#if you saw me post this twice it's because the first time it disappeared...

[jkwrites-m]

Daddy Kookie (2)

Pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: childhood lovers to exes to lovers, parents au, idol au, smut, angst, fluff

Word Count: 6.4k

Summary: After Jungkook dropped all contact, Y/N was left broken - and pregnant. Seven years later, fate brings them back together.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, smut, angst, abandonment, young (teenage) pregnancy, unintentional parental neglect, resentment, fighting, boundaries, guilt, burnout, anxiety, confessions, reunions, slapping, anger, heartbreak, cursing, struggle, explicit: PRAISING, kissing, missionary, tension, pillow talk, unprotected sex

A/N: here’s what was originally the ending of part one but for some reason i can’t post that many blocks 😒 so here’s the “part 2”.

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═══════

I found Namjoon in the hotel gym that night.

He was alone, earbuds in, pacing the far side of the room with a water bottle tucked under one arm, muttering rehearsal notes to himself like he always did before a show. I stood in the doorway for a solid minute before I said anything.

He saw me in the mirror first.

Pulled out one earbud.

“You alright?” he asked.

“No.”

He nodded once and didn’t press me.

Just set down his bottle and motioned toward the bench press like, sit.

I sat.

And for a while, neither of us said a word.

“I met with her this morning,” I said finally, my voice rough from not speaking since the show.

Namjoon didn’t ask who.

He just waited.

“I asked for an hour. She gave me exactly that.”

I rubbed my hands together. My legs were bouncing, and I couldn’t stop.

“I thought I was ready to see her. But I wasn’t.”

Still, Namjoon said nothing.

“She has a daughter.”

His brows lifted just slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“She’s mine,” I added. “Her name is Eun Ae.”

That got him.

Namjoon blinked slowly and sat down on the bench across from me. “You’re a dad?”

I nodded. “I didn’t know. I- God, hyung, I blocked her. She tried to tell me and I just… I disappeared.”

He sighed but didn’t scold me.

I think that made it worse.

“She raised her alone,” I said. “Worked. Went to school. Everything. No help. And I was here, living my dream while she was raising my kid and barely surviving.”

“You didn’t know,” Namjoon said carefully.

“I should’ve.”

“That’s true.”

I buried my face in my hands. “She’s giving me one chance. Tomorrow. At the zoo. I get to meet her - meet my daughter - for the first time and I don’t even know how to breathe around the thought of it.”

He let me sit in the silence for a beat.

Then: “What are you most scared of?”

“That she’ll hate me.”

Namjoon’s gaze softened.

“That she’ll ask me where I’ve been,” I whispered, “and I won’t know how to answer.”

“You don’t have to have all the answers,” he said. “You just have to show up. That’s what matters now.”

“I want to be in her life,” I said. “I want to earn it. I want to be someone she can count on. Not someone she has to recover from.”

Namjoon nodded slowly. “That’s a good place to start.”

“And Y/N…” My voice cracked. “I still love her.”

“I know.”

“I don’t expect her to forgive me. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I want her to see that I’m not the same kid who left.”

“You’re not,” he said.

I looked up at him. “What if I ruin it again?”

“Then you don’t,” Namjoon said. “You show up. You listen. You apologize. You be present. And if they don’t let you in, you keep showing up until they do- or until they tell you to stop. Either way, you stay honest.”

I nodded, swallowing hard.

“Thanks, hyung.”

He gave a tired smile. “Get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

I didn’t sleep much.

But I dreamed of a little girl with my eyes.

And Y/N beside her.

═══════

It was her idea to wear her tiger hoodie.

“Because we’re going to the zoo,” she said, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

I tied her shoelaces twice- her feet wouldn’t stop bouncing- then stood up and stared at her for a moment too long.

“Mama?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you nervous?”

A pause.

“No,” I said. “I’m just thinking.”

It wasn’t a lie. I was thinking. About everything.

About how I swore he’d never meet her. About how easily I’d broken that rule yesterday. About how I’d watched his hands tremble when I said the word daughter.

He didn’t cry, not fully.

But he looked like someone who had finally understood what it meant to break something that couldn’t be fixed.

I kept that image close as I buckled her into her booster seat and drove to the zoo.

He was already waiting by the entrance.

Sunglasses. Mask. Hoodie. Head tucked down.

It should’ve made him look anonymous.

It didn’t.

Even behind all that, he looked unmistakably like him.

And when Eun Ae saw him, she didn’t pause.

She ran.

Full-speed. Straight up to him like she’d known him her whole life.

“Hi!” she chirped. “I’m Eun Ae. Are you the friend Mama said we’re meeting?”

He knelt down slowly.

I watched his fingers shake as he pulled the mask down from his face.

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m… I’m Jungkook.”

“That’s a funny name,” she giggled. “Can I call you Mr. Kookie?”

He let out a short, stunned laugh.

“Sure,” he said, clearing his throat. “You can call me that.”

She grabbed his hand like it was nothing. Like it was normal.

Like this hadn’t been six years coming.

I followed a few steps behind them, unsure what to do with my arms, my heart, my breath.

They moved together easily.

Too easily.

He matched her pace. Let her pick which exhibits to visit. Lifted her onto his shoulders to see the giraffes. Bought her a pretzel and wiped the cheese off her face without hesitation. They laughed at the same things. Tilted their heads the same way when they were curious. Chewed the straw of their drinks when they were thinking.

They were mirrors.

And I was the frame- holding it all together, barely.

At the tiger enclosure, Eun Ae pressed her palms to the glass and gasped.

“They’re so cool!” she shouted. “I want one!”

“They’re a little big for a pet,” Jungkook said, crouching next to her.

“I’d teach it tricks.”

“I bet you would.”

There was a pause. Then she asked the question I’d been dreading.

“Did you know my mom when she was my age?”

Jungkook blinked.

I tensed.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I did.”

“Was she weird like me?”

“She was perfect,” he said. “Exactly like you.”

She grinned. “So… super weird?”

He laughed, and I heard something in it that sounded like mourning.

Later, while she climbed a small jungle gym near the café, I sat beside him on the bench.

He didn’t speak at first.

Just watched her, eyes full of things I didn’t want to name.

“She’s incredible,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“You already said that.”

“I’ll say it again,” he said. “As many times as you need.”

We sat in silence for a long time.

Then I heard my voice say something I hadn’t planned.

“You’re good with her.”

He turned to me, surprised.

“She doesn’t know who you are,” I added. “But she likes you.”

“I’m glad.”

“She’s never had… that. A male figure. Anyone to play like that with.”

He looked away. “That’s my fault.”

I didn’t correct him.

He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled something out.

A little stuffed tiger.

“I bought this on the way here,” he said, holding it up. “I didn’t know if I’d get to give it to her.”

She ran back to us just then, sweaty and smiling.

Jungkook knelt again and held out the tiger.

“For you.”

Her eyes lit up.

“Thanks, Mr. Kookie!”

She hugged him. No hesitation.

He closed his eyes like the moment hurt in a way he needed.

═══════

That night, after Eun Ae was tucked into bed, I sat on the couch with a blanket around my shoulders and my phone pressed to my ear.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

Like the kind of quiet that presses in on your skin and makes your thoughts louder than they should be.

“She hugged him,” I whispered.

My best friend on the other end of the line didn’t speak. She waited. She always did.

“She hugged him like she’d known him her whole life. Like he hadn’t missed anything. Like he hadn’t disappeared.”

I wiped under my eyes with the edge of my sleeve.

“And he was… good with her. Gentle. Patient. Funny. Like he’d been waiting his whole life to meet her. Like he already loved her.”

“You sound surprised,” my friend said.

“I am,” I confessed. “I don’t want to be. But I am.”

There was a pause.

“You still love him,” she said.

I closed my eyes.

“Don’t,” I said softly. “Please.”

“Y/N-”

“I can’t afford to love him,” I whispered. “Not again. Not after what he did.”

The words came out raw and wet and cracked.

“I spent years hating him,” I said. “Years trying to forget the way he looked at me, the way he kissed me, the way he made me believe in things that never came true. And today, I watched him hold our daughter’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and I…This could’ve been real. This life. This moment. All of it. If he had just… stayed.”

I swallowed the sob that threatened.

“I didn’t feel anger. I didn’t feel hate. I felt… sad. And full. And furious. And terrified. All at once.”

“You’re allowed to feel all of that.”

“I know. But it doesn’t make it easier.”

She didn’t say anything for a while.

Then: “Do you think he still loves you?”

I laughed. Quiet and bitter. “He says he does.”

“And do you believe him?”

I looked out the window. The city lights blinked back like stars caught in a snow globe.

“I believe he thinks he does,” I said. “But I don’t know if he loves me- who I am now. Not the girl he left behind.”

“You don’t have to decide anything now.”

“I don’t want to decide anything,” I said. “I just want to breathe again.”

I hung up after that.

Tucked my phone under the blanket and rested my head on the arm of the couch. My eyes closed. My chest ached. I felt heavy and hollow and full of fire all at the same time.

And then I heard it.

A shuffle.

A creak of the hallway floorboard.

I turned.

Jungkook stood there, just outside the door frame, his hand against the wall like he needed it to hold himself up.

He hadn’t knocked.

He hadn’t said a word.

He just looked at me like he’d walked straight into the center of a storm he hadn’t seen coming.

“You heard all that,” I said, my voice flat.

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said quietly. “I was bringing back the little drawing she made. She left it in my jacket pocket. I was going to knock. I just… heard you.”

I sat up slowly.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

He didn’t budge.

“Y/N,” he said softly, voice shaking. “I love you. Not just the girl I left. Not some idea. You. Right now. All of it.”

And then he crossed the room.

Without another word, he bent down and kissed me.

Soft and sure and shaking all at once.

And for one second - just one - I kissed him back.

It was like breathing again for the first time in years. Like lightning. Like a heartbeat I didn’t know I missed.

But then I pulled back.

And I slapped him.

Hard.

He didn’t even flinch.

“You can’t just do that,” I said, my voice rising. “You don’t get to walk in here, say I love you, and kiss me like it erases what you did.”

“I know,” he said, eyes shining. “I know it doesn’t fix anything. I just needed you to know it’s real.”

A long silence stretched between us.

He finally set the folded piece of paper on the table.

It was a crayon drawing. Stick figures. A tiger. The word “KOOKIE” spelled backwards across the top.

“I’ll go,” he said, stepping back. “But… thank you. For today.”

He turned and walked out before I could say a word.

And I sat there, hands shaking, heart a mess, trying not to chase after him.

Because no matter how much I wanted to…

I didn’t know if I could survive loving him again.

═══════

I didn’t mean to kiss her.

I meant to leave.

I meant to say those words and walk away like a man who’d learned his lesson. Who knew better now.

But when I looked at her- sitting on that couch, eyes full of grief and strength- I forgot what I was supposed to do.

And when her lips touched mine back… for that brief, burning second, I thought maybe I wasn’t too late.

But then she slapped me.

And she was right to.

I walked out shortly after. The drawing Eun Ae made was still on the table. The door shut behind me like punctuation on a sentence I’d rewritten too many times in my head.

I didn’t go to my room.

I went to Namjoon’s.

He was still up, writing in a leather-bound notebook like always. When he opened the door and saw my face, he didn’t ask. Just moved aside to let me in.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands gripping the hem of my hoodie.

“She still hates me,” I said.

Namjoon didn’t reply. Just waited.

“I heard her talking to someone. On the phone. After the zoo.” I exhaled shakily. “She said it could’ve been real. The life. The moment. If I had just stayed.”

My voice cracked.

“She’s right,” I said. “It could’ve been. I destroyed everything.”

Namjoon sat in the chair across from me, elbows on his knees. “You didn’t destroy everything.”

“I kissed her,” I admitted.

That got a raised eyebrow.

“She kissed me back. For a second. Then she slapped me.”

Namjoon didn’t flinch. “You probably deserved it.”

“I definitely deserved it.”

I leaned forward, elbows on my thighs, head in my hands.

“She thinks I’m just showing up now because of Eun Ae. But it’s not that. I was going to try before I even knew. I swear. I just… I still love her. That never went away.”

“I know,” Namjoon said. “We all do.”

“She said she doesn’t know if I love who she is now. Not the girl I left behind.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” I said immediately. “She’s stronger. Sharper. She’s everything I wish I’d grown up fast enough to deserve.”

Namjoon nodded slowly.

“Then show her,” he said. “Not with words. You’ve said enough. Do something.”

“Like what?”

“Think,” he said. “What did she love? What mattered to her?”

I blinked.

“Wildflowers,” I said. “She always picked the ugly ones growing out of sidewalk cracks. Said they were survivors.”

Namjoon smiled. “Then that’s where you start.”

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat.

“I’m going to show up,” I said. “Every day. Until she tells me not to. Or until she believes me.”

“Good,” Namjoon said. “And Jungkook?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not a piece of shit. You were a scared kid who made a selfish mistake. Now you’re a man who has to own it.”

I nodded again.

I wasn’t running anymore.

Tomorrow, I’d bring her flowers.

Not roses.

Not something expensive or flashy.

Just wildflowers.

The ones that survive.

═══════

He didn’t text the next morning.

Didn’t call.

Didn’t knock.

But when I opened the door to take out the trash, there was a bouquet of wildflowers on the step.

No note.

No explanation.

Just color.

Simple and honest.

I stared at them for a long time before I brought them inside.

I didn’t put them in a vase.

Not yet.

Eun Ae noticed them instantly.

“Oooh, are those for you?”

“Yeah,” I said, almost under my breath.

“From Mr. Kookie?”

I froze.

She giggled. “He smells like sunshine.”

I blinked. “What?”

“His hoodie. It smelled like sunshine. And gum.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

She took one of the smaller stems from the bouquet and tucked it behind my ear before skipping off to play.

═══════

The next day, he didn’t bring flowers.

He brought her a book.

One of those thick picture books with a glittery cover and a dragon on the front. She shrieked like she’d won the lottery. He handed it to her without a word and let her read to him, even though she kept skipping pages and making up half the story.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t correct her.

He just smiled like it was the best thing he’d ever heard.

I watched from the kitchen, trying not to feel anything.

Trying to stay steady.

Trying not to remember the way his hand had felt on my cheek when he kissed me.

And the sting of my own palm after.

═══════

The third day, he showed up with both- flowers for me, a new stuffed animal (a bunny this time) for her, and takeout from my favorite noodle place.

He didn’t ask to stay.

Just handed it over, bowed, and walked away.

I didn’t stop him.

But I didn’t close the door right away either.

═══════

The fourth day, he didn’t come.

And I hated how I noticed.

How the absence felt like a missing rhythm in my day. A skipped beat.

I told myself it was good. Smart. Necessary.

That space was healthy.

But then he texted.

Jungkook: Didn’t want to crowd you today. Just… wanted you to know I’m here.

I didn’t reply.

But I stared at that message for a long time.

═══════

The fifth day, he came by again. This time he asked if we wanted to go for ice cream.

Eun Ae screamed like he’d asked her to Disneyland.

I tried to say no.

I did.

But my mouth betrayed me.

“Okay,” I said. “Just an hour.”

He didn’t smile like he won.

He smiled like it hurt to be that grateful.

We walked to the corner shop with her bouncing between us. He let her pick his flavor. She made him get bubblegum. He pretended to like it. I knew he didn’t.

He caught me watching him.

And didn’t look away.

That night, after she was in bed, I sat on the same couch, stared at the same wall, and whispered into the dark:

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

And I meant it.

I wasn’t ready.

Not yet.

But I also wasn’t closing the door anymore.

Not all the way.

═══════

I should’ve known it was too good to last.

The morning started perfect.

Too perfect.

Jungkook showed up with matching zoo t-shirts he found online. One for him, one for Eun Ae. Hers said “Mini Tiger.” His said “Big Tiger.”

She laughed for five straight minutes and made him wear it out in public.

I rolled my eyes and told him he was shameless.

He just grinned and handed me a coffee with two extra espresso shots- exactly the way I liked it.

“Trying to bribe me?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

I didn’t smile.

But my fingers brushed his on accident when I took the cup.

And I didn’t pull away.

We took Eun Ae to the botanical gardens. Let her feed koi fish and run across wooden bridges with her stuffed tiger tucked under one arm. Jungkook stayed close the entire time. Carrying her backpack, tying her shoe when it came undone, wiping ice cream off her face.

It almost looked like a family. 

Almost.

We sat on the grass to rest before lunch, and she ran over to the koi pond like it was a different world.

“She’s so comfortable with you,” I said, trying not to let it sound like an accusation.

“I’m glad,” he said. “I want her to be.”

There was a quiet pause.

Then he looked at me and said something that should’ve been sweet.

But it wasn’t.

“She’s just like you, you know.”

I blinked.

“She’s strong and stubborn and always needs to be right. She even talks with her hands like you do- ”

“Don’t,” I said, sharper than I meant to.

He froze. “What?”

“Don’t compare us like that.”

“I wasn’t- I meant it as a good thing-”

“She’s not a mirror, Jungkook,” I snapped. “She’s a person. Her own person.”

“I know that,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like- ”

“You weren’t around. You don’t know what she’s like. You’ve seen her for what? A week? You don’t get to analyze her like you raised her.”

His mouth opened. Then closed.

And I saw something shift in his eyes.

Something small and hurt.

Then a tiny voice interrupted us.

“I’m sorry,” Eun Ae whispered.

We both turned.

She was standing by the fish pond again, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to make you mad,” she sniffled. “I’ll be good.”

“No,” I said quickly, moving toward her. “Baby, no. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She clung to me like her little heart might explode.

I scooped her up and pressed her to my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, voice thick. “I’m not mad at you. I promise. You didn’t do anything.”

She looked over my shoulder at Jungkook. “Are you mad too?”

He shook his head, eyes glassy. “No, sweetheart. Never.”

“I just wanted to have a nice day,” she mumbled.

My throat tightened.

“I know,” I whispered.

We sat on the bench together for a long time after that.

No one said much.

═══════

Eun Ae fell asleep in the car on the way home, and Jungkook carried her inside like muscle memory. He tucked her into bed without needing directions, covered her with her favorite blanket, and kissed the crown of her head before stepping back like it hurt to walk away.

Neither of us said much after that.

He left for the venue early that night to prep for their final concert.

I stood in the hallway after he left, hand pressed against the door, heart aching like it was made of split seams and bad timing.

I didn’t cry.

But I wanted to.

Because I knew this was what I did.

Push away before I could be left again.

═══════

The stadium vibrated under my feet.

Screams rolled like thunder across the roof, and I could feel the beat of the music reverberating through the concrete backstage walls.

It was the final night of BTS’s residency.

Everything was fire.

Everything was electric.

Everything was right- except me.

I stood at the main comms table with a headset snug against my ears, spitting rapid-fire cues to the light techs, the camera ops, and the runners, my voice a metronome of control.

“Camera C, pan stage right. Cue smoke burst. Light rig alpha, wait two seconds on drop- no, two seconds, not four-”

My tone was clipped. My spine straight.

On the outside, I looked like I had it together.

But I could feel it.

The crack behind my ribs. The pulse behind my eyes. The way I flinched every time his voice cut through the speakers.

Every note he sang.

Every lyric he poured his soul into.

It hurt.

I told myself I didn’t care.

I told myself I was over it.

But every time the lights shifted and his silhouette appeared, I remembered the way he’d looked when he kissed me and the way he’d stayed when I slapped him.

I remembered how his voice broke when he said, “I love you. Right now. All of it.”

I remembered the way he meant it.

And I remembered how much that terrified me.

“Y/N?” someone called in my ear. “Spotlight three needs confirmation. We’re doing the slow solo bridge in thirty.”

I blinked, the fog in my head thick.

“Copy that,” I said quickly. “Cue in thirty. Confirm on bridge.”

I watched the monitors as he stepped up to the center of the stage.

Alone.

Golden lights haloed around him. Fans screamed his name from every direction.

And he sang.

Not just to them.

I knew that voice.

I knew when it was for the crowd…

…and when it was for me.

My hands curled into fists at my sides.

Stop it.

Don’t romanticize this.

Don’t soften.

But I did.

I always did.

Every time his voice cracked. Every time he hit a note like it cost him a piece of himself.

He looked straight into the lens during the final chorus- the one that streamed to every screen in the arena.

It was almost too direct.

Too intentional.

And in that moment, I knew.

He wasn’t singing to a sea of strangers.

He was singing to me.

The cue ended. The screen faded to black. Lights cut. Screams exploded.

My heart thudded harder than the bass.

I turned away from the monitor and pulled off my headset.

I needed air.

The crew backstage was already preparing for encore. The guys were offstage hydrating, catching their breath, prepping for the last two songs.

I slipped through a side door and stepped out into the shadowed corridor by the loading dock. It was cold. Quiet. The noise of the crowd muffled by thick walls.

I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

I didn’t want this to hurt.

But it did.

I didn’t want to care.

But I did.

And worst of all?

I didn’t want to want him.

But God, I did.

═══════

The cheers were still echoing in my bones.

My shirt clung to my back, soaked through with sweat. My hair was dripping. My lungs were still catching up.

But all I could think about was her.

I didn’t see her once during the show. Not backstage. Not in the wings. Not even in the flashes of tech crew darting through shadows.

But I felt her.

Like gravity.

Like silence.

Like a missing beat in the rhythm I couldn’t get right.

I sat alone in the dressing room while the rest of the guys laughed and recapped their favorite fan chants. Jimin had his feet on the table, Taehyung was dancing shirtless with a can of soda, and Jin was complaining about the confetti in his hair.

But I couldn’t join them.

I couldn’t even smile.

My hands trembled as I unlaced my boots. My knees bounced restlessly. My throat was dry, but I couldn’t drink anything.

Because all I could hear was her voice.

“You don’t know what she’s like.”

“You weren’t around.”

“You don’t get to analyze her like you raised her.”

She was right.

Every word.

I’d tried so hard to connect, I didn’t realize I was stepping on landmines she’d spent years trying to bury.

I messed it up.

Again.

“Yo,” Namjoon said, stepping into the room and tossing me a towel. “You good?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“You’re lying.”

I sighed. “I know.”

He sat down across from me, cracking open a bottle of water and sliding one my way.

“She didn’t talk to me tonight,” I said.

“You talk to her?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then maybe she’s waiting.”

“Or maybe she’s done.”

Namjoon didn’t say anything to that. He just leaned back and looked at me with those eyes that saw way too much.

“Do you regret it?” he asked.

I blinked. “Regret what?”

“Kissing her.”

I hesitated.

“No,” I said. “Not for a second.”

“She kissed you back.”

“Just for a second.”

“But she did,” he said. “And that means something.”

“Does it?”

He nodded. “It means she hasn’t closed the door. She’s just scared to open it.”

I stared at the floor.

“I don’t want to scare her,” I whispered. “I just want to show her that I’m not that kid anymore. That I’m not running. That I’m here. I’m here.”

Namjoon leaned forward. “Then tell her. Really tell her. Not to fix things. Not to beg. Just to say it. Say what you didn’t back then.”

I nodded slowly.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” I said. 

“Then tonight’s your last chance.”

“I don’t know if she’ll open the door.”

“Then knock anyway.”

I looked up.

“I’m scared,” I admitted. “If she sends me away, I don’t know if I’ll recover.”

“She won’t send you away,” he said. “Not if you’re honest. Not if you’re real.”

I took a deep breath.

I was real.

I was terrified.

But I was real.

═══════

I didn’t ask what he was doing here.

I didn’t ask why he looked like he hadn’t slept in days or why his fingers were twitching at his sides like they didn’t know how to be still.

I just watched as he stepped inside my apartment, slowly, like the floor might vanish beneath him and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

He stood there for a long time.

Like he couldn’t find the words.

Like if he said the wrong thing, I’d vanish.

I leaned against the wall and waited.

He finally looked up.

“I didn’t know how to leave this city without seeing you again.”

I didn’t reply.

“I’m not asking for anything,” he said. “Not your forgiveness. Not a second chance. Not some happy ending I don’t deserve. I just… I need you to know.”

His voice cracked.

“I need you to know that I never stopped loving you.”

My breath caught.

“I didn’t leave because I stopped. I left because I was scared. And young. And stupid. And then I was ashamed. So ashamed I couldn’t even look at myself. So I blocked you. I shut you out. Because every time I thought of you, I remembered what I threw away.”

My throat burned.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known,” he said. “And you raised our daughter without me. You built a life, a home, a future- and I wasn’t there. I missed her first words. Her first steps. Her birthdays. I missed everything.”

Tears welled in his eyes.

“I don’t deserve to be her dad. I don’t deserve to even stand in this hallway. But I’m here. And if there’s even the smallest piece of you that believes I could be more than what I was-”

He stopped.

Swallowed hard.

“-then I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

The silence that followed felt like thunder.

And then I whispered, “You don’t get to walk back in and say the right thing and expect it to fix the past.”

“I know,” he said, hoarse.

“But…”

He looked up.

“But you said the right thing anyway.”

And then I stepped toward him.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Until I reached for him.

And he broke.

His hands cupped my face like I was something fragile, like I was glass, like he wasn’t sure if I’d let him keep holding me.

And when he kissed me- this time- I didn’t slap him.

I kissed him back.

Hard. Messy. Real.

It wasn’t slow.

It wasn’t soft.

It was years of ache and regret and longing that had nowhere else to go.

His hoodie came off, tossed aside like it was nothing, and mine followed, sliding to the floor in a forgotten heap.

Hands found skin like they were remembering. His fingers traced the curve of my waist, the dip of my spine, like he was mapping me again, reclaiming territory he’d lost. 

My back hit the hallway wall, the cold plaster a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressing against mine. He kissed down my neck, his breath hot and ragged, and whispered, 

“I missed you so much. I missed this. I missed you.”

I moaned into his mouth, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. We stumbled toward the bedroom, shedding layers like they were shackles, breathless and desperate. 

The bed creaked beneath us as he lowered me onto it, his weight hovering above me, his eyes searching mine like he needed permission.

“This okay?” he asked, barely above a whisper, his voice raw with need and uncertainty. I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest, but he needed more. 

“Say it.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He didn’t hesitate. His lips found mine again, hungry and demanding, but his hands were gentle, reverent, like he was worshipping me. He kissed his way down my body, pausing at my breasts, his tongue tracing the curve of my nipples, his lips murmuring praises against my skin. 

“God, I missed these. So fucking beautiful.”

I arched into his touch, my breath hitching as his hands slid down my thighs, his fingers brushing the edge of my panties. He hooked them with a single finger, pulling them down slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. 

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Always were.”

He kissed his way back up, his lips brushing mine before trailing down my neck, his hands roaming over my body like he was memorizing every inch. 

“I’ve thought about this every day,” he confessed, his breath hot against my ear. “Every. Fucking. Day.”

I reached for him, my hands tracing the lean muscles of his back, the ink of his tattoo sleeve, the piercings that glinted under the dim light. He was solid and real, and I couldn’t stop touching him, like I needed to prove he was here, that this was real.

He shifted above me, his eyes dark with need, and I felt him, hard and insistent against my thigh. 

“I need you,” he growled, his voice rough, his hands gripping my hips. “Now.”

I nodded, my heart racing, my body aching for him. He didn’t waste another second. He entered me slowly, his eyes locked on mine, his breath catching as he filled me completely. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, his forehead resting against mine. “You feel so good.”

He began to move, slow and deliberate, his hips rocking into mine, his hands gripping my thighs like he was anchoring himself to me. 

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low and demanding, and I obeyed, my eyes meeting his, holding his gaze as he thrust deeper, harder.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing mine with each movement. “So perfect.”

His words sent shivers down my spine, his praise fueling the fire burning between us. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, meeting his thrusts with my own, our bodies moving in perfect sync. 

“Jungkook,” I gasped, my nails digging into his back, my voice breaking as pleasure coiled tight in my core.

He growled, his pace quickening, his hands gripping my hips tighter, his control slipping. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

His words were my undoing. My walls clenched around him, my body trembling as my orgasm crashed over me, waves of pleasure washing through me, my breath catching in a sharp cry. “Jungkook!”

He whispered into my neck, his lips brushing my skin, his voice hoarse and desperate. “I love you. I love you so much.”

His words were a balm, a salve to wounds I didn’t realize were still raw. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back, my body still trembling as he followed me over the edge, his thrusts becoming frantic, his breath ragged against my skin. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice breaking as he came, his body shuddering above me, his release a sharp, primal sound.

He collapsed onto me, his weight heavy but comforting, his breath hot against my neck. For a moment, we just lay there, our hearts pounding in unison, our bodies still joined, the silence thick with unspoken emotions.

He brushed my hair back and kissed my forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he said, voice trembling.

I didn’t answer.

But I didn’t ask him to leave either.

And that was enough.

For now.

═══════

I woke up to the sound of his breathing.

Slow. Steady.

It filled the room like the soft hum of a song I hadn’t heard in years.

For a moment, I didn’t open my eyes.

I just listened.

Soaked in the weight of him next to me. The warmth of his arm draped around my waist. The rise and fall of his chest behind my back. His hand, large and gentle, resting against my ribs like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go.

The light was pale through the blinds. Morning had barely begun.

But the ache in my chest already knew it was time.

I turned over slowly.

He was already awake.

Watching me.

Not smiling. Not saying anything.

Just looking.

Like this was the first morning of his life that made sense.

I searched his face for hesitation.

There wasn’t any.

Just quiet awe.

And something softer than I knew what to do with.

“You didn’t sleep,” I whispered.

“Didn’t want to.”

I blinked. “Why not?”

He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek.

“Didn’t want to miss this.”

My throat tightened.

I looked away.

“You’re leaving today.”

It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “My flight’s in four hours.”

I swallowed.

“Will you tell her?”

He nodded again. “I want to. When you’re ready.”

“I don’t know when that’ll be.”

“I’ll wait.”

I looked back at him.

He meant it.

“I don’t know what this is,” I said softly.

“Me neither,” he replied. “But I want to find out.”

Silence stretched between us like thread.

“Can I see you before I go?” he asked.

“You’re seeing me now.”

He smiled. Just barely. “After I pack. Before the airport.”

I didn’t say yes.

But I didn’t say no.

He leaned in and kissed me once- just once- like he didn’t want to ask for more than I could give.

Then he pulled back, exhaled, and whispered:

“I’m so in love with you.”

I didn’t say it back.

But I didn’t need to.

Because he pressed his forehead to mine, closed his eyes, and stayed there for a long time.

And when he finally pulled away, when he slipped out of bed and gathered his things, I watched him with something heavy and quiet in my chest.

Not fear.

Not anger.

Something like hope.

And when Eun Ae woke an hour later and asked where Mr. Kookie was, I smiled, just a little, and said:

“He’s not gone. Not really.”

Because for the first time in years…

I believed it.

═══════

Post A/N: dont hate me 😭 there’s still so much to their story

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These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

═══════

Posted: 06/24/2025

Taglist: @mar-lo-pap @lovingkoalaface @whoa-jo @kiliskywalker666 @sucker4jeon @annpeachy-blog @kaiparkerwifes @nikkinikj @elithenium @asyr97 @heyinwluv85s @jjkluver7 @bammbi-jeon127 @kookoo-kachoo @angelsdecalcomania @kayswatanabe @granataepfelchen @kelsyx33 @tatamicc @blubird592 @llallaaa @chromietriestowrite @k1ll1ngcl0wns @jahnaviii @mfsitscho @traumaanatomy @mellyyyyyyx @yu-justme @bangtaniess @xmiaacxio @emmie2308 @magicalnachocreator @suker4angst @dragonflygurl4 @taetaecatboy @somehowukook @iiamnotsure @lavender2ari @busanbby-jjk @prilnextdoor23 @ecomidnight @cuntessaiii @jungshaking @nbjch05 @baechugff @jakiki94 @songbyeonkim

[velvetghoul]

What Remains After Fire

✦ One-Shot

Reader x Kento Nanami | 18+ MDNI

cw: post-shibuya trauma, burn scars, survivor’s guilt, body image issues, one-sided blindness, emotional distance, soft dom/sub undertones, explicit smut (fem receiving), oral sex, crying during sex, possessiveness, praise, gentle manhandling, scar kissing, i needed a hot burned nanami that fits my imagination so i drew one

⸻

You had to knock twice before the door opened.

Not because he didn’t hear you the first time—he always heard you.

But because he had to prepare.

Because letting you in still felt like bleeding in front of someone too soft to watch.

And he hated that.

He hated that you were always gentle with him now. That your fingers hovered before they touched. That your eyes flickered toward the left side of his face, and then away, like you were guilty for even looking.

He hated how you loved him.

And how he still let you in anyway.

“You should stop visiting,” he said flatly when you stepped inside.

“I’m not the man you used to come home to.”

“No,” you answered simply, meeting his one good eye.

“You’re not. But you’re still mine.”

That shut him up.

Like it always did.

You’d known Nanami before Shibuya. Before the fire.

Before the rooftop that nearly killed him.

You’d known the man who brought you tea in the morning. Who folded your clothes, and kissed your temple, and touched you like you were sacred.

But now—

Now he stood in his apartment with his shirt off, half of his body laced in burned skin, rough and marbled and angry. His hair was shorter. His expression harder. And his left eye—whited out, blind—never blinked anymore.

He didn’t wear his watch. Didn’t wear his suits.

Didn’t smile.

“You look tired,” you said softly, setting down your bag.

“I always look tired.”

You smiled faintly. “You always say that.”

He didn’t reply—just turned his back to you, the full canvas of his scarred left side exposed under the late afternoon light. The burns ran from his jaw to his ribs, roping over his arm, his hip… disappearing into the waistband of his dark pants.

You stepped closer. Slowly. Carefully.

“Kento—”

“Don’t.”

His voice was low. Final.

“I don’t need your pity.”

Your chest tightened. You hated this. The silence. The shame. The weight he carried like it was a punishment he deserved.

“You think this is pity?” you whispered.

“You think I pity the man who survived hell and still comes back to me?”

He stiffened. Shoulders tight. Breathing shallow.

“You think I don’t want you anymore? Is that what this is?”

You stepped behind him, your hands brushing the curve of his back—scarred and strong.

“I see you,” you whispered.

“All of you. I love all of you.”

His hand curled into a fist.

“You shouldn’t,” he rasped.

“I’m not gentle anymore. I’m not kind. I’m not—”

“You’re alive.”

Your voice cracked.

“You’re fucking alive, Kento. And I’d take this version of you a thousand times over if it means I get to keep touching you.

Even when you’re angry. Even when you’re cold. Even when you don’t believe you deserve it.”

Silence.

Then—

He turned.

And for the first time in weeks, you saw the hurt in his eye—not the pain he pushed down, but the ache that bled through the cracks.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

You stepped into his space. Cupped the side of his jaw—the burned side. His breath hitched when your thumb brushed the ruined skin like it meant nothing to you. Because it didn’t.

Because it was still him.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“All of you.”

And that’s when he broke.

He kissed you hard—starving, trembling, breathing like you were the only thing anchoring him to the earth. His hands gripped your waist too tight. His mouth crushed yours like it hurt to hold back any longer.

When he carried you to the bed, it wasn’t graceful.

It was desperate.

His lips ghosted over your throat, your collarbone, down your chest.

“Don’t look at me like I’m fragile,” he whispered.

“I need to feel you. All of you.”

“You have me,” you breathed.

Your clothes were gone before you could think.

And when he laid you down, he hovered—touched you like he was fighting against himself.

But his hands shook.

So you grabbed his wrist. Guided him between your legs. Wrapped your thighs around his waist and pulled.

“Stop holding back,” you said. “Take me. However you want.”

Something cracked in him.

He kissed you again—rougher now. His fingers tangled in your hair as he slid inside you in one slow, aching thrust.

And when he bottomed out—when your body clenched around him, warm and perfect and real—he let out the softest sound you’d ever heard from him.

“Fuck,” he choked. “You still feel like home.”

You cupped his face—both sides. Burned and not.

“Then come home.”

The rhythm was slow. Deep. But it wasn’t gentle.

He needed this.

He needed to feel—to own something, to remind himself he was still a man, still wanted, still yours. His grip left bruises. His thrusts made you cry out. And all the while, he watched you—one eye clear, the other a blind haze.

But it didn’t matter.

Because he never looked away.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

“Even now. Especially now. Fuck.”

You pulled him closer—foreheads pressed, breath shared.

“You’re mine,” you whispered.

“Still. Always.”

You came with a sob—body trembling, nails raking down his back, crying into his shoulder as he fucked you through it.

And when he came, it was with a broken groan—buried deep inside you, arms wrapped tight around your waist like he’d never let go again.

Afterward

You lay tangled in the sheets, your fingers brushing over the scars on his chest.

He didn’t flinch.

“Still think I pity you?” you murmured.

He huffed—just barely a smile.

“You’re too stubborn sweetheart.”

“You’re too gorgeous to hate yourself.”

He looked at you then. Really looked.

And with a voice cracked from sex and silence, he whispered—

“Don’t leave. Ever. Please.”

“Not even if you push me away,” you said.

“I’ll come back. Every time.”

He kissed you softly this time. No rush. No shame. Just love.

And for the first time in months…

He believed you.

The sun had just started to rise.

Pale gold light spilled through the bedroom curtains, turning everything warm and quiet and still.

You sat up slowly—sleep-heavy and sore in the best way. The sheets tangled around your hips, your skin still humming from the night before.

He was still asleep beside you.

Kento Nanami.

The man who once lived in starch-pressed suits and schedules.

Now? His hair was tousled from your hands. His jaw shadowed with stubble. His broad chest, half-marbled with burn scars, rose and fell beneath the soft light.

His face was relaxed for once—his lashes fluttering faintly over one eye, the other milky white and motionless. He wasn’t wearing his blindfold. Or a shirt.

And he looked… beautiful.

So damn beautiful it hurt.

Your heart twisted as you looked at him—at the way his scars ran over the edge of his temple, curling down the side of his throat. At the divot in his left eyebrow from where the fire had burned it clean through. At the way his lips still curved faintly in sleep, like he’d found a rare second of peace.

He wasn’t perfect anymore. But he was still him.

And he looked strong. Raw. Real.

And if you were being honest—hot as hell.

Your eyes moved over him slowly. Admiring every inch. Every healed wound. Every part of him that said I made it.

He stirred.

His brows knit first, then his hand shifted under the covers. Slowly, his good eye opened. He blinked up at you, pupil adjusting to the morning light—expression still foggy with sleep.

Then he realized.

No shirt. No eye patch. No armor.

Just you, looking at him like he hung the goddamn moon.

His jaw tensed. His arm twitched toward the edge of the bed like he meant to reach for a shirt or something to cover the burns across his side.

But he didn’t make it that far.

Because you were still looking at him—soft and glowing, head tilted like you were drinking him in.

That look.

That fucking look.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he murmured, voice gravelly, hesitant.

“Did I wake you?”

You shook your head, smiling gently.

“No. I just… I couldn’t stop looking at you.”

He blinked. Once. Slowly.

“You should,” he said, low and dry. “It’s not pretty.”

“That’s funny,” you whispered, brushing a hand over his chest.

“Because I was just thinking you’ve never looked hotter.”

He exhaled—like the air had left him all at once. His throat bobbed.

You leaned in, slowly, and pressed a kiss to the burn-scarred part of his cheek. Then to his jaw. His collarbone. You kissed each ruined inch like it was precious.

He was quiet. Still.

“You really see me like this?” he asked quietly.

“I always have,” you said. “Even when you couldn’t.”

His hand came up, warm and wide, cradling the side of your face.

You smiled into his palm.

“And by the way?” you murmured.

“The tousled hair? The scars? That eye? Yeah. Kinda doing it for me. It is kinda cool.''

He actually chuckled.

A real one.

It was low, hoarse, and soft—but it was his. And his thumb stroked your cheek with a tenderness he hadn’t let himself offer in months.

“You’re impossible,” he whispered.

“So are you.”

He pulled you into his arms. Held you against his bare chest, your legs tangling lazily beneath the sheets. You laid your head where his heartbeat was loudest.

“Don’t hide from me anymore,” you said softly.

He nodded against your hair. “I’ll try.”

And for that morning—just that morning—he didn’t.

You woke slowly, sheets still warm where he’d been beside you.

The space was empty now. But faintly, beneath the scent of sleep and sweat and him, there was coffee. Eggs. Toast.

You smiled. Groggy. Content.

You took your time getting up. Washed your face. Ran your fingers through your hair. Smoothed the lines of last night’s affection from your thighs.

When you stepped into the kitchen— You stopped.

Because there he was.

Standing in the soft morning light, barefoot, shirtless, his lean frame wrapped in low-hanging sweatpants. His back was to you—strong and scarred and sculpted, golden skin interrupted by ripples of rough healed tissue. He was frying eggs with one hand, holding a coffee mug with the other.

You moved toward him quietly.

Wrapped your arms around him from behind.

He stiffened—just for a moment.

But then he let out a breath… and relaxed into your touch.

Your fingers traced down the line of his arm. Over the burns. Down to the soft hair at his wrist. His heartbeat, you could feel it in your cheek as you rested it against the middle of his spine.

You whispered, barely audible—like confessing something secret.

“I love you so much, you don’t even know.”

He stilled again. And this time, it was longer.

He set the spatula down. Turned off the burner.

But he didn’t turn around. “Don’t say that.”

The words were flat. Quiet. But sharp.

You blinked against the sting in your throat.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not true.”

He stepped out of your arms and moved to the far counter—back to you again, that ruined shoulder flexing as he gripped the sink.

“You think you love me,” he said.

“But you’re in love with the version of me that died in Shibuya.”

“That’s bullshit,” you said sharply.

“I loved him. But I love you, too. Even more, actually.”

“We don’t even go out together,” he said, voice low.

“You don’t introduce me to people. You flinch when others look at my face. I see it.”

“You hate yourself so much you don’t even realize you’re projecting it onto me.”

That finally made him turn. You met his eye—his eye, the clear one. The one still full of fire and pride and fear.

He didn’t speak. But the guilt was everywhere.

And you walked to him.

You placed your palms on either side of his face—one smooth cheek, one scarred.

“I don’t care if we never go out,” you whispered.

“I don’t care if we stay in this apartment for the rest of our lives.

I just want you.

I want the man who wakes up next to me and brings me coffee.

The man who kissed me with blood on his hands and swore he’d make it back.

The man who almost died and still found his way home.”

His jaw clenched. You stepped closer and pressed your lips to his chest.

“You think I don’t know what I’m saying?”

“You think this body—your body—doesn’t still make me melt?”

You trailed your lips down the side of his ribs.

He exhaled. Unsteady.

“Stop trying to be the man you were,” you said.

“Let me love the one standing in front of me.”

His arms went around you then—tight. A little desperate.

He buried his face in your hair and whispered your name like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“I don’t know how to be him anymore.”

“Then let me teach you.”

You leaned back. Pressed your lips softly to the corner of his burned mouth. He didn’t flinch this time. Not even a little.

“You’re still beautiful to me,” you said.

“Even like this. Especially like this.”

His chest shook.

Not quite a sob. Not quite a sigh.

Just the first step toward believing you.

That night, you sat on the couch with your legs over his lap.

Nanami was quiet, tracing light circles along your thigh—his fingers following the seam of your sleep shorts like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever touched.

You watched him.

He didn’t look away this time.

“I want you,” you said softly.

He froze.

“I know,” he murmured. “You always say that.”

You leaned in, brushing your nose against his cheek, letting your lips ghost over the burned skin behind his ear.

“No. I mean I want you tonight.”

He turned his head slowly. Met your gaze.

His good eye locked with yours. Unblinking. Unsure.

You smiled.

“Unless you’re too scared,” you teased.

He exhaled. A sharp breath. His hand curled around your waist. And his voice—low, hoarse, worn—broke the tension like fire through fog.

“I’m terrified.”

You kissed him.

This time, it wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t heavy or broken.

It was sweet. Warm. Familiar. The kind of kiss lovers give when they know each other’s breath. Each other’s body. Each other’s fears.

“Let me show you how I see you,” you whispered.

You led him to the bedroom.

Pushed him gently onto the edge of the mattress.

He sat there—bare-chested, vulnerable, gaze flicking from your face to the floor.

So you climbed onto his lap.

You straddled him slowly, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing your lips over the curve of his jaw.

“You’re so fucking hot like this,” you whispered.

“I want to climb you like a tree.”

That made him chuckle.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You like it.”

“I love it.”

His voice dropped, rough and low.

“I love you.”

You reached down, tugging his sweatpants loose until he shifted, hips rising. You slid them off, exposing him to the cool air, his cock already half-hard and heavy against his thigh.

“God,” you whispered, biting your lip.

“You’ve always been big, but I swear—you get prettier every time I see you.”

He flushed. Literally. Blushed. You grinned.

Then you sank to your knees between his legs.

“Baby—”

His voice cracked.

You cut him off with a slow lick up his length, watching him the whole time.

“Shh,” you smiled.

“Let me worship you.”

You took your time.

Used your mouth. Your hands. Your eyes.

Tasted him like he was made of gold, and you’d been starving for it.

He was gasping above you—one hand gripping the sheets, the other shaking against your shoulder. And when you looked up at him, hollowing your cheeks, your tongue teasing the base, you saw it.

That look.

Not shame. Not guilt.

But need. Pure, burning need.

You pulled off with a pop, crawling back into his lap, kissing him until he growled into your mouth.

“Get up here,” he said, voice thick with want.

You grinned.

He flipped you onto your back—gentle but firm. Settled between your legs and kissed every inch of you. Scarred hands tracing your thighs, your hips, your ribs.

And when he finally slid inside you?

You both gasped.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours.

“Missed you like this. Warm. Full.”

You whimpered. Held him tighter.

“Take your time,” you whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He fucked you slow. Deep. His mouth brushing your throat, his hand tangled in your hair. You cried out softly, clinging to him, rolling your hips to meet every thrust.

And when he came, he buried himself inside you—moaning your name like it meant something.

Because it did. Because you were his.

And he was yours.

Still. Always.

Later, wrapped in his arms, his head on your chest, he whispered something so soft it almost didn’t register.

“You saved me.”

You kissed the top of his head.

“You saved yourself. I just reminded you how to love what’s left.”

He smiled.

And this time—really, truly—he believed you.

Later that week

He tugged the hoodie’s sleeves down again.

Not enough to hide the scars on his hand—but enough to feel like he could try. His hair was grown out, messy and soft, tucked behind one ear but falling just enough over the left side of his face.

His eye was still white. Still sightless.

Still his greatest shame.

And this morning, he wore it uncovered.

“I feel ridiculous,” he muttered as you walked beside him.

You squeezed his hand.

“You look hot, actually.”

He shot you a look. You just smirked and leaned up to kiss his cheek. He let you, cheeks flushed, despite the sidewalk café and the world around you.

It was the first time in months he agreed to go out in public with you.

And it was… going okay.

Until the scream.

Both of you turned—instinctual panic rising in his chest, in yours—until you saw them.

Three boys. No older than ten.

All sprinting toward you like tiny meteors.

One with cotton-candy pinkish hair.

One in a white turtleneck pulled over half his face.

And one with a scowl that screamed get out of my sandbox or else.

They skidded to a stop in front of Nanami, grinning up at him, eyes wide and gleaming.

“Wooooow,” the pink-haired one kid gasped.

“You look SO COOL!!”

Kento blinked. You froze.

He looked at you in panic.

But you didn’t say anything. Just smiled.

It’s okay, your eyes said.

“Did you fight a dinosaur?” the kid asked, tugging his sleeve.

Kento… chuckled. Actually laughed, breath puffing out in surprise.

“Yeah kid. Something like that.”

He knelt down slowly, resting one arm over his knee. The sun caught the curve of his scarred cheekbone, the pale film of his white iris.

The silent boy stepped forward. His big dark eyes locked on Kento’s face.

“Whoa… your eye…” He stepped closer.

“It’s like magic. That’s so awesome, sir.”

Nanami exhaled. A soft, shaking breath.

“May I…?” the boy asked, nodding toward his arm.

Kento offered it to him.

And with a featherlight touch, the boy’s small fingers traced the burned skin. Not fearful. Not grossed out. Just curious.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore,” Nanami answered.

The pink-haired kid beamed.

“You’re like, a real-life hero.”

The grumpy one finally stepped forward and crossed his arms.

“You’re cooler than my big brother.”

Nanami let out a soft laugh again. His head bowed slightly.

“Thank you. That… means more than you think.”

The kids gave him a high five—all three at once—and then sprinted off again, shouting things like “WE MET A DINOSAUR FIGHTER!!” and “HIS EYE WAS SO WHITE, I WANT ONE!!”

When he stood up slowly, brushing his palms on his jeans, he was quiet.

You wrapped your arms around his waist from behind.

“That made your day, didn’t it?”

He nodded. Still staring off in the direction the kids had gone.

“I thought they’d be afraid,” he said softly.

“Or disgusted. Or ask their parents to look away.”

“But they saw you.”

You stepped in front of him. Took his face in your hands.

“They saw you. And you were amazing.”

His gaze lowered, mouth twitching.

“A dinosaur?”

You grinned.

“Should’ve seen the other guy.”

And for the rest of the walk, he held your hand openly.

Not hiding. Not ashamed.

Just a man in love, with a scar on his face, and three kids somewhere in the city shouting his name.

And for the first time in too long… he believed he deserved that kind of love.

love this so much!!

໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১ hope you like it!!

be sure to check out my other stuff too <3

[devilfic]

I've seen some comic panels touching on this and I just love the idea of bruce being a little stalker and you having to make peace with it.

you leave for work and then come back five minutes later because you forgot where you left your wallet and then you get a text from bruce that says “bathroom counter upstairs” because he just happened to be watching the tower's camera feed at the time.

or having to take a longer way home because a road has been closed off and getting a call from bruce because he noticed you taking turns you don’t usually take to get back to the tower. he stays on the phone with you until you get back home, even though you know he's on patrol right now because you can hear the wind on the other end.

god forbid you head out somewhere late at night without telling him first. he won't ask questions, he'll just follow you from a safe distance until he's ready to make himself known. when you (reasonably) yell at him about it, he apologizes (very insincerely) and asks what you're up to.

bruce has spent years perfecting the craft of stealth and on top of that, he is a worrywart. he's not the type to fawn over your every move right in front of you. he just... pays attention. watches. plans accordingly. if you are a loved one of bruce's, you are never truly out of sight. take that how you will, he's not gonna change

[redhoodsdeer]

so american (aka civil!reader x vigilante bf jason)

prompt: where the reader is not used to be loved in the right way, or, where jason finds the reader sleeping wrapped in his t-shirt and does everything to show how much he loves her.

a/n: omg hi! i know, i really disappeared this time, but i'm back and with a new imagine! i promise i will post every request that it's on wait list, and become more active in here, anyway, english is not my first language, and i hope u guys like this one ❤️

"he says i'm pretty wearing his clothes" so american, olivia rodrigo

It was already late at night when the window of your tiny apartment opened, showing that your boyfriend had arrived from his usual patrol, unfortunately, you had been asleep for a long time, on the couch, curled up in a shirt at least twice your size, an open book sprawled on the coffee table, in a probably very uncomfortable position.

Jason's eyes lit up when he found your peacefully sleeping figure on the couch, his satisfaction growing even more when he recognized the oversized t-shirt you were wearing, his shirt, the one that had been missing for weeks, but he seen it hidden on your side of the closet, a smile started to take over his face.

He carefully approached you, pulling the blanket from the edge of the couch to cover your soft body, but no matter how gentle his touch was, he saw your eyes slowly opening, blinking slowly as you tried to shake off the desire to return to your deep sleep.

"Jay? What time is it? I'm sorry, I tried to stay awake, but the couch was so comfy" the girl said, trying to defend herself, of nothing, because he was not accusing her at all, and it's obvious when he looks at her face with an expression of pure confusion.

"Why are you apologizing, sweetheart? It's really late, you didn't have to wait for me, come on, let's get you on bed" he says as the girl blinks her big eyes, shaking off the sleep, her arms wrapping almost instinctively around his neck, as he picks you up bridal style, wrapped in the fluffy blanket and takes you towards the bedroom.

It didn't matter how many nights had passed, how many patrols there were, how many times he told her it was okay for her to go to sleep, and that she didn't need to wait for him.

The routine in the end was always the same, him finding her passed out on the couch, curled up in some uncomfortable position, and then carrying her back to the bedroom while she grumbled about how he didn't need to carry her, even though she made no sign of moving, and just curled up tighter into him.

And yet, night after night, she kept apologizing for doing something as silly as falling asleep while waiting for him to come, and as cute as he thought it was, it was starting to get tiring.

"Honey, you know you don't have to apologize every time you fall asleep, right? It's okay to sleep, besides, I love the routine of having to carry you to bed" He teases with a smile on his face that said everything that was hidden behind his gaze.

She curls up on the bed as she waits for him to finish taking off his gear, watching him take off his combat boots and heavy jacket.

"I don't know, I just feel bad, you already do so much for me, the least I could do was wait for you." She says with a look on her face that expressed how much she wished she could do more, how much she felt she needed to do more.

His head tilts slightly to the side as he lets out a tired sigh.

"The only thing I want from you is for you to rest, so you can be beautiful and happy the next day, and not look like a tired zombie, you know that's more like my thing." He teases, smiling mischievously, drawing a little laugh from her pretty lips, as the bed moves with the new added weight.

His arms go straight to her waist, as if there was a supernatural force pushing them towards her. They curl up comfortably around each other, his head tucked into the space between her neck and shoulder, leaving kisses that were anything, but innocent.

"Maybe I have to tire you up, so you finally stop being so stubborn and go to sleep," he jokes, smiling as he bites lightly her earlobe, making her let out a cute sound between a nervous laugh and the beginning of a moan.

"Jay, stop it, you're tired, let's go to sleep." She protests, moving in his arms as he warmly holds her in place.

"Nah, never too tired for you, love."

His voice sounds huskier as his open-mouthed kisses start to trail down her neck, causing nervous giggles. "You know, I think you should-" He begins as she let out little nervous laughs and giggles, he murmurs against her skin, causing goosebumps, an effect only he could cause on her. "...Wear that shirt more often, you look pretty in my clothes." He says with a naughty smile as he places kisses on the lap of her chest, the part that's not covered by her (his) shirt.

This was going to be a really long night, at least you got a good rest.

[darkbluekies]

MR KRABSSS I HAVE AN IDEAAAAAA!

SO, hedwig has always wanted to be a model, right? What if she's finally establishing a name for herself, getting booked, walking for big designers, and she always bringing darling to her shows. What if darling catches another models eye? they're VERY interested in darling, making hedwig choose between her career and her partner. Which one does she value more? how does she handle the jealousy (not well, obviously). How would our hedwig react to having to choose between her dream job or her dream person?

TEEEHEE I HOPE THIS HELPS IF NOT I HAVE MORE

No tracebacks, no takebacks

Yandere!richgirl oc x fem!reader

Summary: Hedwig has brought you with her on a show in Milano, but another model has set her eyes on you ... and Hedwig has to do her first killing alone.

Warnings: jealousy, drugging/killing, hitmen, Hedwig being very unstable, guilt, Hedwig is very clingy

Word count: 3k

A/N: guys I'm fighting with my phone's keyboard, it autocorrects nonsense, like hedwig to shell. Please dont mind the weird autocorrects ive missed :(

Milano fashion week. First row. Nestled between an influencer and an actress. Easier said than done. Your phone buzzes.

“My turn in 1 minute!! Promise you'll watch!! Take pictures too please I want to post them!!”

You can imagine how she looks, standing backstage in some ridiculously expensive outfit she'll beg to take home, just because she wants to give it to you, nearly jumping with excitement. It's not the first time you've been sitting here, but it hasn't gotten boring yet. The outfits are often interesting. Sometimes funny. Never boring.

She walks out, walking confidently. She always shines, but there's something different about her on the runway. She takes on a role that is different from her normal bubblegum self. Something bolder, almost sexier. They've told her behind the stage to exaggerate it, since her face is often too soft for the harsher themes. But they never deny her. How could they? Heiress to the Carter-fortune? Just having her face on the covers of the runway is enough to pull in seemingly bigger names. 

Hedwig, though, never brags about it. But you can tell on her face that she's well aware of that fact.

She disappears backstage again. Your phone buzzes again.

“Come backstage!! I want my well done kiss”

You rise from your seat and make your way backstage. After telling the guards, and showing a picture of Hedwig kissing you for proof, you’re allowed in. Backstage is always booked and busy. You look around for her. People zoom past you in a blur.

“Oh, hey”, a woman says.

You turn your head. She's a few years older than Hedwig—twenty two at most—and wears an outfit more extravagant than Hedwig's.

“I saw you in the crowd, first row”, she says. “I haven't seen you before. What's your name?”

“Y/N”, you say and try to look behind her, searching for Hedwig.

“Mind if I get your number? I’m in town a few more days for a holiday, why dont we catch up and do something?”

“Well, actually—”

“—actually, she's with me.”

Hedwig's British accent cuts in, cutting the thick tension, but just like cutting hair it grows back twice as thick. She comes up behind the other model and takes your hand, pecking your lips. She gives you a quick smile and then turns to the woman.

“The director wants to speak with you”, she says. “Urgently. Thank you for keeping my girlfriend company.”

With that said, Hedwig turns you and walks. 

“What did she say?” Hedwig asks.

“She asked for my number.”

“Oh, did she now? Bold.” She shakes her head and smiles. “Look what I managed to get you.”

You haven't even noticed the thing slung over her arm.

“Its the cardigan I wore on the runway”, she smiles. “Hold out your arms, let me see you wear it.”

You open, holding out your arms like a scarecrow. She places it on you and takes a step back, smiling ear to ear.

“Actually, I think it fits you better than it did me”, she says and hooks her arm in yours as the two of you start to walk. “Keep it on, let's go back to the hotel, I'm starving.”

“You didn't eat? I made you a snack kit …”

“No, I know, but i forgot it on the counter and I didn't want to bother you to bring it with you. I'll eat it too, don’t worry. My stomach fits both dinner and snacks.”

She holds your hand during the cab ride, leaning onto you and kissing you more than normal. Her mind drifts to the model, who she had found pleasant all afternoon, and finding herself liking her less and less. Her eyes had been watching you with such enthusiasm, those eyes that had been sure she'd get your number. Someone like her isn't used to being told ‘no’. Hedwig would know, she’s the same.

“You’re quiet”, you say.

“Mm … tired”, she hums and nuzzles her face into your shoulder. 

She thanks and pays the driver as the car stops outside the hotel. You had made the mistake of googling your suite before coming and had to rub the screen to make sure there really were those many zeroes.

“What are you feeling like?” Hedwig asks you walk into the giant hall of your hotel “room”. “I could go for salmon … maybe some baked potatoes, but at this point they're optional. I just want fish.”

“Fish and chips?”

She gives you a quick, playful glare.

“When I'm finally out of England?” she chuckles.

“Why go for fish then?” you ask and lie down in bed. “We are in Italy. Didn't you talk about pasta all week?”

“I don't know, I'm not so interested in Italian food anymore … actually, I'm pretty ready to go home.”

“Why? You were so excited. What happened?”

Hedwig sighs and stumbles over to the bed, laying down with her head in your lap. 

“Promise you won’t think I’m dumb”, she mumbles. 

“Of course not”, you reassure her. 

“That woman … who asked for your number … I felt like I was going to explode right there. She didn’t know that you were taken … but she looked at you with such certainty … as if, if she just asked you you’d give it to her without question. As if she expected it. And maybe you would have, if you weren’t with me … or maybe you would have either way—”

“Hedwig.”

“She was beautiful. I won’t deny that. She is famous too. I wouldn’t blame you if you got tempted. That’s why I feel so icky. I wasn’t ready for others to look at you the way I do. I don’t know.”

“Hedwig.”

She hugs your waist tightly, hiding her face into your chest, shivering and breathing irregularly. 

“I can’t live without you”, she breathes out. “I don’t even want to imagine it. I can’t. I can’t. I want you forever.”

“Hedwig, will you let me speak?”

“What?”

“You’re Hedwig Carter.”

“So? My name didn’t draw you to me. Why would it stop you from going to someone else?”

“Hedwig, honestly? Listen to yourself.”

She nuzzles closer, listening to your heart beating beneath your ribs and breathes out. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart”, she whispers. “I just can’t imagine life without you. I need you more than anything else.”

“You’re exhausted”, you say. “You’ve been up on your feet all day and you haven’t eaten. That’s why you’re feeling like this.”

No, it isn’t, Hedwig thinks. I think like this because I’m born like this … and I can’t deny it. I can’t get rid of it. And, oh, how I want to give in to it. It hurts.

“Should I call for room service?” you ask. “You can take a shower in the mean time? I think some warm water will help you relax.”

You’re about to leave the bed when her hand grabs your wrist. 

“Take it with me?” she asks quietly. “Please?”

You nod. She pulls you gently into the bathroom. She’s clingier than normal. If that’s possible. 

You’re both in identical white silk pyjamas. Hedwig loves to match whenever she can, and loves to put you in her clothes. She doesn’t bother to get out of bed to eat. The two of you sit together and watch a movie on the TV with your plates in your laps. She feeds you and wipes your lips with her thumbs, smiling widely. You’re so adorable, her heart can’t take it. She gets cuteness aggression whenever she looks at you. 

You’ve rested your head on her chest halfway into the movie. 

“Sleepy?” Hedwig asks softly and runs her hands through your hair. “It’s okay, you can sleep, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want to miss the movie …”

“We can rewatch it tomorrow. Sleep, if you’re tired.”

Almost as on signal, you fall asleep with your head still lying on her shoulder. Hedwig holds you close, still staring at the TV-screen but not paying any attention. She imagined that woman holding you like this, being able to hold you while you’re sleeping. The thought awoken that familiar burning ice in her. Her heart beats quicker, heavier. Pounding against her ribs. Her hand shakes as she pets your hair. She recognises it. The year to kill. Hedwig licks her lips nervously and looks around, trying to remind herself where she is. She’s not at home. She doesn’t have her hitmen. She’s alone. 

Slowly, she leaves the bed, making sure not to wake you. You mumble something softly and she hushes, gently laying your head down on the pillow. 

“It’s okay, my love”, she whispers as she tucks you in. “Everything’s okay. Just sleep. You’re okay.”

But she isn’t. 

She paces back and forth in the dimly lit hotel suite, arms tightly wrapped around her. 

What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What the fuck do I do?

Shakingly, she runs her hands through her hair.

I want her dead. I want her dead for even thinking that she could snatch her from me.

Hedwig scoffs, turning her head up against the ceiling, still walking back and forth. 

Miss Perfect has never gotten rejected before and was so sure that this wouldn’t be the first time. Thought that what was mine would be easy to take. Yeah, sure. In that case, you haven’t met me before.

She catches a glimpse of herself in the window, the dark night outside it making it into a mirror, and she stops moving. Hedwig tells herself that it’s the lack of light that makes her look like a ghost, but she knows that it very well could be her. 

She didn’t know. It was harmless, wasn’t it? If she had known, she probably wouldn’t have asked Y/N. 

But what if she did it anyways? What if she didn’t care? What if she thought she could have her anyway? That she could steal her? That it didn’t matter if Y/N was in a relationship because she could easily take her? 

I only spoke to her for two hours. 

The modeling world is small. I will meet her again. She will meet Y/N again. She could slip her number to them. They could start talking. She could take her from me. I have to get rid of her before anything happens. 

Hedwig bites her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. She picks up her phone. All model’s numbers are listed in the email she got, incase she wanted to widen her connections. She copies the number and goes into messages. 

“Hi, it’s Hedwig Carter, I was wondering if you wanted to catch a drink real quick?”

She doesn’t have to wait long for an answer.

“yeah, sure! i’m at an after party for some book release right now, meet me after?”

“Of course.”

Hedwig clicks away the messages and goes into dial. She calls a hidden number at the bottom. Quickly, she glances back at the bed. You’re still sleeping. Her heart swells at the sight of your head on the large pillows. You look so small. So protectable. 

“Miss Hedwig?” a rough voice answers. 

“I am going to do something really terrible”, she whispers. 

“What are you going to do?”

“I am …” She looks at you again, making sure. “I am going to kill someone.”

“By yourself?”

“Yes. I-I can’t let this go on. I have to prevent damage.”

“Are you sure? Can’t this wait? You could come back to England, set up a meeting with us and let us handle it.”

“I can’t wait that long. If I don’t do something now … I might explode. I feel like I’m going to scream. I can’t think. I have to get rid of her. I need help. What do I do? How do I make sure it doesn’t trace back?”

The hitman gives her suggestions. If the model has been at a party, giving her a drug overdose won’t be too suspicious. She could very well have gotten it at the party. It could work. Hedwig does not want to stab anyone. The less blood, the less tracing back. 

“I do have a contact in Milano that I could message”, the hitman says. “He won’t do the job for you, but he will get you what you need.”

“Okay”, Hedwig breathes out. “Thank you.”

She hangs up and walks over to the bed, quickly changing into a black dress. You look so absolutely wonderful in the bed. Hedwig blinks away a few tears and tucks you in even cozier, leaning down to kiss your forehead. 

“I will be back soon”, she whispers to your sleeping form. “I will make things right. I will always protect you. No matter the price. I will pay it. Always. I will be back before you know it.”

She leaves the suite, heart pounding in her chest. When she stands in the elevator, she gets the message from the contact. He’ll be waiting outside the hotel. Hedwig shrugs off the guilt and walks out to meet him. He doesn’t seem surprised to see her. Her hitman must have told him a lot about her. 

“This will be enough”, he says and gives her a pill. “It’s basically poison in a pill capsule.”

“And it won’t be traceable?” Hedwig asks, looking up at him. 

“Most likely not. These can be found here and there. I think you’ll be fine. And if not, you have the money for a lawyer.”

“I don’t care about that. I don’t want a rumour. It won’t matter if it’s traceable or not. If I’m connected to a murder rumour … I’m doomed.”

“In that case, make sure to give the victim it as soon as possible. The longer you wait, the less likely it’ll look like it comes from the party.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

She runs off. Better hurry up. 

The woman meets her outside the club. She hugs Hedwig, and she has no choice but to hug back, rolling her eyes behind the woman’s head. Hedwig insists on going inside to check it out, deciding that it’ll be better if the ordeal happens at the club. Much easier to get away with it.

“Why don’t we buy a drink here?” Hedwig asks. “Before we leave?”

“Yes, sure, what do you want?”

“Anything is fine.”

The woman buys two dark drinks, to Hedwig’s delight. In the dark lights of the club, nothing will be visible in the drink. They sit down together by a round table. Hedwig takes small, small sips of her own drink and slips the pill in when the woman isn’t looking. Her head spins with fear. 

“I didn’t know the cutiepie was yours”, the woman says. “She looked quite … misplaced.”

“What do you mean?” Hedwig asks suspiciously. 

“You could tell that she isn’t used to the modeling world. It was kind of cute. She reminded me of a little deer caught in headlight.”

And suddenly Hedwig hates deers. 

“Actually, she’s more of a bunny”, Hedwig mutters and takes a sip of her drink. 

“Have you been together long?”

“Yes.”

“Lucky you.”

Hedwig looks at her up and down. “Yes. Lucky me, indeed.”

She indulges in more small talk about the modeling industry and Hedwig’s family history, but doesn’t talk about you. If the woman tries, Hedwig is quick to steer it away.

“I have to go now”, she says after a while. “My girlfriend is sleeping at our hotel, I shouldn’t leave her alone too long.”

“Yes … of course not”, the woman clears her throat. “Well, thank you for keeping me company.”

“Sure. Bye.”

Hedwig turns and walks. Quickly. The night air hits her like sharp knives. She breaks out into a smile. She did it … and she didn’t get caught. Her first murder executed by herself. 

Damn, don’t get too excited.

She hurries back to the hotel, feet almost stumbling over the cobblestone, wanting nothing more than to curl up beside you again, be in your arms, feel your skin against hers and be able to kiss your pretty lips. She’s almost giddy, which she knows that she shouldn’t, but she can’t help it. 

She changed out of the black dress and back into her silk pyjamas as soon as she gets back into the dimly lit suite. You haven’t moved an inch and you sleep so soundly she’s afraid breathing too loud will wake you. Before climbing into bed, she takes a picture of you, needing to capture your squishy appearance forever. 

“Where were you …?” you mumble tiredly as Hedwig climbs into bed. 

“I was just out on the balcony for some fresh air”, she replies and pulls you into her arms. “Did I frighten you?”

“I missed you …”

Hedwig grimaces, heart swelling out of her ribs and spilling out into her throat. Her mind makes up. She absolutely did the right thing tonight. She can’t imagine anyone else hearing your voice in this soft, vulnerable way. The fact that you don’t even open your eyes, that you trust her enough to know that it’s her, makes her heart ache. 

“It’s okay, my love”, she whispers and kisses your lips over and over again before leaning her head on yours. “I’m back now. I’m here. I won’t let you go for a second.”

Tomorrow morning, the news will be plastered with the news of the dead model and Hedwig will have to pretend to be distraught and mortified. But for now, she doesn’t hide her smile as she nuzzles closer to your warm, soft body, kissing you over and over again. Her own baby, her pretty girl. All for her again. No one, ever, will be able to have you like this. Only Hedwig. She always wins.

[yanyandam]

hii! its me again. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while after I red you post about Bonten guys with a pregnant partner and was wondering if you could write a scenario about it. What if they became parents young, like in their 20s? was thinking about dadRindou, and uncleRan that always spoils his niece to get Rindou mad. its just makes me laugh idk why. or Kakucho, he would be such a cutie! a loving and bellissimo dad 😫.

anyway, could u write about that please? ill give u some cookies.. ♡

Thanks for the cookies, ts gave me inspo to post twice in a day lmao! Here, since they are young I consider that we're at the genesis of Bonten, end of KMG! Hope you like it

BONTEN AS YOUNG FATHERS: HOW DO THEY HANDLE IT?

It probably, if not obviously, wasn’t voluntary for Manjiro. He wasn’t the type to plan a family, even worse with his mental state. He stays, at least for a while, but not in the way a normal father would. He’s conflicted and deep down terrified. When you told him you were pregnant, he didn’t react at first. He just sat there, cigarette balanced between his fingers, eyes dark and unreadable. The silence stretched long enough that you thought he hadn’t heard you. Then, he let out a slow exhale. "I see."

That was it. No anger, no questions. Just that flat response, as if you’d just told him it might rain tomorrow. But you saw it: he was trying to process a feeling he wasn’t ready for. He stayed, at first. Not because he thought he’d be a good father, but because he couldn’t just leave you to handle it alone. He made sure you had everything, money, security, a place to live where no one could touch you. But as the months passed, his visits became more infrequent. When the baby was born, he held them exactly once. His hands cradled the tiny, fragile body, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his expression. Something like dread.

He never got angry. Never acted resentful. But he also never truly let himself get close. He knew he was unstable, violent, cursed. He refused to let that darkness stain the child’s life.Sanzu had ordered you to stay away, you and that child, you who made Mikey almost weak.

Kakucho stepped in instead for some time. He visited often, brought gifts, asked about school. He wasn’t overly affectionate, but he was present, out of pity perhaps. He disappeared too, after some time. Mikey watched from afar. Always making sure you were safe. Always making sure his child had everything they needed. But he never let himself be called “father.” Eventually, he disappeared completely soon after Bonten’s biggering. Not because he didn’t care, but because he believed it was the only way to protect the child from himself.

Before starting, just so you know: hell no. It wasn’t voluntary for Sanzu. He stays (kinda) but the kid isn’t his priority. At first, he laughs it off. He doesn’t see himself as the “dad” type.  "You serious? Shit, that’s funny." It wasn’t that he hated kids. He just didn’t think of himself as the fathering type. His whole world revolved around the King, killing for him, cleaning up his messes, staying utterly, mindlessly loyal. So the idea of being responsible for a baby? It felt ridiculous. He didn’t leave, but he wasn’t really “there” either. The most he did was throw money at the situation, expensive strollers, private hospitals, a nanny that cost more than most people’s salaries. He wasn’t heartless, but he had no idea how to be soft. Because no one had ever been soft to him before.

But sometimes, he’d linger in doorways, watching the kid with a strange, unreadable look. He never played with them, never spoke much, but if you were struggling, he’d suddenly drop an obscene amount of cash on anything you needed.

Wasn’t voluntary for Kakucho either but he does take full responsibility. He stays, and he’s a good devoted father. Unlike the others, he steps up immediately. He wasn’t planning on having a child, but now that it’s happening, he refuses to be absent. The others in the gang tease him about it, but deep down, there’s respect. They see how serious he is, how he never complains about it. Some of them start calling him "papa" as a joke, but when they see how much effort he puts in, they stop laughing. Even as the gang grows darker, bloodier, crueler, he stays. He keeps his child and their mother away from it all, doing his best to shield them. But the guilt never leaves. The fear that one day, someone will use his family against him eats at him constantly.

One night, when the baby was sleeping on his chest, Kakucho let out a rare, quiet sigh and whispered: "Maybe… maybe you won’t turn out like me." (Bonus: I feel like Ran would take the uncle role)

Apparently it wasn’t voluntary for Kokonoi, but when you saw him unimpressed you started to have doubts. He stays, in his own way. His first reaction? Annoyance. Not because he doesn’t want the kid, but because it’s an inconvenience to his ambitions. At first, he keeps his distance, throwing money at the problem. He makes sure the mother and child want for nothing: best doctors, best schools, best life. But is he there? Not really. Still, he keeps watch. He might not act like a loving father, but if anyone even thinks about messing with his kid, they disappear. No questions asked. He never lets his child fully in, but he’ll die before he lets anyone hurt them.

When the baby was born, he didn’t rush to hold them. Instead, he stood at the edge of the hospital room, arms crossed, analyzing the situation. And then, when you finally placed the newborn in his arms, something cracked in his cold exterior. It wasn’t love at first sight. But it was responsibility. A realization that this was his blood, his legacy. As the child grew, he was a strict but protective father. Private tutors. No public schools. Everything was carefully managed. He rarely showed affection, but if anyone insulted his child, they disappeared.

Wasn’t voluntary for Mochi either, but saying he never wanted a family would be a lie. Does he stay? Absolutely. He feels like the child keeps him sane.

Oh. froze when you told him. "Wait, wait—I'm gonna be a dad?" His face went pale. He rubbed his forehead. "Oh shit. Ohhh shit." It wasn’t that he didn’t want the baby. It was that he didn’t trust himself. But unlike the others, he didn't try to distance himself. He was there for every step. The ultrasounds, the cravings, the panic attacks at 3 AM. He wasn’t the strongest or the smartest, but he cared. When the baby was born, he was the first one crying. Holding that tiny, fragile body against his chest, he whispered, "I’m gonna do my best. I swear." He spoiled the kid rotten. He was the type of dad to buy them candy before dinner, to let them stay up past bedtime, to sneak them out for fun little adventures. Kakucho (aka everyone’s favorite uncle atp) took a liking to the kid. "If they grow up weak, it’s on you," Kokonoi muttered once, watching the kid cling to their father’s arm. But he still bought them presents. Still watched out for them.

Oh oh. Ran. Not voluntary either, but he didn’t think it was a big deal. I still believe in the Girl Dad! Ran legacy, no really can YOU imagine this guy with a son? This was different for him. He'd raised his brother. He already knew how to be responsible for someone else. So when you told him? He didn’t panic. Didn’t hesitate. He just exhaled, rolled his shoulders, and smirked. "Alright, then. Guess I’m a dad now." (nonchalant ahh) And when the baby was born, a little girl, he was wrapped around her tiny, chubby fingers instantly.  She was his princess. Everything she wanted, she got. The best clothes, the best toys, the best of everything. He made sure no one ever looked at her the wrong way. His club’s security knew her name, his men knew to respect her like royalty. But he wasn’t just a spoiling father.

He was strict, protective, and intensely involved. He taught her how to stand tall, how to own a room. How to glare at men like she was the fucking queen of the world. And his younger brother? He was her only and favorite uncle, and wouldn't trade him for anything. They argued, fought, teased each other but Rindou would die for his niece. And one night, when the little girl was asleep on his chest, Ran whispered, "No one’s ever gonna touch you. You’ll never have to go through what I did. I promise."

Voluntary or not, Rindou loves his child. He stays, even when Bonten grows. He lowkey feels trapped, yet devoted. He wasn’t ready to be a father, but when the baby is born, something softens in him.

Even when he’s deep in the underworld, he makes sure his child never sees it. He won’t let them become like him. He didn’t take it well at first. He was young, arrogant, still living fast and reckless. "This wasn’t supposed to happen," he muttered, rubbing his face. "You know what kind of life I have." He didn’t want this. Yeah. At first, he felt trapped. Like this wasn’t how his life was supposed to go. "This is a mistake," he muttered when you told him. "I’m not meant to be a dad." 

But his older brother didn’t let him run. "You don’t get to fuck up a kid’s life just because you’re scared."

And so, he stayed. At first, he was distant. He did the bare minimum, money, security, checking in once in a while. But then, the kid smiled at him. Called him "Dad" for the first time. And suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. From then on, he was involved. Rough around the edges, still emotionally distant, but he tried. His older brother was his biggest support. Kept him grounded. Helped him become a father instead of just some guy who had a kid.And one night, when the child was asleep, he sat on the couch, staring at them for a long time before murmuring: "…Guess you got stuck with me, huh?" He wasn’t perfect. But he never left.

[kanmom51]

Jikook in bed - Part 1

I am pissed and in a not good way.

Worked over 4 hours writing this post, saved to drafts only for the whole damn thing to just disappear.

Did I mention I am pissed?

Cause I am.

Ok, let me take a breath and try to put down on paper my thoughts, hopefully I will remember some of them.  Sob sob.

Jikook in bed. 

Who would have thought that I would be writing a post about Jikook in bed? 

Please don't answer my rhetorical question, lol.

Who thought after the Jikook drought we got in 2023 that we would be getting this, eh?  And yet, here we are.  Me losing count of the number of posts I’ve already written about episodes 1 and 2 alone of Are you sure?! And I’m not done yet.  And another episode is coming today!!!

Did I mention just how overwhelmed I am?  In the very best way.  Well, other than being pissed at Tumblr for throwing away my hard work. 😭😭

I’ll be breaking this down into 2 parts because damn it, there is so much to say about these two short clips we get of the two in bed.  Both playful.  Both sus as shit.  If shit is sus – I guess we can ask JM on his thoughts about that – yes I did go there.  Poor man is not going to live this down, and now I understand why he kept asking if this could air – not because he was worried about their flirty handsy moments.  NOPE.  But because of the shit, lol.

Ok, so part 1 will be focusing on the brushing teeth in bed, while part 2 will focus on the handsy cuddly butt wacky master bedroom action.

When watching the whole brushing teeth in bed I had to ask myself a multiple why’s?

Why brush teeth in the bedroom? 

Or more so, why in that bedroom?

Why not in the bathroom?

Perhaps because we would see they are both using the master bedroom ensuite?

It’s not that we couldn’t deduce that from the footage, but that would take more looking into, which let’s be real, most army don’t do.  They watch it once or twice and many don’t pay attention to the details.  A lot of details need us to view the footage multiple times something that most army are not into – they don’t care to find out more.  They see the surface, JK and JM being cute, and that’s enough for them to say “oh, they are so brotherly…. Such brotherly love…” without wanting to see anything else.

But if you do look closer you see A LOT.

You see that JM does the tour of the house, showing us 4 bedrooms, first one being a master bedroom with a king size bed and an ensuite he shows us.

An ensuite we later see JK in while preparing to go out shopping.

So yes.  They were both using the same bathroom in that huge modern fancy house with 4 bedrooms and obviously more than one bathroom that happened to be the ensuite to the master bedroom.

And perhaps they didn’t want it to be too obvious.  Because why use that same bathroom? 

*side note: at this point, when JM goes to check on JK there is clearly a staff member in there with them. The way the camera moves the angle of filming changes, it's clear that is not a static camera, unlike the ones we got from the bedrooms and hallway at night and in the morning. It looks like the staff member is using JM's go pro to film that and as JM walks out of the bathroom the camera changes hands and JM has it. And I state this because most of the time there wasn't staff in the house with them. For a lot of the time they had the house to themselves. My educated guess would be that just like we saw they had control over the cameras in the house, could easily turn them on and off (JK with the hallway camera), they were the ones to decide when the staff can join them in the house to film or resume filming.

Another possible reason why we got the bedroom scene would be that they didn’t want to place a camera in the bathroom, which they obviously didn’t. I mean, that bathroom was rather small – you know, as ensuites usually are, and having them both stand there and brush their teeth would be cramped and uncomfortable (we saw that in Sapporo we did have them place that camera for us to see them brush their teeth side by side).  Also, obviously they wouldn’t want permanent cameras placed in the bathroom for privacy reasons – duh.  Even if they did have control over turning the cameras on and off. In Sapporo it’s clearly a camera they set up themselves, one they could just pick up and take away. They placed it there for the purpose of filming themselves brushing their teeth side by side. 

So basically, imo, this whole brushing teeth in the bedroom JK was supposedly sleeping in was a combination of it all.

They wanted us to see them brush their teeth prior to going to sleep.  They didn’t want us to see that they were sharing the ensuite bathroom (the bathroom connected to the room JM was sleeping in).

And the cherry to top it all is showing us this is where JK is going to spend the night.

Because that was somehow something they needed to show us.

Unlike the cabin with the one bed, that didn’t ‘allow’ for another option, the two spending the night in the same bed while there are another 3 lovely empty rooms available, would be too much perhaps.

You know, deniability and all. 

Makes even more sense seeing this was filmed in July 2023, and the two did not know just yet what lies ahead of them when it comes to their enlistment.

Let’s talk about that for a sec, why don’t we?

Those cameras in the house, they were placed ahead of time.  Before the two arrived.  I’m talking about the permanent cameras – the ones downstairs, the one in the hallway, the one in JK’s bedroom, the one in the master bedroom.

This was decided ahead of time – that they will not be sharing a bedroom.  Not on camera anyway. And this wasn’t their decision!

I don’t think that JM asking while standing in that room whether to sleep together with JK, adding a comment about getting hit was an actual contemplation on his part.  I think it was him signalling that it’s definitely an option and perhaps the reason why he won’t be is because of not wanting to get hit.  Him doing all of that when JK is there in the room with him (probably going through his luggage which was probably there too – we don’t get to see, but it makes sense seeing how small the other room was and the fact that JK was using the ensuite).  We also see JK throw something onto the bed – perhaps a heat pack he took out of that luggage?  But he’s there and they leave the room together shortly after.

"Should I sleep next to Jungkook tonight? Will he hit me again?"...

Again, let me be clear here with what I’m saying.  JM asking this was a mute question, and he knew it, seeing that they were both well aware of the fact that cameras were already placed in the two bedrooms expecting them not to be sharing that bed.  At least not on camera.

And you know where else you see that bemusement about the separate beds?

In the trailer where we get them in Sapporo the two standing in the hotel room JK asking JM which bed he wants to choose.  JM’s reaction super telling. 

And what about the house in Jeju?  Clearly that second bed was brought up from the room downstairs (we know that from the original layout of the house).  Yes, Tae was joining.  But wouldn’t that be less sus them sharing a bed?  We’ve seen them all share beds in previous content.  Tae literally shared one with his mates back in 2022.  I guess that the idea was to show us that when there is an option they won’t share a bed?  That the CT cabin was a ‘must’ as there was only one bed and there was no choice?  Strange, seeing that there were other options for cabins that were not 1 shared bed.  Well, never mind that.  In any case I guess there was need for the deniability, seeing as to how cozy those two were the next day in that one bed in the master bedroom. 

Seeing that plus knowing they shared a bed could be construed as too much perhaps.

Btw, you know what that whole scene in bed reminded me of?

Remember that time JK was asked what his favourite memory from their trip to Tokyo?

Remember his answer?

JM staying up until 5 am on his phone and sleeping in the next morning?

Sorry, but that constant smirk on JM's face... to die...

and

Yes Jeon. "He" didn't sleep at night. That's why both of you overslept the next day.

*Side note: at the end of the interview/sit down JM won a gift which guess who was given straight away?

Well, them in bed together there in CT, seeing those few seconds we were allowed to see (with the many cuts) – that is how I picture them in Tokyo on that trip.  Those calm almost boring moments in bed together.  On their phones.  Snuggling.  Playing.  Just enjoying being next to each other, just the two of them, outside world be damned. 

That is what JK loved most in Tokyo. That is what was most memorable to him (our introvert sweetie).

And he got that here as well.

You could argue: "what's the difference here from the two spending time together in bed in Seoul at either of their palaces?" And my answer to that would be:

EVERYTHING.

How can you even compare? Being back in Seoul, with all the playing around their schedules and stress and pressures and anxiety that still linger even when you are home, even when you are together with your loved one. You can't compare it to this. JM taking the time off to be with him. JK taking the couple of days off during his promotions for his first solo debut. Getting away from it all. Spending those 3 days together alone. No work. No stress. No pressure. Even with JK feeling physically off and JM's diarrhea. Just the two of them, away. Away from everything and everyone. Having those tiny every so important soft moments.

Or in layman's words: having a cuddle at home is not the same as having that cuddle when away, taking that time to spend together as a couple. It's just not the same. It's so much more. And that is also why it was so memorable for JK back in 2017.

I’m getting kind of emotional here folks.  Don’t mind me.

Let’s get back to the brushing teeth in bed, shall we?

Again, in the second bedroom and not the master, even though it’s the master ensuite they are using as a bathroom!!

Why not see them brush their teeth on the master bed?  Yeah, I think I answered that one already.  We weren’t supposed to deduct that JK was using the master ensuite.

We were to know that JK was sleeping in that room, we even got to see him go to sleep and wake up there.  It was very important that we see that.  Not make a mistake that maybe, just maybe, they spent the night together.

What do I think, you ask?  I will tell you, even if you didn’t ask, lol.

I think that JK probably did sleep in that bed for a bit.  A BIT.  Like a really really short bit.

I also think that they spent much time together in that one bed in the master bedroom.  They got the pre-sleep cuddles (that we didn’t get to see) and they got the post-sleep cuddles (that we also didn’t get to see – and I’ll get into that in the next post – just saying that JK walking into the room and out of it after he woke up – the first time he goes in and out – there was a HUGE chunk cut out of the footage).

Oh, and they got the post-JK eating crap for breakfast- cuddles too.

This isn’t going the way I wanted it to, lol.  I’m talking too much about stuff that is meant for part 2 of Jikook in bed.  You see, this is why it is all intertwined and if there wasn’t an issue with image limits or readers losing focus with too long posts this would all be one post.  But 'tis what 'tis and I have to stop talking about the master bedroom!!!

So, back to the toothbrushing.

This was them:

JK literally pulling JM down to lie on the bed.

The giggles (oh, what I want to say now and am holding myself back).

Their playfulness is on another level.

Add the legs over shoulder.

After JM laying his legs on JK's shoulders, JK grabbing the legs and pulling JM even closer in.

I love how with Jikook we live on moments that remind us of other moments. And this one kind of reminds me of another moment back from 2019 during rehearsal for the LY concerts, JM coming in behind JK to hold him and JK pulling JM's arm in for an even closer hug.

And we have cuts, of course.

So many of them.

Including this one.

And this one.

The cuts.  We should talk about them for a sec. 

There is hours and hours of footage, and obviously there are things that are deemed to end up on the editing room floor.  Footage that might be boring or irrelevant to whatever it is they want to be showing us.  There is also a time constrict that needs to be kept.  Understandably not everything can be left in.

But it’s some decisions that make you raise an eyebrow.  Some of those editing decisions that make you think – why cut this?  Why not leave the flow? 

And these moments are exactly those type of moments.

Obviously the fans will go crazy for seeing them be so playful and mucking around.  They are brushing their teeth and it’s clear this isn’t something that is going on for too long of a time.  So, why not allow us to see the FULL interaction?  I think we know the answer to that, don’t we?  Once again it’s those two being too much.  Too obvious.  Too handsy. Too couplie.

How exactly does JK end up with his back to us?

Why is he with his back to us?

Why is the whole scene with JM’s legs hanging over JK’s shoulders cut short?

And why does JK continue to be with his back to us after this has clearly ended and JM is sitting on the edge of the bed?

I kind of think that I know why JK was sitting with his back to us, and why it’s cut at that point and we never get to see them get out of that bed.

Great time to sign off.

See you for part 2 of Jikook in bed.

[k4vehrtz]

STARBOY

-> Pairing: shōta aizawa / sub! (trans) male reader

-> Request: yes / no

-> Word Count: 1K (roughly)

➷...Summary: shō offers a helping hand (more like mouth) when you're in need.

-> Notes: not the fic that was meant to be posted this week but seeing as that one is yet to be completed i thought i would post this request in the meantime!

➷...Content Warnings: vaginal descriptions, use of the word cunt, mentions of testosterone, exhibition, age gap (though not specified, both are adults), coach/athlete trope(?), oral (reader receiving), squirting, being caught masturbating, biting, at some point it is implied that shō may have a negative reaction to the reader being trans but he does not. if i miss anything let me know.

“You've got to be—holy shit, this can’t be real.” He grunts, his voice a gravelly whisper amongst the sound of sneakers frantically shuffling across the court. Jesus. His free hand immediately goes to his mess of black hair, strumming his calloused fingers through the stray strands clinging to his sweaty forehead.

It’s a lost cause — it’s all a fucking lost cause. This team is the last nail in the coffin that was Shōta Aizawa’s career as an athlete.

The corners of his lips can’t help but curl upwards at that thought. An athlete? Maybe some ridiculously delusional part of himself still had a shred of his youthful shamelessness. He is, and has been, a disgrace for quite some time now.

His days of being a household name are long gone. You’ve taken his place now, haven’t you? You’re a good player, a team player, and not too hard on the eyes either.

Shō’s had his eyes on you for a while now. You’ve come a long way since he first saw you handing out water bottles to the members of your team. Now you’re destroying his team on the court. It takes every ounce of self-control in him to not laugh. Funny how the world works, right?

 Shōta Aizawa prides himself on how mature he is. He’s not going to pick a fight with you. You’re half his age for crying out loud. He’s above that because he’s incredibly mature; As most people his age would be.

So, it’s purely coincidental that he’s in the same locker room as you. He just happened to take a wrong turn when attempting to find his team. As their coach, it’s his duty to comfort them after such a…horrific loss. But accidents happen and he couldn’t just waltz in here without conversing with you. What if you misunderstood and painted him out to be some kind of pervert? It’s only right that he makes small talk.

But the words that were at the tip of his tongue disappeared in an instant. Perhaps his critical thinking skills have gone along with it. Well, this is quite the turn of events, isn’t it?

“…In all my years of playing this damn game,” He cocks his head sideways, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I’ve never found it remotely arousing.” He says pointedly, clicking his tongue. Your skin warms.

You open and close your mouth once, twice, and then a third time but no words slide past those ridiculously beautiful lips of yours. Shō doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s staring. “Each to their own,” He shrugs and you want nothing more than the floor to swallow you whole.

“I…” You start, scrambling to find the right words to say. But in a situation like this, what could you say? The coach of the opposing team just walked in on you with your hands down your pants. Not a good look.

“Wh–What are you even doing in here, first of all?” You counter, fighting a heated blush as you not-so-discreetly pull your hand out of your shorts. Fingers coated in your arousal fluid.

Silence, then a moment later he deadpans, “Got lost, and then walked in on you…doing whatever it is that you were doing.” And before you can stop yourself, “It’s the testosterone, I can’t help it, alright?” you dig yourself into a deeper hole.

Shō blinks at you, once, twice, and then a third time. It’s like you’re taking turns leaving one another speechless. Before his mouth forms something of an ‘O’ shape. You grimace, bracing yourself for this embarrassing situation to take an even worse turn. But it doesn’t.

“Jesus,” He curses, more so to himself, and then takes a deep breath. “I can leave so you can finish—” He stops himself, sounding embarrassed, “…or I can help you with that problem of yours.”

“Go—You can go ahead,” you say, swallowing hard. Everyone has their needs, you remind yourself.

Shō’s gaze meets yours momentarily, silently requesting your approval once more. You nod, turning your head to the side as you lay on one of the benches, your legs spread. Dripping cunt on full display.

He lowers his face in between your legs without hesitation, warm breath tickling your sensitive thighs. As his teeth gently graze the fat of your thighs. He takes his time, gently nipping at your thighs before trailing light kisses up either one. Stopping just short of your drooling hole.

It’s torture, really. The way he alternates between light kisses, gentle nips, and then full-on sucking hickeys onto your inner thighs. Always stopping short of your cunt.

The rough pads of his fingers dig into the skin of your hips as he holds you in place. He’s a lot stronger than he looks. His tongue lapped at your thighs covered in arousal fluid. It’s like he’s never tasted anything sweeter and you squirm, utterly embarrassed. Embarrassed by how wet it makes you; Embarrassed by the sounds you’re both making.

After what felt like hours—You don’t know, you’ve lost track of time. His mouth moves from your thighs to your glistening labia. He presses a kiss to your outer lips, taking his time to spread them, before licking a fat stripe over your labia. You feel yourself tremble, biting down on your lower lip to stifle your moans. There are still people outside. But you’d be lying if you said that didn’t make it all the more exciting.

And then it happens without warning — his tongue breaches your entrance. Your eyes flutter closed, and you knit your brows together when you feel him squeezing your clit in between the rough pads of his fingers. It’s all so perfect. He’s dragged this out for far too long.

He’s so good to you. Your legs are shaking but he holds you in place with one hand as he laps at your sopping-wet cunt like it’s his last meal. You can feel your orgasm creep up on you and oh when it does, you’re squirting. Spraying your juices all over his face, and he doesn’t protest in the slightest. He pulls away, lips quirking, and licks what’s left on his face contently.

[tune-on-in-folks]

Day 16! Posted on the 18th because I was really struggling with this prompt. Also took a couple of days away from tumblr and posting for my own sake. This is my third iteration of this prompt, so I hope you like it!

Alastor x Reader x Vox

Tags/Warnings: Threesome, M/M/F, Double penetration, double vaginal penetration, fem!reader, porn without plot, rough sex, soft Alastor, soft Vox, def. not in character, first time writing a threesome, shenanigans Word Count: 1, 944

You had managed to draw the affections of both Vox and Alastor. Both Overlords had approached you days apart from one another, with the intent to bed you. You never read into either of their intentions further than them wanting you for sex. So you never mentioned one to the other, why would you have a reason to? They were rivals, and as long as they didn’t know about one another, then you were getting twice the sex. You saw Vox at work and Alastor at the Hotel. They were separate and you were intent on keeping them that way. You knew if they were aware of one another it could easily turn into a pissing competition, or you could be in for a world of trouble. You hoped they’d remain ignorant and so far, they had.

Vox had called you on your day off, which was why you were now half-way to his office, with no panties on beneath your skirt. He could have only called you for one reason and that was for sex. Both Vox and Alastor had been slightly distant for the past week, not once inviting you to their beds. You didn’t think anything of it, they were both very busy men, after all.

You push open the door to Vox’s office, putting on a soft smile for your lover as you come up towards his desk.

“Hello, Vox.” You greet, your voice dipping into a more sultry tone.

He smiles, leaning back in his chair, saying your name softly, “You’re just the person I wanted to see.”

You walk around his desk, leaning back against the surface and spreading your legs wider for him. “Mhm, you’re also just the person I wanted to see.”

He chuckles, leaning forward to brush his hands up your thighs. “Oh yeah? Is Alastor busy?”

Disbelief shot through you and you huffed out a laugh. “Alastor? What does he have to do with this?”

You felt the Radio Demon’s presence before you heard him.- “I believe I have plenty to do with this.”- He drawled, his hands coming to trap you on either side, his chest pressing against your back.

You were fucked.

You had to be. Because here you were, trapped between both of the Overlords who you had been sleeping with. They had found out and now you were stuck in their web.

Alastor pressed his mouth against the shell of your ear as Vox began to slide your skirt up. “Did you think we wouldn’t find out, little doe?”

The cold terror you were feeling at being caught quickly tinged with arousal as Vox, impatient with your skirt, used his claws to slice it off you. You gasp at the sensation of your skirt being ripped away, revealing your distinct lack of panties.

Vox smirked, forcing your legs further apart. “Thought you were coming here for sex, huh babydoll?”

“Fuck you.” You growl out, feeling a mix of emotions and not knowing how to deal with the situation.

He laughed, “Oh we’re going to.”

You swallow hard, feeling Alastor begin to trail kisses down your neck.

“Did you truly think you could play us both for fools, my dear?” He mummers, nipping your collarbone sharply.

You gasp again, pressing back into Alastor as Vox stood and reached for his belt.

“I didn’t…” You whimper, your eyes never leaving Vox as he freed his cock and stroked it languidly. “...mean to.”

Alastor pulled away, disappearing into the shadows only to reappear in front of you, standing next to Vox. He leaned on his microphone, leveling you with an even stare.

You take a deep breath, interrupting him before he could speak. “You both approached me at similar times. I didn’t think it mattered that either of you knew about one another.”

Vox reaches for your hand, which despite yourself, you willingly take.

“Unfortunately  it does matter, babydoll.” He growls, pulling you into his chest. “Playing with both of our hearts isn’t a very smart thing to do.”

“Lucky for you...” Alastor stepped in, his cane disappearing into the shadows. “We know how to play nice when we have a common goal.”

You whimper as Vox grasps your shirt before tearing it off you. Your bra meets a similar fate, leaving you completely naked, save your shoes. Vox kicks your legs apart, lining himself up with your entrance, finding you soaking.

“Damn, so wet for us already babydoll.” He thrusts into you, kissing you to swallow your moans.

Alastor rolls his eyes, taking a step behind you as Vox begins to thrust into you. You whimper against his kiss, letting his tongue slip into your mouth as he picks up the pace. The wet slap of your bodies fills the air, your moans slipping past the kiss. His claws dig into your ass, piercing your skin, his pace bruising.

“Do be more gentle with her, you don't want to break her.” Alastor scolds.

Vox pulls away from kissing you to flash Alastor a cocky grin. “Oh she can take it, can't you doll?”

You nod, panting heavily to regain your breath. You moan softly as he continued to fuck into you harshly.

“I know she can take it. I'm surprised you haven't ever noticed the marks I've left.” Alastor retorts, reaching to free his own hardening member.

“I did.” Vox growls, pulling from you suddenly, making you whimper. “That's why we're here, asshole.”

Alastor's smile widens as he frees his cock, nudging Vox out of the way. You would have laughed at Vox stumbling if Alastor hadn't immediately thrust into you to replace him. You groan at the difference of their lengths and girth. You wrap your arms around Alastor's neck as he braces you against him, hiking your leg up around his hip.

“Indeed.” Alastor muses, effortlessly continuing his conversation with Vox despite beginning to fuck into you. “Though it was your scent on my little doe that tipped me off to you.”

Vox huffed, having regained his balance. He stepped up behind you, brushing your hair back as he pressed kisses against your neck. He ran his slick cock over your asshole causing you to gasp and stiffen. Alastor groaned as you tightened around his cock.

“Absolutely not!” You hiss at Vox, interrupting whatever he was going to say to Alastor.

You press closer to Alastor, trying to worm away from Vox’s cock pressing against your tight hole.

Vox chuckles, turning his attention to you, “you don't get much of a say right now, Dollface. You've gone around and broken both of our hearts, that deserves some punishment.”

Your eyes meet Alastor's, wide and begging, as you try to ignore Vox’s words. “Alastor, please don't let him.”

The Radio Demon hums, pressing a soft kiss against your lips before glancing up at Vox. “At least prepare her first.”

Your eyes widened at the betrayal, but you figured they must have also felt betrayed, finding out that they weren’t the only one you were with. You swallow, realizing that you truly didn’t get a say in how they decided to punish you. This was mercy.

Vox shrugged, stepping up closer to you, his chest pressing against your back. “I could, or I could do this.”

He slid his cock from your tight hole, right to where Alastor was buried deep inside you. He began to press into your already full cunt causing you to gasp and whimper. Alastor's eyes flashed with a dangerous light as Vox thrust into your pussy, his cock sliding against Alastor's.

“Fuccck.” He groaned, pressing his face against your shoulder. “How's that, doll? Better than in your ass?”

You felt impossibly full, your body struggling to comprehend both of their cocks buried in your cunt. They were stretching you painfully, but you couldn't deny the fact that it was incredibly erotic to have them both inside you.

“Yes…” you whimper, speaking before Alastor could object to having to feel Vox's cock against his.

“I rather don't like it.” The Radio Demon snarled, his pupils turning into black radio dials.

Vox flashed him a shit-eating grin. “Too bad you can't do anything about it.”

Radio static picked up around both of you, causing you to cup Alastor's face. The Radio dials immediately disappeared as he softened for you.

“Hey.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Indulge him, for me?”

You wondered if he would listen, they were supposed to be punishing you after all. He rolled his eyes, but nodded, pulling from your warmth slowly. You mewl as Vox pressed deeper inside you. When he started to withdraw, Alastor thrust back into you. The sensation was unlike anything else you had ever experienced before. Both of them working in time to fuck you. It wasn't long before they picked up a quick pace, supporting you between them. Your cries filled the air, mixing with the sound of your bodies meeting over and over. You tighten your grip around Alastor’s neck, burying your face against him as you pant. You were so close to your edge, your release within reach in a matter of moments.

“Fuck. So good for us,” Vox groaned, “is this what you wanted babydoll? Both of us?”

“Yes.” You moan, “Fuck, I want both of you. I’ve always wanted both of you!”

Alastor tightened his grip on your waist, his pace faltering slightly. “Lucky for you, my little doe, we love you enough not to punish you properly.”

Love. Did Alastor just say they loved you? Vox’s words fully clicked then.

“Fuck-” You curse, walls spamsing around them as your orgasm crashed over you.

The idea of both of them loving you, and loving you enough that this was the alternative to anything else, sent you over that edge.

“Yeah, just like that.” Vox groaned, his thrusts faltering as he got closer to his own release. “You’re taking us so well, so good.”

Alastor’s eyes flashed with mischievous intent. He quickened his thrusts, causing you to gasp out from the overstimulation. But his focus wasn’t on you for once.

“Cum for me, Vox.” He hissed out, never once faltering in his pace.

“Oh fuck you!” Vox groaned, thrusting into you a few more times before he met his end.

Alastor chuckled softly, lasting only a few more thrusts after Vox. He slammed as deep into you as he could go, hot ropes of cum hitting against your cervix. As Alastor stilled you were able to catch your breath as they held you. Vox pulled from your used cunt, taking a step back as Alastor lowered you down to your feet. He tucked his softening member away, watching Alastor pull from you a moment later. A mix of their seed and your release dripped from you as he did. Alastor released you only for your knees to give out from underneath you. Vox moved forward, effortlessly catching you and bringing you into a bridal carry.

“I got you babydoll. Need some rest after that, hmm?”

You nod, burying your face against Vox’s chest. He flashes Alastor a smug look causing the Radio Demon to roll his eyes for the umpteenth time that night.

“But after you wake up, little doe. We all have a lot to talk about.” Alastor reminds you. “Punishment aside.”

“I know.” You whisper, closing your eyes and allowing Vox to teleport you through the electricity and into his room.

You felt him place you on his bed, climbing in after you. A moment later the other side of the bed compressed as Alastor joined you. You felt oddly happy that they had found out about one another, this was an improvement.

[spitefulsatanfics]

《 ❝You break my heart, Kid.❞ 》ஓ๑♡๑

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Y/N (She/Her) — Supernatural

Tone: Grief, hurt/comfort, deep emotional intimacy, soft domestic moments, quiet healing, canon-level angst, found family, mutual vulnerability, protective!Dean, post-loss trauma, unspoken love as a tether to hope.

Rating: 18+ | TW: Grief and loss, vivid depictions of mourning, alcohol, emotional trauma, strong language, canonical character death 🛑 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🛑

Based On: Supernatural — Season 7, post-Episode 10 “Death’s Door” ⚠️ This show is rated 17+ and deals with dark and mature themes.

Synopsis: Bobby Singer left behind more than a legacy—he left behind a daughter. And grief doesn’t wait for monsters to disappear. While the Winchesters reel from the loss of their only father figure, Dean finds himself in unfamiliar territory: comforting the one person who loved Bobby as fiercely as he did. Through bottle caps, battered notebooks, and memories soaked in blood and whiskey, Dean and Y/N learn how to carry love’s weight, even when it threatens to bury them both.

By; 𝙻𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚕 ♥ — date written and published: June 6th, 2025™ (Request fill — thank you so much for the beautiful prompt.)

════════════════════════════════

Scene One: The House Without Him

The house is wrong.

It smells like coffee that’s gone cold in the pot. Like old leather and dust. Like everything she ever loved and everything that just left.

Y/N doesn’t drop her keys. Doesn’t speak. Just stares at the chipped threshold where Bobby once made her wipe her boots no matter how bad the hunt was. Now her boots are streaked with dried blood and Missouri mud, and no one tells her to clean them.

Dean is waiting just inside, backlit by amber hallway light, flannel hanging off his frame like it's suddenly too big for him. He opens his mouth, but the words rot before they reach his lips.

“Where is he?” she asks. It’s not a real question. Just a refusal to believe what she already knows.

Dean’s throat works as he swallows. His eyes are red, not from drink but from something heavier. Something primal. His voice, when it breaks the quiet, is ash and gravel.

“He’s gone.”

She makes a sound—half a breath, half a sob. Her legs buckle under grief’s first strike. But Dean’s there before she hits the floor, strong arms circling her like he’d built them just to hold her up. Her fists beat uselessly against his chest once, twice—then curl into the fabric of his coat like claws. She weeps in choking gasps, the kind that rip holes in the air, the kind that never end.

Dean lets her. Doesn’t tell her to be strong. Doesn’t tell her it’ll be okay.

Because it won’t. Not tonight.

Not ever in the way they both want.

═══════════════

Scene Two: Bottle Necks and Bones

Two nights later and they haven’t left the motel.

Y/N sits cross-legged on the second bed, still in yesterday’s shirt, staring at the wall like it’s holding secrets. The TV murmurs nonsense. A bottle of Jack sits between them like a fourth presence in the room, half-drunk, cap long gone.

“I keep thinkin’ he’s gonna call,” she says suddenly, voice like old sandpaper. “Tell me I forgot to lock the damn garage again. Or that I left the devil’s trap under the porch undone.”

Dean nods slowly. “I know.”

“He yelled at me the last time I saw him,” she whispers. “We argued about the damn plumbing. Can you believe that? The plumbing.”

“You think he didn’t know you loved him?”

Her jaw tightens. “What if I didn’t say it enough?”

Dean looks at her for a long moment, something unreadable moving behind his tired eyes.

“You did,” he says finally. “You said it in the way you took care of him. In the way you knew which books he liked dog-eared and which ones you never touched. You said it every time you cursed like him or made his chili recipe with too much cayenne just to mess with Sam.”

She almost smiles. Almost.

“You didn’t need to say it. He knew.”

═══════════════

Scene Three: Ghosts in the Study

It takes nearly two weeks for her to walk back into Bobby’s house.

Dean doesn’t push. He drives, his knuckles white on the wheel as she stares at the horizon, one hand in his.

The moment the front door groans open, the air shifts. Cold, stale, but still full of him. She steps through and it smells like memories—like gun oil and half-finished research. Like home.

Dean watches her closely. Not hovering. Just nearby.

In Bobby’s study, the desk is untouched. The leather chair still sits askew, a notebook abandoned mid-translation. A book on Norse rites is cracked open, his cracked glasses beside it.

Y/N steps closer, fingers tracing the well-worn edge of the desk.

Then she spots it.

A photo half-tucked under a stack of notes. She pulls it out—she and Bobby, summer of ‘06. Her face dirty with engine grease, Bobby giving the camera the finger. She remembers Dean behind the lens laughing so hard he nearly dropped it.

She presses the photo to her chest.

Dean’s voice behind her is a murmur. “He kept that on his desk for years.”

Y/N turns, unshed tears glossing her gaze. “He never told me.”

“He didn’t need to.”

═══════════════

Scene Four: The Journals

Later that night, she finds the box.

Old, wooden, claw-scratched and stained. Tucked under the bed like a coffin for memories.

Inside—journals. Dozens. Some dating back to the '80s. Yellowed pages, ink smudged with whiskey and time.

Dean crouches beside her, holding a lamp. “Didn’t know he kept this many.”

She lifts one labelled: Wendigo, Montana '93. A scribbled margin note reads: “Dumbass kids didn’t salt their campsite. Nearly got toasted.”

She laughs. Actually laughs.

Dean smiles. It’s a broken smile, crooked at the edges, but real.

They sit cross-legged on the floor, knees brushing. One by one, they flip pages. Case notes blend with grocery lists. A doodle of a squirrel named “Jim Beaver” is scrawled in a page margin next to a decapitation sketch.

Y/N wipes her eyes. “He was such a mess.”

Dean leans against her shoulder. “He was our mess.”

She turns to another journal. Inside the front cover is a note written in Bobby’s unmistakable scrawl:

To Y/N—You ain’t half bad, kid. Keep this mess runnin’ if I’m not around. And if Dean’s still being a pain in the ass, smack him one for me. Love you. You idjit.

She covers her mouth.

Dean’s hand slides into hers.

They sit there on the floor surrounded by ghosts and ink, and for once, the grief doesn't feel quite so sharp.

═══════════════

Scene Five: Not Alone

Outside, the sun is beginning to rise—light bleeding through the blinds like a quiet promise.

They haven’t slept.

Dean stands behind her in the study, arms wrapped around her waist, chin resting atop her head. She leans back into him, heavy but safe.

“You think he’s still around?” she asks, voice barely a breath.

Dean’s reply is steady. “Yeah. I think he’s in all of this. In you. In me. In every kid we save.”

Her eyes slip shut. “You promise you’ll stay?”

He presses a kiss to the curve of her neck, slow and reverent.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

And in the hollow wreckage of everything they lost, that one truth glows like an ember:

They’re not alone.

Not anymore.

═══════════════✓═══════════════

🕯️ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖔𝖆𝖉 𝖎𝖘𝖓’𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞—𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖎𝖋 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖞𝖔𝖚. 🕯️

[phenixa]

A FloRid Analysis using science (but only at the beginning)

I would like to preface that post by saying that I am not a biology -or scientific- expert at all. I am a humanities major -more specifically a foreign languages one- who just happen to have developped a huge hyperfixation on Twisted Wonderland, its story and characters. And it so happen that FloRid is my OTP. So, brainrot happened.

The hyperfixation and brainrot went so far that I started to hoard facts about octopodes and eels here and there, reading scientific papers written by biologist when the last time I had a science class was like... In first year of high school (en 2nde, pour mes amis francophones)

Okay, so. FloRid. Floyd and Riddle. One of the most appreciated ships in the twst community, being the 4th ship with the most fanfics on Ao3 (with 727 fanfics when I’m writing these words), just behind KaliJami, MalleYuu and RookVil (in this order). I saw a lot of people discussing these two with varying degrees of media literacy (I see you, who claims that this ship is “problematic” because it is a bully x victim ship.). And while I really like to read all of those takes (except the bully x victim one. You’re missing the point sweetie by saying that) and I wanted to add my two cents on that matter.

A while ago, back in September 2024, I stumbled on a twitter thread on FloRid. I can’t find it again, too far back, sorry for that. Basically, what the thread was about, was that Floyd’s interest in Riddle spawned in the fact that Riddle is red, and red doesn’t exist underwater.(see photos below)

It isn’t really that red doesn’t "exist" in aquatic environments, moreso that the wavelength for that colour is absorbed by the environment not that deep (around 6 metres underwater for those (like me) who use the metric system). Oh, by the way, if someone has an explanation of why the hot pink is still as vibrant that deep, I would love to hear that !

So basically, red starts to "disappear" around 6 metres deep, and is completely black around 24 metres deep. It is, let’s be honest, not that deep, especially when we compare to the depths of the ocean.

In fact, red "disappears" in what is called the epipelagic zone - or sunlight zone - the first level of the ocean (see photo below). Which is interesting since, in our world, all species of moray eels live in that zone. And, as it is well known, the Tweels are based on moray eels (possibly Green Moray Eels if we follow the colour scheme of their characters), so, in our world, they would live not that deep below the surface (at depths down to 40 metres (130ft)). Which isn’t true in the game, as it is mentioned multiple times that the Coral Sea is deep below the surface.

As we can see on the picture, the Sun won’t go deeper than 1,000 metres (3280ft) below the surface, and the Octatrio mentions once or twice that there’s no sunlight where they come from. On the wiki, we can read :

"It is said to be very dark and cold and has a smaller population than countries primarily inhabited by humans"

Twisted Wonderland wiki, World, Locations, Coral Sea

So, where am I heading with that ? Well, did you know that Moray eels can’t see colours ? Indeed, in a research done in 2011 by researchers of the Tawain Ocean Research Institute as well as the Sensory Biology Laboratory of the Academia Sinica in Taiwan, simply named "A comparative study on the visual adaptations of four species of moray eels" , the researchers have proven that the four species of moray eels studies are colourblind. They, in fact, can only perceive green and its shades/tints, meaning that, even if it was possible to perceive the colour red underwater, Floyd, in his eel form, wouldn’t be able to see it.

There is a technical side, one that shows that moray eels only have one type cone cells (cells present in our eyes to process colours) in their eyes, to explain this colour blindness (in comparison, human beings typically have three types of cone cells : red, green and blue). The only type of cone cells moray eels possess, as I mentioned earlier, is the green one. The closest example we, as humans, can have regarding this sort of colour blindness is the red-green colour blindness (here, "protanopia"), or the complete bolour blindness ("monochromatism")

(if you can’t see the difference at some point, I have some news for you...)

Basically, in the aquatic world, everyone has protanopia since red isn’t perceived, but moray eels are monochromastics since their eyes can only process greens. (Can I add that the colour palette for tritanopia is really pretty ?)

In the game, it is mentioned multiple times that Floyd couldn’t perceive red at all before coming on land. And the best example is the Stitch event (aka the FloRid event. There’s so much content on these two inside) where Floyd explicitly says that red looks black underwater.

"Colours look a lot different underwater. It only sticks out ‘cuz it’s on land. A red like this would look black in the deep sea where we’re from. You’d barely be able to tell it apart from a rock."

Twisted Wonderland, Stitch’s Tropical Turbulence chapter 3-2-3 "Sparkling in the Sand"

Here, Floyd only presents the fact that the wavelength for red is absorbed by its environment. He says nothing on the fact that he and Jade are supposedly completely colour blind (and just. Basically blind since moray eels are famously known for their shitty vision) before taking their potions. And we have seen time and time again that both twin’s vision and perception of colours on land is pretty good. Just the fact that Floyd can note how red Riddle is, as well as how he was able to see him in a crowd during their orientation (or just how he is able to see small details here and there), is a good indicator of that change between their life in the sea and their life on land. Would it have been funny, and really interesting to make the Tweels colourblind on land ? Yes. Yes it would have been amazing. But alas, I love my two chaos junkies the way they are and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Where did I want to go with that ? Well, if it wasn’t obvious already, I think that Floyd’s interest in Riddle spawns from the fact that Riddle represents something inherently new for Floyd.

When you think of the colour red in regards of twst, you would think of Riddle at some point. I mean, the guy is in the red dorm, his hair is red, he gets red from rage really easily (and the colour usually associated with rage is red), he’s based on the Queen of Hearts, the red queen... Oh and his element in his dorm Uniform card is fire. Red (even if we can completely debate over the fact that fire IRL tends to be more orange than red). That’s a lot of red for a 160cm tall guy, don’t you think ?

Oh, and Riddle was the first person to send Floyd flying, as highlited in Floyd’s Beans Camo vignette.

"Y’know, back at my orientation, a guy way tinier than me used magic to blast me through the air. All I did was razz him a little, and he just SNAPPED. His face was so red, it was almost like he was on fire"

"There weren’t many guys stronger than me under the sea. But here ? This school is crawling with people like that."

Twisted Wonderland, Floyd Beens Camo Vignette,"Nowhere Near the Best" Part.3

If it isn’t said outwradly that the "guy way tinier" than Floyd is Riddle, is it easily understandable from the whole Beanfest event, with Vil telling Epel that Riddle and Floyd had been at each other’s throat ever since their orientation (while adding that every orientation he lived had something disrupting it. What happened during your orientation Vil ? I want to know !), we can also undertsand that the guy was Riddle with Epel’s reaction, stating that "Vil wasn’t kidding about what he said before", referencing Vil’s words.

Oh, and, wan we talk just a second about the groovy of that card ?

In the vignette, this scene happens between the two quotes I used (the tiny guy sending Floyd flying and the fact that Floyd’s pretty strong). Let’s be true five seconds, trying to not look with a shipping lense through that.

WHO LOOKS LIKE THAT WHILE TELLING THAT KIND OF STORY ???

I mean, even while taking Floyd’s persona and character as a whole into account, that’s just the face someone makes when sharing a good memory with a loved one, or someone they’re proud of (my own twin makes that face when they talk about their -adopted- children).

And I even went to ask friends of mine about that face, without telling them the context just "okay, what do you think is happening right now ?" and (without taking into account that one friend who made a lousy joke) the majority of them just answered "he’s ogling his crush". And I mean. Yeah... Yeah that’s definetly the face someone would make when watching their crush. (after telling the whole context, the first answer I got was "Yeah no, he’s masochistic" and I can’t really go against that...). Most of those convo where in French and in between is littered more private convo so I won’t give you any screenshot of that, just know that my friends -some of which aren’t even in fandom spaces- are just as unanimous than I am. That eel is down bad.

On my first draft for that document, I spent a whole 10 paragraphs on their orientation, going as far as trying to explain that Floyd’s interest in Riddle wasn’t firstly based on his hair colour, nor really on his size, but on his strength. I won’t go as deeply into details as in my first draft, but let’s just be clear on that point.

It is said multiple times -as well as shown- that students are expected to wear their hoods during orientation. We see that during the prologue as well as during most Ceremonial Robes vignettes that takes place during (or diretcly after) orientation. For example in Epel’s vignette, we see him and Vil wearing their hoods up, and it is mentioned once or twice by the Savanaclaw guys that they have to keep their hoods up during orientation (which brings them a lot of problems, seeing that the hoods aren’t made for their ears). So, in no world would have Floyd seen Riddle’s hair colour before his altercation with Riddle. His interest first spawned because of Riddle’s magical strength. And the fact that our little guy became housewarden only one week after orientation cemented that interest. I mean, someone that strong ought to be interesting, no ?

Oh and, I won’t go into details here, since it’s not on NA server already, but during Floyd’s dream section, and from what I understand from a reddit post explaining the Octatrio dreams, Floyd starts to remember reality after Silver mentions what really happened during their orientation, with Riddle sending him flying. Ooooh I can’t wait to see that part on the eng server ! More info pleaaaase.

Another point of interest of mine is Floyd’s nicknames. They are based on people’s characteristics, whatever that characteristic may be. For that, Vil is Betta since betta fish are renowed for being beautiful, Ruggie is sharksucker since he’s (literally) sucking off of Leona. And Riddle is Goldfish(ie) (in the sense that officially Floyd calls Riddle "Goldfish" but everyone in the fandom ended up calling him "Goldfishie").

Some points on Goldfish here. First of all, despite their name in English, Goldfish in the modern world tend to be more red than gold-coloured (in French they are called "poisson rouge", literally "red fish" for that fact), but they also are an invasive species once released into the wild. Oh and they are mostly kept as pets by humans.

And, who was kept as a "pet" most of his life by someone, is famously red, and once he was "released" into the world acted somewhat invasive in the life of other people ?

At the time of giving Riddle his nickname, Floyd wouldn’t have known what was going on behind closed doors (or maybe he knew, with Jade fetching information on anyone and everyone for Azul, it’s a possibility) but I find that really funny that Riddle’s nickname suits him on more points than him being small and red (I’m putting once again the screenshot of Floyd saying that, but it’s the exact same one as the one I put at the very beginning of the analysis)

(to think that I took this screenshot a when I first started playing...)

I’d like to point out that this is the first -and only if I’m not mistaken- instance of Floyd explaining the reasoning behind one of his nicknames. While I saw him name other characters here and there (with this specific card, he names professor Trein at one point in his Home Taps) he never goes to length to explain the reasoning behind a nickname. And to be honest, the reason behind this screenshot was to go scream at my friends that he’s completely unpromted. Riddle just spawns in the conversation out of the blue. And, I mean, when you’re interested in someone/something, you usually find a way to include them/it into the conversation. Especially when you’re neurodivergent.

And we come to my next point : Floyd’s neurodivergence.

The boy has ADHD. Is it canon ? Well, it’s not said clearly but it is shown in some points. ShoujoISM made a really good video on that matter some time ago, and that video explains my own point of view on the subject really well, so I won’t go into that many details here. But, if you’re not really interested in watching a 52 minutes long video essay (which, let’s be honest, with the attention span of our generation, would be completely fair), I’ll try to summarise as fast as possiblie with just that sentence : Floyd checks most of the points of diagnosis for ADHD in the DSM-V-TR.

As a fellow ADHD-er with a huge hyperfixation on mental illnesses, I tend to have fun seeing if some characters check the boxes for some diagnosis I headcannon them to have. And, after watching that video, I opened my version of the DSM-V-TR (yes. I have a pdf of that book.) and checked myself every criteria for ADHD and... yeah, no, he fits into the boxes so well. And with the prevalence of neurodivergence in the cast (especially depressive characters), it wouldn’t be extrapolation to say that when Yana created Floyd, she had ADHD in mind.

One of the main points of ADHD is hyperfixation (aka, what is driving me to write fanfic and analyses of those characters) and hyperfocus. And Floyd is shown having periods of hyperfocus. Like that time he hyperfocused on learning how to dunk for 2 days straight. Azul even makes note of that in Floyd’s Tropical Wear vignette.

"My word... When you put your mind to something you want to do, your focus is incredible. I wish you could maintain that attidute when you’re on the clock"

Twisted Wonderland, Floyd Tropical Wear vignette, "Flying Jellyfish", Part.1

Usually, a period of hyperfocus can be a relatively "short" period of time, but it so happens that in people with ADHD, who usually struggle with this exact perception of time, hyperfocus periods can be counted as pretty long for neurotypicals, or neurodivergent people that don’t experience them. As someone who has lived through hyperfocus periods, time seems to just. Not exist, so for Floyd to spend two whole days trying to master a dunk just because it looked fun ; it doesn’t seem that long for me (as a personnal experience, I was once so engrossed and hyperfocused on a paper for uni that I spend more or less a whole week on that paper, skipping classes and everything else...)

And for me, Floyd has a sort of hyperfocus on Riddle. Not really in the sens that he can spend days thinking of him and do nothing else, but more on the sense that he can find the other in a crowd easily, and is just looking for Riddle really often. In Floyd’s School Uniform vignette, it is implied that Floyd looking for Riddle in the library is a common occurence, and it is shown multiple times in the game (in the main story as well as in events) that when confronted to a crowd, Floyd will find Riddle first. For example, in the scene at the beginning of Book 4 where everyone is in the Mirror Chamber, the whole Heartshackle gang is discussing, surrounded by literally the whole school, Floyd makes a beeline towards our group and the first person he talks to is Riddle. Same at the beginning of the Stitch event, when Floyd comes into the library and comes across our group, the first person he talks to is Riddle. Keyhole vision, this is what I call this.

And hyperfixation. You would mostly know what this is is you’re chronically online or in the mental illness side of social medias (especially tiktok). From what I experienced and what I saw with my ADHD friends, sometimes, hyperfocus is caused by a hyperfixation. And in the case of Floyd and his "I really want to learn how to dunk" mindset at that time, we can quite easily conclude that that state of hyperfocus was born from his hyperfixation at the time on basketball.

It is mentioned at some point in the game that Floyd’s interest is fleeting, meanning that even his hyperfixations don’t last that long (once again, from a neurotypical point of view). He kinda abandonned basketball at some point, still going to his club activities when he deems them to be interesting. But do you know what kind of activity he has deemed interesting for quite a while now ? Bothering Riddle. It has been a whole year (at the beginning of the game) since their first meeting, and this dopamine addicted eel is still looking for his Goldfishie. Because Goldfishie is interesting. Riddle keeps on being interesting to Floyd, the same way that Azul is. And, I mean, from what we can see when we see Azul and Riddle’s interactions with Floyd, they don’t seem to go out of their ways to entertain him, and act mostly "in character" for them (Azul being overly calculating and mumbling about the problems that Floyd causes and Riddle being quick to enrage). Yet, Floyd keeps finding things interesting with them. I mean, outside of Jade, Floyd stuck himself to Azul (and Riddle to some extent) the longest. So they must have something in them that makes them so interesting to him (I have a whole lot of rambling on Riddle and Azul since they’re my fav characters (along with the Tweels) so I get you Floyd. They’re really interesting).

And, in a way, Floyd seems to care on a deeper level only to the people he deems intereting (aka. Jade, Azul and Riddle). We can see his care for his brother in multiple ways, his care for Azul in Book 3 before Azul Overblots (really well depicted in the manga btw) and his care for Riddle is littered here and there.

First of all, begining of Book 4. Floyd (and the rest of the Octatrio) comes to meet us in the Mirror Chamber and... Proposes to Riddle to stay with him over the winter holiday ? My boy you’re really down bad you know that ?

Seriously, we can easily understand that Floyd realised that Riddle was hesitant to go back to his mother for the break, and his first reaction is not "well, you can always count on your friends, and go to them" (Trey even proposed !). No. His first reaction was like, welp, you can always stay with me. The way the chapters are made, Book 4 chapter 3 ends with Floyd’s interjection.

"What’sa matter Goldfishie ? Don’t wanna go home ? Then, there’s an idea : don’t. We’re not. C’mon, you can join us in the stay-at-school club. Heh heh !"

Twisted Wonderland, Book 4 "Schemer of the Scalding Sands", Chapter 4 "A Sendoff from Morays"

It’s literally the first two dialogues of the chapter. I didn’t go further, but Riddle gets irked by Floyd sticking his nose in his business and Jade chimes in to temperate things between the two. Floyd then retorts something quite interesting for me  :

"Aw, c’mon Jade. It’s boring spending every new year with the same old suspects. Besides, Goldfishie’s so teeny, I’m sure Azul would love to keep him as a pet !"

Twisted Wonderland, Book 4 "Schemer of the Scalding Sands", Chapter 4 "A Sendoff from Morays"

Riddle answers by becoming all red from rage and is really close to trying to collar Floyd. The rage is defused by Trey and the rest of Heartslabyul, but I’d like to point something quite interesting. In the end of chapter 3 (after having discussed with the Savanaclaw trio), Riddle is shown to be out of the loop, Ace and Grim making remarks on that note :

"Huh, he’s soundin’ kinda defeated."

"Oh, right. The housewarden’s got an extreme case of helicopter parenting waiting for him at home. No wonder he’s not enthused about heading back."

Twisted Wonderland, Book 4 "Schemer of the Scalding Sands", Chapter 3 "Leaving for the Holidays"

We can more or less see the Heartshackle gang trying to cheer up their friend, but nothing seems to work. Until Floyd appears, makes a beeline for the redhead and angers him. And I mean, a reaction, even as "bad" as that one is still a better outcome than whatever he was feeling before. Even Trey notices it.

"Good grief. Well, at least he’s got his moxie back."

Twisted Wonderland, Book 4 "Schemer of the Scalding Sands", Chapter 4 "A Sendoff from Morays"

It is quite easy to see, with minimum media literacy at play, that what Floyd was doing was trying to ellicit a reaction -any reaction- from Riddle, in a convoluted way of, not cheering him up per say, but making him concentrate on something else, something that is not what hell would be waiting for him at his house. And he succeded. Any punishment he would have possibly faced hadn’t Riddle been stopped by Trey and Cater would have been fair game in his book (and he would have defused the spell either way).

I’m probably over analysing that but I can’t remember a moment in the whole game (in the parts I played at least) where Floyd is shown caring that much for someone. I mean, his words are the literal reason why Azul overblotted (I’m pretty sure that if Floyd hadn’t say what he said to Azul at that time, the overblot would have happened, yes, but a bit later if not at all). Floyd is the exact definition of not really caring outwardly for people ! But here, he is shown caring -in some convoluted ways once again- for Riddle who is clearly distressed about going back to his mother. And I found that the jab of keeping Riddle as a pet is somewhat sarcasticly funny. I mean, Riddle’s mother is treating her son like a doll, or a pet to train and show off. It shows, in some ways, that Floyd is aware of what happens in Riddle home life at that point in the story. Was it through rumors after his overblot, or did he piece the puzzle himself after havig seen Riddle’s reaction to going back to his mother’s during their first year ? We will probably never know.

What I also want to say by that, is that Floyd is deeply intelligent. Not just academically, but emotionally too. He’s probably the most emotionally intelligent guy in the whole cast, contrary to what he lets on (reminds me of Perceval in Kaamelott in some ways). He also possesses a really good sense of ebservation. Once again, in his Beans Camo vignette, he realises that if he lets Epel grow freely, the little guy might become a worthy opponent.

"I was gonna let him get a little roughed up to remind him who's boss, but hey. If I let Guppy keep swimmin', he might grow into a meal worth eating one day. I'll lay off him for now. After all, it'll be way more fun to crush him when he's strong and all sure of himself. Aha ha."

Twisted Wonderland, Floyd Beens Camo Vignette,"Nowhere Near the Best" Part.3

And I’m not sure if, at the time of the vignette happening, Epel has developped his unique magic. It’s possible, but not of good use since the use of magic is prohibited during Beanfest.

Anyway, his ability of perception (which I find quite funny since eels are famously known for having shitty vision) is also highlighted in my previous point. He realised, on his own, that Riddle wasn’t doing quite alright. No one told him "hey, your favourite ‘victim’ isn’t doing well", he just went to make sure that Riddle as okay on his own volition. And it’s not the first time something like that happens. Indeed, in the first halloween event, at the end of it, we can see Floyd caring for both Jade and Riddle. He forces the first one to stop working and sit down for a while, and he pushes the other to eat more. Here, it’s Floyd’s reaction towards Riddle that interests me, not because that post isn’t on Jade and Floyd, but more because it is prompted before Floyd’s entrance in the scene that Jade has been working a lot, while it’s never mentioned once before that Riddle hasn’t eaten enough.

"Psh. Teapot tyrant, meet kettle. You haven't had more than a couple'a nibbles yourself, Goldfishie. Even a real goldfish eats more than that. Aren't you a growing boy?"

"I'll have you know I consume my recommended caloric intake every day, without any excess or deficiency!"

Twisted Wonderland, "Twisted Halloween : Terror is Trending", chapter 5-7

A bit farther, at the very end of the same chapter, Floyd grabs Riddle and brings him to the buffet,       forcing him to eat.

"You got it! C'mon, Goldfishie!"

"I told you, Floyd— Would you stop tugging?! Argh!"

Twisted Wonderland, "Twisted Halloween : Terror is Trending", chapter 5-7

It is easy to understand that Floyd is used to Eating Disorders, especially considering he is friends with Azul, who is the reference in EDs in the cast (I mean, just see his backstory and read through Book 3 and you’ll have the big picture). Riddle’s ED isn’t the same as Azul’s, in the sense that it isn’t self inflicted, but ingrained in him. And for the sceptics, EDs aren’t just anorexia or bulimia. The fact that Riddle counts his calories and takes notes of every intake of food is very much a symptom of an eating disorder (this is another proof of Madam Rosehearts’ abuse on her son btw). And what does Floyd do ? he takes care of bringing Riddle with him to the buffet. Especially after seeing the reaction the boy had when cake was mentioned. Again, no one mentioned Riddle before Floyd intevened, only after that did Ruggie make a comment on that fact. (I also would like to point the change made to the idiom "pot, meet kettle" here. It’s funny as hell and shows a form of intelligence, because, being able to modify an idiom to one’s whims asks for a deep undertsanding of a language and its codes).

It was the last bit of trivia I had to analyse for the time being. At the time when I write these words, we only have 116 chapter of Book 7, so we haven’t encountered the dreams of the Octatrio yet, and even if I keep myself updated on what happens on the jp server I am not aware of everything that happens in details (I can’t read japanese for the life of me so I won’t play on jp server at all).

I realise that I have gone away from my first point of trying to analyse Floyd’s interest in Riddle using only biology and ended up doing a full-on analysis of FloRid moments... Oops...

So, let’s conclude once and for all that lit- *checks the word count* that analysis, shall we ?

While I think that Floyd’s interest in Riddle first spawned during their orientation (and his dream sequence gives us a hint on that matter), I think that Floyd’s continually renewed in Riddle isn’t just some sort of simple interest, but some form of infatuation. I mean. The anthology manga is there for a reason (even if its canonicity is debatable). We can see in various examples that Floyd cares for Riddle to some extent, the same way he cares for Azul (or Jade, but it’s not really the same form of care), and that his neurodivergence makes him hyperfixate on Riddle for some reason or another. I didn’t delve into my "theory" that Floyd might have some form of Bipolar Disorder because it hasn’t as much proof that it is here than the ADHD theory/headcanon, and it’s more a headcanon of mine than a fully fledged theory I have. Either way, it is clear that our moody eel is deeply attached to the teapot tyrant, and I think I was quite clear on that matter.

Now, and before I save this document and post it, I would like to talk about something. The "bully x victim" trope that opposants to the ship see. While I can understand the idea, I think it is not taking into account the numerous events where Floyd and Riddle are together. Sure, in the main story it is easily seen that Floyd has a favourite "victim" to his overly excitable moods, but a bully x victim would imply that Riddle isn’t able of defending himself. And he is. He just lets Floyd act that way because, whatever he will do, nothing would deter the eel. He is literally the guy that sent Floyd flying on their first day, for Samael’s sake ! And, I mean, Beanfest and the Stitch event do tell us a different story than "Riddle is a damsel in distress, victim to the whims of evil evil Floyd". Even in the halloween events  we can see that they -at least- tolerate each other. But, I get it, when the game fist came out in english (because I see that discourse more on western fandom spaces (thank you to my friend who acts like a translator for me to scroll through the jp side of the fandom)), people didn’t have any access to the second Beanfest event, even less to the Stitch event, and were only privy to Floyd’s School Uniform vignette and their interaction in Book 2. But right now, with everything we have for us, I think that this argument is just plain media illiteracy. You can say that I’m over analysing Beanfest, sure. But don’t come at me for things that are clearly said in the game (like the Stitch event or Halloween events). And please, by Demon’s law, let people enjoy their silly ships however they like. I’m not coming at you for liking a ship I don’t have a particular affinty to, to come at me and call me deranged for shipping what is just basically a Red and Blue ship.

Oh, and, last point before I close that document. At one point, Jade says something that stuck with me.

"Heh... As long as you’re enjoying yourself, Floyd."

Twisted Wonderland, Floyd Halloween Vignette, "A Big Fan of Pirates"

And we see Floyd having fun in most of his vignettes. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what this is. (Yes, it has nothing to do with FloRid, but I wanted to put this here since I love the Tweels and their bond.)

Welp. This is the end of that analysis. Thank you for reading all of that, it’s more than 5k words, and I did most of that at work. I have a lot of things to say about the Octatrio and Riddle (as people who follow me on my private instagram has been victims to. I literally yapped about twst for 3h30...) as well as on other characters.

If you’re interested in reading what I write, here is my Ao3 link : https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phenixa. At the time I’m writing these words there is only two twst fanfics (being FloRid) and a small dozen of Kingdom Hearts fanfics, but more twst is coming in the future. I’m currently working on a college!AU if you’re interested ^^

I finished vomiting my analysis, it is time to say bye !

[percheduphere]

LET'S TALK ABOUT "HE'LL MAKE IT BACK"

Special thank you to @mmobiuses, @starrose17, and @stevenrogered whose gifs make-up the lion's share of this post. Thank you to all the other amazing gif artists as well, without you, my metas won't be possible.

This might come as a surprise to a lot of people, but I actually wasn't big on Lokius until Season 2. I thought Loki and Mobius made a cute ship in Season 1, but that was the extent of it. In truth, I lost interest in the Loki series by the S1 finale and had 0 interest in watching S2. I didn't give the series another try until I saw positive reviews on Tumblr. I therefore started watching S2 when S2E4 dropped.

LOKI SEASON 1

Enjoying the potential love story between two characters is a deeply personal and subjective experience. So take what I say as my personal experience observing Loki and Mobius's relationship.

I fully believed Mobius loved Loki in S1 in the platonic sense. Tom Hiddleston has given a few interviews on Loki's and Mobius's relationship and seems to believe in this sentiment as well [see 5:30-7:30 and 10:57-11:00]).

That is to say, in S1, I didn't feel, "Oh, my god ... he loves him." It was more, "Yes, he loves him", there is no question, his actions prove it.

There is wiggle-room for unrequited love in the S1E4 interrogation scene, but the jealousy Mobius exhibited could have just as easily been a combination of anger on behalf of his murdered colleagues and platonic jealousy.

However, I felt the first hint of unrequited love from Mobius occurred during his goodbye scene with Loki in S1E5. Specifically, this look:

I had no expectations for that look to pay off in any way. Season 2 surprised me.

LOKI SEASON 2

S2E1 is amazing episode because, through subtext, it reframes how Mobius's S1 emotions may be interpreted with stronger evidence for romantic motivation. In this episode, there appears to be a subtle, gradual build-up to the moment that Mobius's love for Loki may be viewed as fully romantic. Let's break down the episode and look at the progression:

First, learning that Loki is at the TVA: *sigh* I can't find the "Loki's here?" gif.

Second, and perhaps the most infamous, the reunion and whole-body support Mobius provides Loki in the TVA War Room (physical comfort):

Third, Mobius bringing Loki somewhere safe and quiet, assuring him that "it's okay" (emotional comfort):

Fourth, Mobius insisting that Loki's condition must be fixed, not once but twice, in two different scenes. A third (writer's magic 3s!) instance occurs in the Heart of the TVA, just before the gangway scene (prioritizing the other):

Fifth, Mobius's admission that Loki's timeslipping looks horrible, and he can't look at it anymore. He repeatedly stresses to Loki how serious this is (emotional and physical empathy):

Sixth, Mobius taking Loki to exact right person who can help. This is particularly significant, because Mobius is the only person in MCU canon who has verbally expressed concern for Loki's physical well-being and took immediate action to stop the pain (act of service):

Seventh, the third time Mobius prioritizes Loki's wellbeing. He scolds Loki and reminds him they have only one shot at getting his timeslipping corrected before the temporal radiation becomes too high (prioritizing the other):

Eighth, Mobius interrupting Loki, insisting that he will make it back. The subtext here is that no other outcome is acceptable or thinkable for Mobius (emotional comfort):

Finally, Ninth, the clincher: "He'll make it back." (self-comfort)

This scene is everything to me. Moments 1 through 8 build-up to this singular moment. Let's do a micro-analysis on it.

After Loki timeslips, the camera stays on Mobius. It tracks him as he kneels down to pick-up the time sick, the last thing Loki touched. The camera then pans up as Mobius rises.

@stevenrogered, THANK YOU for this gifset. It's literally the only one I could find that captures the camera tracking Mobius after Loki disappears, and this is my all-time favorite Mobius scene.

Mobius stands for a moment, motionless, and the camera holds on his facial expression. He's staring at where Loki WAS for extended period of time (keep this in mind for later). He's holding his breath. He's worried, scared, and hopeful, not for himself and the danger he faces on the gangway, but for Loki.

Finally, he exhales as he says to himself, "He'll make it back".

This entire sequence--particularly the moment when Mobius picks-up the time stick and holds it in silence--made me feel, "Oh ... Oh ... he loves him."

The camera stays with Mobius, capturing his reaction to this high-stakes situation for a significant amount of time (@loki-us, maybe you can get this timed starting from the moment Loki disappears and Mobius starts to kneel to pick-up the time stick?). Cinematographers don't do this type of hold unless they want to illicit a strong emotion from the audience regarding the character we are focusing on in the moment.

My insides swooped, which rarely ever happens when I view film or television.

And this camera hold, this pregnant pause, is mirrored by Loki's stare in S2E5:

[airenyah]

A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 4

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep5 | Ep6 | Ep7 | Ep8 | Ep9 | Ep10 | Ep11 | Ep12)

Hiii, I'm back at it again <3

I'm not gonna write a proper introduction this time around. You know the drill. Enjoy!

(And if you're new here, feel free to check out my posts on the other episodes linked above first.)

Pronoun situation: In my first meta post I kept up with their pronoun use on a scene by scene basis. Just like in ep3, I won't do that in ep4 either because Fadel and Style consistently use the rude guu/mueng pronouns for each other throughout the entire episode without any significant pronoun changes.

To recap: Last time we saw Style, he had just been left lying on the cold hard ground with a punch to the gut after having hooked up with Fadel in a random storage room. Just like at the end of ep2, at the end of ep3 they did not part on the best of terms either.

No. 1: Blissful Dreams

Even though the hook-up ended rather painfully for Style, and even though the hook-up itself may not have been quite what Style dreamed of, it's still left quite a mark on him. So much so, that he even dreams about it that night. So much so, that this dream even affects him in real life the next morning.

"Crap," Style swears. This wasn't the plan. Style may have a bit of a problem now. And over the course of this episode we'll find out just how much of a problem Style actually has now, because the dream hasn't only affected him physically, but the reality that inspired the dream has also affected him emotionally.

No. 2: Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

The majority of the interactions Style has had with Fadel so far have ended with Fadel either forcing Style to leave (even to the point of physically dragging him away) or with Fadel abandoning Style. Even if from Style's perspective it may not seem like his actions have much of a positive effect on Fadel, I think deep down he does sense that he's managing to worm his way into Fadel's life after all. In any case, Style is not giving up no matter how many times Fadel will ditch him. However, since none of the strategies he's tried so far have seemed to really bear fruit, he now changes course again: disappear for a bit, so that he'll miss you. This strategy works exceptionally well, but Style won't know about it until about two thirds into the episode.

No. 3: Blue-Balled

Despite his resolution to stay away from Fadel to make him miss him, Style fails to hold out for long and is back rather sooner than later. As @secriden points out, Style "comes running to Fadel the second he hears about Fadel asking about him" (quoted from @secriden). Style even explicitly says that he hadn't planned on stopping by, but then "some auntie told me someone asked about me". Style has tried out a new strategy that he hasn't gone with before, learned that it actually did have some sort of affect on Fadel, and immediately rushes to confirm this for himself. Within the first 30 seconds (20 seconds, to be exact!) of Style entering the kitchen he asks Fadel twice if Fadel has missed him. It's literally the second and the fifth sentence out of his mouth when he shows up. This is important info to Style, he needs to know if Fadel has missed him and he needs to know immediately. Style has already started to develop positive feelings towards Fadel over the course of episode 3 and their little storage room fling has influenced that development even more. Style needs to know if Fadel feels the same way. In fact, he downright assumes that Fadel feels the same way: it's in the way he is so satisfied and smug when he walks through the door. Style is very happy about this.

Fadel, however, shoots him down. Style's smile fades, but I don't think it's necessarily because he's hurt or disappointed or wasn't expecting this reaction. No, Fadel has reacted like this to about 90% of the things Style has said to him the entire time they've known each other. Style backs up a bit, but the way he looks at Fadel seems curious, like he's searching for something, like there is a question on his mind. Why does he STILL keep insisting like this, why does he STILL go for rejection when evidence points to the opposite?

Reminder: Last time the two of them saw each other, Style was way out of line and Fadel ended up punching him. Style was also quite upset that Fadel would sleep with him and immediately ditch him. In their last meeting, they didn't part on the best of terms.

So Fadel claims he didn't miss Style (despite evidence saying otherwise) and that Style annoys him because he messes up Fadel's routine and Style thinks about it for a moment, contemplates what Fadel's problem could be with him this time that could make him act like that and then comes to a conclusion as to what it might be:

He lets Fadel know that he's not angry at him for what happened the night before. When Style says "I was asking for it", I'm not entirely convinced he's referring to his unserious behavior at the group meeting. I'm not sure he's actually realized that his behavior was disrespectful. After all, he was "rewarded" with sex for it. Plus, the next thing he says is: "[I]t doesn’t matter how scary you are". I think this refers to their confrontation and verbal exchange right around Fadel punching Style. I already touched on Style not being scared of Fadel in my ep 3 meta:

Fadel threatens to punch Style if he doesn't move but Style refuses to stand down even though he knows very well from personally witnessing it that Fadel is perfectly capable of punching him if he wished to. Despite that, Style is not scared of Fadel. [...] When Style says "You like me" I don't think he necessarily means it in the sense of you're in love with me or you're crushing on me. I think he [...] is making it very clear just how confident he is about Fadel not hurting him. [...] It's a counterattack to Fadel's threat.

(Bolded for emphasis)

Style was very fearless the night before, which is why I think when Style says "I was asking for it" he's referring specifically to how Fadel was threatening him and how Style put up a fight in response. He "was asking for it", because he didn't move out of Fadel's way despite Fadel making it very clear what the consequences of Style's stubbornness would be. Fadel got scary in their last meeting, and now Style tells him "[I]t doesn’t matter how scary you are, I’m hooked". While in episode 3 the "I'm not scared of you" was implicit in his actions, Style now tells him explicitly in words.

If you've read my episode 3 meta, you'll know that a running theme throughout the entire post ended up being the question of whether Style really meant all the things he said (esp the flirty things) or if it was all just empty words. Here in the kitchen? Style means every single word, every flirty sentence that he utters. In episode 3, when he bugs Fadel at the running track or when he tells Fadel that he likes and wants him right before they hook up at the end of the episode, there is such an air of loudness to his demeanor. In contrast, when Style tells Fadel "I'm hooked" and asks him what he has to do to win him over, there is much more tranquility to it. Even his voice is calmer, there is no trace of his usual dramatic flair. Style is much more grounded here compared to some of his flirting (attempts) in previous episodes.

Style is being serious when he says "[I]t doesn’t matter how scary you are, I’m hooked", he really means it. But Fadel only looks at him for a moment, squints his eyes briefly, and wordlessly directs his focus back on his herbs, signaling to Style Yeah sure whatever, I don't care, you're a burden and an inconvenience to me. This is yet another very predictable reaction and Style isn't surprised by it, but he's definitely a little annoyed now that he's still not getting through to Fadel, that Fadel still won't admit that he does want Style around and has started taking a liking to him. So Style leans closer to Fadel again and asks what it will take for Style to win him over. Again, Style is being serious about it, his usual over the top flair is missing. He isn't doing this for show, he's not playing anything up because someone else asked him to or because he'll gain something out of it. Style is asking because he genuinely wants to know for no one but himself. Style genuinely cares now.

But Fadel tells Style to fuck off. Not literally, of course (his actual words are "Get out of my face"), but "fuck off" is certainly the subtext of it. And that subtext reaches Style clear as day. Instead of following Fadel's order, he's gonna be a little shit about it now.

"Fuck", you say? Gladly. Malicious compliance with the subtext. Style walks around the table. "I know a guy like you just needs a little nudge."

Again, this time around I do think Style means all the flirty shit that he says. It's in the way his tone is much more calm and quiet and how everything he says is much more deliberate, much more calculated. It's a similar vibe to that time in the gym when he told Fadel to call him any time if he needed a spotter, which, if you've read my first meta post of this series, is a scene you'll know I've determined to be the first time Style genuinely flirts with Fadel for the purpose of flirting and not for any other motivations such as revenge. And now here in the kitchen he's also flirting for the purpose of flirting again. His words aren't just empty words.

Another way we can tell that Style genuinely wants to get into Fadel's pants right there and then is by the way he gets handsy. In episode 3 he doesn't really touch Fadel when he spouts all the sexual innuendos at him at the running track. The only time Style touches him in that scene is when he squeezes Fadel's man boob in order to emphasize the word "heart". Or in the storage room, even though he claims to want Fadel, Style doesn't touch Fadel either during that entire conversation before they get it going. In fact, the only time he touches Fadel before Fadel starts kissing him is to remove Fadel's hand from him. In contrast, the sauna scene in episode 2 showed us that when Style actually, genuinely wants to sleep with Fadel, he'll start touching Fadel in suggestive places, will even go as far as shamelessly stick his hands down Fadel's pants (or, uh, towel in that case). And even though he didn't exactly get handsy with Fadel at the work-out bench, despite my claims of this interaction being the very first time he genuinely flirts with Fadel, well... Style may have not been handsy, but he sure got kneely:

In the kitchen in episode 4 every flirty thing Style says is an attempt at getting into Fadel's pants again (Oh, how very much the storage room fling has left its mark on Style!). Style genuinely wants this, genuinely wants him. Every single one of Style's actions underlines that as well. And then Fadel actually maneuvers him onto the kitchen table. Style is elated.

At this point I want to once again take a little detour to @clemelntine's meta on each of the boys' sexual fantasies of one other and what that means for the storage room hook-up. If you remember, she writes:

No matter how much he annoys Fadel in the day to day and how much he seems to take the upperhand in those interactions, when it comes to sex he likes in the idea of letting Fadel do what he does/wants.

Not only do we see this play out in the storage room in the way Style gladly gives Fadel full control over his body, but we see this pattern continue in the kitchen. Style is very proactive in showing just how much he wants to get into Fadel's pants but the moment Fadel seemingly folds and goes along with it, Style lets Fadel put him on the kitchen table with no resistance whatsoever and eagerly awaits whatever Fadel has in store for him this time, letting Fadel have full control over the situation and his body again.

Whenever Fadel has blocked or rejected or ignored Style in this scene so far, it has not come as a surprise to Style a single time. This is what Fadel does. Style is used to it. It might annoy or disgruntle him at times, but overall he is used to it. But when Fadel drops "You won’t ever get what you want" and leaves him hanging? This time around it hits Style completely out of left field. Style was so caught up in his euphoria, that he didn't see this coming at all (unlike me, the audience, who was just sitting there going "ohh shit oh damn this is gonna be another fake-out" the moment Fadel grabbed Style's waist and turned him towards the table dfjkdf). After all, Fadel did sleep with him the night before, and so Style probably completely forgot that Fadel could dump him at any moment. In fact, he was probably confident that Fadel sleeping with him the night before and now asking about him at the market when Style failed to show up were signs that Fadel had started to develop feelings for him as well. And if Fadel has feelings for him now, then he would likely also want this, so why would Fadel ditch him? But Fadel does. Style is angry and he's hurt and he's disappointed, but Fadel's rejection hits him so much out of nowhere that I think he actually takes a while to process what has just happened and how to feel about it and how to react. Usually in situations like this, Style will put up a fight with Fadel until one of them wins, but this time around he is so stupefied that he immediately moves towards the door when Fadel shoves him towards it without firmly standing his ground and fighting Fadel about it first. Style does yell at Fadel that he won't let Fadel ditch him and when Fadel comes at him again, just for a short moment Style is about to stand his ground, but then Style shoves him away and leaves the kitchen angrily, instead of fighting him.

While I do think Style is hurt by Fadel's actions, I think anger and shock are his leading emotions here as he storms off. I think the hurt only really properly starts coming out and taking over once Style's shock has worn off and he's processed the situation.

No. 4: OnlyFans

The immediate shock of the situation has now worn off, Style has had a little time to process and now he's ready to fight again. There is still so much anger in Style, but now we can also see just how hurt he actually is. This is even more evident when we go back to episodes 1 and 2 where we've seen this whole thing play out before: Fadel humiliates Style in private and Style retaliates by humiliating Fadel in public. Fadel drags Style out of the diner by his feet in the privacy of the closed restaurant. Style yells at him in front of everyone at a busy market place in return. Fadel leaves Style hanging in the privacy of the diner kitchen whose only staff is Fadel himself. Style yells at him in front of every customer at the restaurant in return.

When Fadel drags Style out of the restaurant in episode 1, Style is of course angry and humiliated. And sure, it did hurt his pride, but it's mostly just that. Fadel, at this point, is mostly just some weird, grumpy dude to him that he has now been hired to hit on. Back then Style wasn't expecting that fake-out either, but it doesn't leave him as stunned as it did this time in the kitchen. In episode 1, he even tries to fight Fadel. He can't do much while he's being pulled along the floor, but as soon as Style is back on his feet he immediately starts raging at the door, pulling at the handles and banging at it. In the kitchen, Style is too stunned to put up a fight and actively runs away instead of fighting Fadel.

When Style yells at Fadel in the market place, while it comes from a place of revenge it's still something he does for show. His words are loud and dramatic and they're for everyone around them to hear more than they are for Fadel himself. It's all a public performance to Style. And the audience is everyone at the market. It's about making everyone see how "bad" of a guy Fadel is and it doesn't really matter whether Fadel is listening to his words or not as long as his words reach his true audience and they believe him. Style is clearly having fun yelling at Fadel while also using the chance to blow off some steam from his previous annoyances with Fadel. When Fadel yields, Style immediately lets it go and chills again.

When Style yells at Fadel at the diner, he's once again causing a scene in public, but this time his words are for Fadel to hear, not for the strangers around them. The fact that there's strangers around them is just a welcome bonus and I think in that moment Style doesn't even really care if any of them are actually listening in or not, as long as his words reach Fadel. Style's voice is sharp as a knife, sharper than we've ever heard it before, and every sentence he utters is a stab at Fadel. When Fadel hands him the apron and tells him to leave, Style agrees, but he speaks out a warning first ("But just keep in mind: Nobody gets to nail and bail me."). His fighting spirit has come back, and when Fadel launches a counterattack ("I’ll be the first"), Style does not back down this time around like he did earlier in the kitchen. It's Fadel who walks away this time and Style reminds him that he'll continue to fight him ("A guy like Style won’t back down"). It's only when he walks out of the restaurant that he turns his argument with Fadel into an actual public performance. It's only when he invites everyone at the restaurant to take pictures of him that his words are for show and for his audience to hear.

We've just watched a situation that we've seen before play out but this time around it's very different. Because this time around Fadel actually means something to Style. And this time around Style has already slept with Fadel, which also meant something to him. I'm not entirely sure Style has quite figured out what exactly it all means to him and I also don't think he's head over heels in love with Fadel yet, but he sure is starting to have many emotions. While Style was also enraged back in episode 1 after Fadel dragged him out of the diner, his anger has leveled up now because this time around, underneath all of that anger, Style is also very hurt. They were starting to make progress and Style even got to celebrate small victories along the way (Fadel making him a burger, Fadel actually sleeping with him, Fadel asking about his whereabouts). Style was starting to get somewhere with Fadel, was slowly starting to develop some feelings of his own for Fadel, and Fadel just goes and kicks down Style's sandcastle. What's more, Style has made it very clear to Fadel how he feels about getting nailed and bailed, and then Fadel just goes and does it on purpose.

Style is so angry and hurt that this time around just one public yelling isn't enough. This time he goes for a round 2.

No. 5: A Ruined Man

Style is back at the support group. This time it's not to find out more about Fadel's backstory, this time he is here because he has a message for Fadel. And this time Style's distress isn't cringe, because this time the situation is serious to him. He is seriously angry, and he is seriously hurt, and it's important to him that Fadel is fully aware of it, aware of what he's done to Style.

"When you like someone, and they only think of you as a toy, something they can break, they don’t even know how deep they have cut you."

Oh, Style. I hope you don't end up eating your own words later when Fadel finds out why exactly you were hitting on him and trying to get him to fall for you in the first place.

No. 6: Are These Systoms of Being Pregarnt?

This time Fadel is so done with Style that he drags him away in front of everyone else instead of waiting until no one is around. And Style is finally able to have somewhat of a civil conversation with Fadel again. While he is still angry at Fadel since they still haven't cleared up their quarrel, he is no longer outright yelling at him or attacking Fadel with his words like he was at the diner or in the group meeting just now. The tone of his voice is softer and also his dramatic flair is back when he goes on and on about how he might as well be pregnant. And we also learn what exactly it is that Style wants from Fadel: "You slept with me, so take responsibility for it."

I've already talked at length about why I think Style isn't one for casual, no strings attached one-night stands in my ep3 meta, and Style's words here highlight this once again. The storage room sex mattered to Style. And I don't think it mattered to him because it was a step closer to fulfilling the mission he's been sent on and a step closer to getting the car of his dreams.

If you read my ep3 meta, you'll know that I mention a couple of times that Style is developing "positive feelings" for Fadel. Phrasing it like this rather than phrasing it as "romantic feelings" or "starting to like" was a very deliberate decision. Because I don't think Style was quite there yet in episode 3. He still had many other ulterior motivations and intentions going on, be it Kant's "hit on Fadel so I can get to Bison" mission that Style gets a car out of or Style being nosy about Fadel's lore. If you remember, at the beginning of this meta when Style woke up with a boner I said Style may have a bit of a problem now. The problem is his own feelings – this whole episode hasn't been about Kant's mission or the car anymore (or about Style finding out Fadel's backstory). Instead, this whole episode we've been exploring Style's real feelings, his own desires. Style has started to care when it comes to Fadel, has started to genuinely want him. Style is starting to genuinely like Fadel now. He even lets it slip during the support group meeting:

"When you like someone, and they only think of you as a toy, something they can break, they don’t even know how deep they have cut you."

And yes, one could argue that he's been saying he likes Fadel ever since Kant set him on Fadel and that Style, in fact, has said he likes Fadel many, many times before, so this is nothing out of the ordinary. But I think this time it is in fact different. I think this time he means it. Because if it was just a lie, if those were just empty words, then Fadel dumping him in the kitchen wouldn't have hurt so much. And at this point, I think Style's hurt isn't only about being dumped in the kitchen but also about being ditched in the storage room. Style may have said he won't hold what happened back then against Fadel, but maybe deep down he does. Because the storage room sex mattered to him and at this point of the episode maybe it matters to him even more so than at the beginning of the episode or at the end of episode 3. Not to mentioned, he really doesn't like getting nailed and bailed. You slept with me, so take responsibility for it.

No. 7: I Hate the Way I Don't Hate You. Not Even a Little Bit. Not Even at All.

"You're not killing me or anything like that, right?" Style says as they're walking out of their last scene and Fadel promptly takes him out to the woods into an abandoned greenhouse. They still haven't cleared anything up between the two of them and Style is still kinda angry, which is why I think that when he says "Are we doing it outdoors? Your taste sure surprises me" he says it mostly to piss Fadel off, not because he wants to flirt or actually do it with him in that moment (oh but just you wait another few minutes 🤭🤭🤭).

Fadel once again just wordlessly walks away from Style. Instead of following him, Style stays back at the car, kinda annoyed. We don't know how long exactly Style was waiting, but either way, I think he does lowkey start to get freaked out a little. He wants to go home and starts looking for Fadel.

"I know you’re gonna kill me and hide my body in the woods." Oh Style, sweetie, no. Careful with your words. Apollo's ball of prophecy and all that. Right after that, we get yet another reference to Style not being scared of Fadel. When he enters the greenhouse, searching for Fadel while monologuing, he shouts:

But I ain't scared of you!

Fun fact, in Thai he actually phrases it as "You think I'm scared of you?":

มึงคิดว่ากูกลัวมึงหรอ [mueng - kít wâa - guu - gluua - mueng - rŏr] you - think that - I - scared (of) - you - [question word]

It is night-time, Style walks along dark aisles in search of Fadel who ran away from him and is currently nowhere to be seen, when suddenly, out of nowhere Fadel appears, shoves him into some furniture (ish) and angrily yells into his face: "Who sent you?" Oh, wait, wrong episode.

User @secriden wrote an excellent post detailing the parallels between the ep3 storage room scene and the ep4 forest scene, but I actually think that the beginning of the scene is much closer to a different scene that we saw in episode 2: the locker room scene. It's interesting because this is the third time this episode calls back to the first two episodes. It starts with the parallel of Fadel's fake-out, then we had the parallel of Style publicly humiliating Fadel, and now we have a call-back to the locker room scene, which will soon turn into a parallel of the storage room hook-up. The parallels do be paralleling this episode.

In the locker room, it was Style who dropped a "love confession": "I like you. I liked you the moment I crashed into you that night. It was love at first sight. So damn romantic. Straight out of a movie." But now in the greenhouse it's Fadel's turn. Fadel ambushes Style, shoves him against the bars and starts raging. Fadel has yelled at Style a lot over the past few episodes. He yells at Style to reprimand him, to shoot down his advances, or to tell him to piss off. When Fadel yells at Style, it's all about his feelings of disdain he has for Style. So when Fadel says "I don’t like you messing up my life. My life has been planned out. You’re disrupting it," Style sighs a little and braces himself for yet another fight against Fadel:

But then Fadel goes off-script. "I don’t like myself when I look for you on the morning jog or at the market. I don’t like waiting to see if you’d show up at my restaurant or my go-to club. You— I don’t like you being in my life and changing it."

This is a new one. Style listens intently.

Fadel continues. "I don’t like feeling like this." Style has all his focus entirely on Fadel and his words now. He squeezes his eyes just the tiniest bit. And I think this is where Style starts to figure out the core of Fadel's problem.

"I don’t like it!", Fadel yells and Style looks at him with so much resolution and with so much understanding.

And then Fadel drops: "I don’t like that I miss you."

Fun fact about the word คิดถึง [kít-tĕung]: apart from "to miss", it can also have the meaning of "to think of, to think about". So another possible interpretation and underlying meaning of this line is "I don't like that I think about you."

Something vital that I want to bring up at this point now is something that @secriden has pointed out in her meta:

It's incredibly important that Style waited at this point. Style, who talks endlessly and without thought. Style, who demands that his story and his thoughts are aired first. Style, who has been telling Fadel this lie time and time again before Fadel’s feelings made it true... Stops. Waits. Stays silent. Because Fadel had to get there himself or not at all.

And get there, Fadel did. Fadel has just spilled that he thinks about Style, that he misses him. That Style's efforts have been worth it. That Fadel has started caring the way Style has started to care. Style looks at Fadel, takes it all in.

Style finally understands Fadel's problem, finally understands why Fadel has been acting the way he's been acting.

When Style kisses Fadel, there is so much purpose, so much intent to it. Style has something to say, something important, and every single thing on his mind, every single emotion, he puts it all into that kiss. And what he has to say is:

Yes. The caption in the gif is different from the official English subtitles. Because Style literally says:

มันโอเค​นะเว้ย ที่จะมีความรักอ่ะ [man - oh-keh - ná wóiie • thêe - jà - mee kwaam rák - àh] it - okay - [particle] • that - will - be in love - [particle]

And this is a distinction that is important to me personally. Phrasing it as "It's okay to be in love" is by far more specific than "It's okay to love" and I think this particular word choice hits Fadel harder as well. Fadel likes control, he likes knowing exactly what's going on at any given moment. But then Style shows up as a whirlwind in his life, bringing disorder to everything. Fadel is starting to develop feelings that he can't control and it freaks him out.

When Style kissed Fadel in the locker room it was an attack in the battle he was fighting against him. When Style kisses Fadel in the greenhouse, it's for reassurance. Style puts everything he wants to say with "It's okay to be in love" into that line. It's okay to let go. It's okay to let things take their natural course. It's okay to be in love. You're allowed to have feelings. It's not a bad thing. It's okay. It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay.

And with this we go into the parallels to the storage room scene. If you remember my ep3 meta, then you'll remember how I said that Style didn't really mean it at the time when he said he wanted Fadel right before they hook up. This time he didn't say a single word about it, but his actions show that he does want Fadel this time. Once again I'm gonna steal a thought from @clemelntine's meta:

[Style] isn't entirely giving in/passive in the situation, though. He still has a hands on Fadel holding him close/in place, and does seem to want to touch him. No matter how much he wants Fadel to service him, he isn't gonna let him do it all on his own. He too wants to explore Fadel as well.

We can really see that this time around. Unlike in the storage room, Style has his hands all over the place: on Fadel's throat, underneath Fadel's shirt, in Fadel's pants, pulling Fadel closer with his arm around Fadel's neck. What's more, there's significantly more eye contact. Fadel actually looks Style in the eye now. It's still not as much and as intense as in Style's fantasy, because they're still not quite there yet emotionally, but it's a start. They've both started to develop some actual feelings, and this time around they're also both aware of it. Of their own feelings as well as the other's feelings. Where last time they were acting purely on physical attraction, they're much more emotionally involved this time around. Emotionally they're much more on the same page this time around. And it's beautiful.

Also, I haven't seen anyone talk about this yet, but we are all aware that they show us pretty much the entire act from start to, uhhh well, finish, right? Right?? 🫣

No. 8: Be My Boyfriend

Not for the first time Style says he wants Fadel as a boyfriend. Unlike the other times though, Style actually means it this time around. His words are no longer for show, no longer a performance that will be rewarded with Kant's gratitude and his car. Style is being 100% serious about being Fadel's boyfriend. The car is more of an afterthought (and one that he will get to, because a deal is a deal, and he's been in love with the car much longer than he's had any positive feelings for Fadel for, but still. Right there in the woods, I think the car isn't really on his mind at the time).

Style means every flirty thing he says. He means it when he says "You’re mysterious and alluring. You’re quiet, but sexy as hell". If you remember, during the kitchen scene I mentioned that Style wasn't as loud in the flirty things he said, and we can really see that in the aforementioned line and also when he says "[Having a boyfriend is] great. You have someone to embrace, to love, and to…" These lines are much less loud and less performative than compared to everything that came out of his mouth in ep3 on the sports field.

By the way, I need you all to know that this exchange:

F: I’ll stick with jerking off. S: I’m sure.

Actually goes:

F: I can jerk off by myself. กูชักว่าวอยู่เองได้ [guu - chák wâao - yùu - eng - dâai] I - masturbate - be - (by) oneself/myself - be able to S: I know you can do it yourself. รู้ว่ามึงทำเองได้ [rúu wâa - mueng - tam - eng - dâai] know that - you - do - (by) oneself/yourself - be able to

And where did we get a similar exchange before? That's right. In that very scene at the sports field that I just mentioned:

F: If you want it that much, then go jerk off. ถ้าอยากมากเนี่ยก็ไปชักว่าวไป [tâa - yàak - mâak - nîia - gôr - bpai - chák wâao - bpai] if - want - much - [particle] - then - go - masturbate - go S: I know it can be done alone. รู้มันทำคนเดียวได้ [rúu - man - tam - kon diiao - dâai] know - it - do - alone - be able to

The words they say are similar, and yet these two exchanges are very different from one another. Just like in the kitchen, Style's flirting in the woods is much more grounded. It's not the same performance as it was in episode 3. And just as I said in my ep3 meta, it's when Style is being genuine that he actually reaches Fadel, not when he's putting up a show:

The inauthenticity in [Style's] insistent approach is what makes him annoying in those scenes [the running track and the market]. And it's also not what works on Fadel – it's when Style is being genuine that he actually reaches Fadel, like when he was helping him wait tables (which Fadel recognizes by rewarding him with a burger) or when Style was being playfully flirty in the sauna (which results in Fadel fantasizing about him at night).

What's interesting, though, that even though this is the very first time Fadel actually engages in Style's friendly banter and amiable conversation instead of ignoring him or yelling at him or telling him to piss off, at the beginning of the conversation Style doesn't have Fadel quite just yet. Actually, no. That's not accurate. Style is being genuine, has been genuine all episode already and so he does reach Fadel in the beginning of their conversation. Fadel is finally engaging, is finally getting involved. But then Style loses him again at a certain point. And it's specifically when he says:

But isn't it better to have someone like me with you?

Up until this very point, Fadel was mostly turned towards Style. He's smiled, he's laughed, he's rolled his eyes in amusement and he's actively taken part in Style's conversation. He's been more open with Style than he's ever been before. But now? He stares at Style for a moment, then turns away from him, closing himself off from Style again.

And it's interesting that this is happening at this specific point, because their entire conversation has mostly surrounded sex (adjacent) things and physical attraction. They literally start this conversation referencing their hook-up from right before, Style calls Fadel sexy, and then alludes that he wants to sleep with him again. And I think by the time Style says "I know you can [jerk off] by yourself. But isn’t it better to have someone like me with you?" Fadel is at a point where he's like Oh, so you only want to be my boyfriend just so you can do me again, huh? So this is all I am to you, huh?

Fadel isn't cool with that and so he starts to shut himself off from Style again. Style is rejected again. Style turns his head away from Fadel, sighs, raises his eyebrows, and I think he realizes (at least subconsciously) what Fadel is unhappy about, because the next thing he says the moment he's turned back to Fadel is:

What you said to me just now... I feel the same way.

And again, he's being sincere. His voice is calm and grounded, there's not a single trace of his dramatic antics. And that line and coupled with that sincerity has Fadel listening up again:

"Be my boyfriend," Style says and Fadel listens even more closely. "Give me a chance," Style says and Fadel looks away, laughs, and replies "You don’t even know me". Fadel's words are a challenge, but this time there is no malice, no anger, no annoyance in his voice. His voice is soft. Fadel poses a challenge, but it's not an invitation to fight. Or rather, it is an invitation to fight, but it's a very different fight from before. And Style is only happy to take up said challenge: "And what about it? I’ll learn more about you when you’re my boyfriend."

And for what he says next, I'd love to share a more literal translation with you again. In the English subs Style talks about being 100% in and it being Fadel's turn to let him in, which, yeah, it's the gist of it. However, in Thai he uses the word เปิดใจ [bpèrt jai] again, which I've already talked about in my ep3 meta because Style has used that word before during that scene where Fadel hands him the burger. The day after posting that meta, I actually asked my Thai teacher about this word in class (and nearly died in the process) because I hadn't discussed this word with a native speaker for my meta and while I had discussed this word with my Thai language learning buddy after he brought it up when I was trying to explain the German phrase "sich einlassen auf" (@ German speakers: เปิดใจ is very similar to that!), I just couldn't remember it well and wanted to double check just in case. According to my teacher, it's a word that is used to talk about opening up to something or about giving things a chance, but the literal translation is "to open one's heart" (เปิด [bpèrt] = to open / ใจ [jai] = heart, mind) and I think the series makes use of that literal meaning for a nice metaphor/image here. I think Style's choice of words is very deliberate:

I've opened my heart to you 100% already. กูเปิดใจให้มึงร้อยเปอร์เซนต์แล้วนะ [guu - bpèrt-jai - hâi - mueng - rói - bper-sen - láew - ná] I - open up (one's heart) - for, to - you - 100 - percent - already - [particle]

Only you remain. เหลือแค่มึงอ่ะ [lĕuua - kâe - mueng - àh] remain, left - only - you - [particle]

How much will you open your heart to me? จะเปิดใจให้กูมากแค่ไหน [jà - bpèrt-jai - hâi - guu - mâak kâe năi] will - open up (one's heart) - to, for - I/me - how much

Fadel, who has enclosed his heart in thick, high walls, is being asked how many doors leading up to it he is willing to open. Style subtly reminds Fadel that a relationship consists of two people, but leaves the decision of just how close Fadel will let Style get to his heart entirely up to Fadel. Because that's Fadel's choice to make.

While Style is talking, Fadel is listening intently, really taking in Style's words and contemplating them:

He's quiet for a moment after Style is done telling him You have full access to my heart now. I'm willing to give you a chance. I've done my part. The choice is on you now. Will you grant me access to your heart, too? Will you give me a chance as well?

Fadel thinks about it for a bit more, then laughs a small laugh, throws his head back, and goes "Yeah. Fine." Style is confused. Fadel then explicitly agrees to be his boyfriend. Style's eyes widen. He can't believe his ears. He has to ask for confirmation, has to make sure he really heard it right:

We're boyfriends, right? เป็นแฟนกันใช่มั้ย [bpen - faen - gan - châi mái] be - boyfriend, girlfriend - each other, together - right?

Fadel confirms. Style is absolutely over the moon and showers Fadel in kisses.

Do I think they're already in love? Not exactly. Unfortunately, I just don't have the time to look at Fadel as closely as I have been looking at Style (I need 48h days fr 😭😭) but when it comes to Style, I think even if he's not in love just yet, this is the start of something real. We saw in episode 3 that he was starting to develop positive feelings towards Fadel, was starting to genuinely have a good time hanging around Fadel, but he still had ulterior motives in the foreground of his mind. I think when he hooked up with Fadel in the storage room that kicked off something within him because, as I've made very clear in my ep3 meta, to Style sex isn't just sex. Because if it was, his journey this episode would have been going very differently. But throughout this entire episode Style has cared, he has cared so much to the point he's gotten really hurt. And his joy when Fadel agrees to be his boyfriend? That's real. And I don't think it's because he's about to receive the car of his dreams as a reward. If it was, I think Style would have been much more smug about Fadel agreeing to be his boyfriend, would have been much more self-satisfied underneath all that happiness. But Style's joy here is pure. And he doesn't brag about finally "winning" Fadel over, doesn't hold it over his head in a smug HAH, you gave in to me, I'm the one who won our battle of wills, look how cool I am sort of way. Style's joy is real, but what he's feeling is not quite love at this point. But so what if they're not in love just yet? Like Style said: They can get to know each other fall in love when they're boyfriends.

No. 8: Apollo's Ball Of Prophecy Is Real

Remember how a couple of paragraphs ago I said the car was just an afterthought, that Style would still get to? Well, he's getting to it now. He shows up at Kant's place and "When should I come and get your car?" is the first thing out of his mouth right after his hellos. Kant reminds Style of their deal and asks if Fadel has agreed to be Style's boyfriend. Style says "yes", shining brightly as the sun as he says this. And the way he shines while dropping this info to Kant makes me once again think that his happiness here is more focused on Fadel rather than the car. Style is a little smug now, but it's mostly before Kant mentions the words "Fadel" and "faen" together in one single sentence (yes, I had to go with the Thai word for boyfriend just for the alliteration lol). When Style says yes, Fadel is in fact his boyfriend now, the subtext I'm hearing is not something along the lines of Yeah, I finally got him, so where's my beloved car at, bro, we had a deal???? but what I'm hearing is more like Yes!! He is!! Can you believe!! Fadel is my BOYFRIEND!! Omg!! I did it!! Just like we'll see in the flashback to the "be my boyfriend" scene right after, there is something rather pure about Style's complete and utter joy at the thought of Fadel being his boyfriend.

Style relays the "be my boyfriend" conversation to Kant and it's only after that that Style really starts bragging: "Your best friend is a genius, isn’t he? I told you I can get anyone." And yeah, undeniably this is about the fact that he's getting a car out of it, but I also think that he would have bragged about it even if the deal with the car didn't exist. Kant and Style seem to have the sort of friendship where they always brag to each other about their love lives. We were shown this in episode 1 when Kant goes to see Style at the garage and Style immediately asks for the tea on his night with Bison, pretty much begging Kant to brag about it when Kant tries to change the topic to something else. Style would have bragged about Fadel to Kant no matter what. Besides, why wouldn't he go get the car, despite actual feelings being involved now? A deal is a deal, and if he can get the car of his dreams and the boyfriend of his dreams out of it, that's even better. Best of both worlds. Who wouldn't say no to that?

But Style's happiness gets smacked right out of him via Apollo's ball of prophecy as he learns that he should really be very careful what he jokes about. He almost spoke Fadel taking him out to the woods to kill him into existence. Fadel is a hitman. Style's panic gets the better of him. He has seen, felt on his own body even what Fadel is capable of. He doesn't like Fadel that much yet, so he's outta there before he gets to experience first hand the real depths of what Fadel can be capable of if Style gets too annoying. Car be damned. Style may be unhinged but he isn't suicidal.

Kant, however, manages to talk Style into helping him and staying with Fadel anyway. Now, you could say Style is unhinged for agreeing to help Kant instead of firmly refusing his request and getting out of this mess before it gets worse, but I think in that moment Style is genuinely afraid that Fadel WILL kill him if Style breaks up with him, breaks his heart right after Fadel has finally, finally given him closer access to it. And Style has had to work very hard for said access, so he knows very well how big that decision was for Fadel to entrust Style with just a little bit of his heart. And if Style then goes and breaks that little bit of Fadel's heart that he was given in the very next moment? That's a death sentence on Style's head right there.

And another reason why I think Style agrees to continue working for Kant's mission is that Style likes to help. I've already touched on this in my ep3 meta:

Style likes to help. We see this in the way he agrees to help his best friend by hitting on some weirdo guy (yes, of course he's also getting a car out of this deal, but I think part of the reason why he agrees to the deal is also because he genuinely wants to help Kant find love), we see this in the way he immediately takes orders from customers no questions asked in episode 2 right before he meets Bison, and we'll see this even later this episode [ep3] when he throws himself into the fight despite having no fighting skills whatsoever, just because he thinks three against one is unfair and wants to help.

Helping people is something that comes easy to Style, something he doesn't really have to think about, and so when Kant practically begs him to help Style can't do anything but agree to help Kant because not helping would go entirely against the nature of his character. Also, who could resist First's puppy eyes? Valid, absolutely valid. I, too, would fold like thin paper if First looked at me like That.

No. 9: Over Your Limit

Style is at the gym, probably in an attempt to work off some of the overwhelming emotions that Kant's reveal has left him with. What's interesting is, as @secriden noted, that Style decided to go there during daytime. From episode 2, both we, the audience, as well as Style know that Fadel likes to go to the gym at night specifically to avoid crowds. It's probably safe to assume that Style went there during the day specifically in order to avoid Fadel.

So Style sits there, lost in his memories, recontextualizing everything that happened at the greenhouse, processing Kant's news, rethinking his decision. Unfortunately for him, he's already made his choice the moment he agreed to help Kant, and so in the end Style goes Fuck it, I'm doing this.

Unexpectedly, Fadel shows up. Style hadn't been mentally prepared for that and despite his fuck it attitude just mere seconds ago (17, to be exact), his instincts kick in and he panics. Everything within him is screaming at him get away from this man, your life is in danger and so Style immediately rejects Fadel's offer for help: "I can’t do it anyway. I was pushing my limits."

Style is pushing his limits. Hitting on a guy? Sure, that's fine. Making him his boyfriend, despite said guy having walls as thick as the Great Wall of China? A little challenge, but nothing Style can't handle. But dating someone who is a professional killer, someone who is capable of taking lives and might very well be capable of taking his own boyfriend's life if need may be? That really is pushing any limit Style could ever have even as much as dreamed of. He can't do it.

But despite every instinct within Style telling him to run away, Style doesn't, because that would be suspicious and Style can't risk Fadel getting suspicious because that would seal his deathly fate even quicker. So Style hesitantly leans back and lets Fadel help him. And here at this point, I just wanna give a little shout out to Style raising his eyebrows and sighing a little after they're done, like whew, I survived that, I'm still alive, because it makes me giggle:

When Fadel alludes to wanting to have sex, Style plays dumb. Style has used this strategy before when he wanted to find out the connection between Fadel and the host club, but where in ep3 Style was playing dumb in order to gain Fadel's trust, here at the gym Style is playing dumb in order to delay having to get close to Fadel again (much less sleeping with him) while he figures out a way to get out of it. When Fadel cuddles up to him, it's the last straw. Style's panic takes over for good and he makes an escape. But then Fadel calls out to him, asking him to wait. Shit. Style's fight for his life is not yet over. Style stops, trying not to be suspicious or to do anything else that would give Fadel a motive to kill him.

Fadel walks up to him and wipes the sweat of his face. Where before Fadel's touch has recently been making Style feel good, it now feels very threatening instead. Yet, at the same time it's also a kind and caring gesture, which is something that isn't lost on Style.

Style very much notices the care in Fadel's action, but his new perspective on Fadel makes it hard for him to embrace and appreciate the kindness of it. And the kindness and care also contradicts the image of the ruthless killer Style now has in his mind of Fadel. These two contrasting aspects simply do not go together. Unable to cope, Style runs off.

The Attempt of a Conclusion

Where Style had just a little bit of a problem at the beginning of the episode, by the end of it that problem has grown much larger than he could have ever anticipated. Over the course of episode 3 we saw that Style was slowly starting to develop some positive feelings for Fadel, was slowly starting to actively enjoy hanging out around him, was starting to get curious about Fadel of his own accord and not for motives connected to the deal. Yet, the deal was still very much always there. In episode 4, however? Style might not have entirely realized it yet, but that deal is no longer relevant to him. Not showing up to the morning jogging or at the market might still have been a planned strategy in the mission Kant gave him, but that mission goes right out the window the moment he hears that Fadel had asked about him. When Style goes running to Fadel the second he is told that Fadel had asked about him when actually Style could and probably should have played his game a little longer, really letting Fadel stew, from that moment onward it's all about Style's own feelings rather than the car. And everything he does this episode is led by those feelings. Over the course of this episode we see that Style has genuinely started to like Fadel. And he had to. He had to start liking Fadel before learning about Fadel's real job. Because the higher you are, the further you fall and Style accidentally having caught feelings makes the drop down worse, for both Style, the character as well as us, the audience. Style genuinely likes Fadel now, and if that wasn't enough of a problem already, the man he likes turns out to be a professional killer.

Crap, indeed.

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep5 | Ep6 | Ep7 | Ep8 | Ep9 | Ep10 | Ep11 | Ep12)

[myeyebagsaredesigner]

So like, I have a personal HC that Dick and Jason bonded over Lady Gaga, they'd spend nights dancing to her music. After Jason died Dick kind of always cried listening to her, so it became something he had a big place in his heart, crying at almost every song of her.

And given a recent show of her [Copacabana, Br] I think it would be pretty funny or cute if Jason was like "You know what, fuck it." And sent Dick a "threat" message telling him to go alone to Brasil telling he had some information of smth that would happen in the show and he HAD to be there cuz it involved someone he was looking for or wtvr and when Dick got there Jason is just waiting for him with two hot dogs and clothes to wear to the show, he doesnt say anything other than the songs lyrics [Dick cant get a grasp of him after that day too]

THANK U! I have posted very early on how Dick and Jason connected over Queen Gaga. It makes perfect sense to me.

Jason is definitely as off the grid as possible. Always. Like if you even want to think about contacting him, you either have to ask Oracle or ask Roy. It used to be because of his many grudges and spite, but now it's more because he likes to remain mysterious. He and Cass have this in common. They'll both just disappear for weeks on end without leaving so much as a note. The bats never know where they are. They don't know when they'll come back. One time, Jason and Cass run into each other while in Arizona, and they go see the Grand Canyon together. They part without a word.

So when Dick received a message from Jason for the first time in forever, he didn't even think twice before accepting. And if Jason was willingly trying to help him and share info? He's not one to turn this stuff down.

He doesn't even take a second glance at the portion of the text that says to show up in casual, but fashionable clothes. He easily finds Jason, ignoring the venue he seems to be standing near. He's wearing Gaga merch and holding.. hotdogs?

Jason just shoves a hotdog at him and drags him closer to the stage. Dick doesn't say anything. Partially because he's confused, but he also wants to see how this plays out. He flips when Lady Gaga walks onto the stage.

They sing their hearts out the whole night.

Shallow starts up and Dick might've cried. He's not too sure. His soul left his body as soon as he saw Gaga.

They take videos and selfies throughout the show, still not saying a word to each other. One of the pictures is set as Dick's wallpaper. Jason has a similar one, though he'll never admit it.

The show ends and Jason flashes an awkward smile his way before leaving.

They never talk about it. Dick doesn't say where he went or what happened, when Bruce ends up asking. He's letting himself have this moment. He frames one of their pictures and sets it on his nightstand in his apartment.

Jason goes off the grid again for a while, but Roy lets it slip that he's caught him watching back some of the videos he took during the show.

After that night, Dick feels complete. Like a part of him healed, the part that started to make it's appearance when Jason had died. He finally feels whole again after all this time.

[lifeafterpsychiatry]

hi so I saw your post about wrong treatment and wrong diagnosis etc and I wanted to share my story

I got into depression after a really bad burnout while studing in uni, my mom (and others) didn't know what was happening to me, they dismissed my mental state, but somehow I got into mental hospital and it was bad it was really bad, I live in a third world country and there's big mental health stigma and police and other government institutions such as health care don't treat people right, like there was a lot of abuse (some time physical but not to me) in that closed psych wards, so i was there once, it didn't help, they just was giving us medications there was no therapy or anything, doctor checked on us once or twice a week, they didn't say my diagnosis to me, nor anyone else, I was relised in a month, then I was taken there the second time year later, they didn't say to me my diagnosis but they changed my medication, later I would discover that they thought I had schizoaffective disorder (which is wrong but we will get there) I was taking my meds but nothing helped really, the hardest part was getting a job because I was officially labeled as mental ill in all the governments data and if I wanted to work officially anywhere so I could have pension and insurance I had to apply to job with a health check and of course there would be written mentally ill (or something like that, sorry I can't phase it better, English isn't my first language and I don't have any will to translate it properly now)

at that point after they changed my medication I started to have some kind of panic attacks but it's not a typical panic attack, usually I was loosing consentration, my sight worsening, I had a really bad negative self talk I was afraid something bad would happen to me, I would call my self stupid or lame or a loser and it's like it wasn't anyone else it was me and I couldn't shut up, this attacks lasted for 1 or 2 hours

of course I went to a doctor and told everything they said it was probably part of the illness and raised up my medication, at that time ive already knew my diagnosis but not because they told me but because it was written in my profile on a gov. site, it wasn't public but it was there (later it disappeared) and I asked my doc, why do I have this diagnosis and what it means, he said it's just mood swings (I kid you not he said you just have often mood swings)

okay so my attacks disappeared for a year, I continued taking those meds, believing they would help me

I was in a closed psych ward two times after that, not because of this attacks because my depression worsened and after the last time I started having these attacks 2 or 3 times a week, I worked at that time, no one on my job knew about me being on meds or my mental problems, and I was doing fine actually

turns out I just needed a decent job and my life improved drastically, but these attacks were bothering me I was afraid I would lose my job (I was fired anyway, but it was unrelated to this)

at that time I had trouble falling asleep (I ve had this problem my whole life) and my doc prescribed me pills which weren't sleep pills at all, I googled and they were so hard I couldn't wake up in the morning and I was taking a lot of day off because of it and I also started to have memory gaps, like something was messing with my memory, when I asked if it could be result of these pills the doc said no, and my memory problems was something else, I quit these pills anyway and my memory problems were gone, and then I started to assume, maybe these attacks were because of this medication, I have never had this kind of mess with my brain before I started that medication, I wanted to ask but I was afraid they would take me to the hospital again against my will, because I knew this had happened to a lot of people who were there with me, and they (government hospital) have this quota when they have to have a sertain amount of patience in a psych wards so I was afraid and they weren't trustworthy to me anymore

so I finally found courage to see a non government psychiatrist and not just one, three from different cities, all of them said I didn't have schizoaffective disorder and it was untreated depression and one of them (who is now my psychiatrist) told me to quit my meds and this attacks would end, tbh I was very afraid but I quit and they disappeared in a month, last time I took them was 7 months ago, I started better suiting medication and I also started CBT which changed my life drastically, I made more progress in last two months on therapy than 6 years taking wrong meds

but I'm still bitter about this whole situation I'm still afraid I could be taken to the hospital again, I still can't find a decent official job because I'm still officially on govs "mental ill person" list

one thing I have to say so you and others if you share this will understand what kind of hell is happening in those government mental hospitals

there was this old lady, she was 89 she had dementia or something and she was blind and almost deaf, they tied her to the bench in the hallway everyday, and didn't take her to bathroom even if she pleated (she had a diaper) patiences bullied and mocked this old lady and the stuff encouraged it and sometimes even participated and one or two times I heard they were beating her in the toilet where there were no cameras

I'm an illustrator, and I came up with this idea of making a comic about what ive gone through and about everything and everyone I saw there, it the least I can do for these people because no one talks about this and there is no hope for any justice

anyway, sorry if I somehow worsened your day with this confession

also sorry for broken English and any mistakes

i just needed to vent I guess, everyday I think about this situation about all those people and i am filled with rage but I can't do anything because it's a systemic issue I will do anything I can anyway

I'm so angry all of this was done to you. It's unfortunately a common experience that you see someone about some mild mental health issue, get put on heavy psychiatric medication, get worse, then complain about worsening quality of life due to serious side effects just to have your concerns about the pills dismissed as "worsening mental illness" and get even more psych meds in even higher doses pushed onto you, in a scary dehumanizing spiral that won't ever actually help improve your quality of life. I hope you get to make your comic someday, your story is important

[mantequillamcwhoremick]

I'LL DO ANYTHING BRO 🙏🙏🙏🙏 I'M BEGGING 😭😭😭😭😭 PLEASE RAMBLE

Alright, so.

First thing about it is the setup of the scenes; the chapter could've been easily split into two because it's LONG and either scene has plenty of content on its own to make up for the lack of the other, but I really didn't wanna split it because the tragedy in it all was enhanced so well by them playing together.

In the first scene we have flashbacks of Butters as Kenny knew him; the true heart of their relationship, an in-depth exploration of WHY Butters was so important to him. Why he wasn't just any friend, why none of Kenny's other friends can even remotely fill the hole he left behind— not even Tweek, even though he believes Kenny about his curse too. We see Butters as he is in the show; a chipper kid, soft and caring, someone who comforts those who need it without thinking about it twice.

"Butters moved Heaven and Hell to get to him so he wasn’t alone" means that Butters would often break his parents' rules, sneak out when he was supposed to do chores, study, be grounded— he risked everything to be there for Kenny. This hasn't been explicitly mentioned in the fic but it will, and it plays into why Kenny feels so guilty about Butters' disappearance and everything that went downhill in the Stotch house.

Then we have the second scene, and— dare I say— the first real introduction to Vic Chaos. Butters and Chaos have haunted the narrative since the first chapter, and now we finally see them as one in the flesh, and it's a violent contrast to the soft and chipper Butters we saw just now: Butters, as Kenny knew him five years ago, vs. Vic Chaos, an impulsive man who shoots careless bullets around the room and hammers in on Kenny's head with a metal chair.

I wish I could've done a better job at it still, but in a way, what I'm trying to recreate in Chaos Plan is this feeling I got when I saw Vic Chaos in "Post Covid: The Return Of Covid" for the first time. This man, who is so unmistakably Butters (Matt & Trey really did a great job aging up all the boys honestly, they're all perfectly recognizable), and yet so distant it's chilling. Kyle's attempted warning to Cartman in that same special is a perfect representation of the chilling reality of who Butters has become:

Kyle: Cartman, listen to me very carefully. Butters has some kind of power over people. You guys aren't safe. Cartman: Uh, yes, about 12:30. Kyle: [stunned] Did you hear what I said? Butters is extremely dangerous!

He leaves behind a trail of literal death and destruction, then "waltzes out like nothing happened" (actual quote from the fireman in this scene), in the same upbeat way we know Butters is usually like. In s16's "Butterballs" this is what Butters says to his grandma after his violent outburst on live TV:

I got real mean and I beat the snot outta Dr. Oz. I can't lie, it felt kind of good. At first. But since then all I have is just... a kind of dark, empty feeling. Then I realized... that's how you must feel. All the time.

In both Chaos Plan as well as Post Covid (the bad ending), Butters has embraced this side of himself. This careless, built-up rage from years and years of the world beating down on him and then leaving him trapped alone, to his own devices. There is an endless "dark, empty feeling" inside him that he has been both forced to and let himself succumb to, distant from everything he used to be— even his own name.

And he keeps the mask up perfectly throughout the whole fight with Mysterion. At first they banter, flirt a little, even. Does he realize what he's doing when he says things like "Couldn't let him take the cake, could I?" or "Oh, you’ll sign your name, all right. All after I’m done with you"? I doubt it; Butters is notorious for being oblivious to obvious innuendo. It's all a game to him, he's stuck somewhere between being a kid playing the villain with a flair for the dramatic, and someone who's gotten desensitized and numb to the horrors of life.

So what snaps him out of it?

Bodily harm. Or the threat of it.

Cartman: Godammit Butters, stop playing games! My entire family is in danger of being wiped out and I swear to God if you don't help me, Butters, I will rip your fucking balls off with my bare hands! Vic Chaos: Ohh hamburgers.

Suddenly he isn't Chaos anymore. He isn't Vic, he isn't a mastermind scammer, hacker, he is none of the masks he wears to desperately smother whoever is below. He is just Butters, a kid who is afraid of pain.