#especially one that they made with their own two hands
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sha-biest · 3 days ago
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SHA's Golden Future DTIYS [Art & Writing]
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Close ups of Mikey
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About 10 days ago I had the idea to host a DTIYS and even though I told myself it wouldn't happen anytime soon.. the idea struck and it wouldn't let me go. SO, here it is! One thing before everything else:
1st place: One handmade custom plushie made by me
More information about this DTIYS down below
I am aware that this is a rather challenging DTIYS but it was done so intentionally by me. (Trust me, I tortured myself too 🙃) HOWEVER. you are allowed to chose to draw only one segment of the whole piece and not every single one! You will however get more points for including all 3 parts of it. I will judge the pieces based on: • How many segments of the whole piece were drawn • Creativity (in what way was it changed from the original to emphasize your own style for example) • Colors (did you chose to use colors or is it black and white?) • Hands. I do accept written entries for this as well! I love reading and I don't want to exclude writers for this one should they decide they want to tackle this! You are allowed to use my art up top of the DTIYS to promote your writing!
If you want to participate be sure to @sha-biest and use the tag #GoldenFutureDTIYS Additionaly, let me know what YOU would like to get as a plushie! (don't worry, you don't have to stick to that decision should it change over the course of the DTIYS)
Deadline: 10th March 2025
More Info: • #GoldenFutureAU art tag • Written Story by Co-Creator @rosesofenvy (More about Mikey's mindscape and him unlocking his full mystic powers can be read in "Keep You Safe" especially within Chapter 4 and Chapter 8) • The Sun God's appearance here and here References:
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Mikey's mindscape in Golden Future:
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In the beginning he thought it was black water but it's actually black sand
He can dive into the sand and uncover "treasures" (parts of his mystic energy)
Diving down means no vision, sound or air gets through to him
He can uncover the mystic powers by pulling them up with his chains
Uncovering a "treasure" will turn that part of the desert golden
Disclaimer: • The plushie that can be won cannot be used to be reproduced and/or sold • The size of the plushie depends on the character chosen by the winner and by the package size I can send • I am by no means a professional plush maker so I do have the right to decline a character should I not be able to turn it into a plushie • Changes might need to be made to the chosen character for the plushie for more complicated details (I will provide sketches of possible versions) • Minors are permitted to participate, but only with the express permission of a guardian and limited correspondence if they win • You can chose to get a full illustration piece instead of a plushie should you win! (if you are too uncomfortable sharing your adress for example)
Plushie examples:
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Questions can be send in via my ask box! I will try to compile them in here or give them a dtiyas specific tag! I'm curious what you guys come up with and most of all.. have fun! :D
PS: I will consider doing two first places (one for writing and one for art) depending on how many entries there are
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peachsukii · 12 hours ago
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— I’ll be home for Christmas
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it's the annual friend circle christmas party, hosted at kirishima and mina's apartment. the only downside? your boyfriend, bakugo, is stationed overseas for hero work, so this year, you'll be celebrating through a screen. at least, that's what you're expecting.
✮ content. pro hero!bakugo + pro hero!reader. christmas magic and fluff. :) a special present for my elf @lady-lauren as part of the @pixelcafe-network secret santa exchange. ♡ ♡ ♡
✮ word count: 1.1k.
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Christmas Eve, the night of a traditional Christmas dinner with all of your closest friends. A pot luck buffet, secret Santa exchange, and plenty of laughs through the night as you all reminisce over your lives. There’s just one thing that’s missing this year — Bakugo. Well, missing in person.
It was an opportunity of a lifetime, one he couldn’t turn down, no matter how much he argued against it. An esteemed agency in California was accepting applications for international transfers as part of the new “Heroes Around the World” program. It wasn’t that he wasn’t thankful, or even uninterested, but Bakugo’s biggest fear was being alone. Being away from you, especially in another country. After many nights spent hyping him up to take the chance, he accepted the offer. Before you two knew it, he was jetting off to the USA for three months.
And, unfortunately, three months turned to six.
Bakugo’s not coming home until March. The US commission was so impressed by his skillset (because why wouldn’t they be?) and wanted him to train an entire new wave of sidekicks by crafting a program to mimic Japan’s Hero protocols. You couldn’t bring yourself to be selfish and have him come home, no matter how much you missed him. So, you two made it work — 17 hour time difference be damned. Early morning voice notes, late night video calls, quick texts and even little homemade letters from time to time. Bakugo became fond of your hand written letters, especially when the paper would faintly smell of your perfume or have traces of lipstick kiss marks.
When you show up to Kirishima and Mina’s home, they welcome you with open arms, chirping how they’re happy you came and how much they’ve missed you.
Everyone starts arriving over the next hour, greeting you with warmth and love like always. It’s not long until their apartment is jam packed with all of your closest friends, shuffling around the kitchen with delicious food and drinks. Everyone shoves a present under the tree in the living room for later, truly adding a layer of joy to the atmosphere. Your heart aches softly as the night progresses, missing Bakugo’s hand on your thigh under the table or around your shoulders as you chat and laugh with everyone. The plan is to have Bakugo video call Kirishima’s phone during the secret Santa exchange, that way he’d still be included when everyone swapped presents. It’ll be 2AM for him, but he insisted it’s fine.
There’s a little pang in your chest when you look under the luminescent tree in the living room and see the one with his handwriting for Jiro. ‘To: Ears — Love: Kats’ with a skull drawn next to it. It’s endearing to see his love for your friends extend across the sea so effortlessly. Midoriya takes a seat next to you on the couch before everyone else meanders into the living room for the secret Santa exchange. His eyes gleam when they meet yours, a smile tugging on his lips and accentuating the freckles on his cheeks. “How are you doing?”
You nod and tilt your head with a soft smile of your own. “It’s nice to get out and be with friends. Being home for the holidays without Katsuki was starting to get to me.”
Midoriya’s eyes soften. “I know it’s hard. Only a few more months!” Before you get a chance to think too deeply about it, Kirishima claps his hands to get everyone to quiet down.
“Alright guys! Time to exchange presents.” He pulls out his phone and sets it on the dock by the TV, the little screen displaying a pending ‘Call’ screen. It’s not long before a familiar face appears, the room erupting in a hearty cheer.
“Bakugo!”
“Shut up, don’t all yap at once!” Bakugo grumbles with a grin on his handsome face. It seems his eyes find you in the room as you shoot him a little wave, his grin settling into a longing smile. “Kirishima, get things rollin’ before my ass falls asleep.”
The room chuckles as gifts are starting to be exchanged, anything from cute pairs of socks to video games to awkward stocking stuffers. No other presents are lining the tree skirt after a half hour of celebration, but you’re left empty handed. It’s awkward, to say the least.
“Are we missing one?” Kirishima questions with a frown. “There’s no way we left you out.”
Bakugo’s face sours on the phone screen, immediately upset that you’re excluded from the tradition. “What the hell? Someone better fess up. Don’t screw with my girl’s Christmas.” Suddenly, the video freezes and hangs up, leaving everyone silent as they turn towards you. How the hell could this happen?
“Why don’t you check the entryway?” Mina advises. “Maybe it was left there by mistake.”
You stand from the couch with defeat, sulking toward the door to double check. Who had you for secret Santa? Did they not know what to get for you, or were you truly forgotten? After a quick glance in the doorway, you come up short. Guess you won’t be getting a gift this year after all.
When you return to the living room, everyone seems to be staring at you with an apologetic look on their faces. Your head is hung low, aimlessly wandering back to the couch as you plop back down on to the plush fabric.
“No luck,” you whisper. “It’s okay, though. It’s not a big deal.”
The room is silent until someone speaks up.
“Look again.”
Wait. You know that voice.
It has you whipping your head up, looking around desperately to be sure you’re not hearing things. Like magic, Bakugo appears from behind the Christmas tree in the living room, his cheeky smirk illuminated by the bright string lights.
“Merry Christmas,” Midoriya whispers next to you, his eyes glossing over with emotion. “Sorry for tricking you!”
Before you know it, you’re launching off the couch and skipping over to Bakugo, throwing your arms around him excitedly. He picks you up, swinging around in soft circles, squeezing you tight enough to take your breath away. Once he sets you down, you pull back to look at him.
“Katsuki, how—”
Bakugo cuts you off with a kiss, cradling your face in his hands. After a moment, he releases you, all the love in your body flourishing at his touch.
“Commission gave me five days off. M’all yours,” he whispers, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “Izuku pulled some strings to get those corporate assholes to approve it.”
You turn toward Izuku, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before burrowing your face into Bakugo’s chest. God, you’ve missed the way he smells, his warmth…everything about him.
“Okay you creeps, stop starin’ already,” Bakugo jests to the group. Everyone shouts with glee, the party continuing in full swing with the whole family together — at last.
This is a Christmas you’ll never forget.
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Merry Christmas, Lauren!! I hope you enjoyed it. With much love from your secret Santa, Rei <3
@slayfics @maddietries @liluvtojineteyam
@Yoyolovesdaiki @catsoupki @purplescorpi0
@jays-adventure3 @simp-plague @napbatata
@www-marianette-org @obsessedpersona @kirishimaeijiromyman
@strwbrrykthv @hayatoseyepatch @awkwardchick87
@unriding @sylushi @darhinadadragon
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muwapsturniolo · 3 days ago
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Brutus 2 🦇 Chris sturniolo
"O-one hun-hundred and fif-fifteen times...." PT 1
NSFW AHEAD!!! mentions of murder, stabbing, assault (not detailed!!!), alcohol, blowjobs/face fucking, facials, cum eating, rough sex, biting, cream pies, choking, switch! Chris, Matt is a perv
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The police still couldn’t figure out what happened on the final night of Halloween horror nights. It’s been a month and the gruesome murders were still unsolved and left everyone scratching their head. The police took the right measures, they taped off the crime scene for weeks on end, rewatched the CCTV footage, and questioned the crew and attendees.
But they came up empty-handed.
They couldn’t figure out who committed the crime or why they did it.
But she knew.
When she was questioned, the police showing up at her door with her discarded tweed purse, she lied and said she didn’t see anything. Claimed she barely remembers that night due to the alcohol she consumed on the premises.
She knew it was wrong to lie to authority, to take away the possibility of a grieving family to finally have peace and to know the killer is behind bars. She knew if anyone found out what she did they would call her insane and probably throw her six feet under a jail - She didn’t want that.
She was lying to cover her own ass and the nameless killers, and she’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Especially if it meant they would continue watching her.
It was only a couple of days after that night when she felt as if she was being watched. She had just gotten out of the shower and walked into her bedroom to put on her pajamas when she noticed the clothes were on the floor.
That isn't where she left them.
She vividly remembered placing them neatly at the foot of her bed, folded and ready to throw on. Now they were thrown onto the floor in a mess, and her panties were missing.
Fear should have settled into her body, but instead, she proceeded to get dressed right in front of the open window.
With that being said, she went about her life as if nothing happened, as if she wasn't being stalked by two psychopaths.
Her routine never changed.
Weeks had gone by, minutes, hours - two months to be exact. She had given up the little bit of hope that those two would make an appearance. Honestly, she had forgotten about them until a Christmas party had gone wrong.
Her friends had forced her to attend, shoving her into a powder blue satin dress and a pair of silver heels to match. soon, she was at the party, standing in the corner with a frown on her face.
She wasn't having a good time. Her friends had ditched her as soon as they made it to the club, this guy who was completely wasted wouldn't leave her alone, and she was hot.
Deciding that she was over it and needed some air, she found her friends and told them she was leaving. She walked away, ignoring their drunken protests, and pulled out her phone, attempting to order an Uber.
It seemed like she didn't have any luck, the cellular device having no type of signal. With a huff she begins walking down the street, not noticing the two people following her.
"This is so stupid! This is the last time I let them drag me to a dumb party an-" A small scream escapes her mouth as she's pushed into an alley, her phone falling from her hands. Her body collides with a trash can, preventing her from falling into the muddy puddles of water from the melted snow.
She's soon shoved against the wall, the streetlamps casting a shadow over her attacker's face. She didn't need lights to know who the person was, the rancid smell of alcohol was enough.
It was the same man from the party, he had followed her out.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?! Get off of me!" She shouts in annoyance, trying to push him off. It was odd, the way she was completely sober and had better coordination should have given her the strength to push him away. But to no avail, he proceeded to force himself upon her, slurring his words in the process.
Just as his hand goes up her dress, he's yanked away and tackled to the ground, her savior immediately throwing punches.
She stays frozen against the wall, too shocked to even register what's happening.
A glimmer of light snaps her back into reality.
She watches as her savior raises his arm, a knife in hand.
She watches as the blade is plunged into her attacker's chest, his screams slowly drowning out as he chokes on his own blood. She watches her savior continuously bring the knife down, not stopping until he's satisfied.
His actions begin to slow, his breathing heavy as he slumps back, staring at the lifeless body underneath him.
She takes a hesitant step forward, freezing when her savior turns to her.
She already knew, but the mask adorning his face confirmed it.
Her savior was the same man from that night, the same masked man who was ready to kill her before being scared away by his partner in crime.
His wild and deranged eyes soften as they connect with hers, his breathing calming down.
They say nothing, the only sound being heard is the flurries of snow rushing past them.
She slowly approaches, holding her hand out before speaking softly, "Come on, let's go."
He looks down at her hand before standing up, towering over her. He points towards her discarded phone, his silence-speaking words. She nods and rushes over to her phone, bending down to grab it. She huffs seeing the cracked screen, cursing out the dead man in her head. Just as she begins to wipe the phone off, she hears a loud bang.
She whips around and sees both the masked savior and the dead body gone, her brows slowly creasing.
Where did they go? How did they disappear so quick?
Her thoughts are interrupted by a hand landing on her shoulder. She jumps in surprise and turns around to see the masked savior in front of her.
"Jesus Christ, " she covers her chest as her heart begins to beat quickly. She swears she heard him snicker softly, but before she could question him, he wrapped his hand around her arm and dragged her down the street.
In reality, she knows she should be scared and questioning him, but she stays silent, allowing him to guide her to wherever they are going. They soon arrive in front of a beat-up pickup truck, parts of the car rusting as snow sits in the bed.
He opens the passenger door and looks at her expectantly. She peers inside the truck, noticing the mess inside. The cans of Pepsi discarded on the floor, the wrappers from candy, the smell of cigarettes, and most importantly,
The small bloodstains on the seats.
She looks back at him, noticing the soft look in his eyes.
"You want me to get in?"
He nods, still refusing to speak.
"Are you taking me home?"
He nods once more.
"Do you know where I live?"
He tenses, the grip he has on her arm tightening. It's almost as if he's scared, scared of being caught for stalking. Scared she's going to scream, run away, reject him.
She snickers softly seeing the fear in his eyes, it's a bit ironic.
She says nothing, simply climbing into the truck and buckling herself in.
"Come on, I miss my bed."
With that, he closes the door and climbs into the car himself, quickly starting the engine and driving off. She watches silently as he drives down familiar streets, having driven down them herself whenever she's on her way home.
The car ride was filled with silence, it wasn't tense if anything, it was calming, the both of them relaxed.
They soon arrive and he kills the engine, staring straight ahead out the window. She turns to him, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face behind the mask.
"Thank you for helping me," she says softly. He gives a curt nod, his hands still placed on the wheel.
"Did you want to come in?" His head whips to her, his eyes holding confusion. She smirks, enjoying the hesitancy and confusion in his eyes.
" Come on, you've been inside anyway. Might as well come in with an invitation this time."
He huffs behind the mask but follows her actions in unbuckling the seat belt and climbing out of the car.
They walk inside the house, the girl kicking off the annoying heels and throwing her keys in the bowl on the stand. She walks to her bedroom, smiling to herself as she hears his sluggish footsteps behind her. She throws herself onto her bed, flipping onto her back and propping herself up with her elbows.
She looks him up and down curiously, attempting to familiarize herself with him again.
"How come you wear a mask?"
Like always, he says nothing, refusing to even glance in her direction. She pushes herself off the bed and approaches him, cornering him. No words are spoken between the two as she presses herself against him, his breathing speeding up. With a slow and steady hand, she trails it up his arm, her fingers soon fanning out against his chest.
She goes to touch the edge of the mask, but she's stopped by his hand firmly grasping her wrist.
He looks scared.
Despite the tight grip he has on her, she continues with her actions. Her fingers grip the edge of the mask, slowly pulling it off of his face.
He quickly turns his head, his hair falling in front of his face. She gently turns him back towards her, their eyes connecting as her fingers dance across the scar on his cheek.
"O-one hun-hundred and fif-fifteen times...."
A shocked expression makes its way onto her face. He spoke, he finally spoke, and the first thing he decided to say was a number.
"W-what?" She questions in confusion, raking her brain for what the number could mean.
"Th-the man....I sta-stabbed him one hun-dred and f-fifteen times."
She's shocked by the confession.
She didn't know a lot about murder, only having seen it and heard about it in movies and TV shows, but she knew it took a lot of energy and anger to stab someone that amount of times - He did it for her.
It was sick, it was twisted, and yet, it attracted her.
"Let me thank you," she mumbles, her hand leaving his face and trailing down his chest, soon finding its place over his crotch. She begins to palm him, watching his breathing grow harsh, their eyes still connected. A small whimper leaves his mouth, and she breaks out into a grin - his moans were so pretty, so soft,
Submissive.
She sinks to her knees, both of her hands working at his belt, soon throwing it to the floor. Her mouth waters as she pulls his pants down, his cock slapping his abdomen.
It was pretty, just like him.
It was long and thick, and had a bright red tip that matched his chapped lips. There was a vein running up the side that she knew would feel euphoric when sliding against her spongy walls.
He bucks his hips softly as she wraps her hand around his shaft, pulling it towards her mouth. She opens her mouth and allows a wad of spit to trickle out, landing directly on his tip. Her thumb swipes over the tip as she moves the spit around, starting to jerk him off.
His moans and whimpers are kitten-like, despite his horrific and brutal demeanor, he was like putty in her hands.
She enjoys the way his body relaxes against the door, his head thrown back and his mouth open as he pants softly. She kitten licks his tip before taking him fully in her mouth. His rough and calloused hands fly to her head, grabbing the strands of hair and forcing her to take him deeper.
She gags around him, tears forming in her eyes as she opens her mouth wider, but she keeps going. She bobs her head up and down, making sure to hum and fondle his balls in the process.
His moans and groans grow louder, and his actions become more dominant. It was like a switch was flipped in his head, his hips starting to slam against her face.
He shows no mercy as he fucks her face, his dick reaching so far down her throat and giving her no chance to breathe. Her actions of gratitude had quickly become sloppy, the mixture of spit and precum coating her chin and falling down to her chest.
There were even bubbles of the mixture forming, popping every time her nose hit his happy trail.
She manages to look up at him, her mascara tears and glossy eyes making her look so damaged yet innocent - It drives him over the edge.
He quickly pulls out of her mouth and releases all over her face, enjoying the way she gasps in shock.
It's like his body is on autopilot, nothing but excitement and adrenaline controlling his actions. His hand wraps around her throat, lifting her to her feet with ease. Their lips instantly mesh together, swapping spit as they hastily make out. She moans into the kiss as he tightens his grip on her throat, the wetness in her panties only growing. She could feel the sticky fluid in between her folds every time she clenched her thighs - She was aching for him to touch her.
He suddenly pulls away from the kiss and begins to lick his own semen off of her face, his eyes rolling back. She moaned at his erotic actions, the way his soft and spongy muscle glided over her cheek. She could smell the faint mixture of cigarettes on his breath, but she found herself not caring.
Suddenly, she's pushed away from him, her body colliding with the mattress. It all happens so quick, the way her powder blue dress is ripped into pieces, her soaked panties following.
He was like a rabid, feral dog, ready to take what he wanted and she was just as excited.
Her jaw drops and her back arches as he shoves his length inside of her, reaching to the deepest hilt. Much like his partner in crime, he stretched her out perfectly, her aching walls sucking him in and not letting him go. The bedframe bangs against the wall with each ferocious thrust, items falling off her nightstand due to the shaking.
He shoves his face into the crevice of her neck, his teeth sinking into the soft skin. He proceeds with his actions, the marking of his teeth covering her whole chest along with her breasts - Blood is drawn in certain areas.
It's an overwhelming amount of pleasure, so overwhelming that she can't even keep her eyes open nor hold him. Her arms lay flat by her head, her eyes clenched shut as her mouth remains open.
Her eyes fly open when her head whips to the side, the same hand that slapped her wrapping around her throat, squeezing tightly.
He's heaving like a dog, his pants mixed with groans, making him sound like a beast.
She weakly grabbed at his wrist, trying to ease the pressure on her throat, but it was no use. She had become lightheaded from the pleasure and lack of air.
She was close to passing out, but she was also close to reaching her orgasm, it was just a matter of which one she would experience first.
"You're going to kill her, ease up on the choking."
Her blurry eyes dart to the bedroom door, a choked gurgle escaping her mouth when she sees him.
He was here, the one with the painted face. Except, his face wasn't painted, and he was watching her be fucked by his partner.
She gasped for air when he released her throat, her eyes still trained on the other one. She watches as he takes a seat at her vanity, leaning back on the chair and manspreading.
"Don't look at me, look at him. He's the one fucking you."
She does as told, her eyes connecting with the man on top of her. He had the same look in his eyes from that night when he chased after the girl trying to run away.
"Tell him how good he's making you feel, he loves the praise,"
"S-so good- Nghh. Fuck- " She could barely speak a full sentence, her speech slurred.
"That's all you can do? Come on dollface, he killed someone for you! Show him how grateful you are! He finally gets to feel you after watching me fuck you, give him the experience he deserves."
Her mind is reeling, incoherent babbles of praise falling from her lips. The more she praises him, the harder his thrust become, her sobs of pleasure getting louder.
It's not long before she felt that familiar coil in her stomach forming, ready to burst at any second - and all it took was one final thrust from the man on top of her to push her over the edge.
Her whole body shakes violently, her eyes rolling back as she feels the static rush through her body. Her ears were ringing, her vision blurry as she came down from her high.
She lays there shaking, her fingers twitching as she pants harshly. She was worn out, fucked, and tired.
Suddenly, he stands up from the vanity and slams his hand down on Chris's back, "Look at her....and I thought I wore her out." They both look down at her, trying to figure out what to do next.
Matt suddenly bends down and moves her hair out of her face, grabbing her chin softly.
"Wake up doll, your night has just started."
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Which now makes me think more - when people accuse each other being paedos or other crimes, we must thoroughly research n do our best to verify these crimes before we judge. This is NOT saying that we should simply support someone who is guilty, but we DO need to make sure they truly ARE guilty, before we go ahead and crucify them. There ARE genuine predators out there, and they absolutely DO deserve to be silenced and made an example of to avoid n learn from, but there are MANY INNOCENT people who are being UNFAIRLY targeted by those who have malicious intent.
Since some people want more critical thinking, here you go -
Some of these ‘white knights’ who harass others even do this to cover up their own guilty consciences and disturbing actions. This can, in fact, be a red flag - especially when they start to garner a cult like following. This blame shifting on an extreme scale, so that they avoid being held accountable, and can continue to get gratification for their actions.
Why do ‘white knights’ (like the ones harassing me) PURPOSELY avoid facts? They’re a form of narcissist. Using factual information would undermine their whole plan to seek attention and validation. They want to steal power away from the stronger person to make themselves APPEAR stronger. Using factual information would ruin their ability to draw in supporters, who usually take them at face value in return for their own validation (like dominoes.) in fact, they tend to make one excuse they can milk for attention from others who they know are reliable for it. If you check most of the profiles belonging to those harassing me and their supporters, there’s a common thread or two. It’s not because they genuinely care, it’s because they share a general successful agenda for attention seeking. It’s like fish who are being fed, and all gang together to share the same food.
Did you know that 5% of people in the United States have a narcissistic personality disorder? All of these people are overly focused on their self-esteem issues. In turn, narcissists form strategies that are meant to enhance their poor self-esteem.
Among those individuals are two main types of narcissism: black knight narcissism and white knight narcissism. The distinction between the two lies in whether or not the narcissist is pro-social or anti-social.
To learn more about the differences between black knight narcissists and white knight narcissists, keep reading.
Pro-Social Narcissists vs. Anti-Social Narcissists
In order to evaluate whether or not a narcissist is pro-social or anti-social, you have to ask yourself three things:
What are the narcissist’s intentions?
How do they supply their self-esteem?
What kind of impression does the narcissist want others to have of him/her?
Pro-social narcissists want to help others. They want others to see them as good.
Of course, they want credit and praise for their good deeds. But, they add a lot of value to their friendships and society as a whole.
On the other hand, anti-social narcissists take advantage of others. They exploit others’ weaknesses for their own personal gain. Overall, they want others to fear them.
At the worst, anti-social narcissists humiliate and berate others. Often, these kinds of narcissists are the toxic, malignant individuals who represent the ‘typical’ narcissist.
The History of White Knights and Black Knights
You may have heard of the story of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. These knights repeatedly swore to do good deeds for the weak and innocent. In fact, they often called themselves heroes.
In these stories, there were also knights that self-identified as powerful and destructive. They thrived on dominating over the weak and innocent.
Those knights who only worked towards their own personal gain wore all-black armor. Because of their armor, these are the Black Knights.
In contrast, the knights who are offering help are the White Knights.
This story translated into the two main types of narcissists: Black Knights and White Knights. Just like the knights in the story, these different kinds of narcissists are either for or against helping common folks.
The Black Knight Narcissist
Just like with King Arthur’s Knights, the black knight narcissist is focused on defeating everyone else for their own gain. In fact, they thrive on putting others down. It makes them feel better about themselves.
These are the anti-social narcissists. And, some people refer to black knight narcissism as selfish narcissism. (This is even though both forms of narcissism are selfish at the center.)
They don’t enjoy helping people, and they may not even believe that these people deserve help. In their minds, everyone else is lesser than they are. And, the narcissist will make sure that they know it.
Black knight narcissists are not inherently evil, although they make come off like this. They don’t offer help to individuals in society. But, there is an explanation behind their behavior.
Black knight narcissists have such low self-esteem that they feel like they need to knock everyone else down. By taking everyone else down, they are picking themselves up.
Usually, this behavior draws back to the inner child. Then, they grow into adults with narcissistic behavior.
The White Knight Narcissist
The white knight narcissist is the individual who is contributing to society. They are helping people and bettering society for their own gain. While it is for selfish reasons, their help is great for those around them.
These individuals are pro-social. And, some people refer to white knight narcissism as altruistic narcissism.
At the very heart of it, white knight narcissists are looking to make an impact on the world in return for recognition. They want others to praise them for their good deeds. In the long run, they want to be remembered for everything they did during their lifetime.
You may find these individuals volunteering at food banks, working at hospitals, or contributing to charity. They aren’t the typical picture of a narcissistic individual.
While white knight narcissists may not seem harmful, they can be harmful to themselves.
They’re contributing to society and benefiting everyone around them, but they are hurting themselves. The individual equates others’ reactions to their worth.
If someone doesn’t say thank you, the white knight narcissist notices. These interactions negatively impact them more than they should.
Similarities Between All Narcissists
Both black knight narcissists and white knight narcissists have much in common. This is even though there is a difference in how they approach their lack of self-esteem.
Here are some of the qualities that you may find in both white knight and black knight narcissists:
Narcissists revolve around their own unstable self-esteem and base their decisions on how each will affect their self-esteem
Narcissists can’t engage in whole object relations, a thought process in which people can see themselves and others together with both likable and unpleasant traits
Narcissists can’t engage in object constancy, which is the ability to maintain positive feelings for someone when you feel negative emotions at the moment
Narcissists have an obsessiveness with their status
Narcissists have a binary sense of self in which they’re perfect or worthless
Narcissists have intellectual empathy rather than emotional empathy
Narcissists believe that someone needs to take the blame when something goes wrong
Both white knight narcissists and black knight narcissists have these personality traits in common. Even though they go about their wants differently, they have the same issue: low self-esteem.
I am becoming aware of the effect a lack of trust in the media has had on people, paired with a dearth of research skills.
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russellbby · 3 days ago
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Jealously doesn’t look good on you🙄
parings: f1 grid x fem!mercedes f1 driver!reader
in which: the young driver seems to get on very well with the younger drivers and jealousy starts to get to the rest of the grid..
requested: yes, by anonymous: Heyy, can I request something where the reader is the youngest f1 driver and is very closed off and don't talk much to any of the drivers, however when the younger drivers are around (kimi, ollie etc) she doesn't stop talking to them and the grid can't help but get jealous of her relationship with the younger drivers. thank uuu :))
a/n: I’m back guys!! This request has been sitting in my inbox for I don’t know how long. Hope you like it and start sending me in more requests! :)
//
Y/n, a young talent, record breaker, the youngest on the grid and the paddock princess. However, despite how much the grid loves and cares for her, they don’t know a single thing about her.
The young mercedes driver was entering the paddock, smiling and waving at the cameras before making her way over to fans to sign things and take photos before she made her way into the garage.
“The fans know more about her than us,” Lando mumbled as he had watched her interaction with the fans.
“Y/n has always been like this especially in formula 2, she would only talk on the radio and interviews” Oscar added.
“She’s just shy, don’t like talking and prefer to be alone. I learnt that the hard way when she became my teammate” George said.
“I just wish she would open up to us, it’s like her whole life is a mystery to us” Charles added.
//
Later, a few of the drivers had gathered in the lounge before the start of a busy weekend. During these times, Y/n is normally on her own with her headphones with a book in hand or on her phone.
This time around, she had her knees up with her book on her lap with headphones on with no care in the whole and having no intentions of joining any conversations or banter amongst the drivers.
However, her plan didn’t stay very long as she felt her headphones being taken off her head which made her look up at the certain aussie driver.
“Danny!” Y/n exclaimed as she got up and tried to get her headphones back, only for Daniel to lift them in the air, Y/n soon realised there was no point in trying.
“C’mon, you were being anti-social!” Daniel said.
“How do you even like reading?” Lando added which earned him a glare from the young driver.
“I mean he has a point, how do you find it entertaining?” Max asked.
“This shows you lot barely finished school or dropped out” Y/n told them.
“We just want to talk to you! We know nothing about your life!” Charles added.
“There’s nothing too exciting that happened, just a normal childhood!” Y/n said before she got ahold of her headphones and went back to the same position before the drivers interrupted her.
“One day, we will get something out of her” Pierre said.
//
The morning passed, Y/n was just talking to her engineers as FP1 had just finished and were gathering information in preparation for FP2.
Y/n knew that F2 was going on this weekend, she was hoping to be able to see some of her closest friends and her wishes were fulfilled when she looked outside her garage.
She saw Ollie, Kimi and Paul chatting outside, this made her face light up with a smile, which was rare for her and she knew her team were watching her, but she didn’t care.
"Guys!!" she called out, jogging over to them.
"Y/n!" Kimi opened his arms as the young girl launched into a hug. The pair laughed as they pulled apart, before Y/n hugged Ollie and Paul.
The four started talking continuously about anything and everything and laughing, which caught the attention of the grid.
“It’s like she’s two different people,” Lando said as he nudged Oscar pointing over to the scene.
“That’s Y/n for you” Oscar replied.
//
“Y/n!” Daniel called as he made his way over to where she was sitting down on a table outside the mercedes hospitality. Soon enough, Daniel wasn’t the only drivers who joined her.
“What’s this? A gathering?” Y/n asked.
“You with Ollie, Kimi & Paul?!” Charles said.
“What about it? We are best friends, we are all practically family” Y/n replied confused.
“So they know everything about you?!” Pierre added.
“Well, duh!” Y/n told them.
“You are like a completely different person when you’re with them compared to us!” Max added.
“Didn’t realise that there was a drivers meeting outside the Mercedes hospitality” Kimi joked as he walked over with Ollie and Paul.
“They are saying I’m different person with you lot compared to them” Y/n mumbled.
“Well, they ain’t wrong!” Paul said.
“I’m going to tell your mum you still haven’t opened up to anyone but us,” Kimi joked.
“Don’t blame me if you don’t get invited over to our annual barbecue!” Y/n replied.
“Your parents love me too much to not invite me over, I’m their favourite!” Kimi added.
“We will be stealing Y/n until FP2! See you all later!” Ollie told them as he an Paul became a barrier for Y/n and Kimi.
“What the f*ck just happened?” Lando said.
“That’s one way of putting it..” Daniel replied.
“Maybe we should of just accepted it at the beginning..” Charles mumbled.
//
Throughout the rest of the day and weekend, the drivers stared down the 3 young drivers who made Y/n smile and laugh continuously.
And from that day on, the grid accepted that they were never going to find out anything about Y/n. Despite it all, they still continue to try and get stuff out of her, which leads to nothing.
They were really jealous of Ollie, Kimi and Paul.
However, they learnt the hard way that jealously doesn’t look good on them..
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awordsmith · 2 days ago
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paper dreams 𝜗𝜚 s.r
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۶ৎ in which you and Spencer take your daughter up to your mountain cabin to go ice skating for the first time.
katcember
who? dad!spencer x wife!reader  when? s7  category: fluff  content warnings: proofed! nothing really, all fluffy goodness, reader drooling over spencer's forearms... reid with warmth  word count: 8.4k a/n: i tried something a little different in this fic, where i use '–' as a namesake, i'd really like to know if you like it or dislike it, your feedback helps a ton! ...enjoy!
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The day was waning, barely any orange was confined to the sky; the storm swirled in blues and greys only. The air had turned frosted, and the wind was ever present–all the hints that winter was here. Your daughter’s 5th birthday… 
You and Spencer had been debating about whether or not going up to your newly bought mountain cabin in Mapleshire was a good idea, but his coworkers had seemingly convinced him, much to your appreciation. 
He’d dropped you off at Mommy and Me for the last class before the holiday wrapped itself around everyone and their social presence. He’d spent the day getting the car ready, it would be a long trip, especially at this time of day. You said goodbye to —, whom you had met at the start of Mommy and Me, and who had been great friends to you and —, your daughter. 
You held —’s hand, pulling her close. Though she was wearing a coat, you couldn’t be too sure if she was warm enough or not. She had her father’s eyes, a mix of your’s and Spencer’s complexion, and a mole on the side of her neck, which you again attributed to Spencer, but more so toward Diana, his mother. She had a sneaky mole right behind her ear, you remember her mentioning it when she held — for the first time.
A smile stretched across your face at the memory, but then — tugged on your arm, and you left your thoughts in your head, focussing now on your daughter, “look, it’s daddy!” She pointed toward Spencer as he pulled up in the black jeep you’d bought together specifically for trips such as this one.
“Yeah,” you kissed her forehead, “yeah, I see him.” She puffed out her chest as she began marching forward, you laughed at her attempts to open the glass door.
She frowned, watching as Spencer emerged from the driver's seat. You sent him a wave and a smile when he rounded the jeep–hands stuffed in his pants pockets–and leaned against it. 
He returned your smile when he saw you, eyes dancing with playfulness. You opened the door and your daughter ran out, her hair bouncing with each step, between the two, you thought she looked like the little mischievous main character of a Hallmark movie, trying to get her parents back together, or some other wild cinematic plotline like that.
You paused your walking midstep, heart and mind working in sync to capture the image before you: Spencer–the father of your child, your husband, and best friend–lifting the bundle of joy you’d made together, spinning her around like a fairy. The soundtrack of her giggles and his laughter mixed with a backdrop of a cold, misty, magical Christmas behind them.
The laughter stopped as Spencer set — on her own little feet again, a contented sigh escaping his lips, but visible in the chilled air. “Hi,” he said, tilting his head, eyes tracking up and down your frame.
Your heart warmed as it had when you’d first met, “hi,” you replied.
“Hi!” — shouted, then shivered, “I’m cold.”
You shared a look with Spencer, though they were both warning, they were two different types. Spencer ignored your eyes as he bent down, taking your daughter’s hand in his own, shaking it, “hi, cold, I’m Dad.”
You face-palmed, chuckling into your hands when your daughter snatched her tiny arm away and turned to you in annoyance, stomping her foot, “Mommy, he did it again!”
Spencer stood in mock shock, holding a hand over his chest, “wha–how dare–I did no such thing.”
— turned to him, though you couldn’t see it, you were sure she looked unimpressed. She walked around them as you stepped forward, meeting Spencer near the car. You gave him a peck on the cheek, pulling away as you heard your daughter’s failed attempt at opening the car door. “Open it!” She shouted, crossing her arms.
“Alright,” you nodded, “come on.”
You pulled open the door and helped her into her new car seat. It was black, matching the exterior of the jeep. The seats were leather, to which you had a hate-love relationship with. You were thankful Spencer already had the heater blasting, — looked pleased as well.
When Spencer slid into the car on the other side, he faced you, pulling your hand into his. Though you’d been married 5 years, he still managed to give you butterflies. 
You were the same age, though you were a few months older. You’d met in college through a mutual friend, and though he was earning his 3rd degree and second phd and you were in your first year, you’d hit it off. A year of friendship turned into two years of dating, and yes, you were young, but you honestly didn’t see yourself marrying anyone else.
Your parents, of course, wanted to meet him first, though you spoke about him constantly and they seemed to really like him. You remember the first time he’d taken you to see Diana around the end of your second year of dating–before he’d asked you to marry him.
He had been nervous, though you weren’t sure why. She seemed alright, she had Alzheimer’s, but she wasn’t any less of a person, in fact, you really enjoyed her company and saw her regularly when you were free. You’d talk about everything, but mostly about Spencer. You hadn’t thought to tell him about your little visits, but Diana had slipped up about it–and why shouldn’t she have? She had no idea it was a secret to him.
You had feared seeing him after the fact, sur he would be mad at you. You recalled the trembling in your hands–unable to control it as you met him for coffee. You thought it might be the end of your relationship, so when he pulled out a ring box and proposed, you were more than a little shocked. Though you shouldn’t have been, it was just like him to pull something like that, as you’d come to find over the years–as you should have perceived from your years of knowing him...
“—,” Spencer whispered your name, pulling your attention to his soft, aglow gaze.
You smiled, squeezing his hand in yours, “what did you forget?”
He scoffed, but his grin grew, “I can’t believe your first thought is that I forgot something.”
Your eyes narrowed as you looked around the car, noting the bags in the open cargo compartment behind your daughter. She smiled at you and you smiled back, asking if she wanted her tablet. 
She nodded enthusiastically, though Spencer muttered a small complaint as you rummaged through her backpack. You nudged him on the shoulder as you handed it back to her, “start driving.”
He’d argued with you a little when you’d said you’d wanted to buy one, but, as it was you whom he was arguing with, he’d given in pretty easily. It wasn’t as if you had her on it all the time, only for times like this–on long road trips, or when the sitter needed to keep her occupied when cooking. 
You had slowly moved — out of diapers within the last year, though two years ago, she’d taken her first step at age 3. She was a spontaneous child, and thankfully, Spencer was home to witness the gracious moment, and you thankfully had gotten it all on video. You cherished the memory of him holding her hands as she forced one foot in front of the other.
“I love you,” you whispered as Spencer cranked the music up.
His eyes crinkled, heart swelling, “I love you too.” You didn’t say it often as you both found it unnecessary, you both already knew it to be true, which is why when you did say it, it was notable–because for you to say something that didn’t need voicing, meant that you just wanted to say it, and that, that was special. 
Spencer pulled into a gas station. You huffed a laugh while he avoided your eyes, “I knew it.”
He held up his hands in defense as he stepped out of the car, “Listen, I–I never said I forgot.”
“Mmhmm,” you nodded, your nose scrunching up, “yeah, you just failed to check the tank.”
“In my defense,” he leaned his head into the car, the door halfway shut, “I was running errands and packing all day.”
“And when you say ‘all day’–”
“Okay, okay, I’m gonna pump the gas now.” He laughed, closing the door with a thud.
You snorted and threw your head back, shaking your head. “Mommy?” — called, “Can we go in the store?”
You eyed the amenity, “we should get snacks for the road, huh?”
She nodded enthusiastically, “Definitely.” You covered your chuckles at her inability to pronounce the word fully. It was both adorable and endearing.
“You’re just saying that because you’re not the one paying,” you joked, but again she nodded her head and said–
“Definitely.” You sighed, unbuckling your seat belt and sliding out of the car, Spencer rounded it, asking what you were doing.
“— wants to get snacks.”
You pulled open the backseat door, unbuckling your daughter. She hopped out, landing on her feet. Spencer’s eyes widened and he bent with her, arms splayed out as if she might fall. Your heart swelled at the worry in his eyes–his expression.
He glanced up at you with a frown, you bit your lip, fighting the urge to attack him with kisses. “Be safe,” he said, keeping an eye on — as she skipped in front of you, toward the shop.
“We’ll be fine,” you assured, pausing, watching his expression, and before hesitating a moment longer, you pulled him down by his collar and kissed his cheek.
Spinning around instantly after, you chased your daughter before he could react. Blush darkened your cheeks both from the bitter air and your actions. The inside of the convenience store was a flame of warmth to the gloom of the outside. “Mommy!” — called, swaying on her heels as she waited for you in one of the aisles.
“I’m here,” you came up behind her, eyes wandering around the candy. You looked up and caught the gaze of the store clerk, you smiled briefly, then went back to collecting snacks. “Do you think Daddy wants coffee?”
Your daughter halted, her fingers that were running along a row of MnMs coming to a cursory halt. She turned to you with a look you’d begun to distinguish as her “Hotch stare”. Well, Spencer had originally caught onto it and had given it its name– one you didn’t understand until you’d met the man himself. 
Spencer had typically tried to keep his work life and home life separate–especially before the marriage–but after you’d had —, he’d wanted the team to meet you, and you, of course, had wanted to meet them for some time before.
Your first introduction was at a Christmas party thrown by one of his team members. He’d been working as an FBI agent for almost five years when you’d gotten married, you’d fallen pregnant with — not long after. 
He let his coworkers meet you exactly a year after — was born. Her birthday fell in December, which was the month Spencer took the most time off, other than your anniversary, though you never held him accountable if he only stayed a few hours between cases, you knew he did the best he could, which was also why you took the most trips in December.
Spencer had been clear with everyone that he would not answer work calls, and everyone knew that in December, he meant it. He blocked agent Morgan one time, though the poor guy had been calling Spencer in as a joke, that was about the only thing he never found funny, and he still didn’t
“Right,” you plant a hand on your hip, “you’re right.”
For someone so young, your daughter was incredible at picking up on social cues, you knew it was rare for geniuses to give birth to other geniuses–but for Spencer and —, you thought it was entirely possible.
— followed you over to the drink station, arms full of different candies. As you made two cups of coffee, one sickly sweet, — wandered over to the chip aisle and collected a few more things. You smiled sardonically at the total, huffed about paying, paid, and braved the grim winter once more. You felt like Anna on that mountain in nothing but a gown.
“Heh-hey, there you are,” Spencer opened his arms for a hug, but instead of hugging him back, — walked around him and demanded with a shiver–
“Open the door, Daddy.”
You snorted at Spencer’s guffawed look, shrugging when he looked at you for help. He sighed, opened the door, and helped her into her car seat. You approached him as he shut the door, enclosing your daughter in the heat and coziness of the car. 
You waited for him to turn before saying, “Open the door, Daddy.”
He rolled his eyes, but followed orders once more, waving a hand as if to say, ‘yes, your majesty’. You bit back a laugh and set the cups of coffee in the middle console. “Thank you,” you grinned up at him, sliding your body into the seat a moment later, sighing when you found the warmer still on.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered with a forced frown, shutting the door when he was sure all of your person was inside. You laughed as he made his way to the other side of the car.
“We can switch off,” you said an hour on the road, — was munching on something from her bag, ignoring the world around her.
“I’m fine,” Spencer brushed away your offer.
“I know,” you persisted, “but, if you need to,” you clamped a hand over his, drawing his eyes from the road to where your palm met the top of his grip on the steering wheel. His expression softened and he smiled, giving you an appreciative glance before turning his attention back to the road once more.
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Ere long, you arrived at the cabin. It was stuffed securely on the side of a mountain, but the gap from the mountain to the road wasn't big and you trusted it. You had to pass through Mapleshire, the small mountain town that sold you the land, to get to the cabin. — was out cold in the backseat, so Spencer went to open the door and get the fireplace going while you kept the car on and began pulling out the luggage with as little noise as possible.
You had the entire weekend planned, —’s birthday was Sunday, and you already knew what you wanted to do for her. You had thought about it for a while, though you always knew you wanted to introduce the sport on her birthday, you didn’t know which would be the right age. She’d barely started walking two years ago, and you thought it was too soon for her fourth birthday. This year though, she was confident, and you were sure she could learn it just as she’d learned to walk, with her father’s hands guiding and leading her, and you, there to capture the memory for when she wanted to look back in the years to come.
Spencer ran back outside to watch — as you headed inside with the first set of bags, you switched off until all things were safely secure in the cabin–it was more of a lodge, but the word ‘cabin’ had a coziness to it.
The snowy home wasn’t completely deserted as Mapleshire was less than ten minutes away and neighboring cabins surrounded the mountains. There was even an actual lodge, where tourists stayed during their time away from everything else. You’d lodged there once when you were in the market for a winter home.
You wished you could stay there all season, but alas, you had work, Spencer had work, and — had daycare. Though, you were debating about asking if he might want to come next weekend. You could make it tradition, and maybe… when — got older, you could stay for the entirety of her school break, though Spencer may have to work a little throughout, his presence would be more than enough.
You shoved the thought away as you prepped — for the trip through the shivering breeze that only seemed to be alive at this height and around this time of night. She shuddered and tightened her hold around your neck, her legs–under the blanket Spencer had wrapped around her when you’d first pulled her out of her car seat–tightened. “Mommy?” Her slurred question pulled a tight frown to your lips; you rounded to the cabin’s front porch–your steps hurried as they endured the thickness of the snow. Spencer would have to shovel a walkway in the morning.
The soft yellow glow and toasty heat of the fire was like a blanket of cookies fresh out of the oven draped around your shoulders, suffocating you in love. You closed your eyes for a moment, breathing in the aroma, “Mommy?” — called again, head tilted to the side, eyes groggy.
“Here,” you slipped your shoes off, shut the door behind you, and stepped down the hall toward the room you’d curated for her when you had time off. Spencer had picked a few things out, including the bed sheets and comforter.
The room was still pretty chilly, though you weren’t sure if you should let her sleep in the living room tonight as you and Spencer still had a lot of unpacking to do. You’d need to go into town early in the morning for a bit of shopping, you’d probably end up eating breakfast at Windrift, the diner in town.
You settled — into bed, tucking the extra blanket around her, “here, let me see your shoes.” you whispered, yanking up the cloth just enough to reach her feet. She’d been dressed in comfy clothing, but you wanted to take her jacket off. “Give me your coat and then you can go to bed.”
She huffed but listened. “We’re here, aren’t we?” She said in her broken words, her voice trembling with both sleep and toddler tongue.
You smoothed down her hair, “yes, sweetheart now get some rest.”
You stood to move, but she sat up instantly, “Wait–the light.”
You frowned, — hadn’t been afraid of the dark since–well–ever. You didn’t have a lamp ready and you couldn’t very well keep the big light on. “Tomorrow,” you smiled, “tomorrow we’ll look for a lamp.” Some antique stores must have something you could use.
“But–” though it was dark it was as if you could see her lip quiver with the tone in her voice. It must have been because she wasn’t used to this area, it was new territory for her, and she’d never slept anywhere she hadn’t been before.
You sighed, feeling bad, maybe you could give her your phone’s flashlight, just until you were ready for bed, then she could sleep with you and Spencer–or until she fell asleep. You were approaching her bedside again, reaching into the back pocket of your jeans when Spencer appeared in the doorway, knocking slightly, “What’s going on?”
“—’s afraid of the dark.”
“I am not,” she turned on her side, sleep beginning to leave her, which scared you. You couldn’t have her up at this hour.
“It’s not a bad thing,” you reached over, rubbing her side.
“Hold on,” Spencer said, slipping away.
You sighed, you’d switched seats with Spencer a third of the way through the journey, and had switched again when you’d stopped at another gas station, — had been asleep by then, and you were both already so tired.
“Here,” Spencer stepped through the threshold of the room and headed to the other side, where — now faced. “Here,” he murmured her nickname, “look at this.” — watched as he plugged in a nightlight, the room aglow softly with yellow light; it mimicked a fireplace, like the one in the family room. “Better?” Spencer brushed a lock of hair out of her face, her smile as bright as it could be at that moment, you were sure.
“Thanks, Daddy.” She mumbled.
He stood as her eyes fluttered closed and she nuzzled herself into the pillow. Spencer left the door ajar when he met you in the hallway. You nodded toward the room, “when did you buy that?”
He waved his hand, biting back a smile, “it was supposed to be her birthday present. I’ll just have to get her another one tomorrow.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know about it.” You scoffed, crossing your arms as he walked back toward the living room.
“You don’t know all of my secrets,” he halted his movements and spun around, his eyes flirting as he reached behind your ear and pulled out a single rose, “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
You rolled your eyes and huffed as a caustic expression grazed your features. You took the rose from his hand, it was real–your breath caught as you watched his figure disappear behind the corner to the drawing room. Grinning, you twirled the rose between your fingers, he was just full of surprises, wasn’t he?
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You woke up with a good weight over you, something warm pressed against your face. At first, you thought it might have been a very small creature, but upon opening your eyes, you saw —. “Morning, Mommy.” She giggled, not fully pronouncing ‘morning’.
“Oohh,” groaning, you brought your hands up to your face and rubbed the sleep away. You sat up, — falling to your waist as you caught her back. “Where’s Daddy?”
— leaned in, cupping her hand over her mouth as she whispered, “Still sleeping.”
“Oh no,” you frowned, “now, we can’t have that can we?”
Her continued giggles were all the confirmation you needed to wake your husband up. You began shaking him, — slid off of you, and now between the two of you, cupped Spencer’s head, smoothing down his hair as she whispered in his ear, “Daddy, wake up!” Her voice went high at the end, louder than the other words.
Spencer stirred and you held a hand up to muffle your giggles. “What year is it?” He grumbled, eyes peeling open.
“Daddy!” She squealed like he’d just asked a question with the most obvious answer.
“Yeah,” he stretched, grabbing — under her armpits and spinning her around to sit her in his lap as he sat up. He looked down at her with a lopsided smile, “Hi.”
She covered her laughter with her hands and looked up, whispering, “Hi,” like it was their own, little secret. You wanted to capture this moment on camera, but perhaps that would ruin the moment, and you were sure there would be other times like this–so you deigned to just watch. 
The soft glow of the winter sun cascaded along your husband and daughter. You thought to leave them to their own devices while you went to take a shower. Rounding the bed, you pecked Spencer on the lips, “I’m gonna wash up.”
“Ewheww,” — scrunched up her nose, but a smile was adjacent to it.
You could hear them begin a tickle fight and pillow war as you reached the bathroom. It didn't have a tub, but a stand-up shower surrounded by fogged glass. You brushed your teeth while waiting for the water to heat up. You’d take — a bath in the hallway bathroom while Spencer took a shower afterward.
An hour and a half later the clock read 9:30 am. — was ready, wearing one of her favorite winter outfits. She looked like she’d be warm even when you stepped outside and headed into town.
“Ready?” Spencer found you and — in the den, he’d just come back in from shoveling a path to the car, and he was snow-bitten.
“Yep,” he kissed your cheek.
“Did you want to go to the movies later?” he motioned with his hands.
You shook your head, “I’m not sure, maybe we could come home and make smores, or something. I really just want to spend time alone as a family today, before all the circus tomorrow.” You pressed your hands against his chest and looked up into his goldened eyes. “Maybe after we finish skating tomorrow,” you amended. You were determined to teach your daughter how to ice skate, even if it took her some time, you loved the idea of sharing something so magical with her, and perhaps a movie at the local theatre would be a nice way to end the day before heading back up to the cabin.
Spencer nodded, “Okay, I’m fine with that.” 
You smiled, eyes now back on your daughter who seemed entranced by the idea of tying up her beret herself. You took it from her hands and tied it for her, patting her shoulder thereafter, “Come on, we need to eat.”
— dashed out the door and toward the car, the crunch of the snow beneath her small feet warmed your heart. She wore little brown mittens which further disabled her ability to open the door.
Spencer started the jeep while you helped — in her car seat. “Where are we going?” She asked as you strapped her in.
You glanced at Spencer, and he answered, “A cute little diner.”
“What’s a diner?”
Your eyebrows furrowed, had you never said the word diner around your daughter? Then a seldom expression fell to your face, or maybe she just forgot. “It’s a restaurant,” you shut her door, but not before bopping her on the nose.
She grimaced, whining, “Mommy I thought I told you to stop that!”
You huffed and crossed your arms as you slid into the passenger seat, “you let Daddy do it.”
“I do not!” She harrumphed, mimicking your actions.
You turned to your husband, eyes accusingly, “You liar.”
He held up his hands, falsy shocked, “Hey, now…”
“Mmmhmm,” you looked him up and down, unimpressed. “Drive, Daddy.”
He chuckled, pulling his seat belt over himself, and clicking it into place.
You played Christmas carols for —, laughing as she clapped and sang along. Ere long Spencer pulled into a lot across the street of the diner and wasting no time, the three of you headed toward the crosswalk and entered Windrift.
“Whoa,” — laughed, skipping to and fro. You asked her to keep calm and she promised she would do her “absolute best,” as if it were some kind of mission. 
While Spencer was led toward a table, however, you and — paused to play one of the mini-games the diner had in the front. You were caught up in securing a teddy bear from the claw machine (— being your number one cheerleader) when Spencer cleared his throat and appeared behind you like the grim reaper.
— laughed, saying you were in trouble. You whined as Spencer drug you away, you 0; claw machine 1.
You and Spencer ordered for — first, then he let you order, and finally, he placed his. The hostess read back everything she had scribbled down on her tiny notepad and hurried off toward the kitchen.
The red-stained, glass-shaded lights hung above you and every booth in the diner. A jukebox sat a few booths behind you, propped up against the back wall of the aisle. It looked like it’d been haunting Windrift since the place had been built. “You think it still works?” You nodded toward the music player.
Spencer shrugged, “we can ask.”
“No,” you waved your hand, “it’s fine.”
Your food came thirty minutes later, you were done around 11, and now back in the car, you were headed toward the only grocer Mapleshire had. It didn’t have a name like most other places in town, the lettering at the top simply read ‘grocer’.
You wandered around with a cart, grabbing essentials such as water and cereal (— was really specific about the cereal she preferred, you blamed Spencer for speaking so elaborately when she was in your tummy, she now had his curse of using words that were abnormal for a 4-year-old’s vocabulary. 
You headed back up to the cabin, unpacking the very specific cereal — claimed she’d die without. Most of the morning had gone by already, there were maybe 5 hours left until it was —’s bedtime. You thought of ways you could waste time, briefly, you thought you might have time to take — out on the ice, but then you recalled how exactly you wanted it all to happen, and thought it best to save it for tomorrow.
Instead, you and Spencer roasted marshmallows in the den via the fireplace. You were certain this would also be —’s first time learning what things like ‘roasting marshmallows’ and ‘smores’ meant. 
You loved that you would be there for everything–but you absolutely cherished the idea of Spencer being part of it all too. You knew he felt the same and you also knew he’d have to be dead for him to miss anything.
“I want another one,” — patted her stomach. 
You noted the chocolate around her mouth as she yawned. You smiled, glancing between your daughter and your husband, “Actually, I think it’s time for bed.”
— huffed, but she didn’t whine, “Can we eat more tomorrow?”
“Only if you clean up super nicely and bed head right-right now!”
She glanced at Spencer, but then frowned and turned back to you. Leaning in and holding up a hand, — whispered so softly so that Spencer wouldn’t be able to hear–but he did. You were sure of this as he stood, prepping to follow his daughter toward the hall bathroom. “She called me your loyal knight?” His eyes popped as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.
You grinned and kicked your feet up on the coffee table, stretching your arms behind you, “I believe that means she knows who rules this family.”
“With an iron fist,” Spencer clicked his tongue as he walked away.
You laughed and sat up again, reaching for your mug. Spencer had made cocoa and you had the bright idea to buy whipped cream and cinnamon powder to sprinkle on the top, one of your better concoctions.
Around 7:30 pm, you heard — and Spencer leave the bathroom, heading for her bedroom. “All done?” You shouted from your spot on the sofa.
“Yeah!” Came Spencer’s shout a few seconds later. You stood and made your way toward your daughter’s room, finding your husband tucking her in tightly. The nightlight on–once again mimicking the fireplace in the den. It glowed softly, lighting up the room like a candle would, though lower to the floor and not in the center of the room, it shone well.
You had just stood up from kissing —’s forehead when she called, “wait.”
You and Spencer shared a look before turning to your daughter once more, “yes, what is it, —?”
“Can you tell me a story?” ‘Story’ came out as ‘sory’ and you wondered if you should begin booking her first dentist appointment soon.
Another look shared between Spencer and you told you you were thinking the same thing, — had never before asked for a bedtime story, just as she had never been afraid of the dark before the night prior, but you supposed children changed over time. Her brain must be developing, and so her personality–her fears and everything in between were now growing.
“Yeah,” you said, moving back toward your spot near her twin-sized bed. Spencer joined you, crouching as you settled on your knees.
“What–what story do you want to hear about?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know.”
“All-alright,” Spencer swallowed, hesitant, “once–once upon a time there was a-uh,” he turned to you visibly terrified, though you couldn’t fathom why.
You picked up where he left off, “a daring knight,” you wanted to snort because of course that was the first fantasy character to pop into your head–just because — had said something about it earlier.
“A knight like Daddy?” She asked.
“Yes, yes,” you nodded, unconsciously feeling around the space for Spencer's hand, “a knight like Daddy” He tugged your hand toward his thigh and held it, rubbing minuscule circles into your palm with his thumb.
“Then…was there a queen like Mommy too?”
“Uh, yeah,” you smiled, “the Knight protected the Queen, they were very close.” Your heart thudded in your chest, but as you moved on with the story it began to calm and you could see —’s chest begin to rise and fall in a slow rhythm.
“I think she’s asleep,” Spencer whispered after a time.
“Yeah,” you squeezed his hand, “let’s go.”
The hallway was chillier than —’s room, so you ran toward yours to grab a blanket. Spencer followed you, leaning against the doorway as you wrapped yourself in the knitted quilt. “Are you planning to take a shower tonight?”
You shook your head, shuddering, “tomorrow.”
“Yeah, probably best, it’s too cold now.”
“Are you gonna clean up?”
When he said yes, you thought to follow him, but paused at the last moment and decided to prep the bed so he could change into something more comfortable and fall asleep more quickly.
You lit a candle as you worked, snorting when you heard Spencer curse down the hall as he more than likely stubbed his toe on something. You were always telling him to wear the house slippers you bought, but he never listened. “Serves you right,” you muttered under your breath.
A little while later, Spencer appeared in your doorway, “hey,” you muttered.
“Hi,” he watched you, and you couldn’t put into words exactly what expression he used when he looked at you. It was a mix of emotions you’d seen over the years, it was as if you’d given him the moon–as if you had decorated the night sky just so he’d have something to watch when the sun left his sight.
You could see it in his eyes, but he wasn’t a poet, and he wasn’t trying to beat around the bush, “thank you,” it said, but what you thought it meant was ‘I love you’. 
“Knight?” You crossed your legs under the covers and faced him as he flipped the light switch off and approached his side of the bed.
“Yes?” He smiled cheekily.
“Back there, you were acting a bit strange.”
He averted his gaze which he only did when he was nervous, embarrassed, and/or hiding something–lying.
“Spencer?” You questioned, reaching over to grab his hand. He let you. He also let you force his head back toward yours. You searched intently, looking for an explanation to his odd behavior, the only light visible from your phone once you held the flashlight up to his face.
“I couldn’t–” he huffed as if trying to find the words, “I’ve never heard a bedtime story…” he admitted, biting back a frown–though it only served to bring a pout to his face.
Your heart did that thing it always did when he looked extra adorable. “Spencer Reid,” you called, his eyes finally finding the courage to return to you, “would you like to hear a bedtime story?”
Were it anyone else, he would have thought they were making fun of him–teasing him, even, but it was you. You and your perfect laugh, you and your warm hands, you and your kind, loving, heart. He smiled and pulled you to his chest, “— —, will you tell me a story?”
You snuggled close to him, giggling as he brushed a lock of your hair out of your face–it tickled. “Always,” you agreed, whispering, “close your eyes.”
You watched his eyes flutter shut, you could smell him, he smelled good, though he was dirty with the day's events, he had that ever-lasting scent to him–coffee and old leather. It was like he’d stepped right out of one of his Victorian novels.
“In a place–long ago–not too far away, there lived a girl in a small village.” He hummed against the beginning of your story and you smiled. “For most of her life, she thought it was herself against the world, and she wouldn’t let the world beat her… little did she know, however, it wasn’t the word she should have been afraid of,” your whispers filled the calm confines of your room.
“She braved the earth alone, fighting every day like it was her last, until she came upon a boy, who seemed the exact opposite of her.
“He laughed at the oddest of things, elated the queerest of sayings. He could go on and on about nothing and everything, and for once, the girl wanted to listen to someone other than her own thoughts.”
Spencer chuckled, though he tried to hide it. You didn’t mind, you loved that he was enjoying your story. 
“The girl and boy became friends, but that’s when she realized there were things far scarier than the world.”
“And what was that?” Spencer quirked a brow.
You pushed yourself up and out of his hold, his eyes flew open as you leaned over and murmured into his ear, “love.”
You pulled back, noting his raised brows, “why was love scarier than the dangers of the world?”
You wanted to squeeze him and never let him go, overjoyed at the fact that he was taking your story seriously. You were sure–had it been anyone else, they would have laughed, telling you it was enough. But not Spencer, because Spencer was Spencer, the only reason you needed to love him.
“Because along with love,” you began, “rejection existed. Everything has a balance, true love is to unrequited love what summer is to winter–and that–that was scarier than anything… Because it meant that the girl could indeed be hurt, and she was human, which made it more fatal than any physical wound she could have ever encountered.”
“Then end?” Spencer raised a brow, looking up at you.
You huffed, a tranquil expression settling over your features, “perhaps.”
He shook his head, but a delicate smile appeared on his lips, “thank you.”
You huffed with pride, “always,” and nudged him with your head, like a cat, he thought.
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The morning isn’t as bright as the day before, the curtains weren’t drawn back, but what caught your attention first was the buttery aroma floating from the hall and into your room. The door was left ajar, you raised a brow, a half-awake smile dawning on your face.
You rubbed your eyes, ridding yourself of the crust that built up the night prior. There was a soft glow, however light it might have been, rolling to the side of the bed and planting your feet on the floor, you found the source. It was the nightlight Spencer had bought for —’s birthday. You smiled, she must have brought it in when you were sleeping, and an empty bed meant she, along with her father, was awake.
You stood, stretched, and right your consciousness before following the scent that woke you up so calmly. You paused for a moment, taking in the picturesque scenery before you. Crossing your arms, you leaned against the wall where the walkway ended.
— was sitting on the counter, mixing a bowl of some kind of composite, Spencer spun around in the kitchen, almost as if he’d choreographed a dance for exactly that purpose. “Having fun?” You called after a second, both bodies stopped instantly, and both heads jerked in your direction.
You covered up a snort, noting pancake mix on —’s tiny nose. “What’s so funny, Mommy?” She asked a grin spread across her face.
“Nothing,” you waved a hand, stepping forward, “you take a shower?” You propped yourself up on one of the barstools.
“Forturnalty, yes,” he smirked triumphantly, “— here was able to keep her promise of letting Mommy sleep while Daddy got in the shower.”
“He made me,” your daughter accused, “he said if I wanted to surprise Mommy, I had to.” Her words blended, causing the swelling in your heart to increase.
“Aww, thank you, baby.” You leaned over the counter and kissed her forehead.
“Ew, Mommy, your breath stinks,” she waved a hand in front of her nose, leaving the mixing spoon in the bowl.
“Okay, okay,” you held up your hands, backing away slowly while Spencer died in the background. “Mommy’s going to go brush her teeth.”
“And shower?” Spencer idiotically added.
“That’s okay,” you pointed a finger his way, “I’m going to remember that.” 
Spencer’s face fell, he held up his hands–almost like he was mimicking you–as if he’d done nothing wrong, “ooo, Daddy’s in trouble.” — whispered, eyes wide.
“That he is, —,” you nodded sternly, “that he is.”
An hour later, you were showered, and and dressed–and your breath no longer smelled of mold. Pancakes were stacked on a plate on the counter near Spencer–who was washing dishes while — still sat at the counter, now eating a plate of chocolate chip pancakes, nose fully free of mix.
“Hey,” you rounded the counter, leaning over Spencer to kiss him on the cheek.
“Hey,” he murmured, looking down at you with the eyes of a man sick with love.
“What are we doing today?” — asked with her broken speech, you grabbed a few paper towels from the roll and rounded the counter, sitting beside her to wipe her mouth of the chocolate. Spencer slid a plate of pancakes in front of you–a bottle of water came soon after.
“Thank you,” you accepted the utensils and began slicing through your delicious breakfast.
“Always,” he sighed, throwing a kitchen rag over his shoulder. He unbuttoned his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves, you let your eyes fall over his arms as he seemingly continued washing the dishes. 
Watching him made you wonder why he hadn't rolled his sleeves up in the first place, but then you understood he had just begun washing them when you went to kiss him, and the sink was still full, and there was still a couple of dirtied kitchenware scattered across the area.
You hadn’t realized you were drooling until — said something about it. Spencer craned his head slightly to get a look and you dropped the fork in your hands to wipe the saliva. He snorted once he saw you and you glared, though couldn’t help your eyes tracking over his exposed skin.
You huffed, determined to finish your pancakes without looking at him. You were angry-stuffing your mouth full of buttery, chocolaty goodness when — reached over and tapped you, “Done, Mommy.”
“Alright,” you sighed, setting your fork down, you were ¾ done, but you were more than ready to start your day, you would just have to get back to your breakfast later.
Spencer cleared the counter as you stole — off to her room, no doubt to get her ready for what you had planned. He’d spent hours going shop to shop just to find the right pair of skates, and even then, you were a nervous jitter about ‘what if the skates don’t fit her’ and ‘what if she doesn’t like the color’.
He’d reassured you more than enough times that they were fine and — would love them regardless of the color or model or make, though he knew he’d have rubbed your back and kissed your cheek however many more times you needed.
He headed toward your shared room, grabbing your scarves and mittens. He wrapped his around his neck and yours around his arm. The mittens were stuffed into his pocket as he began packing a bag for the trip.
There was an ice ring near the edge of town, it was Mapleshire’s biggest attraction, though it had separate times for children and adults, or rather, people who knew how to skate. If you left now, you would arrive right when they opened, around nine.
The car ride was smooth, — was wearing her mayoral coat which you’d picked out, especially for this day, and a plaid skirt, which Spencer had bought specifically to match the coat. It was adorable how his geeky, book-nerd style was evident, even in the form of his daughter’s clothing.
—’s snow boots protected her socks from getting wet as she jumped up and down, excited with the view–the anticipation. 
“Happy birthday.” You smoothed down the top of her head, “Come on, let’s get wristbands and sign that waver.”
Well, Spencer got the wristbands and signed the waiver while you and — sat on one of the benches behind the barrier that separated everything else from the ice. The sky was gray, but not gloomy–just the opposite. 
Children of all ages surrounded you, from toddlers to teenagers, parents, of course, were there too. Some had cameras like the one that hung around your neck, others had their phones out, already recording.
You preferred your camera because it was meant to capture scenery like this, the focus was great and it automatically blurred the things around your center point.
“Ready?” You finished tying —’s shoes, she loved the brown of the base of the skates and the blue laces, of course she did, you had no idea why you’d been so worried when picking them out. Spencer stood in front of you as you laced your skates. “I’ll get her used to the ice, let the skates get cold.”
He nodded and held his hand out for the camera. You pulled it from your neck and set it in the palm of his hand, large hands–you’d noticed this the first time you’d met him, they were slender, like musicians, but long too, which was why you’d first thought he was a pianist.
“Alright,” you leaned down, keeping — close to the wall, “first, we need to get our skates cold, so we're going to stay close to the wall.” You forced her in front of you, one arm under her armpit, the other holding onto the wall. Both her hands were clutching the wall and you were surprised at how calm she was. She wasn’t crying, or begging to get off because she was scared to fall. You thought she was being very Spencer-like, or perhaps, this was all —.
A few minutes later, Spencer had called you over, letting you know he’d bought and placed your bags in a locker. The only thing he'd kept was his phone and the camera, now strapped around his neck. He shrugged over your mittens which you had neglected to put on until now, and which you desperately needed.
He took a few photos of you as you slowly moved more toward the middle of the rink, your skates getting colder with each round you made. You decided to stop when you almost bumped into a father and son, Spencer making his amusement known as you embarrassingly skated toward him again.
“I think that’s enough for Mommy.” You huffed.
“Maybe you just need a little more practice.” Spencer batted his dumb, long eyelashes.
“Daddy!” — shouted, but a smile grazed her tiny face.
You sighed, patting her on the back, “thanks for trying to pretend.”
“With pleasure.” She nodded aggressively and tried to furrow her brows into a very serious, very Hotch expression. Unfortunately, it was undermined because of the way she pronounced pleasure as ‘pweajer’. 
You smacked Spencer’s arm for snorting, then held out a hand for the camera. He slid it over with grace, taking —’s hand in his. “Let me show you how a pro skates.” 
— had fallen a couple of times, but she’d taken it like a champ, she was learning the ropes easily, she was a natural–it almost felt ironic in a way.
Your first date with Spencer had been to an ice rink, it was on a whim, sure, but it was still so incredibly special to you. Sometimes you thought how, if the restaurant hadn’t overbooked that day, you never would have walked down that street at the exact moment the ice rink opened in town. 
You never would have stood in line for half an hour eating street food with too loud children, never would have found out how good a skater Spencer was and how horrid you were. (Skating on ice was undoubtedly different from skating with rollerblades–though that also had an ironic notion to it.)
Spencer probably wouldn’t have cracked up every time you fell, wouldn’t have helped you up after every fall, and wouldn’t have fallen himself trying to catch you that last time. You wouldn’t have shared so much so easily with each other that quickly.
You recall the exact moment you knew it would be him or no one. The moment you knew you’d made the right choice in confronting your feelings; it was the moment you knew you were either going to marry him or die single.
He’d just helped you up for the millionth time after trying to hold in his cackle. And just as you’d calmed down, holding the railing, a kid–a girl–fell and began crying. There were no parents in sight, no adults, so it drew your attention immediately. Spencer–without a single second of hesitation–skated toward her and bent down, obviously asking her if she was okay and if she knew where her parents were.
He was able to locate the father, in a few seconds, skating her over to the exit. She must have been no older than six or seven. Time around you moved forward, but the image was ingrained into your brain. You knew he didn’t think so, but to you, Spencer was nothing less than perfect.
— called your name, pulling you back to reality. She and Spencer were skating toward you slowly, he was skating backward, holding her hands. He kept glancing behind him to make sure it was clear. Your heart warmed as the chaos around you froze, like the ice before you. You held up the camera and snapped a photo, the image perfect, just like your husband.
He would be there, you realized, for everything, just like he was here now: in front of you, holding your daughter’s hands… 
Her first school recital, her first crush, her first disappointment–her first heartbreak. He would be there for and after every single one. Picking her back up, hand in hand to lead–to guide her; showing her how to move one foot in front of the other, and you would be there to capture it all.
The illustration in front of you looked like something out of a fantasy; a paper-drawn dream.
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a/n: more than halfway through writing this fic, i remembered i'd wanted to listen to seeing blind by Niall Horan, but it played it the background along with willow by Taylo while editing... ily cari !!
taglist: @darkmatilda @theylovemelody
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xotyla · 2 days ago
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pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader word count: 15k genre: no smut, heavy angst, fluff towards the end warnings: it’s dark, abuse, stalking, toxic relationship, manipulation, the reader is mentally unstable, plot twists, heeseung has a weak spot for the reader, the reader's name is iseul, violence, and overall it’s just dark, so read at your own discretion. synopsis: a girl who's out of her mind and heeseung, who's in love and down bad for her but needs help. tyla's notes: in the beginning, i was going to add smut but decided not to because i wanted this to have HEAVY angst. if you guys want a part two because heeseung does do something unexpected, i can make one; just let me know, but enjoy and soon I'll be doing a permanent tag list!
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Lee Heeseung and Iseul met through their mutual close friend, Jungwon, during a small gathering at Jungwon’s apartment. Iseul, who had just moved to the city, caught Heeseung’s attention immediately with her striking confidence and wit. 
Iseul was not the type to blend into the background; her fiery personality demanded attention, and she seemed to have some sort of mysterious allure that left people curious yet cautious to approach. Though she often kept people at arm’s length, Heeseung’s kind and genuine nature intrigued her.
The connection between them sparked instantly, and Jungwon couldn’t help but play matchmaker, knowing that Heeseung’s gentleness just might be what Iseul needed to soften her edges.
Heeseung was the kind of man women often gravitated toward. His soft-spoken charm and genuine warmth made him irresistible, but they also made him a great target for manipulation. Heeseung had a history of giving too much and asking too little in return, often leaving him burned by those who saw his kindness as weakness.
Despite his past experiences, Heeseung maintained his faith in people. When he met Iseul, her possessiveness initially felt comforting—a stark contrast to the way others had treated him. But as their relationship deepened into something more than just friends and into something real, Heeseung realized that her intensity could be overwhelming, especially when she felt threatened.
Iseul’s possessiveness stemmed from a deep-seated fear of losing the people she cared about. She’d had her own share of heartbreaks, and when she found someone as pure-hearted as Heeseung, she clung tightly. Her jealousy often caused scenes, especially when other women approached him. 
At a party one evening, Iseul spotted a woman laughing a little too closely with Heeseung. Without hesitation, she stormed across the room, her voice sharp as she confronted the woman. 
The room fell silent as Iseul’s words sliced through the air, and though Heeseung tried to diffuse the situation, the tension lingered. “I’m not going to let anyone take you from me,” Iseul whispered to him afterward, her eyes filled with both fear and assurance in an odd way. 
Heeseung, though visibly uncomfortable with Iseul’s outbursts, couldn’t bring himself to push her away. He saw the vulnerability beneath her sharp exterior and felt a sense of responsibility to protect her, even from herself. 
One night, as they sat on a rooftop overlooking the city, Heeseung gently confronted Iseul about her behavior. “You don’t have to fight for me like that,” he said softly, taking her hand in his. “I’m already yours.” For a moment, Iseul’s defenses crumbled, and she admitted her insecurities. “I just... I can’t love you, Heeseung,” she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. Heeseung’s heart ached as he pulled her into a comforting embrace, promising her he wasn’t going anywhere. 
Despite their passionate connection, their relationship often felt like a tug-of-war. Iseul’s fiery love burned brightly but could instantly spiral into destructive jealousy. Heeseung was struggling to balance his desire to be with her and his own personal need for stability. Their interactions were often intense and filled with tender moments and heated arguments. 
Iseul was in love with Heeseung even if they hadn’t been together for long. She quickly got attached to him and she couldn’t let him go so easily either. She saw him as a person but also as someone who was her property and she couldn’t let anyone take what she owned away from her. 
Heeseung worked as an office worker and his company was having a gathering where the workers could come together and bring along their partners but Heeseung’s biggest mistake was letting Iseul come with.
A female coworker, unaware of Iseul’s reputation as the jealous girlfriend, playfully touched Heeseung’s arm as she laughed at one of his jokes. Iseul’s blood boiled instantly. She could feel herself itching to hurt the woman, wanting to claw her black nails into the female’s skin deep enough to make her bleed and leave marks in her flawless skin forever.
Iseul had thoughts like this a lot. Heeseung made her want to hurt people and she knew it wasn’t healthy but she didn’t care. She had to protect him from women who wanted to take advantage of him and use him for their own personal gain.
Iseul, who was standing a few feet away from them, let her feet make their way over to the pair. Her jaw tightened as she got closer, her eyes darkening, looking cold and distant. “You think it’s funny, don’t you?” she spat at the women, her voice dripping with venom. The coworker stammered, confused, but Iseul could care less.
“Get your filthy hands off what’s mine.” She grabbed Heeseung’s wrist and yanked him outside before he could protest. 
Heeseung was embarrassed. He knew bringing Iseul was a bad idea from the start but he knew she’d have something to say if he didn’t bring her. He also knew that his coworkers would be talking about this until God knows when. Talking about how he lets his girlfriend boss him around like he’s the woman in the relationship or how she’s jealous, probably due to insecurity.
Heeseung didn’t have anything to say to Iseul. He honestly didn’t have any words, just letting her call a cab for them and drive them to the apartment they shared together, staying quiet the entire ride home. 
As they entered inside the apartment, the second the door closed, Iseul pinned him against it, her voice low and menacing. “You’re mine, Heeseung. I hate having to remind you.” She pulled him into a bruising kiss. Heeseung didn’t fight back whatsoever. He kissed her back because even though he was embarrassed and terrified, he was also thrilled in a sick way.  
Oh, and it didn’t stop there. 
Iseul’s jealousy reached a fever pitch at a nightclub. Heeseung, as usual, had attracted attention just by being his kind and approachable self but also by being a good-looking guy. A woman at the bar kept making excuses to talk to him, even brushing her hand against his. Iseul, watching from a distance, snapped. She stormed over, grabbing the woman’s drink from her hand and throwing it in her face. “He’s not available.” Security had to intervene but Iseul didn’t care even as she and Heeseung were practically thrown out of the club.
And as usual, they went home, the car ride silent and when they’d get inside of their apartment, the tension between them erupted into a fiery encounter. Her dominance in the bedroom mirrored her control over their relationship. She demanded everything from Heeseung—his love, loyalty, and complete surrender. And Heeseung, despite knowing how destructive she was, gave in willingly every time. 
Weeks later, after the nightclub situation, Heeseung was invited to a friend’s wedding and of course, he brought Iseul along. Heeseung had already talked with her prior to this event about controlling herself even if it was hard but no, the opposite of controlling herself happened. 
A bridesmaid had been openly flirting with Heeseung throughout the night, and Iseul was visibly seething. When the woman leaned in too close during a group photo, Iseul snapped. She yanked Heeseung away, her voice icy as she addressed the bridesmaid. “I don’t care if this is your best friend’s wedding. Touch him again, and you’ll regret it.” The situation quickly escalated when Iseul, the woman in front of everyone, left the entire wedding party stunned. 
Heeseung tried to calm her down, but Iseul’s rage was unstoppable. “Do you enjoy this? Watching them throw themselves at you? Do you like hurting me?” she screamed at him later that night, tears streaming down her face. This was their daily cycle. 
She would get mad, cause a scene, get kicked out or leave, get a cab, and have a silent car ride, arrive home, and have sex, or Heeseung would try to explain how he felt about the situation even though Iseul would sometimes get pissed and turn his words against him. This was their cycle, a never-ending one.
Despite her unhinged behavior, Heeseung loved her, and he didn’t know how many times he had to say it. He loved Iseul and he knew she did everything out of care for him. He was infatuated, addicted to the intensity of her love. Iseul had a way of making him feel wanted like no one else ever had, even if it came at a cost. 
After each explosive fight, she would pull him close, her touch both possessive and tender. “You belong to me,” she’d whisper, her lips brushing against his neck. And in those moments, Heeseung couldn’t imagine being anywhere else but with her.
But as time went on, Iseul’s control over their relationship became suffocating. She monitored his phone, questioned his every move, and isolated him from his friends. Jungwon even tried to intervene once Heeseung started telling him these things, even having to witness it for himself along with his other friends. 
Let’s take it back three weeks ago.
The air was light and jovial as Heeseung sat around the table with closest friends—Jungwon, Jake, Sunghoon, Jay, Sunoo, and Niki–reminiscing about old memories. 
The group had gathered at a cozy cafe for a rare chance to catch up, and everyone was high in spirits. Joining them was Minji, Heeseung’s childhood friend, whose bubbly personality and playful demeanor had everyone smiling (except Iseul). She had been reminiscing about their younger days, leaning close to Heeseung as she laughed about their old antics. 
“You remember how I used to always beat you at soccer, Heeseung?” Minji teased, nudging his arm playfully. Her eyes sparkled with nostalgia. “And how you used to blush whenever I called you cute? I swear, you had the biggest crush on me back then!” she added, giggling.
Iseul, seated beside Heeseung, had been unusually quiet during the exchange, her sharp dark brown eyes narrowing as she watched Minji’s hand linger a little too long on his arm. The tension in her posture was palpable, but no one addressed it—until she finally broke her silence. 
“Wow, Minji,” Iseul said, her tone sarcastic. “It’s so cute how you’re stuck in the past. But unfortunately. Heeseung’s moved on. You should too.” The table fell silent as all eyes turned to her. Heeseung’s face turned pale, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Minji blinked, startled. “I–I didn’t mean anything by it,” she stammered, glancing at Heeseung for reassurance, help even. 
“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t.” Iseul replied, her smile as sharp as a knife. “But just so we’re clear, Heeseung doesn’t need to be reminded of some childish crush. He has me now. And trust me, I give him everything he needs.” Her hand moved to Heeseung’s thigh under the table, gripping it possessively.
Jungwon, sensing the growing tension, stepped in. “Iseul, come on, she’s just joking around. Minji and Heeseung are old friends–there’s no harm in reminiscing.” 
Iseul’s gaze snapped at Jungwon, her expression darkening. “Old friends? Is that what you call flirting these days?” she shot back. “If you’re so concerned about my boyfriend, maybe you should focus on being better friends instead of letting random women paw at him.”
Jake leaned forward trying to defuse the situation. “Iseul, that’s not fair. Minji didn’t mean anything by it. She’s always been like this with Heeseung–it’s harmless.”
“Harmless?” Iseul’s laugh was bitter. “You don’t think I see the way she looks at him? The way she touches him? If you all think this okay, then maybe you’re the problem.”
As her voice grew sharper, Heeseung finally spoke, his voice weak. “Iseul, please, it’s not–”
“Shut up, Heeseung,” Iseul interrupted, her words silencing him instantly. She turned her piercing gaze back to Minji. “And you,” she started, “If you ever touch him again, I promise next time it won’t be pretty.”
The table was frozen in awkward silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Sunghoon opened his mouth to speak, but Jay nudged him, shaking his head. It was clear no one knew how to handle Iseul’s outburst. 
After a moment, Iseul stood, yanking Heeseung’s arm and yanking him up from his seat. “We’re leaving,” she announced coldly, not even sparing the other a glance as she dragged Heeseung out of the cafe.
Once they were gone, the remaining friends exchanged worried looks. “This isn’t normal,” Niki said quietly, his voice filled with concern. “She’s… controlling him.:
Jungwon sighed, rubbing his temples. “I know. But what can we do? Heeseung won’t listen. He’s completely under her thumb.”
“She’s dangerous,” Sunoo murmured, his voice trembling slightly, shaken up from the situation. “We need to find a way to help him before it’s too late.”
Back in Iseul and Heeseung’s car, she gripped onto the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white, as she drove in tense silence. Heeseung sat in the passenger seat, his head bowed in defeat. “Why do you let them disrespect me like that?” she finally asked, her voice cold.
“They’re my friends, Iseul,” he said softly. 
“No,” she snapped, her eyes flashing as she glanced at him. “They’re just people trying to take you away from me. You belong to me, Heeseung. Not them, me.”
And Heeseung, despite everything, could only nod, too tangled in her web of possessive love to fight back.
The rest of the drive back to their apartment was suffocatingly silent. Heeseung sat motionless in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the city lights blurred into streaks. Iseul’s jaw was clenched, her hands still gripping the steering wheel tightly as though she were fighting to keep control—not just of the car, but of the entire situation. 
When they finally arrived home, Iseul slammed the door shut behind them and threw her keys onto the counter, spinning around to face Heeseung. Her expression was unreadable, a dangerous mix of fury and desperation. “Do you even understand what you put me through back there?” 
Heeseung, already exhausted from the evening, ran a hand through his black hair and sighed. “I didn’t do anything, Iseul. Minji is just a friend. You overreacted, and now everyone thinks–”
“Thinks what?” Iseul interrupted, her voice rising. She stepped closer to him, her eyes wild. “That I’m the crazy girlfriend? That I’m unreasonable for protecting what’s mine? Don’t you dare try to make me feel like I’m the villain here, Heeseung.”
“You are being unreasonable!” Heeseung snapped back, surprisingly even himself.  “Minji wasn’t doing anything wrong. She’s been my friend for years, and you humiliated her—and me—in front of everyone!”
For a moment, the room was silent. Iseul’s lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at him, her chest rising and falling with each sharp breath. Then she laughed—a low, bitter sound that sent a shiver down Heeseung’s spine. 
“You think this is about her?” she said, her voice trembling. “This is about you. You let her touch you. You let her remind you of some stupid crush, like I don’t even exist. Do you have any idea how that feels?”
“Iseul…” Heeseung started, his voice softening, but she cut him off again. 
“No,” she said, stepping closer until there was barely any space between them. Her hands gripped his shirt, pulling him down to her level. “You don’t get to make any excuses. You’re mine, Heeseung. Mine. And if I have to keep reminding you of that, then I will.”
Her lips crashed against his in a fierce, possessive kiss, leaving no room for hesitation. Heeseung froze, torn between resisting and giving in. His body betrayed him, responding to her intensity even as his mind screamed at him to pull away.
The kiss deepened, and Iseul’s grip on him tightened, her dominance overwhelming. She pushed him against the wall, her nails digging into his arms. “Say it,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. “Say you’re mine.” 
Heeseung’s heart pounded in his chest. “I’m yours,” he murmured, the words escaping before he could stop them.
The tension in her shoulders eased slightly. “Good,” she said, her voice softer but not less commanding. When they finally pulled apart, Heeseung slumped against the wall, his head spinning. Iseul stepped back, her expression calm now, almost tender. “I only do this because I love you,” she said quietly, brushing a hand through his hair. “You know that, right?”
Heeseung nodded weakly, unable to meet her gaze. “Yeah. I know.”
But as she walked away, leaving him alone in the dimly lit room, a deep pit of unease settled in his chest. His friends worried faces flashed in his mind, and for the first time, he wondered if they were right.
He was losing himself to her. And the worst part was, he didn’t know if he could ever walk away.
He moved over to the couch, throwing himself on it with his head in his hands, constantly replaying the scene at the cafe and the confrontation in his mind. His friends’ concerned expressions lingered in his thoughts, their unspoken pleas for him to see the truth. But every time he tried to imagine leaving Iseul, his heart twisted painfully. 
In the other room, Iseul sat on the edge of their bed, staring blankly at the floor. Her anger had dissipated, replaced by a gnawing sense of emptiness. She told herself she had done what was necessary to protect their relationship. Yet a small, nagging voice whispered that she was pushing too hard, that she was losing Heeseung even as she clung to him tighter. But instead of addressing her insecurities deeply and openly, she steeled herself, convincing herself that her actions were justified. 
Heeseung’s phone buzzed on the table, breaking the silence. He glanced at the screen; it was a message from Jungwon.
Jungwon: Heeseung, are you okay? We’re really worried about you. You don’t have to deal with this alone. Please talk to us.
His chest tightened as he read the message. He wanted to respond, to reach out for help, but fear and guilt paralyzed him. He knew Jungwon and the other only wanted the best for him, but he also knew how furious Iseul would be if she found out he had confided in them. The memory of her sharp words and the fire in her eyes made his fingers hover uncertainly over the keyboard. 
“I see you’re texting someone.”
Iseul’s voice, which sounded so beautiful when she was calm, cut through the quiet like a knife, making Heeseung jump. She stood in the doorway, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. Her eyes flicked to his phone, and he quickly loved the screen, shoving it into his pocket.
“It’s just Jungwon,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. 
Her lips curved up into a small smile, but there was no warmth in it. “Jungwon, huh? Let me guess—he’s telling you I’m a problem, that you need to leave me, right?”
Jungwon and Iseul had been friends for about a year now and he knew all about her relationship but he never knew why they ended or failed but now he could understand why. Iseul always painted others to be the problem while convincing everyone around her that she was a victim. She’s a master manipulator, if you will, and now that Jungwon is seeing what his best friend is going through, he’s definitely regretting trying to play matchmaker. 
“Iseul, no one said that,” Heeseung replied, his voice shaky.
“They don’t have to say it,” she said, still calm, stepping closer to him. “I can see it in their eyes. They think I’m crazy. They think I’m the problem. But you know better, don’t you, Heeseung? You know how much I care about you and want to protect you. You know how much I love you.”
Heeseung looked up at her, his throat tightening. “I know Iseul. I know you love me.”
“Then why do you let them poison your mind against me?” She asked, her voice shaky like his was moments ago. “Do you want to leave me? Is that it? I mean—after everything we’ve been through?”
Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. He shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “No, Iseul. I don’t want to leave you.”
She cupped his face in her hands. “I couldn’t handle losing you, Heeseung. I need you.”
Heeseung’s heart ached as he looked into her eyes. He knew she was scared to lose him; he could feel it. He wanted to help her, fix whatever was broken inside her. But deep down, he knew he was breaking down with her.
Later that night, Iseul had finally fallen asleep. The two heading to their bedroom after the conversation she had instantly went to bed once her head rested on his chest. Heeseung lay awake staring at the ceiling. His phone vibrated against the nightstand. Another message from Jungwon. 
Jungwon: You don’t have to reply. Just know we’re here for you whenever you’re ready.
Tears pricked at Heeseung’s eyes as he read the message. He felt trapped between two worlds—the toxic intensity of his relationship with Iseul and the lifeline his friends were trying to offer. 
Now, fast forward three weeks later. 
Heeseung and Iseul were the same as usual but it got worse. She started getting physical with him. She’d throw things at him, like glass objects, even hitting him and he was scared. He hadn’t contacted anyone for those three weeks because she was watching over him like a hawk and for once in his life, he was genuinely scared. 
The once vibrant Heeseung had become a shadow of himself, his days consumed by fear and the suffocating grip of Iseul’s control growing tighter. 
One evening, after another grueling day of being scrutinized, Heeseung sat quietly at the kitchen table, stirring a cup of tea he didn’t even want. Iseul was pacing back and forth, her voice sharp and accusatory as she berated him over something trivial—a stray sock he’d left on the floor.
This was beyond jealousy now; it was over the smallest things. 
“You don’t care about me, do you?” She slammed her against the kitchen table. The loud noises causing him to flinch. “I give you everything, Heeseung, and this is how you repay me? With disrespect?”
“Iseul, it’s just a sock,” he said weakly
Her eyes darkened, and in an instant, she grabbed the mug of tea and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall, tea splattering like a storm of rage. “It’s not about a fucking sock–it’s about you not appreciating me!”
Heeseung’s heart raced as he stood up, his hands shakingly raised defensively. “Iseul, please, calm down. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
But she wasn’t listening. In her fury, she picked up a book from the table and threw it at him. He ducked, the book narrowly missing his head and hitting the floor with a dull thud. She advanced on him, her hand striking his arm hard enough to leave a stinging sensation. 
“You’re pathetic,” her voice filled with anger. “Always trying to make me feel like I’m the problem. Maybe if you weren’t so weak, I wouldn’t have to do this!”
Heeseung didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His mind was screaming at him to leave, to run, but his body wouldn’t move. He was praying that someone would help him. Anyone.
Meanwhile, Jungwon, Jake, and Sunghoon had been growing increasingly worried. They hadn’t heard from Heeseung in weeks, and every attempt to contact him had gone unanswered. Even his social media had gone dark, a glaring red flag that something was wrong.”
“Heeseung's not okay,” Jungwon said firmly during a group meeting at Jake’s apartment. The six of them sat in a tense circle, their faces grim. 
“No shit.” Jay muttered. “The last time we saw him, she dragged him out like a prisoner. He hasn’t even read any of my messages.”
“I say we go to his place and check on him,” Sunghoon said, crossing his arms. “Heeseung might hate us for it, but I don’t care. That girl’s fucking deranged.” 
Niki nodded. “We have to do something. Heeseung’s never been gone for this long without talking to us. What if she’s hurt him?
After a brief discussion, they agreed to visit Heeseung unannounced the following evening. They needed to know if he was okay, even if it meant confronting his crazy girlfriend.
The next night, Heeseung sat in the living room, staring blankly at the TV. Iseul sat beside him. Her arm draped possessively over his shoulders. Every time he shifted, her grip tightened, a silent reminder of her control.
A sudden knock at the door shattered the oppressive quiet. Heeseung stiffened, his eyes darting to Iseul, who immediately rose, her expression hardening. “Stay here,” she commanded, walking toward the door. 
When she opened it, she was met with the sight of Jungwon, Jake, and Sunghoon standing on the threshold. Their faces were a mixture of worry and determination. 
“What are you doing here?” Iseul demanded, blocking the doorway so they couldn’t even get a glimpse of Heeseung.
“We’re here to see Heeseung,” Jungwon said firmly. “Is he home?”
“He’s fine,” she snapped. “You don’t need to see him.”
Jake stepped forward, his tone sharp. “We’re not leaving until we talk to him. Move.”
Iseul’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I said he’s fine. He doesn’t need you interfering in his life.”
At that moment, Heeseung appeared in the hallway, his pale face and hollow eyes shocking his friends. “Guys…” he started, his voice barely audible. 
“Holy shit, Heeseung, you look terrible,” Sunghoon said, pushing past Iseul before she could stop him. Jake and Jungwon followed, forcing their way inside. 
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Iseul shouted.
“We’re taking him with us,” Jungwon said coldly, his gaze fixed on Heeseung. “He doesn’t deserve this.”
Heeseung looked between his friends and Iseul, his heart pounding. He wanted to leave to escape the nightmare he’d been living, but the fear of what Iseul might do held him back. 
“You’re not going anywhere, Heeseung,” Iseul said, stepping in front of him and gripping his arm tightly. “You’re staying here. With me.”
“You don’t get to decide that,”Jake said, his voice firm. “Heeseung, if you want to leave, we’re here to help you. Just say the word.”
Tears welled in Heeseung’s eyes as he looked at his friends. For the first time in weeks, a glimmer of hope stirred in chest. But when Iseul’s nails dug into his arm, the hope flickered and nearly died. 
“I…” he hesitated, his voice trembling. 
“You can’t take him,” Iseul said. “He’s mine.”
But as Heeseung reached out, his steady presence grounding Heeseung, the words he had been too afraid to say finally escaped his lips.
“I want to leave,” Heeseung whispered, his voice breaking.”
Iseul’s grip faltered for the briefest moment and in that instant, Jungwon and Jake pulled Heeseung away from her. Iseul screamed, her voice a mix of rage and heartbreak, but Sunghoon stood between her and Heeseung, blocking her path. 
She tried everything to get to him but Sunghoon wouldn’t budge. 
It was finally happening. He was leaving her breaking all of his promises and throwing all of his words out of the window. She watched as they took him, breaking down at the sight. Tears ran down her pale cheeks and she fell to her knees instantly crying her eyes out. He was really gone. He really chose them over her. 
The ride back to Jungwon’s apartment was silent save for the faint hum of the car engine. Heeseung sat in the backseat, staring blankly out the window, his body trembling from exhaustion and the adrenaline that still coursed through him. Jake drove with clenched hands on the wheel, his jaw tight, while Jungwon sat beside him, constantly glancing back at Heeseung with concern.
When they arrived, the group ushered Heeseung inside. Sunghoon locked the door behind them, as if afraid Iseul might appear at any moment. Heeseung sank onto the couch, his shoulders slumped. His friends exchanged worried glances before Jungwon spoke.
“Heeseung, you need to tell us what’s been going on,” he said gently, sitting across from him. “We’ve been worried sick about you.”
Heeseung hesitated, his throat tightening as he tried to find the words. His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair. “I… I don’t even know where to start,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Start anywhere,” Jake said firmly, sitting beside him. “We’re here now. You don’t have to deal with this alone anymore.”
Heeseung let out a shaky breath, the dam of emotions he’d been holding back for weeks finally breaking. “She… she wouldn’t let me leave,” he began, his voice trembling. “She took my phone, monitored everything I did. If I even looked like I was thinking about leaving, she’d lose it. She started throwing things, hitting me…”
Sunoo’s hand flew to his mouth in shock. “She hit you?”
Heeseung nodded, his eyes welling with tears. “It got worse after that night at the café. She blamed me for everything—said I made her act like that, that it was my fault for not loving her enough.”
“That’s not love, Heeseung,” Sunghoon said, his voice low but firm. “That’s manipulation. Abuse.”
“I know,” Heeseung admitted, his voice breaking. “But I couldn’t leave. I was scared of what she might do—to me, to herself. She always made me feel like I owed her something, like I was nothing without her.”
Jay, who had been leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, finally spoke. “You don’t owe her anything, Heeseung. What she did to you wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
Heeseung buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as the weight of his ordeal finally came crashing down. Jungwon moved to sit beside him, placing a comforting hand on his back. “We’re going to help you through this,” he said softly. “But you need to promise us that you won’t go back to her.”
“I… I don’t know if I can,” Heeseung admitted, his voice muffled. “She’ll come after me. She always does. And part of me still—” He stopped, his voice catching as he realized what he was about to say.
“You still care about her,” Jake finished for him, his tone understanding but firm. “I get it, Heeseung. But caring about her doesn’t mean you should let her hurt you. You have to put yourself first now.”
Heeseung nodded hesitantly, though the fear in his eyes remained.
The group spent the night keeping Heeseung company, taking turns staying up to ensure he felt safe. They checked in on him constantly, offering him food, water, and comfort. Despite their efforts, Heeseung barely spoke, the trauma of the past weeks weighing heavily on him.
The next morning, Jungwon sat down with Heeseung at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of coffee in front of each of them. “We need to talk about next steps,” Jungwon said carefully. “You can’t just hide here forever. Iseul’s not going to stop looking for you.”
Heeseung’s grip on his mug tightened. “What can I even do? She knows everything about me—where I work, where my family lives…”
“Then we get the authorities involved,” Jungwon said firmly. “We can help you file a restraining order, and if she tries to contact you, she’ll face consequences.”
Heeseung’s eyes widened. “A restraining order? I don’t know, Jungwon. What if that makes her angrier?”
“It’s not about her feelings anymore,” Sunghoon interjected, leaning against the counter. “It’s about keeping you safe. She’s already hurt you, Heeseung. Don’t give her another chance to do it again.”
The words struck a chord in Heeseung, and after a long moment of silence, he nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
The group spent the next few days helping Heeseung gather the necessary evidence to file a restraining order. He finally opened up about the extent of Iseul’s behavior—her constant monitoring, the physical abuse, the threats. Each detail made his friends’ anger grow, but they channeled it into supporting him.
Meanwhile, Iseul’s attempts to contact Heeseung escalated. She sent dozens of messages and left voicemails filled with alternating pleas and threats. Jungwon took Heeseung’s phone to document everything, ensuring there was a clear record of her harassment.
By the time they filed the restraining order, Heeseung felt a small, cautious sense of relief. It wasn’t over—he knew that—but it was a step toward reclaiming his life.
For the first time in weeks, he felt like he could breathe. And with his friends by his side, he dared to believe that he might one day be free of Iseul’s shadow entirely.
The days following the filing of the restraining order were a whirlwind of emotions for Heeseung. Relief, fear, guilt, and a gnawing uncertainty all competed for space in his mind. His friends took turns staying with him at Jungwon’s apartment, ensuring he was never alone, but even their presence couldn’t fully ease the tension in his chest.
One evening, after a particularly long day, Heeseung sat on the couch, staring blankly at the TV while Sunoo rummaged through the kitchen. Sunoo had insisted on making dinner that night, hoping the distraction would help Heeseung relax.
“You’ve barely eaten today,” Sunoo said, breaking the silence as he set a plate of food in front of Heeseung. “You need to take care of yourself, Heeseung. You’ve been through enough.”
Heeseung glanced at the plate, his stomach churning. “I’m not really hungry,” he muttered.
Sunoo frowned but didn’t push. Instead, he sat down beside him, his voice soft. “I know it’s hard right now, but you’re doing the right thing. Getting out of that situation—it’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done.”
Heeseung’s eyes flickered with doubt. “It doesn’t feel brave. It feels… wrong. Like I abandoned her.”
“You didn’t abandon her,” Sunoo said firmly. “She was hurting you, Heeseung. You had to put yourself first, and that’s not wrong.”
A few hours later, Jake and Sunghoon arrived, their presence bringing a slightly lighter atmosphere to the apartment. Jake immediately flopped onto the couch beside Heeseung, slinging an arm around his shoulders.
“You look like you’ve been through a war,” Jake said, half-joking.
Heeseung managed a weak smile. “Feels like it, too.”
“Well, you’re not alone,” Sunghoon said, sitting across from them. “We’re all here for you, no matter what. You don’t have to fight this battle by yourself.”
Their words comforted Heeseung, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind wouldn’t let him fully relax. He knew Iseul too well. She wasn’t the type to give up easily, and her silence since the restraining order had been filed only made him more uneasy.
That unease turned out to be justified.
Late that night, as the group was winding down, Heeseung’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. He froze, his heart pounding as everyone else in the room turned to look at it.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” Jungwon asked, his voice laced with concern.
Heeseung nodded silently, his hands shaking as he picked up the phone. The screen displayed a series of missed calls and texts, all from an unknown number he recognized immediately as Iseul’s.
Iseul: I know where you are.Iseul: You can’t hide from me forever, Heeseung.Iseul: I’ll forgive you if you just come back. Don’t make me do something drastic.
Heeseung’s stomach dropped. He handed the phone to Jungwon, unable to read any more. Jungwon’s jaw clenched as he scrolled through the messages, his anger evident.
“She’s escalating,” Jungwon said grimly. “We need to let the authorities know.”
“Now?” Heeseung asked, his voice trembling.
“Yes, now,” Jay interjected. “This isn’t just harassment anymore. She’s threatening you.”
The group quickly sprang into action, calling the police and providing them with the messages as evidence. The officers assured Heeseung that they would follow up on the case, but their words did little to ease his anxiety.
After the officers left, the group sat in a tense silence. Heeseung felt like a burden, dragging his friends into a situation that seemed to have no end.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking.
“Stop apologizing,” Sunghoon said sharply. “This isn’t your fault, Heeseung. You didn’t ask for any of this.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Jungwon added, his voice softer but no less firm. “She can try to scare you all she wants, but she won’t get to you as long as we’re here.”
That night, Heeseung finally allowed himself to cry. For weeks, he had bottled up his fear, his pain, and his guilt, but in the safety of his friends’ presence, the dam finally broke. Jungwon and Jake stayed by his side, offering quiet reassurances as he let it all out.
By morning, Heeseung felt lighter, though the shadow of Iseul’s presence still loomed. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, but for the first time in a long time, he believed he might survive this. And with his friends by his side, he was determined to reclaim his life, piece by piece.
In the days following Iseul's threatening messages, Heeseung's friends became increasingly concerned about how far she might go. The restraining order hadn’t deterred her, and her escalating behavior made it clear she wouldn’t stop until she had Heeseung back under her control. Jake, always the practical one, suggested that they start looking into her past to understand more about her motives—and potentially find a way to protect Heeseung further.
“She’s unhinged,” Jake said, scrolling through his laptop as the group gathered at Jungwon’s apartment. “Nobody acts like that out of nowhere. There has to be something in her history—something we can use to get ahead of her.”
“I don’t know if we should dig into her personal life,” Jungwon hesitated, glancing at Heeseung, who was sitting quietly on the couch. “What if it makes things worse?”
Heeseung, who had been largely silent since the ordeal began, finally spoke up. “No. Do it. I need to know what I’m dealing with. I can’t live like this anymore.”
It didn’t take long for the digging to yield results. Jake found a series of social media accounts that seemed abandoned, with cryptic posts hinting at tumultuous past relationships. But it was Sunghoon, searching through local forums, who uncovered something truly unsettling: a police report from two years ago.
“She was in another relationship before you, Heeseung,” Sunghoon said, his face pale as he read the report aloud. “Her ex filed a restraining order against her. He claimed she stalked him, broke into his apartment, and even tried to sabotage his new relationship.”
The room went silent. Heeseung’s face turned pale as the weight of the discovery settled on him. “She’s done this before,” he whispered.
“And it gets worse,” Sunghoon continued, his voice shaking. “Her ex disappeared six months after the restraining order was issued. The case went cold. No evidence, no leads—just gone.”
“Are you saying…?” Sunoo trailed off, his eyes wide with fear.
“I’m saying we might be dealing with someone a lot more dangerous than we thought,” Sunghoon finished grimly.
As they delved deeper, more disturbing details emerged. Iseul’s high school records revealed incidents of violent outbursts and manipulative behavior. She’d been expelled from one school for attacking another student over a supposed slight, and another for threatening a teacher. There were whispers on old forums about her obsessing over a boy who had rejected her, though nothing concrete ever came of it.
“She’s been like this for years,” Jay said, shaking his head in disbelief. “How did we not see this coming?”
“She’s good at hiding it,” Jungwon said quietly. “She came across as so sweet and harmless at first. None of us thought she was capable of…” He hesitated, glancing at Heeseung, “...this.”
Heeseung sat in silence, his hands clenched into fists. He felt sick. The woman he thought he loved, the woman he had trusted, was a stranger to him—a stranger capable of things he could barely comprehend.
That night, the group debated their next steps. Sunghoon wanted to take the information straight to the police, but Jake argued that they needed more evidence to tie Iseul to her ex’s disappearance. Meanwhile, Jungwon suggested confronting Iseul’s parents or old acquaintances to learn more about her behavior.
“Someone has to know what happened with her ex,” Jungwon said. “If we can figure out what pushed her over the edge, maybe we can stop her before she does something worse.”
Heeseung shook his head. “I don’t want to talk to her family. They’ll just defend her. She’s probably been manipulating them, too.”
“We have to try,” Sunoo said gently. “Heeseung, we’re running out of time. She knows where you are, and she’s not going to stop until she gets to you.”
Reluctantly, Heeseung agreed.
The following day, Jake and Sunghoon visited Iseul’s childhood home, posing as concerned friends to her parents. Her mother, a soft-spoken woman with tired eyes, welcomed them in, but her father was immediately defensive.
“What’s this about?” her father demanded, crossing his arms. “If you’re here to talk about Heeseung, we don’t want to hear it.”
“We’re here because we’re worried about her,” Jake lied smoothly. “She’s been struggling, and we’re trying to understand how to help her.”
Her mother sighed, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Iseul has always been… sensitive,” she admitted. “She cares too deeply. Sometimes it gets the better of her.”
“Cares too deeply?” Sunghoon repeated, his tone sharp. “She’s been stalking Heeseung, threatening him. This isn’t just ‘caring.’”
Her father glared at them. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Iseul’s had a hard life. People misunderstand her.”
Her mother hesitated, then whispered, “There was someone before Heeseung. A boy she loved. When he left her, she was never the same. She became obsessed.”
“What happened to him?” Jake asked, his heart pounding.
Her mother didn’t answer, but the haunted look in her eyes spoke volumes.
When Jake and Sunghoon returned to Jungwon’s apartment and relayed what they’d learned, the room fell into a heavy silence. The pieces were starting to come together, and the picture they painted was terrifying.
“She’s done this before,” Jungwon said grimly. “And if we don’t stop her, she’ll do it again.”
“What if she already has something planned?” Sunoo asked, his voice trembling.
Heeseung’s stomach churned as he looked at his friends. “Then we don’t wait for her to act,” he said, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. “We go to the police, and we stop her before it’s too late.”
Unbeknownst to them, Iseul was already watching. From a parked car down the street, she observed the comings and goings at Jungwon’s apartment, her fingers drumming against the steering wheel. She knew they were digging into her past, and she wasn’t about to let them ruin everything.
“Heeseung,” she murmured to herself, her eyes narrowing. “You belong to me. And no one is going to take you away.”
The game was far from over.
The next few days were filled with a quiet but intense determination. Heeseung’s friends, now more committed than ever to uncovering the truth about Iseul, dove headfirst into researching her past. Heeseung, though exhausted and still haunted by the relentless fear she instilled in him, reluctantly shared everything he knew. Every detail about her childhood, her trauma, and her obsession with control became key pieces to understanding the woman who was slowly dismantling his life.
“Iseul told me a lot over the years,” Heeseung said one night, as they sat around the living room. The tension was palpable, but his voice was steady as he continued. “She said her parents were emotionally abusive. She told me they would always put pressure on her to be perfect, to get everything right. She said they used to hit her when she failed to meet their expectations... and that they always told her she was worthless. That’s why she always has to be in control of everything around her. If she lets go, she feels like she’s going to break.”
Jungwon frowned, his fingers gripping the edge of the coffee table. “That explains a lot. It’s not just about you, Heeseung. She’s trying to control everything because she’s never had control in her own life.”
Sunghoon, who had been quietly listening, added, “It’s like a need for power. She’s so obsessed with keeping hold of you because it’s the one thing that makes her feel like she’s not completely helpless. Like she’s in charge.”
“That’s why she’s so possessive,” Jake murmured, his mind racing as he processed the new information. “But it’s more than just wanting you, Heeseung. It’s about her needing you to need her. She has to be the one pulling the strings, or everything falls apart.”
“I think we’ve been looking at it all wrong,” Jay said, his voice tinged with realization. “We’ve been thinking of her as some crazy ex or jealous girlfriend. But she’s not just obsessed with Heeseung—she’s obsessed with control. And if she doesn’t have control, she completely unravels.”
Heeseung swallowed, his eyes clouded with guilt and fear. “I just wanted to help her. I didn’t know how deep it went. I didn’t know how far she’d go to keep me.”
“It’s not your fault,” Sunoo said, giving him a reassuring look. “You didn’t make her this way. And we’re going to fix this. We just need to understand her more.”
The team spent the next several days digging deeper. They scoured every piece of information they could find about Iseul—old school records, past social media accounts, even public records of her family history. What they uncovered was chilling.
Iseul’s parents had never been arrested for abuse, but there were whispers about their reputation within the small community they lived in. The more they dug, the clearer it became that her family had a history of mistreating her, both emotionally and physically. Her father had been a domineering figure, frequently found yelling at her in public, and her mother, though seemingly soft-spoken, had a cold, calculating air about her. Heeseung remembered the way Iseul had spoken about them, and he realized how much her mother’s behavior mirrored Iseul’s own—controlling, suffocating, and manipulative.
“I found something,” Jake said, breaking the silence one evening as he sat at his laptop. The group gathered around him, their collective eyes wide with anticipation.
“It’s an article from years ago,” Jake explained, his finger pointing at the screen. “It’s about Iseul’s mom, Mi-Young. Apparently, there was a case where Mi-Young was involved in a major fraud scheme, scamming people out of their savings. She was caught, but the case was dropped. They say it was because of her connections in the community. But what’s important is that, during the investigation, several witnesses came forward, talking about how Mi-Young had a terrifying grip on her daughter. They say she’d make Iseul do things to ‘earn her love.’ It’s all tied to that same need for control.”
“Is it possible Iseul learned that behavior from her mother?” Jungwon asked quietly, his voice filled with disbelief. “That she was taught to manipulate and control from a young age?”
Jake nodded grimly. “It seems like it. She’s repeating the cycle. And now, Heeseung, you’re the target.”
Sunghoon leaned forward, his expression dark. “This is bad. We thought we could reason with her, but it’s clear that we’re dealing with someone who has no idea what healthy love looks like. Someone who’s been conditioned to believe that control is the only form of affection.”
Heeseung felt his stomach churn. He had always known Iseul’s love was intense, but he hadn’t realized it was toxic—born out of years of manipulation and abuse. She wasn’t just someone with a simple jealousy problem; she had been shaped by abuse into a person who thought control and obsession were signs of love.
“I don’t know how to stop this,” Heeseung admitted, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “I just wanted to be there for her. But now... I don’t know who she really is anymore.”
“You’re not the one who’s changed,” Jake said gently. “She’s the one who’s twisted everything. We just need to focus on getting you out of her grip. And for that, we need to keep looking at her past. There’s got to be something we can use to make her see that this isn’t love. It’s control, and it’s destroying both of you.”
Over the next week, the group continued to dig deeper, slowly peeling back layers of Iseul’s past. They discovered more disturbing details about her relationships, including an ex-boyfriend who had filed a restraining order against her for stalking and harassment. The police report detailed how she had bombarded him with dozens of texts and calls after their breakup, showing the same obsessive tendencies she had shown with Heeseung. The pattern was undeniable.
“She’s not capable of seeing how destructive this is,” Sunghoon said, shaking his head. “She’s been taught that this kind of obsession is normal. It’s how she learned to love.”
“And she’s using the same tactics with you, Heeseung,” Jungwon added. “This is a cycle of abuse that goes back generations. And until she gets help, it’s not going to stop.”
“Maybe it’s time to try and confront her about it,” Sunoo suggested. “If we confront her with the truth, maybe she’ll see the damage she’s doing.”
But Heeseung couldn’t shake the fear in his chest. “What if it just makes things worse?”
“She’s already made things worse,” Jake said. “We can’t let her keep hurting you like this. We need to make her see that she’s destroying everything—everyone—around her.”
But as they gathered the final pieces of the puzzle, it became clear that confronting Iseul wouldn’t be as simple as revealing her past. The deeper they went into her history, the more they realized how deeply embedded her need for control was—and how far she was willing to go to keep it.
After weeks of research and discussions, the group finally reached a decision. They couldn’t keep running, and they couldn’t keep living in fear. They needed to confront Iseul, to make her face the truth about her past, her actions, and what she had been doing to Heeseung. Despite knowing how dangerous and volatile she could be, they decided they had no other choice. If they didn’t stop her now, things would only escalate further.
The plan was simple: they would draw Iseul in with Heeseung. She would be lured into thinking this was just another moment where she could reclaim him, control him. But once she was there, they would make sure the truth came crashing down on her. It was risky—too risky—but it was the only way to break the cycle.
The night before the confrontation, Heeseung was a mess. His hands shook as he stared at the group in the dimly lit living room. His friends tried to reassure him, but the fear in his eyes was undeniable.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Heeseung said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared... of what she’ll do. I don’t want her to hurt anyone, but I don’t know how to stop her.”
Jungwon placed a firm hand on his shoulder, trying to offer a sense of calm. “You’re not alone, Heeseung. We’re doing this together. You’re stronger than you think, and we’re not going to let her hurt you anymore.”
“She’s not just hurting him,” Jake added, his voice low but full of conviction. “She’s been hurting all of us, and we can’t let her keep doing this.”
Heeseung nodded weakly but still looked unconvinced. The knot in his stomach tightened as he thought of Iseul—her eyes, filled with obsession and possessiveness, the way she could easily switch from sweet to violent in the blink of an eye. He didn’t know if he could handle facing that again.
The plan was set into motion the next evening. The group had managed to find a time when Iseul had been unusually quiet, as though she were planning something. They figured it was her moment of vulnerability. She had always been unpredictable, but she had never been one to resist Heeseung for long.
Heeseung called her from his phone, his voice shaking as he told her he needed to see her. She didn’t hesitate, immediately agreeing to come over. The tension in the apartment was thick with anxiety as the group made their final preparations. Heeseung sat on the couch, staring down at his phone, silently pleading for strength.
“I’m going to try to keep her calm,” Heeseung said to the group, looking at each of them in turn. “Please... don’t do anything unless she goes too far. I don’t want this to turn into a mess.”
Jungwon nodded. “You have to trust us, Heeseung. We won’t let her hurt you.”
The doorbell rang. The moment had come.
Iseul stood at the door, her presence immediately overwhelming the room. Her eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the group, her lips curling into a smile when they landed on Heeseung. Her beauty, though undeniably striking, only heightened the sense of danger that surrounded her.
“Heeseung,” she cooed, her voice sweet yet laced with something darker. “I knew you couldn’t stay away. I’m always here for you.”
Heeseung stood from the couch, his legs unsteady as he moved toward her. “Iseul... we need to talk. It’s time.”
Her eyes narrowed, her smile faltering for just a split second. “Talk?” she repeated, her tone suddenly hard. “What do we need to talk about?”
The group stood silently behind Heeseung, the tension palpable. Jungwon was the first to speak, his voice calm but firm.
“We need to talk about everything, Iseul,” he said. “About what you’ve been doing to Heeseung. About the way you’ve been controlling him, manipulating him... and about your past.”
Her eyes flicked from Jungwon to the others, her expression darkening. “What are you talking about?” she snapped, her hand twitching slightly toward the pocket of her jacket where a knife was hidden. The group noticed it immediately but stayed calm.
“We know about your parents,” Sunghoon continued, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. “We know about how you were abused. We know you’ve been using Heeseung to fill that void in your life, to make up for the control you never had as a child.”
Iseul’s expression shifted to one of disbelief, her eyes widening for a moment as she took a step back. “You... you don’t know anything about me!” she hissed. “You think you can just dig into my life and expose me like this? You think you can tell me what to do?”
“We’re not telling you what to do, Iseul,” Sunghoon said softly, his voice unwavering. “We’re telling you that what you’re doing is wrong. You’re hurting him, and you’re hurting yourself in the process. You need help.”
“Stop,” Heeseung pleaded, stepping forward, his voice shaking. “Iseul, please... this isn’t love. This is control. You’ve been controlling me, manipulating me, and I can’t keep living like this. You’re breaking me.”
The words seemed to hit her like a slap. For a moment, she looked genuinely stunned, her face contorting with anger and confusion. “I’m not controlling you!” she screamed, her voice rising. “I love you, Heeseung. I love you more than anyone ever could! You can’t leave me. You can’t!”
“I’m not leaving you,” Heeseung said, his voice breaking. “I’m asking you to leave me. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep living in fear.”
Iseul’s eyes hardened, her lips curling into a snarl. “You think you can leave me? You think you can just walk away?” Her hand shot out, grabbing a vase off the table and throwing it at the wall, the sharp crash filling the room. She moved toward Heeseung in a blur, her hand grabbing his wrist with terrifying force, her nails digging into his skin.
“You’re mine,” she hissed, her voice low and venomous. “You’ll always be mine. And no one will ever take you from me.”
Before anyone could move, Jungwon stepped forward, placing himself between Iseul and Heeseung, trying to de-escalate the situation. “Iseul, this isn’t the way. This needs to stop. You can’t keep doing this.”
But she only pushed him aside, her face twisted with rage. “You think you can take him from me?” she spat. “Heeseung is mine! You’ll never understand! You’ll never feel what I feel for him!”
The group tried to step in, but the chaos was overwhelming. Iseul was breaking down in front of them, and it was clear—she wasn’t ready to face the truth.
In that moment, Heeseung realized how deep the damage ran. Iseul wasn’t just a woman in love. She was a person broken by years of abuse, unable to comprehend anything beyond control and possession. And no matter how much he wanted to help her, he understood now that he couldn’t fix this alone.
She was too far gone. The confrontation had only pushed her deeper into her spiral, and Heeseung was once again caught in the storm of her fury.
As the confrontation escalated, Iseul’s once-contained demeanor began to unravel before everyone’s eyes. Her face twisted in a way that was almost unrecognizable, the mask of control she had so carefully built over the years cracking under the pressure. She stood there, her chest heaving, the words from Heeseung and his friends hanging in the air like a heavy weight she couldn’t shake off.
Her eyes darted around the room, from one person to the next, as if searching for someone who could make it all stop, someone who could tell her that this wasn’t real—that she wasn’t being exposed, that she wasn’t losing control. But no one came to her rescue. The silence between them grew unbearable. Iseul could feel it—the suffocating reality that she was alone, that the walls she had so carefully built around herself were falling down. Her lips trembled as her hands began to shake.
“You’re all lying,” Iseul whispered, her voice barely audible, yet still sharp with disbelief. Her eyes locked onto Heeseung’s, pleading, desperate. “This isn’t what you think. I love you, Heeseung. I love you more than anyone ever could. You’re mine… I need you.”
Heeseung stood there, heart pounding in his chest. He saw the brokenness in her eyes, the desperation, and the chaos that was beginning to spill out. He hated seeing her like this, but he knew, deep down, it had gone too far. “Iseul, this isn’t love,” he said softly, his voice quivering with both fear and sorrow. “This is control. You’ve been controlling me, manipulating me. I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep being the person you need me to be.”
She took a step back as if struck by the words, her body swaying slightly. “No, no,” she muttered, her voice shaky but louder now. “You can’t leave me, Heeseung. You can’t. I gave you everything. I did everything for you, and you’re going to throw it all away? You—” Her words caught in her throat, her breathing growing shallow and erratic.
Before anyone could react, she stumbled, her legs giving way beneath her as her hands gripped her hair, pulling at it as if she were trying to hold herself together. She collapsed to her knees on the floor, her body shaking violently. The sound that came from her wasn’t human—it was a gut-wrenching, primal sob that seemed to come from deep within her. It was the sound of someone whose mind had finally fractured, someone who had pushed themselves too far for too long.
“I’ve never been good enough for anyone!” she cried out, her voice cracking. “Not for my parents, not for you, Heeseung. I’ve always had to be perfect, always had to be everything everyone wanted me to be. And now you’re all telling me that I’m nothing, that I’m broken. But I am, aren’t I? I’m nothing but a monster.”
Jungwon stepped forward cautiously, his heart aching at the sight of her—this was no longer just a woman possessed by obsession; this was someone who had been destroyed by the years of abuse, who had been crushed by the weight of her own need for control. He knelt beside her, trying to offer some sense of comfort, but he was careful, knowing how volatile she could be.
“Iseul, no one is calling you a monster,” Jungwon said softly, his tone as gentle as he could muster. “You’ve been through a lot. We know that. But what you’re doing to Heeseung isn’t healthy. You’re hurting him—and yourself.”
She looked up at him, her tear-streaked face filled with raw emotion. “You don’t get it,” she spat bitterly, pushing him away as if he were the cause of her pain. “None of you get it. You think you can fix me. You think you can just make me better, make everything okay. But I’m beyond that, okay? I’m not fixable. I was never fixable.”
The group was taken aback by the venom in her voice, but they pressed on. They couldn’t let her spin this any longer, couldn’t let her use her pain as a weapon to hurt others. Heeseung, though his heart was breaking at the sight of her, knew this was the moment when everything would change—when she either broke free of her control or became completely consumed by it.
“Iseul,” Heeseung said softly, stepping closer to her despite his fear. “You are fixable, but you can’t do it alone. You need help, and I can’t be the one to help you anymore. I’ve been trying to be there for you, but it’s hurting both of us. This isn’t love. This isn’t how love is supposed to feel.”
She gasped, her eyes wild with panic. “No! Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” She grabbed his arm, her fingers digging into his skin with painful intensity. “You can’t leave me, Heeseung. I need you. I can’t breathe without you. Don’t leave me like this. I’ll die without you. I swear I will!”
Heeseung recoiled, his chest tightening as she clung to him, her grip almost suffocating. The desperation in her eyes was chilling, and he could see the spiraling collapse that was unfolding before him. This wasn’t the woman he had once loved. This was someone who had been broken so many times by life and her past that there was nothing left but the need to consume, to possess, to destroy.
“I’m not leaving you, Iseul,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t stay in this toxic cycle anymore. I need to be free. We need to break free from this.”
Her eyes widened, her chest rising and falling erratically as her breath became shallow. “No... no, no, no!” she screamed, her voice rising in pitch until it was a raw, guttural scream that echoed throughout the room. Her face twisted in agony as she sank back to the floor, her hands reaching for anything, for something to hold on to.
“I can’t lose you, Heeseung,” she cried out, her body wracked with sobs. “I can’t lose you... I can’t be alone again.” She curled into herself, her sobs growing louder and more desperate as the weight of her own fractured mind began to collapse in on her.
The group stood frozen, not knowing how to react to this meltdown. They knew that they couldn’t let this continue. They couldn’t let Iseul drag Heeseung down into the abyss with her. But the tragedy was clear—she was so deep in her own torment, so lost in her need for control, that she didn’t see the damage she had caused.
“We’ll help you, Iseul,” Sunghoon said, his voice firm, but sympathetic. “But only if you let us. You need to get help. This can’t keep going on.”
She didn’t respond. Her sobs were the only answer, a sound that tore through the room, raw and vulnerable. Heeseung watched her, torn between the woman he had once known and the monster she had become. He didn’t know if there was a way back for her, but he knew one thing for certain—he couldn’t save her anymore. Not like this.
Iseul’s sobs slowly began to quiet, her body trembling as the weight of her emotional breakdown still clung to her like a heavy blanket. The silence that followed was thick, and the room seemed to close in around her, as though the very air itself was holding its breath. Her chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, but her frantic energy seemed to be ebbing, leaving her more vulnerable and exposed than ever before.
Heeseung stood a few feet away, his hands trembling as he watched her—watching the woman who had once been so full of life, now reduced to a fragile, broken version of herself. His heart ached for her, but he knew that nothing would ever change unless she truly faced the reality of what was happening between them.
"I-I can't lose you," Iseul whispered hoarsely, her eyes now softer, almost pleading. Her voice was no longer the wild scream it had been moments before, but instead, there was a subtle fragility in her words. "Please, Heeseung... please don't leave me. I can't handle being alone. I can't."
Heeseung’s heart twisted in his chest at the sight of her vulnerability. He could see it now—the rawness, the brokenness that had been hidden behind her need for control. She wasn’t just a woman obsessed with him; she was someone who had suffered deeply, someone who had never been able to find solace or peace. He knew he couldn’t save her on his own, but he also knew that he couldn’t leave her in this state.
“Iseul…” Heeseung started softly, his voice filled with a quiet ache. “I’m not leaving you because I don’t care. I’m not leaving you because I hate you. I’m leaving because I want you to get better. I want you to heal. But you can’t heal when you’re holding on to me like this. You need help, and I can’t be the one to fix you. I’m not strong enough for that, and neither are you.”
Iseul's head hung low as she listened, her fingers curling tightly into her palms as she fought to keep herself composed. She nodded slowly, her breathing still shallow but more controlled now. “I understand,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’ve been so lost, so selfish... I didn’t realize how much I was pushing you away. I never wanted to hurt you. I just... I don’t know how to exist without you.”
“Iseul…” Heeseung took a tentative step forward, his eyes softening as he reached out, placing a hand gently on her arm. “You don’t have to exist for me. You need to exist for yourself. You need to find yourself again. You can’t keep defining your worth by what I can give you.”
Her eyes flickered up to his, the familiar spark of something once tender shining through the haze of her madness. For a brief moment, it seemed like the woman he had fallen in love with might still be there, buried beneath the layers of fear and possessiveness.
“I’ll go,” she said quietly, her voice quieter than it had been all night. “I’ll get help. I’ll go to therapy… I’ll work on myself. But, Heeseung…” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable, her voice soft but insistent. “I can’t let you go completely. I can’t. I need you. I love you. Can’t we... can’t we still be together? Even just a little? I’ll try. I’ll try to change, I swear.”
The plea in her voice stung, a mixture of desperation and the remnants of the love she still felt for him. Heeseung’s heart clenched again as he processed her words, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He had never wanted to hurt her, never wanted to see her like this, but he knew that as much as he cared for her, being with her in this toxic, suffocating state wasn’t fair to either of them.
“I don’t know, Iseul,” Heeseung said quietly, his voice tight with conflict. “I really don’t know. I want to believe you, I do. But it’s going to take time. You can’t just fix everything overnight. I can’t be the one who keeps holding you up while you’re falling apart.”
She nodded, her expression softened, almost resigned, though the longing in her eyes remained. “I’ll try, Heeseung. I promise I will try. Just... please don’t leave me. Please don’t completely shut me out.”
For a moment, Heeseung just stood there, watching her. The room had quieted down, the tension still hanging in the air like a thick fog. Heeseung closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking a slow breath. He wanted to help her, he really did, but he knew he couldn’t continue like this—not while she was still so unstable.
“I’ll be here for you, Iseul,” Heeseung said softly, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m not abandoning you. But I can’t be everything for you anymore. You need to take responsibility for your own healing. I can’t keep trying to fix you.”
Iseul took a deep breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she looked up at him. Her voice was barely a whisper, a plea that hung in the air. “You don’t have to fix me, Heeseung. Just don’t leave me completely. Please. I need you to be here... with me.”
Heeseung’s heart twisted again as he looked at her, seeing the quiet desperation in her gaze. For a moment, he almost gave in. But then he remembered everything that had happened, everything that had brought them to this point. He knew the road ahead was going to be long, and he couldn’t keep enabling her behavior. He couldn’t let his own feelings cloud the truth.
“I’ll be here,” Heeseung finally said, his voice steady but full of sadness. “But I need you to promise me something, Iseul. I need you to promise me that you’ll get the help you need. That you’ll take this seriously. And that you’ll give yourself the time to heal, even if it means we can’t be together for a while.”
Iseul’s eyes softened as she nodded slowly. “I promise,” she whispered, her voice fragile but sincere. “I’ll do anything, Heeseung. I just... I just need you to give me a chance. Just a little one.”
Heeseung hesitated, but then gave a small, pained smile. “We’ll see. But right now, you need to focus on yourself. That’s the most important thing. If we’re going to have a future, it’s going to start with you, Iseul. You.”
She nodded, looking down at her hands for a moment as if processing his words. Then, slowly, she looked up at him with a more composed expression, a quiet determination in her eyes. “I will. I promise.”
As Iseul slowly stood up, her body still trembling slightly from the emotional collapse earlier, Heeseung couldn’t help but feel a mixture of hope and dread. She had agreed to get help, but the road ahead would be difficult. The damage had been done, and he wasn’t sure if they would ever truly be able to go back to the way things were. But for now, all he could do was watch her take the first step toward healing—and hope that, one day, they both might find a way to move forward.
It had been a few months since the chaotic events that had nearly torn Heeseung and Iseul apart. During that time, Iseul had taken the necessary steps to heal, as painful as it had been. She went through therapy, committed herself to understanding her past, confronting the trauma that had shaped her, and taking time to reflect on her own behaviors. Slowly, the sharp edges of her personality that had once been suffocating, even dangerous, began to soften. Therapy had become her sanctuary, a space where she could express her fears, regrets, and emotions, all while learning how to process them in healthy ways.
The change wasn’t immediate, but it was profound. Iseul grew stronger, calmer, and more aware of her own feelings. She started to rebuild herself from the inside out, and the most noticeable change was her appearance. Her once-tired eyes, often filled with anxiety and fear, now sparkled with clarity and confidence. The lines of stress around her face softened, and her smile—once guarded—was now open and genuine. She looked healthier, more vibrant, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The vulnerability that had defined her before was still there, but now it was balanced with strength, a strength born from acceptance and self-growth.
One afternoon, after a long day of therapy and self-care, Iseul decided to visit Heeseung. She hadn’t seen him in a while, and while she was still unsure of their future together, she felt ready to face him—not as the broken person she once was, but as someone who had learned to stand on her own.
It was a Saturday, and Heeseung was with his friends—Jungwon, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Niki, and Jay—at a café they frequented. They had been talking about everything from their recent plans to life in general when Iseul walked through the door. The bell above the café door chimed softly, but it was the way she walked in that caught everyone’s attention. It was calm and composed, her posture confident, as if she had shed the skin of her former self and emerged into something entirely new.
Heeseung’s eyes locked on her the moment she entered. The shift was subtle at first, but as his gaze lingered on her, the change became undeniable. Iseul had always been beautiful, but now, there was something different about her—something deeper. Her eyes, once filled with tension, now glistened with a calm radiance that made her even more striking. Her long hair fell around her shoulders in soft waves, the strands catching the light in a way that made her look almost ethereal. The clothes she wore were simple, but there was an understated elegance about them. Everything about her screamed maturity, and it was hard for Heeseung to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat when he saw her.
The rest of the group noticed it too. They exchanged glances, each of them surprised by the transformation. Sunghoon was the first to speak.
“She looks… different,” he said softly, leaning over to Jake. “Like, in a good way. You can tell she’s been working on herself.”
“I was just about to say the same thing,” Jake replied, his eyes following Iseul’s every movement. “She seems so... peaceful now.”
Iseul walked up to the table, her steps graceful, her eyes meeting Heeseung’s with a quiet confidence. She smiled at him, a genuine, unguarded smile that made his heart swell. The tension between them was still there, but it was softer now—more like the remnants of something that had once been intense but was now being gently set aside.
“Heeseung,” she said, her voice steady and calm, with a warmth he hadn’t heard in months.
“Heeseung, we need to talk,” she added, her eyes soft but earnest.
Heeseung swallowed, unsure of how to react, but the old protective instinct kicked in, and he stood up to greet her. There was a small lump in his throat, but he managed a smile, though it was more hesitant than before.
“Iseul,” he said, the word coming out like a breath of relief, as if he hadn’t realized how much he missed her until this very moment. “You look… different. Good different. How have you been?”
“I’ve been doing a lot better,” Iseul said with a small laugh, though it was laced with a trace of sadness. “It hasn’t been easy, but I’m working on it. I’ve been going to therapy. I’ve been focusing on myself—getting healthier.”
“I can see that,” Heeseung replied, his gaze lingering on her face. “You’ve changed, Iseul. You look… happier. More like yourself. The way you carry yourself, it’s like you’ve found peace.”
Iseul smiled softly, nodding. “I’m getting there. It’s a work in progress, but I’m finally at a place where I can breathe again.”
The group of friends, watching from the side, exchanged looks of approval. They had all been worried about Iseul’s mental state during the worst of it, but now, seeing her this way, they could tell that she had truly made strides.
Just then, Minji walked into the café, and her eyes immediately found Heeseung and Iseul. There was a moment of hesitation, but then Minji smiled warmly and walked over to the group, greeting everyone before her eyes settled on Iseul.
“Hey, Iseul,” Minji said, her tone friendly but curious. “You look... amazing. What’s been going on with you?”
Iseul turned to Minji, offering a soft smile. “I’ve been working on myself. Taking time to get better, to heal. I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be around, but I’m trying to make things right.”
Minji raised an eyebrow but smiled back. “I’m glad to hear that. I know it wasn’t easy for you. But you’re doing great, I can tell.”
Iseul’s smile widened slightly as she nodded, appreciative of the kind words. Then she turned to Heeseung again, her gaze softening. “I’ve missed you, you know. I’ve missed us. I know things can’t go back to the way they were, but I want us to find a way to move forward, even if it means starting slow.”
Heeseung felt a pang in his chest as he looked at her, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes that still remained despite her progress. “I’ve missed you too, Iseul,” he admitted, his voice quiet but sincere. “It’s been hard, but I’m glad to see you’re doing better. I just want you to be happy—whether that means with me or not. You deserve to find peace, Iseul.”
The group watched in silence, a sense of relief washing over them. There was no more tension in the air, no more feeling of uncertainty. For the first time in a long while, everything felt *normal*—like there was hope for the future. The heavy weight that had once consumed Iseul seemed to have lifted, and though there were still some unanswered questions between her and Heeseung, it was clear that they were both on a journey of healing.
As the group continued to chat, with Minji teasing Iseul about her newfound serenity and the others sharing small jokes, Heeseung and Iseul found themselves falling into an easy conversation. There was no longer any strain in the way they spoke, no sense of urgency. The quiet bond they once had was slowly beginning to stitch itself back together, thread by thread.
For the first time in a long while, Heeseung felt like there might be hope—for both of them.
As the weeks passed, Heeseung’s interactions with Iseul became more frequent. She had kept her promise to continue with her therapy and was genuinely making progress, slowly but surely. Each time they met, Heeseung saw a new side of her—one that was more open, more willing to accept her flaws, and more determined to heal. Iseul’s growth was visible not just in her emotional stability but in the way she handled situations that would have once triggered a meltdown. She was learning how to manage her insecurities, how to communicate more effectively, and most importantly, how to give space to Heeseung instead of suffocating him with her needs. 
For Heeseung, seeing Iseul like this was both comforting and confusing. There was a part of him that wanted to trust that she had truly changed, but the memory of everything they had gone through still lingered, like a shadow he couldn’t shake. Yet, as he spent more time with her, he began to realize that she wasn’t the same person who had spiraled out of control months ago. There was a maturity in her actions now, a sense of self-awareness that hadn’t been there before. She wasn’t perfect, but she was trying—and for the first time in a long while, Heeseung allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could try again.
One evening, Heeseung sat down with his friends, Jungwon, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Niki, and Minji, at their usual hangout spot. The conversation had steered toward relationships, and naturally, the topic of Iseul came up. Heeseung had been hesitant to bring her up, unsure of how to approach the subject without reigniting the tension that had existed between him and his friends. But tonight, something felt different. He had been spending more time with Iseul, and he needed to talk about it—needed to process what he was feeling.
“I’ve been thinking,” Heeseung began, his voice cautious, yet determined. “About Iseul… about us.”
The table fell silent, and every eye turned to him, some expressions curious, others wary. Minji, who had been sitting next to Heeseung, raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile.
“You’re really going there, huh?” Minji said, her tone teasing but laced with concern. “Are you sure about this, Heeseung?”
Heeseung hesitated, running a hand through his hair as he looked around at his friends. “I mean… I think she’s different now. I really do. She’s been working on herself—going to therapy, really taking responsibility for everything that happened.”
Jungwon leaned forward, his tone skeptical but still supportive. “We’ve seen the change in her. Iseul is calmer, more stable. But I’m gonna be real with you, man,” he added, his gaze serious, “You’ve gotta be careful. We’ve all seen how she can flip. No one’s forgotten how things went down.”
The others nodded in agreement, the weight of the memories still hanging over them like a dark cloud. Jake crossed his arms, his face tense.
“I don’t know, Heeseung,” he said, his voice low. “I get that you’re trying to give her a second chance, but after everything that went down, I’m not sure it’s worth the risk. What if she falls apart again? What if you get dragged back into that mess?”
“I get it,” Heeseung said, his voice quieter now, a trace of uncertainty creeping in. “But I see something in her now that I didn’t see before. She’s really trying to change. I want to be there for her.”
Minji watched Heeseung closely, sensing the conflict in his words. She shifted slightly in her seat, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m not saying she hasn’t changed, Heeseung. I’ve seen it too. But… you have to be careful. We all know how intense things got with her. If she snaps again—if things go back to how they were—are you ready to handle that? And are you sure you want to? Because this isn’t just about you anymore. It’s about everyone around you, too.”
Heeseung’s gaze flickered down to the table, his mind racing as he processed their words. He understood their concerns, but a part of him couldn’t let go of the hope that Iseul was different now. That the person she had become wasn’t the same one who had suffocated him with her possessiveness. But Minji’s words stung, because they were true. He wasn’t just diving back into this relationship alone; he had his friends to consider, too. They had all witnessed how volatile Iseul had been, how dangerous it had been for Heeseung to be involved with her when she was at her worst.
Sunghoon spoke up next, his voice calm but steady. “I agree with Minji. You’ve gotta be cautious, Heeseung. I don’t want to see you hurt again. And none of us want to go through that again. But if you really believe she’s changed, and you want to take that risk, then you should. Just don’t be naive about it. Set boundaries. Keep your guard up. Don’t let her back in just because you’re hoping she’s different.”
Heeseung nodded, the weight of his friends' words settling heavily in his chest. He appreciated their concern, but he also knew they weren’t going to understand his feelings completely. Only he knew the subtle shifts he had seen in Iseul—the small, telling moments where she had chosen to communicate instead of lash out, where she had shown patience instead of control.
“I hear you,” Heeseung said softly, his voice filled with resolve. “I know what I’m getting into, but I think I owe it to both of us to at least try. I want to believe in her. I want to believe she’s different.”
Minji leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studied him. “Just promise me one thing,” she said seriously. “If things start to go south again—if you start feeling like you’re losing yourself, or if she gets possessive again—you’ll step back. You won’t let yourself get lost in it. Okay?”
Heeseung met her gaze, her words striking a chord deep inside him. “I promise,” he said with a quiet nod. “If things go sideways, I’ll walk away.”
The group was silent for a moment, each of them processing Heeseung’s decision. They didn’t agree with it, but they understood it. They had been his friends through everything, and they wanted what was best for him. All they could do now was stand by his side, no matter what happened next.
Later that evening, after the conversation had died down, Heeseung texted Iseul. He was about to meet her at a quiet park, where they had agreed to talk. As he waited for her to arrive, his mind raced. He had just shared his thoughts with his friends, who were concerned about him, and part of him wondered if they were right. But there was another part of him—one that couldn’t deny how much he still cared for Iseul, how much he wanted her to succeed. He knew this wouldn’t be easy. But maybe, just maybe, it was worth trying.
When Iseul finally arrived, her face lit up when she saw him, and Heeseung felt his heart give a small, hopeful flutter. She had come so far, and while there was still a long road ahead of them, Heeseung couldn’t help but feel like they were taking the first steps toward something better.
“I’ve missed you,” Iseul said quietly, her voice soft but full of sincerity.
“I’ve missed you too,” Heeseung replied, his tone more certain now than it had been before.
They stood there, just the two of them, in the quiet park, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt possible.
As weeks turned into months, Heeseung and Iseul continued their tentative steps toward rebuilding what had once been a complicated and volatile relationship. Both were aware of the gravity of the situation—Heeseung because he had witnessed firsthand how easily things could spiral out of control, and Iseul because she knew the emotional and psychological toll her actions had once taken on him. But they were determined to take things slow, to honor the progress they had both made, and to rebuild their trust from the ground up.
The next step in their journey was one that neither of them had anticipated: learning to navigate life as individuals first, and as a couple second. For Iseul, this meant continuing her therapy, staying committed to the healing process, and allowing herself to lean on Heeseung in a way that wasn’t suffocating. For Heeseung, it meant learning how to be supportive without feeling like he was walking on eggshells, and not allowing himself to get lost in the dynamics of their past relationship.
One evening, Heeseung invited Iseul to join him and his friends for a casual dinner at a local restaurant, something they hadn’t done in months. This was a small but significant step forward for both of them, as it marked the first time that Heeseung had openly included Iseul in his social circle again. It wasn’t lost on either of them how much this moment meant—it was a sign of the trust they had been rebuilding, even if it was still fragile.
As they walked into the restaurant, Iseul’s heart raced. She had been working hard on her social anxiety, on her tendency to shut herself off from the world, but being in a public space with Heeseung’s friends still made her feel exposed. Yet, she reminded herself that she had made progress. She had earned this moment. She had worked so hard to get here, and she wasn’t going to let fear take it away.
“Are you nervous?” Heeseung asked quietly as they were seated at a large table, the others chatting animatedly around them.
“A little,” Iseul admitted, her voice soft but honest. “I just… I don’t want to mess things up. I know I’ve done a lot of damage in the past.”
Heeseung reached across the table, his fingers brushing gently over hers, grounding her. “I know, but I’m here with you. You’re not alone in this.”
Iseul smiled at him, grateful for his words, but still unsure of herself. The reality was that she knew this was just another step, another test. She had to prove to herself, to Heeseung, and to his friends that she was truly ready for a fresh start. There were still moments when she felt like the old version of herself, the one consumed by jealousy and fear, but she also knew that she had changed, and that she was capable of something better.
As the night went on, Iseul gradually started to relax. The conversations flowed, the laughter was genuine, and the atmosphere was warm. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was truly part of the group, not as an outsider or someone to be pitied, but as someone who was allowed to be herself. 
Minji, who had been quietly observing Iseul throughout the evening, leaned over and whispered to Heeseung, “She’s different, you know? I can see it. She’s more confident now. More at ease with herself.”
Heeseung nodded, his gaze softening as he watched Iseul interact with the others. “She really is. I’m proud of her.”
The night ended on a high note, with everyone joking and laughing as they said their goodbyes. Heeseung walked Iseul to her car, his hand casually resting on her lower back as they walked through the parking lot.
“I’m really proud of you tonight,” Heeseung said, his voice sincere. “You were amazing.”
Iseul stopped walking for a moment, turning to face him. “You’re proud of me?” Her eyes were wide, as if she still couldn’t fully believe that Heeseung was seeing her progress.
“Of course I am,” Heeseung replied, his gaze steady. “You’ve come so far. It’s not easy, but I can see how much you’ve worked to be better. You’ve earned this moment.”
Tears welled up in Iseul’s eyes, though they were different from the tears she used to shed. These were tears of gratitude, of relief, because for the first time in a long while, she felt like she was truly on the right path. 
“I don’t think I could’ve done it without you,” Iseul whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Heeseung gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away the lone tear that had escaped. “You could’ve,” he said softly. “But I’m glad you didn’t have to. I’m glad I was here.”
Their gazes locked, and for a moment, everything else faded away. They were two people who had come a long way—individually and together—and there was no rush, no pressure. Whatever the future held, they were both learning how to navigate it, one step at a time.
In the weeks that followed, Heeseung and Iseul found themselves continuing to build on this newfound sense of balance. They were learning how to give each other space, to communicate more openly, and to respect the boundaries that had once been a point of contention. Heeseung was still wary of the past, of what Iseul had been capable of when she was at her lowest, but he also couldn’t deny the feelings he still had for her. Those feelings had never truly gone away, even when things were at their darkest. And now, with every passing day, he saw more and more of the woman he had once fallen for—a woman who was growing, evolving, and becoming someone worthy of his trust again.
Iseul, on the other hand, knew that her journey was far from over. She had come to understand that her past actions were not an excuse for her mistakes, and that healing was an ongoing process. But every step forward, every small victory, was a testament to the strength she had inside her. And as much as she wanted to be with Heeseung, she knew she had to focus on herself first. She was learning to love herself, to find peace without relying on someone else to fix her, and that was the most important step she could take.
The road ahead was still uncertain, and there would be moments of doubt and fear, but both Heeseung and Iseul had come to understand that they didn’t have to face it alone. Together, they had the strength to move forward, no matter how slow or difficult the journey might be. They were learning to build a foundation of trust, respect, and mutual growth—and that was the first step in creating something that could withstand the challenges of the past.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. And that, to them, was enough.
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grandmother-goblin · 13 hours ago
Text
No One Will Notice
Chapter 1
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Ao3 - Masterlist
Summary: It had been nearly an entire day since Emmrich's wonderful date with Rook in the Memorial Gardens, but he couldn't help but worry that he had left a less-than-favorable impression. Especially given the disastrously awkward end to the evening.
Relationships: Emmrich x Female!Rook
Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.
Word Count: 3.7k
Tags: Kitchen make-outs, romance, fluff, age-gap, relationship discussion about aforementioned age-gap, gratuitous overthinking.
The small, antique clock atop the fireplace in Emmrich’s room ticked away another minute, and it felt like it was taunting him. Reminding him that he had made next to no progress in reviewing a colleague’s latest book based on studies of lesser known and rare spirits. A fascinating topic, and one that he had been looking forward to reading, but he couldn’t focus.
He hadn’t been able to focus on anything. Not on the book in his lap, or his lessons with Manfred. His mind even wandered off whilst in the middle of corpse-whispering. His date with Isera in the Memorial Gardens last night had consumed his every thought.
It played over and over again in his mind like a carousel of ephemeral memories. Most of which were quite pleasant — Isera’s red painted lips as she smiled at him from across the table, the huskiness of her voice and the lightness of her laughter, the way her fingers played with his as she wordlessly asked to hold his hand, her soft moan when he captured her mouth with his…
The phantom of her touch lingered on his lips like a schoolboy who had their very first kiss. He swore he could still smell her perfume when he closed his eyes — a delicate mix of sandalwood and jasmine that he had inhaled when he lavished her slender throat with his lips. His face warmed when he thought of how she had breathlessly whispered his name, and what she might have sounded like had they gone further.
But that moment just outside of her bedroom cut through his heated memories like a shard of ice.
In retrospect, he could have handled things much better, but he had simply panicked. Emmrich rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, exhaling deeply as he tried to ward off the chill of discomfiture, knowing he had let his nerves get the best of him. All because of a persistent, nagging thought — one that he had incorrectly presumed he had already come to terms with — decided to rear its head the moment Isera’s eyes invitingly flickered toward the bedroom door.
Self-consciousness, shame, and fear doused his lust and desire in an instant.
Twenty-seven years.
Isera was twenty-seven years younger than him. Her bright eyes, deep-green like winter conifers and framed with long lashes, had no signs of crow's feet, and there wasn’t a single strand of grey in her dark brown hair.
He was old enough to be her father, yet he had been treating her as he would someone around his own age the entire night. Like they were two grown adults on a lovely date, which they were, but…
What would other people think when they saw him and Isera together? Would they think he was some lecherous old man, manipulating a young woman who didn’t know any better into bed? Would they judge Isera for being attracted to him and accuse her of unsavory motivations?
People would talk, regardless of either his or Isera’s feelings or intentions toward one another. Moving too quickly would only feed the worst of the people who would see their relationship in bad faith.
More than his own reputation, he worried for hers. What if she hadn’t thought things through? What if she ended up regretting spending the night with him? Emmrich would never have been able to forgive himself.
So, instead of accepting the invitation that he had secretly been hoping for the entire night, he had taken a step back.
He needed to be cautious. He needed to take things slower than he would have liked. For both of their sakes.
A teasing specter of belated regret haunted him, replaying the moment he had pulled away from her. The moment the desire in Isera’s eyes was replaced with hurt and confusion. How her throat bobbed as she swallowed down his rejection. How she gave him a hollow smile when he blamed the late hour and the wine and the need to be responsible. Reasons that had nothing to do with her, or his feelings towards her.
He should have just been honest with her.
He should have at least tried to correct himself before he said goodnight. But the damage had already been done and he feared any immediate attempt to rectify the situation would seem disingenuous. So instead, he had pressed a kiss to her forehead, a feeble attempt at reassurance. Considering how small her voice sounded when she bid him goodnight, it didn’t do much good.
Emmrich closed the book in his lap and stared at the dwindling flames in the fireplace, resting his chin on his hand as he leaned against the arm of his chair. After hours of teasing touches and stolen kisses… oh, he couldn’t begin to imagine what Isera might think of him.
The best he could hope for was that Isera saw the whole interaction as nothing more than the faux pas that it was, and she was willing to forgive him for leading her on for the entire evening. Had he been in her shoes, he would probably be wracking his brain trying to figure out where things had gone wrong.
A log in the fireplace crackled, and Emmrich’s eyes followed a single bright orange ember as it blackened, burning out in the soot. If he didn’t talk to Isera soon, he feared his relationship with her might do the same.
They hadn’t spoken since they had parted ways last night. Emmrich hadn’t seen her at breakfast, or while he was assisting Bellara with one of her projects in the courtyard, or when he had spent an hour reading in the main library where he had secretly hoped he would catch her. Perhaps on her way into or out of her room, or the courtyard, or even the eluvian. Most days, he would have run into her at least once or twice, but not today.
Well, enough was enough. Emmrich stood from his chair and returned his colleague’s book to the bookshelf, knowing he was in no state to give it a proper review while Isera occupied his every thought. He needed to talk to her. The only reason he hadn’t done so sooner was that part of him had been hoping that Isera would have sought him out as she usually did, giving him some reassurance that everything was still okay between them.
But she hadn’t. And if she was upset with him, he needed to do whatever he could to try to ameliorate the situation.
That was, of course, if she still wanted him.
Emmrich turned to a small, ornate mirror he kept perched on a bookshelf and quickly checked over his reflection. “You’re being ridiculous,” he muttered to himself as he straightened his collar pin. “You just made a bit of a fool of yourself, that’s all. There is nothing to worry about. Isera will be perfectly understanding.”
Talking to himself helped soothe his anxiety, if only a little bit. Sometimes it was easier to put his problems into perspective by saying them aloud. What happened outside the bedroom was just a tiny hiccup in their relationship — a learning experience.
According to the clock above the fireplace, it was close to supper time. Provided that the cooking rotation hadn’t changed without him knowing, he knew he would find Isera in the kitchen making something delicious. Perhaps he could see if she required any assistance and, if they were alone, he could talk to her before the team all sat down to eat.
Ideally, he and Isera could have a productive conversation and everything would be good between them before their companions could suspect something was amiss.
He and Isera had yet to discuss how to broach the topic of their relationship with the rest of the team. It was so new, and it hadn’t seemed necessary. But he would hate for the others to find out in less than ideal circumstances. He would never hear the end of it.
Worry trickled into his stomach again at the thought of what their companions might think; an old man like himself in a relationship with a young woman like Isera…
Emmrich pushed those thoughts aside before they could catch a foothold in his mind. The others could think whatever they wanted to think. Isera was the only person he needed to be worried about. Everyone else’s opinion was secondary.
Isera was a grown woman, perfectly capable of making her own decisions about whose company she wished to keep. And she had shown that time and time again that she wanted him with her soft smiles, silken kisses and sweet words.
And it was high time he assured her that he still wanted her too.
Isera laid another thin sheet of pasta over her carefully measured dollops of a mushroom and ricotta mixture. She had made this recipe dozens of times, yet she had still made a few more mistakes while constructing the ravioli than she cared to admit. Nothing unsalvageable, but it did end up taking more time than she had expected.
Normally she would have picked something easier to make for the team than homemade pasta, but after her date with Emmrich ended somewhat awkwardly, she found herself craving some comfort food.
Her face heated as she remembered the mild panic on Emmrich’s face when he pulled away from her. It was as if he had suddenly realized he had forgotten something important — something that needed to be addressed immediately. But instead of telling her what that something was, he gave her a flimsy excuse about the late hour and walked away like he had other places to be.
It didn’t feel right. Not because he had turned her down, but it was more about the manner in which he did so. If he wasn’t comfortable with going further, she was perfectly fine with that. It simply seemed odd to her that they had been tiptoeing toward the bedroom the entire night only for him to turn tail once they got to the door.
Had she completely misread the situation? Her stomach fluttered at the memory of his hands on her hips, and the subtle roughness of his facial hair against her skin as his lips dragged down her neck to her collarbone.
Isera shook her head. Something happened. Something must have happened. She just didn’t know what. What was worse, she wasn’t even sure how to ask him about it. What could she say? Hey, I know you said you wanted to stop last night because it was late but I think that’s bullshit and you should tell me what was really going on?
There was a reason why none of her previous relationships had lasted very long, and it was mostly her own fault. Being direct and honest worked great for her professionally, but in interpersonal relationships or matters that required a more delicate touch, not so much. It was something she was working on.
Waiting for a pot of water to come to a boil, Isera leaned against the kitchen counter and took a sip from her glass of white wine. If Emmrich simply wasn’t ready to spend the night together, she wished he would have said as much. At least then she could stop fretting over whether or not she had done something wrong.
Whatever happened last night, more than anything, she hoped Emmrich was okay. She hoped she hadn’t made him uncomfortable, or made him feel pressured — that was the last thing she wanted. She hoped that the awkwardness was just new relationship jitters and nothing more.
She took another slow sip of wine—
“Isera, darling?”
The wine caught in the back of her throat. Turning away from the counter, she managed to swallow it down before breaking into a pathetic, barely stifled, coughing fit.
Yep, that was exactly the first thing she wanted him to see after last night. If he hadn’t been attracted to her before, he certainly would be now.
“Hi, Emmrich,” she croaked, her cheeks burning from nearly choking on her wine and her dignity.
“I didn’t mean to startle you, my dear,” he said with a warm chuckle as he approached. “Can I get you anything? Perhaps some water?”
Isera shook her head. Given her luck, she’d probably choke on the water too. “I’m good,” she said, catching her breath. “Let’s just pretend you didn’t see that.”
“You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said, smiling at her in a way that oddly made her feel a little better. At least, it made her feel like he wasn’t completely disgusted by her. “These sorts of things happen. I’ve certainly had my fair share of such moments.”
“You should tell me one of them. Just to make us even.”
“Oh, give it time,” he replied. “I’m certain things will even out in that department soon enough.”
A smile tugged on the corner of her lip at the implication; if he thought he would be around long enough to embarrass himself, perhaps she hadn’t turned him off from her after all.
“Dinner should be ready in the next half hour.” Isera turned her attention back to the pot of now boiling water. “I just have to finish up the sauce and cook the pasta.”
Emmrich’s hand brushed over the small of her back as he looked over her shoulder. “Is there anything I can do to provide some assistance,” he asked, his tone light and friendly, like there wasn’t a hint of anything wrong between them. “Though it seems like you’ve done most of the hard work. The pasta looks absolutely perfect, by the way.”
The compliment combined with his causal touch made her stomach do a funny little flip. “Thank you,” she said, sounding more composed than she felt. “If you want to cook the ravioli for me, that would be very helpful. We’ll have to cook them in a few batches.”
Emmrich pressed a brief kiss to the top of her head. “Consider it done, my dear,” he said and went to the sink. He pushed up his sleeves and his bracelets far enough that he could wash his hands without getting anything else wet, and Isera couldn’t help the smile tugging on her lips as she watched him from the corner of her eye. It wasn’t uncommon for Mourn Watchers, especially senior ones, to wear their grave goods as part of their daily attire, but Isera couldn’t remember the last time she had been so entranced by someone’s jewelry.
Or, perhaps, her fascination only had to do with the man wearing it.
Last night, she had asked him about his rings as she played with his hands. One had once belonged to his father, another had a protective enchantment, yet another was one that he wore simply because he enjoyed it. She remembered the feel of them against her skin when laced his fingers with her own, when he cupped her face and brought his mouth to hers, when he slipped his hands beneath her shirt….
Focus. If she messed up dinner because she was too busy thinking about Emmrich, she was never going to let herself live that down.
Isera turned her attention to the cutting board and kitchen knife she had set out earlier and began to work on preparing garlic for the sauce. Behind her, she could hear Emmrich starting on his own task.
Although everything seemed like it had gone back to normal between them, Isera’s found herself unable to relax as the silence stretched between them. Normally, bouts of silence between her and Emmrich were perfectly comfortable, but not now.
“I had a lot of fun last night,” Isera said, knowing she would drive herself mad if she didn’t at least try to talk to him about what had been plaguing her mind all day. She just had to be careful about it. Nothing too direct. She didn’t want to accidentally accuse him of something that only existed in her head.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he replied, sounding genuine. “Although, speaking of last night, there is something I want to talk to you about. Regarding when we parted for the evening.”
Anticipatory dread dropped down in her stomach, and she set her chopping aside before her nerves caused her to make a mistake. “I’ve been wanting to talk about that too. I feel like I might have misread the situation, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“Isera, you didn’t misread anything.” His voice was so soft and warm that it immediately eased some of her anxiety. “You were perfect, my dear. I’m the one who ought to apologize for making you doubt yourself for even a moment.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him with a slight frown. “It was hard not to think so,” she said. “You left so suddenly. I felt like I had done something wrong and you were just making an excuse to leave.”
Emmrich sighed. “I suppose I was, but it was just…” His lips drew into a thin line as he stared at the pot as if he hoped it would finish his sentence for him. “Until that moment— If we were closer in age, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But with the years between us, I worried that taking that step too soon might negatively impact your perception of me.”
“But you knew that going into this.”
“I know,” he agreed, his voice soft and twinged with unmistakable shame. “I suppose it didn’t truly sink in until then.”
Isera leaned back against the counter and picked up her glass of wine, needing something to do with her hands as her stomach tied itself in knots.
There wasn’t anything she could do if he truly found himself uncomfortable with the years between them. While she would be incredibly frustrated that he hadn’t spoken up sooner, maybe even a little angry, she would accept it. She’d have to. At least he would have nipped their romantic relationship in the bud rather than waiting for it to bloom.
Isera took a sip of her wine and turned her gaze downward, mentally counting the tiles on the floor as the seconds stretched on. “So what does that mean? Do you… want to stop?”
A wooden spoon clattered against the counter. “No!” he said and crossed the kitchen in a few long strides. “No, no, no. Not at all.”
Carefully, he took the glass of wine from her and set it on the counter behind her. Then he gathered her hands in his, giving them reassuring squeeze as he looked at her imploringly. “It means I spent the entire day wishing I had simply asked you if you thought we were moving too quickly instead of making the decision for both of us.” His thumb brushed over hers soothingly and he sighed. “I let my nerves get the better of me. And for that, I’m sorry. It had nothing to do with you. I need you to know that.”
Slowly, the tension in her muscles eased as she absorbed his words. A relieved breath of laughter passed her lips. “I was worried that I had scared you off.”
“Impossible, dearest.” The warm metal of his jewelry against her skin was like a balm to her frayed nerves as he adjusted his hold on her hand. As if she were some sort of lady rather than a warrior, he brought her fingers to his lips. Without breaking his gaze, he pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”
Warmth pooled in the pit of her stomach as her heartbeat quickened, her worries evaporating into the ether. “Are you sure?” she asked, the question genuine despite the playfulness of her tone. “You might have to convince me.”
“Absolutely,” he said and took a step closer, forcing her to tilt her head back to see him. He dragged his thumb across her lower lip as he cradled her face in his palms. “But I could certainly try to convince you anyway.”
“I think you should.”
“As do I,” Emmrich whispered, his mouth brushing against hers as he spoke.
His long, elegant, fingers slid to the nape of her neck, threading through her dark hair, before he covered her mouth with his. Isera inhaled deeply as she looped her arms around his neck, breathing in the scent of him — the faint smell of his aftershave, like citrus and tea leaves, and the clean scent of his soap. His presence, his touch, enveloped her completely. It was all too easy to forget where they were.
Soft but commanding, he nudged her mouth open with a confident stroke of his tongue. She let him walk her back until he nearly had her bent over the countertop, her body pressed between the hard surface and the firm contours of his body. Despite friendly jokes claiming otherwise from Davrin and Taash, Emmrich was remarkably fit. As if to prove it, he slid his arms around her and lifted her easily onto the edge of the counter.
Her hands cupped his face as he continued to kiss her like there was nothing in the world he would rather be doing. Heat pooled deep within her as he tilted her head, exploring her mouth with satiny strokes of his tongue. She couldn’t help but smile at the delicate tickle of his mustache against her skin as his mouth caught hers again and again and again.
“Emmrich,” she breathed, lifting her mouth from his. “As much as I hate to ruin the mood… the pasta…”
His eyes widened with a brief, minor, flash of alarm. “Oh, dear.” He pressed another brief, heated kiss to her lips before scurrying across the kitchen to rescue the first batch of ravioli. “It appears they survived our momentary inattentiveness.”
Isera laughed and slid off of the counter. “I should have picked something that doesn’t cook so quickly.”
“Not sure if that would have helped,” he replied as he started on the next batch. “You could keep me occupied for hours, my dear.”
Crimson colored her cheeks, ignited by the heat in his words the spark of desire in his gaze. She swallowed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Emmrich stirred the pot. “So will I.”
---
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated!
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drewdoa · 1 day ago
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ˋ°•*⁀➷ arcane goes gardening <3 • hcs/scenarios !
ˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n: hello :)) this is so me coded it’s scary LMAO but i had to since i also enjoy gardening <3 hopefully this is something i can write about more cause omg i can’t get enough of this
ˋ°•*⁀➷ extra info: suggestive moments while intoxicated, cnc touching, no gender specific reader, a whole lot of flirting ;)
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jinx
would be such a lady and always light you up. it’s her favorite thing honestly, she usually carries a lighter around you now because of it. you found out she started smoking cause you found her box un covered on her desk, not that she had a problem with you seeing it of course, but more of just “hey you kinda wouldn’t expect that from me!”. but you did, which is the funniest part.
making her way down the stairs as the sound of metal pieces clank together, she turned her head to see you standing there by her chair. as jinx made her way down the last few steps she greeted you with a kiss, a passionate one at that. she noticed one of your hands was holding the half finished joint, beautifully wrapped with purple rolling paper.
she looked back at you with an innocent face. “could ya blame me? i even made some for you too darlin’” she said softly, moving the box and pulling the few untouched ones behind her books. “i couldn’t keep it alll to myself”
this ended up with you guys seshing every evening, especially on nights where it’s foggy. less likely to get caught since you’ve got vi and caitlyn to worry about. they can’t let the council know you two have “drugs” around enforcers.
because of that fact though, she picked up baking and learned to make infused pastries! you came back to her place as the scent of trees and cookies followed immediately. it took you a lot of power to not steal one while jinx was icing them <3
i feel like this ties to her growing in the undercity but when she was younger with silco he taught her how to roll. as bad as that sounds..i would say she learned by watching more than him actually teaching her. she would take papers and filters here and there and just practice all the time. making comments about how the colors of the paper were pretty every time he got a new pack.
ugh she’s so a good kisser when stoned it’s un real. you’ve told her about it once and she laughed at you, but you were serious. “i think maybe YOU were a little too high, i kiss you like that all the time!”. she would protest every time until one night both of you got extremely touchy, and one thing led to another. safe to say, you were not too high <3
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viktor
my man absolutely loves weed. even attempted (and successfully managed) to grow his own. knowing viktor, lets be honest, he’s gotta have some secret rooms or spaces to do his own shit. like he genuinely lives in the lab how could he resist. so, one late night he told you to come by, which is pretty rare for him since he really is a workaholic. by the time you got there viktor had everything set up, pretty lights everywhere, he looked handsome, and it was just the two of you<3
time goes by and both of you are sitting near a window, he pulls out a small book and gives it to you. as you examine the cool old leather, he opens the book with his fingertips, to the pages on the inside carved out. it would hold a lighter and 3 joints perfectly wrapped in pink rolling paper.
viktor smirked at you, “i thought you’d get a kick out of the pink, dítě (baby)”. he motioned for you to take one as he grabbed the lighter out the book. as you pressed the paper against your lips, the crack of the lighter followed as you took the first hit . or two, or three.
you passed it to him not long after, his gaze fixed on your face and your eyes as you became more and more intoxicated. as he took a few pulls himself he put it out on the windowsill. both of you sitting there relaxed as ever, in the most vulnerable position.
since then, he would leave you joints in the pocket of your jackets. always with a little note on the side. he would also throw in pieces of candy with it too incase you craved something sweet.
one night you came into the lab after taking an edible jayce and jinx gave you. they of course didn’t mention they were infused, but your first instinct was to find viktor before it really hit you. he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek wrapping his hand around your waist. you then explain to him why you’re really there and he lets out a low giggle. “they really played you huh?” he followed with as his hand slid up your side. his cold hands made it even worse to ignore the feeling. skin to skin, he wasn’t joking when he said he was into it.
usually when you’re stoned and all up on him, he takes such advantage of it in the best way possible. his hands are almost always touching you, teasing and making you feel good without overwhelming you. sometimes you don’t even notice hickeys on your body until you’re fully sober. of course when you went to ask viktor about it he tries to play it off, but the blush on his cheeks and the smile he can’t hide say otherwise<3
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silco
a guy who favors cigars but weed just for you. i feel like his hands are shakey sometimes now so he has trouble rolling, especially all those years of teaching jinx he’s earned a break. hence why he surprised you one day with a bong. see through red glass and shaped like two cherries. he thought you wouldn’t mind it, especially since you’ve been talking about getting a new one.
at first you were nervous to open the box once he told you it was glass (..shocked he didn’t break it himself) but it was totally worth being careful cause it’s the coolest thing you’ve ever received. he even got you a cute lighter that matches.
during nights where he’s up and can’t sleep he’ll pull you over so cuddle and sesh together. having your back against his chest as the sound of his cigar popping and burning fills your ears. you would be using the bong here, practically hotboxing his office and laughing when people walk in to you both higher than the sky.
i feel like he would also have a special drawer dedicated to all his trees. and then have a special compartment for all your stuff <3 refilling things when you run out so you never go a moment without, it’s the father tendency in him.
i think his favorite saying is “you need a break, mon cherie” as he drags you into his office for a sesh. he never really cares if you have “one more thing to finish”, he doesn’t want you overworking yourself, that’s his job really!
if you both had to go somewhere around people (after seshing) he would totally just give you his clothes. next thing you know both of you are matching, you smell like him, and honestly you look great in his coat. he’s also definitely the type to check on you often incase you smoked a little too much and can’t handle it. “mon amor are you feeling alright?” “do you feel okay, love?” “is this too much for you, sweetie?”
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sevika
she’s so mama ugh. nothing but the best from sevika honestly. she’s always prepared for you with anything you ask for. she always has her cigars and such but there’s a special part just for you.
since you’re with her almost all the time, you’ve grown to find comfort in the scent of cigars. even the clothes you wear end up smelling like it, but you don’t mind, all you think about is her. it took her some time to get used to you though, but what caught her the most is that you..weren’t afraid of her?
she hasn’t met many people that match her freak, so it was a big refresher when you came along. but her favorite moment will always be when she caught you smoking in her room. sevika’s huge frame leaned on the doorway as she watched the smoke leave your body. you put your arm out with a j in your hand and motioning her to come sit with you. immediately the door closed as sevika sat on the bed and pulled you into her lap.
“how often do you do this without me?” sevika questioned, looking down at your red hazy eyes. “high eyes have always been gorgeous, yours especially, sweetheart”. sevika thought of these moments as core memories, since she doesn’t usually have time alone with you.
when munchies kick in it’s wraps for you guys. kitchen dates are what mainly pull you two together. i feel like cooking is such a good love language and it doesn’t get talked about enough. (i saw someone point out the fact sevika is obviously an indian queen so that also is gonna apply here <3). she’s very much a fan of cooking dishes from her country and having you try each and every one of them.
totally the type to baby you when you’re bedrotting while high. definitely pulls you on top of her when sleeping to feel your warmth. or you both end up wrapped so tight in blankets you can’t move off eachother ;)). speaking of, in the winter time her room gets extremely cold so both of you guys end up making robes out of her blankets (take viktor styling jayce’s blanket for example<3). she hangs every one of them in her closet during the warmer weather <3
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˚₊ · »-♡→ heyy ;)) i hope this fic was enjoyable <3 more of my content will have themes surrounding cannabis/smoking so that’s just a heads up ^_^ if you liked this please reblog & like! it would be very appreciated <3 - drew
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corkinavoid · 1 day ago
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DPxDC Hogwarts AU [pt. 3]
The third time is... rather different.
Tim is standing still and prim in his new dress robes between both his parents, the shining and glittering ballroom full of soft chatter, music, and clanking glasses right behind him.
Daniel is standing in front of him, his back straight and his hair styled and gelled to the point where it looks like a beret on his head. He is wearing all white, pristine and perfect, and Mr. Masters, who is standing on his right, is dressed in a similar fashion. The man looks like a marble statue, if Tim is being honest, what with his pale skin, silvery hair and light blue, almost colorless eyes.
Tim hadn't paid attention to it before - to be fair, it's not like he had a chance to see Daniel up close until today - but the boy is also very pale. Not a hint of blush on his cheeks, no freckles or birthmarks that he can see. If Tim hadn't seen him move, he would have been certain he was looking at a porcelain doll, not a human being.
The other person accompanying them is a woman with short, cut just below her ears, ginger hair. And, unlike both Daniel and Mr. Masters, she is not as colorless, wearing a dress in light, shimmering blue, with a high laced collar and tight sleeves. She is smiling pleasantly at Mother as she greets her, keeping her hand on Daniel's shoulder, and, overall, looks a lot more alive than anyone Tim has so far met or seen tonight.
Which is nice. Tim didn't think that when people heard the name 'Winter Ball', they were meant to take it literally and show up acting like frozen sculptures.
The ginger-haired lady curtsies with a smile, and both Mr. Masters and Daniel nod before going past them and entering the ballroom of Drake manor. Tim glances over his shoulder - Daniel kept looking at him as if they've never met before, and Tim is not sure what to think of it - but the boy keeps walking after his chaperones without as much as acknowledging him.
It's only when Tim starts turning his head back that he sees the other boy shoot him a tiny grin over his shoulder.
Tim might not be an expert in body language or socializing, but even he knows that grin means nothing good for the guests at the Ball. Especially given Daniel's previous records. Tim bites back a smile of his own.
Good. This party can definitely use some elephant trunks, in his opinion.
~~~
Roughly an hour later, when Tim had long lost sight of the whole Masters family in the glittering crowd, and, to be honest, kind of forgot to anticipate whatever Daniel was going to do, the boy shows up in front of him again.
He appears from what seems to be thin air, out of breath but with his robes still perfectly white - Tim suspects some sort of spell - and cuts right in between Stephanie and Tim, grabbing the latter's wrist.
"Dance with me," he breathes out urgently, and Tim blinks. Daniel's fingers are cold as ice on his skin.
"What?" He asks, baffled, and Stephanie makes a loud, undignified snort, not bothering to cover her mouth. Daniel shoots her a quick surprised look, like he didn't even see her until she made a sound, but she just shakes her head and makes a tiny step away.
"I don't dance," she says, an innocent smile on her lips, and that's a lie, Tim knows she can dance, she did that not ten minutes ago. She just wants Tim to suffer, the blond traitor in an embroidered dress.
"Good, because I didn't invite you," Daniel smirks, tilting his head to the side, and it should sound like an insult, but somehow doesn't. Stephanie grins back. Tim has an awfully damning feeling like the two of them would get along like a house on fire, given half a chance. And he doesn't like that idea.
Merlin, when he wished for the ball to be a little bit more fun than it is, he didn't mean this. Not that he intends on stopping either of them, but he is pretty sure they are not allowed to join efforts because that will end with the ballroom in ruins. And Tim likes his house in one piece, thanks.
It's also quite irritating how the two of them can just exchange ten words with each other and become friends.
Tim twists his hand in Daniel's grip and grabs him, all but dragging the boy away from Stephanie and to the brightly lit dancefloor. He wanted to dance? Tim can dance, no problem. He bets he can dance ten times better than Daniel, he's had so many lessons.
The boy makes a short, surprised sound at the sudden movement, but then follows suit without a word. His hand is still cold. Maybe one of them should wear gloves.
"Why did you want to dance?" Tim asks, as they get to the edge of the crowd, where the glitter of jewels and the flurry of robes are making a complicated picture of waltz. Why did you ask me, Tim wants to ask, actually, but he is not sure he wants an answer.
Daniel pulls him back by their still joined hands, making Tim turn around, and puts his other hand on Tim's waist, like it's the most natural thing ever. Dancing, right. Tim puts his own hand on Daniel's shoulder and steps closer.
"Sam would actually murder me if I asked her, and I don't know anyone else," the boy explains with a careless shrug, tilting his head to the side and listening to the music. Tim sees his lips move but hears no words - counting the steps, no doubt.
"You don't even know my name," Tim rolls his eyes, and maybe he is a little petty, but he doesn't need to count steps. He just pulls Daniel into the dance, careful enough not to bump into anyone else. The boy follows his lead easily enough, even though he seems a lot more concentrated on where he puts his feet than Tim is. So, he is better at dancing. Nice to know.
"I do, you're Tim," Daniel tells him a few minutes later, when both of them are fairly confident they are not going to trip over each other's feet. Although Tim almost does anyway - he didn't expect that.
On the other hand, it's probably Samantha who told him. Mrs. Manson brought her over to Drake estate a few times but made sure not to invite Tim to Manson's. Probably in order to avoid the same daring escape to happen twice.
"And you're Daniel, but we were never introduced," he counters, "You're not supposed to know."
"That's a stupid rule," Daniel huffs and loses his footing slightly, stepping on Tim's toe, "Oh, sorry. And it's Danny, not Daniel. I hate 'Daniel'."
Tim rolls his eyes and is a little proud that it doesn't cause a single pause in his steps.
But then, there's a crackle up in the air above them, like a firework that went off too close to the ground, and that causes Tim to startle and almost trip over Danie- Danny. The boy's grip on his waist tightens as he keeps Tim from falling, and when Tim looks back up at him, Danny is grinning, wide and excited, and happy.
Just like he did back when they first met. Well, when Tim first saw him.
Which is kind of making Tim's stomach feel weird, but also can only mean one thing.
Tim looks up.
The chandeliers in the ballroom are all giant and lit with a thousand candles, and the patterns of countless mirrors on the ceiling and walls only make the lights seem endless. Not a starry sky, but a myriad of tiny suns thrown all over the high ceilings.
Another crackle follows the first one, and Tim sees a dozen of tiny explosions go off from the chandelier, shooting in all directions and turning into bursts of white, sparkling stardust that slowly fades in the air.
"Pretty, right?" Danny asks quietly as more and more little stars are born high above the crowd, filling the air with shimmering lights. Tim suddenly realizes that they've stopped dancing - and everyone else did, too - and his mouth is hanging open, because this is the prettiest thing he's ever seen, and he didn't expect Danny to do something beautiful. He expected a prank, a joke, something ridiculous like the elephant trunks or the escape on a broom, but this-
This is magic.
Tim can't look away, he doesn't want to look away, but he still tears his gaze from the ceiling and looks at Danny.
"How did you do it?" He asks, quiet enough so no one would hear them over all the fireworks. The boy shrugs nonchalantly, but his eyes hold the reflection of all the sparkling stars above them.
"If I tell you, it won't be that fun," he says, smiling.
Tim doesn't ask again, instead looking back up to the ceiling full of exploding sparks.
It's the best party he's ever seen.
—☆—☆—☆—
Visuals that I might have spent too much time looking for:
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And Tim's obligatory post-party drawings:
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[Picrew]
Also, for the ambiance reasons, listen to the 'Once Upon a December' cover by Céline Lavigne.
—☆—☆—☆—
More random info on the characters:
Stephanie Brown is related to Lavender Brown, they are distant cousins, with Steph being a few years older. Her father is currently in Azkaban, and due to this fact, Steph and her mother are not often welcome in most social circles. They have a somewhat tense relationship with the rest of Brown family, but they are not ostracized, just generally frowned upon. Steph doesn't care much, though, you can break walls with her self-esteem. Her mother was a Hufflepuff, and she wants to be one as well.
Jack stayed home with Dani because she is too young to go through a whole ball without getting bored and stirring up some trouble. Danny was allowed to go under the condition that he won't ruin the evening, and he didn't! He made it better for all he knows! Malicious compliance, his favorite tool to use.
Later that evening the guests kept giving Jack and Janet Drake their compliments for the fireworks, and they both gladly accepted them, all while wondering who the fuck did that.
Neither Tim nor Vlad or Maddie, who knew who's at fault, said anything, although Maddie did ask Danny to never do that again without giving prior warning.
[<- part 2 | part 4 ->]
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writingwisterias · 2 days ago
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Day 23: Praise Kink
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ID! Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Reader Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Praise Kink, Training, Gun, Training room sex Masterlist
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Of course, Leon had noticed your training had begun to slip, he was dragging himself to the shooting range with you every morning. No matter how hard he tried your score never increased. He could see your confidence slipping as the other recruits began to notice your low score. If he wanted to find you he was sure you were in the shooting range. You tried everything you could to get better and yet the more your confidence slipped so did your score. He could see the fire of ambition slowly die inside of you and decided enough was enough. 
He hated being awake so early, especially after he spent the night in some stupid bar he stumbled into. At least you were thankful for the extra attention he was offering. He saw you standing outside the door to the shooting range, two coffees held in your hands as you looked off into the distance. Your headphones looked like earmuffs over your head as you wrapped up warm to fight the winter chill. It was early enough the range would be empty, none of the agents assigned to training groups of recruits would be arriving any time soon, and the sky was still dark. Your frame is highlighted dimly with the street lamps. 
Your smile was brighter than any lingering stars as you saw him. Your sweater-covered hand holding out the hot drink to him. “I needed one so I thought you might as well” You spoke. He could hear your music as you pulled the headphones away from your head, they now hung around your neck. “Keep listening to music at that volume you won't need any ear protection when shooting” Leon teased. His heart fluttered at your shy smile blush coating your cheeks as your hands began rummaging your pockets for your phone to lower the volume.  
Easing into the training wasn’t the hard thing, it was just your aim. It was even worse than before everyone started teasing, Leon predicted the constant bullying from everyone else was a direct result. So instead of following the methods of all the other agents assigned to this task, he took a kinder approach. Hoping his praise and chilled-out attitude would help you relax and not overthink. It worked to his credit; your aim was improving and your score was slowly increasing. Yet your mind loved the extra attention Leon gave you, heart fluttering at every adjustment he would step closer to do. His rewarding words heading to other areas. 
You jumped slightly as he stepped closer to readjust your grip, his eyebrows pinching in confusion as his hands touched your hip. “You good? I didn’t mean to make you jump” Leon spoke. His breath tickled your neck causing you to flinch slightly, blush coating your cheeks as you felt bad for your reactions. You knew it was because you had woken up earlier than normal, your toy in your nightstand finding its purpose yet again after another dream of Leon fucking you. Having to face him after such a graphic dream was tough, his close proximity didn’t help either. 
“I’m good sorry, I don't know why I’m so jumpy today..must have been a dream I had” You half laughed. Leon clearly assumed it was a nightmare the way he nodded, silently agreeing with you. “I’m here if you want to talk about it. We have time before the others show up” 
He was too kind for his own good sometimes, his caring nature making him all the more alluring to him. You could have made up something, some random nightmare but Leon was smarter than that. He would have clocked on instantly. Instead, you chose the cheap side and said you didn’t want to talk about it. Leon just raised an eyebrow. 
“Our training sessions are a safe space for everything and anything…Do you trust me?” 
Your heart stuttered unable to think of a reply faster than the hot flush set in. “I do trust you…it’s just…just complicated” You muttered, your arms crossing over your chest as you met his gaze. You felt so small and shy like you were about to be scolded by a teacher. Once that was always nice to you and then you suddenly get into their bad books. “Complicated how?” Leon asked, his body now resting on the bench - nudging ammo out of the way to set his arms beside him. His hands looked so good, flexed over the edge of the table. His veins were now more prominent. They always looked well-kept. “Something on my hands?” he laughed meeting your eyeline. You broke out of your trance shaking your head. “No No, they just look good” 
“My hands?” 
God you were just making this worse. Digging yourself deep into a hole you weren’t sure you could get out of. Leon smirked, his teasing attitude written all over his face. He had already caught you out on your own lie, your body language speaking volumes over your words. Leon stood up, sauntering over to your stuttering form, his hands landing on your shoulders instantly calming you. “Do you ever relax?” He chuckled. Leon was so close, yet there was no gun in your hand. He was voluntarily in your space. “It’s hard to relax sometimes” You muttered back, hand rubbing the back of your neck nervously as you met his eyes. Leon chuckled, his face inches from yours. “Let me help you” 
He watched your features for any rejection, giving you time to process his request. His grin grew when he saw it, the subtle nod of your head. His lips were softer than you originally thought they would be as they landed on yours. They worked in sync perfectly with yours. His presence was dominating demanding control which you gladly gave him. Leon spun you around, walking you back towards the shelf he was just perched on. You worked on removing your leggings, whilst he focused on his trousers. The kiss never broke. 
He only broke it to hoist you up on the shelf, his body spreading your legs as he invaded your space. “You impressed me today. Seems our 1-1 time is working” 
Leon tasted like the coffee you had given him this morning mixed with the faint taste of whiskey he drank last night. It was intoxicating. Your tongue already craving more. His compliments melted your brain as his lips muttered them against your neck. Blemishes making themselves known with the sting he left behind. Leon sunk his cock inside of you with a groan. Your walls instantly welcome him, warming him. “Fuck..pretty girl having such a perfect cunt” He grunted as he began to move. 
He made sure you felt every inch, his hips pistoning inside you at such an insane speed. Leon’s hand gripped at your thighs, holding one over his hip as the other hand gripped at your head bringing you in for another kiss. Leon was bold and passionate with you. Worshipping every clench, moan or whimper you gave him as he continued to fuck you. “Such a good girl, I should reward you like this all the time and then maybe you’ll be the best agent there is” 
Your brain faltered at creating any form of a coherent response, the letters jumbling up as your head fell against his shoulder. His praise continued to tighten the coil in your stomach, almost ready to snap. “Be a good girl and cum before the others arrive, I want to feel it around my cock” 
He groaned loudly as you finally snapped, your cum instantly coating his cock coating his trousers. The forces of your orgasm caused his. He moaned as your legs tightened around him, trapping him inside as he coated your walls. “There's more if you break your record in front of the rest of them” 
“Seems like a worthy reward”
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Taglist: @kasueli@luvrgreyy@michellekmsh@miss0giarra@cinnabunnysavvy@redollface@my-loved-figure-skates@luvlouiee@drawboo22@moth-quasar@nyxxoxo@crazy-b1tch
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spidermans-l-o-v-e-r · 2 days ago
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The Polar Express, 2004
Pairing: Buck x Reader
Word count: 3k
Notes: I don’t think you understand the phone shit I’m going through right now, especially with how I only write on my phone it hurts my FEELINGS so yeah this is not edited and I’ve done my best okay I literally am currently finishing it as I’m typing this
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Buck stands at the counter, tapping his fingers against the smooth marble.
“Okay… the cookies are in, the bread is proofing, the cake is cooling, the scones have another 10 or so minutes until they’re ready to be iced…”
He scrolls on his iPad, reading through all his notes and recipes. He was stressed, incredibly stressed, he’d hesitantly asked Athena two weeks ago if he could host Secret Santa and then they’d all migrate over to her place for dinner and presents.
She graciously agreed, it gave her more time to get everything ready and less to stress about on Christmas Day. But now here he is, at one in the morning, the kitchen is a disaster zone that he’s disappointed in because he always cleans as he goes, the cookies aren’t going to have anywhere to cool if he doesn’t get cleaning and he hasn’t even started on buttercream.
Why the hell he thought this was a good idea he doesn’t freaking know, he doesn’t know why he volunteered, he doesn’t know why he put himself through this he doesn’t know why the bag of powdered sugar is on the floor, he doesn’t-
He jumps a little, he hadn’t even heard you pad softly down the stairs, he hadn’t heard you trying to get his attention. It’s like everything just stops as soon as you put your arms around his waist, your hands coming to rest on his chest.
“Buck? You in there?” You ask quietly, you sound sleepy. He takes a deep breath and turns in your arms
“Hey baby” He smiles softly, leaning down to kiss your nose “Did I wake you?”
“Nah, kinda woke up on my own” You rest your chin on his chest, blinking sleepily “You okay?”
“I’m fine, really”
You pull back a little, giving him a skeptical look. His disheveled appearance screams anything but fine. The mess around the kitchen is a little cry for help to sort through the mess that is his anxiety right now.
He just wanted everyone to be proud.
You pull away from him and go over to the little hooks in the corner, grabbing your small pink apron and tying it around you. You grab the matching pink scrunchie with it and pull your hair back.
“What do you need from me, Chef?”
“It would be a big help if you helped me clean up a bit? Maybe watched the cookie timer? And then helped me dip the scones when they’re ready and-“
You come over to the counter and start collecting everything and moving it to the sink, you stand on your toes as you pass and he bends down to peck your lips
“One at a time baby boy,” You tell him calmly “We can handle this”
He melts as you kick your stool in front of the sink and dump everything in to start washing. He always made fun of you for it, but it was easier to rinse from higher up okay.
He sits back for a moment, watching you clean the dishes without any complaining, just…getting straight to work to help him out. He comes over and wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in the back of your neck
“I love you, so fucking much” He mumbles and you smile, leaning into him a little
“I love you too, you’re doing really good Buck. They’re gonna be really impressed”
“I’m just, I’m so worried things won’t turn out”
“You’re seriously talented Evan,” You tell him, glaring at him a little “Don’t let your brain tell you any different”
“Easier said than done” He reaches forward, taking the dish from you and rinsing it
“This would be way sexier if you were helping me with the bread earlier”
You snicker and push him back a little, grabbing the dish and setting it on the rack
“Just start on your buttercream weirdo”
He takes a clean bowl and sets it up on the stand mixer, with you helping keep things clean suddenly his mind isn’t as cluttered, the cookie timer goes off and he doesn’t even have a chance to turn around before you’re pulling them out and setting them down on the counter space you’d cleared for them.
You check on the cake for him as he’s getting the bread into the oven next and then start on the glaze for the scones. He’s watching you mix it by hand while his buttercream goes in the stand mixer and his heart aches at the sight of you, you’ve got bubbles in your hair from the dishes and a little dash of powdered sugar across your face. You smell like fresh lemons and sweet raspberry scones, and god do you look good enough to eat… he doesn’t miss the tiny pajama shorts you’re wearing and one of his large t-shirts slightly tucked into it.
You reach over and pull the little lever to stop the stand mixer and he blinks rapidly
“You’re gonna over mix it” You warn him before going back to your glaze, he looks down at his perfect vanilla butter cream, his perfect raspberry scones you’re dipping and his perfect cake sitting on the counter waiting to be iced.
And then he looks at his perfect you, and suddenly everything isn’t so bad anymore… that anxious tension between his shoulder blades is gone, that slight tremor that nearly ruined his royal icing borders from a batch of cookies earlier is gone…
“What are you doing?” You watch as he puts the crumb-coated-cake into the fridge, lays a tea towel over the cookies and puts the rest of his dishes into the dishwasher
“We can finish those in the morning, it won’t take long”
You set another scone onto the tray and he hands you the next one, his body pressing against yours, soft and warm…and something hard pressing into your side
“I think you forgot to take one of your spatulas from your apron” you chuckle as you swirl the scone through the creamy white glaze and set it on the tray. Buck pushes your hand away as you reach for another and he reaches into the bowl, scooping up some of the sticky, white, mixture.
“Hey! I’ve still got four-“
Your words are cut off as he slides his fingers into your mouth, his lips ghost over the shell of your ear as he pulls you closer to him
“Clean ‘em up for me baby”
You do as he says, running your tongue over his fingers and sucking them clean, he kisses your neck softly, fucking your mouth with them before pulling them away with a wet pop.
“Good girl”
He unties your apron, setting it aside before taking your shirt off next, his hands come up your sides, leaving a trail of flour. He palms your breasts running his thumbs over your nipples and you let out a shuddering sigh as they pebble under the cool air and his touch
“Every day I fall more and more in love with you” He mumbles, kissing you with a heated passion, his tongue slipping past your lips as you gasp. He grabs your hips tighter and sits you on the counter, stepping between your legs
“I know what you mean” you reach behind you, twirling the honey wand before pulling it back out and letting the sticky substance drip down over your breasts
His eyes widen as he watches the golden liquid trickle down your chest, pooling in your cleavage. He licks his lips, his cock twitching with anticipation.
“Fuck, that's hot” he breathes, his hands trembling slightly as he reaches out to trace a finger through the honey, gathering it up before bringing it to his mouth.
“Mmm, you taste even sweeter than I imagined” he murmurs, his tongue swirling around his finger.
He leans down, his tongue darting out to lap at the honey on your skin, his hands cupping your breasts and kneading them gently. He takes his time, savoring every drop, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin.
His hands reach down, tugging on your panties and you lift your hips as he pulls them off. He runs his fingers through your soaked folds teasingly
“So fuckin’ wet for me already, aren’t you?”
He slips his fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing against your clit and you pant softly, leaning back on your elbows as he fucks you, his fingers curl upward and you gasp desperately, letting your head fall back, pressing your back into the flour covered counters. Your hands come up to tug at the roots of your hair, sugar sticking to your forearms as he works you open with his fingers. He pulls his fingers away, licking them clean and you whimper at the empty feeling
“Shhh baby” He drops his basketball shorts and his cock springs out, hard and thick, the tip leaking precum already. It drips down from the tip of his cock and you lick your lips as he steps onto your little stool
“Arent you already tall enough??” You poke at him and he grabs your hips, dragging you to his cock. He rubs his tip through your glistening lips, staring into your eyes with so much love and adoration.
“Just gives me a better angle to make love to you” He rocks his hips, shallowly thrusting the tip in and you gasp, biting your lip.
“You’re so pretty baby” He teases your clit again, rubbing slow torturous circles until he finally slowly pushes forward, his cock sliding deep inside your tight walls. He groans at the sensation, his eyes rolling back in pleasure and you sigh dreamily, your eyes rolling back too.
He sets a slower pace, flour covered hands leaving prints behind as he thrusts slow and hard, his hips kissing yours each time. He growls lowly, a primal noise coming from his chest as he works you on his cock.
His hands roam your body, caressing your tits, your stomach, your thighs, leaving trails of flour and sugar in their wake. He picks up the pace, his hips snapping against yours, the intense sound filling the kitchen and echoing in your ears as he slowly starts to lose control
“Holy shit, Buck” You pant, arching your back up and moaning for him, your heart pounds in your ears in time with his thrusts and you slowly remember the reason you’re always so gone for him
He moans deeply, placing his palms flat on the counter and rutting into you and you whimper with each thrust, your mind spinning at the way he fills you up.
“I want, I want to try something” He pulls out slowly, his chest heaving as he rubs his thumb through your soaked folds. You squirm underneath him and his finger keeps going, your eyes nearly pop out of your head as he pushes against that tight ring of muscle
“You think it’s been too long since we…?” He manhandles you onto your stomach, helping you place your knees on the counter
“N-no I think- I think I could handle that”
“You really think so?” He reaches forward and you just see a jar disappearing from your peripheral vision “I don’t wanna push you”
You put your forehead against your hands waiting with bated breath, his hand slides over your ass, pulling your cheeks apart and your back arches deeper. What he doesn’t know is that this was definitely going to be apart of his Christmas present this year and you’d been wearing a plug all week before taking it out before bed.
“Jesus you’re gonna give me a heart attack with the way you’re presenting yourself” He chuckles lightly. You hear a soft “tink” before you feel the sweet honey dripping over your ass, he moans as it slides down over your pretty, puffy lips and he can’t take it anymore.
You squeak as he dives in, your ass spread wide as he licks at your hole, his moans vibrate up your spine and pretty soon you’re moaning with him. He pulls away, drizzling a little more honey over your hole and kissing your cheek before pulling your legs down so you’re hanging off the counter.
“You ready for me baby?” He spreads your cheeks again and spits, and you squeak. He gives your ass a little smack, smirking
“Earth to bunny”
“I’m ready” you punctuate your words with a little shake of your hips and he takes the honey wand again, drizzling some over his cock and stroking it slowly before lining himself up. He taps your cheek lovingly before pushing into you carefully.
Your jaw drops slowly at the intense pressure as he slides into you. He groans loudly, his palms sliding over your body as he lays against you, his chest firm against your back.
“Feels so g-good Bunny” his hips stutter as he tries to keep from plowing right into you. He works you on his cock slowly, getting you used to his size again and you lay plastered against the counter, moaning softly and taking everything he’s giving you.
“You think you can take me harder baby? Faster?” His teeth are gritted, like he’s fighting even harder now to hold back and that sends a thrill right down to your core. He feels so impossibly big in your ass, stretching you in a way he hasn’t in a good while.
“I can handle it” You reassure him again, eagerly moving your hips on his cock and he grins wickedly
“Thats my slutty little Bunny”
He takes it slow for a minute, working you up to a faster pace before you’re making little squeaking sounds again with every rough thrust. His hands leave sticky fingerprints behind, marking your body with all the dirty things he’s doing to you. He drizzles more honey over his cock as he thrusts in and out, moaning at the little tendrils that stick you together over and over.
You reach out, holding onto the heavy stand mixer to brace yourself as he pins you down to the counter, his hand on the back of your neck
“You're so fucking sexy like this, spread out for me, taking my cock like a good little slut” he growls, his words filthy and degrading, but filled with a twisted sort of affection.
You babble in response and it just drives him crazier, he holds your hips in hands, definitely leaving behind bruises that you absolutely welcome.
Your eyes roll back and you dig your head into the counter, he reaches backward awkwardly for a second and rips a towel from the stove, he leans forward pushing inside you deeper and you cry out his name, your legs shaking.
“I’m sorry baby” he snickers, lifting your head gently and putting the towel underneath it, it’s not much but it’s something. His movements become a bit slower, deeper, and you grip that stand mixer with everything left in you as he makes love to you. His hand slides over your torso, his fingers rubbing your clit slowly, and you let out a shuddering little sigh
“There’s my pretty girl, nothin’ in that head of yours but my cock huh? Love it when you get this way”
You nod dumbly at him and he groans, his head falling back as his hips smack into yours rougher, his finger start rubbing your clit faster and you arch your back and bring your knees to your chest. He holds them in place, hissing at how tight you are around him, his pace becomes erratic again as he loses his mind inside you.
He messily places your hand over your clit and sinks his fingers inside you. You shriek as he plunges his cock in and out of your ass, his fingers working in tandem in your pussy
“Come on bunny, fuck cum for me please, I need to see you fall apart first please bunny please”
His whiny, begging, tone sends you over the edge as you scream his name, tears streaming down your face as your back arches fully off the counter and you squirt over his fingers, he moans your name loudly as he finishes inside you, fucking his cum as deeply as he can into you. He rolls his hips with each thrust before holding it inside you, pushing into you.
You lay on the counter stunned, your body shaking as you let your body turn to jelly underneath him. You weakly wipe at the tears on your face and he steps down off the stool, sliding you off the counter with him and staggers over to the couch. He plops down heavily onto it, before letting his body fall slump down, keeping his arms tightly around you.
You lay together for a while, panting softly in his neck while he rubs your back soothingly, occasionally placing weak little kisses to your temple. He can’t move very much either after that and neither of you have a problem with this.
He’s distractedly humming underneath the tree when he suddenly shifts a little, getting you both more comfy
“I think I broke my dick”
You snort into his chest as he grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and tosses it haphazardly over the two of you.
“I don’t think you broke your dick” you tell him and he scoffs
“How would you know? It’s inside you, you can’t see it!”
“Okay. By that logic, neither can you. Buck I think we’d know if you broke your dick… if that’s even possible”
“Oh it is, I’ve seen it before” his eyes close and you lift your head, looking at his peaceful expression as he starts to fall asleep.
“You’ve seen a broken dick before???”
Suddenly his bread alarm goes off and he jumps, accidentally knocking you off of him and onto the floor.
“My bread!!”
“My kidneys”
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menteycorazoncito · 2 days ago
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𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐞-𝐔𝐩 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 - 𝐏𝐚𝐮 𝐂𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐬í
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ᥫ᭡: pairing: Pau Cubarsí x reader
ᥫ᭡: warnings: none
ᥫ᭡: a/n: This is the first fic I post ever so please be nice. I really hope you enjoyed this. Criticism and feedback is always welcome!! Enjoy :)
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Staying up late to study for university finals seemed inevitable. You were sat on your desk, surrounded by a mountain of chunky books and countless cups of coffee to survive the night. 
It was all fine despite Pau's pleadings for you to finally come to bed and have some rest. Yet, as stubborn as you were, you dismissed him expressing your urgent need to study.
All was fine until you fell asleep in between books and assignments despite the high amount of caffeine in your body. It seemed that during your study session, you forgot that you have to wake up at 6 a.m. to actually go to uni. 
So when your five alarms rang to wake you up in the morning, you slept through every single one of them.
Pau, whose free day was today, got woken up like any other normal human being. 
Annoyed that your alarm woke the entirety of Barcelona but you, he took matters into his own hands and made his way towards your desk to (attempt) to wake you up. 
He let out a small prayer while approaching, knowing not to mess with a sleeping Y/N, especially after the little sleep you had last night.
"Y/N… y/n, mi amor wake up." he tried softly, kissing your head while slightly shaking your shoulder. 
You mumbled something, still not fully awake.
He nudged you again "Baby wake up you have uni" 
No reaction. 
He sighs "Y/nnn…" he shakes your shoulder a bit harder "Cariño, you slept through your alarms"
You barely opened your eyes. Then without any warning you took your fist and swung it right into Pau's nose. "Let me sleep…." you mumbled.
He jumped back, clutching his nose in pain. "Oh Déu meu!" 
Deciding he liked his nose way too much to try waking you again, Pau carried you to bed and went back to sleep, not before kissing your forehead. It was a sweet habit he picked up since you two got together. 
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When you woke up again after a while, the sun was much brighter, despite the closed curtains. The dreaded notification sound of your phone pulled you from the haze of sleep. You reached over for your phone half-lidded to see what the fuss was about. Your eyes shot open upon realising the 15 messages and 6 missed calls from your best friend, all asking where you are.
You looked at the time, your heart skips a beat as you freeze. No. No, this can't be. 
10:00 a.m. You had missed class entirely. 
Groaning in frustration, you pushed yourself up. As you sat up, trying to figure out what to do until reality hit you hard. Why hadn't Pau woken you up like he usually does?
Looking over toward the bed, you saw Pau still asleep, his fluffy hair tousled against his forehead, his peaceful face unaware of his surroundings. 
He looked like an angel while sleeping, and you couldn't help but admire him for a moment. Until, reality sank in again: He was the reason–well one of the reasons why you were late and for that matter still in bed. 
"Pau…" you whispered, nudging him with your elbow. "Pau, wake up. I'm late" 
He was still out of it. 
"Pau" you tried again, a bit louder. 
No response.
You nudged him harder this time. "Paaaaau!"
His eyes finally fluttered open slightly and you expected him to jump into action. Instead he blankly looked at you, yawned, and sighed. "Five more minutes please" he mumbled, his voice raspy and laced with sleep.
You slumped back against the pillows in frustration. "Pau, no, I'm late."
Yes, you were making the fact that you are late, in fact too late to show up at all, his problem now too. 
Pau slowly cracked his eyes fully open. "What?" he asked innocently.
You stared at him in disbelief. “You were supposed to wake me up!”
He muttered something indistinct muffled by the pillow. “I tried! You punched me in the face and went back to sleep.” 
"What??" you blinked, your mind still processing.
You had hit him in your sleep? What kind of reaction was this to him waking you up? 
"I tried to wake you up! You punched me in the face and I decided to go back to sleep… With you in my arms." 
Oh so now you were the reason why he fell asleep again??
He yawned and stretched then pulled you back into his arms, snuggling deeper into the bed with a satisfied sigh "So… no class today, huh?" 
Your heart dropped to your stomach. No class today. The idea of spending the day at home and relaxing didn't sound bad at all. It was just one day after all. A day without responsibilities, stress or lectures. A day with Pau.
You stopped your train of thoughts to look at his content face. You felt a smile tugging at your lips at the absurdity of the situation. How could you stay mad at him for too long?
"I guess not…" You smacked his shoulder playfully. "But you owe me."
"Owe you? As you haven't been planning to stay in anyway." he pulled you closer to him for more warmth, his voice teasing.
He is so hopeless. 
"Well what else am I supposed to do?..." you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't stop the smile that spread across your face. "By the way sorry about your face, love" you apologised when the real realisation hit. You had actually punched him in the face..
"It was nothing," he reassured you, referring to his past injury. 
" I've been through worse." 
You chuckled and kissed his cheek, knowing what he was referring to "Way worse indeed," you said.
He grinned, "See? I can handle a little punch." Then he pulled you in for a deep kiss, slow and lingering, before resting his forehead against yours. 
"I guess I'm stuck with you today," you muttered, running your fingers through his messy mop of hair.
Pau's smile softened and he whispered, "Can't think of anything better."
There in that peaceful, warm bed, you realised that maybe missing class wasn't such a tragedy after all.
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lafortezaboy · 3 days ago
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I'd like to request a little bit of angst if you're comfortable writing something like this!
Could I request Sophia, Daniela and/or Manon finding out that reader was in some accident that sent them to the hospital, before or after they go on stage, and then rushing to go see them
of course angel! i chose sophia for this because it felt like a prompt meant for her, but i honestly feel like they'd all react fairly similarly and rush to the reader's side.
triggers / warnings: car accidents, hospitals, mentions of light blood / injury, jokes about the car crash you were just in, a suggestive joke made at the end
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there had been only a little bit of annoyance festering inside of sophia, as she scanned the front row and didn't find you. this show wasn't a big one, but between traveling and your own busy schedule, it had been the first you were able to attend. the disappointment of you missing it – of you forgetting, or getting distracted by something else, it caused her to feel alone, unimportant. things you had never made her feel before.
it was only when she was finally off stage that she was able to find out the truth. she and your mom had bonded quickly, especially with her being so far from her own and your mom welcoming her into the family upon meeting her. it wasn't uncommon for your mom to call her, but the multiple missed calls clued sophia in quickly that something was wrong. she read the text your mom had sent her, and the second she read it, she felt the blood in her veins run cold.
hi sweetie, y/n was in a car accident. they asked me to let you know, their phone was damaged in the accident.
the follow up text with the name hospital you were in was all sophia needed to rush out, but the girls saw how quickly her mood had shifted, and manon had been the one to get sophia to calm down long enough to explain. worry immediately filled them all, but they remained as calm as they could for sophia, knowing panicking would only make her panic more. she changed out of her performance attire quickly, and hopped in the car with megan, knowing she'd get her there the fastest. a quick text was sent to your mom, saying that sophia was on her way.
as soon as she stepped into the lobby, she spotted your mom waiting for her. the two of them met halfway, your mom taking her hand and leading her through the hospital to get to your room. as soon as the two of them stepped into your room, sophia felt that annoyance she had felt quickly turn into guilt.
tears welled in her eyes at the sight of you – little cuts and bruises littered across your face, one arm bandaged and in a sling, small specks of blood dotted around your shirt. what caught her eyes the most was the stitches that went across your cheek. noticing her eyes taking in the sight of you, you gave a tired smile, holding your hand out to her. "it's okay, baby."
your words were her breaking point, and almost immediately she was knelt beside your bed, arms wrapping around you as gently as she could, face buried in your neck as she let her tears fall. your uninjured arm wrapped around her, hand coming up to stroke her hair as you let her cry. at the sight of you two, your mom silently stepped out of the room, giving you some privacy as sophia sobbed into your neck.
"i'm so sorry," she spoke in between gasps for breath, and you frowned then, hand stilling in her hair. maybe it was just the fact that your head still hurt, but you couldn't understand what she could be apologizing for. "why, soph? it's not like you're the one who hit me."
she pulled back enough to look at you, but she avoided your eyes, hands picking at a loose thread on her shirt. you noticed it was one of yours, an old band shirt she had to have dug out of your closet, and the sight made you smile. but she was clearly upset, and you didn't focus on that long. gently, your fingers took her chin in them, and you lifted her face up to meet your eyes. "baby, talk to me? what's wrong?"
she let out a shaky breath, but didn't look away completely and you took that as a good sign. "well i . . . when you didn't show up, i thought that . . . that maybe you missed the show on purpose. i was – baby i was upset with you, and you got hurt on the way to my show. if you just stayed home, you wouldn't even be here." it took a second for the words to sink in, but as soon as they did, your hand moved, cupping her cheek as you met her eyes again.
"hey, you didn't know. there's no way you could've known until after you were off stage, you know that," you said, thumb stroking over her cheek gently. her hand came up to cover yours, and after a moment she pulled it down, letting her lips press against the back of your hand. "you don't have anything to be sorry for, you didn't know, and this wasn't your fault. someone would've gotten hit at that stop sign, no matter what. it just happened to be me because i got bad luck. not because my girlfriend forced me to be on the road."
your reassurances helped some, but the guilt was still there, and sophia knew it would be for a while. and you did too, so you tugged on her hand, trying to get her to join you in the bed. immediately she tried to deny you, but you ignored that, tugging again. begrudgingly almost, she sat beside you, and you sat up a little straighter, moving so you could rest your forehead on her shoulder. "whatever blame you're putting on yourself, i forgive you. and i love you, and i feel like i just got hit by a truck, which i did, so i need cuddles. and maybe you in a nurse outfit thrown in there too."
that got a little laugh out of her, and she pulled back to meet your eyes, hand squeezing yours gently. "this bed's way too small for both of us, and i'm not making any promises on the nurse outfit," she said. "but how about we get you home, and i'll give you all the cuddles you want?"
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penkura · 1 day ago
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Jingle Bells
Summary: Its your son's first Christmas and Law wishes certain people were here.
Note: I'm sorry for the angst. :') Law just leads to it when I write him.
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“Law, we should put him in his crib.”
“Mm…I will in a bit.”
It makes you smile to watch Law just sit with and hold your son Rosi while he sleeps, especially with the lights from your Christmas tree brightening the room. Your eight-month-old doesn’t seem bothered by the lights, comfortably snoozing in Law’s arms with the jingle bells he got from a party earlier that day still clutched in his little hands. You had taken him to a party with all your friends and their own kids, little gift bags were given to them with homemade sugar cookies (Sanji’s doing), a small bit of money (Nami’s doing), and, unfortunately, a set of jingle bells, which you just knew was because of Luffy. Once Rosi got a hold of his set, and heard the sound they made just from him moving his little arms, he didn’t stop the whole time during the party, and neither did the other toddlers that got their sets in their hands. It sounded like a badly put together children’s choir performance, most of you were about to threaten Luffy with providing his kids with worse musical instruments one day.
Rosi continued shaking his jingle bells even once you had him in the car to drive home, the sound only stopping when he’d finally fallen asleep about halfway home, making you and Law sigh in relief. He’d been asleep ever since, but still holding onto those bells, you were planning to hide them from him for a while just for your sanity’s sake.
You try to stay quiet, motioning for Law to do the same as you attempt to remove the bells from your little boy, gently opening his hands and only making the bells rattle as soon as you’ve freed them and set them on the coffee table. He starts to stir and fuss just a bit, but Law quickly hushes and calms Rosi down, it’s like he never even started waking at all. You love to watch Law with him, sometimes he’s the only one who can calm Rosi down and while it can frustrate you, it makes you happy to watch them bond.
“I think he had fun today.”
“Yeah,” Law scoffs while you sit beside him, rolling his eyes a little as well, “He sure had fun ringing those bells in my ears the whole time I held him.”
You laugh a bit as Law grumbles about the bells, shaking your head and stroking your baby boy’s hair while he continues to sleep. In the same way you love to watch Law with him, Law feels the same with the two of you. He was never really sure about having kids of his own, but when you came into his life, Law realized he wanted all of the family life stuff that he’d missed out on when he was younger, and he wanted all of it with you.
Holidays were always difficult for Law, after losing his family and then Cora-san, he never wanted to celebrate after all of that even when he met Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo, then the rest of his friend group. They’d all try but never could convince him to join in the festivities, he’d always reject the ideas they came up with and went along just to not be alone during the Christmas season.
Then Shachi brought you along one day when everyone was hanging out and you immediately attached yourself to Law, trying to drag him along for whatever holiday plans they had, because you hated the idea of anyone being alone during that time. Law still doesn’t know why, but he went along with you, kept doing so through the whole season even with the thought in his mind that after the holidays were over you’d disappear back into your shared job with Shachi, but the new year came and went, and you continued to hang around all of them, especially Law.  It led to you asking him out and his agreeing, which led even further to your marriage and now your son Rosi being in your lives, all in the matter of three years.
With this year being Rosi’s first Christmas, even though the eight-month-old doesn’t get it, Law hopes he’s enjoying himself, but he wishes his family and Cora-san were here for it. He knows his mother would be doing every to make this the best first Christmas for Rosi, his father would probably be telling stories about past Christmases, Lami would absolutely want to take her nephew to all the Christmas events around, and even Cora-san would be working to make this holiday the best for your son.
It's still hard for him, but you and Rosi are making things easier, better for Law.
“Law? Are you okay?”
You’re able to tell when Law starts to get lost in his head, in the thoughts of what’s missing, you try to bring him back to the here and now when it happens, so you don’t lose him to those worries and the pain that still lingers after so long. You’ve noticed that just having your son has helped with it too, it seems like Law gets lost to those thoughts much less often now.
But with the distant look he had before you said his name, you knew it was happening again, even when he shrugs and looks back to little Rosi starting to wake and rub his eyes with his little hands.
“…I just miss my family…”
“Oh, Law…”
“I wish they were here…”
“I know, my love.”
“All of them,” Law takes a shaky breath, forcing back whatever tears try to slip out, while you rest your hand on and stroke his cheek, listening to him, “My parents and Lami…and Cora-san…They would have loved you both…”
“I know they’re all so proud of you, Law,” you lean over and kiss his cheek, before taking Rosi from him as your son coos and giggles at you, “They’d be so happy to see that you’re happy, to know you and Rosi are well, and I’m sure they’d want you to be enjoying his first Christmas.”
Law knows you’re right, watching you start to talk to and smile at Rosi, making him smile in return. He’s told you everything about his family, you’ve been so understanding and loving ever since he first told you the story, sometimes he wonders how much you told your parents since they’re always so nice when you go to their house, but he also thinks it’s just because they actually like him. He doesn’t mind going to see them, more recently your mom wants to give all her attention to Rosi and your dad takes to trying to connect with Law more, he really enjoys it.
“Hey,” looking up at Law, you give him a smile when Rosi starts to reach for him, needs “Let’s go see your parents tomorrow, after we’ve opened gifts.”
“Yeah? You want to?”
Nodding, Law sets a hand on Rosi’s head before leaning over to kiss his forehead and do the same to you.
“Yeah. It’ll be good to spend the day with family.”
Nothing makes you happier at that moment than to hear that from Law, and you agree that it would be a good idea, so long as you can make Rosi leave the jingle bells at home. You’re not sure your parents would like to hear that sound all day.
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queenofapeacefuldawn · 2 days ago
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Spy × Family Chapter 108: An Analysis
So, after a two month wait, we finally got a new chapter! And we were SO well fed LMAO!!!
Anyway, as always, spoilers for Spy × Family Chapter 108 under the cut!
We start off the chapter with Melinda nervously explaining to Yor her reason for being "Lunaluna Selena" in disguise: it's a fun hobby!
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And, obviously, she's in disguise out of worry about the rumours that might spread if the former First Lady of Ostania dabbles in mysticism: as it might cause problems with her husband. (Though it is messed up that she has to hide her hobbies from her own husband, but we know how Donovan is).
In the middle of Melinda's monologue about why she loves this sort of thing, she drops a rather odd line:
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(First of all: DANDADAN reference anyone?) Kidding, kidding, it was probably just a throw-off line, but what we're really focusing on is: Melinda's emphases on the word "Telepathy".
Now, side note, I'm not sure if the emphasis was to draw our, the readers' attentions to the fact that Melinda believes in the concept of telepathy existing, or if Melinda herself is putting emphasis on the word "telepathy", implying she knows something about the project that Anya was made for.
It is a fascinating thing to put in, though: if one's talking about the things they believe in, then putting "telepathy" in the top three seems like an odd choice, especially if more general terms like "superpowers" or whatever exist.
It does seem very intentional on Endo-sensei's part to put in, especially since, as of now, we don't know how much Melinda knows about Donovan's current plans, or even about what he's done before.
It could be a reference to Anya's past, or some sort of red herring so the reveal of Anya's past can be more shocking. I'm not sure. Yet, I choose to believe that Melinda knows something about Anya's past--- something maybe she found out on accident? Which is why she's so terrified of Donovan?
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In essence, this chapter basically confirms that Melinda is suffering some sort of psychological abuse at the hands of Donovan, leading to her fear of him. What's more interesting is that Donovan is intentionally trying to drive a rift between Melinda and the boys. Possibly he's trying to isolate her by keeping them under his thumb, so that she doesn't try to "betray" him? Or maybe he's already threatened the lives of the boys in return for Melinda staying, all for the sake of keeping the "happy family man" image up to the public (though we know how messed up the family really is).
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These panels. They confirm that Melinda has thoughts about standing up for herself and Damian (and Demetrius too, I guess--- I think it's implied), but the sheer terror of what Donovan might do holds her back. Half a step forward, a whole leap back. She even says, "Fortune telling [a hobby that she loves dearly] doesn't matter either. What am I doing here?"
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So. yeah.
[NOTE: I skipped over the tarot reading part initially so that I could talk about Donovan and his abuse, and connect it to the first bit of the chapter. The tarot reading part comes now.
NOTE 2: All the information about the tarot cards comes from Google. I have no knowledge about tarot, so please take this with a grain of salt, and if I make any mistakes, please don't hesitate in correcting me :)]
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These are the cards we see initially.
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She says the card representing Anya's present is the Four of Cups. According to Google, it means:
The Four of Cups tend to appear when you are feeling discouraged and unmotivated. You may feel as if there is no solution or way forward in your situation. Life has become stagnant, and nothing seems to make you happy or passionate.
(Labyrinthos, Tarot Cards Meanings List)
Which is kind of true in reference to Anya's life as a student. A student's life is filled with studying (God knows I know it), something Anya is apathetic towards. It's also "Plan A" of Operation Strix: through studying, Anya becomes an Imperial Scholar and Twilight makes contact with Donovan Desmond.
Or, it could be an allusion to Melinda's situation: she's discouraged, and feels trapped in her marriage. Nothing makes her passionate anymore, because everything she experiences is tainted by her husband (see: the panel above where she says 'even fortune-telling doesn't matter).
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Melinda says that the Death card represents the factors around Anya. There's the obvious joke about "Oh the Grim Reaper's right next to you!" with Yor next to Anya, but the Death card shouldn't be taken literally.
The Death card signals that one major phase in your life is ending, and a new one is going to start. You just need to close one door, so the new one will open. The past needs to be placed behind you, so you can focus your energy on what is ahead of you.
(Labyrinthos, Tarot Cards Meanings List)
This is a reference to Anya's previous life as a test subject, and orphan; and how she's left that past behind and been allowed to actually be a child, and how she's finally being loved as she deserves. How her circumstances, the factors around her are changing. It could also pertain to her physical growth, or maybe it was just there for the joke about Yor being the Grim Reaper (which is still pretty ominous. Who is Yor going to have to kill?)
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And, finally, the Star in reverse.
When the Star card is reversed, it means that you are feeling as though everything has turned against you. The challenges that you would normally see as exciting seem instead to make you feel as though you cannot overcome them. You have lost faith in something, whether inside yourself or with something you normally find dear.  Without hope, without faith, we cannot find the motivation to progress forward in the challenges that we face. Where in your life are you feeling hopeless? In what ways do you already feel defeated? And how does that affect your actions? The star reversed asks us to nurture our sense of hope and positive energy to help propel our actions with joy instead of fear.
(Labyrinthos, Tarot Cards Meanings List)
Since this represents Anya's future... it doesn't look to good. It feels intentionally grey and murky, with no clear answer as to what's going to happen in Anya's future, but it still seems pretty bleak.
Overall, these readings don't seem to point to a future that seems too good for Anya.
I am very afraid what's going to happen to her (and to find out what's going to happen to her), but I guess we'll just have to wait and see.
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We still don't know what exactly Anya means by "This feeling... I think I've felt it before...", especially when it's related to Melinda's fear of returning home and to Donovan. Again, it makes me very nervous for her backstory.
Anya and Yor return to where the rest of the gang is, and---
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why is he like this.
After Twilight spends the whole day socializing with the other parents, "pumping them for information", Emile talks about how nice it must be to have a nice mom, which leads to this interaction:
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This has a striking similarity to the chapter where Anya confesses about her mind-reading powers to Damian: the reassurance back then that Damian loves his dad, and now, the reassurance that Melinda loves him. Parallels about who he loves and idolizes, and now who loves him.
And, it's also so heartwarming that she specifically takes off her mask: showing her, perhaps, most true self to him, especially due to the fact that she comes from a family of actors, constantly putting on masks.
Speaking of masks... we can see a bit of [REDACTED] bleed through the mask of Loid, and Twilight.
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It's the same, pensive expression that we see him wear in Episode 35 (Chapter 56), except it's more... tired. More weary. Less affectionate.
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(The panel from Chapter 56)
We see a man imagining What Could Have Been, if the trajectory of his life hadn't changed so drastically: especially at a festival much like the one he's currently at.
We see a man tired of war.
We also see it in Episode 3 (Chapter 3)
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This is when he's seeing young boys playing, and thinking of himself and his own friends.
Anya doesn't read his mind, but she does read his expression-
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And so, the family man mask comes on, but not quite as properly as he'd like.
We can still see [REDACTED] shine through.
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It's the same smile he gives Yor and Anya when Nightfall comes over, the smile with, which Fiona notes, "a tiny hint of real emotion seeping out from beneath it".
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We jump to some time later, with Director Gorey asking Loid if he's willing to take on a VIP patient who presents a "challenging" case, which is followed by the inevitable reveal that the patient is Melinda.
I think this implies that Melinda has tried seeing psychiatrists before, but none of them worked out for her, or none of them could figure out what was wrong with her (hence the "challenging").
It's also revealed that Yor suggested Melinda sees Loid, which is greatly boosting his mission.
Gorey says that he suspects she's suffering from an intense case of Persecution Complex, so I searched that up.
People with a persecution complex suffer from the feeling that other people are trying to harm them.
(Cambridge Dictionary)
Given Gorey's diagnosis, I'm wondering if he's implying that Melinda is untrustworthy (which also implies that Melinda might have spoken of her fear of her husband--- perhaps in a roundabout way, which also led to her being classified as "challenging".) Though, for this, we'll need to wait and see next chapter.
FINAL THOUGHTS: I really loved this chapter! It definitely was worth the two month wait (and, I hope Endo-sensei is better, I think he took the break because of poor health). I'm excited for the next chapter! Tell me what your thoughts are!
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