#to use a thing is to love it to be loved is to be changed etc

[dimeadozencows]

I redrew rambs sprites is there a power strip emoji

🔌 does this count

The descriptions I gave each expression are what they're called in the files :]

Like and subscribe if you'd shed a tear for a bloke who does fuck all

[rosy-hollow]

Thinking about Number 2 Pro Hero Dynamight whose pretty wife is not only a Pro Hero but the Number 4 as well - the only thing stopping her from getting higher is because she simply didn't feel like it.

You're extremely powerful, but you also knew how taxing it was to be in the top three ranks of hero society, what with the extra publicity and pressure, instead settling for number four because it was the best position, in your opinion.

Though, the public doesn't really know your reasoning for staying at your rank, and though you remain an inspiration for men and women alike across all of Japan and even spreading to other countries, that didn't stop certain people from underestimating you.

It was a random Tuesday.

You were exhausted.

Tired to your bones.

Katsuki was out on a mission, and you knew there would definitely be some paparazzi - and though he would be back later today, you missed his warmth and comfort.

So, you turned on the TV, surfing through various channels before your blonde husband came into view on the screen.

The reporter there had a wide smile plastered on his face, so stretched it almost looked fake.

You sighed. This should be good.

The man had slicked brown hair and a pointed nose, waving his microphone into the disgruntled blonde's face, the latter's nose crinkling slightly in discomfort.

You, on the couch can't help but mimic the blonde's expression instinctively, having been together so long that you felt his slight irritation through the screen.

"So, Pro Hero Dynamight! Everyone knows you're married to the Number Four Pro hero, your wedding had been all over the news!" he chuckles - though to you it personally sounded like sputtering car engine.

You blink - that's definitely not what you were expecting the reporter to ask.

Katsuki raises an eyebrow on the screen, not saying anything but suspicious as to where this conversation is going.

"However...your wife has been maintaining that spot for a while now...many people can say that they haven't noticed any progress in her career! What do you say about this?"

You look at the screen in disbelief, not so much offended, instead just shocked at the pure audacity of the man.

Katsuki, however, being the angel he is, took offense on your behalf.

You watch his Adam's apple bob as his eyebrow twitches, getting a glimpse of that pure anger that seemed to be ever present during his teenage years.

But he doesn't lash out, years of maturing and your love let him reign him emotions in, no matter how violently they were swirling in his chest.

Instead, he barks out a laugh, dark and menacing - enough to make the reporter visibly squeak in fear. Even you felt your eyes widen slightly at the change in demeanor.

Katsuki glances and the camera and scoffs, leaning in close to the reporter to whisper in his ear, enough for the microphone to pick up.

"My wife could single handedly wipe out every villain in Japan in she wanted to. Only reason why she hasn't is because she's sweet enough to give the rest of us sorry asses a chance."

You're pretty sure your whole body is red by the time the channel switches to some random toothpaste ad.

A/N: yayayayay katsuki loves his badass wife

[inkskinned]

you tried everything. you tried relationship check-ins and using positive thinking. you tried modelling healthy coping strategies and printing out pages of cognitive behavioral therapy tricks. you tried relationship podcasts and audiobooks and posts on instagram. you tried steamrolling your own emotions and making yourself into a fractal of a person. you tried ripping out your own hair and you tried to feed from your own stomach. you tried setting boundaries - and when that failed, you tried to be okay with broken boundaries.

you tried explaining, over and over and over. you tried long-winded texts that delicately apologized and took accountability; you tried short and earnest apologies that directly confronted the issue. you tried letting them apologize first - and when that didn't work at all, you tried to delicately explain you needed their apology.

you tried, because you really thought they could change. sometimes, if you caught them in the right moment - they even seemed willing. they would nod and agree to try therapy (eventually) or try calming techniques (eventually) or try safe communication practices (eventually) or try -

and you feel like a fool, because you gave them so much grace about it, and that's how things got so bad for so long. you were being patient and kind and willing. you gave them time. you promised yourself that next week, they'd be better. next week, they'd be the partner you needed. next week, they'd be there for you. they'd finally see all the effort and love and trying! and as some kind of divine reward, why, they'd finally -

the whole time your boundaries shifted and swam. since you were being patient with them, you started taking barely-there token actions as being "enough." okay, they didn't really apologize, but even the use of the words "i'm sorry" was enough! okay, they didn't support you through grief, but afterwards they seemed guilty about that and offered to buy you sushi. wasn't that all good enough? isn't love about growth and bringing the other person up with you?

so when you finally broke about this and finally decided to run: well, you had expected to be ruined. you had cried in the shower picturing it. and instead. instead. you were suddenly, coldly, wildly - done.

[kuncitizen]

The changes seem almost imperceptible at first.

Gojo's bathroom rack, once barren except for a two-in-one shampoo that doubles as body wash—is now cluttered with pastel bottles, a pink loofah with a bow, and some mysterious scrub labeled watermelon smoothie (which, to his utter disappointment, was not edible).

The mirror near the rack—once mounted at his freakishly tall eye level—now has a mini mirror suctioned right beside it, tilted lower just for you.

You didn’t even say anything. Just sighed one morning, yawned, and slapped it on with sleepy precision. He had laughed at you for being bite-sized, but caught himself using it when trimming his jawline.

And the fridge used to be sad, truly. Half a bottle of lychee-flavoured lemonade, a sketchy cucumber, and maybe a Red Bull or five.

Now there's fresh strawberries in containers you washed, vegetables, spices arranged alphabetically in matching jars. He made fun of it at first. But then two weeks later, when he could find the cumin instantly, he stared into the distance and muttered, “My baby's a genius.”

There’s a polaroid stuck to the fridge door with a peach-shaped magnet. You’re in the middle of the frame, laughing so hard your eyes are half-closed. Gojo’s beside you, one arm wrapped lazily around your shoulders as he makes the dumbest face known to man, while his other arm yanks a scowling Megumi into the shot like a hostage. The caption, scribbled in your messy handwriting, reads:

Family dinner (Megumi hates us).

Just beneath the photo, pinned by the same magnet, is a torn piece of paper:

-milk

-eggs

-bread

-celery

-don’t forget the glazed donuts you like even though they give you heartburn <3

Gojo keeps the list even after everything’s been bought, folding it once and slipping it into his pocket.

Because it might be just some grocery list to anyone else. But to him, it’s written in your handwriting, smells faintly like your lotion, and—most importantly—it ends with a <3.

So naturally, there’s no official "you moved in” moment. No big conversations or suitcases.

It's your scent lingering on his pillow. Your toothbrush sitting next to his in a cup he swears he didn’t buy.

It’s your hair ties scattered on his bedside table, the black ones that Gojo swears just keep multiplying. But he sometimes picks them up and just holds them for no reason, like they’re sacred relics of a goddess.

And then there are the things that aren’t objects at all.

The moments that take up space. The gestures, the silences, the care stitched into his life like you’ve always been part of it.

Like when you were were in the laundry folding his shirts, humming off-key to something on your phone and snapping the fabric mid-air like you meant business. You didn’t notice him at first—standing in the hallway, gripping the doorframe like he’s been physically hit with feelings.

Gojo had to literally bite his knuckle to keep himself from bursting into tears or tackle you mid-fold and bite your arm out of the sheer overload of affection.

Or just last night, when he swore he passed out with the lights still on, jacket half-off, phone dead on the nightstand. He only remembers collapsing onto the mattress with his head pounding, too tired to even take off his shoes.

But he wakes up warm. Shoes off, lights out, a blanket tucked around his figure. There's a note scribbled in your familiar writing, just beside the glass of water and packets of Tylenol placed on the bedside table.

“Took your shoes off and put painkillers on the table. You looked like roadkill. Love you.”

He stared at it for a full ten minutes, blanket pulled to his chin like a little boy, blinking at the ceiling with the stunned realization that someone out there loved him like this—so gently, so normally, that it didn’t even ask to be acknowledged.

Gojo rolls out of bed like a man reborn and follows the smell of something frying in the kitchen.

Because of course, you’re there.

Barefoot, standing on your tiptoes at the stove, lips pursed in concentration as you stir something sizzling in a pan. His hoodie swallows you whole, dipping low on your thighs, sleeves bunched around your wrists. Your hair’s twisted up messily, and he swears if he looks any longer, he’s going to melt into the floor like a cartoon character.

It’s almost unfair how casual you look in his space. Like you were meant to be there. Like the room rearranged itself around you.

Gojo forgets his exhaustion in an instant. The only thing sore now is his heart.

He pads over and wraps his arms around you from behind, arms sliding around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“You’re trying to kill me,” Gojo mumbles against your skin.

You snort. “I’m literally making food for you.”

“That’s not what’s gonna kill me.”

“What, the garlic?”

“The fact that you’re standing in my kitchen looking like a walking dream,” he grumbles, kissing the side of your neck.

You laugh, wiggling your hips slightly to throw him off. “Down, boy. You’re gonna burn your fingers.”

He groans like he’s actually in pain, but doesn’t move. If anything, he presses closer, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your neck and mumbling nonsense into your skin.

“Y’know,” you say, flipping the pan with ease, “if you distract me, and we both die in a fire, that’s on you.”

“Worthy sacrifice,” he mutters, lips brushing your collarbone.

Gojo's hand slides down—slow, lazy, like he has all the time in the world. His fingers find yours, and he gently pulls your left hand away from the spatula. You blink, confused, as he lifts your hand and lightly wraps his fingers around your ring finger, measuring.

You raise a brow. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he replies way too fast.

You squint at him. “Is this another one of your weird kinks or—”

“Shh.” He coos as he kisses the tip of your finger. “Just checking if my future plans align.”

You narrow your eyes further, suspicious of where Gojo's going with this.

“You like rubies better or diamonds?”

You pause. “What?”

He grins into your shoulder, kissing it again. “I’m just saying. Hypothetically. If a guy wanted to be smart and lock it down before someone else does.”

Your voice comes out quieter than expected. “You’re serious?”

Gojo leans in, his voice low and uncharacteristically sincere, suddenly stripped of the teasing.

“I am so stupidly, pathetically serious about you, it’s embarrassing. I want to marry the girl who makes my apartment feel like more than just four walls. I want to put a ring on the hand that steals my hoodies and flips me off.”

Your lips part, but he keeps going.

“I want you in my kitchen, in my bed, even in my closet. Even when you leave coffee mugs everywhere. Even when you hog the blanket. Even when you bully me for crying during Pixar trailers.”

“You do cry during Pixar trailers.”

“And I’ll cry during our wedding vows too. I’m not an insecure man.”

You lean in and kiss him before he gets all sappy again, hands tangling in his hair as he wraps his arms fully around you, pulling you close enough to feel every soft breath.

Halfway through, Gojo smiles against your lips like he can’t help it. Like his heart spilled out through his mouth and all it could do was grin stupidly.

When you pull back, his forehead rests against yours, eyes half-lidded, that smile still lingering.

“So, rubies or diamonds?”

You roll your eyes, but your own smile creeps in anyway. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” he replies.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s already engraving your ring size into permanent memory.

A/N: I literally got so lazy that I didn't even proofread before posting this. So if you spot a typo, no you didn't.

[vasito-de-leche]

I love, LOVE your characterization of the Saja Boys, and while I know you’ve only written complete dating hcs for Baby and Abs, I was hoping if it was okay if I could request something with the Saja Boys (separately) where it follows the prompt “you're about to argue but you're so pretty that his brain short circuits”? If you don’t want to write for all of them, then maybe you could do Baby and Abs (separately)?

;KPOP DEMON HUNTERS SAJA BOYS - "Too Pretty"

Saja Boys (separate) x Reader 2.5k words silly, fluff Being a demon's soft spot has its benefits. Who would've thought?

i'm so glad you like the way I write them!! this prompt sounded so fun, I just had to try my hand at it, thank you!

this also served as a way for me to slowly figure out how I'd like to characterize the other members o7 I tried to keep the relationship vague enough to be read as whatever people want, so hope that comes across well enough. also also, dont let these dramatic edgy idols fool you, all drabbles end up being silly and cute

JINU

"Are you even listening, Jinu?"

He is, of course. But he'd rather not, especially when you're getting worked up over nothing; so much for escaping an endless cycle of torture in the underworld, he now has to deal with a brand new mess, pacing behind him like a madman. By now, you've probably noticed the monotonous and non-committal answers he's been giving on loop.

"Uh-huh," Jinu's eyes never stray from the notebook in front of him, attempting to come up with a better verse for an upcoming song. And he knows he's fucked up when he hears you groan, stomping towards him.

"Okay, okay. Maybe I stopped listening abooout ... five or ten minutes ago, who's counting, but--"

Your hand comes into view, fast as lighting, and he can only look as you snatch the notebook away from him. Great, awesome.

There goes the perfect verse in his head. He remains frozen for a moment, the hand holding a pen still hovering over the now empty spot on his desk until your voice reaches him once more.

"If you're not going to listen, at least tell me so I don't waste my time talking to you."

Jinu slouches in his seat, raising both hands to cover his face, before sliding them upwards to slick back his hair in a feeble attempt at regaining his composure. You can't even see him from this angle, his back turned to you, but he still rolls his eyes.

You want to argue? Get it out of your system? Fine, he can give you the fight you want.

In one swift motion, his position changes; now he's straddling the chair, a powerplay he's come to master after bickering with his own band for so long, eyes closed as he prepares to deliver a devastating comeback to rile you up. But when he looks up, the golden glow in his eyes wavers--you're standing so close in front of him, looking down at his seated form with your arms crossed, as if daring him to speak.

He doesn't, and you tilt forwards, hair cascading over him so that the only thing he can focus is your face in this one-sided glaring contest.

Jinu has seen you at your best and your worst, but this is the first time he's found himself at the other end of your undivided attention and anger. It is as intimidating as it is alluring. What are you doing to him? Is this allowed? His neck feels hot, his face feels hot. The room feels like it's on fire, but not the same type of hellfire he's grown used to; it's a different sort of warmth, equal parts shame and pleasure as he takes in the sight. His lips part without him noticing, whispering ever so gently.

"Pretty ..."

"What was that?" Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

"Shitty. I said you look. Shitty. As in, you look like shit. Being angry isn't doing you any favors, you know? You should get some rest, okay. Byeee."

Without giving you any time to react, Jinu fumbles over his words, trips over your furniture and he stumbles out of your apartment in a rush, almost breaking into a sprint for the elevator. It's only when the doors close that he allows himself to breathe in and out, finally noticing the extra passenger inside with him. His bird companion chirps smugly, and Jinu groans into his palms.

"I don't want to talk about it."

ROMANCE

"I didn't mean it like that!"

Romance scoffs at your words, still refusing to leave his room. All the heart shaped decorations seem to mock him as he leans his full weight against the door, easily preventing you from entering no matter how hard you try to rattle the doorknob.

Both of you find yourself at the edge of an argument, and the decision to escalate things lies solely on his hands. He knows this because he can practically hear the affection in your words, even as you whine and tell him to get over himself to talk to you, face to face. That alone is enough to make Romance's chest tighten--no matter how many times he does this, this game of push and pull, you still make sure to chase after him time and time again.

Surely you must be reaching your breaking point; nobody is strong enough to withstand this much heartbreak. Maybe if he tries a little harder, you'll realize that there's nothing good in a future with him.

All he has to do is stay silent and wait for you to leave.

"Then what did you mean?" His voice is whiny, it always is. But you always insist that you love that about him, the way he feels so deeply about everything.

"You really want to argue about something like this?" You're right, you usually are--he's making things difficult when he's not even officially yours. "Well, I don't. So you can call me once you've cooled off."

And just like that, it's quiet; there's no more pressure pushing against him from the other side of the door, no more cutesy nicknames and attempts at coercing him out. Romance's heart drops, and he practically claws his way out, torn between cursing you out for proving him right and leaving, or begging you to take him back and sort everything out as if he hadn't been the one to start this. He's taken only a single step out of the threshold of his sanctuary when your smile greets him--you're leaning casually against the door frame, pretending to inspect your nails.

"So, are you done brooding all by yourself, handsome?"

That playful grin renders Romance speechless; the contrast of your casual attitude against his frenzied panic is impossible to ignore, he's gone through all five stages of grief in under a minute while your trust in him never wavered. Absence truly makes the heart grow fonder because there's a glint in your eyes that tugs at his heartstrings, wild strands of hair that he'd love to twirl in his fingers and kiss ever so gently. Romance knows that you'll let him if he asks for permission, and a knot forms in his throat, face flushed bright pink.

"No." It's all he manages to squeak out before closing the door once more.

"Rommie! Are you mad at me or not?!"

"I don't??? Know??? I need a moment! Just stay there!"

ABBY

"That's the last time I take you anywhere. You can't just pick a fight like that, Abby!" Abby sinks even deeper into the plush cushions of the couch as you continue to scold him, as if his sulking and his silence could single-handedly help him win this argument.

He's already found himself a comfortable spot, but you're still fussing about the living room, throwing your shoes to the side, sending your jacket flying onto the backrest of the sofa, pausing to drink and slamming the glass on the counter a little harder than necessary. Abby knows better than to try and stop you, so he stays put, waiting for his opening.

"What if anyone saw? Did you even think about that? The amount of trouble you'd be in?"

Those are all very good questions that he never bothered to consider; in fact, he still refuses to think about the consequences. There's no point in doing so when you managed to pull him away before he could do any damage to anyone, or to his own reputation as an idol.

"Like they'd even care," Abby huffs, trying to blow a strand of hair out of his eyes. "Just catching a glimpse of us outside is enough to make everyone turn a blind eye, it's almost too easy to work the crowd. One flex of these guns and any broken noses will be totally forgotten."

He makes an attempt to flex said guns, but he finds you looming over him from behind the couch, your grasp on his wrists as steady as death. There is a wild look in your expression, one he can't quite understand, but he finds it impossible to tear his eyes away from you. Getting to play the part of guard dog for you comes as easy as breathing, Abby can't get enough of the little tells that give you away, letting him know that you enjoy his antics--but it never crossed his mind that the tables could be reversed like this.

"Fine, let me put it this way! What if you got in trouble or worse, what if you got hurt? Ever thought of that one? Just because you're an all mighty demon doesn't mean you're--"

"You're hot when you're mad." He blurts out.

"I--What?"

A chance to rectify his mistake is presented to him, and he immediately pivots away from it when you blink your pretty eyes at him in confusion. "I said that you're hot when you're--"

"I heard you the first time, Abby. It's just--were you listening to what I was saying?" Okay, this is his chance to steer the conversation back on track. It's very easy, he just has to--

"If I say no, will you scold me some more?"

"Oh my God. Abby. Nevermind."

MYSTERY

Arguing with you is a rare occurrence.

But so is speaking to you, or engaging in any sort of conversation at all with anyone. This is one of the many perks that came with his role as the cool, mysterious and aloof member of the Saja Boys; anything he didn't feel like addressing could be easily swept under the rug and left ignored for centuries. This had been Mystery's modus operandi for years, and he wasn't planning on changing it any time soon.

You, on the other hand, were the opposite, filling the silence he often sought so desperately, until your voice became background noise in his life, a constant, confusing and somewhat comforting presence that simply followed him around.

Mystery still remembers the first time he deigned himself to reply, something off-handed that didn't matter at all, and yet you clung to his every word and went the extra mile to include him in your one-sided talks. It took a long time for the demon to get used to this, and an even longer time to acknowledge the fact that he enjoys the sound of your laughter, way better than the miserable voices crawling in the back of his mind.

Which is why the claustrophobic and oppressive silence lingering in the room irks him to no end. You're supposed to be talking, not playing hard to get or ignoring him over a stupid argument; the way you brush past him, barely acknowledging his existence as you go about your day is getting under his skin in ways he never knew were possible.

And then, for a fleeting second, you meet his gaze--this moment lasts for an eternity in his eyes, and he opens his mouth to speak, to seize the opportunity and break the ice, but before he can get a single word out, you turn around and begin to scroll through your phone. That's the last straw.

Mystery stands up and forces himself into your peripheral, hands firmly planted on the wall, trapping you in.

For the first time in forever, he wants to scream, to bark, to growl and give you a piece of his mind. But when he sees the way you awkwardly avoid his gaze, fiddling with your hands and standing at your tiptoes, Mystery relents and his frustration is replaced with something else; endearment. You're still wearing his merch, one of the very first shirts the Saja Boys released long ago with his name written on it, you're still attempting to hide from him despite knowing there's nowhere in the world you could go without him finding you.

Slowly, Mystery raises a hand towards you, enjoying your half-hearted attempt at shaking him off, pretending to bite the air near him.

And then he pinches your nose. "Cute."

After that, he leaves. You'll come around when you feel like it.

BABY

"You went too far this time, there was no need to get so personal back there."

"That's the entire point of dissing someone, duh. So, was it good? Did you like it?" Baby kicks his feet, hands cupping his cheeks to make himself look as innocent as possible. "I didn't know I could rhyme that many words with 'cunt' but it was soooo fun! Right, right?"

"Baby!"

Tsk. Guess it's the hard way today. That cute expression quickly turns into a scowl and he makes a bee-line for the fridge, if only to find something to drink and distract himself with.

He blows bubbles into the silly straw, sulking in the kitchen. "What? They got what they deserved. What kind of idiot would challenge me to a rap battle if they can't take the heat? Hellooooo, it's Baby Saja we're talking about."

"But it was a friendly thing, you turned it into a massacre for no reason."

"Heh," he knows he shouldn't, but he snickers to himself anyway. "Guess I did, huh? What, do you wanna have a go in their place?"

This is how Baby likes to play, to earn a reaction and entertain himself if only for a little--but you always know better than to play into his shenanigans. And you also know how to get a message through his thick skull, something that continues to astonish him to this day.

Baby continues to sip away on his drink as you busy yourself, fully believing himself to be the victor of this round. But dread starts to make its presence known deep in his chest as he sees you slowly gathering your things--this isn't how things usually go, you always stay the night at his place to keep him company, watching horrible romcoms, eating snacks and falling asleep at 5 a.m.

So why were you leaving?

"Hey, hey. Woaaah! Are you really going to ditch me because I got a little mean to some rando? That's so unfair." The look you give him is enough for his act to crumble, and Baby groans dramatically before hurrying to your side, tugging onto the hem of your sleeves. "Stay here! Pleeeeeeaase? I'll behave next time!"

It doesn't work; you pinch his cheeks and pull, stretching them like mochi. Your voice is stern, even after you let go. "You're old enough to know that what you have to say is 'sorry,' Baby. But if you want to beg for forgiveness, you'll have to try a little harder than that."

Shit. So much for being unfair, the tone of your voice and that look in your eye are more than enough to get all the thoughts in his mind twisted up--Baby hates when you don't indulge him, but even he has to admit that he loves that stubborn streak in you.

"What? Cat got your tongue? I know you well enough by now, there's no way you have nothing to say."

You never waver, meeting his eyes with the same intensity, running a hand through your hair. Baby's mouth turns into a fine line, followed by a pout. If he says anything right now, he'll most likely end up digging his own grave. You look SUPER hot right now, is that good enough to make up and get you to stay? Something like that would most likely earn him the silent treatment for a week.

"Sssssssorry ..."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it--"

"...for being soooo damn good at my job. Like it's my fault?"

"I'll see you tomorrow Baby."

"Aw, c'mon!"

[snapscube]

I'd love to hear more about your thought process regarding the lyrics to your Deltarune song! Was it written with a specific POV in mind, or was it more so about the general theme/vibes of the newest chapters?

sure! i love talking about this stuff hehe. you could probably surmise from the font and left-aligned all-caps format of the lyrics that i was specifically trying to adapt the message from Gaster at the end of chapter 4 into lyrics while also mixing a bit of my general sentiment towards the overall story in there for flavor. so going line by line:

HOW MANY YEARS HAVE I SPENT ANTICIPATING THIS NEW CONNECTION

Very much the most "from Gaster POV" the song gets. literally just a direct adaption of Gaster messages like these

ALL OF US MARCHING ALONG YET STILL IN WAITING

I really wanted to include the recurring mention of how something or something within Deltarune as a whole has been "WAITING". We keep hearing this specific word and it really scratches my brain. DELTARUNE IS WAITING. It's so cool to me. Also the "marching along" being a reference to the beads at the hospital. Everyone walks along this path of prophecy and fate but in spite of the progress they make.... IT IS STILL WAITING.

YOUR OWN REFLECTION GAZES IN TURN AS YOU FACE THE LEGEND'S BENDING

The reflection line being meant to both capture the imagery of the reflection in the mirror in Kris's house AS WELL AS the running theory that the "Angel" from the prophecy is supposed to represent the player, which is why their image in the prophecy is blank. So as to reflect your own face onto the black screen in its place. Which I think is SUPER cool and compelling if true.

And then the line about the "legend's bending" being a reference to how in spite of everyone's appeal to prophecy... certain key factors of that prophecy seem to already be wildly out of line. It is bending, it's seemingly changing.

THE SHATTERED GLASS AND

"The shattered glass" once again being a reference to direct rejection of prophecy and what MUST be. The way that Susie punches through the glass of the final prophecy.

PARTS OF YOUR DREAMS THAT YOU WISH COULD BECOME ENDINGS

And my personal favorite line, the one literally being the reason I wrote and recorded this whole thing. I was humming to myself while listening to Neverending Night and the line "All of your dreams that you wish could become endings" entered my brain and became super sticky cause, to me, that's been the most compelling part of Deltarune to me for a long while. The idea that as far as we've heard Deltarune's ending is the driving force behind why it exists in the first place. The one that came from a fever dream so vivid that someone could dedicate their whole life to making it a reality. I love that kind of thing so much and it really strikes my heart.

ARE WITH YOU IN THE

Finishing the sentence about dreams with a reference to the recurring "with you in the dark" motif of Deltarune, butttttt cutting it off right at the final word to capture the nature of Deltarune currently being an incomplete story with room for our expectations and certainties to be challenged.

hope this was fun to read! :) it was fun to write. i'd love to do more if the inspiration strikes.

[astroismypassion]

Astrology observations 🌟⭐️🌟

Credit goes to Tumblr @astroismypassion

This one has been sitting in my drafts for months.

🌟I don't care what y'all say about Venus in the 6th house loving order and organisation. I see these people love orderly chaos and aesthetic cluttercore. They embrace curated mess and love imperfectly organised spaces. They love having vintage things, trinkets, crystals on their desk.

⭐️Taurus Mercury is a sensory thinker. They often get flashes of knowing or information while cooking, walking, creating or just being. They also remember things in sensory flashes, like the smell of the room where the breakup happened, the tone someone used that made you trust them, what something felt like in your gut. They dislike being rushed into an opinion (lol Kanye West), but then casually drop a truth bomb.

🌟Venus in the 6th house has a secret love of miniatures, such as tiny animals, pocket-sized art, tiny plushies.

⭐️Gemini over the 7th house, you guys, attract people who bring out two sides of you. And you definitely are not the type who can make "opposites attract" work. You truly require someone who is similar to you and your temperament, identity, personality.

🌟Venus in the 6th house can be attracted to somewhat overlooked or humble people, they romanticize the unseen (opposite 12th house). They like a barista, the librarian, the lab tech, anyone quietly doing their work.

⭐️Sagittarius Risings attract significant others that play multiple roles (partner, friend, teacher, critic) or they are into multiple fields (engineer who is also an artist, teacher who is also a poet). In extreme cases, you can have someone who live a double life or just often reinvents themselves.

🌟Libra Mercury often thinks in opposite ways. When they say I'm confused, it's actually when they know too much.

⭐️Gemini over the 7th house are so cerebral in a connection, that they only know how they feel once they say it out loud or write it down. You might also end up with a partner who has a twin or a sibling who looks just like your partner. In some cases, the people you commit to will change dramatically over time. On a positive side, they can show you how to be flexible, youthful and curious in ways you forgot.

🌟Aries Moons grew up in an environment where they had to self-soothe fast, fight for attention or be emotionally independent way too early. They yearn for someone to be there for them without them needing to earn it.

⭐️Also, they are actually veryy vulnerable, but randomly and in bursts, they are vulnerable with you when you least expect it. And often end up regretting it right after. You might also test people with anger, distance or sarcasm BEFORE opening up. You often have the feeling that if you show you need something, you lose power. Also, I'm sad to say it, but you guys only heal when you are alone.

🌟Gemini Descendant, you guys have a partner that is mentally quick, but emotionally inconsistent. They might randomly emotionally detach or check out.

⭐️Sun in the 6th house give such "alpha behind the curtain" vibe. They are just quietly running things behind the scenes and hold everything together due to how consistent and competent they are. You guys might lead without anyone realizing you're leading.

🌟Sun at an Aries degree (1, 13, 25) are prone to have thin hair.

⭐️ I have to say it again, that Cancer Suns are not soft caretakers. They don’t give love freely, only when you actually earned it. They also often deal with mother’s sacrificed dreams or mother’s grief, because she didn’t fulfill her dreams.

🌟 Virgo Mars has a rage that always come across as calculated rage. They time well, when they will reveal their anger for you. Don’t get fooled that it’s random. They just withdraw their energy, stop fixing your mess and use their disorganization against them.

Credit goes to Tumblr @astroismypassion

[coffee-mage-sans-caffeine]

I'd like to do an add-on to this, if I may. If you feel strongly about vaccines and you can afford to do so and have children, please start a vaccine savings account ASAP. If the CDC changes the schedule to have fewer recommended vaccines because of RFK and friends, it will not be evidence-based. We know that. What it will mean, however, is that insurance companies, which are capitalist and designed to make a profit NOT to help people, may stop paying for them. They may decide to gamble that these diseases are in low enough prevalance to simply refuse to cover them as anything other than 'optional' or 'cosmetic.' Anyone who's gone to get a mole or skin tag taken off that turned out not to be cancerous knows--insurance companies love to refuse to pay for things that are 'optional.' It's part of how they make profit for their shareholders. If the CDC changes the schedule due to political pandering, you may have to pay out of pocket for vaccinations that they've decided are 'unnecessary'. Be prepared for this, if you can. If you can't, be aware you may have a fight on your hands to get vaccines covered. If this doesn't happen, then the worst case is that you have a little nestegg if all of this ever ends. CDC recommendations are used to determine insurance coverage every day. That's why RFK is the most dangerous. It doesn't matter what medical organizations say 'no the CDC is wrong.' Insurance companies will cover the bare minimum and use any evidence they can to justify it.

FOR PARENTS OF YOUNG KIDS IN THE US!

Someone over on bluesky posted this and I figured I'd better repost it here. It's the pre-RFK 2025 vaccination schedule for babies and young children, ya know, just in case it mysteriously disappears. Save this and give it to your child's pediatrician; tell them this is the schedule you want your child on.

[priisprii]

Insatiable — K.MG & C SC

Summary :Mean mean assholes.

Warnings: dom! Seungcheol,dom! Mingyu, sub!fem reader, blow job, handjob, reader's crop top used as a blindfold, degradation,face slapping, cum swallowing, tit pinching, they are mean but you like them mean :3

Word count: 1.8 k

Read the warnings and click at your own risk and minors don't interact.

mingyu and seungcheol are two simple guys with same fucked up mentality and fantasies. they encourage each other run after things they desperately want no matter how wrong it is. They support each other. It's simple.

And you?

You were obsessed with both of them,not just at surface level like memorising thier hangout places and lurking around there or stalking them on social media. Yeah you did that all but it wasn't enough to satisfy your hunger for them.

You meticulously planned coincidence after coincidence, enrolling into the same classes as them, showing up at every party they would be and what not. To the outside world it would seem a series of coincidence just like you hoped but mingyu and seungcheol aren't as stupid and oblivious as you think they are. They know you were embodiment of lady Gaga's song paparazzi.

Seungcheol wanted to maintain distance from you, according to him you weren't the of girl who would be interested in his and mingyu's ways of mind breaking and ruining the girls they bring to bed. Too vanilla he says, how fucking wrong he was. Mingyu helped him change his mind, he knew you were a sick in the head pervert; just like them and you were expert of hiding that side of you behind your innocence filled eyes.

Nevertheless, three of you got what you all always searched for. You —two hot guys with mean and dirty mouths and huge dicks and them; a girl who is just abnormally obsessed with them. They can sometimes be the sweetest people in your life, catering to your every need, providing you with everything you demand, sometimes sneakily beating up your professor cause' he graded your paper unfairly, seungcheol never holding back a punch on guys who eyed you even for a second and mingyu pirating endless movies for you to watch in your free time. They were everything you ever wished for.

♥

A stinging slap was delivered on your face, the impact of it making you come back from your haze. Your eyes were covered with some rag which happened to be your favourite top — until seungcheol decided to tear it off.

"want us to find some other slut who can actually suck a cock properly?" Mingyu asked. annoyed.an underlying threat clear in his voice. you wanted to argue, scream and cry. your throat was all bruised up —a consequence of them using your mouth like a fleshlight from the past half an hour. they sat comfortably on couch playing whatever shitty game you had no idea about while passing you around between them like a cigarette, your knees burning and on the verge of giving up.

Body decorated with their cum, hair, chest, stomach, any part —you name it. Those sadistic assholes can't seem to get tired no matter what.sitting next to each other and conversing about all the fucked up things they are about to do with you, things that would land them in prison for sure but the worst part was—you loved it , loved each and every word, syllabus, command and insult they directed towards you, you loved it more than they could ever.

"Mingyu, be kind, That's not how we treat our fuck toys" seungcheol chides , but you could feel he's just being pretentious and you were right cause' just after few seconds you felt somone back handing you, not with sheer strength but enough to draw out a choked moan out of your lungs. "See that's how you treat erm" seungcheol chuckles followed by mingyu. They were enjoying this a little too much, having someone like you who's far too gone to think straight and allow them to treat you like an absolute rag doll. It's so fun for them to see you breaking down over and over.

Someone bought your mouth closer to their cock, again, probably Mingyu . You weren't even able to smell the cum or his scent, nose too blocked and runny— completely useless. "Now be a good and useful cock sleeve"

You nod aimlessly, licking your lips in anticipation.that wasn't enough for Mingyu though "words dollface ,words" he commands, tightening his grip around your hair. You let out a choked yes and it was enough for Mingyu to get started with you yet again.

"so beautiful yet so filthy" mingyu grunts, outlining your lips with tip of his cock, faintly coating them with your existing spit and cum. once he was satisfied enough he slapped it few times on your cheek "Need you to choke on it" , forcing his dick into your mouth, a choked noise escaped your throat as he buried himself deep touching the back of your throat roughly, he threw his head back, moaning in pure ecstasy .

He continued with his cruel pace, thrusting his hips upwards making you constantly gag and choke around his length , drool pooling around his balls. Your nails were digging into his muscular thigh, anchoring yourself with help of it as you couldn't feel any sensation in your body except the cries of your pussy —begging to be filled up with anything,cock, fingers, dildos it doesn't matter the emptiness was almost painful, clenching around air helplessly.

"mingyu slow down, she will pass out I don't wanna fuck unconscious body" seungcheol complains from side, half focused on the game and half on the porn show happening beside him. He's no better than mingyu, even worse sometimes, when seungcheol is frustrated, he takes it on you— in the most delicious way possible. Landing slaps on your ass and cunt till it's red and swollen up or making you gag around your own panties, his strange obsession with challenging you to be silent while he ruins your insides. Yeah he's no better than mingyu.

the prospect of your passed out body being used by these two men is extremely hot and intense. having your pleasure completely disregarded and thrown out ,just being a real fleshlight for their big and veiny cocks. You need to talk about this some other time with them.

"hyung, can't help it— her mouth is so warm and wet almost as good as her tight cunt" mingyu whines, his cock twitching inside your mouth as his grip on your hair becomes more rigid , a clear sign of him being close. Something about having such a big guy like Mingyu whining because of you makes your chest tight with emotion similar to happiness and pride.

Seungcheol throws the gaming console somewhere, the loud thud echoing in your ears. He takes your hand and spits on it generously before bringing it to his cock , making you wrap your palm around it, his own palm wrapped around yours. In your head which is floating in another dimension this is practically intertwining hands. almost romantic.

"you feel it baby? How hard I am? It's your fucking fault. parading around us in your slutty outfits. told you to wait for few minutes but you just don't understand " seungcheol sneers, biting his lips remembering how they even got you like this in the first place. Teasing them while they were deeply engrossed in their game, hands reaching down your shorts threatening to touch their property, that made them snap.

you whined against Mingyu's cock, sending vibrations down his spine, he pulled your head back, only his tip remaining in your mouth before slamming you down against his length in a quick motion, making you gag uncomfortably, he kept you like that, his unforgiving grip on your hair making you unable to move while seungcheol made you give him a hand job, guiding each of your moments. You were overwhelmed, not sure where to focus; on Mingyu's pulsating length or Seungcheol's painfully hard cock, unsure whether to cry or scream, eyes blinded by the blindfold.

"fuck cumming" Mingyu slurred thrusting his hips upwards one last time before cumming inside your mouth. Ropes of thick, creamy white pooling around your tongue.

" Dare you waste any drop slut" Mingyu rasps still coming down from his high. " She won't gyu, she needs cum like oxygen, right slut?" Seungcheol comments, seeing you swallow his bestfriend's cum like your life depends on it while having you fist his cock with your tiny hand made him so feral, he has never had such a perfect girl at his disposal. Seungcheol found his own orgasm near but he didn't feel like wasting his cum , it belonged in deepest corner of your cunt.

Finally after few seconds or minutes mingyu decides to let you breathe, pulling you away from his cock. you look like you walked straight out his favourite porn; spit and cum smeared all over your face and dripping down your breast. he looks at seungcheol, both being proud of each other to see your defiled state. "Pathetic whore" seungcheol groans.

Seungcheol reluctantly lets go of your hand which was timidly rubbing against cock. He comes near, yanking the excuse of a blindfold off your face, sharp lights hitting you at once, vision blurry due to tears. Mingyu gathers the tears around your eye bags carefully scoops with his two fingers, then puts it in his mouth. The simple action making your pussy needy with desire.

"please touch me" you beg, voice unfamiliar to your own self. your knees finally give out, ass hitting the floor and sitting pathetically. Your headspace was all mushy and soft, blurry vision drinking up their visuals. their upper body was fully exposed,sweat glistening down their skin which you might lick happily if they gave you permission to do so. "touch me please, anyone" you whimpered again.

seungcheol hmms, like he's thinking deep about something before he smirks, getting down on the floor at your level . His hand moves to your exposed breast, carelessly pinching the perky sensitive nipple. "Poor baby, dying to have her desperate pussy filled" seungcheol sings in a patronizing way, continuing his cruel torture on your breast, cupping and pinching the poor bud till it turns into angry shade of red.

"mingyu what do you think? Should we fuck this slut or leave her here all exposed and dripping on the floor like a broken cum dump?" seungcheol leaves the question hanging in the air, slapping your right tit, an evil smirk dancing on his face.

"please, don't leave please I am —" your words were cut off by Seungcheol's slap on your cheek, eyebrow raised, looking at you with disapproving glare.

"are you mingyu dumb slut?" he asks, massaging the area he just hit previously.

"sorry" you mumble, voice barely audible.

Mingyu cooes, feeling bad for you, just a tiny bit, he gets down on the floor, pulling you closer, your back pressed to his chest. hand circling around your neck lightly.

"she's begging, it's only right decision to fuck her hyung till she's begging us to stop" mingyu says tightening his hold around your neck, hand moving down between your legs, moving between your folds and collecting your wetness. " she's so fucking wet" mingyu says, bringing his fingers up near seungcheol, which Seungcheol proudly puts in his mouth, groaning at your taste. He sucks them clean.

"let's take this to our bedroom" seungcheol says, he cups your cheek tenderly"shall we Love?" He asks, masking the lust behind his eyes, mind corrupted with all the possible positions he's about to put you in.You got yourself insatiable freaks who would always stay hungry for your taste.

A/N: I have so many evil ideas for this au .would you all like to read them?

[rafeslvbug]

introducing…cia!rafe

back to basics!! (physical)

height: 6”4, intimidating for younger officers. would definitely use it to his advantage though, lift you up while kissing, or to reach things from high shelves. have you on his lap so you can be levelled, lean his arm on your head.

build: 200lbs. veiny and back muscles top priority. would participate in all those pull up/chin up challenges back in training.

age: mid thirties. experienced, lets everyone knows it. when he arrives on base, they only need one look at his face to know he’s superiority. they bend over backwards for him.

looks!! (specific)

scars and war wounds: bullet wound in his lower abdomen, that he got a week before your first year wedding anniversary during an attempt to take down a large cartel. always has bruises on his arms, scratches up them and his back too. bullet skimming his skin on his top left shoulder, and below on his upper arm too.

badge: never takes it off. always dangling round his neck, under his shirt, or tucked into his pocket with his wallet. always prepared to take it out if need be, flashing it when he has to. would honestly shove the badge in your mouth if you spoke too much.

personality

paranoid: rafe is always cautious. when you go shopping, walks in the park, restaurant dates. who knows what spies there could be? and it’s justified– on one occasion there really was someone who tried to take you from him, and rafe didn’t let you out the house without him for three weeks. drove you to work, kept an eye on you, drove you home. closed all the blinds, gave you a course on how to notice the people against him, always watching out the windows.

decisive: makes decisions immediately. they’re not uninformed, he always gets the facts first, then makes his choice. but he doesn’t hesitate– says it’s how you end up getting caught. can’t pick a restaurant? he can do it. can’t figure out which order to do chores in? barking out orders like he’s talking to his officers. luckily, you’re a nurse, you often have to make split second decisions, so he doesn’t have to worry about indecisiveness in dire situations. he doesn’t like people who do that.

firm: no arguments, you might want to argue, but there’s no chance for it. he makes a choice, he sticks by it, you can’t change his mind– for better or for worse. might occasionally interrupt you if you try to counter back at him, tends to forget he’s not always in action, and treats you like one of his men/women.

dislikes

ties. makes him feel scratchy at the neck, dangly and get in his way. can’t wear his badge when he wears them and has to wear full collared tops too. wears it to important briefings or meetings. always makes you tie it for him, because if not, he’ll spend hours trying to perfect it in the mirror.

when he turns up at a military base and they don’t show him the respect he’s owed. he’s the highest ranking officer wherever he goes, and expects to be treated as such.

when you try to get him to quit his job. take it easy. he’s never taken anything easy, he wants to fight for his country, protect people. he believes he has to do this.

your teary voice when he’s badly injured on the plane back, holding a bullet wound down, telling you to tell his son how much he loves him– because he doesn’t say it often. telling you to be strong, that he might not make it. the sobs you bite back that hurt his heart more than the bleeding.

likes

missions going his way. success. protecting his country. stopping harmful organisations. doing what’s right.

coming home to you. your son. the way you inspect him when he comes in, scanning for every injury. he doesn’t like the coddling, but he loves that you care.

showering with you. sleeping with you. lunch with you. mundane things that are drastically different when he’s on missions. he showers hardly, no time, no space. beds are small and cramped. lunch is rationed, quick and on the go. but with you, he can take his time. do things properly.

family and people-specific hcs

his nicknames for you: sweet thing, baby, darlin’

his nicknames for your son: little agent, kid, son

he’ll always come home if he can avoid going to a hospital, rather being patched up by you than some other random doctor. you’re his personal nurse at this point.

would constantly assess his son growing up to see if he’s cia material. you’re forever scolding him for it, but he does it unintentionally. watching him carefully while he plays with his toys, overanalysing each comment he makes like it could be something insightful.

[shannoneichorn]

Ooh! Pick me! This is the path I've started down and want to get better at.

Both my churches have been participating in our city's Pride parade the last several years. I go with my roommate from a mission trip to our denominatuon's churches in Cambodia--and her wife. And one of my LGBT family members. And some allies from work. And meet up with my LGBT friends from work, who join different parts of the parade.

The longer I live, the clearer it's become that the public school sex ed I had was wholly inadequate. The US is actively harming itself by not investing in better.

I adore my atheist husband and atheist/agnostic/pagan friends. I know my denomination doesn't ascribe to universal salvation, but it's the only thing that makes sense to me.

God fashions variety. No reason we should stamp it out of cultures. I have a problem with trying to convert people instead of gently inviting them to join the community. My ideal church would be a gathering place for all with a subset of activities dedicated to spiritual support/worshiping in community, and I think both my churches are partway there.

It blows my mind that any Christian who grew up hearing about being stewards of the Earth would support environmental harm and environmental injustice. But you know, the church is full of all kinds of people, some of whom are great at cognitive dissodence and terrible at logic. (They're allowed to be wrong.)

I'm part of the second largest Protestant denomination in the US (at least in 2013--a lot has changed since then). On the one hand, it's the denomination I grew up in, and there's a certain amount of lazy comfort in just sticking with it. On the other hand, I also stuck with it because it explicitly acknowledges science and rationalism. God gave us minds and access to tools with which to explore Creation--like science and math and social sciences and literature (since we are part of Creation, too, and lit is great for exploring ourselves).

There is a documented history around how the Bible and translations developed. Many human hands were involved, and humans are limited not only by their own biases but also by the knowledge that was available to them at the time and the culture in which they lived. The Bible can be divinely inspired, but I keep thinking that its components were, first and foremost, written for the audiences of their times. It's amazing how it can still be so meaningful today, but not all the issues of today are addressed within--and they shouldn't be. An active faith requires synthesis of learning and applications to new situations in ways that are consistent with the Spirit of love and compassion that the Bible describes.

I...haven't encountered antisemitism at church...? Like Muslims, those are people we share a distant religious heritage with. They're like second cousins. Maybe treat everyone with kindness and respect, the way Jesus would? This...should not be hard to grok. (I feel like I could do better here, but at least it's a start.)

I'm jumping on this opportunity to shout about this, because it's been bothering me. Yes, we need to be louder, but also... There are reasons why I'm not.

Christians are doing so much harm right now, and I don't want to be associated with it. Churches have done so much harm, and I don't want to remind the people around me who have finally gotten out of it. (Part of me thinks, my church would never! But churches are communities of imperfect people, and at the very least, wherever people gather, there will be drama and hurt feelings. And denial when abuses do happen. And also, many churches haven't been on the forefront of all we've learned about psychology in the last 50 years, and there are also harmful cultural habits where communities haven't rooted them out.)

And also, I want my friends, neighbors, and acquaintances to believe I'm safe to be around. Evangelizing does not accomplish that goal. Caring for people has to come first, or what's the point?

Thank you for this call to be louder. I shall now go back to hiding under my rock/bushel.

In general, I think it's currently really important for progressive Christians to be very loud about being both progressive and deeply religious Christians, and for everyone else fighting for progressive values to be supportive of them doing just that. I know that's like, idk, counter-intuitive or cringe or whatever, but seriously folks, the alternative is that progressive Christians have to be quiet about their faith to be accepted within broader secular and interfaith progressive advocacy, which means that the regressive asshole Christians (a) sound that much louder and (b) dominate the USian religious landscape all the more. That's a problem, for all of us.

We need people pushing back within the faith as well as outside of it, because that destroys any edifice that this is about Christianity and religious freedom.

You can be a devout Christian and also:

Openly, proudly, and without being forced to remain celibate or otherwise limit your full expression of self, identify as LGBTQ+ or be a supportive ally.

Advocate for full reproductive autonomy and comprehensive sex education.

Love and support people of other religious groups, non-religious people and/or atheists, by choosing to believe that a truly loving God would not pursue anything less than universal salvation.

Stand against evangelism and proselytizing as they have thus far been interpreted and used, because there are ways to interpret the Great Commission that don't promote colonialism and cultural genocide.

A steward of the earth, protecting God's beautiful creation and lovingly tending to it as the unique and incredible gift that it is.

A believer in science, rationalism, and human progress as part of God's divine plan for humanity.

A believer in history and someone who understands that the Bible can be both divinely given and open to interpretation (no really)(if you're confused, please talk to a knowledgeable traditional Jew)

An ally to Jews, who stands against supercessionism and antisemitism in the church.

And in before regressive Christians come shouting at me that (1) what do I know, I'm a Jew and (2) no lol you can't because of ___ reason:

My source is that I've personally met and talked to Christians of great faith and integrity - people who embody the closest forms of kindness I've seen to what Jesus himself advocated - who are each of these things.

It is 100% possible; you just choose to believe otherwise.

[penelopehere]

Being A Demon HCs With Saja Boys

Jinu

The only demons he’s familiar with are the ones Gwi-Ma sent to help him on his mission

Otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered to remember who you were, only focusing on getting his memory erased

Would only go out of his way to interact with you if you acted out and proved to be a threat to his plans

He would get reports of a demon purposefully stopping others from harvesting souls and often going rouge, disappearing for periods at a time

At first he’d be absolutely pissed, sending others to hunt you down and get rid of you

However, the more you manage to evade them, the curiouser he got

There was no reason you should be standing in the way of Gwi-Ma, and the fact that you managed to act out despite his voice in your head astounded him

That’s when he decides to seek you out himself

He’d instantly go in to attack, trying to see if the stories he heard about you were true

Would be making a lot of snide comments as well, still annoyed at the fact that you were in his way

When you managed to evade him over and over again, disappearing the moment he turned his back towards you, he’d be a lot more open to just getting you to talk

Would act innocent at first, raising his hands when he saw you and clarifying that he was alone

He would doubt that you managed to escape Gwi-Ma’s voice, asking what you had to gain from acting out like this

Would be in heavy denial about a demon being able to go off and be free like you were, since he wasn’t able to

Eventually however, he begins to wonder if it was really possible and he could do it as well

Begins to manipulate you a lot, trying to get you to open up about your past and reveal your inner shame as well as how you managed to overcome it

Would also open up to you, only revealing parts of his history since he was mainly doing this so you’d let down your guard

Sometimes uses his tiger and bird to find you to convince you to meet up and trust him more

However, when he sees how genuine you are with not wanting to be like the other demons, his behaviour shifts

His becomes more caring, empathizing with you a lot more and purposefully warning you of upcoming attacks so you weren’t anywhere near them

If any other demon found you and tried to hurt you or bring you back to Gwi-Ma, he would quickly get rid of them

Wanted you to be his secret

Even the other members of the group weren’t fully aware of his relationship with you, only knowing that a rogue demon took up a lot of his attention

But the moment he realises how close he was getting to you, he’d immediately distance himself and not give any explanation as to why

You’d have to be the one to confront him, asking what went wrong and why he’s acting so weird

He’d then snap back at you, saying not all demons could live your life and it wasn’t easy to just change

From there he would ignore your advances, purposefully avoiding you if you ever tried to seek him out again

It’d only be during a confrontation, where you were in some sort of danger with demons or hunters, would he step in and bring you away from the fight

He’d be checking you over for injuries, practically ignoring your words as you continuously asked why he abandoned you

It’d take a lot of coaxing, but eventually he’d confess he cared too much about you and didn’t want to feel vulnerable

It’d be best if you didn’t try to pry any further, cause he wouldn’t want to explain himself

From there you’d have to take control of the relationship, with him being less sure of his actions now that he realized his feelings for you came from a genuine place

If you were patient though, things would eventually evolve into something more loving

Neither of you would officially acknowledge it, with the words ‘dating’ accidentally slipping out one day and neither of you correcting it

Would be a lot more teasing, being relentless with his playful jabs and insults

Often times enjoys spending quiet time with you, with both of you doing your own thing but still touching in some way

Loves to explain things to you, especially new things he’s learned about the human world that he knows you’re not familiar with

Sometimes, in more intimate moments, he’ll open up about his history with his family and how much regret he has from it

You’ll have to be the one to constantly pull him from Gwi-Ma’s voice

Doesn’t fully stray away from his plan to erase his memories, so he tries to avoid the topic with you since he doesn’t want to argue

Is infatuated with your markings, never even considering demon traits could be beautiful until he met you

Would enjoy training together to develop your demon abilities, since it was fun but also so he knows you’ll be safe when he’s gone

Will also make sure you have access to souls to feed on if you needed it, regardless of your opinion of harming humans

Would do everything in his power to make sure Gwi-Ma never got a hold on you again, even considering turning against the overlord if it came to it

Baby

Often goes off and does his own thing away from the group, so getting his attention even as a fellow demon would be difficult

However if you also had a rebellious side he’d be at least a little intrigued

Like if you wandered off during missions and overall just didn’t care that much about Jinu or Gwi-Ma’s plan

Just toeing the line between doing the bare minimum and being a liability, so you managed to fly under the radar for a while

If you also liked to mess with others, whether it’s demons or humans, he’d be even more interested in you

Would do whatever it took to get a reaction out of you

Followed you around constantly, and would act even worse if you ignored him

He’d repeat questions over and over again like a toddler, or poke you until you acknowledged him

Would definitely tease you a lot, making fun of how you basically worked for him and that he was the reason you could get souls

From this he would also try to pry into your personal life, curious about who you were and how you became a demon

However, anytime you even considered doing something rebellious, he would be right by your side and force himself to be apart of it

There’d be no point in trying to stop him, since you were both equally stubborn and would spend hours arguing with each other

The other members would notice his interest in you, especially with how often he wandered off to go find you

Eventually would force you to come with him, dragging you to rehearsals, meetings etc

Anytime you tried to leave, he’d basically drag you back and place you in your own little corner to chill in

The group didn’t care that much, slightly relieved Baby had someone to focus all his mischievous energy on

That was until the two of you teamed up and began pranking the other members

Then everyone began to be a lot more cautious if you were anywhere near each other

Neither of you talked about your emotions that much, mainly hanging out in silence or planning your next stunt

There was no doubt you guys had a connection though, not that either of you would admit to it

The only way something would change in your relationship is if you had to leave the human world, whether that be because you got in too much trouble or if the mission no longer needed you

Baby would try everything in his power to make sure you could stay with him

Would be lowkey about it, going to other members to casually ask if they could do anything or just full on threatening lower ranked demons in secret

Would go as far as getting rid of other demons so you could replace them and stay

Even considered going back to the demon world with you, but the other members wouldn’t allow it

Eventually you’d confront him on this, not wanting to make a big deal out of having to leave since you were unsure about his feelings towards you

This would force him to accidentally confess, causing the two of you to go silent for a couple moments

He’d ask if you felt the same way, and when you admitted to it, neither of you would know how to act at first

To break the tension Baby would probably begin teasing you about your ‘crush’ on him until you did it back

From then on the two of you would be inseparable, the members having no choice but to make sure you stayed in the human world

If they didn’t then Baby would leave and the mission would be put at risk

He stays by your side no matter what, basically hovering around you since he finds comfort in your presence

In more private settings, he loves to have you resting against one another

Would develop the most insane tricks to scare humans, even incorporating these acts into performances or interviews sometimes

Also uses it to get souls, getting satisfaction out of the torment they experience

The two of you also get scolded the most out of the group

Loves to make posts with you, even showing off your markings sometimes saying it was just ‘makeup’

Even does this with your fangs and eyes on occasion, loving your demon form and enjoying how risky it was just revealing it on the internet

If you ever felt insecure about being a demon, or if Gwi-Ma’s voice became too overwhelming, he’d try to reassure you with his actions

Like by calling you dumb for even thinking such a thing, while pulling you closer and draping his arm around you as he rested his chin on your head

Romance

He practically obsesses over getting attention from fans in the human world, mainly using demons to further push his image as an idol

So it’d be hard for him to develop a genuine connection with you if you were just assisting the, in the mission

However, if you were someone back in the demon world that knew him before he became a Saja Boy, he would remember you

The two of you only interacted a couple times, too busy with surviving and finding ways to get souls

However, the kindness and respect you showed him in those rare moments still left an impression

Automatically places you in high regard because of it

When he got put on Jinu’s mission, he managed to get you assigned with them

It gave him an excuse to spend more time together and he was eager to get to know you more

Would use his charming personality as a front since it was so successful in getting human fans

Used you as a ‘stand in’ for fans and interviewers, telling you pick up lines and constantly touching you in some way in an attempt to catch your interest

Even tried to help you develop your own human form, making sure you guys has matching styles

Everything he did felt disingenuous at first, feeling like he was just trying to manipulate you into liking him

While in reality, Romance would overthink constantly about how you perceived him and what kind of person you wanted him to be

Everyone in the group was well aware of his little crush on you, constantly teasing him about it since he acted so fake with you

This would make him consider being more vulnerable with, even if the very thought of doing so frightened him

So at some point, when the two of you were alone, he would open up to the stress he faces because of this mission and Gwi-Ma’s voice

He used it as a way to explain why he was hesitant to be sincere when you first met, feeling insecure about his true personality

It would take a while for you to fully let your guard down, still unsure if anything he was telling you was true or if he had some ulterior motive

But eventually you’d see he was being genuine, allowing you to develop a proper relationship with him

You’d also open up about hearing Gwi-Ma’s voice in your head, the two of you supporting each other and talking it out whenever things got really bad

He’d definitely be the one to confess, planning everything out to the smallest detail and getting the other members to help him make sure it was perfect

He’d do all the stereotypical things, like giving you roses, lighting candles, taking a walk with you in the moonlight

However at the end of the night, all his plans go out the window

After looking into your eyes, he knew he would do anything to make sure you were happy

He told you how he felt about you, that you were different from anyone else that he met and how you made him feel things he didn’t think were possible

Around you he felt confident in who he was and loved, despite being a demon

After hearing your response, saying you felt the same way, he’d be so overcome with emotion that he’d just hold onto you; not wanting to let go

Now that you were dating, he was lot less extravagant with the PDA since he feels more secure with you

Still likes to be touching at all times though so he knows you’re there

Also keeps on flirting with fans, taking his role in the group very seriously and wanting the Saja Boys to succeed

However reassures you though that he belongs with you, through both his actions and words

Especially since he can’t go out with you while being overly affectionate, due to his role as the ‘flirt’ of the group

Is constantly checking on your wellbeing, making sure you were handling being in the human world well and had enough souls to feast on

Becomes a lot more secure with his demon form since he loves the markings and fangs you have

However he does enjoy pretending to human with you, loving how you let him style your appearance

On special occasions he finds ways to go dates with you in public, charming his way out of it when confronted during interviews and fan meets

Abby

To get his attention you’d have to be on the team somehow and working closely with him

So your role would most likely be one of the demons that follows the group at all times, acting as a form of protection in case any hunters come by or if human fans want to see them when they’re busy

He would mainly interact with you by making a few side comments, saying he could protect everyone himself because of how strong he was

It’d only be after seeing you in battle would he start to take you seriously

Would constantly ask you to spar with him, taunting you if you kept saying no

Eventually he’d just try to sneak attack you, getting frustrated when you’d just disappear or ignore him

If you fought back he’d be ecstatic, giving it his all and expecting you to do the same

Losing would make him distraught, immediately demanding a rematch

However if he won, don’t expect him to ever let you forget it

Would probably be so annoying that you instigated the next sparring match

From then on he’d subconsciously try to get your validation by trying to be better than you at things

No matter how small the task, he’d insist he could beat you at it

Basically everything became a competition, and he would spend most of his free time just being around you because of it

Everyone in the group probably realised that he liked you before he did and they’d tease him relentlessly about it

Out of principle he’d deny it, sounding like a little kid throwing a tantrum

However if you ended up finding out about this, most likely by overhearing one of the members saying it, he’d get a lot more flustered

Began stuttering and backtracking on all his words, not truly knowing how he felt

You’d have to take control of the conversation, admitting your feeling first so he could calm down

Honestly short circuits, not talking for a few moments as he focuses on your words and forgets everything he was thinking

Tries to be causal when he says he likes you too, eventually saying he expected it because of how strong he was

Still tries to constantly impress you, however now it’s more so about skills and talents he has

This mainly includes his cooking, always wanting you to try whatever he makes

Will take your opinion very seriously, especially since you weren’t familiar with human food and he wants your experience with it to be perfect

Is okay with redoing things over and over again until they taste just right

Would fall even deeper in love if you asked him to teach you how to cook, brushing it off by bragging about how he’s the best teacher you’ll ever have

Also has you help with a few of his dance moves, loving how you can keep up with him cause your both demons

Is constantly hugging you and putting his arm over your shoulder, almost like he’s trying to draw you in closer whenever you’re nearby

Also continues to spar with you a lot, playfully jabbing you and escalating it to the point where one of you is pinned to the group

But he is more open to both of you improving your fighting technique, taking the time to show each other effective attacks and defences

He still has a short temper, often letting his demon attributes coming out when he gets mad, however he appreciates that you can match his energy and stand up for yourself

Also loves seeing your demon attributes getting more enhanced when you get pissed, loving how unapologetic you are with being inhumane

He thinks it makes you seem more authentic

The only reason he would try to convince you to have a human form is so he could go out in public with you and show yourself off as a power couple

Also tries to do the same thing around demons, bragging about how the two of you could probably defeat the hunters by yourself

But if you ever did doubt yourself, whether that be because of your own thoughts of Gwi-Ma’s voice, he’d do his best to reassure you

Would give you praise, stating every compliment as if it was a fact before finding something fun or relaxing to do to take your mind off things

Mystery

He usually stays quiet in large groups, so you wouldn’t really catch his interest by being a demon that hangs around the members

He also didn't make that many connections in the demon world, so he wouldn’t know you from there either

Most likely you’re a soul collector, going between both realms and eventually catching his eye

This is because he found it interesting how you managed to blend into the shadows and disappear, similarly to how how did

He’d follow you every now and then, keeping an eye on how you lure humans away and find them in moments of weakness

You wouldn’t even notice him at first because of how quiet he was

At most you’d notice something in the corner of your eye, or feel like someone was watching you

However, when you looked around, no one would be there

The only way you’d properly meet is if he decided to approached you out of sheer interest and curiosity, appearing at your side and accidentally scaring you

You recognised him of course, with the Saja Boys being the whole reason as to why demons like yourself could collect souls

He wouldn’t say much, merely staring at you and then immediately disappearing in a cloud of smoke

These interactions would get slightly longer and longer overtime, with him eventually just walking behind you and hovering while you did your job

You never really asked him to leave you alone, since he rarely interfered with what you were doing

The only times he’d step in is if you were about to get caught

If it was by a human, he would come from behind and take the soul from their body, before retreating into the shadows once again

However if it was a hunter, he would pull you into a hiding spot, even going as far as transporting away with you if he thought things were too risky

On some more rare occasions though, you’d also see him tormenting a few of his own humans while you were out hunting

Sometimes to steal their soul, but often just scaring them to the point of tears

The first time you heard him spoke was simultaneously fighting and calming, not expecting him to actually say anything but strangely loving the way his voice sounded

He still didn’t speak much though, only saying a few words every now and then

Because of this, whenever you guys were around each other, it’d be a comfortable silence or you’d be talking to yourself

You’d most likely open up to him on accident because of this, not even fully realising that your guard was down until much later

Despite his eccentric nature, you’d still find it calming to just be around him

From this an odd friendship would form, the two of you finding solace in the other’s presence despite not truly knowing much about each other

Eventually you’d hang out with him in front of the other members, just sitting in silence and doing your own thing

However the group didn’t question it

They had a small suspicion he was doing something like this, but they would have also believed he just found a stray cat he really liked

You would slowly begin staying at their house more and more, everyone else just leaving the two of you alone since you seemed to be getting along

The only way your relationship would move forward is if another member questioned if you guys were dating

Neither of you knew how to answer that, just staring at each other

You decided to have a conversation about it when you guys were alone, finally saying that you both liked one another

At first you thought nothing in your relationship would change, immediately turning around to walk back towards the house

However, when Mystery reached out and gave you a back hug, holding you from behind for a few moments, you were glad that some things were going to change for the better

He would become much more affectionate in his own way

Always having his arm draped over you somehow or has your pinkies locked together

Loves helping you collect souls, especially when you play with the humans for a bit first before devouring them

Personally prefers his demon form over his human one, so is most likely in it when he’s around you cause it makes him more comfortable

However he would also enjoy helping you develop a human form, implementing it when you guys go hunting

If you ever became too overwhelmed with being a demon, specifically because of Gwi-Ma’s voice, he would quietly take you into his arms and whisper words of reassurance if you needed it; promising he would keep you safe

[bannahhananah]

Also let's not forget that going against ICE isn't against the law in criminal court. Citizenship would under the umbrella of civil circuit courts, so if say someone did not go with ICE orders, they are not technically breaking the law (even if they are not a citizen, they are not commiting a federal Crime). And to arrest someone, Legally ICE would need a warrant or an order that came from the jurisdiction of a judge who gave them the Temporary order to bring someone into custody. (I am not putting this here to say that shitty things aren't happening to those who show up to the civil circuit court cases and are being Illegally detained, I am simply expounding the differences here so people know better ways to take action in case they find themselves having to dispute with ICE)

All of that to say, if you ask them for a warrant and then say something along the lines of "well let me double check with you under the local authorities who have jurisdiction and who would love to be involved if a crime was being commited", then they typically change their fucking tune bc they are all cowards who are depending on people being disorganized and scared of Them for them to illegally detain. Do not fall for their fear tactics, they are all fucking losers if they are willingly going with the orange fuckass's hamfisted attempt at making us Italy circa WW2 🫶❤️🫶 (also fuck the police as a whole but I'm more than happy to use them if it means ICE can be drug through the fucking mud and drained dry of time and resources)

at the time when anne frank was arrested, she was breaking the law. the people who helped hide her and other targets of the nazis were also breaking the law.

that is where it leads when you justify state violence. “if you didn’t want oppression you shouldn’t have broken the law” is an attitude that leads directly to fascism, and it rings entirely hollow from those who also support a leader that flagrantly violated the law but waived the consequences by virtue of power possession.

[hearts4mica]

Hi can you pls make a part 3 of the perfect pretty girl? I really like your stuff!

Stupid with Love

Yan Batfam x Popular (Teruhashi) Reader!

Part 1 Part 2 Masterlist

Batfam finds out about Saiki.

———————————————————————————

———————————————————————————

After a failed attempt on declaring your love to Saiki you ressigned yourself and just decided to sleep the whole afternoon. Afterall you didn’t want to hangout with your siblings on Valentine’s day.

———————————————————————————

7:00pm

The door creaks open and a small shadow from the hall slowly walks into your room.

Damian emerges from the shadows only being seen through your small night light.

Damian was not stupid.

He was Robin, the bloodson of Batman and a detective. Of course he knew you lied.

As much as he wanted to believe you his dearest older sister he had to know every detail about your personal life. It’s not weird if your safety is in danger!

Okay. ‘Throw away’. So he should check your trash.

On top of your trashcan there sat. A small heartshaped pink letter. ‘To Saiki 💙’. Who the hell is Saiki?

———————————————————————————

7:15 pm

Batcave. Minutes before patrol

Damian storms to the batcave where everyone is getting ready. “We have a problem!”

“(Name) was going to confess today to a guy whose name is Saiki! SAIKI!” Damian hands your letter to Bruce and everyone squeezes arround him to read the letter.

To Saiki 💙

That was more than enough to get the whole batfam in chaos.

Bruce was the first to speak. “Babs we need all the information on this so called ‘Saiki’ immediately.” His voice low but demanding. “On it Bats”

“Change of plans tonight. Dick and Tim you’ll go to his house and look for blackmail.”

“Hey why can’t i go?!” Damian whined. “I’m the one who found the card! Why would you trust Drake above me!”

“Damian you’re impulsive. You’re not going and neither is Jason, and it’s final.”

———————————————————————————

Damian’s POV

8:30pm

‘I can’t trust Grayson nor Drake. To not mess things up. I’ll go there myself and look around and have a word with this ‘Saiki guy’.

———————————————————————————

Saiki’s POV

Back to 7:15 pm

This is exactly why i avoided (Name). I now only not just have her stalking me, but now i have all of this city’s vigilantes stalking me around.

I’ll just have to pretend to be asleep. What an annoyance.

———————————————————————————

The next day you woke up to Jason opening your window.

“Jason leave me alonnee it’s too early.!”

“So Saiki huh?”

WHAT?

After quickly getting out of bed and checking your trashcan you were not met with the letter you wrote to Saiki

“Goodluck downstairs”

Damian must have came here last night. That little brat! Always ruining everything.

“Jay. Saiki and i- we are just friends okay?! Just- don’t try to find things between us because there is nothing! And there will be nothing ever!” Did i really just say that? “Please just don’t hurt him. He matters to me.”

“Fine. But if he hurts you-“ “Which he won’t because we’re friends!” “I’ll murder him on cold blood myself.”

———————————————————————————

“He can try.”

———————————————————————————

A/N: Thank you for readiiiiingg!!! Now that i’m oficially on summer vacation i’ll try to post more fics so my request box is opeeennn!!

Masterlist

[sapphicstrawcore]

ᰔ MotherSevika!au: headcanons pt1

masterlist ᰔ pt1, pt2

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ When they’re still a baby :

Sevika never imagined herself as a mother. The thought of having a child—her child—felt impossible. Her life had been all violence, survival, smoke, and war. Nothing gentle. Nothing lasting.

It’s not like Sevika suddenly becomes soft. She doesn’t forget the back-alley fights, the broken jaws, the blood on her boots. She doesn’t regret every bruise she gave or every cigar she lit with a smirk after a win. That was her. And in a way, it always will be.

But when the baby is born, something shifts in her. Completely.

She’s still stoic, still quiet, still built like she could crush steel with her bare hands—but around her baby? She’s soft. Not loud or overly emotional, but present. Attentive in a way that surprises even her.

She holds them like they’re the most precious thing in the world. And to her, they are.

She’s not naturally patient, and some nights are harder than others. Crying at 3 AM, spit-up on her shirt, tiny fists tugging at her hair—it pushes her limits. But she never walks away. She takes a deep breath, grits her teeth, and tries again.

It’s not easy for her to express love in words but she shows it in actions. A hand resting protectively on the crib. A bottle already warm before the baby wakes. A lullaby hummed so low it’s barely there, but always in tune.

She swore she wouldn’t pass down the violence of her world—but if anyone ever tried to hurt her baby? Let’s just say they’d disappear quietly. Permanently.

The first time the baby cries, Sevika freezes. Not because she doesn’t know what to do—she’s read the books, asked the nurses, watched carefully—but because the sound hits her like a punch to the chest. It’s raw. Fragile. Real. And for a moment, she’s paralyzed by the weight of it. “Oh, this is mine. And I can’t go back.” This tiny, helpless human is depending on her—and Sevika, the woman who once left blood in her wake, doesn’t know if she deserves it.

The first laugh hits her like a bullet straight through the heart.

It’s sudden—just a breathy giggle when Sevika makes a dumb face she didn’t even mean to make—but it stops her cold. She stares for a second, like she can’t believe what she just heard. Then she smiles. Not one of her rare, tired smirks—an actual smile. Wide. Uncontrolled. Kind. She never knew something so small could shake her so hard.

At night, when the baby’s asleep on her chest, Sevika stays alert. Hyper-alert. Every creak, every shadow outside the window, every memory crawling back from her past—it all plays in her head. She knows exactly what monsters look like. She’s been one. But she never lets it show. The baby only sees warmth. The quiet safety of her heartbeat. The rise and fall of her breathing. Sevika never lets the fear in her eyes reach her arms.

Her mechanical arm had always been a symbol. Of survival. Of violence. Of who she had to become to stay alive. But when her baby first reaches out for her and hesitates—fingers curling away from the cold, metallic limb—something in Sevika breaks.

She says nothing at first. Just quietly lowers her hand, tries not to show it stings. But that night, long after the baby’s asleep, she stares at her reflection. At the wires, the plating, the hum of Zaunite tech that used to feel like power. Now, it just feels like a reminder.

A few weeks later, the new arm arrives. Softer design. Skin-tone casing. Less sharp edges. Less war. She doesn’t tell anyone why she changed it. Most people assume it’s about public image—Zaun’s councilwoman trying to look “cleaner” now that peace is fragile after the war. But that’s not it. It’s for her kid. So they’ll never flinch when she reaches out. So her touch feels more like a mother’s, less like a weapon.

The first time they grab the new hand without fear, giggling as they chew on her fingers like teething babies do, Sevika almost cries. She doesn’t. Of course. She doesn’t allow herself that. But her throat tightens, and she holds them just a little closer.

She still drinks sometimes. Still smokes—less, but the craving never really leaves. She still curses when she stubs her toe and still throws a mean left hook if someone touches what’s hers. But the difference now? She doesn’t need to prove anything. Doesn’t need to be scary and a soldier now, even if she’ll always be. The war’s over. She didn’t win, she survived. And for the first time, she has something worth living for that is not Zaun’s freedom.

She still has a bad temper. Still glares a little too hard. Still walks like a storm in a hallway. But when her kid’s in the room, she watches herself. Not because she’s pretending—but because she knows what fear looks like in a child’s eyes. She’s put it there before. And she’ll never be the reason her kid feels it.

Sevika doesn’t do high-pitched voices. No sing-song tones or silly baby talk. You do it perfectly for her. She speaks in that deep, gravelly tone—just a little softer, like her words were dipped in velvet but never sugar.

“You hungry, kid?” or “C’mon, we’re not crying over that.” “Look at you. Walkin’ like you own the place.”

Her voice is low calm and steadying. The kind of voice that makes a baby feel safe, even if it doesn’t come with coos or rhymes.

She carries the baby everywhere in one arm like it’s second nature. On her hip, against her chest, over her shoulder. Doesn’t matter if she’s got paperwork in the other hand or a cigar tucked behind her ear—she moves through life one-handed like it’s no big deal.

She’s not overly expressive, but her baby becomes an expert at reading her little tells: the way her mouth twitches when they do something funny, or how she raises one brow when they try to lie. Her love is in the tiny things—hand on the back, tucking them in without a word, brushing hair out of their face before sleep.

Maybe her smile lines shows more, and not out of exhaustion or frustration this time. It’s from joy and love.

When the baby starts crawling, Sevika follows quietly—not panicking, not hovering, just… watching. Ready. Always within reach. She lets them take risks, but never alone.

When they start talking, Sevika listens like every word is sacred—even the nonsense ones. She doesn’t laugh at them, never makes them feel small. Instead, she nods seriously and says things like: “Yeah? That so?” “You gonna tell me more, or is that it?” And her baby talks more because they know she’s listening.

One day, her child might ask about the scars. The fights. The stories people whisper about her in Zaun. And she’ll tell them the truth. “I was good at hurting people,” she’ll say. “But I’m better at loving you.”

dividers: @/cursed-carmine

taglist: @lonerslug

[levanterhaze]

── spring into summer, bangchan

♡ 󠀬󠀬dad!bangchan x actress!reader: angst (a lot of it) and heartbreak.

♡ synopsis ― You left him behind to chase your dreams, your best friend, your first love. Now you're back, and everything's changed. He's a father. You're a star. But some flames never die. Maybe it waits.

♡ [7,6k] & notes ― I would like to express my gratitude for all the love you have shown for this series. I write it with great affection, hoping that you will truly enjoy every word I write. In this chapter, we will learn a little about the protagonist's and Chan's past and what really happened between them. The part in italics refers to their past.

chapters: CHAPTER O1

CHAPTER O2

You never minded being seen in public, but you still took precautions, sunglasses, a cap, anything that made you feel a little less visible. With your disguise in place, you strolled through the downtown streets, picking up candles, party supplies, and a bouquet of flowers.

The florist, someone you remembered from your childhood, recognized you right away.

“My goodness, you’ve grown so much. I always saw you running around with that boy, Chan... Time really does fly.” She smiled warmly, the lines on her face like gentle reminders of passing years.

Chan used to bring you flowers all the time. Daisies. Roses. Lilies. He had always been that way, romantic, attentive, thoughtful. It was one of the many reasons you fell in love with him. He didn’t just love loudly, he loved kindly. The kind of love that wrapped around you like a blanket, that never asked for anything in return. It was steady, devoted, and brave. He would have thrown himself in front of anything to keep you safe.

Years could pass and no one would come close to what you felt in the brief years you were his.

You didn’t regret chasing your dream. You didn’t regret studying, working late into the night, building a name that could be recognized across screens and streets. What you did regret, deeply, was the lie. The way you chose to end it. The story you invented to make him let go. You told yourself it was to protect him. To give him the life he always wanted, one with stability, peace, a future you couldn’t give back then.

You found yourself stopping at a small coffee shop. The kind with soft jazz playing in the background and the smell of roasted beans hugging the air. You ordered an iced americano and settled into a bench by the window.

Outside, the city moved at its usual pace. Strangers passed by, faces you didn’t know, each caught up in their own little story. Couples holding hands. Children skipping along beside tired parents. Friends laughing over shared secrets. Life was happening everywhere, in quiet, ordinary ways.

You looked down at the bouquet beside you. The scent was sweet, but it tightened your stomach. It was the kind of ache that came from memory. The kind that stayed hidden until something soft and lovely pulled it to the surface.

And there it was again, his ghost, lingering in the colors of the petals and the shape of the past you tried to leave behind.

It was a cold winter night, the sky above painted in deep navy blue, scattered with silent stars. The breeze was gentle but sharp, weaving through your hair and brushing against your cheeks like icy fingertips. You stood frozen beneath it, unable to move, your breath the only thing visible as it curled into the night air. Your heart was already aching, even before a single word had been spoken.

Then he appeared in a gray sweatshirt, his messy light brown hair, the tip of his nose reddened by the chill. Chan sat down next to you on the swing in the empty park. 

“Hi, baby.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips, so effortlessly gentle. You tried to smile but it came out broken, just a curve of sorrow he didn’t notice.

“Hi.” The word left your mouth like a breath too heavy to carry.

“You wanted to see me, huh?” He grinned, voice bright, carefree. “I was with Felix, but I came as soon as I saw your message.”

He didn’t know. Not yet. To him, this was just another night. To you, it was the end of everything you knew.

”Chan… we need to talk.”

You couldn’t look at him. Your gaze dropped to your lap, to the chipped light pink nail polish on your fingers, anything to avoid his eyes. He frowned, his smile faltering at the sound of your voice.

“It's okay. You can tell me. What happened?”

You swallowed, your breath hitching. Every second stretched longer than it should. You drew in the cold air and tried to find your voice. “I made a decision,” you said. “I… I want to pursue my dream.”

For a moment, his entire face lit up. That bright, proud smile bloomed instantly, the kind that always made your heart flutter. And it shattered you. Because he still believed you meant together. You could feel your chest squeezing tighter.

“That's amazing, baby. I'm proud of you."

You couldn’t speak. There was a lump in your throat so sharp it hurt. Your mouth felt dry, your hands trembling in your lap. Your heart was pounding so hard it almost drowned out the world. When you finally looked at him, tears were already clinging to your lashes. Chan’s smile faded. He reached out to cup your face, his palm warm and soft against your cold skin.

“Hey… what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You blinked, and the tears began to fall. Slowly at first, then freely, painting your cheeks and dripping onto his hand. “Because… I’m leaving.”

His hand didn’t move. Neither did you. Time seemed to pause, every heartbeat echoing like a crack through your chest. You watched his expression change. Confusion. Pain. Realization.

And then silence. Nothing but the sound of winter and everything falling apart.

It hit Chan like a punch to the stomach, the kind that knocks the air out of your lungs before you can even speak. But he tried. He forced a smile, shaky and faint, before rising and kneeling in front of you. His eyes searched yours, already dimming. You saw it, the sadness tucked behind the corners of his mouth. He didn’t say it, but you knew. You had already disappointed him.

“I received an offer,” you said, voice trembling. “A scholarship. In South Korea.” Your next words barely made it past your lips. “And I accepted.”

He drew in a sharp breath, his chest rising with effort as his heart began to race. But he still nodded, still tried to be strong for you. His laugh was weak, more a breath than a sound.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry, okay?” He reached for your hand. “We’ll figure something out. I can visit. Or… I can go with you. Long-distance relationships work. People do it all the time.”

That was the problem. He meant it. Every word. He would leave everything behind if it meant staying by your side. He would give up his university plans, his future here, his family, his dreams of a quiet home and a life built together, just to chase after you. And that kind of love, though beautiful, was too big. Too costly. Too much to ask from someone you loved back.

“You can’t,” you whispered. Your voice broke as you wiped at your tears with the back of your hand.

Chan’s expression faltered. His brows pulled together in confusion. “What do you mean I can’t? Just tell me when, I’ll talk to my parents. They’ll understand. I’ll figure something out and—”

“Chan,” you interrupted, shaking your head slowly. “No.”

His lips parted slightly, disbelief setting in. “No?”

“I don’t… I don’t want you to come with me.” Your eyes met his, and you saw it happen in real time, the way the light faded. The way hope unraveled behind his gaze.

“I don’t understand,” he said, the words tight in his throat. “Why?”

“I’m doing this alone,” you said, your voice steady even as your heart crumbled. “I want things this place can’t give me.”

He stared at you like you’d just betrayed him with the cruelest lie. Like your words had dug into his chest and carved him open.

“What about me?” he whispered. “Does that mean you don’t want me anymore?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. “It’s not…” you tried, but he cut you off.

“Wait. Are you breaking up with me?” There was a humorless laugh in his voice, one that cracked the moment like glass shattering. He leaned back slightly, recoiling from you, as if your touch might burn him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you said, your voice raw, your hands shaking. “But I need to be honest.”

“Honest about what?”

Your lips trembled. “Us. It’s over.”

He laughed again. This time it was quieter, broken in a way that hurt more than anger ever could.

“No, it’s not,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re not doing this. You’re not.”

“Chan.”

“No. Screw that. Why are you breaking up with me? If it’s because of the trip, I already said I’ll go. I’ll go to freaking Korea, I’ll find work, I’ll study there if I have to. I’ll stay with you. I’ll do anything.”

“It’s not the trip.” You lied. He didn’t see through it.

He took a deep breath, feeling weary, defeated.

“Then what is it? Do you like someone else?”

“What? No,” you said quickly. “It’s not that. It’s just…” You couldn’t finish. You couldn’t say the words that would destroy both of you.

He leaned in, both hands cradling your face, holding you as if you were already slipping away. His eyes searched yours, glassy with tears he refused to let fall.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I would go anywhere with you. For you. I need you to know that.”

You broke. The tears came fast and heavy, streaming down your face as your hands gently wrapped around his, pulling them away from your cheeks. Your heart screamed at you to stop. To stay. To tell him the truth. But instead, you looked him in the eye. And you said it.

”I don't love you anymore.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. And in that moment, you didn’t just break his heart. You shattered the part of yourself that would always belong to him. And then you twisted the dagger in his chest, stabbing him in a place only you had the keys to.

Time stopped. Seconds froze in place, just like your words. Chan looked at you like he was in actual pain. His lips parted again and again, but nothing came out. He let go of your hands like they burned him, stepping back as if trying to find any sign that this was a bluff.

"You don't mean that.” His voice was broken. You were to blame.

“I do,” you whispered. “Please… just don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Tell me it's a lie.” A single tear slid down his cheek. You sniffled, doing everything in your power to keep your own tears from falling. “Tell me this is a joke. Right now.”

“I can’t…” you said, your voice barely there. “Because it’s not.”

His breathing became frantic, struggling to inhale and exhale. He ran a hand through his brown hair, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.. He couldn't believe this was happening. He had made so many plans, and they all included you. He couldn't see a future without you in it. And now the person he loves most simply doesn't love him anymore? What are the possibilities?

“I'm sorry.” You rubbed your hands over your face to wipe away the tears and stood up, the creaking sound of the swing echoing between your broken hearts.

He would never know how much it broke you to do this. Never guess that you were lying straight through your teeth to protect him. That this was love, and it was killing you.

“Hey!” His voice cracked as he rushed after you. He grabbed your wrist and turned you to face him again, forcing your eyes to meet his. Tears clung to his lashes. His breathing was heavy. His nose is red. His voice is nothing more than a desperate whisper. He sniffed, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “If you walk away from me right now, if you do this, I’ll never forgive you.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

In that moment, you swore you could hear the sound of glass shattering, your heart and his breaking at once, splintering into pieces too sharp to ever put back together. It echoed in your chest, your head, your ears. Final. Irreversible.

And still… you turned your back and walked away. Leaving him standing there. Alone. In the dark. With tears in his eyes and a heart split in two.

You broke yourself to protect him and dragged him down with you. And that was something you would never forgive yourself for.

He was inside the car, his head leaning against the seat while listening to soft music on the radio. In half an hour, Yuna would be leaving her ballet class, and he would take her home, cook dinner, and spend another night with his daughter, reading stories and watching cartoon shows on TV.

That’s when the sound of rain pulled him from his thoughts. At first, it was just a few fine droplets tapping against the car window. Then, within seconds, they turned into heavy, thick drops that blurred everything outside. Chan sat up and quickly reached to close the window, but something caught his attention. It was you, running for shelter from the rain, two bags clutched in your hands. You looked flustered and out of breath, your clothes already soaked through, clinging to your body. He cursed under his breath. He knew he shouldn’t, but his heart moved before reason could catch up.

He cursed under his breath, knowing he shouldn't, but his heart spoke louder.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered to himself.

You stopped beneath a tree, trying to use one of the bags to shield your head. The effort was useless. With a frustrated sigh, you gave up and started walking again, slowly now, careful on the slick sidewalk.

Chan rolled the window down fully and raised his voice over the sound of the rain. “Hey, get in the car.”

You froze. Your eyes squinted against the downpour as you tried to make out who had spoken. For a moment, you hesitated. But the rain didn’t. It kept falling harder, soaking you further. He reached over and unlocked the door. You climbed in quickly, tossed the bags to the floor, and shut the door with a sharp exhale. Your teeth clenched as you pushed damp strands of hair away from your face.

Water trickled down your cheeks, your neck, and clung to your skin. Chan stared for a beat too long, his brows furrowed in concern and something else he wasn’t ready to name. Without thinking, he shrugged off the jacket he was wearing and draped it over your shoulders. You opened your mouth to protest, but he didn’t give you the chance. He kept his eyes forward, like he hadn’t just crossed a line he swore he wouldn’t.

“Thanks,” you murmured, wiping your face with your palm.

You pushed your hair over one shoulder, exposing your neck and collarbone. Chan glanced, and then looked again. He couldn’t help it. The way your skin glistened from the rain, the way the warmth of the car painted your cheeks in that soft flush, it tugged at a memory he hadn’t let himself revisit. He remembered exactly what your skin felt like under his fingertips. He remembered the curve of your jaw, the way your breath hitched when he leaned in just a little too close.

He clenched his jaw and stared out the windshield instead, breathing slowly. He wanted to reach out, to trace that same line down your neck, to brush your hair back again just so he could see more. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

Then your eyes caught his, just before he could look away. You frowned.

“What were you looking at?”

He almost let a smirk slip, but buried it beneath a stony expression. “Nothing.”

“You were staring.”

“You’re not that interesting,” he shot back flatly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Your lips parted in disbelief, a flush of anger rising through your chest and neck, burning hot under your skin.

“Look, I get it. You hate me. I probably would too, if I were you. But could you just… not be like this? Just for a moment?” Your voice cracked slightly, but you kept going. “Since I got here, you've been treating me like some intruder. Like I’m this awful reminder you wish you could erase.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just kept his eyes fixed on the window, watching the city blur past.

“You’re not making it easy for anyone,” he muttered.

That was it. Cold, final, like a closed door. He wasn’t going to budge. He would never soften, never let you in. He’d just keep shutting you out, making you question everything. Without another word, you reached down and unbuckled your seat belt, fingers trembling with frustration. Maybe walking in the rain would hurt less than sitting there, being torn apart in silence.

“You’re not serious.” He moved before you could open the door, slamming it shut with one hand. Rain drummed hard against the roof above you, wild and relentless.

“Let me out,” you snapped, gripping the handle over his hand. Your skin brushed his, and your whole body tensed. A jolt ran up your arm, and you hated the way it made your breath catch. He felt it too. You saw it in the slight pause of his movement, in the twitch of his jaw.

“You’ll freeze out there.” His voice came low and tight, rough around the edges.

“So what?” you snapped, your voice cracking under the pressure building inside you. “Do you even care? It doesn’t matter to you anyway.”

Chan didn’t answer. He just stood there, holding the door… and your hand. You tried pulling away, tried opening the door again, but your body betrayed you. You were shaking, your breaths turning uneven. This whole thing felt stupid, desperate and humiliating. Your hand slowly moved up to your face as the burn in your throat rose to meet the sting behind your eyes. Chan flinched, his chest tightening at the sight.

You were crying. His heart sank as he watched your shoulders tremble. You turned away, both hands hiding your face as your sobs filled the small space between you. It was like something inside you had cracked open.

He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t run from it.

“I’m sorry.” His voice came out rough, lower than usual, but there was no doubt it was sincere. “That’s not what I meant.”

You shook your head, voice broken between sobs. “Yes, it is. Of course it is. You hate me—and I get it. I deserve it. I’m awful, I left, I said things I can’t take back… and you’re right to hate me, but…”

Chan reached across the space and gently touched your wrist, grounding you with his presence. “I don’t hate you.”

You were a mess, flushed, soaked in tears, but still the most heartbreakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen. It was ridiculous how that had never changed.

“Be serious,” you whispered.

“I am.”

You both stared at each other, suspended in the moment. Neither of you knew what to say next or what that admission really meant. You sniffled, wiping your tears with trembling fingers, questions swelling in your chest. Had he really asked about you all this time? Did he know your address in Seoul? Did any of it still matter to him?

Before either of you could speak, a wave of laughter and excited voices floated through the cracked car window. Your attention shifted as you spotted a group of children across the street under colorful umbrellas. The rain had started to fade into a light drizzle.

And there she was, Yuna, safe and smiling beneath the cover of a teacher’s umbrella.

Chan blinked hard and exhaled as he unbuckled his seat belt. You watched him step into the rain, holding the umbrella low under his arm. He crossed the street, crouched down, and scooped his daughter into his arms. Reality hit like a punch to the chest. He had a life. A routine. A daughter who adored him. A home to go back to. And you? You were just a reminder of something that used to be.

By the time he returned, Yuna’s face lit up when she saw you in the car. She clapped her hands and giggled, calling your name like she’d been waiting for you all day. You barely managed a smile as you turned, watching Chan quietly buckle her into the car seat.

Yuna beamed back at you, her little legs swinging in excitement beneath her ballet outfit. "Daddy, did you bring the princess to see me?"

Chan glanced at you for a split second, then looked away without answering.

You kept your voice soft. "Hi, sweetie. It's good to see you."

Yuna bounced in her seat, still glowing. "Daddy, can the princess come over for dinner? I want to show her my dolls!"

You couldn't help but smile at her innocence, at how effortlessly she shared her joy. Her little voice, so full of hope, made something squeeze in your chest. Chan swallowed hard beside you, clearly caught off guard. You could tell he was scrambling for a way to gently decline without breaking his daughter’s heart.

But he said nothing. Just silence. Waiting, maybe, for you to do it instead. He didn't want you in his house. That much was obvious. Not with his daughter. Not with his wife. This moment, even if innocent, wasn’t supposed to happen.

So you smiled and leaned forward slightly. "Hey, cutie. I’d love to, but I can’t make it today. I can’t wait to meet them though."

Yuna’s shoulders dropped a little. She made a soft noise of protest and waved her arms in disappointment. "Promise?"

"I promise," you said, offering her a pinky through the seats. She took it seriously and grinned again.

Chan got into the driver’s seat, checking the rearview mirror where his daughter giggled and squirmed in her seat. Then his eyes met yours again. But the smile you'd worn had already faded as you looked ahead. He didn’t say a word. Just started the car. The ride to your parents’ house was filled with Yuna’s cheerful chatter. She told him all about her ballet class, the music, the snacks, her friend who wore a sparkly tutu. Chan listened intently, asking questions, nodding at her excitement. And something in you twisted. 

It wasn’t regret. It wasn’t guilt. It was envy. Because that could’ve been your life. And no matter how close you were right now, it felt miles away.

When he parked the car, you turned to Yuna and blew her a kiss. She caught it in her hands and pressed it to her cheek with a shy giggle. You glanced at Chan, hoping for a trace of softness, but his focus stayed on the windshield like you weren’t even there. You gathered your bags and opened the door. The rain had stopped and everything was damp but quiet.

“Thanks for the ride.” You mumbled before closing the door.

You were already halfway up the steps when you heard your name. You paused, not sure if you imagined it. Then again, louder this time. You turned. Chan had rolled down the passenger window. His expression was unreadable, his tone flat.

"Are you free tomorrow afternoon?" 

You blinked, surprised. "Um… yes. Why?"

“'Two pm. In the park.” 

That was all he said before driving off. No explanation. No smile. Just a cloud of confusion left in his wake.

At two in the afternoon, you arrived at the park. The day was beautiful, cool and sunny, as if the rain from the night before had never happened. Children filled the playground with laughter, running up the slide, tumbling down, their voices echoing in the open space.

From a distance, the first thing you noticed was a head of long blond hair, neck-length and shining in the sunlight. You narrowed your eyes to be sure, your heart picking up speed. It had to be Felix. And just as you suspected, Chan was standing beside him, arms crossed as they talked about something quietly.

“Felix?” You called out to him.

Both of them turned toward you. As soon as Felix recognized you, his face lit up and he opened his arms wide with that same radiant smile you remembered so well. Without hesitation, you walked into his embrace, laughing softly.

“Look who escaped from the big screen to see us!” he said, holding you tightly and longer than expected.

“It’s so good to see you. My God, it’s been forever.”

He looked just the same, maybe even better. Handsome, almost angelic, his warmth just as infectious as it had always been.

“It’s good to see you too. I almost didn’t believe it when Chan told me you were in town.”

You caught a glimpse of Chan watching silently from the side. He didn’t smile, but his eyes didn’t leave you.

“Well, here I am.” 

Felix’s expression turned hopeful. “And how long are you staying? We’ve got to go out for a drink or something.” He nodded toward Chan, who barely acknowledged it, simply offering the smallest nod of agreement.

”Just two weeks.“ You smiled, feeling the weight of time passing in your words.

“We’ve still got time. I gotta run now, duty calls. But hey, I’ve got the bar now. You’ve got to stop by. I’d love that.”

“Of course, Lix. Let’s make it happen.”

He pulled you into one last hug, squeezing you affectionately before heading off with his usual bright energy, waving as he walked away. Once he disappeared down the street, the quiet between you and Chan wrapped around you like a heavy coat. You slipped your hands into your pockets and drew in a slow breath.

“So… any particular reason you asked me to come here?”

Chan turned to face you, and it took a moment for you to steady your breathing. He looked effortlessly beautiful. His hair had grown longer, curling gently at the ends, especially where it brushed the back of his neck. You tried not to stare.

“There’s someone who wants to see you,” he said.

You blinked, confused. But before you could ask, a small figure came running toward you across the grass. Yuna wore a flowery dress and her face lit up with pure joy when she saw you. She ran straight into your arms and you instinctively knelt down, wrapping her in a warm hug. Her tiny arms went around your neck as she giggled, and you kissed her soft cheek.

Before you could say a word, she took your hand eagerly and began pulling you along. “Come on, princess, let’s build a castle!”

Chan sat on the bench with his arms crossed, watching the two of you for the next forty minutes. He told himself to keep a straight face, to resist the growing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. But the truth was, he couldn’t.

You sat with your ankles buried in the warm sand, Yuna beside you, both of you covered in it from head to toe. Her toys were scattered around, half-buried and forgotten except for one mission: build the biggest sandcastle possible. She had declared it like it was royal law, handing you a tiny pink shovel with full authority. 

“Let’s dig, princess,” she said solemnly, her brow furrowed like a little commander.

“Leave it to me, your highness.” You gave her a theatrical bow, gripping the small shovel and diving into the task with exaggerated commitment, carving a moat around the half-built structure.

Chan ran his hand through the back of his neck, definitely not smiling at the scene before him.

And as quick as the blink of an eye, you were getting up to brush the accumulated sand off your lap, and tragedy struck. You tripped over the sand bucket and fell. Face first into the sand. There was a beat of silence before Yuna let out a shriek of laughter. She kicked her feet and clapped, delighted by the sight of you flopped in the sand.

“I’m okay. I’m fine,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, spitting out a bit of grit.

“You fell!” Yuna gasped between fits of laughter. Then she tilted her head and added gleefully, “You fell like a pancake!”

You stood, brushing sand from your hair, your clothes, even your eyelashes.

“Well, good thing pancakes are awesome,” you said with a grin, joining her in laughter.

Glancing back toward the bench, you caught Chan failing miserably at holding in his amusement.

“Yah!” he called out, grinning now. “You alright over there, or should I call for backup?”

“I’m fine,” you replied, pouting as you rolled your eyes. That was it, he broke. Laughter spilled out of him as he leaned back against the bench, unable to keep it in.

You sat back down beside Yuna, both of you returning to your castle, determined to finish it. By the time it was done, the sun had begun to dip low in the sky, casting golden hues across the park. Yuna had started yawning, blinking slower, and rubbing her eyes with sandy hands no matter how many times you gently stopped her. When the sky turned soft and peach-colored, you scooped her up. Her tiny arms wrapped around your neck and her head rested against your shoulder without a word. You carried her across the sand, like a sleepy little koala, toward where Chan was waiting. And for a brief moment, the three of you felt like something whole. Something that almost could’ve been.

“I think her battery ran out,” you said with a soft laugh, gently brushing your fingers through Yuna’s dark hair, tied back with a fluffy yellow scrunchie.

Chan stood up, instinctively reaching to take her from you, but you looked at him, something hopeful flickering in your eyes.

“Is it okay if I carry her a little longer?”

He paused for a moment. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

And just like that, the two of you found yourselves walking side by side down the quiet, tree-lined streets of your old neighborhood. The air was cool and smelled faintly of grass and rain, and Yuna lay nestled in your arms, still barely awake. She clutched a small stuffed bunny to her chest, letting out a yawn every few steps, her eyelids drooping further each time. Chan didn’t say much, but he kept glancing at her with soft eyes, each look filled with affection. It was the kind of quiet tenderness that didn’t need to be spoken aloud. You noticed the way her tired smile would return whenever she felt his gaze on her.

He didn't say anything, just kept walking with you, his hands in his pockets. Then Yuna's sandal slipped off, and he ran to pick it up, with an incredible reflex that only parents have.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes flicking to yours briefly.

“Yes,” you said with a small breath. “She’s heavier than she looks.”

“You sure?” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

You gave him a look and smiled. “Are you calling me weak?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, but didn’t answer.

Before long, you reached his front gate. The garden outside was small but clearly well cared for, the kind of place that made a house feel like a home. You stopped there, hesitating for a moment. He looked at you cautiously, then turned his attention to Yuna. He reached out and gently lifted her from your arms, holding her against his chest with practiced ease, making sure not to wake her.

You watched as her cheek pressed against his shoulder, peaceful and safe.

“Well, I...” you began, unsure of what to say next.

He looked at you, eyes searching. “Do you wanna...”

You both spoke at once. Chan let out a quiet breath, like he had been holding it in for longer than he realized. You smiled, a soft, genuine curve of your lips that felt strangely natural, like muscle memory.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked. “You’re covered in sand.”

You hesitated, shaking your head quickly. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not,” he replied simply. “I’m inviting you.”

You raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. “Won’t her mom be upset if she sees me here?”

There was a short pause. He glanced at the door, then unlocked it.

“No.”

You frowned. His wife must be a saint, then. Because you couldn’t imagine many people welcoming an ex-girlfriend into their home. Still, this was Chan. If he said it was fine, you trusted him.

He entered the house and you followed him. The house was warm. Lived in. A few toys scattered about. A pair of pink socks near the stairs. Chan gently placed Yuna on the couch, tucking her bunny under her chin as she shifted sleepily, her tiny mouth falling open in the most peaceful way.

“She could sleep through a tornado,” he said with a small laugh, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead as he passed you. “Want some coffee?”

You nodded. ‘Sure.’

He pointed down the hall. “Bathroom’s that way, if you want to wash up.”

You thanked him and made your way down the hallway, your footsteps quiet against the floor. The bathroom was just as neat as the rest of the house, everything in its place. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and shook your head lightly, sending grains of sand tumbling from your hair. Then you brushed the rest off your clothes and splashed cold water on your face, watching it trickle down into the porcelain sink.

That was when you noticed it. Two toothbrushes. One small, bright, and clearly Yuna’s. The other, plain and adult-sized. Your brows furrowed slightly. Just two. No third.

You weren’t trying to pry, and you certainly didn’t want to overstep but something about that small detail tugged at the edge of your thoughts. You took a quiet breath and stepped back into the hallway. It wasn’t your place to ask. And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to know the answer.

You hadn’t noticed it right away, but Chan’s house was surprisingly spacious. It made sense, though. A child like Yuna needed room, space to scatter her toys, space to grow, space to let her happiness echo through the walls. Under the stairs sat a piano, slightly dusty, but clearly used from time to time. You remembered him taking lessons back in high school. He had been so determined for a while, though he never followed through. Life had a way of changing people when you weren’t looking.

The sliding door to the backyard creaked as it opened, and you went outside. The sun was already golden, casting long shadows on the grass. A small plastic slide stood crooked in the yard, and the sound of the coffee machine hummed inside.

A few minutes later, he joined you, two mugs in hand. He handed you one and sat down next to you on the wooden bench. For a while, neither of you said anything. You just sipped in silence, breathing in the scent of the afternoon air and roasted beans.

“I didn't expect you to be good with her,” he said finally, his eyes still fixed on the backyard fence.

You looked at him, surprised. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “You used to trip over your own feet trying to put on your backpack.”

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I've evolved.”

“Evolved,” he murmured.

Silence again. But it's not awkward. Just... kind.

The quiet returned, but it felt easy now, like an old rhythm neither of you had forgotten. You looked at him more closely. His jaw wasn’t so tight anymore. His shoulders, always tense when you first saw him again, had relaxed. There was something lighter in his expression. Not happiness exactly, but something close. Something like peace.

“I like being around her,” you said softly, playing with the handle of your mug. “She reminds me of you.”

He turned his head slightly. “How so?”

You smiled at the thought. “She's stubborn. Bossy. Ridiculously charming.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Sounds dangerous.”

“But,” you continued, “she’s also sweet. Protective. Brave.”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on his coffee, lost in thought, the silence stretching comfortably between you.

The sliding door creaked behind you as a breeze blew through, and for a split second, he leaned a little closer to you. Just a little. But enough for you to feel the change in the air.

“She likes you,” he said at last, his voice low. “Thanks for spending time with her.”

You offered a small shrug, brushing your fingers along the ceramic mug. “You don’t need to thank me. The feeling’s mutual. She’s... impossible not to fall for.”

Chan didn’t reply. But when you glanced at him, you caught the way his eyes had settled on you, not guarded, not distant, just quietly focused. Like he was seeing you for the first time in a long while. Like some memory he’d tried to bury had surfaced despite him.

There was something rare about this moment, something soft and unspoken. Just the two of you, sitting side by side with no weight of the past pressing down, no demands or expectations. You knew it wouldn't last. Moments like this never did. But that only made it more precious.

When the breeze turned cooler, Chan stood to make more coffee, and you followed him into the kitchen. The mugs were refilled, the scent of roasted beans wrapping around the quiet space. Outside, the backyard lights glowed faintly through the glass, casting gentle reflections across the counter. Yuna was still curled on the sofa, her small frame tucked tight, clutching her bunny like a lifeline. A lock of hair clung to her cheek, and she shifted slightly, making a soft sound in her sleep.

You leaned against the counter, ankles crossed, eyes fixed on her with a quiet smile. “I still can’t believe she knocked out like that.”

“She always does,” Chan said, sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, one foot touching the floor. “She goes full chaos mode, then crashes like someone flipped a switch.”

You laughed softly. “She’s amazing, Chan.”

He looked down, smiling in that modest way of his. “She’s... everything.”

The words hung in the air between you, warm and honest.

You turned to face him, lifting your mug slightly. “So... how’s life treating you? Besides the whole dad stuff.”

He blinked, as if the question had surprised him. Then he smiled faintly. “Dad stuff takes up a lot.”

“I bet,” you said with a quiet smile, then added more seriously, “But really. What have you been up to?”

Chan ran a hand through his hair, his voice a little rough now, worn down by the long day.

“I teach music,” he said. “At a private school. Guitar and piano, mostly. A bit of theory, some practice. Nothing glamorous.”

Your eyebrows lifted, genuinely surprised. “That actually suits you.”

He chuckled, tilting his head. ‘You think so?’

You nodded. “You always looked the most at ease with a guitar in your hands.”

A faint smile touched his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It’s... peaceful,” he said. “Predictable. Safe.” He paused, then added, “That’s where I met Hana. Yuna’s mom. She used to work there.”

“Oh.” It slipped out before you could stop it. You cleared your throat, adjusting your grip on the mug. “That's nice.”

You never thought you'd be having a casual conversation about the mother of Chan’s child. And yet, here you were. Hana. The name sat oddly in your mind. You wondered what kind of woman she was. Judging by Yuna’s smile, she was probably beautiful, the kind of beauty that stole breath and turned heads. Maybe she was the type of woman people gravitated toward without even realizing. You also wondered if he had loved her the way he once loved you or if it was something steadier. Something built more on trust than passion. Maybe building a life with someone required a different kind of love. Maybe he found happiness in that. The kind you could never have given him.

He said nothing more. He just took a sip of coffee and nodded slowly, the weight of something unsaid passing briefly between you. The way he spoke of her, neutral, factual, without affection, made you curious to know more.

He looked at you then. “And you?”

That simple question softened something in your chest. You let out a breath, a small smile blooming on your lips as you leaned back against the counter, mug still warm between your fingers.

“It’s... intense,” you began. “I work a lot. No fixed schedule. No time to breathe most days.” He was listening, really listening, his coffee forgotten in his hands. “But I love it,” you said, your voice glowing with quiet excitement. “Becoming a different person, even for a little while, and making people feel something real. It’s chaotic, exhausting, terrifying sometimes... but God, Chan. It’s everything I dreamed of. I feel alive.”

He didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on you, but not exactly, it was more like he was caught up in the glare of something.

“I finished filming a movie last month,” you said, your voice softer now. “Nothing flashy, but... it meant a lot to me.” Then you caught yourself, lips twitching in embarrassment. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“No,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. He leaned forward just a little, as if your words pulled him in without permission. “Don’t stop.”

You looked at him then. Really looked at him. Then you smiled.

You looked at him then. Really looked. And for a second, the kitchen changed. Or maybe it was just the light above the sink, casting a warm, golden hue over the tiles and countertops, softening the world around you. Or the fact that he hadn’t blinked once while you were speaking like he was afraid the moment might disappear if he looked away. A current moved through the quiet, slow and heavy like honey. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and his fingers began tapping lightly against the side of his mug. And for one insane, fleeting moment, he thought about kissing you. Right there between the hum of the fridge and the quiet breath of his daughter.

He imagined it: your lips, familiar and unfamiliar all at once, tasting of coffee and memories. The way his hand might hover near your jaw before finding the courage to touch. How the ache between you might dissolve into something simpler, something whole. He blinked, and the thought evaporated with the steam curling up between your cups.

He blinked and the thought disappeared, dissipating in the steam between their mugs.

“You really did it,” he said finally, voice hushed, almost reverent. “You went and made it happen.”

You softened at the sound of his voice. “Yes.”

He’d spent so long resenting the version of you that lived behind a screen. The one who smiled in interviews. The one whose face popped up in trailers he refused to watch. That you were easy to turn off. Easy to hate. But this version standing barefoot in his kitchen, mug in hand, heart soft in your chest, this one, he didn’t know how to hate.

It was getting late.

Neither of you said it, but it hung between you like a thin thread pulling taut. You glanced over your shoulder at Yuna, still curled up on the couch like a question mark, bunny pressed to her cheek. Then you set your mug down, slowly.

“I should go.”

Chan slowly got up, placing his mug on the table. “Yeah... I'll walk you out.”

You tiptoed past the little girl, careful not to stir the peace of the room, and slipped your coat from the armchair. When he opened the door, the night greeted you, crisp and scented with pine and something sweet, like honeysuckle trailing from a neighbor’s fence. You passed him on your way out, your arm brushing his. Neither of you moved away.

You stepped out onto the porch together. Everything was quiet. The kind of silence that echoes in your ears.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said softly, turning to face him.

He looked at you like he was still back in the kitchen, still somewhere inside that memory that hadn’t even fully formed. Then he blinked, his expression softening like thawing ice.

“Thank you,” he said. “For being with her. For being... here.”

You smiled, your breath forming little clouds in the cold.

Your breath came out in small clouds now, floating like ghosts between you. You didn’t quite know what to do with your hands, or how to say goodbye, so you followed instinct instead. You stepped forward and hugged him. It was brief. Your hand ran lightly across his shoulder. But his body stiffened in surprise, and for a second, just one, his arm twitched toward you, as if fighting muscle memory, as if his chest remembered holding you before his brain could catch up.

When you pulled back, he was looking at you again. But this time, his gaze didn’t stop at your eyes. It fell slowly to your mouth. The distance between you was barely a breath. And in that breath lived every question neither of you had asked. Every kiss you didn’t get to steal. If he leaned in now, if he let the years and guilt and fear dissolve would it break something, or fix it?

He didn’t find out.

You walked toward the garden, the cold nipping at your skin, but you didn’t care. Not tonight. Your heart was warm enough. And it was still beating, hard and alive, full of something that almost but not quite, felt like hope.

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