun stuff,” you replied, pulling your boots on. “You think he’s gonna put me in the timeout chair again?”

The younger brother looked at the ground bashfully, and you sighed. “Yeah, I thought so, too.” 

****

Sure enough, Dean made you stay in the car again. It seemed he was deriving some strange satisfaction from keeping you separated from the case. Or maybe his joy came from the fact that it very visibly pissed you off.

When the boys returned to the car, you didn’t ask any questions about the case. Frankly, you weren’t interested. However, Sam was adamant about getting your input. 

“Wolf Man?” you scoffed. “Are you sure?”

“What, do you think we’re idiots?” Dean snapped.

You took a deep breath and nearly bit your tongue to keep yourself quiet. “It’s not that, Dean,” you said lowly. “It’s that it’s just sort of implausible to have found a wolf hair next to a body with its heart still intact and Dracula-accurate fang marks in that girl’s neck.”

“Thank you, Sherlock,” Dean snapped.

“Dean! Cut it out, man,” Sam warned. 

Dean seemed taken aback by Sam, but he didn’t press the issue. 

The ride remained silent until the three of you arrived at the bar Dean had left you outside the day before. 

Sam opened the door for you, encouraging you to get out despite the very obvious glares from his brother. 

Once inside the bar, you sat on the same side of the booth as Sam. Dean grumpily chomped on his burger, and Sam ate his meal silently. You didn’t even order anything; your stomach was too upset and tied in knots to properly digest anything. As soon as you tried, you knew you’d be in the bathroom puking your guts up. 

“Aren’t you gonna eat something?” Sam asked you.

You shook your head. 

“C’mon, not even a bite of mine?” he tried again.

You shook your head once more, feeling too shaky to say anything.

Dean looked up from his burger momentarily to address you. “C’mon, (Y/N), you gotta eat something.” His tone was still guarded, but it was nowhere near as harsh as it had been in the car.

“I’m fine,” you mustered out. 

You could feel Dean’s eyes on you, but you just stared down at the table in front of you and took a sip of your water.

The pretty blonde waitress, Jamie, bounded up to the table with two more beers for Sam and Dean. 

“Looks like you guys are staying a while. I heard about Rick Deacon,” she said, referencing the most recent victim. 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, this case just got weird enough for our department.”

“Well, beers are on me,” she replied with a smile. Then, she turned to Dean confidently. “And, just so you know, I get off at midnight tonight.”

“Oh, it's not another, uh, girls' night out?” Dean smirked up at her.

Your stomach fell to your shoes, and rage bubbled in your chest. However, you knew your anger was misplaced. He wasn’t yours anymore, and you needed to accept that.

Jamie returned his playful smile. “Doesn't have to be.”

“Okay, then. I'll see you tonight.”

“Okay, then.” And, with that, she left.

Sam noticed your discomfort, but he couldn’t offer you anything more than an empathetic look.

Without even noticing you, Dean said, “Hey, you think this Dracula could turn into a bat? That would be cool.”

**** Another murder, except this time, committed by a mummy. However, you and the brothers determined the “mummy” was using special effects from a prop house in Philadelphia to enhance his monstrous performance. You were either dealing with a Silence-of-the-Lamb-level psychopath, or… you weren’t really sure. Truth be told, you weren’t devoting even a half of your attention to this case. That seemed to put Dean off, slightly, and it made him even more sure you should be kept in the car. Secretly, you thought it was because he was worried about your wounds, but you also knew there was a really strong chance he just did not want to see you.

When Dean realized he’d be late for his date with Jamie, your heart sank. Still, Dean ran off and left you and Sam behind to investigate.

“(Y/N),” Sam said, turning to you. “You have got to eat something. You look like hell.”

“Don’t worry about me, Sam,” you responded absently. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Talk to me.”

You continued to poke around the sarcophagus. “No,” you snapped. You realized how harsh you sounded. “I’m sorry, that was mean. I just— I can’t. I’m sorry.”

You could feel Sam scanning your face, but he just nodded slowly.

“I really am sorry, Sam,” you said sincerely.

His tone was soft and understanding. “I know you are.” 

As much as you didn’t really trust him as a result of the whole “Ruby” ordeal, Sam had a way of making you feel seen. He really was an incredible friend to you, and you hated what you felt your relationship was turning into. 

Not even ten minutes later, Sam got a call from Dean. With a panicked expression on his face, Sam gave you a look that meant the two of you needed to leave at that moment. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. “Is Dean okay?” Your heart pounded in your throat.

“Dracula attacked,” Sam replied as he tried to hail a cab. 

“What?!” 

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s all I know right now.”

As soon as you made it to the bar, you burst through the doors. When you saw Dean sitting at a table with Jamie, your heart sank in the midst of your relief.

“Hey,” Sam called out, trailing behind you. “You guys all right?” Dean sighed. “Yeah, I think so. And I think I know what's going on.” He put a folded towel down on the table.

“Yeah?” his brother replied.

“Part of it, at least.”

You hesitantly reached out to the towel, trying to keep your distance from Jamie and Dean. He eyed you curiously while you opened the towel. An ear was inside. You lightly touched it; immediately recoiling as you realized what it was. 

“Shifter,” you stated, keeping your eyes anywhere but on Dean’s.

“Oh, man,” Sam huffed.

Dean nodded. “Just like St. Louis and just like Milwaukee. Of course this one's all holding buckets of crazy. Oh, and, uh—” he took a medallion out of his pocket and tossed it to Sam. “This, I uh, pulled it off during the fight. Look at the label on the ribbon.”

Sam scoffed when he read it. “It's a costume rental.”

“All three monsters— the Dracula, Wolf Man, and the mummy— all the same critter; which means we need to catch this freak before he Creature From the Black Lagoons somebody.”

Jamie’s voice broke in. “So, you guys are like Mulder and Scully or something, and The X-Files are real?”

You didn’t miss how Jamie failed to include you in the analogy.

“No, The X-Files is a TV show. This is real,” Dean replied.

“Oh.” The blonde looked down at the table in front of her.

“Okay, so, the stagecraft, the costuming—” Sam pointed out, “it's like he's trying to re-enact his favorite monster movie moments, right down to the bloody murders.”

Jamie furrowed her eyebrows. “Wait a second. Who the hell is Mina?”

“Mina?” Sam questioned. 

“Yeah. That's what he called Jamie,” Dean nodded. “And he called me Mr. Harker.”

You bit the inside of your lip. “Characters from the original Drac movies and novels. Harker’s Mina’s fiancé. Dracula’s obsessed with Mina. Seems he fixated on you, darlin’,” you nodded at Jamie, pushing down your jealousy.

You knew it was twisted to be jealous of a girl getting stalked, but it was just solidifying in your mind that Dean wasn’t yours anymore. And it was all your fault.

“Wow. Lucky me,” Jamie groaned.

“But to fixate on you, my guess is that the shifter has to have seen you before or been around you,” Sam added.

Dean turned to the blonde. “Jamie, has anybody strange come to town, somebody that has taken a specific notice of you?”

“I don't know, Dean. It's Oktoberfest. I'm a bartender. There's lots of people. I... wait a second. There is Ed.”

“ ‘Ed Brewer’ Ed?” Sam asked. You assumed it was someone they’d met earlier on the hunt; possibly while you were confined to the car.

“Yeah. He moved here about a month ago. Lucy swears he has a crush on me. He comes in almost every night. But, you know, I don't think he's the type of guy—”

“Where does Ed live?” Dean asked, cutting her off.

“I don't know. But he works at the old movie theater. I think he's the projectionist there.”

Sam looked to you and jerked his head toward the door. You turned on your heel, hearing Sam ask Dean to take care of “Mina” before he followed behind you. Anger bubbled in your chest, but you were trying to keep your feelings from seeping out.

****

You cocked your gun against the back of the head of Mr. Ed Brewer. 

“Whoa!” Brewer asked, holding his hands up in surrender. “W-Wait just one second, okay?” He tried to turn around to face you.

“Don’t move,” you commanded, voice eerily cold.

“W-What do you want?”

“You know what you did, Ed,” you replied.

“What?”

“I know what you are.”

“I'm not anything. I just like to play the Casio,” the man pleaded.

Sam nodded at Ed’s skull. “Had time to grow the ear back, huh?”

“What?!” He tried to turn around again.

“I said don’t fucking move,” you sneered.

Brewer froze again.

Sam tugged on Ed’s ear, but it wouldn’t budge. “It's supposed to come off.”

“No, it’s not!” he replied.

“You’re right,” you stated evenly. “I’m gonna walk away now. You don’t move until exactly two minutes after you hear the last of my footsteps, okay?”

“Okay, okay—”

You cut Ed off by pistol whipping him on the back of the head. He slumped to the floor, and you quickly rushed out of the room.

You caught Sam giving you strange looks, but you completely ignored them. “What did we miss, Sam?”

“Uh—”

“Sam! What did we miss?”

“Give me a second, (Y/N)!”

"We may not have ‘a second’!”

“The fuck are you in such a rush for?” he asked. 

“We don’t have time to talk about this, Sam,” you replied, voice becoming even again. “We gotta find this fucker, so I can—” you cut yourself off, nearly biting your tongue to avoid bringing up the angels and your “mission.” First and foremost, you were supposed to be keeping them safe. If you weren’t with Dean, you had no assurance that you were doing your job. 

“So you can what, (Y/N)?” Sam asked.

“I can’t tell you,” you answered sharply.

Thankfully, Sam just huffed and shook his head. 

****

When you got back to the bar, you strutted through the front doors that were surprisingly unlocked. As soon as you entered the bar, you felt uneasy. 

“Dean?” you called hesitantly. 

Sam just chuckled and took out his phone. “Dean, hey listen. Uh, Ed is not our guy. Um, I'm guessing you're at home with Jamie, so just give me a call, okay?”

While he left his voicemail, you walked over to the table Dean and Jamie had been sitting at. You stopped short at a broken bottle on the floor, and a napkin had a lipstick color on it you hadn’t seen Jamie wearing.

“Sam,” you said, feeling slightly choked.

He walked over to you and looked down at the napkin. “Lucy,” he murmured.

“Wait, Jamie’s friend?” you asked.

Sam nodded. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” you sighed heavily. 

****

Sam tracked Dean’s cell phone as you sped to the house the signal pinged at. As soon as the car was parked, you were sprinting up the stairs to the door of the house. Sam picked the lock, and you burst in, sneaking around with your gun drawn. 

You nodded for Sam to check upstairs while you went to check downstairs. Quietly, you slinked down the stairs with cat-like grace. Silently, you were hoping you’d be finding Jamie instead of Dean to avoid the awkward rescue scenario. 

Alas, your prayers were not answered. You entered the dark basement and saw a large, medieval looking torture device in the center of the room. Dean grunted while he tried to make it out of his chains, muttering the odd, “Dammit!” 

You lowered your gun as you rounded the device. “Dean?” You came to a stop in front of him, feeling everything in you wanting to run right out of the room.

“Get me outta here, would ya?” His tone was harsh.

You nodded obediently, wanting to avoid fighting with him as much as possible. It upset you that Dean could make the Lederhosen Dracula had dressed him in work. 

“Where’s Sam?” he asked.

You nodded at the stairs. 

“Silent treatment?” Dean scoffed. “Mature.”

“Stop, Dean, please,” you begged quietly. You hated that your voice came out as more of a whine than anything. Then, you rushed out of the room in an attempt to avoid any further conflict. 

When you heard a loud crash upstairs, you ran up the steps to the second floor. Dean followed close behind and burst into the room the scuffling sounds seemed to be coming from. 

Immediately, Dracula tackled Dean. “And you, Harker, now you die.” Dean choked out, “How 'bout now you shut the fuck up?”

With Dean trying to shield himself on the floor, you waited for Dracula to raise his sternum up enough for you to fire. Just as the monster was about to finish Dean off, you shot him once in the chest.

“Silver?” the monster said, seeming mystified. He looked up at you menacingly holding your gun. “It was beauty that killed the beast. No, Mina, do not weep.” He dramatically collapsed into a chair. “Perhaps this is how the movie should end.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, immediately turning on your heels to walk out of the room.

****

The next day, you slumped down in the back seat of the Impala while Dean and Jamie made out just outside the passenger’s side window. 

Faintly, you heard Jamie say, “Well, thank you, G-Man. You have been a great service to your country.” “Oh, yes, I'm very, very patriotic,” he responded flirtatiously.

You scoffed, pulling your gun out of the bag on the seat next to you to clean it. 

When the two brothers finally bid Jamie goodbye and got down into the car, Dean turned his eyes to you in the rearview mirror. “Jamie said to thank you.” He stared at you in the rearview mirror waiting for you to respond.

You never answered, and Dean just shook his head and started driving.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

The Miraculous fandom has some of the most creative people I know in it. I mean this, positive sense.

However that same talent becomes a problem when people cannot distinguish between a narrative beat and their own post-hoc justification.

The second is useful now and again when any sort of media misses a beat or takes a leap. ML fans carry the narrative on their backs.

It's telling that you have so many fanworks out there that are equally or more valid readings of the canon when they were published that have been completely obliterated by future development.

I'm not talking the wild takes. I'm not talking ML suddenly turning shonen, or coffee shop AU. I'm not even talking 'Adrien gets equal screen time.' Just 'with what we know, what comes next?' type fanfiction.

It's like canon is deliberately trying to dodge anything remotely predictable... but narrative beats are predictable for a reason. They work. They're good storytelling. A twist can be good storytelling, but only if it is better in every way then the not-twist.

You combine the shock-at-all-costs mentality with ML fandoms devotion and creativity and you get leaps of logic that would make a crypto seller blush. It ends up going downright unhealthy places at times.

I know their hearts are in the right place. I know they just care about the show they've sunk time and self into, but there are times you have to step back.

It doesn't mean you have to give up or turn away from the media. You just need to be willing to admit 'This episode/throughline/season/beat sucked'.

Then you hope it gets better.

Not doing this now and then is engaging in cult behavior.

(Post that spawned this ask)

I fully agree. People liking "bad" media doesn't bother me. What gets under my skin is people defending bad media. I'm in a book club and we all own that we like books that are objectively bad. We don't defend them as good, we just like the good parts enough to drown out the bad stuff. That's normal and fine. You don't have to limit yourself to perfect and pure art if such a thing even exists. I can name flaws in most of the things I like, I just think the good far outweighs the bad.

Miraculous is not some deep and complicated show that requires you to watch every episode. The writers have flat out said it is supposed to make sense even if you miss seemingly vital episodes. This means that trying to go the deep and nuanced route to explain the flaws doesn't work. This is a show for young children. It is supposed to be easy to follow. If it's not, then it has failed at its job! Little kids have no expectations to subvert. Shows like Miraculous are supposed to teach them how stories work so they can go on and watch more complex stuff when they're older. (For us adults, shows like Miraculous are supposed to be cute escapism that lets us feel like kids again.) If no one can possibly predict where a story is going next at a high level, then it's probably a bad story.

To be clear, I don't mean that every plot beat should be obvious. It's just that the longer a story goes, the more obvious things should feel as all the little elements of the story build and come together. This allows the audience to get excited about what's going to happen next and keeps them engaged. Stories where literally anything can happen no matter how little sense it makes aren't fun because you can't get invested in anything. I'll take a predictable ending over an impossible one any day.

A perfect example is the season three final. That final was all about Gabriel winning because he knew Chloe's identity. This is spelled out in the episode and the episode setup.

Miraculer set up:

Gabriel: Chloé Bourgeois must become Queen Bee again! Nathalie: Are you still considering making her an ally? I'm afraid Ladybug has grown reluctant to giving Chloé the Bee Miraculous. She's being very careful. Gabriel: Then I will get Chloé to force Ladybug to give it to her. All I need is for her to lose all hope in Ladybug. To become angry enough so I can akumatize her. (smirks evilly)

Ladybug: I'm sorry, Chloé. I should've told you this a long time ago. I might never be able to let you be Queen Bee again. Queen Bee: What? But I did everything you asked me to. Ladybug: I know. But this is for your own safety. It's too dangerous for you and your loved ones because Hawk Moth knows that you're Queen Bee.

Final pay off:

Hawk Moth: Try it and see for yourself. You're Ladybug's greatest fan. You've helped her, you've trusted her. And what has she done for you in return? Chloé: (gets angry) Nothing! She couldn't care less about me! I'm done with her. She's irrelevant, utterly irrelevant! (reaches out to grap the Miraculous, stops) I want you to de-akumatize has my parents first! Hawk Moth: Whatever you say, my queen. (Chloé takes the comb and puts it in her hair, releasing Pollen)

Since the final also includes every other temp hero being outed this should mean that season four will go on to have Ladybug and Chat Noir starting from scratch, but is that what happens?

Nope! The mass identity reveal means nothing and everything is fine to keep going as is. Chloé's identity reveal being a problem was a one-off fluke we don't need to think about.

There is no justification for that. You can decide that you're willing to let the flaw slide and keep watching, but there is no way to make this a good choice for the story. It was the start of the secret identities holding less and less weight to the point where a lot of people no longer care about the love square reveal because it's been so incredibly cheapened. Marinette keeping her identity from Chat Noir no longer makes sense when it was once pretty reasonable.

[asaka-lucy-hl]

Report on the 3rd Online Meeting of the Last Defense Academy School Council (Held on February 28)

The archived video is now available for the School Council members, so I’ve listed the key points and comments from Kodaka and Inou (THL’s producer) that I found particularly important or amusing. Part of the report is written in the form of a conversation, and the person named Miyokawa who appears in it is the editor-in-chief of a Japanese gaming media outlet called Famitsu.

Q: There are now 55 days until release. How are things going? Kodaka: We’re working on some patches, but development itself is basically finished. Until recently, I was making final adjustments to the parts I was responsible for, as well as checking the balance of the SRPG sections. But now that’s all settled, so I’ve been playing through the parts written by other writers—the ones I wasn’t involved in during development—as a player.

Q: So you're playing THL from a player’s perspective? Kodaka: Yes, exactly. There are parts I didn’t oversee at all, so I’m experiencing them for the first time myself.

Q: The demo’s reviews have the status of “Overwhelmingly Positive”… Kodaka: They’re all fake reviews. (Everyone laughs) Kodaka: We paid people 100 yen each to write them. Miyokawa: That’s cheap. (laughs) Inou: I personally wrote about 30 of them. (Everyone laughs) Miyokawa: Let’s not make jokes like that—it could spread in a weird way. It’s not true! (laughs) Right now, there are around 806 reviews. Kodaka: It’s really nice to see so many reviews for just the demo.

Q: Do you feel the impact of the feedback? Kodaka: Yes, I do. With Rain Code, we didn’t release a demo, and while DRV3 had a demo, there wasn’t really a place for people to leave reviews like this. So being able to see this kind of reaction is really valuable. We’ve even used some of the feedback to make adjustments in patches, so in that sense, I’m glad we released a demo. Also, as I mentioned in my Famitsu interview today, seeing the reactions to the demo has been a relief. My worries have eased a bit. Before the demo was released, I was thinking, “What if we only sell 600 copies...?” But now I know we’ll at least sell 800, so I feel a little better. (Everyone laughs) Miyokawa: I don’t think 800 copies is a number you should feel reassured about. (laughs)

Q: The SRPG sections were more challenging than I expected. Kodaka: That’s true. I think that’s one of the aspects that received particularly good feedback. When it comes to the story, a lot of people commented that it felt “Danganronpa-like” and nostalgic, but for the SRPG sections, it seemed like many players only truly understood what they were like after playing them.

The SRPG has a system where, if you get a game over, various relief measures kick in, making it progressively easier. Personally, when I play action games and keep getting game overs, I always think, “Why doesn’t this game have some kind of relief system?!” Since I’m more of a casual gamer, after dying three times, I just want the game to let me clear it already.

Miyokawa: So THL has that kind of relief system? Kodaka: Yes. Since I’m the type of person who wants that kind of feature, I made sure to include it.

Q: Since we have Kodaka here, I’d love for the School Council members to share their thoughts directly with you. But at the same time, many fans are hesitant to say too much because they’re worried about spoilers.

Kodaka: Yeah, but honestly, what’s playable in the demo is really just the tip of the iceberg—actually, more like the tip of the tip of the iceberg. I’ve seen a lot of reviews commenting on how surprisingly large the demo is, saying things like, “I can’t believe they released this much content.” But in reality, it’s just a small fraction of the full game. So many more things are going to happen from here on.

On the other hand, since the development team talks openly about all this stuff among ourselves, I sometimes worry that I might accidentally slip up and drop a keyword or something.

Most SRPGs tend to have a fantasy feel, but I think this demo really conveys just how much of a 'chuunibyou' (edgy, over-the-top) vibe the game has.

(Everyone laughs)

One thing that’s always bothered me about SRPGs is how, toward the end, the gameplay often turns into just surrounding the last enemies and bullying them. At a certain point, you realize, “Oh, I can’t lose anymore,” and the tension disappears. I wanted to reduce that as much as possible.

So, I designed the game around "comeback victories." The more allies you lose, the stronger you become.

I set it up so that, near the end, you might think, “Only two of us are left... but if we risk everything, we might just pull this off... We did it!!!” That kind of dramatic, high-stakes moment. I feel like that also adds to the game’s chuunibyou spirit.

---

<Kodaka's Comments During the Fan Q&A Session>

Darumi is the kind of character that seems like they could fit into Danganronpa but actually can't. If you have a character like that, they’d basically have to be killed off early on. So, while they might seem like a Danganronpa character, they actually wouldn’t work.

Maruko wouldn’t fit either. Someone that much of a coward would be hard to use in the story. Ginzaki as well—if he keeps sinking into self-loathing every time he speaks, the Class Trial wouldn’t progress at all. Surprisingly, there are a lot of characters that seem like they could appear in Danganronpa but actually wouldn’t.

For the first nine characters (except for Takumi), I wanted them to feel a little more relatable, a bit more grounded compared to the ones in Danganronpa or Rain Code. Maruko, Kawana, Shizuhara—they don’t have over-the-top appearances. Since this game has war as a theme, I wanted to include somewhat realistic reactions to that. So, at first, I aimed to depict real high school students with these nine characters. ...But I couldn't really do it. laughs In the end, I just kept adding more and more, and it turned out the same as always—intense characters all over again.

(Everyone laughs)

Kodaka: Still, I think the designs are slightly more relatable than those in Danganronpa, don’t you? Miyokawa: Darumi might be a bit extreme, though. Kodaka: Yeah, that’s true. But then all the characters that got added later ended up being way too intense, which made for a really unbalanced mix. laughs

Q: Are you participating in the 100-day login campaign? Kodaka: I haven’t logged in once. (Everyone laughs)

Q. The controls with the keyboard are difficult. Can they be improved before release? Kodaka: To be honest, I strongly recommend using a gamepad. Well... making adjustments for keyboard controls costs money, you know. Inou: Yeah, it’s not like we didn’t consider it, but given the budget, we decided it was better to just ask players to use a gamepad.

Q: Will there be any shocking announcements before the release? Kodaka: Honestly, we’re still debating how much to reveal. From a marketing perspective, it would be better to make an honest announcement that "This and that happen," people would go, "Whoa, this game is insane!" But at the same time, I want players to experience those surprises firsthand. So I’m thinking maybe it’s best to hold back and rely on post-release word-of-mouth instead. I don’t want to ruin those moments of shock for the players.

That said, I was looking at the demo reviews, and it seems like a lot of people were really reacting to Aotsuki’s event CG from Tokyo Game Show. Maybe that’s because, after playing the demo, they understood the characters better?

Inou: Yeah, that one definitely got people buzzing and stirred up a lot of "What!?!" reactions. Kodaka: At TGS, we had a bunch of event CGs on display at the booth. And we figured, "Hey, let’s throw in something fun at the edge of the lineup!" So we deliberately included one of the more intense event CGs. But I think it’s still hard to understand why things turned out that way.

There are over 600 event CGs in the game, so I doubt many people will see all of this.

---

On the development process

Kodaka: Today, various sections of the team were interviewed, and while reminiscing about the road to release, our staff kept saying things like: "I never thought we’d finish this game." "There’s no way this is possible."

Honestly, for the past two years, I’ve been hearing nothing but people saying, “It’s impossible! We can’t finish it!”

Miyokawa: Sounds like the whole Tookyo Games team was in despair. Kodaka: Yeah, Tookyo Games was in despair. Even Media.Vision (the company handling the SRPG sections) was in despair. Inou: Right. And since I was managing the project, I was in despair too. (Everyone laughs) Inou: So, at some point, I thought we had to force ourselves to finish it. Speaking of which, someone started saying scary things like, "If we had another year, we could have done even better..." Kodaka: It would never be finished at that rate. laughs Miyokawa: That just shows how ambitious the game was. Kodaka: Yeah, and I think the quality turned out really high. The character sprites and music are really abundant, too.

Plus, in the ADV sections, the scripting was all handled by the actual scenario writers. For the sections I wrote, I also did all the scripting myself. In fact, the entire ADV section of the demo—I handled all the scripting for it.

That’s probably why people kept saying in reviews that it feels like Danganronpa—because everything, from the way sound effects are used to the way music changes, was all done in my style.

While working on this, I realized that I’m actually really good at scripting. Maybe even better than writing scenarios. I genuinely feel like my directing makes things more engaging.

Miyokawa: Do different writers have their own distinct styles? Kodaka: Yeah, you can really tell, especially with Uchikoshi—his writing stands out a lot. There are some sections where you just know it’s him. But I think that’s part of the game’s charm—there are so many different routes, and multiple writers contributed to them.

---

[Closing Segment]

Miyokawa: Now then, does anyone know what day it is today, February 28th? Kodaka: Monster Hunter release day! Miyokawa: (laughs) Oh, the team members know what I mean. That’s right—it’s Ginzaki’s birthday! So, we have prepared a cake for him!

What do you think? Kodaka: That’s impressive. It does look a bit like his ears are melting though. Miyokawa: Well, is he really that beloved? Inou: I believe a lot of people will end up loving him. He’s already popular at ANIPLEX, and he’s one of my favorites too. Kodaka: He does have a great range of expressions. A lot of them are annoying, though. (Everyone laughs) Miyokawa: Even the expression on the cake is a little irritating, right? He doesn't seem to be aware that he is being celebrated. ---

Miyokawa: Lastly, do you have any message for the School Council members? Kodaka: Well, after the release, I’d love to have a meeting where we can share our thoughts without worrying about spoilers. I think a lot of different impressions will come up. Probably, about a month after the release, people who have played it will have completely different opinions, so I’d like to hear everyone’s thoughts at a good time. I think this is a work where sharing impressions will be a lot of fun, so please look forward to it and wait until the release.

---

That’s all for now. Please note that this post only highlights the parts of their statements that I found interesting, and some sections have been edited for flow, as they were not originally consecutive.

I hope you find some parts of it enjoyable to read. Thanks for reading! 🌟

[ilikekidsshows]

"Even good person make bad decision sometimes."

True.

"Therefore Marinette is not a bad character."

That, is arguable.

Because I'm at this point where I would questioned where's the line that make a character "bad" and where's the line that make a character "just misunderstood/misguided"

Because if Chloé is bad character because she bullied Marinette and Lila is bad because she's a liar who manipulate others... then where's Marinette stand when she has done both?

Her bullying and humiliating Kagami (in extend Lila and Sublime) isn't even stemmed from misunderstanding, it's her own jealousy that told her "everyone who get close to 'her Adrien' is her enemy."

Her choosing to manipulate Cat Noir to reveal his identify isn't stemmed from misguided attempt, she get sick of Suhan keep nagging her about Cat's identity!

And I'm not even talking about the "Gabriel is hero who died sacrificing his life to saved her's." BS.

So yeah, where does she stand then? Because it's hard for me to see her as someone who "misguided" when everything she do is stemmed from her own jealousy and insecurity. She knows it's bad, she just choose to say "Who cares? I don't. 🤷"

---

Yeah, for all Miraculous brands itself a romantic comedy series, the protagonist isn’t motivated by love, not really. Because the thing Marinette wants even more than love is control. She wants to control how people see her, think of her and feel about her. I’ve been calling her a control freak even before she started manipulating and gaslighting her most beloved people, because the need for control is that integral to who Marinette is as a character, a fictional person.

Almost anything Marinette does that isn’t motivated by her Love Quest, and even many parts of her Love Quest, is motivated by the need to gain control of a situation and nothing makes her freak out more than a lack of control. “Marinette has good intentions”, isn’t a defense to begin with, but, in addition, Marinette’s “good intentions”, when they are even present, are just a mask for her true motivation, to control something.

Because, like, even if we apply the most good faith interpretation to Marinette's behavior, that she has an uncontrollable, untreated anxiety disorder stopping her from learning how to handle social situations with any amount of reasonability, that still doesn't make her look flawless. I know the writers and the passionate stans think Marinette having trauma absolves her of all guilt, but she is responsible for how her coping mechanisms hurt other people, it's her responsibility to get help when she has repeatedly seen herself hurt others.

But, like, when we look at how Marinette's interactions are written, it's clear the intended reading is that Marinette feeling bad about doing bad is all that's needed for her to be absolved. In-universe, the characters around Marinette tell her everything she does is instantly forgiven because she feels so bad about it, that she's a good person because she feels so bad. It's hard to blame Marinette for not seeing there's a problem with the way she behaves when people are literally telling her that, as long as she's the one feeling the worst, she's a moral paragon even when she hurts others.

As much as that kind of thinking would make sense, I still wouldn't see Marinette as a good person if that was the canon. On my pettier days I see Marinette as a bad person, but, that's not accurate either. She is toxic and exhausting, though. Still, if I saw someone in real life be as manipulative as consistently, regardless of their motives, I would not want anything to do with them. That's the problem with watching a show and seeing a character act the same way year after year. It doesn't matter if the TV show wants you to think her "mistakes" aren't in continuity, that you're meant to see them as episodic, disconnected, separate stories, all the while muddying the waters with a serialized continuity that increases as the story goes on. I'm still seeing her constantly do the same things but worse.

I also can’t see Marinette as a good character, because her writers are telling me she is a good person despite them writing her as a self-centered and petty person out to manipulate everyone around her, especially the ones she cares the most about. A character has to be truly badly written to have one of her defining traits contradict what the storytellers are trying to say about her this completely. Some of it is the awful mishandling of the show's episodic versus serialized nature, but some of it is just the writers not thinking about their show as a cohesive whole. It's also why their attempts at "refreshing the formula" don't actually change anything about the formula.

[magiclwritings]

There had always been an unspoken notion between all of them. Oliver and Isaac didn't ask, Apollo and Cassio never made them privy to the darker side of their friendship. For the time being, it had been working flawlessly. Well, if you counted that both partners were completely in the dark to either Cass or Apollo's safety at any point during the day. That had always been the unspoken part that lay between them all. Whether or not they all knowingly signed up for it was another matter all together. So as Isaac stood there, hating that there was no other alternative than what he'd been given before him, he sighed and gave in.

"Please be ca'eful." He spoke softly, moving his hands up Apollo's back and he pulled him in close. There was no sense in even trying to talk him out of it when he had that look in his eye. Isaac was a lot of things but stupid was not one of them. And at the risk of those marks on their friend becoming a reality on that little boy safely tucked into their bed, he couldn't stomach that more than what Apollo had been proposing. What did that say about him? Of course, any rational person would think the same. But perhaps not nearly as dire as this. But that was Apollo. All brute force and brains that were so brilliant it sometimes scared Isaac but ultimately brought out love all the more.

Isaac gave a gentle nod to Oliver, his hand lowering for him to lay back down. There was so much bruising still but he'd been fairly confident that now all he needed was to administer some sort of pain killer for Oliver and they all could take a deep breath. Well ... for the time being anyway. He brought his hand up to Apollo's cheek and turned him to look at him again. "Ya ha'e ta come back 'n one piece too." He chided as playfully as he could muster under the circumstances. "We ha'e a kid now an I won' be one o' them da's tha' tal' abou' how we los' ya in the wa'." He teased, leaning in to kiss those lips oh so softly. "Jus' co'e back ta me." He whispered, hugging onto that solid frame he'd loved for so many years.

At least we're all on the same page. He thought, hearing Oliver from the other room. He wondered briefly why he never wore all black more often. It was amazing how well it complimented him. Cass looked over his arms in the snuggly fitting clothing as he made his way to join the others. Seeing Oliver again was going to be jarring but he'd be alright. Those bruises and marks would fade and Oliver would be as he always was. The person that made them however? It'd been a while since he'd had to consider making this sort of choice concerning someone's life but the look on Apollo's face made it clear that there was no room for anything but that.

Cass saw Isaac first and shimmied by both him and Apollo to see Oliver. It made his stomach flop the moment he saw the marks again but he pushed a smile to his face and moved in closer to him. "Hey." Cass breathed, setting himself down gently on the bed next to him. He sucked in a deep breath seeing the movement caused Oliver some discomfort. "It never ceases to amaze me how fierce you are." Because he was. Oliver always made it a point to say how great his siblings were and what they were great in but what he didn't know was that he was the glue for them and even their little rag tag family under this roof.

"Think I can leave you in charge of that one?" He nodded towards Isaac and smiled. Honestly, at this point, whatever had happened before had to be left for the time being. It just had to be. His eyes moved from one mark to the next and then the next. He had never questioned when Apollo and he went on missions like this before but now, this was personal. And he'd make sure that man knew the hell he put that little boy through. "Honestly, I think you've been the bravest tonight." He told him in earnest, moving his hand gently to lay over Oliver's. "You always are. I don't .." He sighed, smiling warmly at him. "I just want you to worry about getting better." Cass glanced to Oliver and nodded, ready when he was.

The underlying fear was that Apollo would eventually push Cassio past his breaking point. The two had been through so much, and Apollo knew it was because of him. He had developed the habit of dragging Cassio into his bullshit, leaning on him to help fix every shitty thing in his life. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t fair. He knew Cassio deserved better, but Apollo was selfish, and Cassio was his crutch. 

But standing in front of him now, Apollo wasn’t sure if Cassio would come with him. He would be going, with or without Cassio, but their security in backing each other up made the difference. It made Apollo feel like he could overcome anything that came his way. It wasn’t until Cassio said, “I’m with you always.” Apollo’s lips twisted into a smile, and he felt a wave of reassurance wash over him. He pulled Cassio into a hug, squeezing his body against Apollo’s chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his person. They could do this. They would do this. Together. As it should be. 

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” he said, pulling away. I promise.” Apollo turned towards the bed, taking in the sight of Theo sleeping peacefully. He was curious if his biological dad looked like Apollo, which was why the boy resembled him, or if Alexandra had used magic, knowing that could happen in the future. The boy looked too much like Apollo had at that age for it to be purely a coincidence. It didn’t matter much to Apollo if she had or hadn't. She trusted him with his son’s life, and he would do everything he could to treat him like his son as if he had always been meant to be Apollo’s son. In another life, he would have been. 

“If you want to change clothes, do it now. There’s extra clothes that’ll fit you in the closet.” The chest would open for Cassio as anything revolved around their work. “I’m going to go tell the others we’re going out.” Apollo walked past Cassio, stopping for a moment to squeeze his shoulder. Then, he continued through the room and went to the guest bedroom. 

Isaac was hovering over Oliver, tending to his wounds. “Isaac,” Apollo called out, getting his boyfriend’s attention and beckoning him over. With Isaac standing before him, Apollo’s arms immediately circled the man’s waist. “I’m taking Cassio, and I’m going to Alexandria’s house,” He explained, looking up at Isaac. There was no beating around the bush with this. He knew there was tension between his boyfriend and best friend, but Apollo didn’t have the luxury of time to soothe those insecurities. “I have to go tonight. I can’t give him more time to hide evidence or plan his next move. He must be taken care of before anything else happens to Theo.” Maybe it would count for something that he was being truthful with Isaac, or perhaps it would make things worse. After Theo was safe, Apollo would worry about the forgiveness part of it later. 

“Apollo.” Oliver’s voice was weak and fractured, and he rolled over onto his side, the pain cutting across his face. Apollo flickered his gaze from Isaac over to Oliver. The man’s eyes welled up with tears, and his chin quivered. It was hard for Apollo to imagine exactly how much pain Oliver was in, but he knew it was a great deal. He was a lot stronger than Apollo had ever realized. “I want you and Cassio to make him pay.”

[themoonlitquill]

Whispers Woven in Shadow. (6/?)

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚? 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝖠𝗓𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝗑 𝖥𝖾𝗆!𝖮𝖢 (𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; HI. I meant to post this yesterday (like I did last week don’t hate me pls) but I didn’t like where I originally ended it so I revised and ta-daaa! 🪄 This one was a very fun one to write! It was going one direction and then ended up somewhere else, which I LOVED. And I hope you do too! 🩵 Alsooooo, the next chapter is already in the works and let’s just say I am STOKED for it. 🤩 Hehe. ENJOY!!

𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ; 𝗡𝗼𝗻𝗲??? 𝗢𝗺𝗴 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗮 𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲???

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 ; 3553.

“The key to being a Daemati is discretion,” Rhysand stood in front of Ariadne, only a few feet away, with a rather serious expression in place. It was clear that what he was about to teach was important, no nonsense to be found, and she found herself thoroughly engaged. “Once you find your in, the last thing you want is to be discovered. It could be catastrophic otherwise, especially since you’re new at it.”

Her hands were clasped together behind her back, lips pursed. “That makes sense, but wouldn’t they be able to feel me enter somehow?”

“Not necessarily,” he picks a piece of lint off his sleeve. “When you’re in complete control and know what you’re doing, there’s nothing to be felt. Although,” the violet of his eyes were gleaming. “It also depends on if they’ve been trained against Daemati powers and if they have… it can be more complicated.”

“So there is a chance that I could be found out?” Ariadne frowns. “What do I have to do to prevent that?”

The High Lord smirks. “I’m so glad that you asked, littlest Archeron. That’s exactly what we’re going to work on today.”

“I have a name, you know,” her eyes were now narrowed into slits, annoyance set into the hard line of her mouth. “Use it.”

“You’re a sassy one, aren’t you?” Rhys chuckles under his breath. “Reminds me of Feyre.”

She swallows dryly, a pang hitting her chest. “I don’t want to talk about my sister with you.”

His shoulders lifted slightly and she had a feeling he had sighed, more than likely frustrated by the way she had shot him down. Not my problem. I don’t trust him. I don’t know if I trust any of them.

Ariadne takes a breath, the pain receding to a dull ache, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, the pointed tip more prominent now. She didn’t know if she would ever get used to them. “Where do we start?”

The smirk diminishes as he straightens and it amazed her at how quickly he was able to switch from one emotion to another. It was almost too easy for him, which was a conundrum in itself. “Close your eyes.”

She hesitates for a moment, unsure, but obeys nonetheless.

“Now,” his tone is softer, more coaxing, like cool water flowing down a stream. “Picture a door. It can be any color, any shape, any size. Just be sure to put all of your focus on it.”

Slowly, Ariadne begins to conjure up what he had asked, allowing her subconscious to make the decisions for her; polished wood - ebony? - that was slightly worn with age, large enough for a grown person to fit through, and its handle curved into the shape of a crescent moon. She doesn’t know why, only that it felt right.

“Good,” Rhys hums approvingly. Could he see it too? It wouldn’t surprise her if he did. “The door isn’t yours, remember that, it belongs to someone else. Think of the mind as a house, full of locked rooms that hold a plethora of secrets.”

She gives a subtle nod, finding herself grateful for the way he was explaining things. Magic was a completely foreign concept to her and having powers, even more so. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t be able to figure it out if he approached it differently, but she’d rather it be done this way. Much easier.

A strange sensation brushed against the door then. It reminded her of nails scratching, not entirely unpleasant, though not comfortable either. There was an awareness that came with it, some sort of pressure, and she couldn’t help wondering exactly what it was.

“Do you feel that?” She nods again. “That’s me. I’m allowing you to sense that I’m trying to get in,” there’s a shift in the air and all of a sudden it disappears. “And now you can’t feel me anymore, correct?”

“Yes.”

“The goal isn’t to use brute strength, even though there will come a time when that’s necessary,” he pauses. “But for now, it’s about slipping through the cracks. There’s always a way in, Ariadne. Even if you don’t see it at first. Some houses leave windows left open, while others have weak locks. Sometimes there’s too many doors, which leads to things left unnoticed. Don’t force it. Follow your instincts and feel for the gaps.”

Ariadne exhales, finding her center where she stood and reaching out tentatively; it felt like her own opalescent barriers, though this time, it was extending towards the door she had created, moving along the outer edges in search of a way in.

Her brow draws together, coming up empty handed and leading to her releasing a frustrated huff. “I don’t- Wait!”

The shimmery mist gathers along the bottom left corner, probing at the wood and that’s when she feels it. A small hairline fracture, barely there, but it was possible, and that was all she needed. “I found it,” her tone was hushed, full of awe. Truthfully, she hadn’t put much stock into this and now she was a believer.

Rhys smiles. “Try to get through without me feeling you. I’ll wait.”

She takes a breath and holds it before pushing forward, allowing herself to slip into the crack, trying to be mindful of how much pressure she was putting behind it and there’s a whisper in the back of her thoughts, reminding her to be stealthy, as fleeting as a shadow. Her nails dig into the skin of her palms, teeth clenched, and she focuses on thinning out, bleeding through to the other side inch by inch.

“There you go. That’s it,” he encourages, watching her with a keen gaze that holds something akin to amazement, and he couldn’t help but marvel at her tenacity. “I can feel you, but just barely. If you keep practicing, I won’t be able to at all, which is saying something.”

Ariadne finally opens her eyes and she feels… accomplished. It wasn’t anything major - yet - and she still had work to do - a lot - and despite that, she had done it. There was progress made and she couldn’t help in feeling more determined than ever. This bit of success had served to further prove that she could do this, that she wasn’t going to be stuck, and she relished in it.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

As it turned out, Rhysand was a pretty good teacher. He was patient and explained things well, gave her praise when she earned it and corrected her when she made a mistake, though it wasn’t harsh, more on the constructive side than belittling her like she had expected. It was… nice, and she had learned enough to begin practicing on her own before they would eventually move to the next lesson.

There was no way she was ready for the whole ‘shattering minds’ aspect of it, but maybe Azriel had been right. It would be smart for her to at least know how to do it. Just in case.

And speaking of the elusive Shadowsinger��

Ariadne tilts her head, honey brown eyes roaming over bronze skin and swirls of black ink that adorned his upper arms, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirt. How many does he have? She wanted to ask and managed not to, especially after how he had reacted yesterday. Why did he leave like that? He owes an explanation. It was rude. If he doesn’t want to be around me, he should be an adult and say that. Are all Illyrians complete dicks?

She huffs and strides into the kitchen with purpose, dead set on confronting him and giving him a piece of her mind when he looks up, gold seeming to brighten, and causes her to falter, suddenly feeling warm all over.

“Hi.”

Azriel raises a single brow and she notes that he had stiffened, shoulders tense and shadows flitting about almost anxiously. “Hi.”

“How was your day?”

He balks. “My day?”

An uncharacteristic snort emits from her. “Yes, your day. It’s called having a conversation. You should try it. Unless you plan on leaving again without a reason why?”

Guilt flashes across his face and she places her hands on her hips expectantly. “I’m sorry.”

She softens. A little. “You shouldn’t have done it. If I do something to offend you, I’d much rather you tell me than running off and making me wonder what the hell it was I did. I’m a big girl, Azriel. I can handle the truth.”

He observes her silently for a moment. “I know you can.”

“Don’t do it again. Please,” she adds. “I want to be your friend and you’re making it harder than it needs to be.”

“Friends,” his jaw clenches and her head tilts curiously. Did he not want that? “Okay then. My day was… alright.”

Maybe he did. “Just alright? What did you do?”

“Trained with Cass.”

“What kind of training?”

“Hand to hand mostly,” he relaxes, slightly, some of the tension lifting. “Some flight maneuvers here and there.”

Ariadne perks up at that and leans against the counter, glancing at his wings briefly. “Did you ask him to race?”

“It may have come up.”

“And?”

“He agreed.”

“Oh, how exciting! When can we do it?”

“Whenever you want,” Azriel’s gaze intensifies and she feels heat creep up her neck. Why was he looking at her like that? “As the unbiased judge, we thought it only fair for you to be the one to choose.”

She hums. “Well, in that case, how about the end of the week? It’s only a few days away and it’ll give me time to write out a scorecard.”

“A scorecard?”

“Yes. It can’t just be based on how fast you are. That wouldn’t be as fun.”

He seems to think it over, lips twitching. “What are the other categories other than speed?”

“I can’t tell you that. Cassian isn’t going to get an advantage, why should you?” Ariadne raises an inquisitive brow, engaging in a silent challenge. “What’s fair is fair.”

“I don’t even get a hint?”

“No,” she releases an exaggerated sigh. “I’m afraid your skill will have to speak for itself.”

Azriel’s shoulders shake as his mouth curves up into a smile, the smallest hint of a dimple appearing and she finds herself fascinated by it, gaze zeroing in as her body leans over the counter. She wanted to see if he had another on the other side, but it was gone before she could ask.

She chews on the inside of her lower lip, suddenly finding herself at a loss for words; it seemed that happened a lot when she was around the Shadowsinger and she didn’t know why. It was like she had a million different things to say and couldn’t figure out how to string them in the right order to keep the conversation going.

It also didn’t help that she held a fear of him leaving again because she did something wrong that she was unaware of.

How was she supposed to navigate this?

Her mouth opens and then closes, brow furrowing, and she could see the shadows swirling about languidly, some slithering towards her and she wanted to touch them, wanted to touch him.

Wait, what? Ariadne shakes her head and resumes her incessant biting. Don’t do that. If you’ve learned anything, it’s that he’s an obvious flight risk.

Azriel watches silently and she had this weird feeling that he knew what she was thinking somehow. “They like you.”

She blinks. “Who?”

The shadows move closer and his head inclines slightly. “Them.”

Where had that come from? Their conversation in the library replays in her mind. He had pulled them away from her like it - she - was some sort of issue and now he was finally acknowledging it? It made no sense. Like everything else around here, she sighs.

“Maybe I’m better company than you are.”

His eyes widen a fraction and a low rumble reverberates in the back of her skull, warm and all-consuming. It sent tingles down the length of her spine and there was no doubt that it was a laugh. She was certain. Azriel was laughing. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

Cassian was massive.

She had met him before and yet, she didn’t remember him being this big. It was sort of… intimidating. He looked like he could throw her through a wall and not even break a sweat. Her lips curve slightly at that. It was certainly entertaining to think about.

He stood next to Azriel and there was a shit-eating grin on his face, which only seemed to annoy the Shadowsinger and it was obvious that she was missing something.

But what?

Ariadne observes Cassian with interest, wondering how different he was from the others. He had to be a force or else he wouldn’t be the… What was his title? Lord of… Something, she tilts her head with a curious expression. Lord of Illyrians? What in the name of the stupid Cauldron was it?

She flicks her gaze to Azriel, silent questions in honey brown, and he elbows Cassian, chin dipping towards her and she wished more than anything that she knew them well enough to know exactly what they were saying without saying it.

“So, you can’t hear at all?”

A dark shadow passes over Azriel’s face that she chooses to ignore, mostly, and she shakes her head. “Not in the traditional sense. I mostly go by touch and sight.”

“That’s gotta be a pain in the ass.”

Ariadne fights a smile. Oh, I like him, she steps forward, eyes roaming leisurely. “Believe it or not, you get used to it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Cassian looks down at her with amusement. “You’re really tiny.”

She scoffs, hands moving to rest on her hips. “You don’t miss much,” her neck tilts back in time with her perusal. “Which is surprising considering I didn’t think you’d be able to see from all the way up there.”

He barks out a laugh. “You’ve got my vote.”

What was that supposed to mean?

Azriel rolls his eyes, arms moving to cross over his chest. “Ignore him. I do.”

“It’s impossible to ignore me,” Cassian interjects. “Don’t listen to him. He’s cranky and needs a nap.”

Ariadne nearly laughed at that and it was a bit of a surprise at how comfortable she was with him already. Rhysand, she was still wary of, and Azriel… well, she wasn’t quite sure what she felt where he was concerned, but Cassian? He was a breath of fresh air and she liked that he didn’t seem to take himself too seriously. She thought they might end up being fast friends, which she was in no position to say no to.

“Or maybe you just get on his nerves.”

His grin widens - if that was even possible - and catches the small chuckle from Azriel, the rare sound a surprise and he found himself stunned for a moment; his brother could deny it as much as he wanted, but it was evident that there was something there and it pained him that he couldn’t speak on it, not unless he wished to come to blows and the last time that happened, it hadn’t ended well.

“She has a point,” the Shadowsinger gives Cassian a knowing look, who huffs in return. “I’ve never heard any complaints,” he focuses back on the youngest Archeron. “I could never. He loves me too much.”

Her eyes rolled, though there was no malice, only a subtle fondness that softened her features. “I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you,” a small hum emits from her throat. “Have either of you decided what you want the prize to be if you win the race?”

“I’ve been waiting for this!” Cassian claps his hands together, a mischievous glint in his gaze. “Oh, right,” he smiles sheepishly at Ariadne. “Sorry, this’ll take some getting used to. Anyway,” he perks back up. “I’ve been thinking that since you’ve shown so much interest in flying… That the winner gets to take you for the first time.”

Azriel tenses and so do his shadows. “Absolutely not.”

He ignores him, practically giddy, and continues on without missing a beat. “Az told me about this scorecard you’re making and since you’re the one judging, it makes sense for the winner to be the one to do it. You know,” Cassian’s grin returns. “Safety and all.”

“I said no,” Azriel bites out, jaw hard. Was he out of his mind?

“I like that idea,” Ariadne had noted the Spymaster’s reaction and it was the ten-thousandth thing that she added to the ‘makes no sense’ pile. “But instead of just going for a flight, why not make it more interesting?” There’s a brief silence and she took that as her sign that they were agreeing with her. “I want to go down to the city and explore. I’m sick of being in this house, no offense,” she glances up at the ceiling before returning to the two Illyrians. “I need to get out and the winner gets to be my escort slash tour guide.”

“Excellent!” Cassian pats Azriel on the shoulder. “I bet you’ll make sure you win now,” he winks playfully at the little Fae. “You’ve got yourself a deal!”

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

You are excited.

Ariadne looks down at the shadow encircled around her wrist, eyes brightening. Hi! Long time, no see! Wait, how can you tell I’m excited?

You wear your emotions plainly, it tightens its grip in a quick squeeze. It is easy to tell.

I never really noticed, she gives a half-shrug. But you’re right, I have something to look forward to at the end of the week. I get to fly to the city!

Velaris.

Yes, Velaris, her eyes move to the open archway across the room. I’ll be out of this house for the first time since that damn Cauldron and be around other people and check the shops and see that pretty river and be normal.

It was all she wanted; to have the opportunity to venture out and be a part of something instead of locked away in a hypothetical tower - that was actually a magic house - away from curious glances and speculation. Though, she found she didn’t care what the reaction would be to her, only that she was finally going to be free, even if it was just for a little while.

Who are you going with?

She blinked down at the shadow, watching it shimmer as it flowed around her wrist. They really were beautiful. Oh, I don’t know yet. I’ll find out at the end of the race in a couple days.

It is your decision who wins, is it not?

Yeah, it is, Ariadne hums and ghosts her fingertips over the sleek obsidian. Why was it so important? Why had Azriel said no? She had caught that - despite her lack of skill in that department - and hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. I want it to be fair, though. That’s why I made the scorecards. I split it into different categories.

You made a scorecard?

She huffs, not liking the fact that it felt like it was laughing at her. What was the big damn deal? It was the perfect way to judge!

Yes, that way I can take into account a few other things needed to win a race other than speed.

Such as?

Agility, form, and endurance, she raises a single brow, daring the shadow to tease her again. It doesn’t just take being the fastest. What about the air currents? The way they extend their wings and how far? What if something gets in their way and they have to go around it?

Like what?

What kind of a question was that? Ariadne throws her hand up, a second huff emitting from her lips, though more exasperated this time. I don’t know! A tree?

A tree in the middle of the sky?

Are you serious right now? I don’t know how high they’ll be flying!

It would have to be a very tall tree, the breathy whisper was lighter and she realized then that it was laughing at her. What a beastly little thing! She wanted to flick it.

I’m not talking to you anymore if you’re going to keep making fun of my scorecard!

Me? Making fun? Never.

She releases a frustrated sound and flicks it, eyes narrowed. Be nice!

Says the one who just wounded me.

Oh, don’t be dramatic. You’re fine, she rolls her eyes, but carefully rubs a small circle with her thumb, slow and soothing. I thought it was a good idea. There isn’t much to do around here, so I figured I’d go all in.

The shadow wraps around her forearm and squeezes, the temperature cool against her skin. It is. Your mind is fascinating and I enjoy seeing how you respond to things.

So that’s what that was? Ariadne purses her lips, watching as it moves further up until it’s on her shoulder and twirling through her hair. It seemed to like it there the best. What a weird way to go about it.

Not weird at all, little moon. You will soon see.

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