#and also because of the behind the scenes

[sparklingchim]

reckless | jjk

pairing: idol!jungkook x producer!reader

word count: 3.7k

tropes: idol!jungkook, producer!reader, established relationship, childhood best friends

rating: pg

warnings: smooches!!, jungkook’s being very touchy <3, smoking, lots of pda, one (1) butt squeeze, lots of teasing n flirting (they're in love ur honour), mentions of jk being on a diet, mentions of oc being bullied in the past, just soft lovesick jk <3

summary: a casual date, the skirt’s a little too short, the night a little too quiet, and jungkook's hands on you like he's never going to let go.

a/n: writing this was so therapeutic im this 🤏 close to breaking no contact ❤️ (also dare i say this is the maybe in another universe couple <3)

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

When you round the corner of the building, it’s not hard to find Jungkook.

He’s leaned against his Harley, dark clothes hanging easy on him, making him blend into the night. He has a faint frown on his face as he scans the empty street, toying with his lip ring like he’s lost in thought.

Once he spots you, though, everything softens. His eyes go all boba-round and warm, crinkling at the corners as a smile stretches across his face. That stupid pretty one that makes your chest feel full. He straightens up a little.

“Sorry for making you wait,” you say when you reach him, rising on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck. You hug him tightly. You melt into him without thinking. His hands naturally land on the small of your back, holding you close in his embrace.

“It’s okay, baby.” Jungkook leans back just enough to press a little kiss to your lips.

One of his hands dip even lower, brushing over the curve of your butt and the light fabric of your skirt. It doesn’t take long before he grazes bare skin, catching just the edge where the hem ends and you begin.

“How did it go?” he asks.

“Oh, it was so fun!” you beam, hands coming together in an excited little clap in front of your chest. You bounce slightly.

It had been a long day filming at one of the major companies in Seoul, part of that new show about the behind-the-scenes process of producing k-pop songs. The set was huge – too many lights, too many people, and so many cameras that you couldn’t even look around without feeling watched.

Everything felt loud and fast and intimidating, like you were going to mess up just by standing there.

“I was still really nervous in the beginning because there were a lot of people, but I did what you told me over the phone this morning and reminded myself that just being there already meant I belonged. That in a little while this would be just another thing that I’ve overcome.”

Dare you mention that just this morning, you felt like throwing up at the thought of today’s schedule – and yet, somehow, it turned into something you ended up loving. Getting to work on something you’re genuinely passionate about, surrounded by new people who love it just as much as you, felt amazing, inspiring.

“I told you it wouldn’t be as bad. You wanted to call in sick,” Jungkook reminds you, teasing you with an arched brow.

“I felt so anxious this morning!”

“You underestimate what you’re capable of.”

“Anyways.” Your shoulders slump slightly. “I’m exhausted now.”

“We can just go to my place if you want.” He gently tucks your hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek.

“No. I wanna go to the Han River with you,” you say, lips tugging into a pout.

Jungkook grabs the collar of his hoodie and pulls it over his head. A glimpse of his toned abdomen flashes before his black tee falls back into place. He swings the hoodie around your waist, draping it carefully before tying it snug at the front.

“Can’t drive my bike in a short skirt like this,” he explains in a mumble, smoothing the hoodie down over your butt.

“You helped me pick out this outfit this morning.”

If you’d been left alone in your anxious spiral this morning, you probably would’ve just thrown on whatever comfy thing was closest. But after Jungkook talked you down over the phone, his voice all soft and steady, you felt a little more okay. Okay enough to want to feel pretty, at least. So you stood in front of your overflowing closet, doors hanging open, letting him help you pick something out over facetime.

“Yeah well. You look pretty. I wasn’t thinking about logistics.”

You roll your eyes, but your face warms anyway. “You’re the logistics.”

“Sue me for getting distracted.” He pecks your temple, grinning as he pulls back.

Then he crouches next to the Harley, lifting the seat to reveal a small storage compartment. With a bit of manoeuvring, he pulls out a black helmet, matching his own.

He turns back to you and holds it out like it’s something delicate. “C’mere,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back gently before slipping the helmet over your head and securing the strap under your chin.

“Too tight?” he murmurs, adjusting the strap with the pads of his fingers.

You shake your head.

He grabs his own helmet from the handlebar, slipping it on with practiced ease. The engine rumbles to life with a twist of his wrist, loud and steady. He swings one leg over the bike and settles in before turning to glance at you over his shoulder. He holds his hand out to you.

“Hop on, baby.”

You take his hand, grabbing his shoulder with your other one for leverage as you climb on behind him. Your hands move to circle his middle once you’re properly sitting.

“You good?” He cranes his neck back to you, looking you over.

“Yes,” you reply, hugging his back. “Drive safely, please.”

The engine hums beneath you, the vibration slipping through your legs and settling in your chest as Jungkook coaxes the Harley onto the road.

The wind rushes past in silky ribbons, threading through your hair and curling under your skirt, making you curl closer into his back. His hoodie sways around your legs, and his scent, clean laundry and the last bit of cologne clinging to his skin, fills your lungs. You rest your cheek against the strong curve of his back.

Seoul twinkles around you in bits and pieces, like someone sprinkled glitter across the skyline. Streetlights blink down like stars with somewhere to be.

At a red light, Jungkook reaches for your hand without even looking, like it’s second nature. His fingers find yours and give them a slow, reassuring squeeze that makes your chest flutter. Then his hand drifts upward, trailing a lazy path along your arm before slipping behind him. His touch lands on your thigh, gently brushing his thumb over your skin. It’s just a small stroke, but enough to send a little spark dancing up your spine.

Eventually, the buildings thin out, replaced by the open stretch of the Han River, glistening under the city’s glow. Jungkook rolls into a quiet patch near the railing and cuts the engine.

“My mum would kill me if she knew I was riding a bike with you,” you say.

Jungkook huffs a laugh as he slips off his helmet. With a little shake of his head his hair falls back into place. “My mum would kill me for letting you ride it with me.” He turns slightly to look at you, flashing his soft dimple as he reaches to unclip your helmet.

“And yet,” you retort as he helps lift it off your head, “here we are.”

“Reckless,” he grins, brushing your hair back into place. “But cute.”

~

After a quiet walk along the river, you settle onto a bench facing the water.

“I even got a bit of the lyrics done for the song we finished producing,” you say, tucking your hands into your sleeves

Jungkook hums, slinging his arm over the back of the bench and letting it rest behind your shoulders, pulling you closer. “You need to let me listen to it.”

“I’m not giving you the song.”

“Ah, it’s always worth a try.”

“I’ll start working with you when you guys are over this...era of music you’re in right now.”

“Era of music?” Jungkook scoffs. “You find new words how to describe the fact that you don’t like the new music every time.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you whine, falling into his teasing. “It’s not that I don’t like the new music. It’s just not my type of production,” you quickly defend, truthful.

“At least let me listen to it.”

“When I’m finished you can.”

He lets out a small groan. “I’m terrible at being patient.”

“Oh, I know. Don’t have to remind me.” He’s an impatient boyfriend disguised as your number one fan (which, let’s be honest, he is). Always acting like he’s not trying that hard – when really, he’s the most obvious about it.

You roll your eyes every time he launches into a totally casual, totally unplanned, “hey, wanna show me a little something?” but you love it, every time. You love the way he sneaks into your world like that. Softly, stubbornly.

The sneaky bribes, the casual shoulder nudges, the way he tries to coax you into playing something, anything, even if it’s unfinished. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s just a late night, the two of you curled up on the couch, guitar perched on your lap, him humming half-written lyrics with his knees touching yours and a smile tucked into his voice. Songs that only live between you two.

“I’ll show it later to you,” you finally say. There’s not much of a fight when it comes to Jungkook. “Missed you.” You rest your head on his shoulder, hugging his arm.

“We should do something before my schedule gets crazy again.” Jungkook pats down his front pockets. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Like a small vacation?”

“I’d love that.”

You eye him as he slips a cigarette between his lips, cupping the flame with one hand as he lights it. The cigarette glows at the tip, smoke curling past his cheekbones and drifting in the opposite direction as he tilts his head to avoid blowing it your way. You still wrinkle your nose and lean your head away, your clutch around his arm loosening.

“You’re buying me ice cream for smoking next to me,” you mutter, half playful, half serious.

He exhales to the side again, then flicks the ash off the end with a small grin. “I was already gonna.”

You give him a look. “Not the point.”

“I know.” He tilts his head toward you, eyes tracing your face like he’s trying to read something only he can see.

You sigh, the slightest hint of annoyance seeping through, but your fingers find his again anyway, slipping between them. He’s warm, even with the breeze coming off the water. The smoke lingers in the air between you, but his scent cuts through it – familiar, stupidly comforting.

“I say we go on a weekend trip to Jeju,” Jungkook says, his gaze fixed ahead.

Your head pops up. “That seafood restaurant,” you gasp, eyes widening.

He watches you, smiling at your excitement.

“We have to go,” you say, tugging his arm. “I still think about that abalone porridge from that tiny place by the harbour, you remember? With the old lady who called us lovebirds.”

“How could I not?” Jungkook laughs. “She told me to marry you or someone else would.”

You laugh too. “She wasn’t wrong.”

Jungkook snorts, flicking the half-smoked cigarette away and stubbing it out under his shoe. He turns back to you, and you feel his finger brush over your ring finger – it's a subtle, fleeting touch, but you wouldn’t dare miss it.

“I wouldn’t ever let that happen.” He leans in, catching you in a warm kiss.

“I love you,” you murmur against his lips, then pull back slightly. “But don’t kiss me after you’ve just smoked.”

Jungkook sighs like you’ve wounded him. Dramatically. Then he leans back in, peppering kisses along your cheek, down the slope of your jaw, and onto your neck, ignoring your protests with every one.

“Jungkook,” you warn through laughter, swatting at him half-heartedly. “We’re not at home.”

“But I still love you the same.” It’s a gentle murmur against your neck, nuzzling the skin there before leaving one last kiss just below your jaw.

“Jungkook.”

He finally pulls back, just enough to meet your eyes, and his teasing fades into something more softer, more quieter.

“I love the way you say my name.”

His mouth curves into the faintest smile, just slightly lifting the corner of his lips. But his eyes hold the sincerity behind his words, the soft glow of them making you feel like you’re the prettiest girl he has ever seen.

Every time Jungkook says this, you’re reminded of when you still wore uniforms and shared secrets in the quiet spaces between classes. When he said it for the first time, you thought he was poking fun at you like the others for pronouncing words differently because you grew up abroad, in the US.

He told you it sounded softer, rounder, like it meant something more when it came from you. He said it made him feel like someone safe. Someone yours.

He doesn’t say it often, but every time he does, you’re reminded of the past. And a soft, nostalgic feeling settles in your chest at the memory of fifteen-year-old Jungkook and you falling in love for the first time. It’s a bittersweet ache because when you think of that time, all you see is blue, but Jungkook was the one thing that still felt warm. Like hope tucked into a person.

And now, years later, even with everything you’ve both grown through and grown out of, that version of him still lives in moments like this. In quiet confessions and shared glances.

Heat nestles in your cheeks. You look away – straight at the river with the twinkling lights reflecting off of it. They remind you of his eyes.

“What?” His voice carries a teasing lilt, like he can’t quite place where your sudden shyness is coming from, but he’s definitely enjoying it.

“I dunno,” you mumble under your breath, hiding your face on his chest while keeping your eyes trained on the water. “I just get overwhelmed sometimes.”

“By what?”

“By how much I love you.”

“Wanna know something?”

“Hm?”

“I do too.”

You smile into his shirt, warmth blooming in your chest.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “You really know how to kill a man,” he murmurs, voice low and a little awed.

You look up at him at that.

“I love you more,” he says eventually, like it’s the simplest truth. “Like... stupid amounts. Heart-aching amounts.”

You giggle, nose scrunching. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You started it.” He peers down at you, eyes soft. “Now let me be in love with you in peace.”

“I’ll let you love me in peace after we get snacks.”

“Will I ever witness a day where you don’t want something sweet?”

“Nuh-uh.” You shake your head with exaggerated seriousness. “The day can’t successfully end until you’ve had a sweet treat.”

“I actually think you’re singlehandedly keeping the candy industry alive.”

“I should be thanked, honestly.”

You rise to your feet, brushing invisible dust off your skirt as you stand in front of him. Jungkook doesn’t move right away. His eyes trail down to your legs, then to the hem of your skirt, fingers reaching out to tug it just a little lower with that automatic protectiveness he tries (and fails) to hide.

“You’re not cold, baby?” he asks, nodding toward his hoodie tossed over the bench behind him.

“No, I’m okay.”

Still sitting, he tugs you gently by the hips until you’re standing between his knees. His hands find your waist like magnets, thumbs stroking slow circles against the sliver of skin where your top has ridden up.

“I like this spot,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your stomach, right above your belly button. You flinch a little, giggling, fingers slipping into his thick hair.

“You’re such a menace,” you say, voice light, but you don’t pull away.

“And you’re so pretty,” he says, looking up at you from where he’s still crouched against your tummy. His eyes are warm, sparkling. “Like... dangerously pretty. You know that?”

You bite your lip. “Stop.”

“I’m serious.” He rests his chin just above your waistband, arms looping around the back of your thighs like he’s not letting go anytime soon. “Sometimes I think you’re not even real.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hold back your smile. “That’s what people say right before they do something stupid.”

He grins up at you, squeezes your thigh just enough to make you squeak. “Then I must be about to do something really stupid.”

“I feel like that’s something for home. Not public.”

“You think so?” He tilts his head slightly.

“Jungkook.” It’s meant to be a chiding. But instead, it escapes softer than you intended, more like a puff of air. Like we shouldn’t but I wanna know anyway. Like stop talking... but actually, no – keep going please.

Instead of backing off like any reasonable person would, he smirks, then has the audacity to give your butt the lightest squeeze, fingers quick and shameless.

You squeal, jumping back. “Jungkook!”

Flashing you a smile that’s somehow both innocent and guilty, he casually grabs his hoodie from the bench and stands up.

You stare at him, half scandalized, half trying not to smile. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Come on,” he says, slinging the hoodie over one shoulder glancing over at you with that smug softness that drives you crazy. “You wanted snacks, no?” He grabs your hand.

You narrow your eyes, but your feet already fall into step beside his.

~

It’s not a long walk until you reach the next convenient store.

“It looks kinda busy in there,” you tell Jungkook, peering through the glass. “I’ll just run in real quick. You can wait out here.”

Jungkook squints into the store, brows furrowed. “Who’s in there? I don’t want you going in alone if there’s some creeps.”

You roll your eyes and nudge him with your elbow. “It’s just a group of girls. Relax,” you say. “What do you want?”

He pulls his black card from his pocket. “Nothing for me. Just treat yourself, baby.”

You snatch the card from his hand. “Don’t mind if I do.”

~

You exit the store with a slightly overstuffed plastic bag tugging at your wrist. Being a girl who loves snacks, is hopelessly indecisive – and has her boyfriend’s black card – is a dangerous combo.

Jungkook tilts his head, trying to sneak a look inside the bag. “What’d you get?”

“Too much to name,” you say breezily, fishing out the ice cream resting right on top. “Got this for us, though.” It’s the ice cream that comes with two sticks so you can snap it in half and share. “I always think of you when I see this,” you admit, passing him one half after cracking it down in the middle.

“Ah, I didn’t want to eat any sweets today.”

“Too late,” you tease, nudging it closer to his mouth. “You already kissed me, so that’s off the table.”

He lets out a soft laugh. “That counts?”

“It absolutely does.” You raise your brows. “Now eat, please.”

He leans forward and takes a small bite straight from your hand. “Happy now?”

“Very much so.” You swipe the pad of your finger over a smudge of ice cream at the corner of his mouth, then lick it off with a grin.

He huffs a quiet laugh, head tilting as he watches you with that impossibly fond look. “You’re trouble.”

“Says you!”

With a sigh, he takes it from you. “You’re only getting away with this because you’re cute.”

“I know.” You smile around the ice cream in your mouth. “I can’t have a boyfriend who says no to a sweet treat.”

You fall into step beside him, walking slowly as you both nibble at the halves in your hands.

“I’m dieting.”

“For what?”

He doesn’t answer, just shrugs, proving your point.

That’s when your mind slips, just a little, to all the ways you used to be like this. All the self-destructive habits he had to gently pry from your grip. Jungkook has saved you many times. And you want to be there for him just as much he was there for you when no one chose you. When he was the only one who saw you – really saw you – and still chose to stay.

You reach for his hand, linking your fingers through his.

“I feel like sometimes you live your life like it’s harder than it has to be. Like you’re holding yourself back, setting rules that you don’t have to follow.”

Jungkook lets out a quiet breath. “I know,” he mutters, squeezing your hand. “You’re the first person who made me think maybe I deserve ease too. You make it feel okay to slow down.”

“Am I?” you ask sceptically. You hope you do, but are you actually?

He tips his ice cream in your direction.

You laugh. “Baby steps.”

You glance up at him. He’s licking his ice cream, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth like he doesn’t even realize it’s there. It makes your chest ache a little. In that sweet way.

“Jungkook?”

His head turns slightly, face lit soft by the golden glow of a nearby streetlamp. His eyes flick to you, a soft, curious glint catching in them as your gaze meets his. You lean your head against his arm.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for sticking with me through every version of myself.”

It’s a thought that catches you off guard – maybe not entirely, you’re not sure – but suddenly it’s there, clear and undeniable. A reminder that, through every change, every version of yourself, he’s never left. Whether you’ve been at your best or your worst, he’s always stayed. And sometimes, it’s hard to wrap your mind around the fact that someone can love you through all of that.

“There’s never been a version I didn’t love,” he says quietly, like it’s not something he even has to think about.

Your heart stumbles a little, eyes stinging in that warm, fuzzy way that only he can cause.

“You make it really easy, you know,” he adds, brushing his thumb gently across the back of your hand. “Loving you. I don’t even think about it. I just do.”

You blink up at him, lips twitching into the kind of smile that only he gets to see. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

He tugs you closer to him, your sides brushing with each step.

“You existed.”

[bbokicidal]

[SKZ] When you're included in a SKZCODE episode

i made this before the front desk at work tried to take me out so yall can have it now since my brain is rattled n chunky.

Genre: Fluff Pairing: OT8 x Reader Warnings: Lino's pics aren't from the episode I put bc I couldn't find any, sorry!

SFW Masterlist | NSFW Masterlist

Chan: Episode: Winter is Coming [Ep 1 & 2]

Pouts when he finds out he has to try and stop you from getting the flag up and down the hill in record time because he wants you to win,,, duh.

But it doesn't stop him from absolutely ramming a ball of snow into the back of your head (on accident)

Laughs at the way the boys try to stop you with their bodies and the way you fearlessly bodyslam them in an attempt to win the game

Almost dies of laughter at seeing you spin in circles and then try to attack the poor balloon - only for it to fly away and disqualify you

Buys you hot chocolate after the shoot is over and cuddles up with you to keep warm after being outside in the snow all day <3

Minho: Episode: The Ultimate SKZCODE Recap [Ep 69-70]

Has to hide his giggles at your poor presenting of the boys' awards

And how bad they are at guessing the right answers to the quiz questions

Gets all blushy when you announce him for any award and shies away when you run to the audience to sit down and cheer so loudly for him

Ends up trying to bribe you for answers to the quiz questions by winking and blowing you kisses from his table

Until he's called out by Jisung, at least

Changbin: Episode: SKZ-ARY TOWN [Ep 57-68

Cannot hide his laughter at the way you fail at bobbing for apples

But then loses his shit jumping around and yelling "That's my baby!!" when you manage to get a few and tie with Felix for first place

Tries to bribe the staff to give him the same amount of points as you since you're dating

Tells you to do the first position in the relay game but quickly switches with you when he realizes you almost fly away with Chan and Minho trying to restrict your running with the band

He's literally bouncing around with how good you are at the mini games and ends up putting you on the toast-toss station because you're the only team member who doesn't suck

Hugs you so tight when you win the game and swings you around in his arms just because he's so excited

Hyunjin: Episode: Go! Poolside SKZ [Ep 57-58]

Has the time of his life seeing you and Jisung run and dive in together because you lost rock paper scissors

Asks for you to not be on his team because he doesn't trust your ability in the water games as if he's any better himself

Ends up accidentally hitting you with the ball a few times and immediately apologizes, then allows you to throw it at him once on purpose as revenge

Just about loses it on Seungmin when he flips over your tube like Chan did with Felix, then yells for staff to disqualify him

But he's just as brutal because in the tug of war he rips your ass off of the platform and almost falls in because of how hard he's laughing at your yells of protest

Jisung: Episode: SKZ Family Returns [Ep 39-40] (He looked SO FINE in this episode good GAWD)

Has a blast flirting it up with Minho but after Seungmin starts biting back he makes a show of turning to you instead

You play his in-law technically - Your character being Hyunjin's sibling

Everyone is in shock and making a scene of Jisung's flirtatious attitude towards you as the roleplay goes on

And they're even more surprised and making drama of it when the two of you kiss behind Hyunjin's head

He ends up sitting with his guitar and singing the 'I'm sorry' song again because of it

Almost starts fighting Seungmin at one point because he 'also wants to have an affair with you' as a joke

Felix: Episode: Bedtime Bingo Hell [Ep 55-56]

Watching him yell about how he's bronze is what makes you laugh the most

He has a blast watching you try to do the pillow air-bowling but gawks when you manage to knock a few down and then yells about how you're his and how he's so proud

He's full of giggles when you hop on the whoopie cushion

And he's full of playful rage when Changbin is called 'the one with the prettiest butt' so he begins an argument that yours is way prettier

Also almost loses his shit when you come in second for the loudest fart

He's proud but at what cost

Seungmin: Episode: Fall Field Day [Ep 59-60]

Cries at seeing you in the raw chicken blow up costume and takes a picture before making it his lockscreen because he thinks you're so cute

He ends up being the one to fight you on the mat and ends up losing to you

Don't let his cuteness fool you - he absolutely obliterates you in dodgeball

Can he aim? No. And Minho can't guard for shit; So you end up getting hit more than you probably should

He giggles at you running around the sidelines in an attempt to get back in the game, singing out "I'm sorry ~"

Takes videos of you running during the relay race because he just thinks it's so cute

Jeongin: Episode: Suspicious Lab [Ep 47-48]

He's supposed to be guessing voices but he hears you go, "Ahh - I sound so much different than all of you, this isn't fair!" in your high-pitched helium tone and bursts into laughter

Your experiment ended up breaking so you did Seungmin's after him, wearing the stimulation machine on one of your arms and trying to fold an airplane

He ends up taking the remote from Minho at some point because he's having too much fun with tormenting you and Jeongin can't stand it

Turns up the machine even more to see you squirm

Also cheats during the game where he had to try and ramp up your heart rate (He touches your ass to get a reaction out of you) and then denies it in a fit of laughter when you call him out to the staff

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek @pixie-felix @hwangjoanna @skzophreniic

@silly250

[stevishabitat]

Absolutely.

But keep in mind that companies have drunk the AI for customer service kool-aid so hard that in the past five years they have taken lean staffing to its absolute extreme.

There are no representatives anymore.

And those of us left are working beyond our capacity and have been doing so now since the original COVID quarantine when companies realized they could lower expectations into the basement and get away with it.

The purges came hard and fast and now budgets formerly used on human beings with actual skills are poured into the AI toilet. Because AI may suck at customer service, but at least it doesn't ask for health insurance, sick days, or shift differentials.

I love helping people, and I want to solve your problem, but I've been running on empty for so long I don't remember what it feels like not to be stressed and I'm expected to get through more calls and chats and emails daily than would have been tolerated at peak times just a few years ago.

And the people I used to go to behind the scenes to fix things in real time or maybe overnight have also been replaced with chatbots, phone trees that go nowhere, and online forms that create help tickets that nobody is around to look at.

So if it's not something I can fix myself, I have to submit a request and wait and hope that someone will get back to me in an unknown number of business days.

What late-stage capitalism looks like in customer service is companies knowing their service is shit, but because they could show on a spreadsheet that they saved some money in the second quarter by yet another mass layoff, the board of directors is happy and the shareholders are happy. And reputation with customers/the general public is nothing compared to making the Board happy.

Quality and Reputation mean less than nothing, and there's no one left to complain to.

one of the most infuriating things about becoming an adult is when you realize that it actually is 10x easier to solve problems by making a phone call vs literally any other communication method

[barbwritesstuff]

I'm struck with a sudden and unprovoked need to explain the romantic dynamics in Blood Moon and Thicker Than. I don't know why, and will not be taking questions at this time.

There are eight romanacable characters in Blood Moon.

Marco

Carrie

Vicky

Ed

Sergi

Shawnie

Roe

Farro

And nine in Thicker Than.

Tracy

Marcel

Erin

Nathan

Iliya

Freya

Ravima

Chris

Minjo

Starting with the werewolves...

Marco's whole shtick is the best friend. He's the goofy, kinda scrappy golden retriever guy who is fun, a little awkward, and prone to running his mouth. That dynamic doesn't change if you romance him. When it comes to the bedroom, he's super versatile. Top? Bottom? Rough? Gentle? Left? Right? No matter your preference, he's game.

Carrie brings the baggage so you don't have to. She needs a lot of love and understanding, especially at first, but if you're kind to her she'll let her guard down and open up. I wanted her dynamic with the MC to be all about that trust and that extends into the romantic and intimate scenes. Carrie's banter with the MC is her way of feeling safe... so yeah, that's in the sexy bits too.

Vicky is my Batman. Strong, stoic, silent... even when perhaps she shouldn't be. She's been through hell and back and her number one mission in life is to make sure no one she loves has to experience what she did. She also knows kungfu, because of course she does. Her romantic scenes are very, very gentle.

Ed is a sassy wee sweetheart. A genuinely good, and really smart guy who has to try so hard not to roll his eyes at the antics of some of the other werewolves. He's never dated anyone before, so the romantic dynamic is a little slower, a little sweeter, and a little softer. Because he's a virgin he'll set some boundaries in the bedroom. After all, he's still figuring it all out.

Sergi is a little late edition to the Blood Moon love interest roster. When I first invented the character, he was originally going to be way more of a background character than he ended up being. There's a bit of an age gap here, as Serge is a little older than the MC, and the relationship develops right at the end of the game. It's a kinda messy dynamic, a lot of trauma, helping each other recover through love, etc.

Shawnie is hot and she knows it. Curvy, sexy, playful, fun. Because the other female love interests lean a little bit bleaker, I wanted Shawnie to be for people who wanted a lighter, bubblier, more fun romance. That doesn't mean she's shallow or simple, but that she takes her fun where there is fun to be taken.

Roe is the alpha of the other pack and has some pretty intense feelings about power and being in charge. Expect some tussling in the bedroom. They've been an alpha for only a little while and have only recently started to realise how lonely it can be at the top. A lot of their romance is them realising they have that wall around themselves and figuring out how to navigate around it.

Farro is the only love interest in Blood Moon who is 'missable'. I.E. Depending on your choices, you may not meet him at all. He looks like a werewolf, even among werewolves, big and muscular with long hair and a beard. He's also a dad, a widower, and super introverted. However, behind closed doors, he's rather intense.

And now for the vampires (and non vampires) of Thicker Than...

Tracy is a bitch with a heart of gold. She's using you to escape the clutches of the cult that she's been trapped in for decades, and isn't quite sure if she can trust you either. But, despite all her sharp edges, she's the most ride-or-die person in the world. She needs some tenderness, but isn't shy about desire or romance.

Marcel does a really good job of acting the part of the scary, shadowy vampire lord, but the truth is, he's rather too easily charmed by plucky fledglings who push back against the system. He's also kinda a freak in the bedroom.

Erin is complicated. She's been fighting against the vampire court for decades and is a figurehead of the revolution... even though, in some ways, she doesn't really believe in it any more. I haven't written her intimate scenes yet, but the vibe I'm reaching for is a little messy, a little angry, just like she is. Also lowkey thinking of adding a threesome in with her and her human girlfriend in Chapter Four. I dunno.

Nathan is the vampire hunter, so if I had to give him a trope, it'd be enemies to lovers. He's kinda a badarse, but also really bad at looking after his own arse. He is, after all, catching feelings for a vampire. Also, he 100% doesn't get enough sunlight. The vibe is I-don't-know-if-I-should-kill-you-or-kiss-you.

Iliya is one big walking cliche, and that's why I love him. I wanted him to be the bodyguard romance, and he is that. He's also kind of a bastard in a I-will-betray-you-but-then-maybe-unbetray-you kinda way. Big, a little cheeky, and very hungry.

Freya is soft and kind and very trusting in almost every way. Unfortunately, that makes her a little (occasionally a lot) gullible. She wants to believe the best in people, even when sometimes it puts her in danger. My intension with her character was to contrast it with her witchy powers. She's a sucker, but she's also one of the most powerful necromancers alive (and is capable of consulting with some of the dead ones). Her romance is, like everything else about her, very soft and cosy. She will only use her powers on you if you're into it.

Ravima is perhaps my most classic vampire romance. They're dark, they're sinister, they're obsessed with art, with knowledge, with anything that will make immortality a little less boring. They also kinda want to eat you, but they also want to fuck you, and that's kinda the whole vibe.

Chris is my first (and last because oh holy hell the coding is hard) gender selectable love interest. They're only available to players who select the divorcee origin at the start of the game. That's because, they're the main character's ex spouse. Perhaps obviously, the romance route is very second chance romance.

Minjo has the weird honour of having the most Romeo and Juliet romance I've ever written. She's team werewolf, and you're a vampire. She's also a total MILF, and only available to characters who are also parents. Bond over being single and raising kids. I wanted to give her a dry sense of humour, and a down to earth sorta charm.

Anyway.

My number one goal with these romances was to make them all unique. I didn't want to copy paste the love scenes and change the names. I wanted them to all feel like different people and for their romance routes to feel different and unique to them. I don't know if I've fully achieved that. There's some that do overlap with each other, but I think I've managed to hit a few different spots on the love interest spectrum.

[linxnnalyn]

Furina being mistaken for her daughters older sister

࣪𖤐.ᐟ note -> I iust had to steal this form @hunnieknight I LOVE BABIES AND FURINA 🗣

࣪𖤐.ᐟ warnings -> none.

࣪𖤐.ᐟ content includes -> fluff, GN! reader, modern AU, cute and awkward situations, Furina both loves and hates it, reader finds it super funny, Furina is supposed to be 25+ in this she just looks young, yours and Furina’s daughter is in elementary school.

۫ ꣑ৎ Furina looks quite young even though she’s an adult woman so it is very often that people mistake your daughter to be her younger sister while on walks together. Furina always takes it as a compliment and sees it as a good thing—but only when passers by mistake her for an older sister.

۫ ꣑ৎ The school your daughter goes to often mistakes Furina for an older sister that the parents/guardians of the child send and every single time she has to say that she’s your daughter's mother. Furina complains about it to you every time she comes home because they wouldn’t take her seriously just because she looks young!

۫ ꣑ৎ Furina once had to sign a parent-teacher meeting that she had to go to because you couldn’t make it and when the teacher handed her the slip they told her to give it to her parents to sign it. She blinked in confusion for a full five seconds before realizing they were talking to her. That situation was enough to keep her fuming the whole ride home.

۫ ꣑ৎ One time while taking your daughter to the park, another parent struck up casual small talk and mentioned how sweet it was for Furina to spend time with her “little sister.” The way her eye twitched almost gave it away, but she held herself together long enough to correct them politely—then proceeded to rant in the car about how “immature clothes should not equal immature status.”

۫ ꣑ৎ The amount of times Furina heard comments behind her back from the other moms in your daughter's class about how she must have had your daughter when she was still in high school and how shameful that is. Furina is very hurt and offended by it but doesn’t make a scene just because she doesn’t want your daughter to see her yelling at the women.

۫ ꣑ৎ She once tried joining a group chat filled with the moms of your daughter's class and got removed by the admin because they thought she was a prank account pretending to be a parent. She had to send a full email explaining the situation before being let back in. She's still mad about the lowercase “sorry” she got in response.

۫ ꣑ৎ At a library event, a librarian handed your daughter two “Take Your Sister to Story Time” stickers. Furina stared at them in betrayal while your daughter proudly slapped one on her chest. You nearly had to walk away to keep from laughing.

۫ ꣑ৎ She wore a hoodie and sneakers once while running errands and someone handed her a “teen mom resource guide” pamphlet at a local parenting booth. She didn’t say anything. Just accepted the pamphlet with the blankest expression and crumpled it up very, very slowly once she got to the car. She hasn’t worn that hoodie since, but it looked cute on her :[

۫ ꣑ৎ There was once a parent-child costume event at school, and Furina went all out with a coordinated outfit. Multiple teachers took photos thinking it was an adorable sister-sister duo. She smiled for every one of them while silently combusting inside. You still tease her about it every Halloween.

۫ ꣑ৎ She both loves and hates being mistaken for your daughters older sister, while it is a compliment because she looks young enough to be her sister it is also quite annoying and tedious to explain over and over again that she is your daughters mother and that she’s an adult woman in her mid twenties.

[georgeclarkeys]

rude boy - wroetoshaw

summary: drunk harry is horrifically rude to everyone except for you - 900 words

everyone always talks about harry being a nasty drunk so i thought this was appropriate lol

hope y'all don't hate it!

~

Harry Lewis was a nice guy. He might be a bit awkward sometimes, and he tended to throw sarcastic comments around, but in his heart he was a good person. There did happen to be a slight exception to your boyfriend's kind heart, and it always seemed to be brought out under the influence of alcohol. Drunk Harry could be very mean, and you had seen it in action. 

Several years ago, the two of you had joined your friends on a ski trip. You were a few days late because Harry had some Sidemen business to attend to, but you made it nevertheless. Harry, deciding he had reason to celebrate, got incredibly wasted that night. You could only watch on in horror as he looked Chris’s poor girlfriend in the eyes and told her that no one would notice if she died. Obviously you jumped in, apologized profusely, and asked Will to help you remove Harry from the scene of the crime and get him up to bed. 

Every time Harry found himself under the influence of alcohol, it was always the same exact order of events. He would get drunk, he would say something shockingly rude, and then you would apologize for him until he could sober up and do it himself.  

Harry was less of a partier these days, and it had been a while since you had to apologize for him, but everyone still laughed about the memories of your horrible drunk boyfriend. 

Today, the two of you were at a Sidemen event. It was a little bit more lowkey, and definitely more exclusive than a big party, but the drinks were flowing and the music was bumping. Everyone else was stood around mingling, while you found yourself on the couch in the corner of the room. You were tucked into Harry’s side with a drink in your hand, feeling a little buzzed. Harry had one arm slung lazily over your shoulder, and the way that his eyes were slightly lidded told you that he was also feeling the liquor. Faith made her way over and joined you on the couch, excitedly suggesting that you join her and Sabina for lunch next week. Ethan trailed slowly behind her, wrapped up in a conversation with Freezy. By the time they made it over to the three of you, it took Ethan exactly three seconds to notice that Harry was tipsy. 

His eyes widened and he laughed, grabbing Faith’s arm, “Oh my God, babe, if Harry is as drunk as I think he is, I need you to get away from him right now.”

It was hard to understand Ethan through his booming laugh and the alcohol clouding your mind, but Harry’s response told you exactly what Ethan was talking about.

“I’m not drunk, you fat bastard,” he argued back, letting his hand drop from your shoulder to your waist as he pulled you closer to him. 

Faith looked as confused as ever, head swiveling between Ethan and Harry as they laughed with each other, “What are you on about?”

You jumped in to explain to your friend as the boys continued to trade insults, “In the past, Harry has had a tendency to be horribly rude while drinking. I can’t believe you haven't heard any stories.”

Faith’s response was cut short by your boyfriend shouting at her husband, “No one loves you, mate!”

Your eyes snapped up towards his and you slapped your hand over his mouth before he said anything else, “Harry!”

You turn your gaze to Ethan, who is red in the face from laughing so hard, “You know he doesn’t mean that.”

Faith is also laughing at this point, “Well that seemed a bit uncalled for,” she breathed out.

You turned back to Harry, who was laughing sheepishly, and sighed, “See what I mean?”

Ethan piped up, “Hold on a minute, (Y/N) you’ve been around drunk Harry so much, how has he not said anything to make you break up with him?”

“Harry is never mean to me while drinking. He might actually be nicer to me than normal,” you replied, causing Ethan to scrunch up his face. 

Harry gripped your hip tighter and pulled you into his lap, “Unfortunately for the rest of you, (Y/N) is perfect. I couldn't say something mean about her if I tried.” You turned your eyes toward his, and he met your gaze with a soft smile before pressing a kiss to your forehead. In classic Harry fashion, it took him about 30 seconds to ruin the moment. “Actually I thought of something. She takes all the fucking covers when we sleep. Ruins my evening sometimes.”

This sends Ethan into another fit of raucous laughter. You rolled your eyes at Harry, “You’re so annoying.”

~

Later that evening, the two of you were back at home getting ready for bed. Your boyfriend was already in your shared bed, leaned back against the headboard and waiting for you to join him. You finished up the last step of your nighttime routine before sliding into bed next to him. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his chest.

“Not giving you any opportunity to steal the covers tonight, you’re staying right here,” he mumbled into your ear.

“Go to sleep, you absolute dork,” you muttered back, before drifting off in the comfort of his arms.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ - the next morning

yourusername posted a story!

[julietcpulet]

LN 5 epilogue: The moment, the aftermath and the anime.

I’ve seen people being concerned for how things will be portrayed if the anime makes it to the LN 5 epilogue where Jinshi and Maomao have their undoubtedly most intense moment of the series. If the anime gets renewed for a season 3 it’ll have to cover this as the first two seasons have done 4 light novels so if we get even one more it’ll be expected to make through light novel 6, which is great material. Do I expect that some people are going to see Jinshi’s behavior as toxic, assault and the like? Yup, probably ramped up 1,000% from the frog scene even. Do I think the anime will tone it down from the light novel? Yes I do. They’ve added things here and there to other scenes and in ways I think it’s helped, with that moment and its nuances I don’t see them going all the way there. Also, there’s lots of fan debate on translation so I wouldn’t be surprised if the animators take a light tone just to keep from siding one way or another on how it was translated. That being said, here’s why I’m not that worried even if the whole scene is shown: because sometimes we need the messy moments for the growth to happen. (Spoilers under the cut)

First, some perspective. An analysis on the moment itself.

People can argue that this one moment in Jinmao history is a bit too messy but I don’t think so. For one, I don’t think Jinshi was truly trying to hurt Maomao. Yes we see him put his hand on her throat and pull her hand behind her back, however he quickly releases both, his one hand to twine in her hair and the other to pull her closer when he kisses her. The point of both was to get her attention. This scene starts out in a somewhat similar fashion to the frog scene but it is much more of a breaking point for the two of them than that. Just like with the frog scene, Jinshi has something vital he wants to communicate with Maomao. The whole reason for her being there is that she’s a marriage candidate, she is even wearing a hair stick Jinshi had made specifically for her, one with a moon and a poppy. (Moon Prince and the girl who likes poison, since poppies represent poison, anyone?) But when they begin talking on this subject Maomao, like before and always, evades and won’t admit she knows she’s his real choice for a wife and this is a proposal. Instead she even has the audacity to suggest he marry Lishu, who at this point even Maomao knows has feelings for Basen and wouldn’t be a good choice for Jinshi given her nature and his. To me it’s this continual evasiveness that gets Jinshi to grab her attention again by putting his hands on her in a more aggressive manner. For Maomao though, we’re finally given a glimpse at why her responses are likely instinctual over emotional and why she appears to almost “shut down” in the face of an advance. It’s because we see that her brain has been taught to view everything from the perspective of the pleasure district, she even later says she was “indoctrinated”. Horrifyingly, her sisters subjected her to sexual conduct when she was young to learn the ways of a courtesan to the point of tears and so when she’s in a situation where anything sexual happens she doesn’t see it as an opportunity to express herself but instead to retreat and only find a way to gain the upper hand.

Remember too that Maomao admits from the beginning that Jinshi “isn’t the type who would lay a hand on a young woman” and this doesn’t make her change her opinion. She even says out loud when he says “I wasn’t actually going to hit you”, “I know.” She can jump around his actions but knows whatever he’s doing isn’t about hurting her, it’s about getting a reaction out of her, which is why she denies him that satisfaction. We see once Maomao takes any kind of initiative Jinshi backs off, showing his only real goal was to have her show any reciprocation towards him at all. Especially when we see his perspective at the beginning of LN 6 where he’s looking back on the interaction and realizes Maomao’s detachment, we understand what he wants from her is not simply sexual engagement. He wants her to feel something and not be “like trying to shove a curtain…simply roll with it.” To me this expresses why it’s not “assault” in that Jinshi wasn’t trying to harm, harass or have sex with Maomao. He releases her when he thinks she’s kissing him back and his excitement over the interaction is over when he sees her face and realizes that she was completely devoid of feeling like usual and just playing along to whatever end she thought was expected of her.

Why is this pivitol for Jinmao? Understanding them. Growth.

Because it’s where we finally get to see why these two cannot seem to get on the same page about love or mutual feelings. Without it they’d just keep doing the same old push / pull song and dance forever. The quote before he reaches behind her head gives us a clue to all of it.

“That word, that simple four-letter word with its o and its e, was sometimes called vulgar, and sometimes turned out to be nothing more than a game- but some people said it was impossible to live without.”

Maomao is talking about love, what she sees in Jinshi’s eyes, what she’s trying to avoid and how we’re supposed to see them both playing it as a game because right now they can’t see it as anything else just yet. If you read on into LN 6 we see that Jinshi’s whole goal was basically to “triumph over” or to get a rise out of Maomao in some way, which he miserably admits he failed at. She remained unmoved and defeated him soundly. But that’s the whole point of this moment between these two is to show that they’re both still viewing love this way, as a “game” where one side has to win and have the upper hand to be successful. It’s why Jinshi tries to push Maomao to show him emotion and then Maomao is the one to have “victory” in the end by using what her sisters taught her but with absolutely no feeling behind it. Even during their interaction we get a glimpse that Maomao seems pleased Jinshi was jealous she had been dancing with Rikuson, “So he had been watching them!” (To me meaning she wanted him to notice.) So there may not be complete lack of feeling on her part, just a twisted sense that it has to be manipulated. Jinshi’s view of love comes from watching palace women and men play political games for affection and status. Maomao sees love as dangerous and deceptive, many times the only form of it leading to harm and abandonment in the pleasure district. So both of them have no real concept what it means to love someone other than to try and get one over on the other, it’s about power, control and hiding what you actually want. Without this understanding on our part, as the readers and audience, that Jinshi and Maomao have troubled histories and a distorted view of love, we would just see the way they handle one another as abusive. You need this scene and others like it to get a glimpse into how they actually operate, what they're hiding and what the aftermath does for them.

From the moment to the aftermath, where change happens.

It's in the aftermath we see real change for the two of them. Jinshi realizes he was conceited and a part of him believing that because others respond to him favorably he could get Maomao to do the same. Maomao doesn’t evade him in the same way as before either. Yes when they reunite in LN 6 Jinshi still offers her an antler and they engage in their typical back and forth complete with Maomao trying to reason herself out of being Jinshi’s choice but it’s lighthearted and both are far less intense. Maomao’s want to rationalize Jinshi’s choice as purely political without feeling helps her reason why he might want to pick her. It gives us a glimpse at her self esteem being so low that she has to say “He’s got strange tastes, though” to understand why Jinshi would pick her over other women she’d consider more desirable to him. It’s telling too that Maomao is quoted as thinking,

“Maybe he was hoping she would come right out and say she loved him, but quite frankly, Maomao wasn’t at a point where she could bring those words to her lips. The best she could manage was that she wasn’t without a certain affection for him."

It’s telling because 1. It says she isn’t at that point she can bring the words to her lips, not that she doesn’t feel love for him. 2. It still states clearly she has affection for him. This goes to show that Jinshi’s prodding can have an effect on Maomao. Being the kind of shut down person she is due to her background, she in effect can almost need someone like Jinshi who’s willing to push her outside her comfort zone to get her to admit to feelings she’s unwilling or even at times unable to fully voice. Even in the next moments where he tickles her and she lightly objects but lets him, it allows even more walls between the two to be bridged. It’s not aggressive like what happens in the LN 5 epilogue but more like what two true lovers might do in playfully getting to know one another. And it still proves the most effective way in getting Maomao to open up because their conversation here leads to the first real confession Maomao makes about her true fear and it’s made as clear as it can be that it’s not marrying Jinshi himself but that in doing so she doesn’t want to become Gyokuyou’s enemy. This revelation by Maomao sets off a lot of what happens in the next novels for them and it wouldn’t have happened had Jinshi not pushed Maomao to stop ignoring she was a marriage candidate and instinctively shutting him out. By letting Jinshi in, not hiding what she’s actually thinking, even this little bit, he takes that knowledge and tries to do all in his power to keep her from being afraid of a future where they’re together. But without the moment in the garden of the LN 5 epilogue there would be no Maomao opening up and no Jinshi realizing he needs to do what he can, not to prove his feelings to her but to prove it’s possible they can work and she won’t be in a tough position.

"For you, I will remove every obstacle that keeps us apart. One day. Just know that." - "I won't let what you fear come to pass. I swear it."

An important detail: star crossed lovers.

I think this quote that occurs just before the LN 5 epilogue moment is important to mention because it ties into a theme that becomes relevant with Maomao and Jinshi going forward, that of the star-crossed lovers.Maomao is looking up at the dark sky and it’s possibly one of the most romantic observations she makes. Some may say I’m reading too much into this but if you’ve read Hyuuga’s novels you’ll know the details are where are the goodies are.

“The sky seemed so vast. There was no moon, making the stars to shine all the brighter. Three of them shone brightest of all. Perhaps those stars were the two lovers, and the river that separated them.”

This is likely referencing the myth of Altair & Vega, those are their western names but it’s a Chinese ancient myth about a celestial princess who falls in love with a mortal and they end up being placed as stars in the sky, separated by the Milky Way only able to see one another on occasional days (that’s my brief description, worth looking up if you want to know more). So I don’t think it’s coincidence at all Maomao references the stars being two lovers (Jinshi & Maomao) and the river that separates them (likely the empire or even Gyokuyou because she keeps requesting Maomao at her side.) I don’t think it’s that far a stretch to make. And this comes before they have this intense, highly charged moment in the garden as almost lovers. Completely misunderstanding each other yes, hence the river between them they have yet to cross but I think that’s why nothing can be taken at such face value here because even a quote like this can add such depth. Hyuuga does this again with the star-crossed lovers motif in LN 6 where in the same antler scene she has Maomao notice Jinshi looking at the book that falls and it’s Romeo & Juliet. How this relates to the LN 5 scene is that the star-crossed lovers are mired in tragedy, misunderstandings, missed opportunity. But as we see in LN 6 with the moment Maomao & Jinshi speak about Romeo & Juliet is they both agree about wishing for a different ending (I talk about this in another post). So my thought here is without the LN 5 epilogue, without having them be the stars separated by the river, having them face these difficulties, we also wouldn’t get the ending they’re both working so hard towards.

Finally, the anime: striking a balance.

So why should we actually look forward to a moment like the one in LN 5 being shown in the anime? Because it's not just about that moment but about everything it represents and leads to for these characters. Without this singular moment that's fraught with so much unresolved tension, feelings and decisions, Jinshi and Maomao would've never been pushed to discuss what needed to be between one another. They've both had too messy of upbringings to do so in any natural way. Maomao almost needs Jinshi to needle her to get her out of her self-imposed shell and he likewise needs Maomao to shut him down sometimes to prove his conceited notions aren't always on course. But without a moment like this we wouldn't have gotten a truth from Maomao that leads to down the road her admittance that she's merely afraid her feelings are too lukewarm compared to Jinshi's.

"It was a heat like molten metal. She wasn’t sure what to do with it all for the temperature she could return was no more than that of lukewarm water."

In effect showing that it's her sense of inferiority keeping them apart more than it is a lack of actual desire on either side. With the anime, I expect them to strike a reasonable balance. There's too much internal monologue that I don't think they'll be able to capture it all. The frog scene for me showed they were able to walk that tight rope between intense behavior and romantic advancement like the scene is meant to convey so if it would be the same team handling the garden scene I'm not worried at all. I think the anime's that are willing to stick to the canon, regardless of plots that may seem a bit edgy or not fit within modern standards, tend to be the best ones. So far Apothecary Diaries anime has stuck closely to the light novels and I would be surprised if we got to this moment and they deviated too much, they've handled much darker topics than this. I worry more about people's reactions to it but even then I anticipate the arguments that will coming along, hence this long winded explanation haha.

In truth, were this reality, would I recommend a girl friend stay with a guy like Jinshi, no I wouldn’t but I also wouldn’t recommend and guy friend stay with someone like Maomao who never listens and eats poison. Sometimes people take the fun out of watching two characters who are close to reality but don’t live in it play out an interesting story. I fully expect people won’t get the nuance in that scene and even I could read too much into it myself but I’m just looking forward to more seasons if we get them. However the anime decides to portray it should be good if we get there and I hope my analysis has made sense, even if it’s a bit long as always 😂.

[astraljedi]

I can't find a pulse My heart won't start anymore (Frank Castle Imagine)

Request: Did you watch DDBA season finale? I need a scene where reader arrives in the car with Karen after Matt and Frank jump from the apartment. Maybe since Matt calls shotgun, reader sits in the back with Frank and the last time they saw each other they hooked up

Pairing: Frank Castle x Female Reader

Warnings: Mention of blood, open wounds, cursing, smutty flashback scenes, this does not have a happy ending (sorry)

Word Count: 4.3K

Song: You're Losing Me by Taylor Swift

a/n: I started writing this and suddenly my direction for it change completely, oops. This is loosely based on DDBA Episode 9, but I ended up changing the ending (because this is fanfiction and I can).

- I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier Fighting in only your army Frontlines, don't you ignore me

Courtesy of the city-wide blackout, darkness swallows up my quiet apartment. I fumble through my storage closet, the weak flashlight from my phone barely illuminating anything as I try to find the battery-powered candles I know I stashed somewhere.

“Fuck this,” I groan, dropping to the cold floor with a thud, my back hitting the hallway wall. Just as I start contemplating whether I could survive the night in complete darkness, my phone vibrates. “Karen” flashes across the screen.

 I bring the phone up to my ear. “Hi, gorgeous,” I answer.

“Are you home? I’m on my way to pick you up,” Karen says quickly. I hear her curse, followed by a sharp blast of her car horn. I wince and pull the phone away from my ear.

“Yea—”

“It’s urgent. I’m four minutes away,” she cuts in. “It’s Matt. He needs us.”

The second she says his name, I’m on my feet. I grab my things and dash out of the apartment, I place the call on speaker and use my flashlight to guide myself down the flight of stairs

“Two minutes,” Karen says through the call, keeping me posted. 

“I’m outside,” Out of breath I step onto the chaotic street. Helicopters roar over the city, car horns blare from every direction. I hear people screaming, smashing car windows and I beg for Karen to pull up soon before the chaos reaches me.

Karen pulls up fast and hard, tires screeching seconds later and I sprint to the passenger side, barely managing to close the door before she slams her foot on the gas. 

“Where is he?” I ask, panic clear in my voice.

“His apartment.”

“What? I thought he was in the hospital.” I glance at her, my gut twisting. The blackout’s only made the streets worse, but we’re not far.

“I’ll explain later.” Karen’s eyes are fixed on the road, but I can tell she’s hiding something. She’s fighting her hardest to keep her lips sealed, her brows furrowing together. 

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t look at me like that,” she adds.

“Just spit it out, Karen.” I demand. 

“It’s also Frank,” she sighs, not able to keep it in for long. 

My stomach drops. I stare at her, not saying a word. 

Frank.

I haven’t seen him since the night we were tangled in my bed sheets. Our never ending cycle fueling the tiny spark that was left. 

I thought I’d finally tamed the spark, but Frank Castle doesn’t let you put out the flames. He is the fire. The oxygen. The thing that keeps it alive, even when he doesn't even try. 

He will alway try to push me away but the flame always remains. 

Frank is the man who picks up the broken pieces of my heart. He builds it up, structures the pieces perfectly for him to smash it back to pieces like a sandcastle he worked so hard on building. He always leaves, and I’m always the one left behind, stupidly clutching to his empty words and promises. 

“What?” I whisper, leaning my head against the headrest, my chest already pounding. Just hearing his name sets everything inside me on fire.

Karen parts her lips like she wants to say more, but an explosion goes off—loud and nearby. I grab her free hand, our minds in sync.

Please let them be okay, I beg—whether to God or the universe, I don’t know.

We turn the corner and spot Matt and Frank in the street. Karen and I both sigh, out of relief at the sight of them. I exhale shakily as Karen and I step out of the car. I crunch down on shattered glass, our eyes rising to Matt’s apartment in flames.

“Get in,” Karen orders, her voice calm but I know the adrenaline is rushing through her body. Just like mine. 

“Shotgun,” Matt mutters, wincing as he holds his side.

I walk up to Matt, letting him lean on me. I don’t acknowledge Frank at first, my eyes stay fixed on the floor while walking to the car. I guide Matt into the passenger seat, the blood from his injuries smudging my fingers. When I turn around, Frank’s already holding the back door open, waiting for me. 

He doesn’t say anything, his lips tightly shut. I glance up at him and I regret instantly. His dark unreadable eyes tracking every move.

I slide in without a word, pressing myself against the opposite side of the car. He gets in after me, knees spread, taking up space like he always does. His knee brushes mine, and I pretend not to notice—even when Karen hits a pothole and the jolt makes our skin connect again. That same electricity sparks and settles beneath my skin.

The silence is loud. The chaos of the city seeps in through the windows—sirens, shouting, the distant rumble of helicopters. 

I keep my gaze on the window, but I can feel his eyes still on me. I sit stiffly, forcing slow breaths through my nose, trying to calm the tremble in my hands. I place them gently on my thighs, hoping that they stop before I make a fool out of myself. 

But my heart resists to calm down, each beat slamming relentlessly against my chest like it's about to jump out.  

Frank’s safehouse is a mess—guns on the table, loose bullets in trays, knives stacked beside open boxes, and God knows how many other weapons scattered everywhere. The scent of him hits me the moment I step in—smoke and leather. A scent I’ve spent time scrubbing off me and my apartment. 

Matt and Karen sit on the other side of the room, sitting on some foldable chairs while she focuses on cleaning the wound on Matt’s chest gently.

Across from them, Frank rips a suture kit open with his teeth and pulls the neck of his shirt to study the open wound.

“Let me help,” I say quietly, my voice softer than before—calmer, somehow. Maybe because I’m too exhausted to keep up with our game. 

Or maybe because looking at him bloody and bruised—pulls all the fight out of me.

He doesn’t hesitate, he leans back on the chair and hands me the already-threaded needle. At this point in our relationship—if we can even call it that—he trusts me enough to stitch him up. 

This is something I’ve done for years now, always looking after him. Countless late nights of him limping into my apartment bleeding. Only for me to panic and lecture him while guiding him to the couch. 

“That’s it,” he says, watching me patch the torn-up skin on his hip. My eyes are wide, focused, like I’m trying to memorize how to breathe through it. “You’re a natural, sweetheart.”

His praise settles something wild in my chest. I try to breathe steady, but my hands are trembling.

When I finish the last stitch, I finally let out the breath I didn’t even know I was holding. His hand moves to my face, fingers warm against my skin as he cups my cheek. His thumb brushes over my jaw, softly.

“Next time, you’re gonna be a pro,” he murmurs, then leans in and presses a kiss—gentle, lingering—on the corner of my mouth.

I chuckle, shaking my head like I’m not spiraling on the inside. “Don’t make it a habit.”

A sharp groan from Frank snaps me back. I press the cloth against his injury—harder than I need to but I don’t apologize. 

Frank Castle can feel pain after all.

My eyes stay glued to the wound, watching the thread slip through the torn skin. 

But I don’t look at him, I remind myself that this is still the man who left before dawn. No explanation with no goodbye. Too cowardly to call it off for once and for all for both our sakes.

From across the room, I hear Karen’s voice, low and comforting as she murmurs to Matt. The sound of the needle moving through Frank’s skin mixes with the buzz of a police radio filling the silence.

Then Matt’s voice cuts in. “You called Frank, huh?”

Karen hesitates. “I heard Poindexter escaped. Called Frank and hopped on a plane.”

“What about her?” Matt adds.

My hand stills for a second, eyes flicking toward them. They don’t notice, but Frank shifts beside me. He’s listening, too.

Karen mumbles something I can’t make out—but Frank hears it, his body stiffening from her answer.

I tie the final knot with more force than necessary and pull the last stitch tight. Frank winces, his hand shooting out to grab my arm on reflex. I hold the cloth to his skin one last time and then set the needle and thread down on the table. It’s his mess to clean up. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Frank says, voice low and rough.

Karen looks over. “Everything okay over there?”

Frank sighs. “Never been better.” He gets up, brushing past me—his knuckles graze my thigh longing for something he won’t let himself indulge in.

I bite the inside of my cheek hard, chewing my words down.

He moves to the small kitchen, grabs a pill bottle and crunches a few of them in his mouth. “Who wants a cup of coffee?”

“Got any oat milk?” Matt stands up, already half-dressed in his suit.

Frank chuckles and hands us a cup of black coffee—no milk, no sugar. Bitter and hot. 

I take a sip and move to stand next to Karen. 

“So… he went after Matt Murdock. Not Daredevil,” she says finally. “That’s bold. Even for Fisk.”

Matt hesitates. “Listen to me. Turns out it was a hit…” He swallows hard. “On Foggy.”

“Holy shit,” Karen and I say at the same time.

“Vanessa Fisk hired Poindexter to take him out.”

Karen’s already fighting tears. “Why?”

“I think there’s something in the motion he was about to file,” Matt explains, jaw clenched. “He was moving to dismiss the case,and Vanessa made sure he never got to it. I think maybe I missed something back then.”

I drain the rest of my coffee and set the empty cup on a cluttered spot on the counter. “Aren’t the files in storage?”

“That’s right,” Matt says. “Can you guys be my eyes?”

“Always,” Karen answers without hesitation.

They start gathering their things, barely saying another word. I do the same—sling my bag over my shoulder, but my feet won’t move.

I look at Frank at his little workstation, gathering his gear and loading bullets quietly. 

“You coming, Frank?” Karen asks.

“Got shit to do,” he mutters, not looking up.

Matt tries to warn him—Fisk is coming, and it’s only a matter of time. But Frank doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t respond. Just keeps loading his gun.

Eventually, they give up. Karen grabs what’s left and heads for the door and Matt follows her. 

But I stay, feet glued to the ground.

“Don’t do it, Frank,” I say. My voice is raspier than I expect.

He doesn’t look at me. “It’s not up for debate.”

The lump in my throat that I’ve been choking down all night finally rises.

“Just like how you left me that night?” I snap. “You fuck me, then disappear without a word—like I was just a little plaything for you to use and throw away.”

His dark and emotionless eyes finally lift to mine, studying me while the words weighed heavy on his tongue. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, “I’m not the guy you created in your pretty little head.”

My lips part, in disbelief. His words tear through me—and suddenly I’m the one who needs stitching.

His words echo in my head and I laugh bitterly in disbelief while I walk towards the door. I throw it open and slam it behind me, the metal frame rattling loud and harsh.

I don’t even hear it.

“…Stay safe,” Frank mutters behind the door, shaking his head.

He had to do it, he had to break me. 

My fist clench on my side and I see Matt and Karen standing at the end of the hallway. But neither of them dare say a word. Karen won’t meet my eyes, and Matt’s trying his hardest not to say something I’m not ready to hear.

And I try not to think about how Matt could probably hear my heart shatter the moment Frank said those words. I walk past them without looking back. Because if I look at them—if I let Karen’s pitying eyes find mine—I’ll break.

The storage unit is dark, only the light from the moon through the window and our flashlights hellp us look over the unit. I should be focused on combing through the files, looking for Foggy’s motion that has to be somewhere in these dusty boxes. But my mind keeps wandering—lingering somewhere else. To someone else.

His fingers slip downwards, getting coated by my juices instantly. “My poor thing, no one knows how to please you like I do.” “Frank,” I whimper, as his fingers circle my clit.

“You okay?”

Matt’s voice is low, careful—just barely louder than the rustling of paper and thuds of boxes being shifted around. Karen keeps her eyes fixed on a file, but I can tell she’s listening now too, her ears perk up. “Your heart is drumming hard again.” 

I blink, and glance up at Matt. His head’s tilted slightly, something he does when he’s focusing on the sounds around him.

“Again?” I give up on the file in my hand and shove it back into the box. Some old tax thing. Not what we need.

“It spiked when you were fighting,” he says softly. “And also now.”

Karen looks over from her corner and raises an eyebrow. “God, that is really not fair,” she mutters under her breath.

I try to act normal, like he didn’t just read me to filth—but my hands betray me. A box slips through my grasp and slams on the floor.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“You heard his too?” Karen asks, pointing her flashlight to another box.

“Oh yeah,” Matt says calmly. I swallow hard and crouch down to gather the scattered files off the floor.

“I’m sure it was the adrenaline,” I offer, trying to sound collected. But my voice comes out higher and a little too defensive.

Matt backs down and doesn’t argue back.  He just goes back to his box. 

“Hey, this is it.” Karen strains a bit as she pulls out a heavy box from one of the shelves. “A year and a half ago.” The box thuds when she sets it down.

“Here, let me help,” I offer, grabbing the flashlight from her and holding it steady so she can see.

“Yes! Okay, here’s the motion Foggy filed,” she says, pulling out a thick manila file.

“Good work, Karen Page,” Matt praises, stepping closer.

Karen flips it open. “Foggy was going to argue that…” She trails off, eyes skimming the page. “Whoa.”

She keeps reading. “Due to the unique nature of the Red Hook Port Location, no crime was committed in New York state or even the United States of America. Therefore, the court has no jurisdiction to prosecute.”

“What?” Matt’s brows pinch. 

“There’s a photocopy,” I say, reaching over to pull out the paper that’s halfway slipping from underneath. “Red Hook Charter, 1855. Holy crap. It’s a free port.”

“Exempt from the jurisdiction of the city,” Matt mutters. “and the country for that matter.”

“What would that have to do with the Fisks?” Karen asks, looking at Matt.

Matt exhales, slow and heavy. “Vanessa has used the port to store art for years now. I mean, if it’s a free port, she’s doing it without customs, without taxation, without fear of seizure.”

“She could launder money legally,” Karen says, stunned.

“Wow. That sneaky motherfucker,” I mutter under my breath.

Matt nods, voice low. “This is about the Fisks building their own city-state.”

Karen starts closing the files carefully. I reach for my bag, tossing it over my shoulder as I grab my flashlight.

“Let’s go see what they’re hiding,” Matt says, already halfway to the door.

When Karen drops me off, the street is calmer than last night from the havoc that broke out from the blackout. My neighbors and the local store owners are out sweeping debris, the air thick with tension from the mayor’s call for martial law.

I unlock my apartment, and the pale pink glow of sunrise pours through the windows like none of last night even happened. Like we didn’t just unravel the reason Foggy was targeted twelve hours ago. 

I peel off my jacket, kick off my shoes, and head straight for the kitchen. I’m too tired to think, too wired to crash. I just need something in my stomach before my head crashes on my pillow for the rest of the day. Sleep feels like the only escape I’ve got, the only way to try and push Frank’s voice out of my head.

I reach up to grab a cereal box and a bowl, the perfect lazy breakfast. I open the fridge and grab the milk carton, but the second I shut the door, a voice startles me.

“Got some coffee, sweetheart?”

I spin around so fast the room tilts and the carton slips from my hand, crashing to the floor. The cold liquid flooding the tiles around my feet. 

Frank is on the floor, bloody and horribly beaten.

He’s slumped against the wall, one hand pressed over his ribs, clearly in pain—but still somehow smirking through the mess of his split lip and bruised face like nothing.

“Frank,” I breathe, the mess forgotten as I drop to my knees beside him. My hands hover, desperate to help but terrified of hurting him more. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I didn’t want to ruin your couch,” he mutters.

A strangled laugh escapes me. “Now I have to get rid of this rug.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay. I got it for cheap at a thrift shop.” I shrug, I need a new rug anyways. 

“No.” He shakes his head, wincing as he tries to sit up straighter. I start to stand, to look for the first aid kit, but he catches my wrist before I can move away.

“You’re not a plaything,” he says. “You’re more to me than what I can express.”

I freeze, but I don’t pull away from his grasp. “Can we not do this right now?” I swallow back a sob, looking away from him. 

“I didn’t mean it. You know me.”

“Do I?” I say, raising my voice. “Because sometimes, for a second, I think maybe this is it. Maybe he’s finally giving me his all. And then you’re gone before I even realize what’s happening.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Come on,” I say, wrapping his arm over my shoulder, bracing myself under his weight. “Let’s get you up.”

He stumbles, groaning with every movement, but I manage to carry him to the bathroom. I push the door open with my shoulder and ease him down onto the wooden stool by the tub. My hands are trembling as I twist the faucet, waiting for the water to heat up—warm enough to soothe his muscles.

The silence in the room hangs heavy between us, but his eyes stay on me, tracking every step I take.

I kneel in front of him and grab the scissors. There’s no way I’m asking him to lift his arms, not with the state he’s in. I cut through his shirt carefully, revealing a mess of bruises and cuts that make my stomach twist.

“Jesus, Frank,” I murmur.

I reach for the first aid kit, my hands moving on quickly. I start with the dried blood on his chest, cleaning each wound slowly. He winces under my touch, but I try my best to be gentle and not cause him any more pain. 

When I finish, I rise and step between his legs. I lift his chin, tilting his face toward the light. My fingers graze his swollen lip, his scraped cheekbones. His hands settle on my hips, holding on as I clean him up. 

Once I’m done, I help him to his feet, bracing him again as I unbuckle his belt. My eyes flick up to his. “This okay?” I ask, and he nods.

I undress him carefully, and help him into the tub. He sinks into the water with a grunt, letting it pull the weight from his bones. His eyes fall closed as his back hits the cold wall, and I sit at the edge of the tub, dipping the sponge into the warm water before running it slowly over his shoulders.

The water clouds pink with leftover blood, and my hand moves to his chest—his heartbeat steady beneath my touch. The same place I used to lay my head. The same place that used to make me feel safe, but I don't know if that place is meant for me anymore. 

I let my fingers linger, the sponge discarded to the side and forgotten. My hands move slower, softer, over the places I used to kiss him and never get tired of.

And just for a moment, I let myself feel it all. The weight of everything I’ve been carrying. The ache that never really goes away. The sharp sting of anger and heartbreak. And the love I try so hard for him to accept, to let me in all the way. 

Tears slip down my cheeks. I try to hide it, keep my sniffles quiet, but he notices. 

His eyes open, and his hand comes up to wipe my tears away. I lean into his touch, even though part of me wants to push it away.

“Talk to me,” he says.

“I didn’t think we would find ourselves like this again,” I admit.

“I thought you wouldn’t let me in,” he replies, his voice rough.

“That’s never been the problem. That’s why we keep ending up here, stuck in this cycle.” I pull away from his touch, but he grabs my hand before I can go far, squeezing it tightly. “I’m just tired of this, Frank.”

He doesn’t interrupt. He just listens.

“I don’t care about flowers or fancy dinners or anniversary gifts. That’s not what I want. I want mornings and nights with you. I want the little things—the moments when I’m trying to pick a fight with you because I’m being a brat and stubborn, and you diffuse the bomb with a kiss or a joke or by just… being the version you only let me see.”

His mouth tugs up in the corner, a soft and familiar smile. 

“You love flowers,” he says, and it makes me laugh through the tears. “Don’t try to act like you don’t,” he adds with a low chuckle, wincing as it pulls on his ribs.

“I do,” I admit, then pause. “But I love—” The words catch in my throat, and I look away again. “I need to know you won’t leave. That you won’t shut me out. I need you to fight for me the way I keep fighting for you.”

I don’t wait for his reply. I stand up from the tub, my fingers slipping from his hand. I grab a towel and help him stand slowly, carefully, easing him out of the tub. I hand him the towel and step out of the bathroom, needing a little space—just a few seconds to breathe before the weight of everything drags me under again.

In my room, I pull the bedsheets down and place a change of clothes at the end of the bed. One of his old t-shirts, the soft one that somehow still smells like him, and the sweatpants I stole from him and refuse to give back.

When he walks in, towel slung low on his hips, my storm-filled eyes meet his. His gaze locked on me as he grabs the sweatpants and carefully slides them on. I step closer, press my hands gently to his chest, and push him to sit on the edge of the bed. I grab the t-shirt and help him pull it over his head, mindful of the fresh stitches on his shoulder.

Do something, babe. Say something. Lose something, babe, risk something. Choose something, babe, I got nothing 

“Get some rest,” I murmur, helping him ease down into the mattress.

“Baby—” His hand catches my wrist before I can walk away. His grip is loose, but it stops me in my tracks. “I can try. But you have to be patient with me.”

I swallow hard, blinking up at the ceiling before I meet his eyes again. “I’ve been patient all this time, Frank,” I say quietly. “For years I’ve been the one picking up after us. Looking after you when you’re hurt—even when you hurt me first. I need you to do more than try”

“There’s things I have to work out and fix first,” he mutters.

“This is what I’m saying,” I breathe. “You always have something first. There’s always something before me.” I force the lump in my throat down, even though it burns.

He hesitates, but he lets my hand go.

“I’m never going to be your first choice, Frank. This was meant to fail and break from the beginning.”

My voice betrays me while I try to fight back the tears. I hate it—how it makes me sound like I’m begging. When I’m already done with trying and fighting for something that keeps bruising me.

Still, I pull the blanket over his chest, and I lean down and press a kiss to his forehead, maybe for the last time.

Then I turn and walk toward the door. “Good night, Frank.”

I can't find a pulseMy heart won't start anymore

[confusedgoldenflower]

Yup this!👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻

To expand on the tragedy of female characters, OBVIOUSLY audiences regardless of sex and gender will enjoy the actual characters over “sexy lamps.”

Of course people ship Victor Frankenstein with his buddy over his actual fucking fiancé because what the fuck is she. [Insert more examples.]

Of course the real, palpable relationships of the males will be expanded on over the walking “he’s not gay” excuse, even if they do attempt and fail to develop her further than the one male’s character.

Of course the stereotype will remain that and only be a nuisance in fan work by people who don’t understand yet and/or who are misogynists or aren’t willing to go through all that work.

And when those female characters DO have speaking roles, what do they talk about? LOVE! SEX! THE MAN! Stupid shit and not anything to develop them or their character, really, besides being a sex object or an object of appeal! Or tool in his characterization!

The point about OCs, that makes so much sense and I feel that a lot of the Mary Sue accusations are just speed-developing the female chara to match the male(s)! As many are post canon or shoehorned in the middle-ish. The males are developed and shit is going down, at any rate.

But I don’t for a second believe the “well, I’m a man, I can’t write female characters.” You can’t write humans? Really? You’re only able to write dick-ed characters that are socialized as male? No, you’re misogynistic and haven’t even attempted to unlearn that shit, cowering behind it as an excuse of your laziness. (Poor female writers also do this, they’re also lazy misogynists.)

Having a penis or uterus (or anything else and in between) does not impact the character, their characterisation or development, their bodily functions are just different and it’ll really only come to factor in sex scenes or other scenes about bodily functions for as far as those areas are involved (i.e. menses, infections, doctor visits, catheters, procedures, etc).

Writing the “opposite” sex (or your own, since many female writers are disappointments) is very simple: you write a character as normal… and they just so happen to have different parts!

Yeah, I got a bit salty at the writers, please excuse.

It just kills me when writers create franchises where like 95% of the speaking roles are male, then get morally offended that all of the popular ships are gay. It’s like, what did they expect?

[d1gitalwitness]

lesbians yearning across continents? it happened in the wheel of time

I think the one thing we have not appreciated enough about The Wheel of Time is how lesbian desire is so present. It is not only visible in scenes with Siuan and Moiraine, but we also get to see them miss each other and yearn for each other while apart. As Sophie Okonedo has said, the love they have for each other is always there, eternal and transcendent. I haven't never seen anything quite like it on television.

When Moiraine finally returns to the tower after two years, she yearns for Siuan by looking at their matching ter'angreals. Excellent build-up by the writers because we do not yet know what this means yet. (1x05)

Siuan looking at their matching ter'angreals after Moiraine visits her in a dream and bids her farewell. She also looks at a drawing of Moiraine while tearing up. (3x08)

Moiraine whispering Siuan's name while on the verge of death and smiling so stupidly to herself (1x03)

Moiraine in tears while writing a letter to Siuan to let her know that she has been stilled - her failure at the eye of the world is akin to failing Siuan, and breaking her promise to her that they will retire by the river. Yes, it was pride that kept her apart from Siuan. But also mostly guilt. (2x06) // We're going to serve out our time and then we'll retire. Do you mean that? Yes.

Siuan sniffing and rereading Moiraine's letters and smiling to herself ... this scene just wrecks me because Siuan is punishing herself for what she did to Moiraine at the waygate. In the context of this season, when we realise that Siuan's upbringing is a constant cause of disrespect and humiliation, Moiraine is the only person in the world who sees and wants her as Siuan Sanche and not the Amrylin. And Siuan's betrayal means letting go of the one woman who loves her in the way that she deserves. Despite everything that happened, Siuan sees Moiraine and still sees the woman who shared her simple dreams, who promised her a life on the river. There is so much longing and innocence in her smile, which is crushing. (3x05)

Moiraine looking up to the tower to Siuan after their divorce, worried sick about her. Listening in on Siuan's conversation with Nynaeve and Egwene, and the camera pans to her as Siuan indirectly confesses her immense regret at mistreating Moiraine, and laments at a love gone sour. We are always reminded that while these two women still loved each other, what they once had was gone. (3x01)

And this is my absolute favourite one, when Logain asks Moiraine what she truly wants. It is from way before we know about Moiraine and Siuan's relationship and their dreams to be fishwives. Thus far, Moiraine has been unreadable. Cold and ruthless. But for a few seconds, Rosamund Pike transforms Moiraine's hardened facade into something softer - you can feel her sorrow. And in that moment, you want to know who Moiraine truly is. Behind Moiraine's singular focus on the mission lies an undercurrent of piercing sadness that will reverberate across the series. We soon learn that this all ties back to Siuan and the promises they've made to each other, promises and dreams that they know they can't fulfil. There's something so haunting about it. Extremely precise writing. (1x04)

I just love everything about it. Her love for Siuan is always present, always flowing and always defining even when Siuan is not there, and vice versa. At the heart of The Wheel of Time is the estrangement between love, duty and justice. The fissure between love and impossibility begins with Moiraine and Siuan, whose dreams were crushed in the most banal way possible - being at the wrong place at the wrong time. It is so absurdly human and so absurdly tragic. The cruelty of life is so casual, which makes Siuan and Moiraine's love feel even more life-affirming and precious.

[writingpandagoth]

Idea for request. Some woman flirt with Severus and y/n is jelaous. Severus handles the situation well and show Y/n that she is the one.

(If you write smut, he can show her at home in bed how he love her 😈, but it doesn’t have to be)

uffff!😭

I am telling you I was shaking and screaming and had about three mental breakdowns writing this but I have done it. (I am sorry)

After years I actually wrote real smut again.

I hope it is enjoyable.😅😂

This story contains sexual happenings

This is only for those of age so anyone under 18 I have loads of other stories you could read please fo not read this one.

Authors Note: contains a dumb bitch who is trying to steal our man, Possessive behavior, Marking, Unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral (female receiving) basically just some good hard fucking (again Im sorry). There is also aftercare because I don't do sex scenes without proper care afterwards.

My Only One

The dungeon quarters are always quiet in the early hours—before the castle wakes, before the halls fill with adolescent chaos. Down here, it’s just the low crackle of the fireplace and the gentle clink of mugs as you set two on the small table.

You’re in on of Severus's robes, hair pulled up haphazardly, sleeves rolled to your elbows. Steam curls from the teapot. The scent of bergamot mixes with something faintly smoky—Severus’s blend, always sharper than yours.

A pair of arms snake around your waist from behind.

You don’t need to turn to know it’s him. The way his hands settle—firm, steady—says everything. Not a request. A claim. You lean back into him with a small, content sigh.

“You’re up early,” you murmur.

His voice is rough with sleep. “Didn’t want you leaving the bed without me.”

“You were snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

You smile.

His lips brush the side of your neck, not quite a kiss—just enough heat to make your breath catch. One of his hands slides over your stomach, fingers flexing possessively through the thin fabric of your robe.

“Severus,” you say, soft but amused, “I’m trying to make tea.”

“You’re always trying to do something,” he mutters. “Just stand still for a moment.”

You do. And he holds you, cheek resting against your temple, arms tight around your waist like he’s anchoring himself to you.

This is what most people don’t see—the version of him that’s quiet and warm and a little selfish when it comes to you. Not the fearsome professor, not the sharp-tongued Potions Master. Just a man who likes to hold you before the day begins.

Eventually, he releases you with a final squeeze. You pour the tea. He sits, black robes already pulled on, collar askew from rushing. You cross the room and fix it without a word, fingers brushing the hollow of his throat.

He watches you the entire time.

“Professor Selwyn arrives today,” he says, breaking the silence. “Arithmancy.”

You hum. “I read her file. Transferred from the Prague Institute. Good reputation. A little…flashy.”

He arches a brow. “You’ve seen her?”

“No,” you say. “But anyone who writes a seventeen-page self-introduction for a faculty dossier is looking to be noticed.”

He snorts. “We’ll see.”

You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Play nice.”

His hand wraps gently around your wrist as you pull away, and he looks up at you with something unreadable in his eyes. There’s a pause—weighted.

Then “You look particularly ravishable in my robe.”

You blink, surprised, heat blooming in your cheeks.

“Breakfast,” you say quickly, grabbing your wand to transfigure your clothes. “Now.”

He smirks, but doesn’t argue. That look follows you all the way to the Great Hall.

The staff table buzzed more than usual at breakfast.

Professor Flitwick was animated, chatting with Hooch about Quidditch prospects. Minerva wore her usual stern expression but with a flicker of amusement as the conversation floated around her. And at the far end of the table, freshly seated between Sprout and Vector, was her.

Professor Selwyn.

Blonde, sleek, poised—dressed in tailored navy robes that hugged her figure in all the places most people pretended not to notice. She smiled easily, laughed even easier, and introduced herself to every staff member like she’d already memorized their biographies.

You watched, not with malice—but with curiosity. She was pretty. Clearly intelligent. Magnetic in that effortless, practiced way.

It wasn’t until she turned her eyes toward the seat beside your partner that your stomach began to shift.

“Oh, Professor Snape,” she said, standing as he approached. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

He stopped short, only just concealing the pause.

“Have you,” he said flatly.

“Oh yes,” she purred. “Your papers on counter-poisons are still referenced at Durmstrang. I’m actually hoping you’ll let me audit a few of your sixth-year classes—strictly for professional development, of course.”

Severus slid into his chair beside you with a nod that was neither warm nor dismissive. “As long as you don’t interrupt my teaching, I don’t see why not.”

You sipped your tea slowly.

Selwyn sat too. But not before placing her hand briefly on his shoulder.

It lingered.

You didn’t react. Not yet. But you felt Severus go still beside you, just for a second. Then he reached for his tea as if nothing happened.

Throughout the meal, Selwyn continued: asking him questions about potion storage, classroom ventilation, ingredient sourcing from the Balkans.

She never looked at you once.

When breakfast ended, you moved to stand. So did Severus, silently beside you as always. Selwyn leaned forward.

“Oh—Professor Snape,” she said, voice dropping slightly. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to give me a tour of the dungeons sometime this week? I hear you’ve made some… personal modifications.”

He glanced at her, then at you.

Your expression didn’t waver.

“I’ll consider it,” he said curtly.

Her smile widened.

You walked out of the Great Hall without speaking. He followed.

When you reached the end of the corridor, you finally said, “She’s bold.”

“She’s transparent,” he replied. “And annoying.”

“She knows we’re together.”

“Yes.”

“And she still touches you.”

He stopped walking. Turned.

“Would you like me to publicly hex her?” he asked, deadpan.

You tried to hide your smile. “Not yet.”

He stepped closer, voice low.

“Then stop looking at me like you think I’ve already betrayed you.”

You blinked.

“I haven’t,” he added. “And I won’t.”

With that, he turned and walked away, robes sweeping behind him.

You watched him go, stomach tight with something hot and unspoken. Something told you Selwyn wasn’t finished.

And neither were you.

--

You weren’t looking for her but she was always there.

In the staff lounge, draped over a chair near Severus, flipping through some textbook she clearly didn’t need, laughing too loudly at something he didn’t even say.

In the corridors, catching up with him conveniently right outside your classroom door, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

At staff meetings, leaning across the table, whispering something behind her hand, smiling like a secret.

You told yourself it didn’t matter.

You knew Severus. You trusted him. He wasn’t warm to strangers and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna fall for a flirtatious giggling woman who believed she was above everything.

But Selwyn didn’t care about subtlety—or boundaries.

You watched it happen again that afternoon.

The two of them walking ahead of you down the dungeon corridor, Selwyn’s laugh echoing off the stone. She reached out and touched his arm—again.

You caught up. She didn’t move her hand.

“Oh, Professor Y/L/N,” she said with false surprise. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Obviously,” you said flatly.

Severus didn’t look at her just stared straight ahead, jaw tight.

She dropped her hand but didn’t look the least bit sorry.

“I was just telling Severus—can I call you Severus?—that I might need some help re-stabilizing my supply closet. I’ve had so many issues with shrinkage spells lately.”

“Hire a house-elf,” you said, not bothering to smile.

Selwyn laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d heard all day. “Oh, you’re funny.”

Then, sweet as sugar: “You’re so lucky, really. He’s… a mystery, isn’t he?”

You stared at her. “He’s not a mystery to me.”

“Mm.” She leaned in a little, voice just low enough. “Well, I know he takes a little...melting but I am sure if I tried more he wouldn't be able to resist me.”

Something snapped behind your ribs. Severus stopped walking. Turned around slowly.

Selwyn froze.

His voice was ice. “Professor Selwyn, I suggest you remember who you’re speaking in front of.”

She blinked. “Of course. I didn’t mean anything. it was just harmless fun.”

You didn’t wait to hear more. You brushed past them both and kept walking. You knew better than to show weakness in front of her but your hands were trembling by the time you reached your office.

That night, you said nothing. Not during dinner. Not during your grading beside Severus. Not even when he leaned over and kissed your shoulder before bed.

You turned off the light and stared at the ceiling, every nerve buzzing.

You trusted him. But she was chipping away at something you didn’t even realize was fragile.

And worse?

She knew it.

--

It was late.

The halls were dim, lit only by the occasional torch. Most of the castle had gone quiet, students tucked into dormitories, staff tucked into their routines.

You were heading to Severus’s office, planning to drop off the final version of the interdepartmental syllabus revisions—mundane, but necessary.

Then you saw her.

Professor Selwyn, stepping out of his office.

She wasn’t in work robes anymore. Just a soft, fitted blouse that had way to many buttons open and dark trousers. Hair down. A single glass in her hand—half-drained wine, dark red.

She didn’t look startled to see you. If anything, she looked... smug.

“Oh,” she said sweetly, pausing in the corridor. “I didn't expected to see you here. We were having an intense... discussion.”

She tilted the glass as if to toast you. “To my success”

You didn’t answer her. You didn’t need to. The door to Severus’s office was still ajar. You pushed it open and stepped inside.

He looked up from behind his desk, startled. The glass in front of him still full. His posture was rigid, arms crossed, dark eyes unreadable.

“She just left,” he said coolly.

“I saw.” you replied, closing the door behind you.

There was silence. Thick and sharp.

“She brought wine,” you said. “And dressed like that. To your office. At night.”

“I didn’t drink it.”

“She still came.”

“She comes everywhere,” he muttered, standing now. “I didn’t invite her.”

You stared at him, heart hammering.

“Do you enjoy it?” The question came out low. Raw. “The attention? The way she fawns over you? Touches you in front of me like I’m not even there?”

His face darkened. “You think I want her?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore, Severus,” you said. “She walks around like she’s already won. Like she knows something I don’t.”

He moved quickly—around the desk, toward you. Not angry. Focused.

“You think I’d throw away what I have with you,” he said, voice hard, “for her?”

“What am I supposed to think? You never say anything.”

He stopped in front of you. Close now. His voice dropped to a near-whisper.

“Then listen now very carefully.”

His hand came up—slow, controlled—and curled around the back of your neck. Not rough. Steady. Grounding.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think I had to. Because I thought what we had was obvious. Unshakable.”

You swallowed.

His thumb brushed your jaw.

“But if she’s made you question it—question me—then I’ve failed to show you something I should have from the start.”

He leaned in, forehead resting gently against yours.

“So let me show you now.”

His mouth crashed into yours, messy and hard, teeth knocking yours as he shoved you back against the stone wall like he couldn’t wait another second. One hand curled around your waist, the other buried in your hair, anchoring you there. Not hurting—but holding. Claiming.

“You really think I want her?” he rasped into your mouth, voice gravel-rough and low, his breath hot against your skin.

“You think I’d look at anyone else when I already have you?”

His mouth dropped to your neck, biting hard—no gentle warning, just teeth and tongue and a sharp inhale from your lungs. You gasped, fingers clutching the back of his cloak as his body pressed against yours, thick and hot and unyielding.

“I see the way you burn when she touches me,” he growled, dragging his mouth down your throat.

“I feel it. Do you really think I’d waste a single fucking second of my life on anyone who isn’t you?”

You whimpered—because you didn’t have a good answer. Because you’d let the insecurity get in. Because the way he was holding you, speaking to you, consuming you—there was no room for anyone else in this heat. It was him. Only him.

“Get over here,” he snapped

He yanked you up into his arms like you weighed nothing, sweeping everything off his desk with one arm and set you down on the edge. Papers scattered, a quill rolled to the floor, the still full wine glass shattered on the floor.

But you didn't care you were pulling at his robes with shaking hands. 

“I’m going to fuck you so thoroughly you won’t remember your own name,” he growled, dragging your clothes off piece by piece. “The only thing in your head will be me.”

He kissed you again—filthy, tongue and teeth, nothing controlled. His fingers slipped beneath your panties, finding you wet and ready, and he groaned into your mouth.

“Fuck, you’re already soaked for me”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Only you—always you.”

That made something inside him break. 

He dropped to his knees ripping your panties off you, hooked your legs over his shoulders, and buried his face between your thighs like a man possessed. He didn’t tease—he devoured. Tongue licking up your cunt before sucking on your clit, hands gripping your thighs so tight you knew there’d be bruises. And you wanted them.

Your head fell back. Legs spread. Voice gone.

“Fuck—Severus—oh god—”

“That’s it,” he murmured, the vibration of his voice against your core sending shocks up your spine.

“Make those sounds. Let the whole castle know who’s got you like this.”

You were already trembling, fingers twisted in his hair, thighs trying to close around his head. He growled, shoved them open again.

“Don’t fucking hide from me.”

You sobbed his name, trembling, unraveling as he worked you with relentless focus—like he needed you to fall apart to breathe again.

You came the first time with his name on your lips, body jerking, vision blurred.

But he didn’t stop.

His tongue only left you long enough for his fingers to take over—two of them sliding deep, curling just right, and then three—stretching you, fucking into you slow and deep while his mouth came back down over your clit with maddening devotion.

The sounds—wet, obscene, perfect—filled the room, and you couldn’t even form words anymore. Just broken moans and sharp cries, your thighs shaking violently as he dragged another orgasm out of you like it was his purpose.

Another.

And another.

You were crying now—literally—tears slipping down your cheeks from the sheer, overwhelming intensity. The pleasure blurred into pain, back into pleasure. Your whole body burned.

And still, his fingers pumped into you, slick and relentless, his mouth murmuring praises against you like a prayer.

“Look at you,” he said, lifting his head just long enough to see you falling apart. His mouth glistened, his fingers still buried in you, slowly curling just right again.

“Fucking ruined. And I haven’t even been inside you yet.”

His voice was reverent—darkly tender.

“Everything she wants? You already own it.”

He pulled his fingers out slowly, dragging your slick across your inner thighs like a mark, then brought them to your lips.

“Open.”

You did. And you tasted yourself as he slid them in, watching you with dark, burning eyes.

“She’ll never get this,” he growled, voice low and wrecked. “She’ll never get to feel me like this.”

He licked his lips when he stood, eyes black with hunger.

“You’re never going to doubt me again,” he growled. “I’m going to make you scream so that she can hear.”

He stripped fast. Shirt, trousers, everything gone and slammed his mouth against yours again—deep, messy, consuming. You clawed at his back, dragging him closer, needing him like oxygen.

He lined himself up—thick, hot, already pulsing—and pressed the tip of his cock right against your entrance.

And stopped.

You gasped. Eyes flying open, body trembling with frustration.

He didn’t move.

Just held you there—stretched just barely, the threat of fullness teasing your every nerve ending. He looked down at you, gaze wild, jaw tight with restraint.

“You want it?” he asked, voice dark silk. “You want me to fuck you like she doesn’t exist? Like there’s never been anyone but you?”

“Severus, please—”

He dipped his head to your throat, biting gently.

“I want to hear you beg for it.”

You were already breathless, already wrecked from the buildup alone. Your hands clutched his arms, thighs shaking.

“Please,” you whispered. “Please—I need you—I need you to fuck me.”

And that was all it took.

He growled—deep, possessive—and then snapped his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one, brutal thrust.

Your cry echoed through the stone room.

And then he was moving, fast and deep, every thrust a declaration, every groan a claim.

“You feel too good,” he gasped into your neck, moving hard and deep. “I could live inside you. I could stay like this forever.”

He moved fast, rough—hips slamming into yours with purpose, desk rattling beneath you. You couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. His name left your lips in broken sobs, your legs wrapping around him like you were afraid he might disappear if you didn’t hold tight enough.

“Tell me who owns you,” he snarled, his breath hot against your throat.

“You—fuck, Severus—you.”

“That’s right.” His hand wrapped around your throat—not squeezing, just holding, grounding you in his intensity. “And you own me, love. All of me. There’s nothing left for anyone else. There never was and never will be.”

He kissed you again—ravenous and claiming. And then, suddenly, he pulled out, just enough to flip you onto your stomach against the desk. Your hands scrambled for purchase, cheek pressed to the cold wood as you panted, blinking hard to stay grounded.

Then he was back.

Thrusting in deeper this time, from behind—your back arched, his chest pressing over your back as he folded himself around you, one hand fisting in your hair, the other gripping your hip so tightly it bordered on bruising.

He fucked you like he needed to erase her—like he was carving it into your soul that you were his and he was yours.

“Let me fucking ruin you.” he growled into your ear.

You keened beneath him—helpless, soaked, completely gone.

He kept moving—deep, relentless, his cock dragging against every sweet, swollen nerve inside you—and your body betrayed you again. The orgasm hit with no warning, crashing through you like a tidal wave.

You sobbed as you came, whole body spasming beneath him, your voice breaking on his name.

“Look at you,” he rasped, pace savage now. “So fucking desperate for me. You were made for this—made for me. You’re mine. You’re mine.”

And still, he didn’t stop.

Your body trembled beneath him, overstimulated, soaked, wrecked in a way that left no doubt—you were completely, irreversibly his.

“I should stop,” he growled, hips still punishing. “But I can’t. Not when you feel this good. Not when your body’s begging me to stay.”

He pulled you up suddenly, pulling out to turn you around again chest to chest. He sat you on the edge of the desk again, his hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your thigh as he sank back into you again, deeper, over and over, voice raw against your ear.

“Let her fucking look,” he hissed. “Let her dream. She will never know what it’s like to be this full. To be this loved by me.”

You cried out again, the pressure mounting in your gut, your muscles tightening as you clung to him with everything left.

“One more,” he whispered. “Come for me one more time. I want to feel you fall apart while I fill you. I want to watch you break.”

And you did.

You shattered around him, body convulsing, voice torn from your throat as you came with everything you had left. His name was the only thing you could form, whispered like prayer, screamed like surrender.

Severus’s rhythm faltered—And when he came, it was violent—a full-body convulsion, a broken moan into your neck, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside you, burying himself to the hilt with one final, brutal thrust.

He held you through it, breath ragged, mouth pressed to your jaw as he whispered:

“You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. And I’m yours. Every fucking inch.”

Your body was limp against him, muscles twitching in the aftermath. The world had narrowed to his weight pressing into you, the soft sting between your legs, the heavy warmth of his release still inside you. Every part of you felt raw. Open. Owned.

Severus didn’t move right away. He just held you. Breathing hard. Face buried in your neck. One hand splayed wide across your back like he was still anchoring you. Like if he let go, you might disappear.

Eventually, he pulled back—just enough to see your face.

Your skin slick with sweat, your mind blank in that fragile, blissed-out way that made everything feel distant. But his hands were still steady. His voice, low and grounding. His body, wrapped around yours like a shield.

Then, without a word, he eased out of you, murmuring a quiet apology when you whimpered at the loss. He took his pants and pulled them on without a word before he reached for his robe and draped it around you still a little warm from his body, still smelling like clove and parchment and dark spice.

You blinked, dazed.

“Don’t want you getting cold,” he murmured, pulling the fabric around your shoulders and fastening the top button with gentle fingers.

Then, with one sweep of his wand, he cast a charm that tidied the desk, vanished the mess, and reset the room with practiced ease. He hooked one arm under your legs and the other around your back.

You didn’t protest.

He carried you through the hidden door that connected his office to your shared chambers, the one only you and he used. His grip on you never faltered—tight, secure, like he couldn’t bear to let go.

He laid you gently on the edge of the bed, then disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.

You heard the sound of water running. The clink of bottles. Steam began curling into the bedroom, scented faintly with lavender and bergamot. When he returned, he had shed the last of his clothes, his expression softer now—still intense, but more... tender.

He picked you up again—no warning, just warm arms, strong and sure.

“You’re not walking anywhere,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Not after that.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, letting yourself melt against him.

The bath was deep and hot, the surface scattered with herbs and oils that shimmered faintly in the candlelight. He stepped into the water with you still in his arms, settling you carefully in his lap, the robe slipping away as the warmth enveloped your skin.

He held you there, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other running a soft cloth over your thighs, your stomach, your chest.

Just taking care.

His hands were reverent. Almost... apologetic. Like he was giving back something he’d taken.

He kissed your shoulder. Your jaw. The inside of your wrist. Every inch of skin he could reach, he honored.

“You did so well for me,” he whispered against your skin. “Took everything. Gave me everything.”

Your breath hitched, eyes closing.

“Severus...”

“I mean it.” Another kiss. Another slow sweep of his hand across your stomach. “You let me lose control. And you still trusted me.”

“I always trust you.”

He stilled for a second.

Then pulled you tighter to his chest, lips pressing to your hair.

When the water began to cool, he stood again, holding you like you weighed nothing. He dried you with a charm, then towel-dried the rest with care—rubbing gentle circles into your back, your arms, the soft insides of your thighs.

He vanished briefly into the wardrobe, returning with one of his old black undershirts—soft, worn, and smelling like him.

“You sleep better in my clothes,” he said simply, tugging it over your head.

You did. And he always remembered.

When you were finally dressed, warm and boneless, he lifted you once more and laid you down on your side of the bed, then slid in beside you and pulled you against his chest.

You pressed your face into his throat, your body melting against him.

For a long time, there was only breathing.

Then, his voice—quiet, vulnerable, honest.

“She means nothing. She doesn't have a chance against you.”

You didn’t move.

“I didn’t say anything because I thought you knew,” he continued. “But I should have. I should have told her and made it clear. That there is no one else but you.”

You tilted your head just enough to meet his eyes.

“I know that now.”

“I’ll make it clear,” he murmured. “Although she can keep trying. I hope she does.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Because it’ll kill her,” he said, leaning in, “to see you tomorrow—glowing. Sore. knowing I was the one to cause it.”

You smiled, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers traced slow circles on your back.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You love it.”

“I really do.”

He chuckled once—low and tired. Then kissed your temple and whispered, “Sleep, my love.”

And you did.

Safe. Claimed. Loved.

--

The staff lounge buzzed with quiet morning energy. Flitwick stirred honey into his tea. Sprout flipped through seed catalogs. McGonagall read the Daily Prophet, her expression already unimpressed by whatever was on the front page.

Near the window, Severus Snape sat like a shadow in silk—silent, unreadable, hands wrapped around a cup of black tea.

And beside him, far too close, was Professor Selwyn.

She leaned in with a soft, fabricated laugh, her fingers brushing his sleeve.

“Oh, I just adore the smell of chamomile in the morning,” she said lightly. “Don’t you?”

Severus didn’t look at her.

McGonagall’s eyes lifted from her paper, unimpressed. Sprout sipped her tea louder than necessary. Flitwick tapped his spoon that sounded suspiciously like the funeral march.

“I was thinking I could stop by your office again this evening,” Selwyn continued, voice dropping. “Just to go over—”

“I have papers to grade, Professor Selwyn,” Severus interrupted, his tone clipped and cold. “I don’t have time for unimportant matters.”

She laughed too loudly, undeterred, her hand drifting too close to his again.

“Oh, I’ve always thought there’s nothing more attractive than discipline,” she said, voice laced with false intimacy. “And I do mean discipline in every sense...”

Still, Severus didn’t react. He sipped his tea like she wasn’t there.

Then the door opened.

You stepped in, unhurried. Your teaching robes hung loosely around you, hair undone, expression composed—but undeniably glowing.

Selwyn looked up and smiled, too fast. “Professor Y/L/N,” she said sweetly. “You look a bit tired.”

You nodded. “I am, actually.”

Then, without a word, your fingers slipped to the clasp of your robe. You undid it slowly and slid it off your shoulders, revealing one of Severus’s black button-ups beneath—oversized, rumpled, unmistakably his. Your collarbone and neck bloomed with fresh, unmistakable marks.

The room shifted.

Sprout made a soft sound behind her tea that might have been a laugh.

“Oh dear,” Flitwick murmured, “someone had a productive evening.”

McGonagall turned another page of the paper, a restrained smile curling at her lips. “Seems someone didn’t sleep through the night.”

You offered a cheeky grin, then walked calmly to Severus’s chair, draped your robe over the back of it and reached for a fresh mug. You poured your tea as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Selwyn watched you, stiff and silent.

Then, casually, you glanced at the space beside Severus still occupied by her—and chose instead to lower yourself directly into his lap.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just settled a hand on your thigh, possessive and casual, while his eyes drank you in.

You winced slightly as you sat. He noticed. Everyone noticed.

“My goodness,” Sprout said, feigning concern. “You look a little wrecked, dear.”

“Oh yes,” Flitwick added with mock-seriousness. “That’s the look of someone who got very little sleep. Must make teaching quite difficult today.”

Selwyn’s entire body tensed.

You took another slow sip of your tea. “I managed.”

Severus finally spoke—calm, precise, and utterly deadly.

“I’m actually surprised she can still walk,” he said, as if observing the weather. “But she’s always been impressively resilient.”

You choked on a laugh.

Sprout gasped, delighted. “Oh my.”

McGonagall didn’t look up from her paper, but her lips twitched. “Mm. Thorough indeed.”

Flitwick chuckled, lifting his tea in a subtle toast. “To resilience, then.”

Selwyn stood without a word. Face flushed, jaw tight, she turned and left the lounge in absolute silence.

The door closed behind her.

Severus sipped his tea.

You leaned back against his chest, utterly unbothered.

Victory never tasted so sweet.

[gothriotgrrl]

People have every right to be upset about the lack of disability representation. That's not what upsets me about this post, what upsets me is the misrepresentation of the Ba Sing Se quote, she didn't proudly say that like it was some declaration, she was crying and saying it in response to being bullied. Before the bullies started insulting them, Toph was shown happily saying that she kind of felt girly, it didn't have any negative connotations until others tore her down. For those of you who lack media literacy, that scene where she said she knew who she was and she didn't care what she looked like while she had tears streaming down her face, was to show her trying to put up a tough front because being tough is how she protects herself. She doesn't hate girly things but indulging in them makes her vulnerable, and she hates feeling vulnerable. That's literally part of her character arc! As someone who was the disabled girl who had to work with the special education department at school who also hid behind a tough exterior, throwing hands while secretly liking girly stuff like Sailor Moon, make-up and fashion, and watching cheerleading competitions on ESPN, I loved that part of Toph's storyline. When you're disabled, people equate your vulnerabilities to your disability, and infantilize you, which is what Toph's parents did. Toph needed to learn that they were people in the world she could trust to not infantilize her vulnerabilities and instead humanize them. That was the importance of that scene, she could trust Katara, so she didn't hide her vulnerability behind toughness, and Katara responded with humanizing Toph, not infantalizing her. And using the fact that they hired an actress who is not visually impaired as the header of this post and then spending the majority of the post misrepresenting Toph's scene of vulnerability is incredibly ableisit. You used her disability to draw people into the post and then spent the majority of the post complaining about how her being feminine doesn't make her more human when the point of the scene you mentioned is showing that her enjoyment of feminine things is a vulnerability of hers, which in turn humanizes her! This is the problem with so many of the people who hate the live action, there are legitimate things wrong with the series, but none of you actually acknowledge what they are. During the first season, everyone complained about them removing things from the show that were not only racist tropes, but were so ingrained in Western media, they didn't even realize they were racist tropes. Or if they did, they didn't care because they didn't want the reality that they liked a show full of racist tropes to ruin their nostalgia. And now it's happening this season with Toph and disability. Should they have hired an actress that was visually impaired, yes. But that's not why you're really upset, you're upset that you took parts of a storyline about a disabled girl and applied them to your own life and growth (which is fine, that's part of what consuming media is about) and are now getting mad that they're expanding on parts of that storyline that either don't apply to you or that you don't want to apply to you. And for you and anyone else who's doing this, maybe you should take something else from Toph's storyline and learn to deal with those emotions and vulnerabilities, instead of using a disabled character being played by an actress who doesn't have that disability as a terrible segue for your own emotional hang-ups.

this is the worst fucking day of my life, and yet i am not surprised in the slightest.

toph is an icon for disabled people. she’s one of so few blind characters who is a hero and whose disability is not her weakness or fatal flaw. while it does make her life harder, as any disability does, it also gives her strength. she is the greatest earthbender of her generation. she invented a whole new subsection of bending. the people behind the live action production had a chance to make history just by doing the bare minimum: casting a blind actress to play a blind character. they couldn’t even do that.

not only that, but they’re making her “slightly more feminine” to “humanize” her. as if there weren’t so many young girls out there who looked up to toph because she was weird and didn’t fit the mold. in “tales of ba sing se” she tells katara, “i don’t care what i look like. i’m not looking for anyone’s approval. i know who i am.” to have a female character who doesn’t conform to beauty standards is so important especially right now with the prevalent beauty influencer culture.

while the original cartoon’s representation of women wasn’t perfect, it was diverse. katara and ty lee were both feminine. they liked to dress up and look pretty. toph is not feminine. she grew up forced to dress in formal clothes and style herself a certain way and decided to liberate herself from that. all three of these women are incredibly strong and incredibly talented at what they do, and none of that is impacted by their appearance or gender presentation.

every day, my hatred for the netflix version of avatar grows.

[hexcodewisteria]

i love how shisui's actions at the end of vol. 4 haunt the rest of the story even if she's rarely ever mentioned by name. her actions and plan first of all are what causes the entire paradigm shift in the series— ending the power of the shi clan and warning jinshi while also effectively forcing jinshi's disguise in the rear palace to end.

and then the effects follow maomao throughout the rest of the story— the obvious stuff with maomao grieving her when the appropriate mentions come up and looking into markets for the hairstick and then in vol. 5 maomao even figures out the locust/grasshopper mystery because of the clues shisui left behind and then there's the one moment in— i think volume 10 or 11? where maomao touches jinshi's scar and tells him he's not immortal, that he can be scarred and brought low— that scar wouldn't have been there without shisui doing so in the first place (admittedly this is a very little thing compared to the rest but it's still significant because its part of the whole cascading events at the end of vol. 4). every action she made and the relationships she created even if it was under a false identity still deeply mattered and her presence is felt even when the scene isn't about her or the shi clan but because her actions and character were so momentous, even if her total time in the story proper was barely two or three volumes.

[project-sekai-facts]

I've heard that Harumichi's reasoning for being against street music was retconned, but I can't find any scenes contradicting the one given in Toya5. Was there a different explanation, or is the Toya5 explanation just going more in-depth?

Okay so I mentioned it was a retcon before but WLE card stories confirmed the original reasoning behind his negativity towards Toya becoming a street musician is still at play. Which makes the introduction of new Harumichi lore even worse. I mean. It kinda fits in like you could just assume Harumichi never expressed the true reasoning for his dislike towards street music because he's like that or whatever but that doesn't really work well. Basically a poor attempt by the writers to give Harumichi more layers (that he didn't need) and a more sympathetic reason for his actions (that he didn't need) so writing Toya reconciling with him will be easier or something because he will be able to understand his dad's actions and the offense taken when Toya ran away (which he already had like. 3 different reasons for). The new reason from ttto also just makes him worse as a character lmao. Explanation:

The original reason given in earlier stories like main story and nocturne, as well as some supplementary materials and more recently, concerto, was that Harumichi believed that Toya was throwing away his potential as a classical musician by running away, and that's the cause of his negativity towards Toya and street music. Harumichi is internationally known for his craft, and all of his sons have followed in his footsteps as talented classical musicians. Harumichi taught Toya from a young age to be as good as he is, and yet Toya breaks due to the abusive nature of his lessons and runs away.

To throw salt in the wound, Toya then runs off and decides to learn a different genre of music from some random boy he met off the street one day who isn't nearly as acclaimed as Harumichi is. Harumichi also blames Akito for Toya sticking with street music, claiming him to be a bad influence who corrupted Toya. Toya chose street music not because it was street music, but because he wanted to pick the furthest thing from classical to piss off his dad for making his childhood a living hell. He repeatedly says in main story he would've done anything so long as it wasn't classical.

We see more of Harumichi in Nocturne where his establishing moment is him reprimanding Toya for being out late performing with VBS, telling Toya he's being childish and needs to do "what he was born for". Later in the event we see some flashbacks of him complaining about how little meaning street music has compared to classical. His issues clearly stem from some sort of superiority issue. We don't really know too much about his past but one would assume Harumichi is not the first classical musician in his family from how he treats it and how he raised his children to be like him. It's a legacy thing on top of it as well.

Toya is able to get through to Harumichi to some degree by appealing to the idea of street music having meaning and bringing Toya joy in the same way Harumichi feels about classical. This actually works and Harumichi attends Toya's performance, though their relationship remains mostly cold. That said, Harumichi gains some level of respect for his son.

Harumichi isn't relevant after that until Concerto, but it picks up his arc pretty much from where it left off. He's still cold towards Toya, but recognises his passion for street music being the same as his passion for classical, and is able to give Toya advice to help him follow that different path despite everything. Later in the event Toya goes to him for advice again, and comes clean about how much running away has weighed him down and how much he felt like he was a disappointment to his father. Harumichi finally admits to Toya that he was disappointed that Toya threw 12 years of something he once loved down the drain, but admits that he's proud of Toya for the 12 years he spent dedicating his life to classical music, and believes in his ability to surpass RW. It's the first time Toya and his father have a real conversation over their feelings from that time and Harumichi confesses to Toya that his disappointment and anger stemmed from Toya throwing away something he loved, something he dedicated his life to, and something he had potential in.

That is why ttto's new explanation doesn't work.

Time to Take Off introduced the idea of Harumichi having a grudge against the genre of street music specifically. The cause of this was a run in with some street musicians more than thirty years ago who insulted classical music. To reiterate: the new lore insists that Harumichi spent more than three decades hating a genre because of a couple of rude people he talked to one time.

As I mentioned, this seems like an attempt to justify his disappointment towards Toya becoming a street musician to make him easier to sympathise with for a possible later reconciliation. Although we already had been given the following explanations for his behaviour:

He views classical very highly because of its personal importance to him and views other genres as inferior

He's disappointed that Toya would throw away 12 years of dedication to classical

He's disappointed Toya would neglect his natural talent for classical and potential as a professional classical musician

He's disappointed that Toya is the only person in the family to reject classical and the family legacy (more subtextual but very much there)

He's angry that Toya chose to pursue a different genre with a young and inexperienced mentor instead of returning to classical or quitting altogether

He also doesn't like Akito specifically

The 30 year long grudge completely undermines the conflict between Toya and his father between main story and Concerto, and especially weakens the impact of his conversation with Toya in the latter now that you have to assume he was keeping all this quiet while confessing to his son that despite is disappointment over Toya throwing away so much, he is proud of Toya for once loving the music as him.

And yes, you could argue "he didn't mention it then because it would have made things worse", "he never talked about it before because he's not an open person", and while both these statements are true the real reason is that this lore didn't exist and was invented solely to give him a sympathetic backstory. It's clunky. If you have to go out of your way to justify why it wasn't mentioned 4 years ago then it shouldn't have been mentioned at all. It doesn't naturally fit with the story or his character at all.

Harumichi is a prideful character. He's built on that. It's a major theme of Concerto and is what informs many of his interactions with Toya in that event in both present day and flashbacks. The writers spent four years building this aspect of his character, and explaining that his emotional neglect towards Toya following him quitting music was because of his prideful nature. His newly added dislike towards street music barely comes from a place of pride, but a place of pettiness. Harumichi has pride in himself, his son, his family legacy, but most of all, classical music. He would have moved on from that bad encounter a long time ago if he was truly proud of his music, since he would know his music holds more worth and more meaning than theirs ever will. This is exactly how Harumichi was characterised prior to ttto. Ttto wants us to look back and recontextualise everything with the knowledge that Harumichi is petty and can't let go of things, and quite frankly it becomes contradictory within a couple minutes of reading.

Now had this been introduced in main story or nocturne we would not be having this conversation. The reason it's so bad to introduce it at this point is because it's so far through the story and Toya's arc. Toya finally confronted his dad properly in Concerto, his previous event. While they have not fully reconciled, it was the closest they have ever gotten and the first time Harumichi has properly opened up to his son about his side of the story. We heard Harumichi's side of the story, he told us that his anger towards the path Toya chose, but also his love and respect for him as a son, come from a place of pride. After that is not the time to bring in new explanations for his actions. He told us why he acted the way he did, and it's insulting to the audience to be told that he was actually keeping secrets. It ruins the emotional value of the scene and many others.

Also just emotionally neglecting your child over a 30+ year old grudge just makes Harumichi look even shittier as a person and as a dad so I don't get why we're meant to feel sympathy due to this change.

[clouji]

No Note Today?

+ fluff, barista reader x hamzah, coffee shop, chase as bff

💟

He walked in as if he had been coming here for years, but the fact that you had never seen him before. Black hoodie, camo cap, messy soft curly hair, tired boba eyes, and a smile that increases your oxytocin levels. He got his favorite coffee and sat in his usual spot, in the corner by the window, laptop out, headphones in, and stayed there like a glue for hours.

Then he came back. The next day... And the next.... And next, you call it.

For whatever reason, he suddenly become your crush. Not a weird type. Just a happy little crush, the “I giggle when he says hi” or “Is he gonna be here today?” Type of crush.

“Y/N, you’re so obsessed,” your co-worker bestie Chase said randomly as you drew something on the side of his cup before calling out his name.

“I’m not!!,” you said, handing it to him with a practiced smile. “It’s just fun and gives me little motivation.”

He raises a brow. “You deadass wrote 'you're someones reason to smile.'”

You roll your eyes. “Come on! Just let me be happy, okay?.”

His name is Hamzah... You find it funny that he never mentioned the notes. So you weren't sure if he saw them. But you continued to do it. Every single day, there is a different stupid one, like:

“This is your 4th coffee this week. Blink twice if you’re okay.”

“Can I also scroll thru your ig reels. I'm bored :3.”

That one got a smirk. Your face turned red like crazy and had to go to the back and pretend to restock cups just to recover.

⏭️

Then one Thursday morning, it was a busy day with a lot of customers, and your manager called you to the back to help your new co-worker. You didn't realize you'd handed him his coffee without a note until he was standing near the pickup counter, staring at the plain and boring blank cup.

You were wiping your hands on your apron, grabbed a marker just to write a quick note-

But he raised the cup suddenly and gave you a look. “No note today?”

You just looked at him, not knowing what to say because you're already panicking inside your head, like that Sponge Bob brain office scene (ifykyk).

“Oh, shit. I mean—” you stuttered, rubbing the back of your head. “It was kinda busy and I had to… help my new coworker and fight a dragon and travel to-”

“I was starting to think you don't like me anymore,” he said frowning, casually leaning on the counter.

You gasped. “Wait.... You read them?”

He grinned. “Ofcourse I do. I even kept a few sticky notes.”

Your jaw dropped on the floor. “No freaking way.”

He grabbed inside his laptop bag and pulled out a crumpled piece of colored paper. You could recognize your own handwriting.

“Seriously? You even kept the one where I said 'your hoodie probably smells good'?” You questioned as your voice sounded quiet and awkward.

“It does smell good,” he said. “Wanna find out?”

You thinking... is this flirting? Were you both flirting? Was this real life or just a fever dream- I need Chase to slap me right now!

“I mean...If you don't mind.”

He took a sip from his cup. “But only if I get another note tomorrow.”

You giggle. “I gotchu.”

He turned to walk back to his usual spot, then paused and looked over his shoulder.

“Oh, and by the way—” he said, “you’re not the only one with a crush. Why do you think I come here every single day.?”

Chase saw you behind the counter ten minutes later, gripping a marker and spacing out like you just drank a gallon of coffee.

“Did he punch you or something, hello?” He asked, waving his hand infront of your face.

Now you suddenly grab a cookie chip from the counter and slap a sticky note on it, you wrote: “If I write my number on your cup tomorrow, will you actually text me?"

💟

[lemotmo]

What do you think Temu's role is in next week's episode? Apart from the funeral, (though I have fucking idea why he's carrying the coffin and not anyone else from A shift)

(Hopefully his final one!)

Yeah, the choice of him carrying that coffin is just weird. The 118 isn't just made up of Hen, Eddie (will be back soon), Chimney, Buck and Ravi. There are plenty of other firefighters at the station. We see them all the time in the background. It would make more sense that one of them would carry that coffin. He was their captain too.

But for plot reasons I suppose they decided to use Tommy. 🙄

I do think Tommy is there for a reason. We've seen in 15 that Buck and Tommy are back on good terms, but we also know that a relationship between them would never work. One, because Tommy knows that Buck isn't as interested in him as he would like him to be, mainly because he heavily suspects that Buck is in love with Eddie.

And two? Well, he is right. Buck is in love with Eddie. He just doesn't want to see it or even acknowledge it. 🤷‍♀️

But how could they fit that in the episode?

Well, I keep coming back to all the parallels between 7x03, 7x04, 8x15 and possibly 8x16:

I've been thinking about Tommy's arc. It started with him flying his helicopter to save Bathena (7x03). The next episode (7x4) he tried to woo Eddie, but ended up kissing Buck.

Now he, once again, flew his helicopter to help save Chimney and the others in 15. He showed up because Buck called him.

We also know that Eddie will be back in 16. I've speculated before that I think there'll be a convo between Tommy and Eddie. I really think this I'll happen as a parallel to 7x04, where Tommy and Eddie were shown to be friends. We do know that Eddie stopped talking to Tommy when BT broke up, so it might be a bit of an awkward conversation where both feel out of their depth.

Additionally I potentially see Tommy give Eddie some kind of hint as to not wait to long to go after what he wants or something generic like that. Which will undoubtedly puzzle Eddie and might be something that he can't get out of his head in the two last episodes.

So, my current theory for 8x16 is that they will parallel the scene where Tommy comes over to Buck's loft in 7x04. Only this time it won't end with Tommy kissing Buck.

So Tommy shows up at Buck's house after the funeral to check in on him and finds Eddie already there, taking care of Buck because Eddie knows exactly what Buck needs. At the same time Buck will also take care of Eddie, because he lost Bobby too. Tommy will probably also find out that Eddie is staying with Buck as long as he's in LA.

Cue the awkward conversation (+ possible hint) with Eddie I talked about in the paragraphs above. Tommy might then have a short talk with Buck (probably in the kitchen again) that links back to the kitchen conversation after they hooked up.

And that might just trigger Buck to realise that life is too short. He can't just keep denying these feelings he has for Eddie. Cue Buck realising and accepting that he is actually in love with his best friend.

It might even end with a nice Buddie scene after Tommy leaves. Now, in a perfect world it would end with a Buddie kiss to parallel the BT kiss, but I don't think we are quite there yet. It seems a bit too fanficy. And also... Bobby just died. Now might not be the best time. 😫😂

So most probably Eddie will ask Buck if he is okay and Buck will just stand there trying to be normal with the realisation that he has fallen in love with Eddie.

Oh and let's not forgot the Bathena parallel in both episodes either. In 7x03 Buck and Athena had a reunion on the ship with Buck, Eddie and Tommy looking at them.

In 8x16 they'll (hopefully if Bobby is still alive) have another reunion as Bobby will be back. Probably with everyone there to see it.

(Yes, I am a Bobby is alive truther. Trust.😌)

I also don't think that Eddie's realisation will be too far behind once we have confirmation of Buck's feelings. Oliver has expressed his concerns before of not wanting to do the storyline of the bisexual man falling for his straight best friend. So I think they'll try to avoid that by making sure that Eddie will start his own journey of realisation as he starts to get more and more aware that Buck is a part of his joy and happiness in life.

All right everyone, keep in mind that this is just speculation.😋 These are my thoughts about what MIGHT happen in 8x16, based on what we know so far (which is almost nothing) and based on parallels with previous episodes. So please take all of this with a grain of salt. I'm here for the fandom fun, but I'm not clairvoyant. 😉

This might shock you, but I have been wrong before in my spec. 😂😂😂