#you are welcome to write your own version of this

[chiqelatasblog]

In the Middle Of the Night🌙

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Part Three is here.

Pairings : Bi-Han/ Sub-Zero x Reader, Kuai Liang/ Scorpion x Reader, Tomas Vrbada/ Smoke x Reader

Author’s Note : Welcome to another long chapter, everyone! 🙌🏻 (It’s about 11k words) Writing from Bi-Han’s perspective was a bit of a challenge, as he wasn’t always cooperative, but I’m proud of how it turned out. As I did with Kuai Liang, I put my own twist on his powers. (He is touch sensitive) Also in this version, I’ve adjusted it so that despite the portrayal in MK1 where Bi-Han doesn’t really see Tomas as part of the Lin Kuei, I’ve changed that here. Sharing the same trauma bonds people more closely, as my therapist once said, so I’m using that here to bond them as brothers!

Hope you enjoy diving into it as much as I did writing it! Happy reading!❤️

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In the middle of the night,

Just call my name, I’m yours to tame.

In the middle of the night,

In the middle of the night,

I’m wide awake, I crave your taste.

CHAPTER FOUR : BI-HAN

Bi-Han had never liked to be touched or to touch others.

As a cryomancer, Bi-Han was unaffected by the cold itself. Yet, any touch, no matter how gentle, caused him intense discomfort, akin to frostbite searing through his skin. This peculiar sensitivity, despite his otherwise stoic demeanor, left him feeling isolated and disconnected from those around him. The only exceptions to this rule were Kuai Liang and Tomas, whose persistent presence he gradually grew accustomed to over time.

As the future grandmaster of the clan, Bi-Han knew he had to cope with this discomfort and eliminate any weaknesses that his enemies could exploit, just the thought was enough to make his nerves tense. In order for him to protect and maintain the future of his clan, he had to be perfect; he could not have a weakness. It was impossible for him to make mistakes like others because, at the end of the day, he would be solely responsible for the cost.

The temple of his clan, where he had spent every day since he first opened his eyes, was nestled among the mountains, at the edge of the forest, surrounded by towering rocks and fortified walls. Despite the bitter chill of the morning frost, Bi-Han emerged from his room before the sun had even begun its ascent, his cryomancer abilities shielding him from the biting cold that would incapacitate others. Today, the weather was particularly tumultuous, with fierce winds howling through the mountain passes, a harbinger of the impending snowstorm. Despite the harsh conditions, Bi-Han sought comfort in the discipline of his training, finding strength in the knowledge that one day he would inherit his father’s legacy and rule the clan with honor and power.

His hands sometimes fell apart because he worked long hours, his wounds bled nonstop for several days, his legs sometimes trembled, contracted, and ached from fatigue, but Bi-Han turned a blind eye to all of them. Although it is a fact that he was cruel to everyone, he was even more cruel to himself. The relentless pursuit of flawlessness drove him to push his body beyond its limits, disregarding the signs of strain and injury. It was as if his own well-being mattered little in comparison to the unyielding demands of his ambition.

More machine than man, Bi-Han’s focus was solely on the future of his clan and the welfare of his brothers. As an assassin, emotional bonds were his greatest vulnerability and also a liability; enemies could use them as weapons against him. Despite this, Bi-Han made exceptions for Kuai Liang and Tomas. In the earlier days, he was wary of Tomas, seeing him as an outsider not yet fully integrated into the clan. However, Tomas’s unexpected achievements and unwavering loyalty gradually took him by surprise, earning his trust. However, Bi-Han never openly expressed his true feelings to either of his brothers. Emotions were shackles to him, vulnerabilities to use against him. He became adept at burying his emotions, concealing them beneath a facade of stoicism. Instead, he pushed their limits and often subjected them to his sharp tongue, all in the name of unlocking their full potential. Though he understood the underlying rationale for his strictness, Bi-Han avoided dwelling on it, choosing instead to bury those feelings deep within.

This transformation permeated his entire being over time. People shied away from confronting him, even avoiding making eye contact. Like his powers, his demeanor grew as frigid and merciless as ice itself. He concealed all traces of fear, weakness, and humanity behind the impenetrable walls he erected, never once allowing himself to glance back in their direction. The weight of leadership, burdened with its responsibilities and grim tasks, further solidified his detachment.

The day Bi-Han was appointed as the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei was etched in his memory like a knife drawn on ice. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the courtyard, the wind howling through the mountains, and everything cloaked in an icy chill. With the loss of his father’s life, his heart beat strongly in his chest as he officially took on his responsibility in a simple ceremony before the clan elders. He had worked for this moment for years, and now as he stood amidst the frozen landscape the satisfaction he felt was unlike anything he had ever experienced. As he accepted the leadership mantle, Bi-Han vowed to preserve the clan’s traditions, to lead with wisdom and strength, and to protect its heritage against all odds.

But everything changed during their ill-fated mission to retrieve Quan Chi’s amulet. Bi-Han had always believed the trials he faced were diffucult, the stress thickening the walls he had constructed while honing his coping mechanisms. He often forgot he possessed feelings at all. Yet being ensnared as a love slave within the pages of a book presented a trial unlike any other he had encountered before.

Bi-Han contorted in agony as searing pain enveloped his body, his heart and mind consumed by swirling darkness. Despite his fierce resistance, the curse proved relentless, its cruel grasp tightening with each passing moment. Every fiber of his being screamed in protest as he fought against the overwhelming force, but it was as if he battled against an invisible, unyielding foe. As he writhed in torment, Bi-Han felt the tendrils of his sanity slipping away, replaced by an insatiable hunger beyond his control. In that moment, he knew he was no longer the master of his own fate, but ensnared by the caprices of lust—a fate more tormenting than death for a man who had spent his life mastering the art of control.

Bi-Han initially fought with every fiber of his being, honed as he was in the ways of an assassin since childhood. Taking a life had become as natural as breathing for him; he executed his duties without hesitation, always looking forward without a flicker of remorse. But this situation was unlike any other. Despite his desire to confront and overcome this weakness, physical contact had always unsettled him. The myriad sensations overwhelmed him, hindering his ability to focus and defend himself.

The relentless persistence of the curse, turning this discomfort into a constant torment, pushed Bi-Han to his limits as never before. Like he always did, he also concealed this vulnerability, never allowing it to surface and be used against him. Yet now, this situation had brought about an unforeseen consequence; nearly every master of the book who came and went sought to “tame” him.

Bi-Han was well aware of his challenging temperament, he bared his teeth, lashed out with insults, refusing to allow anyone to assert control over him. He was not a possession to be claimed; he was an assassin and the grandmaster of an esteemed clan, determined to safeguard his reputation and honor at all costs. However, the curse spared no effort in testing him, as it did in all things.

Given his heightened sensitivity to touch, fulfilling their desires proved more difficult for Bi-Han compared to his brothers. Coupled with his abrasive personality, he inevitably stood out as the outlier among them. Most of the masters relished the challenge of attempting to tame him. Despite his burning desire to unleash his fury upon them and spill their blood, the protective barrier surrounding them thwarted his efforts each time, leaving him writhing in agony.

He refused to be controlled like a mindless animal, he would sooner take his own life than submit. It was not in his nature to surrender without a fight, to yield until his last breath. This defiance was quickly understood, but when the punishments were directed at his brothers instead of himself, Bi-Han found himself compelled to submit, despite the vehement protests of his soul.

The methods used to tame him differed from those employed with Tomas and Kuai Liang. Bi-Han lacked the knowledge of how to navigate intimate interactions, particularly with the opposite sex. His life had been consumed by rigorous training and duties, leaving no room or desire for physical contact. After all he had always recoiled from touch, never seeking it or showing any curiosity about it. Focusing proved exceedingly difficult for Bi-Han, especially initially, as he struggled to regulate his body temperature. Prolonged contact resulted in searing pain and burns on his skin.

In the room, two women surrounded him, one beneath him as he drove into her with hard, fast thrusts, eager to end the encounter as soon as possible. The other, his current master, positioned herself behind him, her arms coiling around his body like a serpent, her hands grasping his pecs and trailing down to his abdomen and upper legs, where his muscles painfully contracted under her touch. She watched him intently, issuing commands to satisfy their pleasure, her tongue tracing along his jawline with small, biting movements. The air was heavy with their mingled scent, their moans grating on his nerves. Sex and sweat permeated the room, each touch searing pain into his skin, overwhelming him and making it difficult to focus. His muscles tensed, veins bulging visibly beneath his skin, and he felt trapped in this hellish place with no means of escape.

Over time, he had learned to grit his teeth, ignore the pain, and maintain control over his body. The burns on his skin had decreased and eventually vanished altogether, yet Bi-Han derived no pleasure from it. The constant tingling sensation, like millions of tiny needles dancing across his skin, persisted, causing him to clench his jaw in frustration. His demeanor grew even more obstinate, his anger simmering beneath the surface. He harbored a particular resentment towards himself for his inability to put an end to the situation. How much longer could he allow his honor to be trampled underfoot? Time continued to pass, yet he remained entrenched in the same place, consumed by turmoil.

His fists clenched tightly at his sides as he surveyed the vast landscape before him. Departing the cramped apartment before sunrise had become routine; he detested confined spaces, and the apartment felt as suffocating as a doghouse. With a determined effort, he forced his nerves to remain steady, inhaling deeply the crisp, cool morning air.

A month had elapsed since their emergence from the book, yet nothing transpired as he had anticipated. He had expected his brothers to exhibit a sense of sensibility, maintaining their customary distance and aloofness, as they did with all other masters of the book, except Leilani. Tomas, the most naive among them, was quick to extend trust and belief, a habit Bi-Han begrudgingly tolerated, especially after the events with Leilani. Yet, Tomas seemed to revert to his trusting nature in your presence, sporting a foolish grin and soft, welcoming gaze. While Bi-Han could comprehend Tomas’s susceptibility due to his youth, he struggled to fathom why the hell Kuai Liang chose to share the same fate. He was logical, cautious, and maintained a calculated distance from others, knowing the dangers his powers could inflict. Although he had mastered control over his abilities, ingrained habits die hard, and Kuai Liang remained vigilant against causing intentional harm beneath his stern demeanor.

The fact that both of them succumbed to your influence, and so swiftly, perplexed Bi-Han. From his observations, your approach mirrored Leilani’s initial demeanor—calm, gentle, and devoid of authoritative commands. Yet, Bi-Han remained convinced it was all a facade, awaiting the moment when you would reveal your true intentions. Patience was not his forte, but once he set his sights on his prey, he would not relent, biding his time for a misstep to expose your true nature. Despite his brothers’ failures, he remained resolute in his distance from you, determined not to fall to the same mistake. He had sworn an oath to end this and had no intention of breaking it. When two months pass, he’ll remain as the sole fortress in this situation, committed to restoring his brothers to their former selves. Whatever game you were playing, Bi-Han was resolved not to allow you to reduce them to rubble. It had happened once before, and he would not permit history to repeat itself.

A few days prior, he had successfully contacted Sektor via your mobile phone. Sektor, one of the clan’s foremost assassins, possessed unparalleled expertise in electronic devices, often partnering with Cyrax on missions. In the ten years since their entrapment within the book, this was the first time Bi-Han had managed to establish contact with them. Contacting his clan had been a daunting task, as previous masters had imposed stringent bans, subjecting them to severe punishment if disobeyed. Enduring the pain himself was one thing, but risking the safety of Kuai Liang and Tomas was another. They had always supported each other, relying solely on their own trust and dependence.

Sektor mentioned that he would come once the connection was established. He wanted to verify for himself if the person who contacted him was truly the grandmaster of their clan, with his brothers, also second-in-commands, accompanying him. Bi-Han couldn’t blame Sektor for his caution; he would have taken the same approach if he were in Sektor’s position.

As the sun slowly cast its warm glow upon the awakening city, Bi-Han rose to his feet. A few blocks away, he silently descended from the rooftop, using the fire escape to make his descent. Despite the passing years, his body still tensed with apprehension at the thought of returning. He refused to acknowledge the draining effects of the curse upon him, despising every aspect of it—his weakness, his submission to its power, his dependency. These traits clashed with the values he had imposed upon himself, and he loathed them to his core.

Upon returning to the apartment, he sought to enter without a sound, wary of your keen senses that could detect even the slightest noise. Your ears were too sharp for a human; you could easily hear him coming and turn your attention to him. Despite his attempts to push you away with his brusque demeanor, you never wavered in your kindness. A plate of food always awaited him, set aside with care, and despite his biting words, you never cast him out or administered punishment. Bi-Han couldn’t comprehend your motives—why weren’t you angered by his actions?

In the days following their emergence from the book, it became apparent that you harbored fear towards him and his brothers. Your movements and speech were cautious, tinged with timidity. However, as time passed, this fear seemed to dissipate, particularly in your interactions with Tomas and Kuai Liang. Though you maintained a distance from him, your influence over him was profound. A single word from your lips could bring him to his knees. Yet, even though you refrained from wielding that power, Bi-Han saw no reason to hold back from testing your boundaries. He yearned for you to reveal your true self, to discard the mask you wore. With each passing day, his nerves stretched taut like an arrow, poised for release.

A deep conversation flowed between the three of you, so engrossed that neither you nor his brothers heard his silent entrance. Bi-Han observed quietly from his position, unmoving. In the kitchen, Kuai Liang and you were preparing breakfast. It was no surprise to see his brother immersed in the task, given his secret interest in food, but witnessing him so relaxed and at peace beside you was an image Bi-Han hadn’t seen in a long time. Meanwhile, Tomas lounged in one of the chairs at the kitchen island, engaged in animated chatter about movies while absently stroking the kitten perched on his lap. The faint strains of music from your phone wafted through the apartment, adding a tranquil ambiance to the scene.

Struggling to contain his anger, Bi-Han gritted his teeth at the sight of his brothers’ expressions. After all they had endured, how could they choose to trust again? Had none of them learned their damn lesson? When they faced the harsh realities of the real world once more, it would be too late. The book had stripped them of their identities as assassins, reducing them to mere instruments for the satisfaction of its owner. This was the bitter truth even if the owner had no desire for them; such was the insidious nature of the book, compelling its wielder to use them.

Despite the cramped confines of the apartment and the thin walls that allowed certain sounds to permeate, Bi-Han detected no indication of intimacy between you and his brothers. Your interactions typically consisted of innocent touches and kisses; he saw no demand for more. However, he knew it was only a matter of time before this changed, as he had witnessed such scenarios before.

Your body would ignite with primal urges, gradually clouding your mind until all you could think of was desire. As you resisted, the need would intensify, evolving from a flicker into an inferno, causing you agony, prompting you to seek relief using his and his brothers’ bodies. Once this barrier was breached, the rest would follow more easily. A few of the past masters, aware of their capabilities, hesitated to utilize them even under the book’s protection. However, when consumed by desire to the point of losing their sanity, they would resort to using their bodies for release, realizing that they wielded true power in such moments. They were no longer individuals with thoughts, wishes, or desires; they were merely slaves to be used at the whim of another. Bi-Han felt dehumanized, reduced to a mere object, easily discarded once his purpose was served.

The first to sense his presence was the pesky cat, leaping from Tomas’s lap in a frantic dash, its tiny legs propelling it as fast as they could go. Bi-Han restrained himself, resisting the urge to freeze the creature in its tracks. For some inexplicable reason, the cat seemed fixated on him, adding to the already cramped quarters of the apartment as he struggled to fend off its insistent attempts to climb onto his lap.

“Bi-Han, when did you get here? Hey, Ninja, wrong way, girl. Come here.”

As Tomas rose to retrieve the cat, both Kuai Liang and you turned, your gazes meeting his. Bi-Han observed the fleeting spark in your eyes, your lips parting as if to speak, only to halt at the last moment, offering instead a timid smile before refocusing on your task. Neither he nor his brothers missed this subtle exchange. While Kuai Liang observed you silently, brows furrowed in contemplation, Tomas’s initial concern flickered briefly in his gray eyes before morphing into indifference tinged with a hint of resentment upon meeting Bi-Han’s gaze.

Cradling the persistent kitten attempting to climb his legs, Tomas muttered softly under his breath, audible only to him.

“This is your doing. Are you satisfied now?”

Bi-Han’s brow furrowed deeply as he absorbed Tomas’s response, a pointed glance conveying his dissatisfaction as a muscle twitched in his jaw. It seemed absurd to feel unsettled now that you were finally grasping his cues. He had grown weary of your saccharine words, always probing if he was alright or offering assistance that he did not seek. Your sincerity failed to sway him; instead, your persistent interference felt like an unwelcome intrusion. So while he should have been content with your quiet acknowledgment, Bi-Han found himself strangely different. It was as if he hadn’t anticipated you relenting and giving him what he desired; instead, he was met with a hollow emptiness.

Instead of responding to Tomas, Bi-Han shoved him with his shoulder and strode past, trying not to indulge in the tantalizing aroma wafting from the kitchen. Judging by what you and Kuai Liang were preparing, it seemed to be an Asian breakfast, the nostalgic scent evoking memories.

“Are you hungry?” Kuai Liang asked, casting a sidelong glance at him. Bi-Han made a small affirmative sound. Among them, he could endure hunger the longest; his metabolism was slower than his brothers’, allowing him to subsist on just water for weeks without issue. Especially after the curse, he often forfeited his meals to Kuai Liang, who needed sustenance more urgently. The strong survived, after all.

However, Bi-Han noticed that his meals were often laced with aphrodisiac-style drugs, subtly altering his senses and clouding his mind. At those moments, it was as if his body was enveloped in a thick fog; his hands and feet became unnaturally heavy, as if weighed down by lead. His senses dulled, his vision blurring at the edges, and his thoughts slowed to a crawl, as if his brain was wrapped in layers of cotton wool.

He resisted eating to avoid vulnerability, refusing to succumb to such manipulation again. Yet, you always reserved a plate for him, untouched by others, even when he abstained for days. It was as if you understood his reluctance and respected his choice.

Almost as though you had read his thoughts, when you put the plate you had prepared in front of him, Bi-Han lifted his head and looked at you again, meeting your gaze. You weren’t looking at him the way you looked at his brothers; it couldn’t be said that you were afraid, but there was a bit of underlying timidity in your gaze and a sadness that he couldn’t understand. In earlier days, Bi-Han was filled with terrible rage because he thought you were pitying him. However, with time and observation, he realized that he was mistaken in this belief.

“Do you want some green tea?” you asked, and Bi-Han silently confirmed. As you turned to prepare it, he felt a slight weight on his leg. Without needing to glance down, he sighed inwardly, ignoring the cat’s plaintive mewls.

“Ninja! Are you gambling with life? Come here.”

“How difficult can it be to control this pest?” Bi-Han remarked, breaking his silence and turning to Tomas, who had been holding the cat.

“Would you believe it’s harder than some of the missions I’ve been on? It’s so tiny, I feel like I’ll crush it if I hold it too tightly,” Tomas replied, eliciting a chuckle from you. Setting down the cup, you moved to pick up the cat, cradling it gently in your arms as it wriggled in protest.

‘’Come here sweetie, your breakfast is here.’’

Bi-Han kept his gaze fixed on you as he took a sip of his tea. Watching you care for the little cat in your arms, he couldn’t deny the sense of peace that settled over the room, despite his reluctance to admit it. The subtle smile on your face, the tender look in your eyes as you cradled the kitten with such delicacy, as if afraid of causing it harm… These details felt genuine and convincing, casting doubt on his previous perceptions of you. Despite the lingering uncertainties swirling in his mind, for a brief moment, Bi-Han entertained the idea of reconsidering them, but quickly dismissed the thought to a remote corner of his mind. With a hardened gaze, he reminded himself that pondering such matters was futile; their time here was limited, and he had more pressing issues to attend to—such as finding a way to put an end to this curse.

‘’Oh, somebody’s pretty hungry,’’ you said with a chuckle, watching the kitten eat with gusto.

‘’When is she ever full?’’ Kuai Liang hugged you from behind, planting a small kiss on your cheek as he observed the cat over your shoulder. Bi-Han struggled to contain his disdain, unable to stomach his brothers’ easy affection for you. Seeing them so tender was unfamiliar; he hadn’t known they harbored such warmth. Tomas was mild-mannered, Kuai Liang a mediator—they both possessed kindness, but this was different. It felt as if he were witnessing something sacred, untainted, and pure.

He also didn’t want to admit it, but looking at both of you, you looked good. Covered by his brother’s arms, you seemed soft and vulnerable, but also well-protected by the muscular arms, shielding you from any harm. You were almost radiating with a gentle warmth, soaking Kuai Liang with the same energy, making him more relaxed than ever.

‘’You’re right, she has an appetite that defies her small body. I’ve started to worry that I won’t be able to keep up.’’ you said with another chuckle, affectionately nuzzling Kuai Liang and placing a loving kiss on his cheek in return.

‘’Can you blame her after what she’s been through on the street?’’ Tomas interjected, popping a slice of peach into his mouth from where he sat.

‘’True, she’s been through a lot,’’ you acknowledged, turning to Tomas with a look that was a blend of sadness and warmth. ‘’But she’s in good hands now.’’

‘’We won’t let her go hungry again, we’ll make sure of that.’’ Kuai Liang affirmed, a gentle smile lighting up his face. The spark in his eyes, so reminiscent of yours, exuded hope and vitality, as if each glance at you reignited his spirit.

Bi-Han listened in silence, his facial expression betraying his inner turmoil. This situation diverged from anything that had defined their lives for years. He could already see his brothers becoming attached to your presence. Your natural demeanor, particularly your smile, never failed to catch Bi-Han’s attention, offering a glimmer of hope he couldn’t dare to believe. He wished he could feel the same; waking up without the curse looming overhead, knowing he could return to his clan, should have been a comforting notion.

‘’You talk as if you’re going to keep this cat here,’’ Bi-Han remarked after a while. There was a brief silence as you wriggled out of Kuai Liang’s arms and reached for your own cup, giving the kitten a final stroke on the head.

‘’She’ll stay here until I find her a good home, but my priority is to help her regain her strength and socialize,’’ you explained gently. ‘‘My budget is barely enough for myself, and I don’t know what will happen if I can’t find a job soon. Unfortunately, I can’t meet the needs of a cat under these circumstances.” There was a hint of sadness in your voice, as if you had already grown attached to the little creature and were reluctant to let go. Bi-Han’s gaze shifted to the kitten, standing a little apart from you.

The kitten was indeed tiny, easily overlooked if one wasn’t careful where they stepped. Yet, it possessed a courage that belied its size. Despite Bi-Han’s imposing stature and deep voice, the kitten persistently sought his attention, jumping at his ankles, meowing, doing everything to engage him. Its bravery reminded Bi-Han of you, actually— despite the biting words he hurled at you, you still sought help, a notion he struggled to comprehend. After all, they were total strangers to you, and there seemed to be nothing to gain in return. On the contrary, you stood to lose the power and control you had over them, something coveted by many but attainable only by you.

It seemed unbelievable that you would willingly abandon this control.

***

You left the house a short time ago for another job interview that you found couple days ago. They were all aware of your situation before you mentioned that the budget was tight. Even though there was a brave smile on your face, trying not to show your distress, Bi-Han could see all too well the underlying worries, as could his brothers. You weren’t as adept at hiding it as you thought you were.

That’s why Tomas and Kuai Liang decided to take advantage of your absence and left the house right after you did. Since you gave them unlimited space to act as they wished, without giving them orders or prohibitions, his brothers decided to ‘shop’ at the grocery store to support you—though their true intention was to steal. Tomas was extremely skilled at it when it came to stealth, thanks to the smoke magic. They wanted it to be a surprise for you when you came home, regardless of whether you got the job or not, to at least put a smile on your face, and they wanted to support you because they shared the house. Bi-Han didn’t even try to stop them or reason with them; he found it quite pointless now. He had realized weeks ago that his warnings were useless. He could only protect himself in this matter.

Although he hoped to enjoy some quiet time alone at home, the pest wouldn’t leave him alone for a moment. As danger signals emanated from all over his body, either the cat was too half-smart to understand it or it didn’t care about the consequences. He didn’t want to lock himself in the study; he was already locked in there when he wasn’t going out. The moment he stepped out of the room, it grated on his nerves to see you and his brothers hanging out without a care, laughing and having fun.

When the kitten continued to cling to his ankles, squealing for the last five minutes without stopping, with a sound so thin that it almost bled his ears, Bi-Han growled, crouched down quickly, and grabbed the cat by the neck, lifting it to eye level with him. “What?! What do you want?” When the words burst from his lips almost like a roar, the silence he had longed for covered the room.

While the kitten stared at his face speechlessly, Bi-Han also breathed deeply and met the cat’s gaze. But then something unexpected happened, when the cat started purring loudly and rubbed its small head against his chin, this time Bi-Han remained absurdly motionless. He shuddered with a strange feeling when the soft fur touched his chin. It wasn’t hatred, but it was unfamiliar. It was the first time he had come into contact with a pet since childhood.

“So, this is what it takes to keep you quiet, huh?’’

The kitten let out a mew as if she understood his words, rubbed her head against him a little more, and when she started purring louder, Bi-Han felt the edges of his lips curl up to form a smile. Just like Tomas said, the kitten was tiny between his long fingers and his big hand. It was so easy to hurt her; he could have ended her life instantly with a little squeeze of his hand. But instead of doing this, without stopping the kitten’s purring for a moment, he pushed her small, soft, and imperceptibly light body into the area between his neck and shoulder, surprising even himself.

With the comfort of no one seeing him, Bi-Han collapsed on one of the seats and started stroking the little body with his other hand that was not holding the kitten. His actions were probably too careful to be funny to an outsider; he avoided ending the cat’s life for the slightest mistake because the possibility of this was quite high. Bi-Han didn’t know how long he had been sitting on the couch like that. When the kitten’s purring gradually decreased and finally stopped completely, he took her back into his lap to see her sleeping body.

The only place that was white on her body, covered with black fur, was her eyes, which was a funny detail, creating the impression that she was wearing a mask. Her ears, which had been huge at first, were now standing more proportionally on the top of her head as she gained weight. With her tiny nose in a triangle shape and pink paws underneath, curled up like a ball on his hand, sleeping deeply, Bi-Han couldn’t help but be surprised that this little animal had trusted him despite everything.

At that moment, when the front door swung open with a deafening crash, Ninja jolted upright, her fur bristling as she leaped from his lap to seek shelter behind the seat. It couldn’t have been you or his brothers who came; none of you had ever opened the door with such force before, as if intent on shattering it.

As an old silhouette, one that Bi-Han hadn’t laid eyes on in a decade, crossed the threshold accompanied by a dozen assassins, Bi-Han’s eyes widened imperceptibly. Yet, amidst the initial shock, a sense of familiarity washed over him, like finding an anchor in the stormy sea of uncertainty. Sektor’s presence, along with the assassins bearing the emblem and colors of their clan, brought a surge of relief, as if Bi-Han had finally returned to the familiar grounds of home, sense of belonging and reassurance, the tension that had gripped his shoulders for so long finally beginning to ebb away.

“Grandmaster,” Sektor greeted with a sharp inhale, leading the group in a respectful bow before Bi-Han. “It’s been too long.”

Sektor’s face bore the familiar features Bi-Han remembered, albeit with a slightly bushier and longer beard peppered with white streaks, his black hair pulled back tightly with strands of gray weaving through the dark locks. The passage of time was evident in the wrinkles near his eyes, a silent testament to the years that had slipped by in his absence. With an incredulous expression on their face, Bi-Han gestured for them to raise their heads as they greeted him. He briefly embraced Sektor, one of his right-hand men and a loyal friend, feeling a sense of familiarity and trust in his presence.

‘’You found the apartment spot on.’’ he said as he stepped back.

‘’I followed the signals from the phone with which you contacted us, and it led us to the woman you mentioned,’’ Sektor explained, gesturing to one of the men behind him with his head. ‘’She put up quite a struggle.’’

As the group of seven split into two, revealing you with an assassin gripping your arm, Bi-Han’s heart clenched at the sight of your distressed form. Your eyes widened with fear, unshed tears glistening, while blood trickled from your lip and purple fingerprints adorned your throat. The desperation in your eyes struck him deeply, igniting a fierce protective instinct within him. He didn’t even grasp how it happened; one minute ago, he felt a deep-rooted sense of belonging after seeing his clan members in front of him. But now, seeing you shaken and hurt because of him, he felt a surge of emotions he didn’t know he had. He couldn’t understand why. Why was he feeling this way? He should feel relieved, since the book only protected you before them, not from the outside world. It was a possibility that you could get hurt. But now, it didn’t sit well with him. You didn’t deserve this treatment from him or his men.

‘’Release her,’’ Bi-Han growled, his voice laced with authority, anger and a little bit of protectiveness. When the assassin hesitated, Bi-Han seized their wrist and forcefully pulled you towards him. You were startled by his grip, his touch either too cold or perhaps the recent events had left you shaken. Whatever the reason, it prompted you to avoid his gaze, focusing instead on the ground beneath you. In that moment, Bi-Han anticipated the familiar pain that usually accompanied touching skin, however, to his surprise, all he encountered was the remarkably soft and sensitive skin beneath his fingers.

“Bi-Han,” your voice, usually moderate and friendly, trembled with fear, resembling a fading whisper. ‘’Let me go, please. I just want to retreat to my room.’’

Even after everything, you were still pleading instead of demanding or seeking vengeance for the harm inflicted upon you. Standing there, head hung low and trembling slightly in his grip, the quiver in your voice as you implored him to let you retreat to your room—all these details spoke volumes. They revealed a vulnerability that struck Bi-Han sharply. In that moment, it dawned on him with startling clarity. Perhaps, from the very beginning, your actions had been genuine, and this moment was the ultimate test to reveal your true nature. It was a realization that left him reeling and cast doubt on his previous assumptions about you.

The timbre in your voice, your posture, or whatever it was, made Bi-Han pull his hand away from you as if it had been burned. Throughout the whole encounter, you hadn’t lifted your head once, and as you quietly passed into your room without a word, Bi-Han was at a loss for what to do with the emotions that were rising up inside him.

“Grandmaster?” Sektor’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and when Bi-Han turned his gaze back to the others, he saw them watching him carefully. “Did we do something wrong?”

“Wait here, I’ll be right back,” Bi-Han replied, avoiding a direct answer. “And be careful not to step on the cat.’’

With those words, he followed after you. When he looked through the partially open bedroom door, he saw you sitting on the end of the bed, your back facing him. He knocked once to announce his presence and then entered without waiting for your response. Startled, you glanced over your shoulder, an old T-shirt in one hand as you dabbed at the wound on your bleeding lip. You appeared small, vulnerable, and innocent, tears streaming down your cheeks silently. Your expression bore a sadness that tugged at his heartstrings, catching him off guard.

As Bi-Han closed the door behind him and stepped inside, you tried to wipe away your tears with a sniffle. “I didn’t know you hated me this much,” you said, your voice hoarse with emotion. Another tear crept down your cheek, and Bi-Han felt a pang of guilt wash over him at the sight of your despair.

“My orders were not in that direction. There was a miscommunication. I only asked them to come here, not to hurt you.” Bi-Han explained, though even to his own ears, his words sounded unconvincing amidst the swirling emotions he couldn’t quite grasp.

You must have been thinking the same thing too, so you didn’t answer him. Instead, you lowered your gaze, and a heavy silence settled between you. This situation bothered Bi-Han more than he expected. He had never cared much about what you thought of him until this moment. Now, he didn’t want any misunderstandings to grow, nor did he want you to think that he could give a command to harm someone defenseless. Another detail that bothered him was your demeanor; it was different from what he was accustomed to. You looked defeated, your shoulders slumped, as if trying not to take up too much space on the bed. Despite his words or his actions, there was always a flicker of light in your eyes, a desire to fight, but now it seemed extinguished. You seemed resigned, as if you had emerged from a battle knowing you couldn’t win.

‘’Show me your wound.’’ said Bi-Han, breaking the tense silence. You looked at him with a puzzled expression, clearly not expecting him to speak.

‘’It’s not a big deal. I can handle it. It would be better if you don’t keep them waiting.’’ you said kindly.

‘’Don’t tell me what to do,’’ Bi-Han growled, his voice taking on a contrary tone. Once again, you averted your gaze and shrank back, as if trying to disappear. Bi-Han cursed himself silently; he was too accustomed to speaking aggressively. Instead of further escalating the tension, he sat down beside you and ,as gently as possible, lifted your chin to examine your wound. Bi-Han had been expecting pain, but to his surprise, he felt the same softness and warmth of your skin as before. There was no biting pain or discomfort. It was unexpected and strange. Turning his gaze back to you, he found you watching him.

‘’Give me what you’re holding and stand still,’’ he said, attempting to soften his voice. You complied silently, handing over the T-shirt. As he applied pressure to your wound to stop the bleeding, he noticed you take a sharp breath.

‘’Does it hurt?’’

‘‘A little,’’ you replied softly. Bi-Han clenched his jaw, still feeling your nervous gaze on him as he tended to your wound with a care he didn’t know he possessed.

‘’Why do you hate me?’’

‘‘If I hated you, I wouldn’t be doing this right now, would I?’’ Bi-Han responded, his tone firm yet tinged with something softer. You took a shaky breath, your voice carrying a hint of innocence and hope that tugged at his heart.

‘’So you don’t?’’

Bi-Han didn’t answer, his eyes trailed to the purple fingerprints on your throat. Sektor had applied too much force. Anger surged within him at the sight of your injuries. You didn’t deserve this. Seeing you filled with fear in your own home where you should feel safe the most, blood on your lip, marks on your throat… Bi-Han had been trained to bear the weight of his responsibilities, but looking at you now, his conscience gnawed at him like never before. He should have foreseen Sektor’s aggression and prevented this. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to admit it out loud.

Before he could say anything, the sound of his brothers entering interrupted the moment. You exchanged a glance, then Bi-Han’s gaze lingered on the door.

‘’I think you’d better go,’’ you said again, your voice feather soft and light. Despite the fading fear on your face, you still looked vulnerable, like a fragile trinket that could be easily broken.

‘’I don’t trust you, but I don’t hate you,” Bi-Han said suddenly, the words escaping before he could fully process them. Your eyes widened in surprise at his unexpected admission. Something about your presence in that moment had prompted him to speak. “I hate this situation I’ve fallen into,” he continued, his voice tinged with years of pent-up frustration. “The power you have over us, this dark magic, the book, everything.” Then without waiting for your response, Bi-Han rose from his seat and walked out of the room, refusing to look back. He needed space to process his emotions, to distance himself from the turmoil that surrounded him. As he entered the living room, he found Tomas, Kuai Liang, and Sektor engrossed in conversation. Relief washed over his brothers’ faces at the sight of Sektor, and Bi-Han knew they were glad to see a familiar face after so many years. Noticing his presence, Kuai Liang turned to him.

‘’Why didn’t you tell us you had contacted Sektor before?’’ He asked, his tone more curious than reproachful.

“Your attention wasn’t quite suitable at the moment.”

Both of his brothers frowned, understanding the implication. Tomas’s gray eyes scanned the room briefly before settling on him again.

“Where is she?” He inquired, his brows furrowing further.

‘’In her room.’’ Bi-Han replied.

Tomas’s expression darkened, and he rose from his seat, his eyes narrowing as he headed towards your bedroom. Bi-Han stopped him by grabbing his arm.

‘’You should know there was an incident.’’

Tomas’s head snapped towards him then, anger clearly evident in his expression now.

‘’What are you saying-‘’

‘’Tomas?’’

When you peeked out from your bedroom, Tomas’s words hung in the air, left unfinished as he caught sight of your appearance. Bi-Han silently observed Tomas’s reaction as he swiftly reached your side. Sensing your hesitation to open the door fully, Tomas instantly noticed and, with a suppressed growl, swung the door wide open.

‘‘Who did this to you?’’ he demanded, his voice laced with pure anger.

Upon hearing Tomas’s question, Kuai Liang sprang from his seat and darted past him like a gust of wind. Bi-Han watched as his brother approached you with a kindness he had seldom seen in Tomas before, tenderly cupping your face in his palms and inspecting the wound on your lip with his thumb.

‘“I’m fine, guys. It’s nothing, really. It doesn’t even hurt.” you said, attempting to reassure them.

“Bi-Han mentioned there was an incident,’’ Kuai Liang interjected, shooting Bi-Han a knowing look before turning his gaze back to you. Bi-Han watched as the hard edge in Kuai Liang’s brown eyes softened with concern as his fingers traced the purple marks on your neck. ‘‘Tell us what really happened.’’

Your eyes darted to his, filled with desperation, as if searching for the right words. Given that you seemed to have Kuai Liang and Tomas wrapped around your finger, they were inclined to believe whatever you said, no matter how absurd or hard to believe. A clear example of this was just a few weeks ago when Tomas confronted him on your behalf. Yet, there was a palpable sense of caution in your demeanor, as if you were treading carefully to avoid escalating the situation or triggering them further.

‘’I-I…It’s just-‘’

‘’I contacted Sektor through her phone,’’ Bi-Han interjected, unable to bear the helpless expression on your face any longer.Sektor also joined him halfway through, taking charge and completing the explanation.

‘’I’m sorry for hurting you,’’ Sektor apologized, his gaze fixed on you nestled between the protective arms of his brothers. Stepping forward, he bowed as a form of apology. ‘’I thought you were responsible for their absence.’’

‘’No harm done, really. You don’t need to apologize,’’ you said, panic and embarrassment evident in your voice. ‘’I was just a bit scared. I mistook you for Quan Chi and his men at first, so I was hesitant to answer and didn’t want to cooperate.’’ As you speak, Bi-Han observes your expression closely, noting the shift from fear to relief as Sektor apologizes, his sincerity reassures you.

‘’You thought he was Quan Chi?’’ Kuai Liang asked softly, gently caressing your face. You offered him a small smile and nodded in confirmation. Tomas joined him, planting a loving kiss on your cheek.

‘’You could have been seriously hurt,” Tomas said, his tone now tinged with awe and kindness rather than anger, reflecting the concern he felt towards you. His gaze softened as he looked at you.

‘’I just wanted to protect you,’’ you whispered, your voice laden with emotion. Bi-Han felt something stir within him at your words, a feeling he couldn’t quite name. He had imagined you must have been scared when you encountered Sektor, but mistaking him for Quan Chi and still trying to protect them… it was different. No one had ever shown such bravery to him or his brothers before. They had never needed it, and they were too proud to admit otherwise. Moreover, you didn’t even know how to protect yourself, yet you still resisted until you realized who Sektor was. It was foolish, yet admirable. The courage you displayed, even in fear, was something not everyone possessed.

Bi-Han understood better at that moment why his brothers were so fond of you.

As they returned to the living room, Bi-Han recounted the events, with his brothers occasionally adding their own insights. He wasn’t sure how many hours had passed; after all, they had been absent for ten years, and it must have taken them hours to catch up on the clan’s affairs. Throughout the conversation, Bi-Han remained seated in his usual spot, while you held Ninja on your lap, nestled under the seat after you reached out to her. You were installed next to Kuai Liang, while Tomas and Sektor occupied seats opposite you.

He was relieved to learn that the clan had remained steadfast since the day they were cursed. Sektor and Cyrax had worked diligently to maintain order and uphold traditions. In fact, Sektor mentioned that their numbers had increased slightly, and their training had become more comprehensive.

Once there was nothing left to discuss, Bi-Han spoke up once again. ‘’I want you to contact Lord Liu Kang. If anyone can lift this curse, it’s him,’’ he instructed.

‘‘Won’t you come back with us?’’ Sektor’s surprise was palpable. ‘’Everything’s ready, Grandmaster. Just give us the command.’’

Bi-Han yearned to return to his homeland, to the land where he belonged, where he was born and raised… But he had to consider the bigger picture. It was impossible for them to stay away from you for long due to the curse. If you came with them, you would be vulnerable to their enemies, who might exploit you to harm the clan. Bi-Han wanted to keep this situation as secret as possible, at least until a solution was found.

‘’It’s best if the curse remains discreet between us. The sooner you reach Liu Kang, the better.’’

“But brother—‘’

‘’They can use her as a means to reach us,’’ Bi-Han interjected, cutting off Kuai Liang. When his gaze shifted to you, a guilty expression flashed across your face, as if you felt responsible, and you quickly averted your eyes. Bi-Han cursed himself silently for yet another misunderstanding. ‘’It’s for the best, for all of us. If Liu Kang can’t find a solution, return here in two months and retrieve the book. I want us to remain within the clan thereafter.’’

‘’As you wish, Grandmaster,’’ Sektor replied obediently.

***

A few days had passed since Sektor’s visit. The scar on your lip had almost disappeared, and the fingerprints on your throat had turned into a pale yellow stain. The memory of your expression upon seeing the amount of food that Tomas and Kuai Liang had bought—enough to feed a small African tribe—remained vivid in Bi-Han’s mind.

‘‘What is all this?’’ you asked, your cheeks slightly flushed with excitement. Tomas scratched the back of his head bashfully, while Kuai Liang pulled you close with a gentle arm around your waist, planting a kiss on the bruises on your neck.

‘’We did some grocery shopping.’’ Tomas replied.

‘’But how?’’ You inquired politely, fully aware of they didn’t have an money, yet the bemused expression on your face was endearing, a blend of amusement and sweetness. Your cheeks held a faint flush, while your eyes sparkled with excitement, reminiscent of a delighted child receiving a cherished gift. Witnessing your joy, Bi-Han was taken aback by how effortlessly you found happiness in such simple gestures.

‘’It would be more accurate to say we obtained it without being seen.’’ Kuai Liang chimed in, taking over the explanation from Tomas. Your raised eyebrow and playful glance prompted a chuckle from him.

‘’So you stole it, did you?’’

‘’Is it stealing if no one saw?’’ Tomas quipped, eliciting a laugh from you that echoed through the small kitchen.

‘’Tomas! That’s exactly what stealing means!’’ you exclaimed, still smiling as you surveyed the bounty of food. ‘’You even got food for Ninja, guys, I can’t believe you! I hope I can fit this much food in the fridge.’’ Turning in Kuai Liang’s arms, you planted a happy kiss on his lips, filling his face with pride and joy. “Normally, theft is never something I would approve of, but I really needed it, thank you.’’ you said, moving to hug Tomas tightly and also kiss him like you did with Kuai Liang.

‘‘We can imagine how difficult it is for you to feed us all at once. We wanted to ease your burden.’’ Tomas explained. In response to his words, the innocence in your smile deepened, and Bi-Han watched as the warmth in your eyes softened further. He had never witnessed anyone gaze at his brothers with such sincerity and purity. Your gestures, your smiles—everything you offered them seemed so natural and genuine. It was as though you held deep affection for his brothers. For a brief moment, Bi-Han found himself contemplating how it would feel if those same tender glances were directed at him. It seemed absurd to entertain such thoughts, as he typically dismissed such sentiments. Yet, in that moment, he couldn’t help but wonder. Had he ever missed something he had never experienced? Was it jealousy, or perhaps longing? The unfamiliar emotions stirred within him, leaving him perplexed yet intrigued.

Shaking off his reverie, Bi-Han sat alone, you having gone out for a walk with Kuai Liang and Tomas an hour ago, leaving him alone with the cat. Glancing at the feline curled up in his lap, he found himself stroking her soft belly absentmindedly. As he sat at his seat, his gaze wandered to the window, where colorful city lights illuminated the evening sky. Below, people bustled about, returning home after a day’s work, while the distant sounds of car engines added to the city’s cacophony.

Suddenly, the cat perked up, alerted by a sound outside. Bi-Han’s attention shifted to the door, where he heard the anxious voices of his brothers approaching. As they entered, Tomas was holding you in his arms, with Kuai Liang in tow. Bi-Han’s brow furrowed as he took in the state you were in.

“What’s going on?”

“She’s not well,” Tomas’s voice was tense, dominated by a helpless and worried expression rarely seen on his face when he felt powerless. Kuai Liang remained silent, his eyes stormy with concern, his jaw clenched so tightly that he was sure his teeth were aching. “While walking in the park, she suddenly doubled over and started holding her stomach, whimpering in pain.” he explained.

“Side effects of the book,” Kuai Liang interjected, his tone tinged with anger. “She’s been experiencing symptoms for a while but hasn’t said anything.”

Bi-Han found himself grappling with disbelief as he processed the situation. Despite a part of him anticipating this moment, he couldn’t comprehend how he missed the telltale signs. Since they showed up at your house, he had always kept his eyes on you. He waited for you to drop your mask, quietly following your every step, scrutinizing your expression with sharp eyes. Perhaps, in hindsight, he was so overwhelmed with details that he failed to see the truth before him. Normally, within a week or so, whoever wielded the book would inevitably use them for their own pleasure.

Initially, the feeling would emerge subtly, like a thin fog in the corner of their minds, not applying pressure but making its presence felt. But as the days passed, this feeling would grow hostile and aggressive, leaving no choice but to use them, as relief could only come that way. Bi-Han had heard this definition before from several different masters, none of whom could endure the escalating wave of pain to the end, especially when the solution was within reach and there were no obstacles.

The fact that you had been enduring this pain silently for a while, and moreover, that you hid it from them without flinching, was something Bi-Han couldn’t reconcile with his logic. Why were you trying to endure this pain?

“I’m all right,” you weakly protested, barely audible amidst the turmoil. Bi-Han’s gaze softened as he observed you, held in Tomas’s embrace. Sweat glistened on your forehead, your face contorted in agony. Despite not touching you, he could sense the fever radiating from your body.

“This can’t continue,” Tomas insisted, concern etched on his features. “We can help you.”

“No,” you managed to gasp in pain, struggling to open your eyes. Bi-Han could see clearly the extent of your suffering, tears lined the edges of your eyes. “I don’t want you to do this because of the curse.”

“We are going to do this for you,” Kuai Liang countered, his voice laced with anger directed at the situation rather than you. However, in that moment, it came out as a snarl.

“Doesn’t matter. After all, I’m in this state because of the curse, and I don’t want you to be put under the same obligation again.”

“Do you want us to stand by while you suffer?” Kuai Liang pressed, his concern palpable.

Unable to speak, your eyes squeezed shut as a whimper escaped your lips, writhing painfully in Tomas’s lap as you began to take deep, labored breaths, resting your head on his chest.

“She’s burning,” Tomas remarked, his voice increasingly concerned. Then, as if a realization dawned on both of them simultaneously, Bi-Han crossed his arms over his chest and gave them a piercing, almost deadly glare.

“No.”

***

He couldn’t comprehend how he found himself lying in bed with you. Moments ago, he was at odds with Kuai Liang and Tomas, and now he lay on your double-sized bed, staring at the ceiling. His logical mind urged him to leave, yet his body remained rooted for reasons he couldn’t fathom.

Turning to where you lay, he observed you from his position. There wasn’t much space between you on the bed. Your body curled into a fetal position, drenched in sweat, causing the sheets beneath you to dampen. You looked so pitiful and helpless, as the only thing you could do at the moment was keep breathing.

“Why are you resisting?” Bi-Han’s voice lacked its usual aggression or coldness, replaced instead by confusion. He couldn’t grasp why you still kept enduring this suffering.

“I want to keep all of you safe,” your fragile voice answered. Bi-Han’s brows furrowed deeper at your response.

“Is it worth enduring this pain?”

“Yes.” Your answer was swift and simple, stirring an ache in Bi-Han’s heart. ‘’I told Kuai Liang that I would offer you a safe space, and I will do so as well. You deserve more than that, but this is all I can do. I don’t want you to do anything that the book obliges.’’

What you thought was insignificant was actually a tremendous sacrifice for their comfort. He was speechless for the first time in his life. He didn’t know what to say, what the right and necessary words were. He had never met someone like you who sacrificed themselves in this way before. As he needed a few seconds to digest what he was hearing, he simply looked at you.

At that moment, Bi-Han heard the answer to the ‘Why’ question that had been spinning in his mind for weeks. Because you cared not only about your brothers but also about him with all his thorns, sharp words, and rude manners. Despite everything, you weren’t keeping him apart from Kuai Liang and Tomas, and you were enduring this pain inside for him as much as you were enduring it for them.

As you writhed in pain, still maintaining a careful distance, Bi-Han realized that what he had been waiting for wasn’t you to drop your mask, but for him to acknowledge your genuine care. You didn’t play games; your sole purpose was to only help. While gaining the trust of Kuai Liang and Tomas, you rejected their assistance, a reaction unfamiliar to him and his brothers. Despite the opportunity for relief, you refused their aid.

With another whimper, you completely crumpled down where you were, and when tears started to flow from your eyes once again, Bi-Han pulled you to himself as he grasped you, without thinking about anything else, along with the emotions that sprouted in his heart. Even though he knew that you would be surprised under normal circumstances, your indifference and continuing to cry quietly while being embraced by him by doing the exact opposite, tugged at his heart strings.

“I’m sorry,” your voice muffled against his neck, yet Bi-Han heard every word. “I know you don’t like me… I’m sorry you had to endure this.’’

“Be silent, woman. You talk too much.” His tone was surprisingly gentle as Bi-Han held your sweat-drenched body against him tightly. A small moan escaped your lips, a sign of relief amidst the pain. Since Bi-Han has always kept his distance from you, you’ve had almost zero contact with him, so in addition to his body being cold, his touch was also more effective compared to his brothers. That’s why, actually, part of the pain you suffered was because of him, that you couldn’t touch him the way you could have touched Kuai Liang or Tomas.

Your body slowly relaxed in his arms, Bi-Han’s hand finding its way under your shirt, offering what little coolness he could. It felt natural to hold you this way, as if it was where you belonged all along.

“Bi-Han…” your voice was soft and vulnerable, triggering his protective instincts. As he rested his chin on top of your head, completely caging you with his arms, your breathing steadied a bit, and the tremors subsided. “You don’t have to do this.” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. Your lips brushed against his throat as you spoke, a detail Bi-Han found himself liking.

“I remember telling you to be silent.”

“I don’t want to cause you any more inconvenience. I’m feeling better, please, you can let me go.” you said, the obvious lie and stubbornness in your voice softening Bi-Han’s heart while simultaneously angering him. He grabbed you by the neck so that he could see your face, and when he lifted your chin up with his thumb, he faced your innocent gaze. All the while his touch was gentle and incredibly cautious, much like when he handled Ninja. You resembled her at the moment, fragile and delicate.

“Under normal circumstances, you can’t force me to do something I don’t want to,” he asserted, his hand tracing from your chin to your temples. As his fingers moved over the lines, a moment of relief washed over you, your eyes closing briefly in response. Bi-Han found solace in providing you with comfort, a departure from his typically cold demeanor that often left others chilled rather than soothed. “This is one of those rare instances.” When Bi-Han whispered the last part towards your lips, your eyes opened, and you suddenly looked at him with so much emotion that Bi-Han felt his breath getting smaller and clogged in his throat. He could see his own reflection in your eyes.

‘’I have been cruel to you, even though you did not deserve it.’’ His confession enveloped the room like a heavy blanket, yet Bi-Han didn’t feel suffocated beneath it. On the contrary, he felt a sense of relief, as if he had shed a bit more of the burden he carried. When his gaze shifted from your lips back to your eyes, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart at the profound understanding reflected in them.

‘‘You had your reasons, it’s okay.’’ You said it with your usual forgiveness. ‘’I have not given up hope for you.” Despite everything, when you managed to put a small smile on your pain-weary face, Bi-Han felt that his heart was being suppressed inside his rib cage, as if it was being squeezed from both sides. How pure your heart was, so full of kindness that Bi-Han started to feel like absolute shit when he thought about the times he hurt you so many times.

‘’You make me feel things I’ve never felt before.’’ He said after a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he spoke.

‘’Is that… a bad thing?’’ You said in a timid voice.

“No,” Bi-Han said without hesitation. “It’s something I never thought possible until now.” He had buried his feelings so deeply that now, as they began to surface, distinguishing and naming each one became a daunting task. He felt overwhelmed by them, but refusing to ignore them any longer felt like the only honorable choice, especially after witnessing your endurance of pain on their behalf.

While he seethed with frustration towards his brothers, he never anticipated finding himself in the same predicament as them. Typically, he’d be harsh on himself for failing to maintain his vigilance. Even before assuming leadership of the clan, he embodied the role of the older brother, a figure of experience and protection, standing resolute where they faltered.

Yet, as he observed you, he teetered on the edge of conflicting emotions. You touched a part of him that had remained untouched, your essence reaching deep into his soul. Physically fragile you may have been, but your heart—your heart was a beacon of forgiveness and strength. Your presence illuminated every space you entered with a comforting warmth, a stark contrast to his reserved attitude.

Despite this, a part of him resisted. A lifetime of emotional barricades made him wary of letting anyone in, fearful of disrupting the balance he’d maintained. If Liu Kang couldn’t find a solution to the curse, he was doomed to lose you. Did he really want to take this risk despite knowing the inevitable outcome? As he looked at you, the answer became clear in his mind. Though brief, even if it were to end eventually, Bi-Han yearned to taste the light before returning to eternal darkness. You were a rarity, a once-in-a-lifetime encounter he couldn’t bear to reduce to a mere ‘wish’. No, he wished to imprint every moment, every sensation of you, onto his memory. The desire boiled within him, igniting his veins like wildfire, as his gaze once again descended from your eyes to your lips.

‘’Throughout my life, I’ve learned to be self-sufficient, prioritizing my clan above all else and neglecting my own desires. It’s become second nature, so much so that I didn’t realize what I truly needed until this moment.” His thumb grazed your lower lip, a gesture filled with longing. “It’s you,” Bi-Han declared, his voice echoing with a possessive growl that emboldened him. “I want to taste you, to feel you. I need you.”

Your expression softened even further, a tired yet content smile gracing your lips. “I’m here.” Those words were all Bi-Han needed to act. As his lips met yours, he felt the warmth radiating from your body, a heat he was determined to temper. Your kiss was slow and tentative, your movements guided by exhaustion and lingering pain. Bi-Han welcomed your presence, relishing the sensation of your lips against his. He felt every subtle shift and curve; your lips were so much softer than he ever could imagine, delicate like butterfly wings. Your taste was intoxicatingly sweet and warm, tinged with the fever that had consumed you, yet achingly innocent.

It felt like stepping onto solid ground after sailing through a raging storm, finally finding a peace and comfort he had never experienced before. It felt like returning home, to where he truly belonged—welcoming, gentle, and forgiving.

“Bi-Han,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if afraid to disturb the delicate moment. Pulling back slightly, you sought to catch your breath, your lips brushing against the tip of his chin in a tender kiss. Nestling your head against the crook of his neck, your hand resting gently on the side of his neck. “Thank you for trusting me enough to give me a chance.” you murmured, your words laden with sincerity.

Then, as if on cue, your body grew heavy, slipping into the embrace of sleep. Careful not to disturb you, he adjusted your position to ensure your comfort, his hand instinctively finding its way to gently stroke your hair. It felt natural, as if he had been doing it all his life, bringing him a sense of peace he had long yearned for.

“Trust, huh,” Bi-Han whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. It struck him then that this was exactly what he was offering you in this moment. As you lay peacefully, surrendering yourself to him, Bi-Han couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Everything felt so right, so true, in this moment with you. If breaking his oath was the price to taste this peace, he was willing to pay it. His decision was made the instant he lay down beside you, even if he couldn’t bring himself to admit it.

As your skin gradually returned to its normal temperature, Bi-Han found comfort in the gentle contact. Your touch, a testament to your presence, was undeniably soothing. It carried a silent promise of healing, a balm for the wounds inflicted by the curse. Like the calm waves of the morning sea caressing the shore, your essence enveloped his soul, offering comfort and reassurance. The rhythm of your breathing, the soft glow of the lamp, the weight of your body against his—all of it contributed to a sense of serenity that permeated the room. For a moment, Bi-Han allowed himself to relax fully, succumbing to the tranquility that surrounded him. With a sense of surrender, he closed his eyes, trusting that his brothers would keep watch and ensure your safety for the hours ahead.

He had harbored a lifelong aversion to physical contact, but now, as he yearned to etch into his memory the sensations evoked by your touch, along with every intricate detail, he realized that touching could bring comfort and pleasure instead of pain.

And it was all because of you…

***

Author’s Note : As you can see, Bi-Han was a virgin before being sealed inside the book, due to his strong aversion to physical touch… But! He’s in good hands now. Welcome to the party, Bi-Han, albeit a bit late. Better late than never, right? By the way, Bi-Han sees the reader as non-threatening, which is why her touch doesn’t hurt him at all, but he isn’t aware of this. Subconsciously, he’s reacting this way, and it’s only with his brothers where he truly feels safe. Reader is now a part of that inner circle.

See you in the next chapter! 🥰

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[scarlet-alleyway]

Hi again, Anon! I'm pretty sure these are all from the same person from that other ask, so I hope you don't mind if I answer all three of these at once: I'm glad to hear you enjoyed the new chapter :)

About changing Ch 16, I personally won't be updating it unless there's a typo somewhere. However, I give you full permission to download that chapter and change Leo's interaction however you like- as long as you don't re-upload your version of the chapter anywhere online.

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This is actually a blanket permission for all of my readers. If there's something in my story that you don't like, it's okay to download the fic and change it into something that suits you better- as long as you keep your version of the story offline.

I hope that's a reasonable compromise, and that no one is offended/upset by my decision to not change the story on AO3.

Wishing everyone a wonderful day <3

#anon asks #ao3 stuff #sorry to get a little too serious about this #but at the end of the day im writing my story for myself first and foremost- and i'm not really comfortable adapting my story #simply because someone on the internet didn't love the way a part of it was written... #that being said i want you to enjoy what you're reading #and this story is supposed to be relaxing and easygoing at the end of the day #so you're all more than welcome to fix it however you see fit #as long as you keep your own version private and personal to you

[stiffyck]

Hello everyone! I've been wanting to do a DTIYS challenge for a few days now and I finally made something!

This is a redraw of an older piece I drew that I really liked. The old version and the rules will be under the cut!

Rules:

no deadline! You have as much time as you need if you wish to participate!

try to stick to the theme - keep the flower field and the overall happy vibes! But feel free to use another pose entirely!

You can use either your own Scar design or mine!

If you do this challenge please tag me or use the #stiffdtiys2024 tag so I can see your art!

(A little note- any type of art is allowed btw! If you wish to participate but don't know if you want or are able to draw it you can write something or do a cosplay or anything. All art forms are welcome! Just have fun with it!)

That's all! Thank you everyone for being so nice! All the nice tags and comments on my art mean the world to me and I'm incredibly happy that you like my silly art :]

#stiff talk #my art #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft #hermitcraft s8 #goodtimeswithscar fanart #stiffdtiys2024

[earthtooz]

x : CALL ME BACK : *+ﾟ

in which: ratio has been waiting for your call since you left.

warnings: FLUFF i promise, 1.6k wc, gn!reader, ratio being horribly in love and pining so badly, reader works as a space researcher, reader is a sunshine so this is basically sunshine x grump/asshole, written during his first release/ v1.6.

a/n: the way i wrote the synopsis made it sound like it was sad. maybe i'll write an angst version of the same prompt. anyways i listened to 'she calls me back' by noah kahan on loop when writing this, enjoy!

Dr. Ratio is not happy with you.

It has been three weeks and three days since he last received any sort of notification from you, any sort of indication that you were healthy and alive whilst traversing the universe. Typically, you would send daily updates of how your exploration was progressing, or new intergalactic discoveries of yours, regardless of whether or not he cared. 

(He cares. He cares more than his indifferent texts lead on. There’s a reason he always responds, after all, and it’s not just because you’ve been friends for almost two decades now.

To him, your constant messages and calls told him that you were thinking of him, and the more space he occupies in your mind, the happier he is; that is a theory he discovered years ago.

He happily listens to all of your rambles. He'll listen whilst in the middle of grading various papers or writing one of his own, he'll listen whilst eating, he'll listen to you as long as you reach out.

So where are the messages he was waiting for?)

Today is the arranged day for you to return from your new mission. Ratio has been counting down the days since he first marked it on his large desk calender, your return being the first event on his list. 

He is undeniably excited to see you, yet he feels petty enough to not make the trip down and welcome you by the docks, even if your ship’s landing zone is just outside the University.

It’s irrational of him to hold your inactivity against you. Perhaps you just encountered an inconvenience and lost your phone, or wherever you are does not have good reception to send a text halfway across the galaxy. He understands that your safety comes first on these missions, but he can’t help but feel neglected, and he curses the fragility of his ego for making him this way. 

The clock strikes another hour. From his office, Ratio cannot see the ships and come and go, but his ‘scholarly instincts’ are telling him that you are on your way. 

Not even ten minutes later, a figure comes barrelling into his office.

“There he is!” You exclaim exuberantly. It seems that the length of the mission did not erode your enthusiasm, and he’s grateful that it is as contagious as he remembers. “And here I was wondering where you were, did you dig your nose too deep in those encyclopaedias you love to memorise?”

You’re still in your research gear, hips and legs buckled to the brim with various equipment that are necessary to your work, and his heart beats guiltily at the sight. 

You came to see him as soon as you landed. He was your first destination after a tiring three and a half weeks away from home, not the comfort of your home or bed or shower; him. 

“Ha. Ha.” The purple-haired laughs dryly, getting up from his chair and rounding his desk. “Good to see you still alive.”

“What’s with the lack of energy? Didn’t you miss me, Veritas?” 

He did. More than you could ever imagine. “Of course I did.” 

Opening his arms for a hug, you all but run into his embrace, throwing your arms and anchoring yourself to the sturdiness of his torso. After not seeing you for so long, your familiar frame and warmth provides nothing but comfort. 

“Welcome home,” Ratio murmurs into your hairline. 

Your arms squeeze him tighter. “Good to be back.” 

After a few beats of silence, you step away from him and he reluctantly detaches himself from you. 

“I got you something,” you say whilst setting down your bag. Pulling out a suitcase, the purple-haired looks at you inquisitively. “It’s a chess board! I got you a new one to add to your collection!”

Ratio doesn’t bother correcting you that his ‘collection’ only has seven boards at most, but that does not negate his gratitude. 

Even whilst away, you thought of him, and that is a great victory.

“Thank you. We can play together, sometime,” he proposes.

“Oh, please. I could never beat you.”

“Giving up before you even start? That does not sound like the Y/n I know.”

“It’s not ‘giving up’, it’s picking my battles wisely. I could never best you in a game of chess, or any competition of intellect,” you laugh as if the idea itself was ridiculous.

“You shouldn’t discredit yourself based on your own assumptions. I think you make a very capable opponent.”

“I know your tricks, Veritas. Buttering me up just so you can chip at my armour and knock me down when I’m weak, have you no shame?” Your voice is light, with an air of joviality to it, and the purple-haired is enchanted. 

It seems that you don’t know him as well as you think. He finds no shame in hogging as much of your time as possible, even if it is through a game of chess that he will beat you at. He also hopes that you don’t know him well enough to hear the subtle desperation in his voice when he enquires if you’ll be leaving for another mission soon.

“I don’t believe so,” you tell him nonchalantly. “I’ll be stationed here for about two months. They’re expecting a detailed, twenty-page length report from me, so I guess I’ll be locked in my study until that’s complete.”

Ratio clicks his tongue. “Pity.”

(It’s not a pity. He gets to spend two months with you in compensation for the month that he was robbed of.)

“Not to sound self-absorbed, but why weren’t you there are the dock to pick me up?” You ask. 

“Were you disappointed?”

“A little. You’re always the first face I see whenever I come home. It was jarring to not see you amongst the crowd.”

Jealousy slashes at his chest, and he turns away from you to hide his sour expression. “I apologise, I must have lost track of the days.”

“You’re Doctor Veritas Ratio. According to your crazy schedules, there are 72 hours instead of 24 in a standard day, you never lose track.” 

Truth is a fascinating thing. By nature, it is black and white, but it’s perception is what traps fools. Humans have strived to discover an uncontested truth for as long as they have existed, but as long as opinions exist, it will constantly be revised and put together again, ambiguity heavy in the air that surrounds it. 

You, however, are even more fascinating with the way you can deconstruct him so easily.

“If you must know, I was… upset with you because you were not messaging me.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Your laughter is even more so.

Hubris can really kill a man. Ratio does not need to consult the texts of ancient philosophers to confirm that. 

“Really?” You choke out in between cackles. “I didn’t think such menial things mattered to you!”

“Normally, they don’t.”

“So, I’m a special case then?”

“I shouldn’t need to spell it out for you.”

“Veritas!” You coo, placing your hands on either sides of his face. “I am so flattered!” 

Dr. Ratio is a renowned scholar with eight doctorate degrees. The mere mention of his name will inspire hundreds, if not, thousands, of people who have the faintest lust for academia, spreading marvel and fear amongst students and professors alike. His achievements will be engraved and celebrated by the university for centuries to come, and his classes are so notoriously hard that the passing rate is 3%. 

And yet, here he is, reduced to putty in your hands.

Perhaps that is who he is at his core. Rid from him the alabaster head, the codex, and pride, you’ll be left with a man who is ardently in love with his best friend.

“Stop it, this is ridiculous!” He mutters, hoping to salvage his image at least a little.

You listen to his demands, separating from him with a hearty laugh. “So you really do like me, that’s nice to know.”

(It is far beyond ‘like’ now. Can you come back and hold his face again?)

“I like you when you’re quiet.”

“Clearly not if you loathed my virtual silence! Which, by the way, was caused because the planet I was on had horrible reception. I really need to switch cell providers, mine doesn’t even reach to half way across the galaxy, apparently.”

“Well. I am glad you survived the three weeks without reception, it must have been a formidable challenge for you.”

“Were you worried for me?”

Of course he was. Whilst you freely roam the expansiveness of the universe, the only thing that anchors him to you across the span of light years is a message. “You should stop asking questions you know the answer to.”

“Boo, you’re no fun.” You lean down to grab the bags that lay at your feet, swinging them over one shoulder. Do you have to leave so soon? “Well, I better get going. I’m aching for a shower and a nap. Now that I have proper data and Wifi, rest assured that I will be texting you soon.”

“Cannot wait.” 

“Goodbye, Veritas! I shall see you soon!” 

‘Soon’ is a relative time frame. He can only hope that you won’t keep him waiting again.

The door clicks shut behind you, and not even five seconds later, his phone buzzes with a call.

“Sorry!” Your voice greets from the other end of the line. “Was just testing if my reception actually worked.”

“There is a reason your day job is a Space Researcher and not a comedian.”

“Can’t you at least laugh? Let’s grab dinner tomorrow at half past six, make yourself free, Veritas!” 

You hang up before he can even get a word in, and he’s left to stare at the blank screen of his phone with an idiotic smile.

Everything’s alright when you call him back.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

#earthtooz: honkai star rail #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #ratio x reader #dr ratio fluff #dr. ratio x reader #tumblr please show this in the tags

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby [part 2]

(alastor w/ angel daughter reader)

[caution: NOT PROOFREAD oh and angst hehe]

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. )

[tags: @luujjvi @c-lunette @mokisano @ghostdoodlen @wildfire153 @anonymousewrites @bewitchedbymadness @thisbitchreallyneedssleep @22carolina08 @original-person]

[remember if you want to keep in touch with a particular series I write, let me know in comments or messages you want to be tagged! you will only be tagged once unless specified that you want to be tagged till the end of a particular series!]

(also once again, apologies if alastor’s last name isn’t actually altruist qwq it’ll stick till the end of this fic but I’ll try not to mention it as much)

For the first time in years, you feared being in heaven.

Not that you felt unsafe, just that you felt incredibly uncomfortable seeing your serial killer dad who's now a demon be invited to be in the place where light and goodness is it's main foundation.. even reassuring yourself that it was temporary didn't calm you down when you were flying away from him. For your own sake you even avoided where the welcoming was happening.

Ahh but.. it also didn't help that he was following you around after the show without you knowing.

After the angels had performed their song to welcome in the princess of hell, her apparent partner, and-- him.. everyone sort of went their separate ways and the visitors from below started to relax in their new yet temporary places of stay. You felt a bit of relief when you assumed Alastor would also be setting himself in to relax as well.

During heaven's performance you decided to take a breather at a local coffee shop, one where you thankfully always had a spot there where you could hide away from the huge windows of the cafe.

Although right after that, unbeknownst to you at the time, Alastor was looking for you, but obviously pretended as if he was looking for a good bite to eat.. unfortunately for him he had to behave and he couldn't eat a living walking thing until after they came back home.

Oh how bummed out he was.

You were in a far corner inside the shop, as mentioned before anyone that was able to look in through the windows wouldn't be able to see you since you were out of view. Drinking your favorite beverage that the shop offered and eating a filling snack to relax your body and mind. Safe to say you were now more in touch with your feelings and weren't overly panicked as you once were.

'Why is he here.. is he an advisor to the princess? a companion?.. some kind of servant?.. she's really young though, perhaps she's ward to him or something.. but she has her.. dad.. and I'm sure he must be alive still.. ' You thought, different theories and ideas passing by in and out your head trying to make sense of the situation.

'perhaps.. he's here to see me?..' you hoped, then scolded yourself right after,

'nono.. I can't be wanting that.. sure he raised you but he's a monster. he killed you, _____. get a grip..' you sighed deeply while massaging your temples in frustration 'even if he seemed to not.. have meant to do that. he tried to kill someone else anyway, that poor man could've died instead of you.' you tried to reason with yourself, coming to a single conclusion in the end.

Eyes glued to your drink. staring at it with intensity.

"I regret nothing." you claimed to yourself in a low mumble, not enough for anyone close to hear.

Ahh.. but you did miss him very much.. the version of him that you grew up with at least.

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You were in your warm and humble home with your father. It was a fairly cold night with rain dropping onto the roof of your home yet the warmth of the house seemed to make the cold seem almost cozy to you.

Your small footsteps could be heard running around the house, as your little seven year old self ran around you seemed to be giggling uncontrollably with a peculiar circular item in your hand.

"No running in the house _____, remember what I told you." Alastor exclaimed in slight irritation as he could hear you from afar while he was cleaning up the table from the dinner you two just had, he started slightly missing the times when you didn't know how to walk and when you simply just blabbered baby nonsense.. he definitely doesn't miss the sleepless nights of baby crying though.

You huffed and puffed as you then plopped the item on the sofa, it was a disk, a record. You then climbed yourself up and once your little body landed on the cushions you then picked yourself up once more to then grab the disk and turn to the small table right beside the sofa where a large phonograph rested on.

"Papa!" you exclaimed, "Papa! Music music!.." you pleaded, your little voice begging to once again turn on the music playing machine.

Alastor faintly chuckled at your little demands, amusing how such a small thing dares to command but nonetheless he found it silly at how you tried. "Yes yes my dear, I'll be right there." He then set the last few dirty dishes away to be cleaned soon since he couldn't say no to listening to some tunes before bed.

You smiled brightly as your little feet playfully tapped on the cushions, almost jumping. Noticing your developing excitement Alastor hurried over to you.

"Ah-ah-ahh, no jumping on the sofa my dear. I'm excited as well but I can't have you break your little head open, that'd be no fun at all!" Well.. that and he didn't wanna ruin his cushions, but nonetheless he cared for your wellbeing the most even if he wasn't fond of admitting it.

His hands gently took the disk from your hands, carefully setting the disk on the phonograph to have it play your favorite tunes. Once you two heard the amazing first few notes of jazz was when Alastor settled down beside you on the sofa and you started clapping in delight.

Alastor looked at you almost fondly, letting out a small huff of delight at your reactions. Your innocence seemed to be something that contained him from wanting to continue his murder spree, although his bloodlust always wins in the end, he seems to always willingly pause his life for you.

Plus, he loves jazz just as much as you do.. why would he miss out on this?

Your fit of giggles dwindled down but didn't stop, in a sudden burst of energy you jumped off the sofa and then started dancing similarly yet obviously a bit more goofy to how you've seen couples and single dancers dance in the nights of Mardi Gras or just parties your father took you when he would be invited. Your little dance moves seemed to be fiddled with confidence yet they were so off from what you were trying to attempt, nonetheless you were happy, and that's what Alastor secretly liked to see.

"Dance with me papa dance with me!" you pleaded again, your smaller hands grabbing his larger one and tugging at it, trying to get him to stand up.

"_____ darling no tugging, besides I just sat down my dear and I'm exhausted." He sighed, his constant smile always present yet he was visibly a bit tired from the day he had.

But oh how you persisted, and how darn adorable you were as a kid. "But papaaa!.. pretty please! I wanna dance how you and that singing lady did the last time we went on those big loud places!"

"Parties, dear." he corrected you, but let out a long sigh and got up. Because no matter how tired he was or how annoyed he seemed to be he didn't mind keeping you happy.

So that's what he did, he danced with you. Swinging you, twirling you around to the melody and the beat, your cheers of glee and uncontrollable laughter motived him to keep up with your excitement. Not only that but your smile, genuine and pure, it was what he needed to get himself to match your energy. Jazz music was what always connected you two and it always brought you together no matter what.

At the end of the song Alastor ended it by gently throwing you up in the air and catching you, letting you get your last giggles out. You both laughed together, your bond ever growing stronger. You truly did tame this bloodthirsty killer without even trying or knowing, of course you were too young to know.

Once the giggle frenzy ended you both finished your dancing with a long sigh, the phonograph ending it's segment. You then suddenly yawned and rested your head in the crook of his neck over his shoulder, snuggling for warmth and for a sudden need to sleep.

"Seems like my little fawn needs sleep now, almost past your bedtime young lady." Normally he'd scold you a bit more strictly as he usually did, but seeing as how you were basically ready to fall into a pile of dreams he just felt no need to do that.

"Sorries papa.. I forgot.." your little words muffled by your face hidden in his neck.

Alastor was never one for being touched, let alone hugged or snuggled. Oh but he had no right to complain, he's had you this close since you were a baby.. to him this just felt normal now.

Of course no one but you could be this close to him, you're his little girl after all.

"No need to worry, my dear." He stopped in front of your bedroom, carefully opening the door with a creak following after. With careful footsteps he walked towards your bed, pulling the blanket away to then gently place you on your cozy sheets with care.

Alastor gently moved any misplaced hairs away from your face as he then pulled your soft and warm blanket up to your neck. Your sleeping face reassuring him.

"Sweet dreams sweetheart." His usual smile softening a bit more before backing away and slowly heading towards the door of your room, lingering for a few extra seconds to take one last look at you before slowly closing the door and heading off to bed himself.

After the click of the door closing can be heard, you mumbled "Goodnight papa.." with a smile, even if in the end Alastor didn't get to hear it.

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You missed him, dearly.

A weight fell on your chest, your eyes begging to form tears. You missed when you had that childhood innocence, when you didn't know what he was capable of, when he was nothing but a saint to you.

It still hurt after all these years, you thought he was a good man.. a bit strict, blunt, a bit too true to himself and definitely peculiar but.. the Alastor that raised you would never do that. Until you were obviously proven otherwise.

Oh but I guess you were too into your reminiscing that you didn't notice the background gasps and small shrieks of surprise and fear, and you didn't yet feel the eventual stares and eerie presence right in front of you.

"What don't you regret, my dear?"

You choked on your drink in surprise almost spitting it out,

that fucking radio voice again.

For heaven's sake how did he find you?? He couldn't have seen you through the windows. Did he follow you??.. did you just not notice.. Oh geez maybe getting used to having your guard down during all your years in heaven definitely didn't help with this situation.

You continued coughing on your drink, even punching your chest a bit to get that last good cough out. The radio demon pulled the chair in front of you to sit across from you, not waiting to ask permission.

To him he didn't need to, he's your father after all.

Once you calmed down you immediately avoided eye contact, only giving him a once second glance to confirm it was him in hopes your ears were playing a trick on you-- they weren't.

"How.. how'd you find me.." you mumbled in slight fear.

"Oh how would I not! Sweetheart I'm your father of course, as your father I must have those parental instincts.. I always know where you are!" he exclaimed, seemingly proud of this.

"I'm guessing those 'parental instincts' didn't kick in when you stabbed me, huh." you spat with attitude, unafraid to be rude to him with so much sin he's committed.

A sharp static sound came from him, as if in slight shock at the disrespect and comeback you gave. "Watch the attitude young lady, you're still an Altruist you know."

You scoffed, hating at how indifferent you felt about your last name.

"Not by blood though.."

"I raised you, don't forget that." he spat back, starting to get irritated.

"And because of that I owe you?"

"Yes, yes indeed! Smart girl you are."

You scoffed at his response, finally getting the guts to look at him in the face. His appearance frightened you, disgusted you even.

Is this truly the man that raised you?

"As a matter of fact, I actually don't." you crossed your arms in annoyance and a huff. Your eyes couldn't help but to slowly drift to off to the people behind him and you see fellow angels you know continue to stare in awe or fear, of course at Alastor. With all eyes on you and mostly him it made you feel a little embarrassed. You cowered down a bit and your wings went over your head and shoulders a bit as if to hide you behind a 'curtain' of sorts.

Alastor obviously noticed this, but could care less about the stares.

You sighed, "Look, Alasto--"

"I think you mean to call me 'father'." he interrupted as he obviously seemed a bit sassy about it. "Even 'dad' is just simply fine and dandy with me!"

"No, I can't," you frowned, wishing you could "I won't. Not after what you did to me, to that man that night, and to every other poor soul you hurt."

Your face slowly scrunched up in disgust "You don't deserve my forgiveness, my mercy."

In embarrassment and feeling tears want to shed you grabbed your drink and got up to walk out, before you could get past Alastor though he grabbed your wrist harshly.

"Uh-- hey.. let go--"

"I didn't mean to do what I did, my dove." His voice turned into a weird version of gentle, almost uncharacteristically gentle. "I never intended to take your life away."

He sounded genuine.

Could he?.. Would he?..

Maybe, just maybe--

"No." you spat, "Maybe you didn't mean to hurt me, but you definitely meant to hurt others. That's something I can't forgive and I'm sure your victims wouldn't neither." you glared at him, setting your foot down. "I refuse to call you my father, not until I know that you repent for your sins but knowing you I highly doubt that." You snatched your wrist away and for a slight second you stopped caring about what others thought when they'd see this "Besides, you killed me two weeks after I turned eighteen.. don't even include the years that passed since the 30s and present time so clearly you can't control me anymore old man."

But Alastor wouldn't go down that fast nor easily.

His sharp smile widened, you felt immense dread.

"Oh little one, no matter how far you are or how much you try to disown me you are forever connected to me. I made you who you are and you can try to run and fly off however long you want but in the end you're tied to me whether you like it or not. Even in death."

He seemed deathly serious with his statements so much so that you could've sworn you could see his shadow giggling and smirking in a way that seemed even worse and more than evil.

Your breath quietly hitched in fear in noticing this to the point where it even forced you to take a step back. He let out a sinister chuckle before you couldn't help but speed out of the shop and flew out.

You couldn't handle him, he was shameless when showing this side of him.. how could he be this shameless and normal?? How could he act like this and be proud about it? He killed people and doesn't regret it, you being the only exception just didn't feel right and it wasn't fair!

Not to you.

He may have been able to silently control you and vaguely manipulate you to believe he was anything but a bad person back when you were alive and young but now your eyes are wide open and so is your heart.

You have such a bad feeling about this whole thing, he was up to no good he just couldn't be-- he had to be using the princess as an excuse to do something shitty.

Good thing you had plenty of connections, if you just played your cards right...

Hey.. wasn't there something about a court meeting happening soon?

On the other hand Alastor stayed sitting there still chucking devilishly, his intentions and true feelings smeared and unclear.

With a snap of his fingers a cup of black coffee appeared and he began drinking it with a sense of casual glee and eyes closed in delight. Until he felt eyes on him, two nearby to be exact. He opened one eye to look at the angels staring at him and they both seemed like more biblically accurate angels, both having one eye and all. The radio demon shot them an evil grin.

"Oh adolescents these days, rebellious aren't they." He cackled before going back to drinking his coffee, the angels creeped out by his interaction soon scurried away from him.

The fear. He enjoyed it, just not really from you.

(thank you all who asked for part 2!! of course I had to deliver since you all really wanted it and honestly I love adding flashbacks to memories Alastor and the reader had when they were alive, makes their ending on earth just that more painful (as if it wasn't clear I love angst). Honestly I don't mind making more parts for this! If the demand is consistent and you guys still want to keep up with it I have a few ideas to keep this going! Once again thank you so much for reading!! Now I must finish writing for other stories lolllll!)

(p.s: i highly recommend listening to any mitski song while reading this I think it fits well especially with the flashback scene hehe)

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hellaverse #alastor #alastor platonic #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin spoilers #radio demon #alastor x reader platonic #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel platonic #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel heaven

[qvrcll]

the little things they do — luffy, zoro, nami, usopp & sanji.

summary: what do they do that makes you tick? that makes your heart glide through your chest and fester at your throat? that makes you glissade through hell itself, for the pleasure that it brings?

warnings: slight tension but no nsfw, fluff, nothing too bad!

notes: i started binge watching op / opla recently and decided to give i a go at writing for them! literally could not stop my fingers from typing this out. i’m a little new to op, so i hope you enjoy nonetheless :-] i promise im working on another part of college melodrama! i just wanted to try something new to get the brain juices flowing <3

sanji — moves you by your waist

sanji is keen with his women, but with you, he’s even more so. he’s gentle with it, even if he doesn’t need to be, because you make him aberrantly nervous, yet vilely confident in his etiquette — and today just cements it. it’s a boring day, and that prompts you to keep yourself stationed in the kitchen, where the rest of the straw hats find their own circles to situate themselves in (pure boredom, much to sanji’s dismay). the space is overcrowding and you’re halfway into disputing something that luffy insists is true fact, when sanji’s mellow palms come to gripe gently, carefully, at your waist — “excuse me, beautiful,” he mouths, fiendish and close to tasting his teeth in a marvellous grin as he effortlessly moves you, gingerly in so many ways, so he can reach the cabinet. you stutter out some convoluted version of a yes, o-of course! … safe to say, you can barely pay much consideration to luffy’s rebuttal as the tepedity of the cook’s hands lay in repetitive, illusive strokes against your hips for more times than one to just consider it an act to retrieve spices from a cabinet.

zoro — has one hand in your back pocket

he’s silent, mischievous with his antics. the upper part of your brain warns you of his skepticism, his cruelly hard body, his thick cheek. but your heart buds violently under what you can only assume is his effect. and it’s only furthered, when you are too close to him for comfort in this mini-party the crew has going on atop the going merry. you spot him nodding off in the corner of your eye, barely even knowing of his current footing in his chair as he slumps off. you urge him to go to bed, to ditch the drinks and gain a full night’s rest. but he shakes his head stiffly, his rather large hand slinking into the back pocket of your pants, where it lays dormant and so, so close to squeezing. “stay. this way, i won’t lose you.” you fail to yelp, because every nerve has been short-wired. twisted. re-twisted. re-wired. you can only stand close, fluxing against the warmth of his palm in your back pocket, as the faintest of reds colour his cheeks. a smile is welcome.

luffy — hugs your waist

being a captain is luffy’s share of the burden that comes with his quest of finding the one piece. he swears its easier than he allows it, but his body is different on days like these. days when he’s laying, tired and inaccessible to his usual bouts of energy. days like these, you can’t navigate around his lethargy, that comes slow and unmoving, similar to his resolve. his arms are around you, tight and interlocking further like a snake, his face buried against your stomach as he uses you as a stationary pillow. and you try to remind him that there are things you need to resume, things you need to conduct on the going merry, but when you turn to move, excuse yourself, he tightens, and his nose brushes against the sensitive skin beneath your button up in a nimble attempt to get you to stay still. “mmm… five—no, ten more minutes… i promise.”

nami — rests her head in the crook of your neck

it’s not an easy job sorting the day’s itinerary into tidy, little boxes and shelves, whilst the boat rocks to a cathartic beat around you. nami is here, to help you, but you are unable to shake off the tension wearing you down. your skin feels like paper and the bottom side of your shoes are sticky with sea water and your hands feel like rubber. you could rival luffy. it makes you feel awful, gets you hot and antsy so quickly, that nami blinks twice. of course, you apologise. you always have. but nami gets the directive before you do, and she reaches forward to hug you close to her chest. her nose tickles your neck and the space is living with her breath — the crook of your neck. “how about we stay like this for a bit, hm?” it’s more for your own means to find ground amongst your frustrations, to help you calm down, but nami has always loved being close to you. she always has.

usopp — holds you close to protect you

the great captain usopp. mighty warrior of the sea. well, not the great when the sea is colliding into rows of wood at maximum speed, which rocks the entire great vessel. you try to be less of a deterrence, try to find your own standing in the room you’re in with usopp, but your body is thrown across the room in one fell swoop, where you meet halfway into usopp’s chest. there’s a messy string of syllables that leave your lips, a creaky apology as you try to maintain some space between you (for the sake of your enervated heart), but he’s quicker. an ability derived from his sharp-shooter skills, you’re sure. his arm wraps around your waist and he allows you to crowd his chest. allows you to hold him like a pillar against the raging sea when it sends a rather alarming rock to the ship. “hold on tight — you’ve got nothing to worry about with captain usopp here. you hear?”

© 2023 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece imagine #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x yn #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x yn #nami x reader #nami x you #nami x yn #usopp x reader #usopp x you #usopp x yn #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy x yn

[koishua]

★. 𝐄𝐍— and the orange peel theory.

! © 𝗞𝗢𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗨𝗔 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰, 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗩𝗘𝗗.

starring hee, jay, jake. + their version of the orange peel theory

━━━━━━━━━━━ 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

he doesn't think anything of it when he snaps your chopsticks in two for you from where he is positioned across you. the plastic chairs in front of the convenience store upon which you're seated on aren't the most comfortable, the sharp edges digging into your skin on occasions when you fidget around trying to find a way to strike up a conversation with the man you can't bare to label as your friend now.

the bamboo sticks now rest on top of the lid of your bowl of instant ramen, currently waiting to be fully cooked within the three minute time frame the instructions had given you. you notice how they hadn't split equally, one having snapped away a small portion of the other side with it. the irony of it all feels comical when you detach yourself from the situation you're currently trying not to run away from.

heeseung doesn't say much as you hesitantly take the broken utensil. he can only pretend to awkwardly observe the engravings in the table, occasionally glancing at the dainty chain of the necklace hiding under your collar. it had been his fingers to graze against the skin of your neck to clasp it together for you. he wonders what hurts more; remembering, or having to force himself to forget about it all?

━━━━━━━━━━━ 𝐉𝐀𝐘

the house is quiet, had been for hours now, except for your frantic breaths and hurried stomps while darting from room to room, trying to find your bearings as the time ticks by much too quickly for your liking. the alarms you'd set for your lecture hadn't rung (they had, actually— no one would dare to disagree, however), which had naturally resulted in you running late for it yet again.

your lips lift lopsidedly moments after the neatly framed picture of the happiest moment of your life catches your eye as you try to put on the stubborn socks you'd fished out from the drawer on your side of the bed. jay had always been beautiful, even back when he still had that boyish smirk constantly plastered over his face, hair a mess.

you make a mental note to wipe away the dust that had started to form a thin sheet over the wooden frame, though that too is quickly forgotten when you realize that he'd very kindly filled up your bottle with water and placed it next to the most comfortable shoes you owned he'd laid nearly on the floor by the door, certain of your forgetful habits.

━━━━━━━━━━━ 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

layla's tail wags excitedly at the sight of the treat in your hands that you leave for her to enjoy. smoothing over the gingham sheet before laying back on the lap of your favourite person in this universe and the next, from where you look up at him, the sun blazing in the sky makes it look like he's emitting a heavenly glow. fitting for someone like sim jake.

days like this don't come by often for either of you, so having you right by him, the weather as beautiful as it could ever get. this is what he'd describe heaven to feel like. every part of his body beats with the insatiable desire to always have you as close to him as possible, day and night.

the cool breeze is a constant visitor to your little spot by the beach, a welcome addition to the already magical day. realising that he'd gotten lost in his thoughts, he looks down at your serene expression, off somewhere in dreamland, most likely. his thumb gently traces under your eyes, a ghostly touch afraid of waking you up from your deserved rest. he unclips the hair accessories he can see tugging and digging into your skin before adjusting the shade to cover your eyes.

this is his dreamland.

notes from vie: couldn't help it with the hee angst y'all im sorry it's a koishua must. it was very mild tho so yeah enjoy please i haven't exercised my enha writing skills in ages and as always pls reblog muah muah ignore any errors i haven't got the energy to correct them myself 🍊🍊

#enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung fluff #jake imagines #jake fluff #jay imagines #jay fluff #jay x reader #heeseung x reader #jake x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen headcanons

[earlgreyflowers]

Ok but we NEED a prequel public sex with Oscar, maybe the first time Logan watched/joined in?

A/N I was in the middle of writing a Carlos fic that will be coming soon but I wanted to give you guys some Oscar content again so here you go

--------------------------------------------------------

You always loved coming in with Oscar on Prema shoot days, a permanent smile on your face watching him interact with his teammates; Fred and Logan. The two had welcomed you with open arms the first time Oscar introduced you, with you and Logan sparking a quick friendship.

There was something inherently sweet about the American, always taking time to ask how you were doing and get to know you. Oscar loved seeing your friendship blossom, happy that there was someone to keep you company when he was busy in front of the camera.

Today you sat behind the camera, watching as the threesome film a blindfolded eating challenge for the Prema YouTube channel. The striking red of the team practically burned your eyes but the boys looked so cute in their team kit, especially Oscar. You had to stifle a laugh each time Oscar got frustrated when the boys weren't guessing the items correctly, his face an absolute picture.

Part of you loved coming here to see the contrast between the Oscar everyone else knows and the Oscar that's reserved for you. This version of your boyfriend was lovable and hilarious, awkward in an endearing way. Whilst that is the version of Oscar that drew you in, you couldn't deny that the other side of Oscar is the one that got you hooked. The Oscar you knew now, the one who practically folded you in half whilst he pounded into you at night, was your dirty little secret.

Even now, when he glanced over at you, innocent smile on his lips, you could see the naughty glint in his eyes as they traveled over your body. You'd worn a skirt today, planning on convincing Oscar to sneak away for a quickie somewhere, but in this moment you were regretting it. Oscar's thirsty look had your thighs clenching together, a movement he couldn't miss. He was thankful his two friends were blindfolded, unable to see the way he was practically drooling over you.

Oscar was snapped back into reality by Logan's guess at the food stuff, bursting out laughing at how wrong he was.

When filming had wrapped up, you found yourself sat opposite Logan in the Prema canteen. "I don't know what happened to your taste buds Logan but you were awful at that challenge." You tell him, giggling when he glares daggers at you.

"I was not," the American replies, "They just gave us really hard foods. Honestly, give me a good burger and I'd be able to explain it perfectly, you just watch." Logan defends, barely able to make it through his claims with a straight face.

Oscar joins the pair of you, slipping a drink in front of you as his now free hand glides over your exposed thigh. Your legs squeeze together, the hitch in your breath masked as you take a sip of your drink. “What are you guys talking about?” Oscar asks.

“Y/N thinks there’s something wrong with my mouth.” Logan laughs as you fight to keep your legs open under the table. Oscar smirks, “Maybe we should ask that girl from the other day.”

Your eyes widen at his statement, gently hitting him on the arm as Logan blushes. “Oscar man, no need to expose me like that in front of a lady.” He stammers, avoiding eye contact. Oscar chuckles, “Trust me, Y/N doesn’t mind, the two of us heard everything anyway.” You can’t help but giggle as Logan fights back a smile.

“I hate you guys.” He laughs, before pulling out his phone and leaving the two of you to your own private conversation. Oscar’s rough hand is a welcome addition to your thigh, sending goosebumps over your skin with each stroke of his thumb.

He leans in to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before dropping his mouth to your ear. “Did you wear a skirt on purpose today sweetheart? Did you have a dirty little plan in mind this morning?” He questions, the teasing tone to his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You shake your head, glancing over at Logan and hoping he can’t see the blush rising to your cheeks. Oscar hums in your ear, clearly disagreeing with you.

“Now I don’t think that’s true, I think you wanted me to be able to touch you whenever I want today. To slip my fingers under that little skirt and play with your pussy, I bet you’re wet already aren’t you?” He whispers. You bite your lip in response to conceal a whimper, his thumb gliding against the fabric of your dampening underwear.

Your toes curl in your shoes at the sensation, hand squeezing into a fist around your phone as Oscar slips your underwear to the side. To anyone watching it looks as though Oscar is resting his head on your shoulder, interested in whatever’s on your screen.

In reality he’s swiping his thick fingers through the growing wetness pooling between your legs. His slick fingers circle your clit and your stomach clenches as you barely conceal a moan. Logan glances up briefly at the small sound but furrows his eyebrows in confusion when it seemed you and Oscar hadn’t noticed. He shakes his head before returning to scrolling through Instagram.

Oscar smirks as he watches his friend return to his activities, one of his digits now slipping inside your pussy ever so slowly. “I bet you’d just love it if he noticed, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” Oscar whispers, lips grazing your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek in disguise. “Absolutely dripping for me, or are you soaked for him? Huh? Do you want Logan to know what a dirty little slut you are?” He continues.

You barely contain your whine, teeth digging into your lip so hard you're certain you'll break the skin soon. Oscar’s finger slides in and out of your pussy, your cheeks heating up as the very faint sound of your juices reaches your ears. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the smirk spreading across Oscar’s face, proud of himself for getting his girlfriend in this state.

He curls his fingers, applying to pressure to that one spot that makes your eyes roll. In an attempt to not react that, your body forces a new reaction, a knee jerk reaction that causes your leg to slam into Logan's own leg underneath the table. His head shoots up at the pain, eyebrows scrunched, "What the hell was that for Y/N?" He practically hisses.

"I'm sorry," You stutter out, Oscar's fingers still not stopping their motions. "I, uh, I didn't mean-" Before you can finish your sentence, a brush of Oscar's hand against your clit sends you spiraling over the edge. Your orgasm washes over you, your eyes screwing shut as you slam your hand over your mouth. Oscar continues to watch you, ignoring Logan's wide eyed stare.

You keep your stare to the ground, unable to look at Logan across the table. Oscar's other hand lifts your chin up to face him, "It's okay baby, you did great, Logan won't judge you. I promise." He whispers gently, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. Your eyes slowly travel over to meet Logan's, a clouded look of lust taking over his pupils. "

"Did what I think just happened, just happen?" He murmurs, swallowing thickly as he awaits the answer. You nod shyly, a prickly heat coating your cheeks as you blush. Logan's tongue peeks out to lick his lips, now hyper aware of just how dry his mouth is.

"Can I see more?" He asks, turning to look at Oscar. The Australian sits there smugly, looking at you to see if you have any qualms. When he sees nothing but excitement in your eyes, he returns his gaze to Logan.

"Meet us in our hotel room tonight, I'll text you the room number." Oscar tells him, before standing from the table and extending an arm to allow you to join him. The pair of you walk away, not sparing a glance back at Logan, who remains seated at the table under he truly grasps what he just witnessed.

"Holy shit." He mutters to himself, squeezing himself in his trousers before rushing off to his room to resolve his new problem.

#f1 smut #formula one smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #smut prompts #smut requests #smut writing #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 smut #op81 #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #loscar #ls2 #ls2 x reader #logan sargeant smut #logan sargeant x reader smut #ls2 smut

[taylorswiftstyle]

2024 Golden Globe Awards | Los Angeles, CA | January 7, 2024

Gucci gown

Let it be known my Roman Empire is painted a shade of aurora borealis green. 

I’m biased. I love it. You’re buckling up for a rave. But everyone knew that, right? 

I want it on record that no one should be surprised when they see this lewk on the TSS Favourite Outfits of 2024 list. And that I’ll devise some maniacal strategy to make it make sense to include in every annual list from here to eternity.

Let's get the obvious out of the way in that this shade of green could easily be interpreted as very snakelike and thus a nod to reputation and its forthcoming re-recorded version. I'd even happily apply it to the teal-y and springlike green of debut if we want to go debutation on this.

But if we are to talk about Gucci we have to talk about the precipice the house is upon right now. As it relates to Taylor, I suspect her dress (specific shade TBD - Chartreuse? Apple? Pear? Some other adjacent fruit that’s a feast for my eyes?) is a preview of Fall 2024 and a clear indicator of the path the new creative director Sabato De Sarno’s will take the brand in. Which is to say, muting the eccentricity of Alessandro Michele’s era of Gucci that brought the brand to a new level of renown in favour of something cleaner and sexier. Nicole Phelps for Vogue already noted that De Sarno’s first collection for Gucci — Spring 2024’s Ancora, meaning ‘again’ in English and released in September — evokes a Gucci when Tom Ford was once at the helm, praising De Sarno’s approach to “the upfront sex appeal of those ’60s-by-way-of-the-’90s shapes, and straight riffs on Ford hits” while “establish[ing De Sarno’s] essentials, focusing on cut and proportion, and repeating shapes for emphasis.”

Indeed, Taylor’s gown is directly reminiscent of a Fall 2004 look from Ford’s Gucci - all green sparkles and sexy disco energy. This makes sense when we consider De Sarno’s history and homeworking when he decided to take the creative director post. He told WWD, “Gucci to me equals luxury … the first fashion piece I ever owned was a Gucci jacket by Tom Ford. I still remember I traveled to Rome to buy it with my friend … luxury was really not part of our world. Television was the only way to see fashion for me back then.” He added, “My ambition is to build an aesthetic message with an edited collection that is mindful of Gucci’s heritage and close to my own aesthetics.”

When we consider my personal history with Taylor and Gucci, I don’t have to look very far to immediately picture one of my all time favourite Taylor looks — the 2014 Grammys when she wore a sparkling Gucci Première column gown which is not too dissimilar to this one. What can I say, I’m consistent. The shape, the perfect kiss-the-floor hemming, and obviously the divine colour that really pops on Taylor will have me swooning for a long time. 

At the end of it all, what I come back to is De Sarno’s sentimentality to naming his first collection: Ancora. Again. He told WWD, “Ancora is a word that you use when your desire is not over yet … I want to fall in love with fashion all over again — ancora.” In the same interview he said, “I like words a lot, they have weight and a precise meaning, they convey emotions, so I like artists who use words.” 

It dawns on me that Taylor’s light is shining at its brightest now as she highlights, celebrates, and - indeed - falls in love with all the versions of herself she has ever been. Revisiting her eras past again. And again. In every re-record. In every step she takes on stage. In every cutting line she writes in ruminating and revisiting the experiences of her life and translating them into song. She’s flitting, flirting, memorializing all her past selves in celebration of their summation of her current self. And that’s what this ‘era of eras’ has been. 

So if this is De Sarno’s Gucci I say welcome. Ancora. 

Photos by Monica Schipper/GA and Amy Sussman via Getty Images

#taylor swift #award #dress #gucci #january 2024

[lunarmoves]

Welcome to version 1.1 of FazPals, your very own virtual desktop friend based on the hit characters from Fazbear Entertainment's Mega Pizzaplex! They are able to walk, talk, joke, sing, adapt, and play games! FazPals are like no other with their innovative adaptive technology! You'll learn from them as they learn from you!

don't worry, everything is completely normal :)

-> an au based on the game KinitoPET! and yes, i'm writing a fic for it LOL. i'll draw moon after i get the first chapter out dsfhsd.

edit: here’s the link to the masterlist

#dca #fazpals au #felt like boo boo the fool making the gif LMFAOO #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendent #fnaf sun #fnaf sundrop #sundrop #dca au #dca fandom #daycare attendant sun #fnaf dca #the daycare attendant #shay draws smthn #dca fanart #dcau #tw bright colors #tw glitch #tw eyestrain #<- just in case #through pixel eyes #through pixel eyes art

[knitmeapony]

If you are interested in a very practical, hands-on job that does a lot of good for a lot of people, no matter what age you are, whether you're looking for your first career or a new one, please consider becoming a city code official.

Code officials are the folks that work with governments to keep an eye on new and existing construction and make sure that it stays safe and accessible.

It's a good job making good money, and there are a number of places that you can get your certifications. It's also one of those practical Building Trades that always needs people, and if you're a little bit flexible about where you're going to work there are literally hundreds of job openings out there right now.

And from a long-term perspective, once you are a code official you can volunteer with / work with some of the national and International organizations that put together model codes. Model codes are books published by non-governmental organizations so that smaller cities and municipalities and really any government organization that doesn't have the budget to write its own building code from scratch can simply adopt a version of the model codes. The companies that put out model codes generally speaking have open processes that let anyone in the industry come in and help change the codes.

I work at one of those companies. We have trans activists coming in making sure that gendered bathrooms don't become law in a bunch of places. We have disability rights activists coming into push our codes past the what is required for the ADA, and into more modern, more complete accessibility rules. In both cases, these folks are minority and have to work with all the other code officials to show them why they're suggested changes are the right way to go. Anyone can submit changes and come in and speak, but if you are a professional code official currently working for a city or state that uses our codes, you get a vote on how we change things. Three to four hundred individuals vote on many of these suggested changes to the codes. That means the small number of determined people can likely genuinely move the needle in terms of what we discuss and what we implement.

It is construction, so not every work site is going to be welcoming, but I have been pleasantly surprised by how many folks in the industry are genuinely don't give a damn about anything but whether or not you can get the job done.

[endemise]

DEMO

→ Latest Update: Prologue — 3 February 2024

17+ The Fall of House Black — A gothic, supernatural, mystery interactive fiction story. Lightly inspired by The Fall of the House of Usher and Frankenstein media. (Work in Progress)

Synopsis has mentions of death and suicide. See extended content warnings below.

The fall of House Black, your house, was an imminent thing. A name had never been so cursed that all it could do was bring about death.

First, your younger sister in a swimming accident, then your older brother in a case of mistaken identity. As the rest of your family sought to grieve and bring justice to your brother, your older sister was killed in a hunting accident at the end of your father’s bow.

The three of you, mother, father, and child, became inconsolable. Broken beyond repair. Your mother unable to bear the weight of life any longer took her own while your father disappeared, gone into the night. When you remain the sole survivor of House Black, you know you must leave, and on the night of your decision, your home goes up in flames with you inside.

Then, you awake, dazed with no recollection of anything, and when you look down at your body, you scream. It is wrong. So wrong.

Play as a reanimated, customizable character.

Learn how to be a person again.

Try to survive in a society that fears the unknown.

Develop relationships. (4 ROs: All gender-selectable + 1 secret RO)

Aid in the investigation of your family’s untimely deaths.

Learn about your family’s curse.

Aesop/Almira Hammond | Detective | 36 Years Old | RO

[Profile] [Portrait]

A is an observant and clever person, stoic in nature. They put their all into their work, striving to find the truth in every case. They take on the case of your family’s sudden deaths despite pushback from others. It was an occurrence of events all too strange, and they are determined to figure it out.

Cyprian/Cecilia Atterton | Writer | 28 Years Old | RO

[Profile] [Portrait]

C is an imaginative and creative person, quiet in nature. They write not only from their own experiences, but the experiences of others as well. They are interviewing people about House Black, intending on writing a book about your family’s ill fate and eventual demise.

Sebastian/Sabina Farwell | Doctor | 34 Years Old | RO

[Profile] [Portrait]

S is an intelligent and kind person, caring in nature. They are a most trusted doctor, hardworking and honest. They were the young doctor that tried to help your father and sister. They helped without question, never calling your family cursed as you so often were.

Elias/Elosia Osborne | Coroner | 30 Years Old | RO

[Profile] [Portrait]

E is an empathetic and hardworking person, cheerful in nature. They put their heart into their work, aiming to bring closure to people as swiftly as possible. They are the one who investigated and confirmed the death of your elder sister. They never could for you though.

Unknown | ??? | ??? | RO

A secret. Who knows when they will appear.

SUBJECT TO CHANGE

Mentions of death, child death, suicide, violence, blood, injury, burning alive, body horror, mutilation, slight gore, amnesia

asks are welcomed!

DISCLAIMER

this is a demo/work in progress. everything is subject to change until the final version. it is by no means a finished or polished work.

LINKS

→ demo | same one, just another link

→ itch.io | my creator page

→ @ethersic | my main, art, etc. blog

INFO

word count w/o code: 6.3k

next update: tbd

written with twine (tweego)/sugarcube

#interactive fiction #the fall of house black #the fall of house black if #tfohb if #itch.io #interact-if #twine #twine game #twine if #twine wip #if wip #if: intro #if: the fall of house black #tfohb: intro #✻ — announcement

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Hi! For the bingo: Daemon Targaryen & courting?

Mirror (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Warnings: Targaryen reader. Mature situations. Mature language. A bit of angst, incest, and innocence kink.

Summary: Courting. Daemon’s version.

A/N: Everyone who writes Daemon fics has tackled this trope. I missed oneshots so bad.

There was little King Viserys wouldn’t do for his lovely daughters. During your childhood, there were two of everything. Two Septas, two dolls, two play daggers. For as long as you have been alive, there have been efforts made to make things fair.

No doubt, it was the legacy of your mother. Your father was nice enough, but you doubted he had the foresight to try to avoid sibling rivalry. Queen Aemma’s influence had been greatly missed after her passing.

It had been then when the problems between you and Rhaenyra had started. Your relationship had gotten even more rocky when she was named heir. The situation had turned so bad, even your father had noticed. And just as if it were one of his models, he had demanded perfect symmetry in all aspects.

The same rooms. Same number of servants. Same number of dresses you were allowed to own. An even split of your mother’s jewels.

Unfortunately, there were things not even King Viserys could fix. This was one of them, you thought, as you sat on one of the rails of the dragon pit.

Daemon and Rhaenyra race on their dragons in the open sky right above you. They shriek in laughter and shout things in High Valyrian. You are not sure which you resent more. Rhaenyra, for dragging you along with the promise of tending to Syrax or Daemon for interrupting your time with your sister.

It seemed as if all you did was fight now. The occasion where you did not was rare, and so, intrusion on it was not welcome. But at the same time, you can’t help but wonder if Rhaenyra is playing a cruel trick on you, dragging you here so you can see what you are missing.

Despite your best attempts at keeping yourself calm, you can’t help but feel rage bubble up in your throat. Rage, and a deep sense of failure. You had heard even Laena Velaryon, younger than you, had managed to claim a dragon. Was this why your father had chosen Rhaenyra to be heir and not you?

It felt cruel, and hurtful. Not only did your uncle always pay more attention to Rhaenyra, but now you had to watch them do things you couldn’t do. Go where you couldn’t follow, and made you watch them go.

They dismount a few feet away from you. With them, comes all the hassle and fretting of the dragon keepers. Caraxes always takes a long time to settle after going flying, and so, you relax in your seat. You hope enough time might go by, they forget about your existence and you can slip out unnoticed. It would save you the embarrassment of having to hear them flirt and tell you everything as if you were a child.

No luck for you today, though. You smell it before you see it. Sweat, leather and the unmistakable stink of dragon. Your nose scrunches up, and you jump off the railing just in time to avoid your uncle’s ruffling of your hair.

Rhaenyra snickers a little. Despite the dragon ride, she looks as royal and regal as ever. It’s a feat you admire and despise greatly.

“Trying to sneak up on me?” You frown. You don’t need any further embarrassing. Being startled and falling into the mud would have been just the cherry on top.

Daemon ignores you, tugging on your braid.

“No dragon yet?”

“No.” Your answer it’s harsh, and perhaps a bit rude, but this feels as if they are targedly mocking you. Daemon raises his eyebrows, looking on the edge of apologizing, if such a thing it’s even possible for him. Rhaenyra, more used to your moods, just rolls her eyes.

“Let her be, Kepa.” She whispers, as if you are not there. “She is always like this.”

“Pouty?” Daemon tilts your chin up with two fingers. You jerk your head away, glaring daggers at him.

“Bitter.” Rhaenyra speaks, and you glare at her instead. You do not understand why she is so mean, lately. Her being named heir has not done anything good for your relationship, but you had tried your best to play nice. She didn’t seem to care.

“I can hear both of you.” You complain, but they just laugh. Angrily, you stomp off.

You feel too jittery to go back to your chambers. It would make you more angry, if you were to go inside the castle so soon. It’s too pleasant of a day to be spent cooped up at the Red Keep. Too preoccupied with your thoughts, you don’t notice someone is following you.

Your feet lead you to the training yard. It makes sense, in a way. This is where you have been coming the past few months when the castle got too small to house both you and Rhaenyra.

Early in the morning as it is, the yard is empty. Save for your sworn shield, of course. While Rhaenyra had gotten Ser Criston Cole, handsome and dornish, you had gotten Ser Harwin Strong. Riverlander, just as handsome and with a clear infatuation with your sister.

But kind. Unbearably so.

“I figured your meeting with the Princess would not go as planned.” He explains, as he helps you out of your cloak and jewelry. Ser Harwin helps you put on some protective gear before handing you a wooden sword.

He has been teaching you swordplay for the past few months. Not so much for self-defense, but as a way to curb your more violent impulses. When you feel like you might throttle Rhaenyra or perhaps smother her with a pillow, you come to him.

It's good. You have not learned a lot, but there is something utterly satisfying about hitting someone as hard as you can. With wooden swords and against Ser Harwin, you know there is no real possibility of hurting him. He is much taller and stronger than you.

There is also something satisfying about blocking his blows, too. In the smacking sound, in the effort it takes. You understand why men enjoy battle so much, finally. When you walk away, you are always sore and bruised, but your mind is finally quiet.

“I have just resigned myself to an arranged marriage.” You say to Ser Harwin, as you block his sword with great effort. “All the men in the court are panting after her, it’s no use.”

And you do think you are on the right, this time. Too often, you feel overshadowed by her, and seeing your uncle and Ser Harwin on the same day just confirms it. You have no chance at finding true love, not when every man here only has eyes for her.

You didn’t necessarily were a romantic person, but a bit of attention would be nice. Feeling desired and admired in the way Rhaenyra was. They even called her the Realm’s delight, for Gods’s sake.

“Are they after her? Or her tittle?” Ser Harwin tries to disarm you. You hit harder, a low blow aimed to his ribs that he avoids with little effort.

“You tell me.” You pant, a little out of breath. It was something you frequently wondered yourself, but never about him. Ser Harwin clearly wasn’t hoping to be King. What he wanted was something much more carnal. You had seen the way his eyes trailed Rhaenyra’s figure when they were together in a room. He appreciated her personality, perhaps, but he clearly wanted to bed her.

You loved teasing him about it. For such a big man, he could sure get sheepish.

“Fair.” Ser Harwin chuckled, raising his wooden sword again. You liked that he was very good-humored. He didn't mind your teasing. “But think of the bright side. If someone is after you, they are really after you.”

You frowned. He had a point, you supposed. If a man were about to pursue you, it might be because you are a Targaryen, or because of your valyrian looks. But never because of the Iron Throne. With baby Aegon existence, you are certain that whatever your place in the succession line is, plenty of people would have to die for you to even have a weak claim to it.

“Wise words for one so young.” The voice startles both of you. As if you were children caught with their hands in the cookie jar, you freeze. Ser Harwin even drops his wooden sword. “You should heed your knight, niece.”

“Uncle.” You answer, casually. You know Daemon. If he senses weakness, he is going to pounce. While Ser Harwin has given away already that you are not exactly doing something your father approves off, you are not going to have your Uncle thinking he has something to blackmail you with.

Daemon ignores you, choosing to attack the weak link. He tuts at Harwin.

“Poor form. And a poor trainer. Leave us.”

Harwin hesitates. He is not supposed to leave you alone and unprotected. Much less, with your uncle. Daemon it’s not known for his trustworthiness.

“With all due respect, Prince Daemon, I am not allowed…”

“Leave us, boy.” Daemon’s tone turns harsher. Channeling all the authority he has as a Prince. Now, your sworn shield can’t refuse. It’s an order, not a suggestion. But Harwin remains where he is, looking to you for approval.

Your uncle’s eyes flash dangerously at the defiance. You look at Harwin and nod. He leaves.

You twirl your wooden sword. Daemon smirks.

“Commendable.” He gives a slow clap. “Very loyal guard dog, you have there.”

“You could learn a thing or two.” You answer, vicious. The human equivalent of an animal biting down and refusing to release its jaws. By the brief look of hurt on his face, you have touched a nerve.

But soon, his expression smooths down into a vicious little smile, to match yours.

“So this is where you have been disappearing to.”

“So?” You ask, all nonchalance.

“Feisty.” Your uncle kicks Harwin’s discarded wooden sword away and unsheathes his. Whatever this is, it’s long overdone, you realize. You are bouncing with pent-up anger and frustration.

Daemon strikes at you, hard. The flat side of his sword hits your ribs. It hurts even with the protections Harwin makes you wear, a dull sting on your torso.

“If this was a real fight, you would be dead.” His tone is smug. You cannot take it, and so, bang your wooden sword against his hip.

“And you would be unable to walk.”

Your uncle laughs, coldly. He is angry too, you realize. In that messy way he gets, sometimes. Teeth bared in a cocky grin, still high on the thrill of riding Caraxes and chasing Rhaenyra.

Despite your best attempts, you are no match for him. He is a seasoned warrior. He has been at war for the last couple of years. No amount of anger can match his technique. Soon, he has you disarmed and cornered, Dark Sister at your throat.

“Not bad. I might even bruise.” His tone drips condescension, but there is something odd going on in his face. His pupils are blown, his chest is heaving, and there is no way it’s with exertion. While you were panting and begging for a respite, Daemon hadn’t even worked up a sweat. “You need a real sword.”

“Perhaps. But then Rhaenyra gets one, and this is only mine.” It’s more honest than you would like, but you are still trying to decipherate what exactly he is feeling. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes glassy. You feel confused.

“Is that why you want a husband? To have someone only yours?” Daemon suddenly is much closer, twirling the end of your braid between his fingers.

You scoff, and push him away.

“That’s none of your concern.”

You storm inside the Red Keep, scowling. Finally, it seemed, Daemon and Rhaenyra had managed to run you off the castle’s grounds.

The encounter is barely given a second thought. You decide to keep yourself busy for the rest of Daemon’s visit to King’s Landing. Knowing him, he is due to get exiled soon. There is no point in worrying about it.

You fill up your days with activities, be it harassing some tutors, your Septa, or even visiting orphaned children in King’s Landing. That activity is one you and Ser Harwin particularly enjoy. It fills you with joy when you get to run around and play in the mud with your stern guard having no choice but to tag along. You have even caught him smiling when little girls ask to braid his hair.

Things are surprisingly calm. You would have expected your uncle to be involved in a scandal by now. Yet, there are no rumors of him bedding three whores in one sitting, nor there is an irate Otto Hightower asking your father to send him away.

Until one night, you find a jeweled sword resting on your bed. It’s small, but you can tell from the sharpness of the blade that it is made from Valyrian steel. You start training with it the next day, getting used to its weight. If Ser Harwin thinks anything of your sudden interest in doing more than hitting him, he doesn’t show it.

You are not surprised to find your Uncle waiting for you after your morning practice. At first glance, the courtyard is as empty as when you began your training. Despite it, you can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching.

Just as you are entering the Red Keep, sweaty and ready for a bath, Daemon steps out from the shadows.

“You look so grown up in riding attire.” He says, from beneath some trees. “Almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Almost didn’t recognize you, either. No scandal in nearly a month?” You start to loosen your braid, accelerating the process of getting into your bath as you walk. There is nothing you want more than to just soak in hot water and let the warmth wash away your soreness. “You must be getting old.”

“Youthfulness is in the spirit.” Daemons hurries to reach you, falling into step right beside you. You resist the urge to walk faster if only to see him struggle. Power play. Always. Push, and pull, and don’t let anyone else get the upper hand.

“Ah, that makes sense.” You slow down your steps because while you enjoy angering your uncle, you would rather not anger him too much. “You have the spirit of a child.”

“I’ll take that as the highest of compliments.” Daemon ruffles your hair, uncaring that’s matted in sweat. You make a face. “Did you like your gift?”

“Depends.” You give him a feral little grin. Your uncle looks at you, as if deciding whether he wants to bite or not. Knowing him as you do, you know he can’t stand the intrigue.

“On what?”

“How many of Rhaenyra’s necklaces you had to melt to get the sword.”

“That blade is worth at least five of her necklaces.” Daemon boasts. You give him an unimpressed look.

“Huh. Then I like it.”

“Not love it?”

“It wasn’t ten.” And with a cheeky grin, you are off towards your chambers.

You don’t see Daemon for a few days. You hear him, unfortunately. He is everywhere at once, yet never wherever you are. You know of him in the shape of rumors and hearsay.

When you go fetch yourself a tea tray in the kitchen, your uncle is in the middle of the servants. “I heard last night he was with four whores!” As you ask a maid about your sister’s whereabouts, he is her chosen companion. “Princess Rhaenyra went out to race your uncle, Princess.” And of course, when your father complains, Daemon is in the midst of it. “He insulted Otto and then walked out of the council meeting.”

Despite your wishes, your uncle starts to occupy more of your mind’s space than you would like. You keep wondering what he is up to, each rumor more outrageous than the last. You cannot help but wonder if it’s you who was prompted him to wreak such havoc. The idea of having such power over him, that an offhanded comment can cause such a reaction, makes something tingle in your stomach.

You find him next in the gardens. Alicent and Rhaenyra are fighting again, a nasty thing that soon turns into a screaming match. That's a dynamic you have stayed out of, since you had memory. While Alicent and Rhaenyra were friends, you never felt anything towards Alicent besides a slight sympathy. She seemed nice enough, but she was not your friend.

Rhaenyra and you loved in the same way, you see. Possessive, harsh. As Princesses, you never learned to share. You wanted your person to be only yours. Alicent was Rhenyra’s, and so, you stepped aside.

When she married your father, you weren’t exactly pleased. But you had the emotional detachment Rhenyra lacked, being too close to the situation. In time, you had come to understand that it wasn’t like she had a choice, either.

So, it wasn’t like you were going to break with tradition now. To avoid their screams, you had decided to pace the gardens. Daemon seemed to have the same idea because you find him sitting on a bench with a book in his hands.

“Came to join me?” He asks, voice smooth like honey.

“Rather to escape the screeching.” You sit by his side, curiously peering at the book he holds.

“A Cautionary Tale For Young Girls.” Daemon’s smirk is the only thing that gives him away, that, and the fact that the book is written in High Valyrian. “Most illuminating read. You should try it.”

You laugh, despite yourself. His lips twitch into a more genuine smile, less full of smugness and bravado.

“I was getting lonely.” You say, softly. The admission surprises even you. “You are with Rhaenyra all the time.”

Don’t go where I can’t follow, you wish to say. Don’t take her from me. My other half. But you don’t speak the words aloud, from fear of him repeating your confession. You don’t want to beg Rhaenyra for affection, not when you have been competing with her all your life.

Daemon makes a face, as if pained of what he will say next. He seems wary of hurting you. You wonder if that means he cares for you, in his own twisted way. It’s not often he worries about what others think.

“She has a dragon.” No matter how gentle the tone, it hurts anyway.

“I miss her. Not you.” But it’s a lie. You know it’s a bad pattern, and you shouldn’t miss him, but you are so used to competing for affection that Daemon has become both your rival and the one you crave. The weeks without him have been lonely and taxing. No matter if it was you who pushed him away and didn’t care to reach out after.

“I remember you two were close.” Something must change in your face because your uncle reaches toward you, gently squeezing your arm.

“We used to be. She is just… So angry, all the time. And has all these new people. Admires, prospects…” You feel like a fool. There is a deep sense of unfulfillment and being wronged yet at the same time, you know you are being unreasonable. This was always going to happen. You can’t share the Iron Throne, and she has always been your father’s favorite. Rhaenyra was always going to be the heir.

“Which one am I?”

You shrug.

“It's not like I care.” But you do. You do care, despite your best sense. Because you want to be his favorite. You have always wanted to be someone’s favorite, but Daemon has a special brand of devotion for those he cares about. You wish you could be counted on that list, lately. By the smile on his face, Daemon can probably tell. “And it's not like before she didn't have things that were only hers.”

"I thought you shared everything.” Your uncle tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear. You lean into the touch, closing your eyes.

“She has Alicent. Had. Still does.” You know when the time comes, Alicent will be there for Rhaenyra. They are tied together by destiny in ways Rhaenyra and you are not.

“The curse of the younger brother.” With your eyes still closed, his hand gently brushing your hair back, the words do not feel as if they are being spoken aloud. The gardens around you feel muffled, distant. Perhaps it’s the soothing touch, or the deep pang of sadness in your chest, but you do not understand what Daemon means.

“I beg your pardon?” You open your eyes, giving him a confused expression. Not only is he muttering nonsense, your uncle is much closer to you than he was before. Daemon’s forehead is nearly pressed into yours, his thumb now gently rubbing across your jawline.

“Viserys and Rhaenyra are the same.” He explains, tracing your cheekbone next. As if he is keen to learn your face from touch alone, carve it on his mind. It makes you smile slightly. The pain from mourning your innocence is very much still there, but it doesn’t feel like it’s tearing you apart. “Just as you and I are the same.”

“I…” You are not sure of what to answer. Naturally, it makes sense. You can feel it in your bones, but you can’t quite articulate the thought.

Daemon’s thumb presses against your lips in a downward motion, closing them.

“We could fly off tonight. Go to the Free cities, marry. No one would care.” His tone is fervent, urgent. Pleading with you. You keep quiet, and so does he. The silence stretches between the two of you. Your mind races.

Just as your lips flutter behind his thumb to answer the proposal, your uncle speaks again.

“We are free, you and I. But the Iron Throne chains them.”

It’s then you realize it was not a proposition, but rather an explanation of the thoughts you were unable to articulate. And perhaps it’s the sting of rejection or the deep sadness that has taken root on you since the death of your mother, but you cannot keep the words in. They come flowing, tumbling, rushing out of your mouth.

“I want to be a girl forever.” You say to him, starting to tear up. “I am not ready to be a woman.”

You are scared, you realize. No longer are you a girl playing to be a woman, dressing up in your mother’s jewels and dresses. Five years down the line, you will be married. Ten, it will be you who is a mother.

Your uncle gathers you into his arms, painfully soft. You would have never believed Daemon capable of such a tender touch.

“You can’t be innocent forever.”

“Everything is so complicated now. I just… I don’t want anything to change.”

You whisper against his neck. It’s a doomed wish. You know already it’s too late for it. No longer are you an innocent, no longer anything is the same. It will never be.

“Not all changes are bad. There can be pleasure in losing one’s innocence.” Daemon kisses your temple. “And I intend to show it to you.”

That night, the two of you sneak out of the Red Keep.

“I wanted to give you something only yours.” Your uncle says, as he leads you down the Street of Silk. Both of you are wearing rough cloaks, for discretion. You cling to his arm, afraid of getting lost in between the strange sights and smells.

There is so much to see and so much to hear. People laughing in the streets, singing, drunkards and patrons from the brothels mixing. While you are familiar with the streets of King’s Landing, you have never seen them at night. It’s both frightening and exhilarating, watching the city come to life in ways new to you.

There are no children in sight, only adults. The message that Daemon hoped to convey by bringing you here is loud and clear. You are no longer a girl, you are a woman. And so, instead of sleeping soundly in your bed as you have done all your childhood, you get to enjoy the wonders of the night.

The crowd gets even more rowdy as you pass the bigger pleasure houses and walk towards the ones that are at the end of the street. Secluded as they are, they spark your curiosity.

“Where are we going?” You ask your uncle, tugging at his arm. “Inside one of those? Why?”

“They cater to tastes that the rest do not.” Daemon comes to a stop in front of one, and takes off his hood. The woman at the doors takes one look at his hair and quickly ushers you both inside a room.

The room is bare except for a couple of chairs and a bed. You examine everything closely, noting the inferior quality of the furniture. These are not the kinds of chairs you are used to, at the Red Keep. After a while, and only when you notice no one else is hiding inside, you lower your hood. Being overly cautious never hurt anyone, after all.

“What tastes?” You squeeze Daemon’s hand. He gives you a puzzled look. “You said they cater to tastes…”

“You will see.” You are saved from the wait to know what he means by the door opening. Two servants, dressed in little clothing, step inside. Men, near your age. They are completely unique, yet similar. You get the feeling they are not simple servants, even though they serve you and Daemon goblets of wine.

You stare. You do not understand why they are not leaving.

Your uncle steps behind you, to whisper in your ear. His arms circle around your waist.

“Look at them.” He presses a chaste kiss just behind your ear. “Really look.”

So you do. One of the men is tall and strong. Almost wide. All bulging muscles. He has dark hair and light colored eyes. The other man is slightly slender, yet strong either way. He has lighter hair and a much sweeter face. They are both handsome, yet you do not understand what game Daemon could be playing.

“You wanted something only yours.” He mutters, kissing the crown of your head. He perches his chin on top of it. “Most girls, they don’t get to choose whom they lose their innocence to.”

It dawns on you then. He wants you to choose one of the men to… Well. It’s a nice thing to do, but so undeniably Daemon it hurts.

Feeling mischievous, you turn around in his grip.

“And I can choose any of the men in this room?” You smirk. Your uncle’s brows draw together, in disbelief.

“That’s the point, yes.” Daemon speaks slowly, as if explaining to someone particularly daft. Or innocent. “I’ll pay for it, don’t worry.”

“Good.” You smirk, and kiss him. You feel him smirk right back against your mouth.

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon x oc #daemon x y/n #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen smut #daemon smut #daemon fanfic #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen fluff

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Movie Night

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Eddie bails on your weekly movie night to go be with Chrissy. So you make plans with Steve OR Two jealous idiots in love :/

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: Angst/unrequited feelings at first. Jealous!Eddie. Steve's a good friend. Fluff. Bad jokes.

A/n: Been trying to write this one for a bit. I might do a version of this where the reader chooses Steve instead, if there's any interest for it. Thanks as always for reading! Love to hear your thoughts <3

--

“Yeah, I’m heading to the diner tonight. With Chrissy.”

Sometimes, when you thought about your future, you’d imagine a lifetime of laughing side-by-side with Eddie. Imagine his hand clasped in yours, his body an anchor holding you to this place. Yet other times, like now, after he said those words, you feared you’d end up floating away alone.

You only barely caught his eyes on you after telling you the news, not that you were all that present anymore. Not when trying everything to focus on keeping your face neutral. Happy even, for him. 

“Oh, that’s nice,” you said, though your voice probably betrayed any facade you tried to put on. All you could do was look at the way shadows from the dipping sun dragged down his face. Maybe floating away into the golden sky wouldn’t be all that bad.

“So movie night next week, then?” you asked, unfocused eyes drifting over his shoulder and past him.

Your question came out as a precaution, a hope at normalcy to lighten the mood. Just in the entryway of Eddie’s apartment, snacks in hand for tonight’s canceled plans apparently, you were glad you hadn’t taken your shoes off yet. Inching toward the doorknob, you gave a small smile that cracked at the edges.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Eddie offered, and it only made you chew harder on the inside of your cheek, savor the pain of it. Your fingers found the handle’s metal, unsure of what to tell him. He hadn’t ever canceled movie night before, and now it’s for lovely Chrissy. 

She’d sort of joined the group, becoming better friends with Eddie after high school. And you were glad for it – truly, you were. You two had more in common than you’d expected, and she was nicer than anyone you’d ever talked to. So with the nausea of jealousy rising up your throat came bile tasting of guilt, a twisting feeling of shame for wishing she’d had any other plans than with Eddie, your Eddie.

Not that he knew your feelings toward him, which you usually kept tight under wraps. Until this. So you just said, “It’s fine, Eddie. I’ll see you around, ‘kay?” You didn’t wait for an answer or dare risk a glance at his face, just in case it looked happy. 

A rumbling sigh escaped your mouth as you trudged down the building’s stairwell, your feet heavy against the steps and begging to drag you deeper. Each creak accompanied the rustling of the cookies, chips, and more piled in your arms. 

Outside, the honeyed sun dipped through the sky’s thick wall of clouds. It brought a sprinkling of rain that seeped into you on the short walk home. Maybe out of necessity, but you welcomed the chill of the wind that carried goosebumps along your body. Let it freeze your skin, your pestering thoughts, your teary eyes.

Eddie could have other friends. He could spend time with other people. You knew that. And yet, he’d flaked on your plans with no warning. But he could be forgetful sometimes, and maybe they were just friends. And yet… a sharp feeling itched in your chest, one you couldn’t shake.

The back-and-forth plaguing your mind simmered to a dull annoyance as you entered your own place, dropping all the snacks on your counter. You let your hands fall by your sides as you debated finally taking off your shoes, staring at their fraying laces while deciding what to do tonight. The alluring voice of self-pitying called your name, telling you to find some trashy movie on TV or eat the food you should have been sharing with Eddie. 

Stuck standing there, still staring at your shoes as the world continued on outside, your body finally jolted as the phone rang. The shrill noise forced your muscles tight, but that paled in comparison to the jump your heart gave. A small part of you knew it came from the hope that Eddie had changed his mind and was calling to apologize. But you wouldn’t believe it. If you did, that might just hurt worse than anything he could say.

A swallow passed down your throat as you readied your voice, a tightness refusing to go away. Grabbing the receiver, you said, “Hello?”

“Ah, hey. It’s Steve.”

Oh.

“Hi, Steve,” you answered, feeling your fingers tighten around the phone as you forced out an even breath. It was fine. You were fine. This dumb crush couldn’t last forever.

“Just filling my employee duties to remind you to return Alien the next time you’re here. I called to leave a message on your machine though, thought you’d be at Eddie’s tonight.” 

Ouch. Guess tonight wasn’t the night that crush would end then. 

“Uh, yeah,” you breathed out. “He’s busy tonight apparently. So I’m just here. But yeah, of course, I can drop off the tape tomorrow.”

Maybe Steve heard the disappointment in your voice or just was bored and free like you, because he asked, “Oh, well I’m almost done here at Family Video if you wanna swing by. Haven’t had dinner yet if you’re hungry. We could head down to the diner.”

“No! No, I’m okay,” you rushed out, feeling a chill spark through your body and up your spine. You didn’t need to witness Eddie and Chrissy dining together tonight. 

Eyeing the snacks and your small TV, you debated whether to take him up on the offer. The weight of your unreturned feelings pulled at your tired mind, but maybe taking Steve’s offering hand could be a way back up.

Though he couldn’t see, you nodded as you shifted your weight back and forth. “But I’m okay going somewhere else. If you want.”

A small pause passed before he answered. “We could go to the theater. Been meaning to see that comedy… Spaceballs, I think.”

The smile beginning to spread across your face warmed your body, loosened the cold holding on tight to you. A stupid comedy with Steve’s terrible jokes sounded like a distraction you needed. “Sounds great. I’ll head to Family Video now.”

“Wait, stay there. It looks like it might rain. I’ll come pick you up,” he said, and you imagined his hand on his hip in that way he did.

“Okay,” you said. “See you soon.”

Trying not to dwell on thoughts of Eddie while waiting for the sound of Steve’s car, you paced back and forth through the room – shoes still on your feet. Eddie had his plans, you had yours. And that was okay. Right?

Rather than answering that question, you grabbed a handful from the pile of snacks and shoved them in your pocket before making your way to the front of the building. Maybe the universe was actually on your side because you didn’t wait long before spotting Steve’s car under the dark sky and dripping rain.

But as you jogged over and began to climb in, Steve shouted, “Ah! Wait, wait, wait!” He held out an arm before you could lean back against the seat, the car door still wide open.

“What? What is it, Harrington?” You asked through clenched teeth, your body growing colder by the second as drops continued to hit down your body.

He dug through the bag he brought to work, pulling out a jacket and handing it to you. “Here. Don’t need you freezing, or getting the seats soaked.”

Glaring at him, you knew the quickest way to get this over with was to wrap the jacket around your shoulders and shut the car door. Your fingers dug into the material, hoping to keep yourself from shivering. 

“I’m starting to think you care more about your car than… well, anyone,” you muttered with a joking smile, though you couldn’t be too upset with the soft heat rolling from the car’s vents.

Steve only offered a confirmatory hum before putting the car into drive, heading toward the theater through watery roads. The street lights turning on stretched and became fuzzy past the rain-soaked windshield.

Less than a minute passed of soft drumming on the car’s roof and the quiet radio before Steve asked the question you’d been hoping to avoid. “So, uh, if Eddie’s not at your weekly movie night, what’s he up to?”

Your head turned toward the window, resting back against the seat. A sigh loosened past your lips, slowly growing into flat words. “He’s with Chrissy.”

“Ah,” was all he said. He wasn’t a stranger to your feelings for Eddie – not that you had been brave enough to tell Steve yourself. Apparently, you weren’t as good at hiding them as you thought, and he finally confronted you after the whole group hung out. You’d been “staring at him like he was freaking Rob Lowe” as Steve had put it.

He’d told you that Eddie had done the same, and you’d wanted to believe it. You did for a short while. But holding onto that seemed to just make things hurt more when he brushed you off, so you let it go. Or at least tried to.

“They’re at the diner, huh?” Steve asked, one hand holding the wheel and one combing through his hair.

If you weren’t clenching your jaw to keep from emotion rising up your throat, you might’ve laughed and cursed him for always seeing through you. But you just nodded instead, pressing your mouth tight.

Steve shrugged, giving you a sympathetic sideways look. “I know you’re gonna huff or sigh at me, but I still think you should tell him… Can’t blame him for not knowing, since both of you are equally oblivious.”

And you did sigh at that, knowing he was right. “Yeah…” Crossing your arms, you stared out the window at the world passing by until he spoke up again.

“Either way, screw ‘em. They’re missing out on Spaceballs and incredible company,” he offered, leaving no room for disagreement.

That got you to crack a growing smile again. “Are you talking about me or yourself?” you laughed out.

“That depends on who makes the funniest joke during the movie, so start preparing.”

Your brain automatically went to what kinds of jokes Eddie would make during the movie, his mouth barely shutting before making some comment that left you breathless laughing. But you shook your head, focusing on anything else.

You rolled your eyes as you answered Steve. “I think we have a different definition of funny though. Because yours always suck.”

He glanced toward you from the corner of his eye. “You know, maybe you should actually walk to the theater. Car’s feeling a bit cramped.”

Steve began to reach toward your door handle, but you slapped his hand away as you belly laughed. “See, I was going to share my bag of Skittles with you. But now? Not so sure…”

His hand reeled back to his side in an instant. Through a smile, he said, “Fine. You drive a hard bargain.”

The car pulled into the theater’s parking lot before you knew it. Your hand gripped the door handle, forcing your shoulders to relax and your jaw to unclench. Leave it all behind.

You took out your wallet as you entered the building, the jacket still around your shoulders, and asked for two tickets.

But Steve held out a hand, saying, “Come on, not letting you buy my ticket tonight.”

Letting out a long sigh, you shrugged like all you felt was indifference. But you were glad to turn back to the employee so Steve couldn’t see the disappointment on your face. Tonight, because you’d been left at Eddie’s doorstep with no plans. 

But as you had tried and failed to do all evening, you really did forget about Eddie during the movie. You covered your mouth to keep from laughing too hard and ate way too much popcorn, pushing Steve away when he whispered much too loud his terrible jokes. It all passed in a blur, leaving you feeling lighter than before as you finally walked out into the night air.

Tilting your head, you stared up into the sky now free from any clouds. Stars dotted all across the darkness, creating freckles along the universe. The rain had stopped, but you still held the jacket around your body. You shut your eyes for a second, taking a slow breath.

“I think the system jamming with raspberry jam had to be the punniest joke in the whole movie,” Steve joked, breaking you from the quiet moment.

“That was horrible.” You rolled your eyes, unable to stop from laughing regardless. It echoed into the night, all the way to the van coming from down the road.

Any effort to forget about Eddie disappeared as the all too familiar rumbling engine grew louder. The smile that had been still stuck on your face began to drop at seeing Eddie’s van drive toward you and Steve. Instead, a rising rigidness made its way through your body. 

Your steps stuttered for a moment, making Steve stop as well to wait for the van to pull alongside you. You steeled yourself to see Chrissy in the front seat, pretty smile and all right next to Eddie. But as the brakes screeched to a halt, you saw through the rolled-down window that he was alone.

“Hey, where’ve you been? I called your place,” Eddie asked, his jacket-covered arm hanging out of the van. His words sounded strained, but not quite accusatory. His eyes flicked between the two of you, and you tried to remember when you’d seen him this off.

Clutching your hands together, hoping the pressure would somehow ground you (or pull you into the ground), you said, “Uh, we, um, went to the theater. Thought you were busy for the night...” You trailed off, and the air around you three seemed to stretch thin, threatening to shatter and fall to your feet.

“We saw Spaceballs. ‘S pretty good,” Steve added, and that joking tone he had just minutes ago seemed to have disappeared. Still, you were glad for his attempt at keeping things light.

Not that it seemed to work because Eddie then let out a scoff. “Yeah, I’m sure you really appreciated all those Star Trek references.”

“Hey, I’ve seen Star Trek, Munson. I think we all know why Han Solo’s so popular, okay?” Steve told him while running a hand through his hair. 

As you tried to keep your laughing in, you asked, “Are you saying you look like the hit Star Trek character Han Solo?”

And you hated the way your chest bloomed at the sudden laugh Eddie let out, being the one that made him make the sound you loved so much.

While Steve looked at the two of you with eyebrows scrunched, Eddie rested his chin on his hands sat along the window’s edge. He looked lovelier than you’d ever admit. “So… do you need a ride home?”

His eyes never left you, bringing a heat to your cheeks with their intensity. “Uh…” you began.

“I’d already offered a ride,” Steve answered.

Eddie pursed his lips for a second, tilting his head. “But my apartment’s closer, so it’s really no big deal.” 

They both looked to you, expectant looks on their faces as if you held all the answers. And despite everything that’d happened, you couldn’t stop the pull of being with Eddie, the chance to be with him that your body never passed up.

You turned between looking at Steve, then Eddie, and back to Steve again. “Yeah, I can go with Eddie. You’ve done plenty tonight.”

“You sure?” Steve whispered, leaning closer so only you could hear. Giving you an out. But you could do this, and it did make more sense logistically. You were just being efficient really.

You nodded, offering a soft smile. Grabbing his jacket from your shoulders, you handed it back to him. “Thank you again, for everything,” you said before walking to the other side of the van. “Oh, and Harrington? Han Solo’s in Star Wars, not Star Trek.” Your laugh carried out as you said your goodbye, reveling in Steve’s groan that followed.

Though it quickly died down once you shut the van’s door behind you, the loud bang nearly breaking any confidence you thought you might’ve had up until now. Eddie just put it into drive, the van jolting forward. 

The silence wrapping around you both squeezed tight, snaking around your bodies until you thought you couldn’t take it any longer.

“So, where’s Chrissy?”

Well, that was one way to break the silence. At least you ripped the bandage off, prepared to deal with the hurt that followed. Your leg began to shake up and down at the pause, steeling yourself for the worst.

You caught his eyes glancing toward you for a moment before answering. “She drove home. Didn’t stay too long.”

Unsure of how to answer, you just nodded. Only a few drawn-out seconds passed before he continued, “Called your place after to see if you still wanted that movie night.”

Your face twisted as the different emotions flowing through you turned your expression sour. He thought of you, worried about you. But you were still his second choice plans after his dinner fell short.

“Yeah, Steve didn’t have plans tonight and offered to go see a movie,” you said, giving no further explanation.

“Yeah, put that together,” he said, letting a strained pause pass before asking, “Did you like it?”

“It was pretty funny, I think you’d like it. Especially the Star Trek references.” You gave a little laugh, passing a hard swallow down your throat. Talking with Eddie wasn’t supposed to feel like this, not with him. And yet, the next words he spoke sent your body into overdrive.

“Even with The Hair and his jacket?”

Your arms curled in, your legs hugging closer to yourself as you turned just a bit away from him. Where was this coming from?

With a hard stare ahead and a tone sharper than you intended, you said, “Yes…? Even with Steve.” At that, Eddie let out a condescending scoff, making you finally turn toward him. “And was dinner good? Even with The Queen of Hawkins High?”

The words felt bitter dripping off your tongue, unnatural and sparked by Eddie’s own prodding. Both Steve and Chrissy were friends, and they didn’t deserve this talk. But god, how could he be so infuriating right now? 

“Uh yeah, and I’m sure we had a million more interesting things to talk about than hairspray or whatever Harrington cares about,” Eddie muttered, not taking his eyes off the road.

Your hands clenched, your nails digging into the skin of your palms. You welcomed the biting pain. “Eddie, what are you talking about? I thought you and Steve were friends now. And… and at least he made plans with me and stuck to them, alright?”

As your apartment neared, the van fell into a charged silence. Your heartbeat sounded in your ears, drumming the rapid pulse into your head. Inching toward the door, your hand readied to leave the second this vehicle stopped. Maybe a future of floating away was better than one with an anchor that threatened to cut you loose at any second.

The brakes screeched into the air, accompanying Eddie’s soft voice that stopped you from leaving. “Wait.” He shifted the van into park and rested his head against the steering wheel, letting out a strained sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Seconds from asking what he meant, even maybe whispering an apology as well for the comment about Chrissy, you were cut off by a question that sharpened your body to an edge. “Can I be honest with you? And please promise to not completely and absolutely hate me.”

You rolled your eyes at him, your jaw ticking. “I’m not going to hate you, Eddie. Even if you are acting like this right now.”

Running a hand back through his hair, Eddie fidgeted with the rings on his hand as he thought about his words. “You know how we all hung out as a group last week and Chrissy forgot her jacket? Well, that’s really what today was. Returning her jacket and getting coffee. That’s all… but I made it sound worse so you’d, um…”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “So I’d what?”

“So you’d get jealous,” he rushed out, rubbing a palm down his face. “I’m sorry. I thought, for some idiotic reason, that it might make you jealous and confess your feelings. And now…”

He paused, letting out a sigh that turned into a sad, sort of disbelieving laugh as he reached behind his seat. He pulled out some store-bought and slightly crumpled flowers. “And now I’m confessing my feelings after sending you to another man and making myself jealous. And I’m apologizing for being stupid.”

At that, you laughed too. Actually giggled from deep inside. He liked you. You grabbed the flowers, brushing a finger over the orange, red, and yellow petals of the bouquet. “Eddie, that might be one of your worst ideas. Did Dustin suggest it?” you asked, leaning your face in to smell the flowers and hiding the heat rising to your cheeks.

“See! I knew it was terrible. That’s the last time I let Henderson give me dating advice,” Eddie confessed, collapsing dramatically back into his seat.

You just watched him, shaking your head. “Well, I can’t say I disagree with that… I would’ve loved to have movie night with you. Though, it’s not like I was any more forward about confessing my feelings.”

Eddie’s eyes returned to yours, the soft brown of them reaching out to wrap you in a warmth you’d missed. Tentatively, as if one word too loud would break everything, he asked, “And what exactly are your feelings?”

You tilted your head as you stared at him, unable to keep a smile from spreading. “I definitely don’t hate you. And maybe I was a little jealous of Chrissy.”

Eddie sprang forward, a wide grin on his face as he grabbed your hands. “So that’s a yes…that you like me too? Is that a yes? Sweetheart, please tell me that’s a yes,” he begged, inching closer.

Who were you to tell him no? Against his skin, your noses brushing together now, you whispered, “Yes, Eddie.”

Instantly, he pressed his lips against your cheek. And then your forehead. Then your nose. You laughed, your body shaking as he continued his lovely assault. 

He spoke between kisses. “Do you.” Kiss. “Want to.” Kiss. “Have.” Kiss. “Movie night?”

Pulling away, he watched your face. “You pick any movie, I’ll go find it. Let me try this night again, the right way,” he breathed out. His eyes glanced down at your mouth before flicking back up from under those long eyelashes.

Nodding, nearly giddy, you agreed. “Of course.”

And you couldn’t stop smiling, not when he pressed his lips to yours and made your head spin in the most addictive way. Against your mouth, Eddie whispered, “It’s going to be better than your movie night with Steve, right?”

The genuine, almost naked look he gave you nearly stopped your laugh from escaping. Nearly. “Eddie, you don’t need to be jealous anymore. You’ve got me.”

“Right?” he repeated, his fingers resting on the peaks of your cheekbones.

Pressing your forehead against his, you reassured him. “Right.”

Only then did his tense shoulders finally relax, his body melding to yours as he kissed you again. And again. And again for good measure.

You didn’t stop smiling then either. Not when pulling him all the way up to your apartment. Not when watching some movie you’d both seen a million times with popcorn sitting on your laps. And not when falling asleep on Eddie’s chest to the rhythm of his heart, silently promising a future of floating away together, hand in hand.

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things #stranger things #jealous!eddie munson

[redtsundere-writes]

Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen

mma fighter!sukuna ryomen x femalecoach!reader

Part 1. The King Of The Ring.

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Spynosis: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Sukuna being Sukuna. female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Warnings: Cursed words. Sexual harassment. I only read it once, lmao Word count: 2899 words. A/N: Hiya! Well, I am up-to-date with Jinx, and even tho it's so fun to read, I just fucking hate Joo Jaekyung so much! So, I decided to kinda write my own version with my favorite toxic man. Hope you like it, folks!

“Sukuna Ryomen, ladies and gentlemen! He demonstrated again why he is the king of the ring!” The excited narrator exclaimed, meanwhile the king flexed the golden belt around his waist after another amazing fight. 

His body was glossed with sweat, his lips were smiling proudly and the blood of his opponent was sliding down his skin. A dangerous beast who just caught his prey. They showed the repetition of the final hit in slow motion, a perfect punch in the perfect moment. Luck doesn’t exist in the world of mixed martial arts, we have unique opportunities instead. I also used to believe that luck didn’t exist, until I witnessed it in person. 

“It’s here,” I thought out loud when I saw the giant sign that read Team Black MMA Gym in bright white and red letters. 

It was the most important MMA gym in Tokyo. I heard that they only accept the fighters with most potential of the country. My trainer told me that I should try out but, as a woman, I wasn’t particularly interested in entering a male-exclusive gym. The only woman there is the physiotherapist. 

I took the elevator to the gym’s floor. When the doors opened, the smell of sweat and the sound of the metal weights welcomed me. I just stepped inside, and I had already eyes of me, was expecting it to be honest. A woman in a gym filled by rugged men isn’t something you see every day. It didn’t help that I was using an oversize gray hoodie which covered my shorts, making it seem that I wasn’t wearing any pants. 

The gym was divided is training areas. In the corner, there was a real ring that stood tall for fighters to simulate real combats. Along the gym, there were several punching bags, weight stations and resistance equipment. Also, there were more areas designed to practice different fighting styles. 

The sound of the punches and kicks, mixed with the instructions of the coaches, created a threatening and energetic environment. You could easily notice who were the fighters with discipline. Those were working hard to perfect their skills, showing off their determination in every move. The place was impregnated with a spirit of self-improvement and sportsmanship, where the passion for martial arts was in every corner. 

“Welcome, miss.”  A tall blonde man called me.

“You must be the manager, Nanami Kento,” I greeted with a bow, which was reciprocated. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you in person,” he greeted back. “Let me introduce you to your trainee.” He leaded the way through the heavy equipment to the outstanding ring. 

Sukuna was simulating a fight with another member of the gym. Nanami and I just waited for them to finish so he could introduce me. Sukuna was constantly moving towards his opponent, creating closure enough so he could punch him better. The power difference could be noticed from what they were wearing. Sukuna was just wearing a black compressed shirt and gray shorts, meanwhile his black haired opponent was wearing the gym uniform and all the protection equipment available. 

It was a different experience watching live the king of the ring in action. The details like the sound of the punching winds and how Sukuna’s muscles flexed with every move were lost on the TV. When Sukuna threw a definite left jab that left his opponent in the floor, I couldn’t help to gulp hard. He was a killing machine. 

“Great job!” Nanami applauded along some other fighters who were witnessing the fight as well. I clapped so I didn’t look so out of place. 

Sukuna turned to my way and a grimace of disgust appeared on his face, a total stranger with no pants on. He took his gloves off and throw them to my feet. “So this is how it is going to be?” I asked myself, not even bothering picking them up. Sukuna gritted his teeth when I didn’t react. 

“What an awful cleaning lady you hired, Kento,” Sukuna disdainfully said. 

“She is not a cleaning lady! She is your new coach,” Nanami introduced me, ashamed by the attitude of his star athlete. 

“Kick her out, I don’t need a new coach,” Sukuna groaned. 

“If I knew this was going to be like this, why am I here?” I asked myself in my mind, starting to take back my decision of becoming the coach of a well-known fighter with anger issues. Ah, I remember now. I needed to see something for myself. 

“Hello? Am I talking with y/n?” A couple of weeks ago, Nanami Kento called to my gym, desperate. 

“You are talking with her,” I answered, thinking he was a recruiter or someone in the UFC. 

“Great. My name is Nanami Kento, and I am Sukuna Ryomen’s manager.” A famous fighter in the MMA world. The world champion in the light heavyweight division. The king of the ring and a wild tiger during interviews due to his lack of humbleness. A horrible person to the simple eye, a magnificent opponent in the ring. 

“I’ll be straight forward. I don’t if you saw his last fight…” Sukuna’s last fight was in Las Vegas against Suguru Geto, another amazing fighter. The interesting thing about that encounter was seeing two great fighters specialized in opposite areas. Geto specializes in floor fighting, meanwhile Ryomen is an incredible boxer. Everyone went crazy when the fight was announced, could Sukuna beat him with just his bare punches, or would Geto be able to bring him down to his advantage?

In the middle of the fourth round, Geto pulled him to the floor and Sukuna was in problems. Obviously, Sukuna has some training in floor fighting, but he that wasn’t enough when you are against the best. Sukuna tried to set himself free by the force, but his punches weren’t good enough to win the fight. 

“It will be a technical knockout.” I thought out while watching the fight from the comfort of my living room. I was eating chips mindlessly until I saw a unique opportunity. 

Sukuna, in some way, could free himself from Geto’s strong grip. With great momentum, Sukuna delivered a precise punch to the jaw that completely knocked Suguru out. I jumped from the couch to watch closely the repetition. I had seen Geto do that chokehold a thousand times, no opponent can just simply free themselves like that. My eyes couldn’t believe how clean that punch was. 

“The thing is that his coach and I believe he must improve his floor techniques,” Nanami explained the situation.

“There are many more renowned trainers who specialize in floor, why me?” I asked, curious at the whole conversation. I have heard rumors that Sukuna is pretty picky with whom he lets in his gym. 

“You are right. You have been the tenth coach I had called today,” Nanami honestly answered. “Sukuna is too stubborn and doesn’t want to admit that he was also beaten in his last fight. He goes out of his way to get rid of every coach we bring him.”

“Why do you think I will accept?” I asked. If he was calling me, a woman, there’s must be a reason. 

“If I believe someone can humble him and teach him some discipline is you,”  he declared. 

An offended smile appeared on my face. I wasn’t going to let Sukuna Ryomen treat me like if I was a slack to deal with. Now I understood why every coach gave up on him, you cannot train something that doesn't want to be trained, but you can tame it. 

“Sukuna, we already talked about this. You should train with someone who specializes in floor so what happened in Vegas doesn't happen again,” his coach said, Satoru Gojo. A tall white haired man in an all black coaching uniform. He was standing beside him with his arms crossed, clearly stressed from dealing with his bratty attitude all day. 

“What happened in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas. I don’t need another stupid coach,” he defended himself while he brushed his hair back with his fingers. 

“You win, I won’t train you,” I said in defeat. I turned around and was making my way to the elevator. “Either way, I don’t train assholes,” I said with a sly smile. A howl from the fighters who heard me echoed through the gym. 

“Stop!” He barked. I turned around to see what he wanted. 

“You didn’t want me to leave?” I asked, trying not to smirk. 

“What did you call me?” He dared me to repeat myself. 

“Did Geto hit you so hard that you went deaf? I said, you are an asshole!” I shouted from my place. 

Nanami quickly got to me so I behaved better, but I couldn’t back down now. Sukuna scoffed and snapped his fingers at me. 

“Get up here,” he demanded as another fighter gave him back his gloves. He wanted to fight me.

“You don’t have to, miss,” Nanami warned me in a whisper. 

“I know what I am doing, don’t worry,” I answered in the same volume. 

I put the teeth protector I brought with me on my pink shoulder bag. I wrapped my hands in bandages while Sukuna was analyzing me from top to bottom. It was understandable, I was a dangerous wasp in his bee hive. The rest of the fighters stop training to get around the ring to witness the match. When I finished wrapping my hands, I took off my hoodie, revealing my abs and toned arms. Some whistle and applauded as if I was a stripper, when I could shut them up with a kick in the nuts. Sukuna, in the other hand, just kept staring, looking for weaknesses. He was being serious. 

“You better not be wasting my time,” he angrily barked. His red eyes still looking me from head to toes without shame. 

“You are already wasting mine,” I answered. Sukuna smiled, offended.

“We are really going to let this fight happen?” Nanami asked Gojo.

“It looks like it's the only way he will accept her,” Gojo said before stepping inside the ring. “Touch gloves so we can start.” I placed my gloves in the middle so Sukuna could bump them, but he just backed away. “Fucking pussy” I thought, backing up to my side. 

A small audience formed around the ring for an unusual show. A light heavyweight champion against a random girl that just showed up. It looked like the possibilities of winning weren’t on my side. I started moving my legs and arms to relax my limbs. If Sukuna was a lion, I had to be a fast gazelle. His preying eyes were on me all times. I smiled at him. He could look me everything he wanted, he didn’t scare me. It was my time to show him who was boss. 

“Fight!” Gojo shouted. 

There is a gold rule in mixed martial arts: “The first hit is the most important.” Sukuna flew towards me with a superman punch. He was open. I dodged it fast enough so I could jab him against his left cheek. The surprised audience gasped collectively. Sukuna quickly got used to my rhythm and changed his posture towards me. I created distance between us, so I could evaluate my options. I didn't have any other option than going for his legs, but that wouldn’t be a simple task. His legs were too strong to just swoop him off his feet with a single kick. I needed to do something more drastic.

Sukuna kept closing the distance between us to punch me directly, he was looking for the knockout. He was more of an offensive than defensive fighter, like I already knew. Sukuna hit me a couple of times that were celebrated by the public. They stung with power and intense pain. He was giving the best of him. I needed to answer with the same power, but in a more clever way. 

I kicked him in the stomach so he could back down, but he pushed my hand down just in time, so my kick didn’t connect well. I tried kicking the other side, this time he stopped me by grabbing my ankle. Big mistake. I impulsed myself with my other leg to kick him on his face to knock him to the floor. Sukuna fell with a big slam that made the whole audience to howl in surprised. 

I quickly got onto him to lock him down against the mat with my legs around his neck and torso. He tried getting up, just like with Geto, but I wasn’t going to let him. This was the only chance I got to beat him. I could listen to Sukuna growling under his breath. He punched me against my sides, but I couldn’t give up. I latched my left leg on his right arm, making him turn around slowly. The audience screamed confusing instructions to Sukuna because they knew if this continued like this, the fight was over. I made Sukuna turned around on his belly. I reached for his head, so I could chokehold him in between my biceps. The screams kept getting louder, but I didn’t give a damn. I needed to end him, if I wanted a place on his gym. Sukuna started to breath with difficulty while this hands tried to loosen up my powerful grasp. He was reliving what happened in Las Vegas. 

“Come on, Sukuna! Finish this!” Gojo ordered among the hollering. Sukuna sighed and obeyed. He tapped my arms three times in surrender. A technical knockout. I quickly released him and I stand tall, leaving him space so he could breathe. 

“y/n “Medusa’s snake” y/ln is the winner,” Gojo announced while raising my arm in victory. The fighters applauded me in approval. I took my dental protector to breathe comfortably through my mouth. Even though I won, I wasn’t finished. 

“Good fight…” Sukuna groaned under his breath, giving me his hand to shake. I did shake it, even though he was visibly mad. I could understand why, I just kicked his ass in front of his entire gym. 

“This means you will train Sukuna?” Nanami asked me with hope in his voice. 

“No, I said I didn’t coach assholes” I shrugged. Sukuna’s face turned from angry to offended in a hot second. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! I am a world champion, you should be honored to train me!” He shouted on my face, but I didn’t budge. He wasn't upset that I had to train him. Now, he's just mad because I didn't want to train him anymore. We were making progress. 

“I am not interested in training the world champion of assholes,” I seriously said before putting my hoodie back on. 

I hung the bag on my shoulder and quickly walked away from the whole situation. I dodged the other fighters on my way out. Nanami kept following me, asking me to reconsider the offer. I took the elevator, leaving the chaos behind me. Once the doors closed, I collapsed against the wall behind me. Fighting against Sukuna was an entire workout. The bruises started to show up in purple hues, my legs were trembling weak, and my lips were begging for water. Dealing with Sukuna wasn’t an easy task. 

The elevator’s doors opened on the first floor. I stepped out just to rest my body for a minute. I took my water bottle out to drink some while I waited. What I was waiting for? I really didn’t know, but I needed to wait for someone to come chasing after me to beg me to stay. Maybe it was going to be Nanami, Gojo or any other fighter. It could be anyone. 

“Wait!” The last person that I thought would come for me said behind me. It was Sukuna. He looked tired and agitated. He was wearing a black hoodie, and he wiped the sweat off his forehead. 

“What do you need, asshole?” I asked without taking the straw off my mouth. 

“Don’t call me like that,” he groaned. 

“I will once you stop acting like one,” I said, putting my water bottle aside. Sukuna rolled his eyes and sighed. He was so done. “Now you know that you need me?” I asked with a confident smirk. 

“I don't need you, but you are good. I want you in my team,” he corrected. 

“Fine, with one condition.” Sukuna raised his chin at me to continue. “You must accept that you are terrible in floor fighting.” He laughed at the “absurd condition.”

“I am a world champion, I am not terrible in floor fighting,” he angrily said. 

“It’s not good to lie so much,” I said, replicating his tone. I turned around to exit the building. “If you don’t want to fulfil my condition, I can’t train you.” 

“Wait!” Sukuna grab me by my arm to stopped me. “Fine,” he sighed again. “I am terrible at floor fighting, are you happy now?” I turned to him with a bright smile on my face. 

“See? That wasn’t that hard.”

“Hush,” he groaned, clearly embarrassed. His cheeks were a bit flustered, it was kinda cute.

“When do we start?” I asked with a proud heart. The Medusa’s Snake had beaten another terrible man. 

“Right now,” he pulled me with him, back to the elevator.

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[astralnymphh]

Wait expanding on Ellie looking out for you but not for herself…thinking abt her sternly telling you to drink water as if she’s had anything but random sips of coffee throughout the day or reminding you to take your makeup off meanwhile she keeps getting distracted by random tasks and keeps procrastinating taking a shower…thinking many thoughts

♯.♱┆mhm, mhm, that is very ellie. I think ellie is so aware and acquainted with you being a welcomed presence in her space 24/7 that she has an eye on you— peripherally and straight-on. sat at a desk? glances here and there, sometimes a surprise kiss on the head for a bonus (checks to see if you're genuinely working on your coursework or not). taking a nap? preps a cup of water, switches the TV on for background noise (and for herself), covers you with a freshly laundered blanket, and lies near. stashes a mental checklist of certain things you have or haven't done, yet involuntarily disregards her own needs because you clog each pocket of her noggin known to craze over some fixation; such as a comic series, a video game, ideas on how to begin her latest pièce de résistance, or woodland muses that prance about the encompassing afternoon light and leap right into said pièce de résistance— but now, you've dethroned most fixations, and eclipsed an amassing portion of her life. routine dedication, she precautions; a human-sized, human-voiced, reminder alarm. like literally. "hey, did you wipe your makeup off?" but once she gets a good glimpse of your sleepy face in bed— stained by the remnants of makeup that managed to cling to your features– she just chuckles and gives you that "really?" expression, but it's delicate and kindhearted when her face wears it. "here— I kept a pack near, just because.." twists her head and reaches an arm to the nightstand nearest, hand then returning with a wipe softly clamped in two fingers and takes it upon herself to clean your eyelids first; pad of her thumb wrapped in the damp tissue lining a stroke along the bottom one. such a sweetheart, clad by such a focus-scrunched face whilst doing it, "it's okay, I got it. just means I get to look at your really, really pretty face longer before sleeping," piebald freckles tugging toward the center of her concentrated features, and lips softly hung in a grin. a steadying hand curls around the flank of your shoulder, just massaging; fingerprints soothing you in little circles. "ts' not like I don't when you are but— oh, I sound like a creep now, don't I?" her face awkwardly cringing a bit, prompting you to remind her, croaky-voiced, "you sound like my girlfriend who can't sleep at a proper time and spends it admiring her girlfriend with a healthy sleep schedule instead. nothing odd there." and ellie, mimicking a grinned offense, lets air spout against her shut teeth, "tch— you're the worst."

MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . READ THIS . PALESTINE MP

i would write out more scenarios but my cramps have a genuine chokehold on my uterus. (can add a large text document version if needed)

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