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sunboki · 1 year

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002. THE MOVING IN DIARIES — ANTHOLOGY

PAIRING. Lee Minho x gn. reader | WORD COUNT. 2.3k & 12 minute read | SERIES PLAYLIST. | WARNINGS. cursing, anxiety, metaphor referring to getting high, talk of sex & implied smut | TROPE. friends to lovers, angst, fluff, suggestive, comfort, basically moving in together au!

( ✉️ ) — although this fic turned out shorter than expected, i have to remind myself this is a “mini”series 😭😭 please leave a reblog or comment if you enjoyed it! love you guys!!

Playful banter while driving to your new home is a must, but upon opening the door to your first home together, the big moment truly sinks in — especially when he wakes up beside you the next morning. Wow.

Heaving the massive brown boxes through the door with your boyfriend right on your heels, you practically slam the box labeled “Kitchen” in neon tape down, wiping the sweat off your brow before looking up.

It’s one thing to sign the papers to a new home, but another when you actually realize the reality of it all.

Minho seems to be in the same state of awe as well.

New. Everything is new. Your new home, a new chapter in either of your lives.

Together.

. ..

People genuinely underestimate the entire process of buying a house.

In other words, the entire daydreaming phase disappears instantly once finances, planning, and packing are introduced.

And it’s a fucking nightmare.

From initially digesting the prices to agreeing on a house in general, you’re certain gray hairs are mere days from appearing atop your head. Although, your boyfriend was here too, every step of the way.

My god were you grateful for that.

He handled the stress like a pro, picking out certain flaws in layouts you’d been completely oblivious to and always leveling you out when you got overwhelmed with things. Plus, you got to witness him looking illegally attractive in his glasses more than ever over the four-month long house-buying hell.

“And what about option two?” You ask, referring to your boyfriend currently calling about some new places he’d scoped out.

You swear this same conversation has popped up almost every day over the past month and a half. At this point it’s instinct going through the bottomless list, crossing off place after place, neverending.

Like you said, house-buying hell.

“Pretty spacious except the kitchen takes up half of the house,” Minho grunts, and you envision his glasses-clad self hunched at his desk with Dori on his lap, likely dozing off.

Before you can reject though, he huffs a chuckle, one filled with nothing but mischief.

“Hey, kitchen sex would be great.”

Thank god you weren’t drinking something or it definitely would’ve come out of your nose.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Awe, you love me sweetheart. And you know it's true.”

As much as you’d like to deny it, he’s no fool. Because kitchen sex with Minho is heavenly, and you’d be a liar to say otherwise. Unfortunately, your lack of reply evidently stroked his ego to no end, cocky giggle rumbling through the call.

Asshole.

You love him.

Reminding him you’d send a text while on your way home, you, as per usual, clock in for your shift after his whining and many repeated goodbyes. Yet you can’t seem to let go of the thought, plaguing your mind like an infectious virus.

Doubts.

Doubts about things working out, about your relationship working out, about your love working out. Especially once you move in, if you move in, no, of course you’ll move in, right? Where it came from you’re not sure, only aware of the tightness of your chest when you step outside for a breath of fresh air.

Suffocating. You feel suffocated.

Reaching into your pocket, moments of hesitation keep your thumb lingering longer over his number, regrettably stuffing the forsaken device in your pocket.

Not now, maybe later. It’s just a thought. Nothing serious.

Except you were a hypocrite, and it was serious, because by the time you stepped from the building you practically cried in the middle of the road, barely able to contain the frothing wail that left a nasty aftertaste burning your tongue.

Fuck it. You’re calling him.

Not until he attempts at getting out a full sentence without you dissolving into sobs does an audible phrase leave your mouth, pitifully curled up atop your bed after charting the messiest walk home in history.

“But– But what if the something happens and the agent messes up and–”

“Baby.”

The voice, the subtly stern tone immediately stops your fervent ranting. Your chest feels seconds from exploding, stifling every pained sound clambering to escape.

“This is our journey, our struggles. Don’t put so much stress on your shoulders when I’m here to help you carry it, okay? I love you, and I need you to know you’re not handling this by yourself.”

He’s speaking so quietly, so kindly, and you can only hum to keep from breaking into tears again while leant against the wall, phone pressed against your ear.

He’s said those three words more than ever in these past few weeks—knowing that he needs to hear it, that you both need to hear it. “I love you”.

It never gets old.

Also, once you're officially homeowners, you won’t have to constantly call each other anymore. It brings a watery smile to the corner of your lips.

“Hey Min?”

“Yes?” He hummed, mirroring the same sound made when he ate a good bite of food. It’s the cutest thing in the world.

“Yes?”

“Can we.. stay like this? I just want to know you’re there.”

A breathless laugh utters through the line.

“I’m right here all night sweetness.”

And like he promised, he stayed, the call ending almost seven hours later. Having fallen asleep a mere two hours in, Minho spoke all the while, mumbling to both himself and you. Plans for the future, his current grocery list, and, while deep in thought, how he so badly wanted to marry you.

He wouldn’t mention the last one when you woke up.

Eventually, he too began drifting off, and it wasn’t without telling you good night that he let himself fully travel to dreamland, whispering: “Good night baby, ‘sleep well.” Before clicking the red icon, signaling the end of the call.

Call Ended: 6:43:17.

. ..

The clock hung on his wall reads 2AM and his hand ferociously maneuvers the mouse, eyes practically bloodshot. You’re behind him on his bed, immersed just as intensely on the blinding screen.

Yesterday you’d received the best kind of news, but the trial was far from over, and you couldn’t quite celebrate till the keys came in—the exact thing you were religiously looking into right now.

He’s relentlessly scrolling through emails, running a hand through dark brown hair with prominent dark circles shadowing beaneath his lower lashes.

Having met with your agent that afternoon, you were nearly finished with the entire closing process when ding! A notification buzzes.

Scrambling, you jump off his mattress, both blinking dumbly, mouths agape.

Hello, I am pleased to inform the Minho family (you laughed at the name) your keys will be available at 8am tomorrow morning. Thank you for your cooperation, I was delighted to be the agent you chose for your first home purchase!

Oh my god.

Slowly turning to face one another, huge smiles grow at your cheeks while the boy’s apartment erupts in loud, victorious screams. He pulls you into a big hug and you do the same, mimicking his bouncing excitement.

He can’t even describe how happy he is.

This is really happening.

Your boyfriend hides himself in your chest and you gently pat his head, allowing the thundering of his heartbeat to calm.

Surreal.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t seem to stop kissing you. Perhaps it was the aftermath’s effect, too intoxicated by happiness to think sensibly. Not that he didn’t constantly kiss you normally, but this time it was different.

Plus, how could he stop when after the third kiss your lips were all puffy and glossy, begging to be kissed.

Holding your wrists, he tips his head to an angle, nipping the swollen skin of your bottom lip and ushering a deep sigh from you.

So when he does let go, you effortlessly hold his face, falling back onto the bed without a second thought other than having Minho as close to you as possible.

To say the least, fucking at almost 3AM was criminally underrated.

Towel hanging around his neck after his shower (and the euphoric afterglow), he took on the job of coordinating how each item was organized, deciding to worry about packing up your flat after coming to the conclusion trying to sleep at this point was futile.

“We’re such good adults.” You satisfy, popping the cap off the Sharpie and being sure to label the box in front of you as “Cat toys'' (Minho’s instructions).

”Please don’t ever say that again.” He leans down, stealing a peck for the nth time off your pout. You don’t complain.

You groan. “What? We just bought a house all by ourselves y’know.”

He busies himself in the bathroom, fetching additional toiletries while wearing the horrifically ugly slippers Changbin gifted him last year.

“After four months,” He says, tone laced with bemusement.

“Hey! It’s about the journey, not the reward,” You point an accusing finger his way, him responding with a rather unimpressed expression.

“You’re a loser.”

“Your loser.”

He wrinkles his nose, appearing disgusted.

Typical Minho reaction.

To no one’s surprise, you spend the remainder of the night scurrying around the place, too high on anticipation. Although, even after countless nights of no sleep, you don’t feel exhausted. You feel alive, relieved.

And it’s when he rolls over to face you, smiling so faintly you can barely make out the shadow lining his usually furrowed exterior that you realize he’s just as ecstatic as you are.

. ..

“Oh please, Lee Minho, you’re already hot, and we’re gonna be late!” You holler from his complex's parking lot, shutting the trunk filled to the brim with luggage. Of course, your boyfriend takes his sweet time sauntering over, placing the keys in your open palm and sending you a sarcastic grin.

“Never knew we booked an appointment with the house,” He scoffs, and you slip your index into his belt loop, tugging him closer with a shared sneer.

“Well now you know,” You cockily tilt your head, a sudden tension overwhelming the minimal space between you two, testing each other's teetering resolve using a mere stare and your finger still wedged in his belt.

He steps closer, you hold your breath.

So it takes you a moment to realize he said “I’m driving” till the keys were snatched from your grasp, leaving you to scoot your legs away and side-eye him the entire ride. Worst part? By the look of his stupidly-handsome-no-good-please-stop-so-I-can-despise-you smile, he enjoyed every second.

Yet, opposed to the cold-shoulder attitude on the drive there, you’re giggling like idiots upon pulling in the driveway. Your poor neighbors have to be terrified at this rate, worried their new next-door acquaintances are some deranged circus clowns or something.

They’re not half wrong.

After your starstruck admiration opening the door though, you get to work arranging things. Assembling shelves, cleaning floors, washing windows, you name it, the first half of the house was spotless.

First half.

As for now, you sprawl in Minho’s lap, a fan replacing the lack of air conditioning and a mandatorily delivered magazine fanning your sweaty faces. Any other situation you would’ve been miserable, but there’s no other contentment better than this.

Because it’s not much, but it's yours.

And that’s enough.

Despite the blinds pulled tightly closed, peach rays of light strayed through the crevices, painting the room a warm glow. You stirred awake, genuinely shocked with, one, this bedroom not being your own, two, the subtle wondering of how you ended up here from the living room, and three, a presence pressed against your back, hand slipped between your legs to hold the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“Minho. Minho!” You poke, jabbing an accusing finger against his jaw. His brow twitches, slowly blinking up at you. He grumbles, squeezing the supple skin there as if you weren’t staring at him incredulously.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Glaring into his genuinely innocent eyes, he purses his lips with a very kissable pout, appearing completely confused before noticing where his hand lay.

Compromising. Quite compromising.

“It’s warm and soft, why not? Or is it that I’m turning you o—“ Words cut short from you muffling him with a pillow, he squirms, infectious laughter radiating through the silk fabric.

Clad in basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt that rose up just enough to grant a peek of his soft tummy when he stretched, your boyfriend padded through the hallway, approaching you only to scoop you up into his arms from behind—hand slipping beneath your top.

Before you can interfere though, he mumbles beneath his breath, voice hardly audible after just waking up.

“Don’t move, ‘wanna stay like this.”

Ah.

Morning Minho. You love morning Minho, especially now that you’re living together.

Before now, the only time you’d ever get to wake up beside each other was after, well, that. So to think about tomorrow where you'd get to do this again and again and again felt like a daydream.

Relaxing into his touch, he presses his nose into your neck, eyelids fluttering shut to simply bask in the atmosphere, the quietness occupying the home, your home.

Standing there motionless for a few moments, he takes you in, the softness of your skin dappled in sunlight filtering past the window, the rise and fall of your chest. Beautiful.

“So what’re we supposed to do now?” You aimlessly ask aloud, avoiding eye-contact with the massive amount of boxes stuffed in the corner—too exhausted to continue unpacking the night earlier. Save for another time.

“Fuck?” He mutters, but it comes out more muffled, more gravelly. Ungodly attractive.

“I…” Sentence getting caught up in your throat, you move equally as fast toward the bedroom, his nimble fingers pulling the straps of your top down your shoulders, chasing after you.

“—Hate you.” You finish, simultaneously trapped between him and the door.

Nevertheless, you give in. With Minho, you always give in.

You love him.

He knows.

> SERIES TAGLIST. @phtogravi @liknws @luckieleaf @jhstayy @meloncremesoda @chans1aptop @eternitywaveshello @meanergreener @ladylexis @love-gy-u @hanjingin @idkluvutellme @dark-anxel @yubinism @rachabreathing @seung-scrittore @fylithia @skzsupremacy @alrm02 @ener-energy @koliki @anskiiz @dprkbyn @bellamuerte1987 @ylixbok @hanjisung-enjoyer @youngunknownwitch @hwangflora @starlost-andfound @taeriffic @flwerfield

sunboki, may 2022 ©

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lovecarisi · 3 months

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Mistakes We Knew We Were Making

Chapter 6: Relief

Dominick’s not there when you wake up. It’s almost 11am and your head feels like it’s about to split open. The curtains are still drawn and you’re thankful for the dark room. There’s water, coffee, and aspirin on the nightstand and you swallow pretty much everything within seconds before sinking back down into the pillow. Your stomach is in knots but not from the alcohol. You remember. Not word for word but you remember the gist of it. Fuck. The embarrassment you feel is overwhelming. What the fuck were you thinking? Even for drunk you, this is a new low. Normally you pride yourself in not making a fool of yourself under the influence; you’re usually the drunk friend that keeps all the other drunk friends in check. Damn, you knew as soon as you arrived at this house, as soon as you and Dominick entered this room with your bags that this would be a test and that you would fail miserably. God. And this had only been Day One. Now what would await you? Would he be mad? Sad? Would he call it quits? He would probably volunteer to sleep on the sofa for the remainder of the weekend. Not with that crazy girl he regrettably chose to fuck a few weeks ago who turned out to be a mess. Surprise, surprise.

Wait, was there crying? Did you cry? And did he hold you and did you cry even more when he did? Oh good lord.

A knock on the door. Fuck.

‘It’s me.’ Louisa. Thank God.

She comes in and closes the door. Sits on the bed next to you.

‘I’m guessing you’re as hungover as the rest of us?’ she smiles a painful smile.

‘I sure am. Where’s Dominick? Is he okay?’ you ask, not sure if you’re ready for the answer.

‘He’s downstairs. Preparing for the barbeque. He’s going mental, I can tell you, like crazy. That guy has some mad skills when it comes to food. He’s made some marinade - I don’t know what he put in there but it smells so delicious I wanna bathe in it. So yeah, he’s okay, why wouldn’t he be? Did something happen? Did you break his dick or something?’ she giggles and you sigh with relief.

‘No, we just…I was drunk and said some words. Things. Stuff. I don’t know.’

‘Oh God, what did you say!?!’

‘I’m not sure. Something about him being too good for me. And I might have said that he thinks he has feelings for me but he doesn’t really, and that he will make a good husband for someone one day but just not for me. It was crazy drunk talk and now I hate myself, what can I say. Also I’m pretty sure I started crying because he got annoyed and then he had to comfort me.’

‘Oh honey, no. No you didn’t.’ Louisa looks at you in the most pitying way a best friend can and you feel even more sorry for yourself.

‘Yeah, I did. I feel so awkward. I don’t even know how to face him to be honest. Knowing him, and knowing how fucking good of a man he is, he will definitely pretend he doesn’t remember and I know he remembers because he wasn’t nearly as drunk. So I’m gonna have to pretend that I believe him.’

‘Just fuck it out like you always do.’ she suggests and you nod because obviously, that’s what’s most likely going to happen.

Louisa heads back downstairs and you get up and take a shower. Luckily, you feel slightly better afterwards, at least physically. Now comes the hard part. And you decide to be a woman about it. As you walk into the kitchen, Dominick is still there, preparing food with Louisa’s help but she flees as she sees you coming and you give her a grateful smile. He looks up and you wrap your arms around his waist, and thankfully he leans into you invitingly.

‘I’m sorry about last night.’ you whisper, looking for a reaction from him and he gives you a soft smile. ‘I think I still have a lot of…stuff I haven’t dealt with from my past relationship and I guess that all came up in my drunken state. And I’m sorry I projected that onto you. That wasn’t fair. But you are a good man. And that other man would have taken advantage, so thank you for taking care of me last night. And for not being angry with me.’

You’re not quite sure if it’s the entire truth; whether your past relationship has anything to do with what you felt about Dominick last night. But for now it’s the best explanation you can come up with, for yourself and for him. So you mean it, earnestly. And he turns towards you and hugs you, kisses your hair, and you feel so much relief. There’s so much rawness in this moment between you two, you somehow wish you could take it back but at the same time you savor every second of it.

‘It’s okay, my sweet. I could never be angry with you. And we all have our stuff. I get it. Don’t worry, yeah?’ he assures you and you hug him tighter.

You can tell he’s relieved too, and you’ve been given more time. How much more you don’t know. One month, two, three. Until the end of the summer maybe. Another tremor has passed.

_______________

The rest of your 4th of July celebrations continue on without a hitch. You and Louisa help Dominick finish with the food, he wouldn’t let anyone else touch anything even though the others offer but he shoos them away. In exchange they take charge of the barbecuing and everything is delicious and you have the most fun, relaxed day, this time with a much more controlled alcohol intake. When the fireworks start in the evening, everyone is busy with each other so Dominick pulls you away and up the stairs and there you are again, naked and entangled under the sheets.

Compared to yesterday afternoon, it’s slow and passionate and you hold on to him for dear life, and it’s probably all the emotions of last night, for both of you. You try not to let it get to you but let’s face it, you are not a very good actress.

‘It’s okay.’ he whispers as he sinks into you, kissing you deeply. Is this what Louisa meant when she said ‘fuck it out’?

You shut off your mind and let your body take over, or rather, you let Dominick take over your body. Your legs wrap around him and you focus solely on the feeling of him inside you, his skin against yours, his breath, the way he moans your name. It’s an intoxicating feeling having him this close. If you’re being completely honest with yourself it messes with your mind and perhaps that’s why you prefer the less intimate ways. One could argue that being on all fours and having a man raw you from behind is even more intimate but no, this is it for you. There’s no escaping how he looks into your eyes, how he kisses you; you are trapped, not just physically. Of course it feels wonderful, there’s no denying it. Everything is so intense with Dominick, and in these moments he brings you to the brink of almost forgetting that you are only lovers, not in love. And that is a dangerous thing.

So yes, it’s cute and lovely when you ‘make love’ but you will always try to fuck instead for that exact reason. To avoid the feeling in your stomach you get when your eyes meet and he tells you that there isn’t a minute of the day he doesn’t think of you. And you should feel delighted but there’s regret and guilt you feel when he says it, so you kiss him again desperately so he doesn’t realize. So then you shut off your mind because you’ve had enough of your own fucked up thoughts this weekend and you try to focus on just the way your body feels. And your back arches as Dominick thrusts into you, still slowly but expertly hitting your gspot. He cups your breast softly, telling you how beautiful you are, and you do feel beautiful with him, and you do tell him he’s beautiful too because he is. Your hands grab his arms, tracing the muscles there, up his shoulders, down his back, leaving light scratch marks on his tanned skin, and you know he likes it as he hisses into your ear. You’ve gotten carried away in the past, just looking at him; while he was sleeping, while he was lying next to you in the sun. Giving him up will mean going cold turkey and you know it so you have to enjoy every inch of him as long as you can. You do wish you could stop time.

When you pack your bags the next day it feels surprisingly bittersweet. All the anxiety you felt about sharing a room with Dominick for the weekend has been replaced by sadness that it’s over and you two have to leave your love nest behind. First night’s alcohol-fueled antics aside, it’s been really nice and knowing you’ll never get this back makes your heart sink. He seems to read your mind.

‘This wasn’t so bad.’ Dominick says, grabbing his toiletries from the bathroom.

‘Yeah, well, apart from my little emotional outburst I’d say we did pretty good.’

‘Happens to the best of us.’ he smirks but you still wish you could make it unhappen.

‘I guess we’re not gonna see each other for a while then, huh?’ you’re referring to the Bar of course, and the fact that it’s less than four weeks to the exam and all of you have to study and none of you need distractions.

‘For real? I’d think we need a bit of a, y’know, stress relief, at the end of each day. Like, as a reward.’ he’s standing there with his hands on his hips, all serious and you have to laugh.

‘Okay, fair enough. So a stress relief fuck date every night?’

‘You don’t have to make it sound so seedy but yeah.’

You roll your eyes at him, cursing him for being adorable and so needy for you. Truth be told, you don’t think you could have gone even a week without him. If he hadn’t suggested it, you would have been at his door in a matter of days, scratching like a starved kitten, begging to be fed and petted. You’re just as bad as he is.

________________

So it goes. Your alarm wakes you every day at 6am. A shower, a huge cup of iced coffee, a quick breakfast, and then it’s you and the books and papers until noon. You allow yourself ten minutes for a lunch break, usually some prepared snack or a bagel, more coffee, repeat. Time flies by and soon it’s 8pm and your stomach is growling and your doorbell rings and it’s Dominick and he always brings food and you devour it and then you devour each other. He was right about the stress relief. It does wonders. By 9.30pm you are usually asleep, worn out from studying and sex. He stays with you some nights but he knows not to be there when your alarm goes off so you have developed a routine although you do allow yourself to spend the weekends at his place, studying together, a little bit more relaxed.

You admire his brain. The way he thinks. You have no doubt he’s going to pass the Bar with ease. Dominick says the same thing about you but you have always been unsure of yourself while he has this confidence, this tenacity that seems to just flow through him naturally. When you imagine him as a lawyer, you can just see a jury hanging on his every word while he delivers his opening or closing arguments or questions the witnesses; his intelligence, eloquence and charm all paired up will make for a deadly combination in a courtroom. It certainly worked on you, from the very first second. Dominick has this force of attraction about him that makes everyone around him, no matter the gender, want to be close to him, talk to him, have his attention. And at times it had made you jealous before realizing that you were the center of his attention, always. You’ve never used the term ‘exclusive’ and there have been instances when gorgeous girls have made their way over to him while you were nowhere near him but watching from afar. There were no rules about flirting with other people and he was unaware you were even looking but it put a winning smile on your face every time you saw him ignore their advances. In all honesty, the thought of him with someone else killed you inside. You knew, eventually you would both move on from one another and then some other girl would have him. Once you let him go you would have to be ready for that. But right now you weren’t ready to let him go just yet.

_______________

The day of the Bar finally came and went and overall you have a good feeling about it. Now all you could do is wait for the results, stay at your part-time job in the meantime, or, if you’re lucky, get that clerk position with Emily at the UN you applied for. At the moment though, you’re in limbo, so you enjoy the summer, let the pressure fall off your shoulders, and celebrate with your friends.

One of your fellow students is throwing a party on the rooftop of his apartment building the day after the exam. It’s the hottest day of the summer, or so they said and you’re wearing your skimpiest dress, hair up, and trying to cool yourself by pressing a cold glass of Vodka Soda against your neck. Dominick is late, on the hunt for more ice he promised to bring. You scan the crowd, wondering how many of these people will stay in your life now that you don’t even see each other at the library anymore. It’s a new chapter in your life for all of you and a lot of you will move on, perhaps even you. At the end of the day though, New York is a village and being in the same profession, you will run into each other, like it or not.

A cold pair of hands on your shoulders interrupts your thoughts and you shriek in surprise, turning around to find Dominick giggling at you.

‘Ugh, you’re so mean!’ you scold but kiss the corner of his mouth, hugging him.

‘And here I was thinking you’d appreciate it considering this heat!’ he hugs you back, swaying you from side to side a little.

‘With a bit of a warning, maybe.’ there you are again, back and forth like an old married couple. You have to roll your eyes at yourself.

‘You look divine.’ he says and lets go of you, looking you up and down.

‘I’m sweating, everywhere.’

‘That’s hot. Won’t make a difference then when I tear off that dress and throw you down somewhere to-’ you put your finger on his lips to shut him up as you see some of your friends approaching.

That visual he gave you stays with you the entire night. And apparently, he has some thoughts on his mind as well. You can tell by how his fingers are brushing the back of your thighs just below the hem of your dress every time he walks by you. The way he tucks the loose strands of your hair behind your ears whenever he stands next to you, hand lingering there for a bit too long. The way his eyes are focusing on your lips whenever you suck on your straw and you make a point of licking them ever so often, on purpose, of course. Fluttering your lashes up at him innocently, making him blush because he sure as fuck is thinking about your mouth wrapped around his cock. And he sighs and looks away, and swears under his breath and you giggle and he comes back, his hand on the small of your back.

And you check that no one is watching and you stick your butt out a little and he double-checks for witnesses, and his hand wanders there for a brief second. Cupping your asscheek, squeezing before he withdraws quickly as though he burned himself on a hot oven. Then your fingers, wet from the condensation of your cold glass, casually wander down your neck to the mounds of your breasts, leaving a moist trail you know he is dying to lick. He clears his throat, moving closer again and you feel the heat of his body against yours, you can swear he’s shaking as he grabs your thigh, fingers digging into your flesh under the makeshift bar. He’s dangerously close to your lace-covered center, a few more inches and he would feel just how wet you are from toying with him like this. So you walk away to the other side of the roof, out of sight a little bit, leaning against the wall, waiting for him to join you.

‘You’re being a really bad girl tonight.’ Dominick sighs, flustered out of his mind.

‘I can be even worse.’ you grin, shoving your leg between his legs, feeling him get hard.

‘Don’t you dare.’ he warns softly but you know he has lost this battle already and there’s not much he can do.

‘What? Hmm?’ you raise your leg, until your thigh is at his crotch, moving back and forth gently over him.

‘Stop!’

‘You came over here. You followed me. Just walk away then. You can’t, huh?’ you laugh, continuing your movements.

‘No, I can’t. You got me in a chokehold and you know it. You and these red lips.’ his thumb is on your bottom lip and you open your mouth, sucking it in, making him gasp.

‘You want something else in there, don’t you, Dominick?’ you look up at him and he has that look on his face, that look of denial but you know what he wants. ‘You want me to be a really, really bad girl? You want me to suck your cock and swallow your cum for you, hmm? Every last drop? I want it so bad, Dominick. I want to taste you so bad. Have you throbbing in my mouth.’

He curses and grabs you and you giggle while he pulls you toward the rooftop exit. Down the stairs you go until you find a dark corner in the stairwell, and soon that red lipstick of yours is leaving marks down his neck, chest and stomach. And you get on your knees and unbuckle his belt and his head falls back against the cool wall and you feel dizzy because he looks so fucking hot and you can’t wait to make him feel good. His cock is rock hard as you pull down his underwear and you take him into your mouth hungrily, and he growls your name desperately. He can’t help but grab your head and fuck into you but you don’t mind; on the contrary, you can feel yourself growing even wetter as his cock hits the back of your throat, making you gag slightly. You riled him up good all evening and seeing him lose it is all you wanted.

It doesn’t take long until you can feel his muscles tense but instead of picking up the pace he withdraws from your mouth, leaving you surprised as he pulls you up. His hand immediately under your dress, feeling for your wetness and he smiles before kissing you sinfully.

‘Ah, you thought you could fuck with me? Act like you got me all wrapped around your little finger? Like you’re the one in control. Nuh-uh, kitten. Look how wet you are for me. Two can play that game, baby.’ he whispers, shoving you against the wall as he removes your thong.

You want to protest but his words make you delirious as he wraps your legs around his hips, aligning himself with your entrance. He kisses you again and slips into you without effort, immediately starting a hard, relentless rhythm, fucking you against the wall.

Fuck. You come undone. Yes, you wanted to be in control but now he’s making you lose all of it. All you can do is hold on to him while he slams into you, over and over. It’s quick, it’s rough, it lasts only a few minutes. The only sounds are your moans and your bodies, slick with sweat, pounding together. And you cum hard and unexpectedly, biting down on his shoulder to stifle a scream that the whole apartment complex would have heard otherwise. He can barely hold you up, his own knees buckling from his orgasm, and when it’s over you just hang from each other, foreheads pressed together, panting, shaking.

And then somewhere above you you can hear a door open and footsteps coming down the stairs and you quickly gather up your clothes and retreat further into the corner, giggling.

‘How ironic would it be if we’d get arrested one day after taking the Bar?’ he says, zipping up his jeans while you pull up your thong.

__________________

Half an hour later Dominick walks you home and kisses you goodnight in front of your building. You can tell he wants to come up but you leave for Connecticut in the morning, to visit your family for a few days. Come to think of it, it’s the longest you’ve been without him since the two weeks at the beginning of your summer fling. And you admit to yourself that you’re going to miss him terribly.

__________________

thank you so much to my betareader for this chapter @pascalispretty aka The Rose of the Reach on AO3 please check out her works!)

tagging @plaidbooks @eltrujillo :)

#dominick carisi #dominick carisi x reader #law and order svu #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi #carisi x reader #carisi smut #carisi fic #carisi fan fic #svu

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writer-of-the-lamb · 9 months

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"darkwood dating" - cotl oneshot

--the lamb shoots his shot. narinder replies accordingly--

The sun shone through the thick forest canopy, casting dappled light onto Narinder and the lamb as they wandered. Holding a map from Clauneck in his hands, the lamb turned to face him.

"We have arrived."

Narinder raised an eyebrow, all three eyes looking around skeptically. "..Arrived where, exactly?"

The lamb flourished his arm outwards, conjuring a picnic blanket in checkered red from his crown before adding a wooden table atop it. Narinder watched him craft, giving the crown's eye a dirty look.

Sometimes he kicked himself for giving that thing away.

The lamb pulled back a chair, bowing slightly and looking up to Narinder. "Take a seat." he said, grinning.

Disgusted, Narinder sat himself down. "How will this help us harvest for the feast tonight?" he asked as the lamb sat across from him and leant onto his elbows.

"Oh that was a lie. I already have stuff ready." The lamb revealled nonchalantly, tilting his head. "Soo..."

Unamused, Narinder scowled. "So what?"

"How are yooou?"

"I beg your pardon."

"You enjoying the weather?" The lamb tried again, winking with a click of his tongue.

Narinder's face scrunched in horror. "Are you...attempting to advance on me?"

The lamb's eyes crinkled in a smile. "Now who implied that?" he said innocently.

"W- you are asking me mundane questions. Am I incorrect to assume that is not an attempt at being forward?" Narinder argued, waving his hands.

The lamb chuckled, eyes glistening merrily. "I think you're being forward."

Narinder's eye twitched. "What is this." he whispered, terrified, scanning the perimeter of the forest clearing they were in, "This is a trap."

"I'd never."

"You just killed a follower in cold blood after she neglected to tend the farms."

The lamb giggled, almost airily. "Whoopsie."

Narinder broke his gaze off of the lamb, watching the swaying camellia like they were about to jump out and kill him. "Forgive me, but I am incredibly suspicious of your motives."

"Why's that?" The lamb asked, grinning again.

Narinder paused, eyes narrowed. "Forget it." he muttered, turning away in his chair. "Must we sit here for longer?"

"Until you answer my questions, yes."

A loud groan.

"Ask me your ridiculous queries, then." Narinder mumbled, clenching his jaw.

The lamb beamed, now kicking his feet under the table. "How are you on this fine day, then?" he chirped, tilting his head.

"Indifferent."

"How do you find the weather?"

"Palatable."

"How do you find the flowers?"

"The colour is acceptable."

"What about Darkwood?" "It was better before this."

The lamb laughed - a merry laugh Narinder didn't think he'd quite heard before. There'd been a lot of chuckles, snickers, snorts at his expense...especially when he had been dethroned...but a laugh?

Narinder's face softened slightly as the lamb wiped his eyes.

"I'd apologise but I don't entirely care about you hating me." he chuckled, grinning.

"I don't hate you."

The lamb's gaze snapped back onto him.

Narinder pursed his lips, looking away.

"Repeat that?" The lamb asked wide-eyed, leaning forward.

"No."

"Be prepared to sit here forever then."

A pause.

"I simply stated...that I do not despise your presence before me in the circumstance of a table-sat gathering."

"You like me."

"If any soul here favours someone, it is you toward I." Narinder scoffed. "You are a pathetically obvious fool, Lamb. One I regrettably enjoy tolerating."

"Your fancy words don't hide your true feelings." The lamb smirked, "How would you feel if I was 'advancing' on you?" he asked, using air quotes.

"Disgusted." Narinder replied.

The lamb rolled his eyes, chuckling.

"..but not impartial."

The lamb waggled his eyebrows. "Pathetic display, truly. I have been better wooed by specks of dirt." Narinder said, fighting a smile.

The lamb leaned forward on his elbows, whispering. "Specks of dirt wouldn't dare approach you under my gaze."

Narinder felt the sun get hotter on his face. "Your sudden vocabulary change does not impress me, Lamb."

The lamb stood from his seat, walking over. "So if I told you something like 'the crimson upon these flowers has nothing on the divine red of your soul', you wouldn't be interested?"

Narinder shut his mouth.

The lamb stepped back, chuckling. "We can go back now, by the way. I'm shooting a shot." he grinned. "Can't blame me fo-" Narinder rose from his seat, abruptly seizing the lamb by his robe and kissing him firmly.

The lamb's eyes widened just as Narinder let him go, turning on his heel back toward the cult.

"Are you advancing on me?" The lamb mocked, running after him.

Narinder smiled a small smile. "Now who implied that?"

#cotl #narilamb #BRAINROT IS REAL ARGHHH #I LOVE THEM SMM #theyre gay your honour #cult of the lamb #fic #oneshot #narinder x lamb #darkwood

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ssukidesu · 3 months

Text

what friends do

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Pairing: Nalu

Rating: T

Nalu Week 2024 ( @thenaluarchive @allaboutnalu )

Summary: Lucy gets a little too happy and does something (maybe not) regrettable.

Chapter 2: when friends return the favor (PDA)

Ch. 1 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6

Read on AO3

Read under the cut

Maybe if I ignore them, thought Lucy, they’ll go away.

No dice. Happy was still floating in her face—such bad table manners he had, as the action put his rear end right over the food-covered table that she and the rest of their teammates were currently using—and Natsu was standing right at her side, having eaten an hour ago. She refused to turn her body on the bench to face him fully, but that didn’t stop Happy from trying everything in his power to hold her attention.

They both looked at her with sad eyes—which only pissed her off more, since she knew they really wouldn’t be that beaten up about it.

Maybe if I close my eyes…? If I can’t see them, they can’t see me, she hoped. She covered her eyes with her fingers in exasperation.

“Luuuuucyyyy,” whined Happy. “Please?”

What was it with them not taking “no” for an answer? Erza, Wendy, and Gray didn’t even seem surprised about it; in fact, they didn’t even bother coming to her rescue. They just kept on enjoying their meals, hardly paying them any mind. Hers was surely getting cold.

She pictured it: waking up at the ass-crack of dawn, making breakfast sandwiches with the rest of the food in her fridge, walking two whole miles to the river, and sitting for hours just for her to catch nothing at all while these two idiots flaunted their superior luck and fishing skills?

No thank you.

Lucy could count the number of times she’d gone fishing with them on one hand—but the few times she had, she’d been forced to the miserable conclusion that she sucked at it worse than a little kid practicing his cannon ball skills in between casts.

Fingers still shielding her eyes from their pouts, Lucy repeated, “Like I said, I’m no good at it. It isn’t fun at all for me.”

Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Even when she wasn’t catching anything, the knuckleheads at least tried to entertain her. She suspected it was always to cheer her up, but Natsu would often work a little harder than normal to make a fool of himself so that she’d laugh, and Happy always devoted a number of his catches to her.

“This one’s for you, Lucy!” he’d say.

And Natsu would pitch a jealous fit. “Hey! What about me? No fair!”

And then he’d set to work sabotaging Happy’s success—whether through baiting his hook poorly to ensure the fish would come loose (Natsu did, of course, have to bait Happy’s hook for him, as his thumbs were superior in mobility) or through raging himself up to leap into the river to “catch one first”.

Lucy would always feel better after that. It was hard to be sullen, after all, when your ribs hurt from laughing so much.

“Come on,” came a voice deeper and raspier than Happy’s. “Please? We’ll make sure you have fun even if the fish ignore you like before. Your bad luck has to run out eventually.”

Lucy frowned—not at his words, but at her own faltering resolve.

She sighed audibly and let her hands fall from her face. “…Fine.”

Before the syllable had fully left her lips, the two fools were shouting and punching the sky in celebration.

She crossed her arms indignantly over her chest, sulking in her defeat. Whether what Natsu did next was due to him noticing her sour face or not noticing it at all, she couldn’t be sure; all Lucy knew was that one moment she had been entirely in her own bubble, and the next…

Natsu’s hands were gripping both sides of her face and holding her into place, and his wet lips were smacking sloppily against her cheek.

Not even half a second—that’s all it was. A brief and flippant thing. But as Natsu and Happy continued their celebration on their way to the door and out of the guild hall, Lucy wondered why she could still feel him there.

And why her cheek was scorching hot. But then she realized it was probably her whole face that was burning.

“Um… Lucy?” asked Gray in a humorously tense voice.

Shit, she panicked. Forgot they’re here.

“What was that?” cried Wendy, already clasping her hands together in excitement.

“Uh—I…” she stuttered, eyes still glued to the guild doors, through which he had already disappeared. Her hand had come to cover where he had kissed it with a mind of its own, and she felt her skin’s violent blush. She saw no point in lying to them. “I might have told him that’s what friends do when they make each other happy…”

“Oh,” exclaimed Erza in a surprised squeak. Clearing her throat, she continued, “Well, I suppose that’s fine…”

Gray slammed his hands down on the table and pushed himself wildly to stand, startling everyone. “You mean that idiot is gonna go planting one on anyone who makes him happy?! Shit, Lucy—now I gotta make sure I never do anything nice to him ever again!”

Not appreciating the finger pointing, Lucy tightened her crossed arms over her chest and cringed. “You’re never nice to him, Gray. You’ll be fine.”

But Lucy suddenly felt even less fine than before. She hadn’t even thought about that risky consequence—that he’d go around kissing anyone who made him happy. Surely he wasn’t that much of an idiot… right? But she imagined him grabbing other people’s faces and smacking his lips on their cheeks the same way he had just done to her—and a rock formed in her stomach that she didn’t think she’d be able to medicate away. What if he did that to a poor clueless girl who would misunderstand it?

Lucy groaned. She would have to talk to him again, before he did something stupid and hurt someone’s feelings…

Like mine, a pesky voice deep within her said. She shoved it away, not even validating it with a response.

Well, she really did mean to take care of this misunderstanding sooner rather than later, but when she saw him the next day, he kept his lips to himself, even when she finally managed to catch a fish and made him smile so hard his dimples remained indented beside his mouth long after his smile faded. She wondered what it was about yesterday’s events that made him so damn happy that he considered his expression warranted, and after wondering and wondering during every second that she could spare, she decided that he probably wouldn’t be as liberal with it as she’d initially feared. Lucy decided that she would keep a close eye on him whenever possible, and if he did assault some poor unsuspecting victim’s cheek with a sloppy kiss, she would immediately take it upon herself to explain everything to them.

But in the meantime, she’d let it be. Maybe he’d forget about it altogether and never do it again—to her or anyone else.

The thought was initially comforting—but after Lucy returned home that night and readied herself for bed, something about it gnawed unpleasantly at her gut.

#first to chaps are def set up #ish gets more real in the next one #nalu week 2024 #nalu #nalu week #fanfiction #ao3

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psalacanthea · 5 months

Text

WiP Wednesday

Because I am a crinimal who has yet to finish this chapter, I shall post a bit extra today. But I AM working on it this week! When I can :)

Here is a little snippet of Phoebe Cousland realizing the things she is starting to resent Duncan for...well, she's already done herself. Being a Warden is complicated. And awkward. Especially when your practicality is at war with your overdeveloped (and somewhat myopic) empathy.

From the Dragon Age: Awakening fic found here!

...

Everyone had a bottle close to hand, which Phoebe felt conflicted about.

Survival needed a sober companion. But…sometimes instead survival needed a companion able to keep moving on, no matter what it took. The Blight had taught her that. It was…regrettably why she put up with Oghren’s drinking more than she should.

She had seen all the horrors that haunted him first hand.

But Phoebe needed to find a line where helping didn’t become hurting in the end.

“Where is Justice?” Phoebe asked, approaching the circle of mismatched seats worriedly. Hopefully they weren’t shunning him. He deserved companionship after what he’d been through.

Everyone around the fire glanced up at her, faces glowing in the light.

The sudden surge of guilt that washed through her made it hard to smile, but she did her best.

“He’s patrolling and gathering up skulls to bury. He wanted to.” Sigrun said, leaning back from the pot bubbling over the stove. Her plated boots clanked together as they left the ground, the dwarven woman briefly balancing on her hands. The bark under her hands crackled lightly, her log seat shifting. “Woah!”

Velanna lifted a hand, clenching her fist. Vines swarmed up from the packed earth, catching the log and rolling it back to anchor to the earth. Sigrun blinked, swaying as she barely steadied herself, bark fragmenting under her fingers. Anders reached out for her shoulder, keeping her upright.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Wow! Yeah,” Sigrun said, giving a little shake of her head. Her boots thudded back on the ground. “Thanks! I’m used to things being a bit heavier. Wood’s much lighter than stone. Everything up here feels so…” She gestured vaguely.

“Unsteady?” Phoebe asked, feeling an odd sense of understanding.

Sigrun smiled up at her, tattooed lines shifting. “Yeah. It’s kind of nice.”

“It’s something I…” Phoebe glanced around, aware that everyone was looking at her again. When she spoke, they all looked right at her. She flushed, feeling unaccountably awkward with that idea– the implied leadership. Maker, she’d condemned them to death.

And that was putting it mildly.

“It’s…nothing at all.” She shook her head.

Narrowed in on her own life, suffering, and duty, Phoebe had ignored what life was for others. Danger and struggle were ordinary parts of life for others, and she’d been so, so spoiled. Naivete had killed so many. She’d been a fool for Thomas, and it’d destroyed her. Father had trusted Rendon Howe, and it had destroyed everyone in Highever, not only her family.

She would say ‘except Fergus’, but Phoebe still wasn’t sure if she had her brother back, or only a shell.

Maybe he had been destroyed.

She’d been so fixated all this time on her family, on the Howes, without even thinking about all the other lives that were just as ruined. Some of them she had ruined herself. Of course she had seen the necessity of Wardens, and what happened when they weren’t at strength…

“Are you all right?” Anders asked, cutting into Phoebe’s morose staring into the fire.

With a blink she immediately started moving towards the nearest seat she found, at the end of a log. “I…nothing.” What had she been doing? Blessed Andraste, was Phoebe going mad? “Nothing at all.”

“I think you answered a different question than I asked,” Anders said, puzzled.

She wanted to blurt it out, to shout ‘I’m sorry for killing you!’ from the top of her lungs…but if they rebelled, would she be left alone? Phoebe had seen the Blight. There was absolutely no way she would ever let it happen again. Is this what necessity was?

“Were we playing a game?”

Her voice was high, brittle, and foreign.

Something brushed her hand, breaking into her strange, stilted bubble, shattering it. A bottle bumped her knuckles, and her head jerked up, eyes wide. Phoebe inhaled.

Glancing from the bottle, up the arm, and then finally to Nathaniel’s face, she felt unaccountably awkward. Still, Phoebe took it from him, lifting it to her lips for a sip. It wasn’t very good, but that was what she deserved right now.

“We are trying to relax, I am told,” Velanna spoke up, almost pitying her if not for how matter-of-fact her voice was. “I still don’t understand the rules enough. I’m not certain how to tell who wins.”

“It isn’t a game you play to win,” Anders said. Then he paused, clasped his chin, and mused, “or is it.”

“It is a game you play to humiliate people for fun,” Nathaniel said succinctly, extending his hand to Phoebe without looking at her.

She pretended she didn’t see it, and took another sip from his bottle. It wasn’t terrible. Mostly whisky, Phoebe thought. Living in Starkhaven had a way of doing that to people, from what she’d heard. Unfortunate that it was hard to get good whisky around here.

“What game is it?” Phoebe asked, still further back in the conversation. “How can you have a card game that no one wins?”

#da:a #dragon age awakening #wip wednesday #howe x cousland

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the-chihayafuru-landslide · 2 years

Text

In Defense of the Ending of Chihayafuru [PART 1]

Well I never thought I would be writing something like this because mainly I wanted to use my blog to discuss Taichihaya because that’s all my biased ass is interested in is the romance. I’m a consistent bitch through and through, unlike some of y’all. But I feel this topic is a bit more of a pressing matter since currently people over on twitter have been fist fighting in PQRT over the ending (still lol). Which, you know my ass couldn’t stay out of because I love pissing myself off and being boo boo the fool.

Posting this again just as a petty reminder since I am sore winner.

One of the best tweets in recent memory was someone calling Taichihaya a tacked on wattpadd romance and was Suetsugu selling out to thirsty fans. I truly think it’s lovely people think that Suetsugu had so little integrity and would would spend 15 years on a manga and throw it down the drain in the final chapter! Nah, if that was the case and she genuinely wanted to placate everyone, I think she would have picked the friendship route. (Especially since Arata won the most recent online [ rigged ] popularity poll lmao I’m sure she was nervous as hell when that happened) If there was no romance conclusion then both Taichihayas and Chiharatas alike would be shrugging our shoulders and fighting in the parking lot behind a Burger King till the end times. Honestly, I’m so glad we don’t live in that timeline because I don’t think I could handle being a Taichihaya solider against these absolute units. Their stubborn persistence in their own biased reading of Chihayafuru is truly remarkable despite the thousands of arguments that have been thrown at them. I wish I was so uncritical in my life because my thoughts are constantly oscillating when presented with new information to try and get to the closest version of the “truth”. Which requires you to admit when you are wrong and not be blinded by your own hubris. Heh (I’m realizing now why people don’t like me considering I say shit like this completely straight)

Before we address some of the writing criticisms that have been thrown at the ending, let’s get this obligation out of the way: the ending is not perfect. No singular piece of media is and can ever be. But for what Suetsugu managed to accomplish and (IMO) hitting every necessary story beat in 80 pages is actually very impressive. I’ll be honest, I was at times shaking my head wondering how she could do it.

Suetsugu was writing this manga for 15 years and was trying to get to the ending as quickly as she could (originally she wanted it to end it in 49 volumes but got convinced by her editor to stretch it to 50 volumes which thank god). So using the words of someone else (who every so often says something that I regrettably agree with), I think we can all afford to give this mangaka a bit of grace.

At the same time no matter what the conditions were for the ending’s creation, the ending still is what it is and that doesn’t make it above criticism. But some of the criticisms I’ve had the pleasure to read (derogatory) have made me want to rip out my hair. I can’t even be nice, y’all are just being fuckin purposely obtuse, hypocritical, or partaking in bad faith cinema sins level criticism.

I can understand being frustrated as hell that things didn’t resolve the way you thought they would (trust me I’d still be crying to this day if Taichihaya wasn’t canon) but the actual hoops people have tried to jump through, like criticizing things that UP UNTIL THE LAST CHAPTER DID NOT BOTHER THEM IN THE SLIGHTEST, so they can point to anything other than what they are really mad about: that the ship they wanted to see didn’t end up happening and that Arata and Chihaya’s relationship not being romantical in the end has apparently no merit unless Chihaya told him EXPLICITLY at the end what a special little boy he is. I’d have more respect for some of you if you just came out and said it outright instead of being like every other theme and arc was also ruined by Chihaya’s confession lmao. I guess that’s just Chihaya’s power as a protagonist to ruin her own story by confessing. SHE IS A QUEEN IN EVERY SENSE. But of course people don’t want to say they were upset about the shipping b/c they spent how long (years?) tearing down those dastardly Taichihayas for only caring about that! Oh how the turntables.

Now I’m a chaotic individual and this entire thing is written purely in spite (I’m reading Skip Beat so I’m living my Kyoko fantasy) but before we get into the meat of my arguments; I’m going to break down the criticisms I’ve read about the ending into three categories:

1. Unresolved Plot Points

2. Unsatisfying conclusions to plot points

3. Things we should have seen but didn’t

I’m going to be discussing all three types of criticisms loose and free because thankfully I am not in academia anymore. So it’s going down, I’m yelling timberrrr. I just want to mention, with added emphasis, when I am discussing the criticisms filed under the third point- “things we should have seen but didn’t”, I want to acknowledge that it is ok for people to be sad about not seeing the thing they wanted to see. Even if thing wasn’t that important, and didn’t actually ruin the story.

I too had many things I wanted to see that Suetsugu did not feel necessary to include. Like yeah sure, I got my ship and even my crack ship (Arata x Sumire shippers manifesting their ship out of thin air like they were rubbing a lamp) yet I am greedy as hell. For all of our suffering as Taichihaya shippers (me for like 6 months some people for a literal decade) with Taichi and Chihaya being purposely kept apart in the story for literal years; at the end when they finally are a couple I wanted to see Taichihaya dating fluff and also their wedding (the way I felt so emboldened by reading the spin off for Eden No Hana that I truly believed it could happen). I should mention real quick that I sorta think ending a story with characters getting married is at this point a bit outdated and also kind of idk “tacky” yet the fervour I wanted to see a Taichihaya wedding made the feminism crawl back inside me and die. My life is filled with contradictions.

However, with things we want to see, to judge whether or it was necessary and or good to be included in the story we have to ask ourselves these questions: what does it add to the story? Is it necessary? What themes does it build? Is it redundant? Is it fun? Does it help resolve plot elements? Does it build characters? Etc etc etc

I actually do think some Taichihaya dating fluff would have been a nice way to wrap up the ending on a nice positive outlook for Chihaya and Taichi’s future together and provide a bit of breathing room after all the trauma and depression that’s happened (WE WERE SUFFERING FOR 100 CHAPTERS AND ALMOST 10 YEARS). I WASN’T EVEN ASKING FOR ANYTHING THAT DEEP IT COULD BE TAICHI AND CHIHAYA WALKING SIDE BY SIDE FOR A SINGLE PANEL HOLDING HANDS.

This could have been us and I would have been satisfied BUT NOooooo

IT would have been fkin nice, yet it wasn’t completely necessary. We kind of /got this/ with the slight time skip the end. You just have to squint your eyes and read it through subtext (something apparently Taichihayas are good at lmao).

With the final pages of the story we got: Taichi and Chihaya confirmed to be dating, them wearing tasukis together in the final spread (y’know as they did before as a team lmao), and Chihaya’s random hair change suggesting maybe they went on a date beforehand… Yeah these things suggest that the two of them are doing well despite living in different cities, attending different universities, and not even being able to see each other since they started dating (fk me up). Does it hurt me that’s all we got in the ending? You know it does. Do I completely agree with Yuki Suetsugu’s writing choice? No. I WANT A MORSEL OF FLUFF OF SOMETHING I AM A STARVING VICTORIAN CHILD AND I NEED A SINGLE CRUMB. The way we only got a single panel in the spin off chapter and it Taichi and Chihaya in the same tournament just a different angle… IT IS A CRIME BUT don’t worry about me, I’m completely fine yep CoOl as a cUcumber. We as a fandom expect nothing so we bounce off the walls when we are served air.

Ok what was the point of this rant? Oh, that we all want to see things for fun even when they don’t serve a purpose because it makes us happy and isn’t the point of stories… enjoyment? However, I’m going to be a dick and shit on your dreams because I didn’t get everything I wanted, why should you lmao.

But again, I do understand the lamenting at least.

Alright now I’m done the intro (if you can call all of that nonsense an intro) let’s discuss the actual criticisms. Again this is in no particular order and I won’t be addressing every single criticism I’ve ever read (like not even gonna touch the 2chan comments about Chihaya being a sl*t because I don’t feel like giving misogynists the time of day lmao) just the ones I feel like.

[ 1 ] Taichi’s Arc Was Ruined by Chihaya’s Confession

You know this would be the first thing I would address because I am the number one most die hard annoying Taichi fan (or at least I hope people think of me as so). I actually have an unfinished twitter thread on why Taichi’s arc wasn’t ruined, which will someday see the light of day, so for now I won’t go in as much detail (LMAO unfortunately this isn’t at all concise, the things I do for this fictional man).

Taichi’s character was apparently supposed to be the personification of a loser and Arata a winner. Y’know because Arata was bullied in his childhood and in a stylized reality that means you get everything you have ever wanted and the person who bullied you can never be redeemed instead has to be punished by the universe forever for the crimes of his youth. It’s just and completely fair, yes, if you make one mistake when you are 10 it will define you for the rest of your life.

Ok jokes aside, I think the majority of the fandom /kind of/ understood the vague outline of Taichi’s arc: it was about taking a risk and not being a coward. It actually takes a kind of vulnerability to actually put effort into something: whether that be a relationship or a sport because all of your hard work could literally amount to nothing. Losing only hurts if you care about winning. But winning only feels like a win when it is earned (maybe that’s why nobody cared that Arata got Meijin because his ass was at times too OP lmao). This applies both Karuta (Taichi’s initial belief that there was no point in taking Karuta seriously because he could never beat Arata) and in love (he dated some random girl he didn’t care about b/c it was easy).

So in that sense, I somewhat agree with Taichi’s arc was about appreciating the journey “to love that desperation” to keep trying and not take the easy way out. That getting rejected after you confess your feelings to the girl you’ve been in love since childhood and losing by a huge margin of 18 cards fkin sucks and will hurt so much; but that doesn’t make any of the time spent on it worthless. Not only that, but you can and should still keep trying. (In Karuta I mean. If you get rejected please don’t be like Arata and say lmao I’ll try again because I’m moving to your city to be closer to you)

Even though Taichi had a tenuous love/hate relationship with Karuta, At the end of the day, it still gave Taichi everything that is dear to him: his friends, teachers, and the dream to bet his whole youth. Hence why I will fight to say I that I do like the hug with Arata b/c Taichi finally got acknowledged by his rival (or his core). It just stings after Arata smoked Taichi’s ass with an 18 card victory lmao. Like on the one hand yippee Arata acknowledged him… on the other Arata giving a hug still reads a bit patronizing sorry idc. I love and hate the hug. I look at the panel of them hugging and I’m like aww my babies :) then I read the whole arc and I’m liek TAKE YOUR FKIN HUG ARATA AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS. Sorry I got off topic there. (Unfortunately this is neither the first or last time that will happen).

The ending wraps up Taichi’s arc perfectly because he spent the whole manga not really having a firm Karuta “dream” (goal?) of his own (he kind of does but it’s too complex to get into right now so for simplicity’s sake we’ll say this). He watched his friends make a pact to become Meijin and Queen and though he basically facilitated this moment, he was not included. The “outsider”, the one left behind while Chihaya and Arata had bond through their Karuta dream.

No Taichi did not need to be symbolically made the reader at the end of the story- this was the perfect use of the childhood imagery to show how Taichi felt like the worthless one in their friend group.

Taichi had every reason to quit Karuta after he got his single win against Arata (and also because Chihaya had “rejected” him). Instead, seeing his friends accomplish their dreams inspired him to keep trying. (Hence his practice swings in the hallway). Then at the end of it all he challenged Arata that he would come back next year and take the Meijin title, throwing himself back into Karuta after his most devastating 18 card loss. The difference now from before lies in Taichi’s motivations. Before he wanted to win for other people: he wanted Suou to visit his family and he wanted to see Chihaya’s win from the closest spot. Which is not necessarily a bad reason to do things, but a central theme of Chihayafuru from the first chapter is making a dream for YOURSELF. So when he finally challenges Arata at the end it’s the perfect ending to his arc because he’s doing it for nobody else other than himself. He’s already lost the chance to win Chihaya’s love through Karuta and Suou has visited with his family that he’s been avoiding for all these years.

Alright so now that we’ve covered his Karuta arc, so what about the romance arc? Obviously, Taichi was a loser there too because he got rejected after confessing his feelings to Chihaya (until Chihaya pulled an uno reverse at the end).

Immediately after getting rejected, Taichi distanced himself from Chihaya and also the club completely cutting himself off from all of them (mostly). But this action was never narratively treated as Taichi trying to punish Chihaya. SO MANY PEOPLE interpreted this action as emotional manipulation since OOO he hurt her feelings. Yeah, her feelings were hurt and so were his? If he was actually manipulating her, then he’d have to have some underlying goal he was trying to accomplish? Taichi was basically like me very sad and right now I don’t want to be around Chihaya anymore or my friends or the sport I loathe (but love) because I’m not a superhuman robot and I do have feelings and those feelings right now are suffocating me fdkcnkjac. HE NEVER ONCE ACTED LIKE THIS WAS SOME MASTER SCHEME TO GET HER TO LOVE HIM OR TEACH HER A LESSON AS REVENGE FOR HURTING HIM. He just needed space because he wanted to figure out who he was and also at this point his perfect grades were suffering. Chihaya’s rejection wasn’t the only thing that made him quit the club anyways- he was already going through a downwards spiral LONG BEFORE THIS starting with his loss against Chihaya at Yoshino. Chihaya’s rejection was just the final drop in a cup that was already too full. It was going to spill over regardless and Chihaya’s love wouldn’t have saved him.

In fact Taichi never brought up his rejection to her at all. The only scene that we got where Taichi truly acted poorly (and even then it didn’t really affect Chihaya) was when he derived some satisfaction of knowing that Chihaya was hurting because of him. It’s a very real emotion even if it’s an ugly one; which I’m sure we’ve all felt at sometime in our life… But it’s a feeling which he himself feels guilty about having. Because maybe… he doesn’t actually… Want to hurt Chihaya? But because he thinks the worst of himself, the fact he even felt momentarily good that she might be hurting too, makes him not want to ever be apart of Chihaya’s life anymore (he can’t go back). Yes this is all apart of his master scheme where he selfishly thinks that he doesn’t even deserve to be in Chihaya’s life! Taichi the incel or whatever.

Taichi and Chihaya did eventually start mending their relationship slowly and gradually over the course of the last 100 chapters. Taichi came back to watch Chihaya win against Arata, he apologized for ditching the club, they cleaned the clubroom together (things accumulated), and then they played as a team in the Qualifiers and Challengers. Taichi had time to process the rejection but based on the final chapter, and tbh EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER AFTER 205, seeing Chihaya and Arata side by side accomplishing their dreams and looking like an amazing couple (y’know thing he wanted for himself) hurts him even if he is also simultaneously happy for them. Taichi is written like a human being and not a happy go lucky robot that can take every single L in life and be better off for it.

Part of Taichi’s initial motivations for becoming good at Karuta were toxic: he wanted to get good so that Chihaya could notice him and then maybe she would fall in love with him. Since Taichi knew Chihaya was a “Karuta Baka” and seemingly only got flustered when she saw someone with skill (for example her first “crush” was on her married sensei LMAO).

Like was Taichi himself CLEARLY THINKS THAT CHIHAYA NEEDS A KARUTA MAN TO LOVE. Which he’s kinda right about at least initially lol.

So for Taichi actually the most important thing was not to “get over” his love for Chihaya, in fact what Taichi needed to find his own reasons to play Karuta outside of Chihaya’s love. Almost like it might have been linked to a void speech Or sOMething.

In the end, he FINALLY picks himself and his feelings by moving away instead of doing everything in his life for Chihaya’s sake (and lol he was never gonna stay in Tokyo just for Arata be serious). Which to me is not a bad idea, considering how much of his feelings he still carried the distance would help him be able to move on. It would not be good for anyone for him to remain in Tokyo being completely miserable and jaded while your two friends are in the beginning stages of their relationship (cause yeah Taichi the #1 strongest Chiharata believer in the manga). He was stepping away at least partially for their sakes as well.

Nor do I consider his decision to leave Tokyo a “cowardly” move? Taichi is leaving behind his life, his friends, his sensei(s), and his family and moving to someplace completely new. That takes bravery. Arata at least has a support network in Tokyo (outside of Chihaya and Taichi even!) like Hydro, Nishida, and the Shirinami society… who tf does Taichi even know in Kyoto lmao.

Unfortunately Taichi was not completely ok by the end of the manga. Sorry, it didn’t fit into your neat little timeline for when you thought Taichi should be comfortable being the third wheel for his two Karuta baka friends. He has the self esteem of a broken kite. Badum tsssss.

Nor was it like he dropped the news that he was moving away with the intention of hurting Chihaya even more and manipulating her to fall in love with him.

Taichi if he was still in his villain arc: “don’t call me. Don’t come to my house. We’re done.”

In Taichi and Chihaya’s final conversation in the clubroom Taichi doesn’t hide that he’s moving and states he simply needs a change of scenery but assures Chihaya that they will surely see each other again because they will always have Karuta. That is the exact same promise they made to each other as they were kids; a promise of everlasting friendship through their shared passions.

Sure, one could argue, because he wasn’t in Tokyo, they wouldn’t be as close as they before the break up and therefore he “didn’t really give her their friendship back”… BUT TAICHI AND CHIHAYA WOULD NEVER BE AS CLOSE as they were in high school!! In high school they were able to see each other every single day. BUT even if Taichi had stayed in Tokyo, all of them (Arata included) would be going to different universities. They would all be busy with their own studies and would probably only see each other at the Shirinami society (if Taichi and Chihaya only remained friends). So to be honest the distance only really stings if they decided to date (which they did so fk me upppp). Like it’s part of growing up, you don’t get to see your school friends as often anymore. It sucks, but that’s the way life is. But that doesn’t mean your friendship is worthless because you don’t live in the same city anymore? WE HAVE CELLPHONES.

We can debate all we want if Taichi wouldn’t have moved to Kyoto IF Chihaya confessed earlier but ultimately it doesn’t change the fact that in the end he put his feelings first. Which is what he should do!! HE SHOULD NOT ROLL OVER AND GET STEAM ROLLED BY TRYING TO LIVE HIS LIFE SELFLESSLY FOR ARATA AND CHIHAYA FCK YOU.

Off topic rant: but when Arata announced to Taichi that he was moving to Tokyo why did people think that it was something Arata did for Taichi? At that point TAICHI DEADASS THOUGHT TO HIMSELF SCREW YOU ARATA YOU’RE MY ENEMY. Arata did not know how to read the fking room it was lowkey embarrassing for him!! He didn’t ask Taichi if he wanted him there he assumed that they all wanted the trio back together. At this point in time TAICHI DID NOT.

However, the most important reason why it didn’t ruin Taichi’s arc is that Chihaya’s confession is not framed as Taichi’s “reward” for being cool with them being friends. Chihaya’s agency is at the forefront of her confession - it’s absolutely her choice. It’s the culmination of Chihaya’s arc of self discovery and finally being able to express her feelings with the help of her friends and finally knowing what those feelings are. She had been pondering her damn feelings for Taichi for 100 chapters like I’m very sorry that you missed it- but that’s on you

Just because it’s an annoying trope in other media where the rejected boy was the one the protagonist wanted all along does not instantly make it bad when it appears in a story… you have to look at how it’s executed. I know you some of you wanted a “progressive” story where the rejected boy “friend friend” would continue just be your closest friend even after getting rejected. But if that’s what you wanted, we got that with Arata? So like… huh. Why does it NEED to be Taichi? Is the universe who has it out for him or is it you because you hate him.

Chihaya’s confession wasn’t about Taichi’s feelings nor Arata’s but hers and hers alone so stfu about it “ruining Taichi’s arc” bitch ass what? It only ruins his arc if you were grading it under the incorrect assumption that Taichi’s big lesson was that he needed to be a loser in every aspect of life while Arata is a special boy who did nothing wrong ever therefore gets everything <3 IT WAS NEVER IMPLIED THAT SUETSUGU WAS WRITING TAICHI THIS WAY NOR IS THIS THEME THROWN OUT IF TAICHI IS THE ONE WHO GETS LOVED BACK? WHY DOES HE NEEDED TO BE A LOSER IN EVERYTHING?? HE ALREADY LOST IN KARUTA AND MADE PEACE WITH “LOSING” IN LOVE. I think it’s better actually that disappointment in life was split between two characters (Arata and Taichi) because it’s realistic that every character faces some disappointment in their life and has learn to cope?

Which is a perfect Segway to my next point:

[ 2 ] Arata needed to be formally rejected (again but better)

In the hell that is Chihayafuru discourse land where there are clowns on either side of the argument: there are two camps when it comes to Chihaya’s “answer” (or not a reply) to Arata’s confession. There are those who believe that Arata was never rejected that Chihaya instead said “wait until after I am Queen and then I’ll reject you” and there are those who believe Arata had already been soft rejected in ch 173.

It was funny the collective breakdown the other side had when Suetsugu said in a now deleted tweet that Arata had been soft rejected here and he knew it… THIS WAS HIS RESPONSE? SO MUCH FOR THEIR BOUNDARY RESPECTING KING

I was, of course, in the camp that believed that Arata had been soft rejected in this moment because Chihaya said “this is what’s up right right now” and mentioned nothing about having feelings for him. She just wanting to accomplish her dream and be the best in the world at Karuta. Saying “I’m focusing on other things” is actually not an uncommon way to let down people in Japan since it is more polite than saying outright that you’re not interested. Moreover, Chihaya never asks him to wait for a response… You’ll notice he says all of that about “coming closer” to her unprovoked. But I’m not discussing whether or not this was a rejection (this time). For the sake of the argument, let’s say Arata wasn’t rejected here… Then what.

This is apparently what people wanted Chihaya to say to him:

“Arata I realized at chapter 93 that I will always love you and Karuta but I actually lied to myself. You see I wanted to bait the omniscient presence that watches over my life because I like making people look like clowns. But yeah, don’t worry not all is lost I do love you but maybe like a friend though not a lover. Even though your confession was the one I preferred because it was like a marriage proposal. Anyways at least you’re Meijin and I am so utterly grateful for you all you’ve done for me like introducing me to the sport. Thanks so much for being the biggest support of me like when you made a team so I could beat your ass. Anyways learn how to use your phone ok? Love ya but not that way bye!”

Ok sorry LOL moving on. So the camp that thinks Chihaya did not reject Arata in that moment, did everyone think that Chihaya’s answer to his confession was “yes” and that she knew in that moment but she wanted to wait until after she had accomplished her dream to tell him so? GOD IT’S SO HARD TO EVEN ADDRESS CRITICISMS OF THE ENDING WITHOUT HAVING TO BREAK DOWN WHY THESE BELIEFS HAD NO PROPER FOUNDATION TO STAND ON TO BEGIN WITH. Because if Chihaya knew in that moment that she loved Arata back, wouldn’t she have said “this is an answer to your response” or MAYBE she would have said something along what Rion said to Makoto.

LIKE SENSEI DIDN’T PUT THIS IN FOR FUNSIES IT WAS TO TRY AND HELP PUT THE PIECES TOGETHER YOURSELF. “IS IT BETTER NOT TO SAY THIS NOW?”

So anyways, Chihaya did not promise after becoming the best in Japan that she would respond to him with a yes. In fact, she never said she would respond to him at all? So…

With the two added pages off in the Tankobon, it became clear that Chihaya didn’t even have all of her feelings sorted out by the time she became Queen. So we can simply write off Arata needing to be formally rejected directly after he won Meijin because Chihaya did not know yet how she felt. Thank you so much Suetsugu for that.

Which even if she had fully sorted her feelings and decided that she loved Tacihi… I agree with the notion that it would actually be super shitty for Chihaya to ruin probably the best day of Arata’s life with a rejection? Like “congrats on the win buddy, anyways I don’t love you! Ok BYE”

Like why would you think that is a better outcome for him? But I get it, this would be the last moment Chihaya and Arata would see each other before uni because of the simple fact he lived in Fukui so if she was going to say something in person then it would have to be there.

But thankfully Arata gave Chihaya a little more leniency, to you know, let him know how she felt (if it was any different) when he moved to Tokyo. So quite frankly it’s not even like he asked her to respond to him after she became best in the world EITHER.

So then the alternative to telling him in person would be to what… Text Arata the moment Chihaya and Taichi started dating? PLEASE HOW WOULD A TEXT BE BETTER? I don’t know, YOU GUYS ALWAYS SAID Arata was apparently pretty chill waiting too? So it’s not like he was urgently fading away and they were so heartless for not texting him the MOMENT they got together. What is he, the Jesus in their relationship?

I just wanted a reason to put this meme here

So I think honestly the best thing was in fact to tell Arata TOGETHER the next time Taichi and Chihaya saw him in person. Chihaya did not need to pull him aside alone and have a deep conversation and tell him his worth to her as a friend? Their relationship would actually remain the same because the thing Arata did want the most was a future where the three of them (the trio) could be together whereas TAICHI WANTED A FUTURE ALONE WITH CHIHAYA.

Like for example Taichi even though he had more time to process his rejection it’s not like him and Chihaya ever had a heart to heart about what happened either so it’s odd you think Taichi would have not needed one but Arata should have?

I also think Arata probably won’t need as much time to process the rejection because he’s already been established to brush off adversary quickly. Plus let’s give him a little credit he’s been waiting for almost a year for a response for his confession like… The guy should have had time to think perhaps Chihaya’s answer would be no with how long it took to get back to him. Does that make him a bit pathetic? Yeah. And that’s ok because I love a pathetic man.

Taichi’s presence was probably also needed because when you think about it last time Chihaya tried to reject Arata he said “just you wait I’m coming to be closer to you”. SO maybe she thought oh if my boyfriend is here he’ll take it as a clearer no… BUT THEN ARATA STILL MADE THAT JOKE ABOUT WINNING HER AT 28 REGARDLESS. Like Arata my little bi disaster please you’re not helping your own case cdndkncj. But honestly no hate to Arata using comedy to cope. WHY DO YOU THINK I AM SO FUNNY?? I learned at a young age if you make fun of the way people make fun of you that their insults hurt less. Wow I’m dropping my trauma in the essay about the ending of Chihayafuru I’m so classy.

But the biggest thing is CHIHAYA SHOULD NOT HAVE TO REJECT ARATA BEFORE CONFESSING TO THE GUY SHE LIKES. Like you guys are fricking weird placing more importance over Arata’s feelings INSTEAD OF THE MAIN CHARACTERS?? IT’S HER ARC OF SELF DISCOVERY AND I WOULD NOT HAVE EXPECTED HER TO GO BACK AND TALK TO TAICHI BEFORE ACCEPTING ARATA’S CONFESSION EITHER.

It’s funny coming from the people being like “I SHIP THE SHIP WHERE THE GIRL CLEARLY LIKES THE GUY AND YOU LOSERS ARE NOT RESPECTING HER AGENCY CAUSE SHE REJECTED THE OTHER” the way that broke down when the character picked the one you didn’t like or even consider could be still in the running.

So no, the story didn’t need Arata to be re-rejected in a more formal manner in the ways you guys are suggesting. However, I do think some aftermath for Arata’s story was actually necessary as he didn’t feel like he fully “grew up” compared to Taichi and Chihaya. Then my wish was granted because in the spin off chapter we see Arata coping with his heartbreak and moving to a new city without the expectation having his childhood trio back again.

LIKE in the spin off Chihaya, Taichi, and Arata’s relationship is honestly the best it’s ever been? They text each other more frequently (Arata learned how to use his cellphone) and Arata even talks to Chihaya without stumbling over his words and being awkward. It was so refreshing.

Obviously Arata was hurting a bit. After all, it was his first heartbreak and he spent idk 2 years with a crush on Chihaya? Now that he’s in Tokyo he’s feeling… lonely. Which is ironic because when he was in Fukui he felt loneliness because of the distance. Even so, moving to Tokyo was actually good for him because he is making new connections. Now he has a super cute girlfriend named Sumire who finally can appreciate HOW HOT ARATA IS and be the little spoon he has always wanted. The end! <3

I know most people hate the idea of “pair the spares” but Arata and Sumire have the most compatible zodiac signs so it’s not MY fault it’s written in the stars??? But honestly they aren’t “paired” together in the end, just that hey life moves on and Suetsugu is saying there are plenty other opportunities for love (except Suetsugu did confirm to me personally that Arata and Sumire got married so sorry bye).

Unfortunately there is more to say about Arata’s rejection though (which I am breaking up into smaller points).

2.1 - THE TONE OF ARATA’S “REJECTION”

I think one of the biggest problems with Arata’s “rejection” (or simply the confirmation that he didn’t get another shot when he moved to Tokyo) is the tone. I don’t think Suetsugu intentionally meant to make it funny (I can’t say for sure)… However, the abruptness of it IS SO COMEDIC FUNNIEST PART OF THE CHAPTER FR.

Like when I first heard that Arata was rejected by Chihaya and Taichi telling him they were dating, I actually thought this can’t be serious and someone was making a joke. BUT IT WAS REAL. It goes from a beautifully deep line from Chihaya’s confession to Arata saying “WAIT A SECOND YOU TWO ARE DATING??” THE WHIPLASH SDKJNDKJ

Like I’m sorry IT IS SO FUNNYYYYYY the million periods on that one page was for me because I was in disbelief.

I think the problem here is due to the absolute ROCKET SPEED pace of the final chapter. For whatever reason, everything needed to happen in the final chapter with little breathing room. I don’t know if I agree with that writing choice… I think the story could have benefitted from stretching this stuff out over 2-3 chapters.

In my perfect world, there would maybe be a bit of set up and wouldn’t go from profoundly beautiful line that had me wiping my tears to comedy? Maybe have Chihaya and Taichi planning to tell Arata to show that they care about him? (Even though their expressions say that they feel very guilty and awkward about it). So then it feels less like a joke and more like two friends awkwardly trying to explain to their friend that they are dating and break his heart gently.

To be honest who even knows if Taichi and Chihaya walked up with the intention of telling him they were dating (again what is he a parent they need permission from?) Maybe Arata saw something and inquired? Maybe they were caught off guard and were going to tell him after the tournament or something. Again, it’s not clear LMAO. What was important were these two facts: that the story ended with Arata knowing he wouldn’t have a chance with Chihaya and that Chihaya and Taichi did in fact start dating.

So for those who thought Arata’s feelings of love were very serious and profound and deserve to be treated with respect I can understand hell I can even respect why the comedic tone of his “rejection” would upset you. Even I was slightly /expecting/ a private conversation… not whatever this was.

However, again I think people projected that Arata’s feelings for Chihaya were a lot deeper then what they actually were. Perhaps this abrupt reaction is meant to say that his feelings were not as deep as people thought and he is a person who is able to brush it off and be happy for his friends? I guess he has more emotional maturity in that way… But he still has to make his stinky little joke. He’s 18 years old and I forgive him.

It’s his growth!! He looks like he’s about to throw hands with Taichi but instead he sticks with his incel joke!

I do get also why people were led to believe there would be some epic conclusion or at least thoughtful rejection because Arata still confessed to Suou that he was playing alongside the girl he liked. So it’s the result of the love triangle being kept so strictly ambiguous to the bitter end (after 246 you should have known but ok) that really did make some people look like clowns at the end. I admit, it could have easily been me, in your shoes. But I acknowledged my clowndom at every turn, so if it all backfired on me I could have left with a morsel of my pride.

So essentially yeah I think the tone being comedic was /probably/ the wrong choice. (Again what happened wasn’t comedic it was the abruptness which was comedic). However the tone was fine for me though. I liked having a little laugh after all of the trauma this manga put me through. Arata king you’re the funniest little guy fr.

2.2- ARATA’S STINKY JOKE

I don’t hate that Arata made a lighthearted joke and teased Taichi one last time after getting rejected (like the demon of Karuta he is). What I hated is the content of the joke. It felt very “wink wink nudge nudge” to the reader- like haha Taichi and Chihaya are long distance now and their proximity was THE ONLY REASON THEY FELL IN LOVE! (It never was).

You see I am of the belief that Arata blamed things outside of his control (living in Fukui) rather than focusing on the things he could control. Like responding to fking emails or text messages OR GIVING CHIHAYA YOUR NUMBER AND NOT TAICHI, BITCH BOY?? (I’m fine).

Like he is like “I am so lonely because I am not next to my friends” instead of trying to make friends with the people who lived around him too? Like ARATA I really feel for you, because you just like me fr.

So yeah, Arata’s joke did not land for me. It could go, and I would be happier. Also it makes Arata look like he didn’t have his moment of growing up even though his he was managing his negative emotions very well while his heart was being stomped on (those who know, know).

Let me reiterate, I don’t hate the fact that he made a joke, just that particular joke I dislike. My joke of choice: “haha you guys only announced it now because you want the Meijin to fumble in the tournament, nice try I’ll smoke your asses”

2.3 WHAT ABOUT CHIHAYA’S GROWTH?

This is the only argument I can /somewhat/ get behind. That if Chihaya had been able to reject Arata in a more formal manner then it would show how much she has grown. Yes, because one of Chihaya’s central themes is that she doesn’t know how to express herself at least in words and has a difficulty forming connections with people.

That’s why she clings to Karuta because it makes it easier for her to connect. However, I’m not too too mad that Chihaya still continues to have difficulty expressing herself. She told Taichi she loved him with a simple “I love you” and she rejects Arata with “I am dating Taichi”. Though simple, in both cases they clearly express Chihaya’s feelings.

That brings us to the whole thing of people being like “BUT SHE WROTE ARATA POEMS!!!” Like it’s some kind of GOTCHA that Chihaya always loved Arata and the author “forgot” INSTEAD OF IT BEING PURPOSEFUL? The point was her poetry was VERY BAD and that she still even there couldn’t express how she was feeling very well. SHE COULDN’T WRITE A POEM.

So while Chihaya has grown it is not so on the nose that by the time she leaves high school she is a perfectly articulated person with an elegance to with her words… Sometimes that is a struggle you work on for your entire life. The point is she has grown from the start, instead of forgetting Arata’s confession for like what was it 6 months? She makes sure to tell him the minute she sees him in person. Eyyyoo. Also she continued to reflect on her feelings and thought about love not just being the person you want to play in Karuta but something more profound.

I also think the bond that Chihaya and Arata shared was about as clear as the bond Taichi and Chihaya shared. Chihaya never explicitly discussed how important Taichi was to her to him EVEN IN HER CONFESSION… so why should she have to tell Arata that he’s important???

Then there was this idea that Chihaya needed to “earn” back Arata’s friendship after rejecting him (by telling him of his importance). DO YOU PEOPLE EVEN HEAR YOURSELF?? You said Taichi shouldn’t have quit the club, he should have suffered through it and not received a single thing from Chihaya but yeah Chihaya needed to EARN Arata’s friendship. BE SERIOUS LISTEN TO THE WORDS COMING OUT OF YOUR MOUTH AND THEN REFLECT ON YOUR OWN SHORTCOMINGS!! I CAN’T DO IT FOR YOU NO MORE.

Like there is just so many double standards for the way people wanted Arata to be treated vs. how they were cool with the way that evil villain Taichi was treated.

TL;DR

Arata did not need a private conversation with Chihaya where she reassured him of his worth as her friend or their platonic love. It parallels the simple way Chihaya communicated her feelings with Taichi. Arata did however need to be given time to “grow up” but it did actually happen in the bonus chapter. We see how the three of them have mended their friendship despite going down different paths- they are united though Karuta. I do think there is some merit to the idea that Arata’s rejection would benefit from a few more pages of set up so the tone wouldn’t be so comedic.

Overall there are some flaws in how Arata’s rejection was executed but nothing that breaks the story. Unless you were very invested in the seriousness of Arata’s feelings of love. You guys said you can’t find your soulmate at 18 you know that applies for Chiharata too right??

I’m crying because I’ve only really broken down two points of criticism and yet I’ve been talking shit for so long. SO unfortunately there will be a part 2 to this discussion that I will write /someday/ because I have only just scratched the surface. Just it probably won’t happen very soon because I AM TIRED GRANDPA.

But if you do want to see it like you’re gonna have to respond to this wall of text otherwise I won’t do it this took me so fking long LMAO.

SPECIAL THANKS TO @/AIMEEEFACE ON TWITTER FOR BOUNCING IDEAS AND I MAY HAVE INCORPORATED SOME OF HER THOUGHTS HERE ON MANY OCCASIONS

Thanks Charles Outty

#chihayafuru #Chihayafuru manga #chihayafuru spoilers #chihaya ayase #taichihaya #chihayafuru thoughts #taichi mashima #Chihayafuru ending #Chihayafuru ch 247 #manga #arata wataya

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mangoshorthand · 1 month

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Arrow of Time- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Chapter 9 (Hard Feelings Part 5)

SUMMARY: When the mother of all teenage tantrums causes time itself to fracture, Five has to travel back to 1831 to repair the damage. But will he be able to cope with what he finds there? On to Chapter 10 >> << Back to Chapter 8

Armed with all the information he needs, Five arrives at Lafayette Place, Bond Street. Meanwhile, you have a decision to make.

Chapter 9: A Mutual Dislike

Five blinks into the house without a care for being seen. He wants to be seen. He’s here to get his wife and break some fucking heads.

The interior of Lafayette Place is bizarre. It’s as if a Maharaja married Liberace and moved into the Library of Congress. Five eyes the marbled pillars, elephant statues and plush, gilded furnishings with furious distaste.

He can hear raised voices from one of the rooms. Before entering, he lurks in the hallway.

"-can stand the humiliation when it’s confined only to my household, but when you make a fool of me in front of everyone-”

“But Anne, you’re asking Mary to perjure herself. I understand your anger but I’d never thought you’d stoop to such petty revenge!”

He leaves this room until last, searching the house stealthily. He doesn’t find you in the servants’ quarters. He does, however, find nine others, all of whom end up restrained and gagged by various methods. It’s like he doesn’t notice himself doing it: one minute he’s creeping up behind the butler and the next he’s shoving the final maid’s cap into her mouth alongside the others.

It’s regrettable to have to restrain them and leave them tied there, but it’s for the best that they be unable to do anything that might put them at risk in the confrontation he’s promised himself. Eventually, after searching every room in the place, he’s forced to conclude that you’re not there unless you’re in the parlor where he heard the arguing couple, (Sir Lewis and Lady Anne Danforth, according to letters he’s found scattered around the property).

Another blink and he’s standing in the parlor, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. There he is . For sure, Lewis is the same man he saw last night.

Both the room’s occupants start upon his sudden appearance. The man steps instinctively in front of his wife, placing himself in between her and the intruder. Five feels adrenaline buzzing in each finger as he withdraws the Glok from his pocket.

Clearly, they recognize this item as a gun, the terror in their faces redoubling as they focus on it. Five hears the woman take a deep breath, ready to shout for help or let out a scream.

“Unless you want your brain splattered all over that gaudy wallpaper, I'd suggest you keep quiet.” he says. Although he wants to scream and shake the gun wildly, trigger discipline wins out. He keeps his voice and arm resolutely steady. The woman only whimpers, the sound dying in her throat.

Satisfied, Five turns his eyes resolutely to Danforth, “I think you know my wife.”

“Your wife? There must be some mistake,” says the man, hands held palms forward either side of his head, “I don’t know you, sir, I know nothing of your wife.”

“Oh, that’s right,” said Five, sarcastically, advancing and grinning wide now, “how rude of me not to introduce myself! Lewis Danforth, right? My name’s Hargreeves, fucknut. Starting to get the picture? I got a funny feeling you and my wife know one another.

“You…last night, I saw you in the billiard room…” he says, still shielding his wife as recognition dawns.

“Well done, asshole. ” Five whispers, spit flying between his clenched teeth and landing on Lewis’s collar, “did you enjoy fucking her? I hope you did because once I shoot your cock off, you’re gonna have to live off memories.”

Five laughs cruelly as Lewis immediately cups his crotch in an instinctive protective gesture.

The smell of unwashed bodies is oppressive. At least thirty women sit in there, waiting to be processed. One, an old woman smelling strongly of urine and spirits, is singing the same few lines of a song repeatedly in a dry reedy, wavering voice:

“...Mid pleasures and palaces, tho we may roam- ”

The holding cell is huge and cavernous. Hallways run either side of it; the door to the cell leads from one hallway while high barred and recessed windows onto the other let in in the room’s only light; dim now with the coming of evening. Wooden benches line thick plastered walls. The single latrine, on display in the middle of one of the walls, affords an unfortunate user no privacy whatsoever.

Fuck 1831: you’re done with it.

“- Be it ever so humble there’s no place-”

“Hold your noise, you mad old bat!” shrieks one of the other detainees, sliding her leg along the bench to give the old woman a little shove.

“ -like home…” she finishes, vaguely.

You lean against one of the dank walls and lock eyes with the woman beside you on the bench. She’s young and pretty, if a bit disheveled. Blonde ringlets frame her blue eyes. She smiles slightly and you return the gesture.

“What are you here for?” she asks, without preamble, “you look like you work for the upper crust.”

“Stealing.” you mutter, “falsely accused.”

“No need to lie to me,” she smiles warmly, eyes alight with cheeky humor, “I’m not the judge.”

You look up at her to find smiling at you companionably. She reminds you of Lila: she has the same impishness. The comparison makes you warm to her immediatey and you smile right back at her. It’s probably the first non-judgmental conversation you’ve had with another woman since you arrived here. It’s a nice feeling of solidarity.

“What about you?” you ask.

She looks down at her clothes and then back up at you as if that would explain it. She wears a bright pink dress, its low cut on the shoulders and her breasts are only made decent for this time period by a green shawl around her shoulders. When you still look none-the-wiser, her smile turns knowing.

“Vagrancy.” she smirks, “caught down an alley in consultation with a gentleman about services rendered.”

“Ah.” you say, cottoning on.

You stick out your hand and introduce yourself. She takes it with bemused good humor and shakes it.

“Selina,” she replies, a little taken aback “I’m surprised that a respectable servant like you wants to know me!”

“We girls have to stick together,” you say, “this place is a shitshow.”

“Exactly!” she giggles, “All girls together. I like that.”

She pauses, leaning her head back against the wall too.

“That’ll teach me to stick to the tavern- safer there…only business has been a bit thin recently.”

You hum sympathetically. Life can’t be easy for a sex worker in this day and age. You thought it was bad enough having to dodge Lewis’s grasping hands but you were lucky to have not gone down the same route as her.

“I had a gent on the hook for a few days,” she mutters, talking as much to herself as to you, “looked like he’d pay handsomely…handsome himself too, which makes for a nice change…but it didn’t pan out so I had to go further afield." she pauses, looking down contemplatively at her feet, "he was a strange man.”

“What happened?” you ask idly. You may as well make conversation: it’s rare to have the opportunity to talk to someone so friendly and unreserved in this life.

“He bolted just before he could hand over his cash.”

You make a sympathetic noise concerned, “He ran off without paying?"

"No, I wasn't born yesterday. I take cash up front."

You share a small laugh here. "It was probably for the best," you say, "if he was as strange as you say, he could have given you trouble.”

She rocked her head from side to side, seeming to weigh the idea and not find it quite accurate.

“He was just odd. Changeable. Looking daggers one minute and smiling the next.” she paused thoughtfully, “He had a squabble with the wife, I should think. Only I’d guess he’s one of those fools who actually love their wives, if you can imagine such a thing.” (you laugh), “…and there I was thinking the rich only married for more money.”

She finished musingly, as if not unhappy to have this realization. Then, she shrugged and sighed, stretching out on the bench as if in a sauna rather than a police holding cell.

“You’re right: it probably was for the best. If they’re using you to get revenge, they’ve got a nasty habit of crying midway through or not being able to get their little captain to stand to attention. They can be funny about wanting a refund in that situation and I don’t like hassle.”

You laugh again, delighted by her dry and frank way of talking, but then the jingle of heavy, rusted keys in the lock catches all the inmates’ attention.

“I’ve been looking for you.” says a cold voice from outside the cell.

Aoife hurried back into the study where Lila and Diego abruptly broke off their conversation. Her mind raced as she tucked her thumbs into the waistband of her sweatpants and began to pace the same stretch of turkish rug her father had trodden only minutes before.

“I heard what you were talking about: Dad’s plan isn’t working. Time isn’t healing itself, right?”

Lila looked pained. With a quick glance between Diego and Luther and then a look down at Five’s broken Temporal Ambimeter, she decides to be open:

“No.” she admitted, “but he’ll have it sorted in no time, darling, so don’t-”

Aoife waved an impatient hand to silence her. Lila would have been affronted by this were it not for how cute this mannerism was coming from an actual thirteen year old - were the fact she was Five’s daughter ever in doubt, this would be conclusive proof.

She turns authoritatively to her uncles: “I’ve been reading your Dad’s journals on you all, only Dad’s for 1997 is missing: do either of you know where it is?”

Luther frowned, “He had annual journals?”

“Yeah…they’re right over there.” she said, pointing at the glass-fronted cabinet by the wall, “did you not know?”

“No?”

She looked at her uncles slightly pityingly before continuing.

“Well, there should be thirteen for Dad but there are only twelve and it’s the eighth one that’s missing. In number seven, he was still trying to get Dad to develop his time travel skills, but by the ninth he’s just focusing on spatial blinks- there’s not a word about time travel.”

“Oh,” Diego says. He seems to think for a moment before saying, “What are my journals like?”

“Not exactly flattering,” broke in Lila, “I read them just after Santi was born. They’re not worth the paper they’re written on.” she turned to Aoife now, “I know you want to help but you’re barking up the wrong tree. Your Dad’s pretty good with this stuff. If he wasn’t, you and your Mum wouldn’t even be here.”

“But-”

“She’s right Aoife,” said Luther, sternly, “I get that you’re feeling bad about all this but let your Dad and Lila solve this, okay?”

“But, I think-”

“You really don't think you’ve done enough ?” said Lila, flaring up.

As Aoife’s lip trembled, Diego shot Lila a disapproving glare. Before he could move to comfort her, Aoife blinked from the room.

He begs, spits blood and tries to deny it over and over again, even with the toe of Five’s shoe pressing into his larynx.

“I h-h-ave not- I do not know your wife in that way, sir. Please- have mercy on an old man.”

“Bullshit,” Five spits, suddenly releasing his throat and aiming pointed toes directly at his balls.

Though his wife is tied up on the floor like her servants downstairs, Five has left Danforth loose: it’s more satisfying to see him flop like a rag doll.

“No,” he wheezes, rolling into a fetal position to protect himself. “I-I swear. She and I have had private interviews in my study which may be described as…improper for master and servant but-”

Five kicks him again, in the back of the head this time.

“ Tell me the truth , ” he says, imperiously, sounding mad even to his own ears.

Lady Danforth interrupts, eyes rolling in terror.

“For God’s sake, Lewis, what use is it to lie?”

“Please,” said Sir Lewis, trying to protect his head from further blows, “Please don’t! I’ll…I’ll tell you all but you must stop!”

Five pauses his attack with difficulty, thrusting clenched fists in his pockets and looking down on the man beneath him with an expectant look, daring him to lie. He takes several deep, wheezy breaths and tries to explain.

“It was just a flirtation, slight on her side. I-I’m an old man. It gives one…distinction among one’s friends if -”

“ Lewis, tell him!” Lady Danforth sounds desperate now, her shrill voice echoing off the high ceiling. Five’s voice rumbles along with it.

“ Stop lying.” He draws out the words, enjoying the terror on both of their faces. “What, you think I’m dumb , you lying fuck? I heard you, remember!”

Sir Lewis sobs, hands out in surrender again. He takes a few deep, shuddering breaths and looks at his wife before responding.

“All right, all right . Just please , leave me be.” he takes another few deep, wheezing breaths, “I admit it: your wife and I have had an attachment. Now please-”

"You fucked her?"

"I did. Is that enough for you, sir?"

Five cuts him off with another heavy press of his shoe onto his throat.

The closed carriage ride with the burly manservant who sprung you from jail was deadly quiet. You didn’t know where you were going- all the blinds were drawn on the windows and you hadn’t felt permitted to open them. Your questions were met only with grunted half-responses that gave you no information. All you know is what he told you in the jail: Sir Reginald Hargreeves has secured your release.

When you stepped out and found yourself at a darkened Le Roy Place, the man had grabbed your upper arm, pulled you alongside him and through the door opened from within.

Now you sit in the well-appointed drawing room, again face to face with Reginald Hargreeves.

“I hope your time in jail wasn’t too distressing. Did the police treat you well?”

“It was fine.” you say, quietly, “How did you get me out?”

He waves a vague hand, “I am a man of many ways, means and connections. A well-placed bribe can get one almost anywhere- in this time and in any other.”

“Well…thank you, I guess,” you murmur.

He disregards this, instead getting down to business.

“I hope this may encourage you to think more favorably about my proposition?” he asks, raising an inquiring eyebrow. His similarities to Five are spooky: apparently this is a mannerism Five picked up from him.

“Sir Reginald,” you sigh, “I…I can’t risk it. Believe me, I want to: I really do, but I can’t risk it. There’s more to this than you realize.”

“Then tell me, what do you intend to do? You have a charge of thievery hanging over your head.”

You rest your forehead in one hand, rubbing above your eyes. Can you tell him the nature of what you know without the specifics? That you’re connected to someone who will be important in his future and telling him more could damage the timeline…but is even that too much? You know so little about this stuff.

What you do know is Reginald would likely have no problem erasing your life as you knew it as long as his precious plans were unharmed. What if he gets you home only to discover that Aoife was never born? What if you and Five never met?

When you don’t reply, he leans forward, supporting himself on an unnecessary jewel-topped walking cane.

“Allow me to be clear,” he says, “I hope you will agree to stay as my guest and I have an apartment prepared as such.” he gestures vaguely at the ceiling and the rooms above in a strange ‘mi casa su casa’ sort of way. When he continues, however, he sounds less welcoming than the movement would suggest.

“I would like you to aid me willingly…but you can consider yourself released into my custody. Be warned that I do not consider your willingness a necessity. You will tell me everything, be it today over a glass of cognac or in a week in far less friendly circumstances.”

You look back up at him. Now he’s holding a decanter in one hand and a glass in the other, eyebrow again arched.

“Which will it be, Mrs Hargreeves?”

You purse your lips. Again, his expression reminds you of his adopted son. If he’s like Five in some ways, perhaps he is in others? Back when you first met him, the best way to get your way with him was to take no nonsense and hold him to his own words. As with Five, it feels important that your relationship with this man begins with a free and frank exchange of terms. You sit up straighter, deciding once and for all on your course of action.

“Pour me a drink.”

Reginald nods approvingly and obliges, filling the glass generously. You take it from him silently and drink a healthy sip. He watches you expectantly, clearly waiting for you to begin. You don’t give him the satisfaction of talking, crossing one leg over the other and sitting back in your chair. On your side at least, it quickly becomes a battle of wills. You aren’t going to speak until he does. Forcing him to break the silence suddenly feels paramount.

At last he does and you feel dizzying triumph as if you’ve already won the day.

“Well?”

“Well,” you say, taking another sip, “last night you told me I’d have three days to decide. I don’t see why you intend to go back on that deal.”

“Hm,” he says, surprised and annoyed. “You must admit that the situation has changed since last night. You now rely upon my protection and it would be fair to say that you owe me.”

You tilt your head from side to side, seeming to weigh his words.

“Maybe. But I thought you wanted to be - what was the word?- friendly about this?”

He exhales in irritation.

“You seem very comfortable goading me. I take it that you and I have history…or will at least develop one?”

You ignore him.

“Listen: I got up at five AM today and I’ve been in a disgusting holding cell for most of that. I’m tired. So how about this: top up my drink, show me up to my room and let me get a good night’s sleep first? Then, in the morning, I’m all yours.”

He considers, doubt crossing his already clouded face.

“When we were dancing,” he says, “I got the distinct impression you disliked me. Now I can safely say that the feeling is mutual.”

You shrug with complete unconcern and hold out your glass.

He arrives in a fizzle of static. Once he’s taken stock of his surroundings and ensured he truly is alone, he moves swiftly, footsteps echoing through the dark, windowed passage. He can hear murmuring women from up ahead. Behind bars, there are shifting silhouettes, whispers and slow, deep breathing. One of them is singing quietly and tunelessly.

“No place like home….”

Unable to see faces, he whispers your name into the dark and gets no response. He tries again and still receives no answer. The sleeping women are starting to stir now, he can see their shapes trying to discern his features and failing as he has with theirs.

He speaks your name again, louder now.

“She’s gone,” comes a vaguely familiar voice. Its owner, a figure just as much in shadow as the others, steps forwards, “she was taken perhaps two hours since. By a big manservant-type.”

She finally steps into a shaft of moonlight: enough for each to make out the other’s features.

“Hello sir,” she says, laughingly “what a coincidence that you and I should have an acquaintance in common.”

Five smiles in spite of everything.

“Where did he take her Selina?”

“Said he worked for Reginald Hargreeves.”

“Shit.” he said, softly.

“If I knew gents could break women out of jail I might have tried a bit harder with you last night.”

He smiles again, extending his hand through the bars and taking hers. It always takes more effort to blink with more than one person, especially over longer distances, but he manages it without too much trouble, extracting them both from the portal without too big a jolt and letting go of her hand in the street beside the police station.

She takes one moment to look around herself, disbelievingly before shrieking and stumbling away from him as though he’s just pulled a knife on her.

“Hey, calm down. Be quiet, you idiot. We’re still right beside the station! Wait.”

She stops several feet away, still gaping at him and poised as if to run.

“Can you tell me anything else about her? It’s my wife: I need to find her.” as he says this, he rummages in his coat pocket.

“I…she just said she was in for stealing.” she says, sounding perplexed. He knew this from the Danforths and nodded encouragingly, “we talked a bit. I mentioned you actually, though only in passing.” she looks as if she’s searching for anything that might be relevant, “I…I don’t know what else to tell you. The man said Reginald Hargreeves wanted her and had secured her release.”

Five nods. His father’s name was all the information he needed, really. He rummages in his pocket and slaps the antique pocket-watch into her hand.

“Thank you. Take this: sell it. It’s 18 karat gold and the gems are high-grade sapphires. It’s worth around-” he quickly performs the inflation calculation, “- I’d say around fifteen hundred dollars.. It’s a serious chunk of change anyway. Put on your best clothes and sell it to a jeweler uptown- not that shitty pawnbroker. Invest in real-estate on Manhattan island. Get advice but I think leasing it to others will be your best chance. The city’s only going to grow.”

She looks nonplussed.

“Say it back to me.”

“What are you?”

He ignores her, annoyed now even as he tries to do this good thing. The chance of it badly damaging the timeline is minimal but he takes this as a calculated risk. He repeats himself.

“Sell this to a jeweler uptown. Don’t take less than thirteen hundred dollars and invest it in real estate on Manhattan Island.

“Yes…” she said, still shocked.

“Thank you. Don’t tell anyone where you got it- never mention me to anyone . And stay as far away from Reginald Hargreeves as you can.”

And then he reached out, patted her arm and blinked away, making her cringe away from another flash of blue static.

On to Chapter 10 >> Masterpost

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vacantgodling · 2 years

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A FOOL’S ERRAND

(oc kiss week day 4: CHARM)

wip: paramour ROLE SWAP AU (more info linked)—tl;dr amon is rich hya is a useless butler leggo

character(s): amon & hya (does not use his full name in this au)

warning(s): swearing, bickering, make outs, loose interpretations of the prompt lmao

after a riveting rendition of the famous “fools errand” play, the subject of the legitimacy of love potions comes up between master and butler. growing irritated with his master’s winding logic, hya decides to disprove amon’s theory. or prove it—depending on how you look at it.

A Fool’s Errand—one of the newer plays that was making its rounds on the theatre circuit, and one that Amon was finally convinced to witness in person after his good friend and confidant Myrtus insisted. It was an excuse to get out of the house to be something other than a loiterer at The Nimbus. His butler was none too pleased being dragged out of the house for something as “goddamn boring as a bunch of underdressed clowns playing pretend for three hours.” But A Fool’s Errand was different. Hya said hardly a word throughout the whole showing. Amon knew from the few other times he’d brought his grouchy eye candy along that bitching was a core tenant of his appreciation of art, so to hear not a peep until the final brava! well. Amon found it almost endearing.

“I still can’t wrap my head around it.” Amon prattled as they made their way through the sea of the exit crowd. “The idea of a potion to force someone to fall in love with you. How would it work, do you think?”

“Your ilk use it all the time.” Hya’s arms were firmly crossed over his broad chest, creating a barrier between himself and anyone who so much as brushed against him and Amon silently congratulated himself on his impeccable choice of outfit this evening. The deep brown lapels against Hya’s chocolate skin, accented with forest green and gold, made him a present fit for a king, and his butler knew as much. Amon knew that Hya knew that he was staring. But they’d long passed the point of feigning shyness. “How do you mean?” Amon asked.

“Put enough coins in front of someone and they’ll bark like a bitch when you command it.”

“I’ve waved quite a few dollars at you—“

“And I said someone.” Hya snapped. His mood was always foul when it was crowded, Amon knew. He quickly weaved them through the throngs of play seekers, until they’d reached the lighted streets of Central Town. It was then that Amon saw Hya’s shoulders start to relax. He grew more confident, and placed a hand on the small of Hya’s back. The butler didn’t flinch.

“Sure.” Amon agreed easily, returning to their conversation. “But money is a conscious choice, no? The idea of a charm or a potion that could override consent or incentive to get the results you want is… fascinating.”

“Because you’re disgusting.” Even with heat, Amon knew there was little malice. Hya still wasn’t really meeting his eyes, and he always did whenever he wanted something to sting. That, and his tone was off handed. Like a passing thought in a winding stream. If he imagined Hya stepping closer to him, it was a lie he’d let himself believe. “Do you think something like that would be possible?” Amon asked, ignoring him. Hya’s gaze flit to his, carefully neutral.

“Hilarious that you’re still entertaining the thought.”

Amon rolled his eyes. “Can’t you humor me, for once in your life?”

Hya didn’t answer. He simply looked back ahead of them. “We drinking?” He asked instead. Amon looked up to the ever looming orange glow of The Nimbus’s hailing sign. He must’ve steered them here without thinking.

“Ah.” Amon cleared his throat. It couldn’t hurt, he decided. “Why not?”

“You can hardly hold your liquor.” A rare smirk slid onto Hya’s face, but it was gone faster than Amon could admire it. He’d never understand how his brain let him tangle feelings with someone of such bad temper but he regrettably knew—some part of him, that deranged, ignorant part of him—liked that about Hya.

“You’re no better.” Amon’s protest fell on deaf ears and the two of them made their way inside.

As usual they sat near the back where they wouldn’t be disturbed, a private table Amon had a monopoly on for years. The first two or three drinks passed uneventfully. He talked, more about the play, the decor, other things, and Hya answered when it was pertinent. Still, even that was an improvement—vastly more open than the Hya who merely glared and grunted at him only a few months before. Amon knew the feeling swelling in his gut was dangerous—with only his heartbreak as real consequence yet like the cocktail that swirled in his glass, or the one that traveled boldly down Hya’s throat, he was helpless to its affects. It made him tip his head back to chase the bitter feeling with another bitter dram. Its welcome sting made him sigh with a hiss.

“Are you still thinking about it?”

“What?” Amon asked.

“The charm?”

“Oh.” Amon was somewhat surprised Hya was continuing to entertain him. He searched his thoughts, which were beginning to become muddled. “Of course. I was wondering what other affects such a potion could have on the body.” A bit of a lie but—Hya’s raised eyebrow emboldened him. “Would it be like an aphrodisiac?”

“What would be the point if it wasn’t?” Hya’s voice had gone low and smokey, as it did whenever they drank. A pleasant shiver raced down Amon’s spine. Hya leaned forward towards him, resting his elbows on the table. “There’s already a drink like that anyway. Overrides your consent. Makes bad decisions feel like good ones.” When Amon continued to stare at him blankly. Hya sighed heavily through his nose. “Alcohol. Dumbass. I’m talking about alcohol.”

“I was always under the impression that alcohol made you more honest. Unless there are certain…” Amon tilted his head, searching for a word. “Additives.” Hya hummed, thinking on it for a moment. When their eyes met again, Hya’s dark eyes were burning holes into him and Amon couldn’t deny how his heart leapt bodily into his chest.

“Removing your usual inhibitions is like being under a spell to me.” And Hya reached across the worlds of a table between them, grasping Amon by his tie. He dragged him forward, all strength and no balk, until Amon felt hot breath skating like ice shards across his lips. “Would you say that’s the spell you’re under?” He whispered. Hya answered him with a bite to his lower lip and a commanding sweep of tongue that made Amon’s knees nearly buckle. He righted himself and surged back, fisting rough hands into Hya’s suit and dragging him too, till they were both hanging off the table, having some ravenous conversation in the privacy of their tucked away table. When Hya pushed him back Amon’s head was spinning.

“You never answered.” Amon pointed out. Hya’s breathing was ragged, and Amon was magnetized to the way he scraped his tongue over his lips—as though he were trying to chase some flavor he may have left there.

“You figure it out.” Hya said, all gravel. He stood fully from the table, heading back towards the doors and disappeared into the rowdy crowd like stepping into his own shadow. A waitress hobbled by.

“Put one more on my tab!” He called. He needed a drink after that. She regarded him with a nod. Then, “What happened to your friend?”

“Oh he’s probably off sulking somewhere. I’ll cover his too.”

“Charmed.” She said, then ambled off.

Charmed indeed.

#s: paramour #ren writing #ockiss23 #oc kiss week #ockissweek #i was gonna do more for this but i started a new job so this is what i got #role swap au

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monvante · 1 year

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tag game: post 3 snippets from published work, and 3 from your wips.

i was tagged by the lovely @theharrowing! since i haven't published any of my works yet, i'm going to share snippets from three of my wips. feel free to ask me about them. i'm going to tag: @axialitae @ugh-yoongi @caelesjjk @wintaerbaer @archivedkookie @ressjeon and anyone else who would like to participate.

lust academia╱ knj x f!reader

Namjoon’s standing by the door, scrolling through his phone, brows furrowed and completely focused on the task at hand.

“I ordered pizza. You can stay for dinner,” he says, so casually you’d barely notice his invitation if it wasn’t for the fact you’re just so hungry. “If you want.”

“Thanks, but.. I was gonna cook myself some dinner-”

He raises his eyebrows, deadpanning at you.

“Didn’t you say your tap water was… I believe the word you used was.. shit?”

He never curses - which earns a heartfelt laugh from you when you hear him say it, with his chest so full.

“Yeah,” your nose wrinkles. “I just don’t wanna take up more of your time, so..”

You shrug, hands in pockets, feeling a little too small. You don’t like the feeling - like maybe he’s taken mercy upon you and now all you can do is desperately return the favor.

“Don’t sweat it. You can pay me back some other time.”

He walks out of the room, just as quickly as he entered.

You’re kind of at a loss for words. You didn’t take Namjoon for a bad guy, that’s not the thing, but- you also didn’t take him as someone cool and kind. Looking at it now, it makes sense why he intimidates you sometimes: he’s so at peace with himself, in a way you couldn’t ever be.

petite mort ╱ kth x f!reader.

For the most part, Taehyung stayed away from the court and its state of affairs. He didn’t like meddling in human politics and presumed His Majesty would call upon him if needed — no services were off limits.

Except for one small thing, of course. He harmed no children and no women either. Most certainly no one above eighty years old as well — the latter being a preference of his own, given elderly people tasted bitter and rancid, being of no use for a picky vampire such as his own.

It came as a rare, but pleasant surprise when your father had requested his presence at the palace. You had heard of something such as vampires roaming around, though had never truly met one. More often than not, they remained both a myth and a fascination among low income villages outside the kingdom. A few knights had whispered of beings lurking in the shadows, but you deemed yourself far too smart to believe these rumors.

Of course, when Kim Taehyung entered the doors of your sacred home, you were bewildered to learn he was real, and even more bewildered to know your family had kept his existence a secret all along. There was no sign of a single wrinkle in his face, but he possessed a certain wisdom only an ancient person would.

He would stay for a few weeks in one of the private chambers reserved for the King’s most special guests — which didn’t go beyond some of his favorite cousins and friends. So when the days passed and you’d see the shadows of Taehyung to and fro the palace’s parlors and hallways, you casually glanced his way in curiosity.

The vampire was forbidden territory, you were no fool. Not even your father had to mention it beforehand. It was simply the way he exchanged a few glances with you that gave it away. He seemed curious too, but unlike you, it was a dark kind of curiosity which could lead to many regrettable moments.

The temptation would last for weeks, each time just a little bit stronger than the previous day.

fortress of the heart ╱ ksj x f!reader.

You never wanted this. Not a throne, not a crown, not an ounce of your father’s power.

But as the single heir to a mad man, you were crowned Queen, with little to no say in a ruthless game of politics and heirs the second after your father welcomed death with open arms.

They said he was a mad King. One who trotted into battle twelve years ago and died on the battlefield ─ in a war which he had crafted with his silver tongue, a cursed touch and an unstoppable temper. Crumbling alongside his men wasn’t as redeeming a quality as he made it out to be, and so you were left with a kingdom in ruins ─ and a rising war ─ when the crown fell upon your head at the age of eighteen.

There was no glory, no death, no poetry that could redeem the acts of mercilessness of your father.

Each year seemed more threatening than the previous one, as rebellions struck the capital and the conditions worsened for your people. There hadn’t been many options left, you feared. One of your ladies in waiting had cowardly suggested you give your throne to your cousin Tyon, Duke of Illyria, but you refused to stand in the shadows of another man yet again.

A noble turned king would grant nothing, aside from all the women eventually succumbing at his feet ─ which you suspected was the least awful of his intentions. Still, rumors around the palace had always created a vile kind of competition between you and the rest of your cousins, who resented you for inheriting something you never aspired to in the first place.

But power was a vicious thing, wasn’t it?

#tag games.

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alyjojo · 1 year

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September 🐿️ 2023 Monthly - Scorpio

Whole of your energy: 8 Pentacles

You’ve put a lot of time and effort into something that’s not working out how you’d planned, probably due to outside influences or people you’ve been working with. You were getting ready to take a leap into a new beginning, some new idea or thing, and others could be working against you or have the final decision on something. You’re fighting for this though, it’s something you believe in, and you’re not keen on wasting your time.

What’s going on in September:

3 Pentacles:

It’s possible this is regarding love, for some this is a lover you’ve had plans that you’ve both worked towards and they’re letting you down somehow. For others this could be someone you’re partnered with at work, normally they come through but could also be letting you down. Showing up as Queen of Wands, it could be a fire sign, or someone acting in their own self interest. Normally the relationship between you is equally exchanged & well suited. There are two “3” energies, it could be something outside of you two that cause this disappointment, sadness, regret, etc.

The Hanged Man:

Followed by Death, something has been dragged out for some time now before it’s finally been decided on to end for good, and you’re ticked off about it. Ace of Wands can be an idea, inspiration, motivation towards something. Or anger. You could have been waiting on approval, funding, a chance to prove your case or really sell this idea to others and it’s just not happening, it’s being shut down. I get for many of you this is work related. In the case it’s love, this Queen could have a passionate new beginning somewhere else, after making you feel like you two had something…or you hoped for that. That could also be switched. This is a reoccurring theme already this month. 3rd energies messing up solid or stable relationships…or rather, people deciding to involve/invite them in.

3 Swords:

There isn’t deeper context to this, showing it’s several different stories, but this was an ambition of yours that you have to leave behind regrettably. You don’t want to. You don’t have a choice, either a person is on some bs with other people, or higher ups in your company are rejecting an idea or project you’re working on. Some of you are literally moving away from whatever this is, maybe even quitting your job (I don’t advise this ofc but do you), moving away from this person to some other place where no one knows your name. This person may be a good friend at work, that simply has to move or leave due to their own ambitions, and there’s nothing you can do about that, but you’re sad.

9 Wands rev:

This is an energy of having been through battle after battle after battle, putting in so much of your effort, time and energy, something doesn’t work out and you just throw in the towel. Fuck it, you’re done. There could be something in particular that’s been said that you hold on to, like a grudge, and it pisses you off repeatedly. Or someone’s actions, 4 Pentacles shows you’re not likely to just forgive and forget, if you’ve been hurt by this, or someone feels that way towards you. Holding grudges. You feel burned by this situation, how dare they not even give you a chance. Or again, could be them with you.

The Fool:

Because you’re giving up on this altogether, there’s a new beginning for you to embark on. Some may feel it’s unfair, you could feel it’s unfair if someone else is starting over and leaving you/your idea behind. Some of you are doing this in the first place because something wasn’t being fair to you, there’s no balance or Justice when this card is reversed, everything is out of whack. You feel there’s no other choice but to move on to calmer waters, where this chaos and these vengeful feelings & grudges don’t exist…trying to run away from your problems, maybe. Probably. Will it work though? Maybe. Probably 💯

I asked “what is on the other side of this 6 Swords?” - 2 Pentacles & 5 Swords. Keeping busy, trying to keep your mind off this situation, but still feeling bitter, vengeful, and wanting to prove a point. Whether to a person, an old job, God, whoever, you’re kinda bitter, still pissed off, still holding grudges. But that’s okay sometimes, just don’t let yourself stay in that mindset forever. Things will get better. You have Growth here twice, plus Grass saying the same thing, that’s a very good sign 🪷 It’s not comfortable, it’s an adjustment period, but these are the kind of times when we get the most spiritual/inner work done, unexpectedly.

You have 11:11 with this unfair situation and growth, trust that you can manifest your desires into reality after this cycle is experienced and whatever lessons are learned. I’m getting you’ve outgrown this pot anyway, and now you’re onto new things, a bigger pot, has more room to grow, just be sure to create a vision in your mind of what you *do* want, now that you know for sure what you don’t.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Capricorn, Scorpio, Pisces, Cancer, Aries, Libra & Sagittarius

Oracles: ✨

19 - Growth

Feel open, willing, and proud of your desire to explore new opportunities for self-development.

69 - Precision

The desire to do things precisely is useful as long as it does not devolve into rigidity.

38 Growth 🪴

This situation or time is one of rapid growth. The seeds that have been planted have germinated and taken root. Go with the flow of this growing time. You may find people and situations falling away from your life, as now they do not serve who and what you are becoming. It may be that your vibration no longer resonates with theirs. It’s okay, wish them well, be grateful for what they brought to you and you to them, and send them on their way. Room has now been made for new experiences, people, and situations to help you to your next level. If you are not feeling this shift right now, be prepared because it will soon come to pass.

We enter into September as:

Grass 🌱:

“Your message to others is best expressed by being uniquely you.”

The time is right for you to move on from anything holding you back from full self-expression. You are being told to break away. Be different. Be unique. It is time to grow! It could be time to plan a change of scenery. Take a tour, go to a spa, get into shape, visit a foreign place, learn a new skill, depart from the mundane. Take the chance you’ve always wanted to. Most importantly, grow. This is an indication you also need to become more in touch with your spiritual side. You’ve strayed from your inner voice, Spirit invites you back. It is time for your personal growth.

What is to be learned in September:

Bernie Banana and All Things Yellow 🍌

“How can I choose?”

Have you recently faced a major truth about yourself and are trying to figure out where you do belong? Or are you facing some other kind of dilemma? Is your thinking cloudy because you think someone or something is cheating you out of your just desserts? Bernie has come to you to let you know you are not alone. You are being advised to approach your particular situation with an open eye and closed mouth. Do not say or reveal too much, your “knowledge” may prove to work against you, or you may be in the midst of a volatile situation. You are being told to play the neutral position, it will prove important later that you have not chosen any “sides”. Do not ignore your beliefs, simply do not publicize them, weigh your situation carefully. You’re in the winning position by being the observer. Answers will come by allowing a dilemma to exist, the situation is out of your hands. Something else requires your attention, leave well enough alone.

Yellow may be a lucky color 💛

#scorpio tarot reading #monthly #monthly reading #September 2023 #Scorpio #tarot #tarotblr

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papercherries · 6 months

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My Last Partner.

I can't stop thinking about my last partner. We "broke up" months ago, but I can't stop thinking about them. It makes me quite upset but I don't know why? I understand that it's over and I am over it, but they still haunt my mind. A spectre of a love that could have been. Maybe it was because it was the first time I'd been broken up with, all my previous partners I'd done the breaking. Maybe it was because of how brutally they broke up with me. I knew it wouldn't work out from the beginning. Sometimes you can just feel it in your soul, a tokyo story styled looming feeling of death. I told myself, over and over. Don't trust this, don't fall in and then I'd immediately continue to smile with glee. If I were a blind fool I'd feel less bad about it, but I was fully aware it was coming. Especially the second time. They had "broke up" with me once before, they weren't "feeling it". They proclaimed that "I think I want to be with you but I'm not sure" or something along those lines. I understood the feeling, they weren't describing the feeling of apathy, just a general feeling that their feelings weren't pointing toward where we were headed.

So we "broke up". They always had the dignity to do it in person, I have not always been so brave. But I left and went home, I was upset for a while, drank myself into a pit but it was nothing I hadn't done before. I had started to move on. They then made a mistake, a very drunken one. They had called me whilst they were on a night out (ironically how this all started, but that's a happier story for another day). If I remember correctly, it was so they could be on the phone whilst they walked home. I had no ill feelings toward them so I obliged. We then ended up talking for the next couple hours, sweet nothings. Just stuff I think they wanted to hear and they wanted to tell me, about how much they liked me and how much they missed me. It was clawing at the parts where my heart used to be (that must be the most emo thing I've ever put to page). I told them the same, as it were true. They asked me to stay on the phone with them as they fell asleep. They apologised in the morning and reiterated what they had stated during the "break up". I went on moving on. However I wasn't allowed.

They kept calling and eventually, I would call them on my drunken nights. It created this awful cycle where we could only speak with one another whilst out of our minds. Regrettably, one night, I told them I loved them. I think I did but telling them that must've been torture. They then would ask me if I remembered what I had said, though they didn't specify what night and they wouldn't tell me what I had said. I didn't think too much of what I had said that night and so I half forgot about it. So I had to tell them I didn't remember. Eventually, we started talking again like normal human beings. We arranged a day trip to a theme park.

As a side note, I like theme parks but hate carnivals and fairs. The latter just have attractions that reduce me to nausea and I already have enough of that as is. Plus, lots of people in my home town were beaten, drugged, mugged and a few died at our yearly fair (though most of those deaths were overdoses).

So we had our day at the theme park, we waited for hours in long queues for rides that lasted less than 2 minutes. It was a strangely hot day and I had worn clothes for colder weather. It also rare that theme park queues have shelter. We had been there for hours, nothing of total note had happened. In any sense, we talked about random nothings and we got on rides. Quite late into the day, they held my hand. For context, I knew what this day was before it started. It was like taking your dog for a final joyride. I knew I'd be put down before the day was through, but in that moment. All of that washed away, my stomach was ablaze. I tried to put it out best I could but it was too late, I was already totally ingulfed in flames.

We went on a few more rides, I remember they had a real love for theme parks, or maybe this theme park in particular. They were really enjoying themselves here. There was one ride they wanted me to go on, it was the one type of ride I cannot stand. I don't mind swinging, I don't mind a roller-coaster and I don't mind haunted tunnels. In truth, I had no apathy toward this ride, but something kicked in. A childhood reminder that I was in fact , scared of heights. I haven't conquered this fear but I had learned to control it. I used to be terrified of diving and now I have done it from heights I couldn't have dreamed of. But something about this ride set me off. I refused, perhaps too quickly as it was an immediate and stern no. Their eyes were now filled with motivation and intrigue, they had immediately sensed my fear of this ride. They pulled my hand toward the ride but I continued to refuse till they gave up. I wonder if things would've been different if I had got on that ride. Probably not and there's no point wondering about the past.

We then left the theme park and headed back to the train station. All feelings of doubt I had were gone for this short period, however I could feel them growing. They would continue to do things to offset the feeling, at one point they kissed me. It was awful, I have never felt so much sadness in a kiss. We got to the first train station, as we had to get a train to get another train. They started tearing up, they then reiterated the "break up". Like a repeating motif, I could feel it's presence with a kiss. They kept asking, if I could remember what I had said, I repeated my answer till they told me. At this moment I went "Ohhhhh yeah, I remember that". They were quite surprised and I had to explain that I thought they meant something else this whole time. It was slightly humorous but the air was finally bombarded by the fact they said they think they love me too.

Why. Would. Anyone. Say. This. There are two occasions you shouldn't tell someone you truly love them. When you first meet someone and when you're about to break up with someone. The former being forgivable, just a bit forward. The latter being that you may still love the person you're breaking up with but you need to say it in a way that says "I love you but I don't want to be in a relationship with you". It's awful still but it softens the blow and is often true. This however was not that, they had never told me they loved me before this moment. Perhaps, it was to try soften the blow of what was happening, or perhaps they meant it but I would have much rather never have know. At this point they were bawling their eyes out. I had not shed a tear, I was deeply sad don't get me wrong. As much as I knew the knife was coming, you can only resist a blade to a certain depth. But I couldn't shed a tear, this was quite common for me. I find It takes a lot for me to cry whilst comforting someone else. They even questioned this, I can't remember my reply. The tears I have shed for that day must be in the single digits, I haven't been able to cry since then. Something may have broke, it will fix itself in due time.

We got on the train, I continued this comforting, they kept kissing and hugging and squeezing my hand, oh so tight. I said something that had been on my mind all day, they knew I had something on my mind but, I wouldn't tell them. But as this was the last time I would probably see them, I thought why not. This may have been a mistake as it was probably quite painful for them to hear, though, I don't know if it affected them at all. I told them their eyes were the only ones I could stare into comfortably and that they were the only person I would be excited to get phone calls from. Whilst these statements seem rather small, in my world they are mountainous letters of love. I have great difficulty staring people in the eye and even more difficulty answering a phone call. I only call one person and that's my dad and I'm never particularly excited about talking on the phone. In extension, I hate receiving and sending voice messages/voice mail. I'll be having a normal conversation with a friend via text and they'll send a voice message. I then won't reply for days because I don't want to listen to a voice message. As you can tell, these were big things for me.

We got off at our parting train station, I walked them to their platform and we waited for their train. They kept kissing me and telling me sweet things, I have no forgotten. I remember trying to give them my favourite jumper I had brought especially for them if they got cold. They wanted to but they declined. I decided not to insist as they had done the same for me previously and it was a great mental weight to hold. They kept saying "other me isn't here right now so we can just be like this". It sounds a little crazy but I understood what they meant. They were referring to their split feelings on the subject. They know they shouldn't be doing what they were doing but they continued because at that moment they wanted to. I felt the same. Their train arrived, we texted each other for maybe an hour afterwards until it was over for good.

I'm not sure if that day was real or if it was all just padding. The gourmet meal for the dying man, the last day for the diseased dog. Part of me hopes it was all padding, it would make it a lot easier to discard it as meaningless nothing. But maybe it was just a good final day, a last hurrah, a celebration of the dead instead of a funeral (I always do prefer the former). In truth, I'd rather not know. I'd rather leave as is, but they linger on my mind.

Since then, we have been in contact with each other twice. The first time was to let me know their dog had died. They loved the dog incredibly and I was quite fond of her myself. The second was a last ditch drunken attempt of me trying to talk to them in the form of asking for their etsy so I could buy a bookmark. They had gifted me one and I had nearly lost it. It planted this awful seed in my head, that sprouted into an awful plan. I asked, they replied, I admitted to what I had done and apologised. They sent their etsy, I ordered a book mark. I still prefer to use the one gifted to me, but the other is a great secondary for when I'm reading two books at once. Though it is made out of cut out paper from books. My mind wanders when I stare at it, is there a message for me here? I try not to think about it because if there is, I shouldn't pursue it and if there isn't then I would feel quite sad about it.

If they were to contact me again, whether that be a drunken dial or a heartfelt letter. I would probably respond. If they were to try to advance toward me, I would try my hardest to deny those advances. I'd try reply with anger, sadness and grief. I would try make them understand the pain I went through. Though, I probably would never do this. Because no matter how hard I'd try. I will always end up back at the beginning.

#spilled thoughts

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