#genres defined and explained

[hislittleraincloud]

🕸️🕯️HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YOU DRUG-ADDLED MADMAN!🕯️🕸️

Without you, we wouldn't have Nevermore or our Raven Wednesday as she is. We would have had to rely on a culture without your poems and stories, and I can't imagine growing up in a world without masterpieces like Annabel Lee or The Telltale Heart. I would have not have won my 6th grade horror story writing contest that creeped everyone out without your influence, and I thank the gods for my introduction to your work three years prior. I would not have snatched up lovely 1890s copies of your poems for the love of my life, since she too had been obsessed with your work from an early age. (An 1892 Thomas Crowell and an 1895 Henry Altemus, according to my ancient eBay receipt.)

And now I must hijack your birthday to bemoan something inextricably tied to you and your work. (But alas, it has done it in just a superficial manner so far.)

Your presence as the basis for Wednesday's setting is why the show is Gothic Horror, not Horror. The complex emotions explored in the whole of the series sets it apart from the fear-evoking terror and violence of straight-on horror, which is perhaps why I am dismayed by the young actress's comments about nudging the show towards horror, since horror deals in terrifying the audience rather than taking them on an even more damaging tour of the various terrible emotions that make us question human morality.

Allow me to quote an L.A. Times critic who reviewed The Following, a show revolving around a Poe expert and a Poe-guided serial killer and his cult:

When we’re meant to observe the creepy gothic horror of [Poe's] stories, it’s the sense of inevitability or fate that gives the reader a frisson, not the gore: someone is buried alive, or dissolves in a moment.

This needs to be explained, considering the news that the show's S2 will 'lean more into horror'. Allow me to defer to Daniel Blackwood's excellent breakdown of the genre (picking out the features here, but all should watch the video for deeper insights):

Emotional Turmoil: "Antagonists are often personifcations of the protagonists' misdeeds or endured tragedies re-emerging as the physical or the metaphysical manifestation of emotional turmoil. In defeating or by sometimes being consumed by these presences ultimately concludes the inner and outer dilemmas of the characters."

That is literally this:

Though no one really talks about this, Sheriff Galpin is a background protagonist (he is in every episode) antihero, because he lacked the courage to face the truth because he loved his son and feared that his suspicions. He is, actually, a main character, and without him, the story loses the greater tragedy that is Tyler Galpin.

Mystery & Suspense: "The genre is pervaded by a threatening atmosphere, usually unseen and felt on an instinctual level. Protagonists may apply logic and rationale to otherwise supernatural happenings or vice versa. This is enhanced by the emotional turmoil suffered by protagonists, which makes for truly engrossing tales as the reader or viewer, much like the protagonist, attempts to make sense of the things around them. "

Again, literally**:

There's just something wrong about this place. And not just because it's a school. ~ Wednesday, Ep 1

Also, Sheriff Galpin knew something at the very beginning, and Wednesday pinpointed that in the second episode (in the previous episode, he and Santiago chat about the murders and how they were to be perceived as bear attacks). Noble also makes mention of bear attacks as well. **I edited this, because I had originally meant to use Wednesday's intuition as the example for Mystery & Suspense.

Ancient Prophecies: "Often connected to the very geography of the story, for example a castle or a forest, prophecies are usually unwittingly brought into fruition by the protagonist's actions or lack thereof. Prophecies are mostly obscure partial or deliberately confusing."

Once again, directly*:

My dear Wednesday, you are the key. Your arrival at Nevermore set the chubby wheels of my plan in motion. ~ Laurel Gates, a.k.a. Thornhill, Ep 8

Metonymy: "Metonomy is a subtype of metaphor, in which something like rainfall or lightning is used to communicate something else such as a mood, for example a thunderstorm being used to communicate impending dread, or using rainfall to denote sorrow. It's used so commonly in the genre that it's now a major staple, and you'd be hard pressed to find a gothic novel that does not use this to some degree."

Wednesday is checking all of these boxes, isn't it:

At least it's turning into a beautiful day. ~ Morticia Addams, Ep 1

Inexplicable Events: "Often supernatural in nature, events such as a knight's helmet falling on a character without logical reasoning or a glass being held at the protagonist by an unseen presence are extremely commonplace in the genre. In some ways these events are explained logically, and in others are indeed supernatural."

Xavier saved Wednesday from being crushed by the gargoyle, which 'inexplicably' fell (but at the end of the ep is revealed as Rowan's work). There are other examples of this throughout the season, like when Wednesday was attempting to summon Goody and the candles were blown out.

Mortality: "The Victorian Era was rife with an obsession with death, so much so that historians have dubbed this era and its people The Cult of Death; with this in mind, it stands to reason why many of the genre's works possess a morbid fascination with human mortality. Many of the genre's works attempt to romanticize the passing of human life while others simply lay bare its effects on those still living."

That is probably the most glaringly obvious and fitting characteristic of our main protagonist's core personality. Wednesday is death-obsessed. She sleeps like that because of it (and we love her for it). Honorable mention is her nap in the morgue.

Human Nature: "Many gothic novels and short stories aim to display the underlying sinister motivations of human nature. They depict the deep desires and passions that lie beneath the façade of socially engineered morality. This is usually done through the use of metaphors."

(No words needed for that one. However, Gates's half-baked actions could also be a metaphor for Wednesday's, which is only part of the reason why "Thornhill" tells Wednesday that they're a lot alike.)

დ

There is zero question that Wednesday (and Burton's other light-hearted work, if we're being honest) is a Gothic Horror Comedy.

It was never meant to be overtly scary or bloody/gory, and Edgar's works more than inspired the show's plotline and its very existence (as thin and clumsy as it was with its handling of the 'mystery'). I shall be bereft if it is cheapened because of a misunderstanding or deliberate dismissal of genres, though we are all hoping that it turns out well and that the change of tone doesn't weigh its comedy roots down (the hope is tenuous, given the near abandonment of satire...Pilgrim World's existence might be the first season's saving grace on that front).

TLDR; Gothic Horror (with emotions and relationships explored within an Old World 'horror' setting, its themes revolving around the complexity of human nature) is not *Horror* (aims to evoke fear in its audience, with terror being its main objective), Wednesday is Gothic Horror, Happy 215th Birthday Mr. Poe 🐦‍⬛🎂🎉

[buggachat]

"augh, this [media] sucks. it's all about shipping"

romance is a genre, harold

[vaguely-concerned]

Origins is of course the DA game most closely in conversation with and playing around with Tolkien (right down to the walking talking poetree haha) -- and even more so than most works in the larger western fantasy tradition derived from Tolkien's work that DA:O also hails from and owes a lot of its Stuff to, what makes the game so great to me is that it's doing so very deliberately, and is subverting and deconstructing those tropes and entrenched ideas in some very interesting ways without at all denigrating what it's commenting on. (it doesn't have the almost disdainful undertones of the vein of fantasy that seeks to make the world more 'realistic' ala the more tedious reactions to G.R.R.Martin's work, for example, despite having the darker fantasy bent to it.) among other elements it adopts, what I find the most fascinating is the choice to use the same literary device/conceit Tolkien did in ostensibly only having in-universe biased sources and works to deliver the world through (which I feel is an underappreciated thing about his approach but is part of what makes his world so enduringly compelling and real-feeling -- the feeling of real scholarship devoted/applied to a made-up world. the grounding effect of a good diegetic footnote about source criticism, truly).

many things to be said there, and I'm glad each following game has taken on different perspectives and lenses and traditions to view the world of Thedas through because if you stick with that one too closely for too long I fear we could teeter precariously close to Pratchett's famous and bitingly accurate accusation of most modern fantasy of that era just being about rearranging the furniture in Tolkien's attic lol. and while you could accuse DA2 (my perfect wife who has never done anything wrong in her life to be clear) of many things, that's not one of them, they are pulling on some completely different strings for that one and both the game and DA overall is better for it, to my mind. as so many things in this series: worth staying with and exploring for an installment even if it might get stale if all of it was like this! people are understandably sad about the elements from previous games that they liked which were lost along the way, but that capacity for reinvention is to my mind a huge strength of dragon age as a whole.

(I think Veilguard is coming in as a close second in Tolkien conversation-ness if only in outlining/revealing the worldbuilding that indeed may have been planned since DA:O around the animosity that SHOULD by all rights exist between dwarves and elves in this universe (as per Tolkienesque tradition standards). but doesn't really because you see: politics and the many pitfalls of conservation of knowledge over the ages. our ancestral enmity got semi-intentionally lost between the floorboards of history and you know what. maybe for the best. the humans are already up to so much shit you gotta keep your eyes on them at all times you can't be brawling with each other in the deep roads while they're still around getting up to their nonsense or they'll just pile up even more of it)

[daemonhxckergrrl]

getting through the Most Relevant Backstory snippet (Abridged version), ready to now answer the question that the bare minimum context is set up and they've already made a general polite comment in response and moved topic.

[sparklingchim]

game on 02 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.9k

genre: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: 18+

warnings: lots of smoochies !! 🤭, their first kiss <3, umm mentions of jk's infamous threesome again 😔, koo talks abt taking girls in missionary what can i say he is a man

summary: jungkook and you practice acting for the cameras. kissing him feels more right than you anticipated.

a/n: yayy chapter 2 is here!!!! <3 writing this was truly saur much fun n i hope u have fun reading too !!! 😋

read chappie one here

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"Just kiss me."

"Hold on a second."

"We really need to practise this."

"I know, just give me a minute."

You scoot away from Jungkook on the couch. You were sitting so close, almost about to kiss him actually, but his intense, doe-eyed gaze made you pause, needing a grounding breath.

You’ve never been this close to his face, and somehow, you can’t seem to cross the invisible line that keeps you from just pressing your mouth on his. Jungkook’s your friend, after all. You’ve known him since he was five and once saw him get his head stuck at school, so of course it’s weird.

You press your lips together in an attempt to focus, and lean in again, but once your eyes meet his, a smile urges on your mouth.

"Oh my god." Jungkook’s frustrated sigh cuts the air. "This can’t already be doomed to failure because of a simple kiss."

"It’s not! I just need to mentally prepare myself."

"I feel...offended? Kinda?" Jungkook weaves his fingers through his hair. "I’ve never had to convince someone to kiss me."

"It’s not you. I promise!" you say, reaching for his knee. "Under any other circumstance, if we weren’t friends, I’d love to kiss you. You’re hot and cute, but the situation we’re in makes me feel so stupid. It’s absurd."

Jungkook cringes when you call him cute and removes your hand off his knee.

Yesterday, when Jungkook showed up unannounced, it took him full ten minutes to convince you he wasn’t pulling a prank on you.

Who would believe their friend begging you to fake date them? It’s ridiculous. Only happens in the fictional world.

But then Jungkook showed you the pap picture that was circulating online. The comments and gossip were nasty and you knew he was caught up in a deep mess.

In the photo, Jungkook was surrounded by two girls, his arms draped casually around their waists as they stumbled out of the club, a half-full drink lazily held in his hand. His hair was a tousled mess, likely from the girls running their fingers through it, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a small peek into his defined chest. It was bold, provocative — definitely not the ideal image of a responsible twenty-year-old football rookie.

Probably the worst pap pic you’ve seen of him so far. And the worst timing too.

"You were wasted," you commented, staring at the article he was showing you on his phone.

"And I had so much fun last night." His voice was tinged with frustration, like a child whose favourite toy had just been snatched away. "But then I woke up to this picture, and a flood of missed calls and texts." He rubbed his hands over his face, exhaling sharply. "They just had to ruin it for me."

Noticing your raised eyebrow, Jungkook quickly backtracked. "No, I know it’s my fault too. I shouldn’t have done this right before the World Cup, especially after what I promised. I just hate how everything turns into such a big deal, just because... well, just because I’m me."

The idea of fake dating Jungkook had seemed absurd, something out of a rom-com rather than real life. But the more he explained the pressure he was under, the more you understood why he needed this.

Jungkook was your best friend, and if kissing him in public could save his career, why not help him?

While you got ready for meeting his manager, stepping out of your comfy, rotting-at-home clothes, which consisted of little shorts and an oversized t-shirt (you think it’s actually Jungkook’s, but you’re not quite sure since it’s been in your closet for years now), and slipping into a casual, more presentable outfit, Jungkook busied himself fixing your laundry machine.

Jungkook’s manager knows you well – his entire team does. You are known as Jungkook’s close friend and had been spotted with him on multiple occasions.

Taesung greeted you warmly, though surprise flickered across his face when Jungkook introduced you as the solution to the fake dating plan.

You felt Taesung’s gaze assessing you, weighing your suitability for the role. Jungkook’s PR agent mirrored his scepticism, tilting her head in doubt. They exchanged uncertain glances, which made you nervous, but Jungkook was determined. Jungkook wasn’t Jungkook if he didn’t get what he wanted. With a few persuasive words and his usual charm, he quickly won Taesung over, who sighed and leaned back in his chair, conceding defeat.

"We need to establish the narrative from the start," Taesung said seriously. "The media will dig into your background, and they’ll want to know if there’s anyone else in the picture. So, to be clear, you’re officially single. No boyfriend, no complicated past relationships that could surface. We don’t need any messy stories."

You assured them that there was none. Multiple times. No angry exes, no secret relationships – your personal life was as drama-free as it could get.

Taesung slid a document across the desk.

"This ensures that whatever happens, no details of this arrangement-"

Jungkook’s hand shot out, halting the paper. "No," he said firmly. "She doesn’t need to sign anything."

"Jungkook, it’s just a formality," Jiwoo began, but Jungkook insisted.

"I trust ___. She’s not just anybody. She’s my best friend. If she says she won’t talk, she won’t talk. The NDA isn’t necessary."

"It’s okay," you assured him gently.

Jungkook shook his head. "No, this is ridiculous. You’re not signing a stupid contract."

After more arguing, his manager eventually relented.

Jiwoo outlined the plan in more detail with Taesung – public appearances, social media posts, carefully orchestrated moments that would sell the story to the public. You felt a bit intimidated by the pressure, but you’d get used to it. After all, this arrangement is only for a few months – just until his management can announce that you’d mutually decided to break up on good terms.

But you both need to practise before stepping in front of the cameras.

Which leads you to this moment, a day later, sitting on your couch trying to practice how to act like a couple. And it’s not going well at all.

"Okay, let’s start from the basics then," Jungkook suggests. He rises to his feet, offering you his hand. "Hold my hand."

You gingerly accept his hand, standing up as well.

"See, don’t we look cute?" Jungkook drags you to the mirror. "Or maybe – let’s intertwine our fingers. I think that would look better." He holds your interlaced hands up between the two of you, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. "So cute, right?"

A giggle bubbles in your throat. "You act like you’ve never had a girlfriend."

"Well, it has been a while," he admits, the slightest sulk on his lips. "I’m too busy for relationships." He swings your hands. "The only times I ever hold a girl’s hand is in missionary, above their head when-"

"Jungkook," you interrupt quickly before he can delve any deeper into the story. You give him a mock glare, but there’s no hiding the amusement dancing in your eyes. "Didn’t we both agree on only talking about your bed stories after I’ve had at least one bottle of soju – preferably two, so I can mentally brace myself?"

You love him, you really do, but you don’t want to hear about his bed stories, unless you’re the slightest bit tipsy at first.

"Oh, yeah." He shakes his head apologetically. "Forgot about that."

"Wait, maybe that’s what we should do!" you exclaim as an idea pops into your mind. Your hand slips out of his, and you take a step toward the kitchen. "I think there are a few bottles of soju in the fridge."

"We’re not getting drunk to build up the courage to kiss," he insists. "We shouldn’t need alcohol to pretend we’re into each other."

Jungkook pulls you closer to him, and you stumble slightly, but his hand instinctively moves to the small of your back, steadying you.

"Fine," you sigh dramatically, hand on his chest. "Was just an idea to make this easier for us." The fabric of his shirt is extremely soft and your fingers glide over it.

"I mean, it’s not like we’re complete strangers. And they know it too. We’ve been through enough to pull this off without breaking a sweat."

He’s is right. The public knows you’re one of Jungkook’s closest friends. It wouldn’t be totally unbelievable that you two might have fallen in love.

After all, you’ve always been comfortable with each other —hugging, cuddling during movie nights, play-fight over silly things just to annoy each other. You’ve shared quiet moments, like when you’d fall asleep on his shoulder after a long day or when he’d run his fingers through your hair absentmindedly while you talked. There were times when Jungkook was exhausted and crashed at your place, your fingers gently scratching his head as he slept peacefully. You’ve kissed each other’s cheeks in thanks without hesitation.

Jungkook’s touch isn’t foreign to you.

And still, the thought of acting like you’re in love when you’re not feels strange. Sure, you’ve always been physically close, but this was different. This time, every gesture would be for an audience, every touch would carry a different meaning. It wasn’t just casual anymore.

"I guess," you reply, fiddling with the hem of his oversized t-shirt, avoiding his gaze for a moment. "I think it’s just weird to be this close for show."

Jungkook watches you for a moment, his eyes softening as he considers your words. "Yeah," he murmurs. "But it’s not like we’re faking the friendship part. The rest...we’ll figure out." His fingers clasp your hip, the pads of his fingers gently digging into your flesh. "Don’t think about it too much," he says. "When we have our first public appearance as a couple, pretend like the cameras aren’t there, act nonchalant. Just... y’know. You and me."

You pout, an involuntarily frustrated grumble leaving your lips as you drop your forehead on his chest.

"I hope I’ll do well under all the attention."

You’ve dealt with your fair share of noisy people trying to pry into your relationship with Jungkook, but so far, it’s been somewhat manageable.

"Just you and me," Jungkook repeats, his tone softer and more assured this time. "Nothing can happen to you when I’m there."

You glance up at him, taking in the gentle lines of his face.

"Maybe you should’ve hired a girl that can deal well with attention," you voice your thoughts.

"No." Jungkook’s immediate response rolls off harshly on his tongue. "You were my first thought. I wouldn’t have done this with anyone else but you."

"I was your first choice?" Giddiness makes your face shine.

"Yeah. I don’t think I would’ve felt comfortable with anyone but you."

"Be honest, you just really wanna kiss me."

You stand on your tippy toes, a silly smile spreading across your face.

Jungkook cocks his head to the side, a teasing glint buried in his eyes.

"I think you do."

With a surge of confidence, you take a small step closer, your heart beating a little faster as you close the gap between you and Jungkook. Your lips meet in a gentle, fleeting touch. The contact only lasts for a moment before you pull back, your eyes searching his for a reaction.

"That was a smooch. Not a kiss."

You frown upon hearing him complain.

"What, you want to make out with me in public?"

Jungkook sniffs a laugh. "No, but maybe a little more than how fifth graders kiss."

"You’re a kissing expert now?" you quip back, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jungkook leans in slightly. "I just know what I like."

The challenge in his voice sparks something in you. "Then show me how you like it."

His gaze drops to your lips, and a flutter of excitement spreads in your tummy. It’s unexpected and thrilling and it catches you off guard.

Jungkook’s hand, which had been resting on your back, slowly glides up, his fingers curling around the side of your face, his thumb brushing delicately against your cheekbone.

Your breath hitches as he leans in. His lips meet yours again, but this time there’s more weight behind the contact – still soft, but deeper, more intentional. His lips move slowly and there’s a warmth to it, a tenderness that makes your heart race even as the kiss remains gentle. He tilts his head slightly, deepening the connection just enough to make you melt into him.

The teasing atmosphere lingers in the back of your mind, but for now, it’s pushed aside by the gentle pressure of his lips on yours.

Kissing Jungkook doesn’t feel weird – which makes it a little weird.

When you both finally pull back, it’s gradual. You can feel his breath, warm and steady, mingling with your own.

"Like that," he whispers, his voice barely audible, yet it sends a shiver down your spine. "You’re a good kisser."

You pull back completely. "Excuse me?" you say. "You were doubting my kissing abilities?"

"No, not at all!" Jungkook shakes his head, amusement crinkling his eyes as he gazes at your sulky face. "You’re just a very good kisser. Like, super gentle and smooth."

Heat crawls up your cheeks. You ignore the flush of warmth and keep your composure. "Have you been using the lip balm I got you? Your lips are soft."

"I know, right? Not chapped at all anymore."

He traces two fingers along his bottom lip and your eyes follow the motion, finding yourself inexplicably drawn to his lips.

"Are we done practising?"

"Do you think we looked natural?" Jungkook’s hand slips into yours once more. While he is focused on the mirror, adjusting the way your bodies fit together – tugging you closer, alternating between holding your hand and interlacing your fingers – your mind is still replaying the memory of the tender press of his lips. "For me, it felt pretty natural. Not awkward at all. What do you think?"

It’s the simplicity with which he says it that draws a short laugh out of you.

The sound grabs his attention. "What?"

"You’re just...extremely serious about this. I don’t think they’ll analyse the way we hold hands, Kook."

"But that’s their favourite thing to do," Jungkook replies. "The gossip mills love analysing every step you take, where your eyes wander, who you smile at." A note of bitterness threads through his words.

He’s been playing pro for just two years and has fallen victim to greedy people intruding on his life so many times already. Former friends who leaked private conversations, acquaintances who turned their brief interactions into tabloid fodder, even strangers who felt entitled to a piece of him just because he was in the public eye.

Jungkook searched for solace and silence at your place many times, trying to escape the madness. In the quiet of your dorm, breathing felt easier.

You never asked questions, never pried. In a world where everyone seemed out to get something from him, you just let him be, offering him the comfort of your presence without demanding anything in return.

"People were just criticising this dude – ah, who was it again?" Jungkook stares at the ceiling, raking through his thoughts. "I can’t remember his name, but this guy was getting called out for choosing the booth seat while making his girlfriend sit in the aisle seat."

"The aisle seat? Come on, it’s an unwritten rule that-" You fall silent once you catch Jungkook’s pointed expression. "I mean, yeah. It’s definitely wrong to make a big deal about it. Maybe she prefers sitting there," you shrug.

"But do you see what I mean?" he asks. "Whether you intend to or not, you’re always judging what others do. And that judgement only intensifies when it involves a celebrity."

"Ah, when did you become so famous Jeon Jungkook?" You sigh, looking down at your linked hands.

"I know, right? Two years ago, no one would’ve cared if I had a threesome." He shakes his head in disbelief. "And now I am being punished for it—kicked off the national team, and my best friend has to save me by fake dating me."

"I feel like this would make a good movie," you giggle.

“We have to practise hard, then," he says.

You pull your phone from your pocket. "What if we film ourselves kissing so we can monitor it better?" You set up your phone on a nearby shelf and position yourselves in front of the camera. "Don’t engaged couples do this? I feel like we’re practising for our wedding kiss."

"Oh, butterflies."

"Huh?" You stare at the way he holds his hand against his tummy.

"You just told me you want to marry me. That gave me butterflies."

You slap his arm. "Stop being silly, we have a whole nation to fool that we’re in love."

~

Hang outs with Jungkook often end with the two of you lounging on the couch, snacks scattered everywhere, and a movie playing on the TV.

"Next one?" Jungkook asks from his spot beside you, inching closer with his pleading doe eyes.

You try to push him away by the, but he doesn’t budge.

"I need to study. Like, for real." You had warned him before starting the movie, agreeing to watch only one, but he still tried his luck.

He holds up one finger. "Just one."

You push him off your body, and this time he allows it, his back slumping against the couch. The grumble of complaint in his throat gets muffled by his pursed lips.

"You’re smart. The material is probably set in your brain anyway. No need to revise anything."

You scoff at his bratty words.

"So you won’t ever need to ditch hangouts for football practice because you’re already so good at it?"

"Well, no." He drags the word out, brows furrowed as he considers your question, trying to come up with a reasonable answer. "But I know you don’t need to study as much as you do. You’re just naturally smart."

"I wish, but I ace my exams because I study as much as I do."

"Aish," Jungkook mutters, standing up from the couch and stretching his limbs. His toned tummy peeks out from under his lifted shirt.

"Karina will be home soon anyway," you say. "And I’m not ready to play pretend in front of her yet." The thought of confessing to your roommate that Jungkook is now your boyfriend makes you shudder.

It was one of the conditions that made you briefly reconsider if you could really pull this off or if Jungkook should find another girl. You didn’t just have to act in front of the cameras – everyone had to believe that you and Jungkook are a couple, including your friends and family. You dread the day you have to tell your parents.

You know they once secretly hoped Jungkook would become your boyfriend when you were older, but as he became famous and the public started scrutinising his every move, your parents grew wary of his wild, reckless side.

You follow Jungkook to the door.

"You think she’ll believe us?"

"I dunno," you shrug. "Not sure if she’ll buy it. She’ll probably be suspicious since I’ve never talked about you in that way when we gossip, but I think we’ve practised enough to at least make it look like we love each other."

Jungkook nods and hugs you briefly. "We’ll figure it out." He steps out of your apartment, typing on his phone. "My manager sent me details about our first public appearance." He scans the text, but quickly looks up at you again with an annoyed frown. "Ah, so many words. I’ll just forward you the messages." With a sweet smile and a quick wave, he starts to leave, but you tug at the back of his shirt.

You cup his face, pulling him down to you, and plant a kiss on his lips.

"You’re my boyfriend now. Act like it."

[little-jana]

"Unspoken Understanding"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: reader is deaf, insecurities, minor talk of work discrimination, use of y/n

Words: 1.6k

Summary: Spencer learns something new about the the reader and his reaction is not what you expected.

Request: @lucreziaq2001 - Hope you like it 🧡

It had been a long case in Seattle — one that left everyone on edge and emotionally drained. But at least now it was over, and the team had decided to decompress together before heading to the airport. The cozy restaurant Derek picked was warm and lively, with the smell of freshly baked bread and the low hum of conversation filling the air. You were sitting next to Spencer in the booth, his shoulder just brushing yours, as the team unwound around you.

Over the past few months, you and Spencer had grown close. It had started with quiet conversations in the bullpen, him recommending books and you teasing him about his endless trivia. Gradually, coffee dates turned into real dates, and now there was something unspoken between the two of you — a tender connection neither of you had defined yet but that you both knew was there.

You watched him now, the way his hands gestured as he explained something to Emily and JJ about probability theory. His passion always made you smile. But your focus was broken by the vibration of your phone on the table.

You glanced down at the screen, your expression shifting when you saw the name. It was someone from home — someone you couldn’t ignore.

“Sorry,” you murmured, leaning toward Spencer briefly. “I have to take this. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Of course,” he said, his eyes soft as he watched you leave.

You slipped outside, the cool evening air hitting your face as you found a quiet corner near the entrance. With practiced ease, you answered the call and began signing. The conversation flowed smoothly, your hands moving quickly and gracefully to convey your thoughts. It was a short call — less than five minutes — but when you hung up, you sighed softly, glancing up at the stars to clear your mind before heading back inside.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer had seen the entire exchange. He’d excused himself to grab a glass of water, and through the large front windows of the restaurant, he’d caught sight of you outside. At first, he’d just smiled, watching you pace as you spoke. But then his expression shifted when he realized you weren’t speaking. You were signing.

He stopped in his tracks, his mind racing as he watched you. The grace and fluidity of your movements were unmistakable. You were fluent.

Pieces of the puzzle began falling into place. The slight delays in your responses during conversations. The way you always angled yourself to face whoever was speaking. The way your gaze lingered on people’s lips.

Spencer’s breath caught. You were deaf.

It wasn’t something you’d ever mentioned — not in the months you’d worked together, not on any of your dates. And now, watching you, he realized why. You’d hidden it. But why? His chest tightened as he thought of all the possible reasons.

When you came back inside and slid into the booth beside him, you gave him a small smile.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice warm and gentle.

“Yeah,” you said, brushing it off. “Just a quick call.”

He nodded, but his mind was still swirling with questions. He didn’t ask any of them, though, not yet. Instead, he silently vowed to approach this with care.

---

A few days later, Spencer he spoke to you at work.

“Hey,” he said uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Hey,” you replied, curious about the look on his face.

“I was wondering,” he began, “if you’d like to grab coffee this weekend. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

Your stomach tightened at this. “Sure,” you said, trying to sound casual. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing bad,” he said quickly, as if sensing your nerves. “I promise.”

“Okay,” you said, relaxing slightly. “Saturday work?”

“Perfect,” he said.

When Saturday arrived, you found yourself feeling inexplicably anxious. Spencer had never made you feel anything less than safe, but the way he’d spoken had left you wondering if something had shifted.

The café he chose seemed quiet and cozy, with large windows that let in the morning light. He was already there when you arrived, sitting at a corner table with a cup of tea in front of him. He stood when he saw you, smiling warmly.

“Hey,” he said, pulling out your chair for you.

“Hey,” you replied, sitting down and setting your bag on the floor.

For a while, you made small talk, discussing books and work and everything in between. But you could tell he was working up to something, his hands fidgeting slightly with his cup. Finally, he took a deep breath.

“I saw you the other night,” he said.

You blinked, confused. “Saw me?”

“At the restaurant,” he clarified. “When you were on your call outside.”

Your stomach dropped.

“I saw you signing,” he said gently.

You froze, your hands tightening around your cup.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re deaf,” he said, not as a question but as a statement of understanding.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I am. Since I was a kid.”

He didn’t say anything, and you rushed to fill the silence, your words tumbling out in a rush.

“I didn’t tell anyone at work because I didn’t want it to affect how people saw me,” you said. “I can read lips, and my hearing aids help enough that most people don’t notice. But I’ve seen how some people treat disabilities, and I didn’t want anyone to think I couldn’t do my job. I just... I didn’t want to take that risk.”

Spencer reached out, covering your hand with his. The simple gesture made you pause, your breath hitching.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice steady. “You don’t have to explain. And you don’t have to hide this. Not from me. Not from anyone.”

Tears prickled at your eyes, and you quickly blinked them away.

“You don’t think it’s a liability?” you asked, your voice small.

He shook his head firmly. “No. If anything, it makes me admire you even more. You’ve been doing one of the hardest jobs in the world, and you’ve done it so well that none of us even realized. That’s... incredible.”

Your chest ached with relief and gratitude, and for the first time, you felt like you could breathe.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

---

A week later, Spencer appeared at your desk, looking unusually nervous.

“Hey,” he said, rocking slightly on his heels. “Can I show you something?”

“Of course,” you said, tilting your head curiously.

He took a deep breath, then lifted his hands.

“Hello," he signed, his movements a little stiff but unmistakable. "How are you?"

Your eyes widened, and your heart leapt into your throat.

“You’re learning ASL?” you asked, your voice filled with disbelief.

He nodded, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I’ve been practicing,” he admitted. “I wanted to be able to talk to you in a way that’s comfortable for you.”

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. The gesture was so thoughtful, so kind, that it left you completely overwhelmed.

“Spence,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply. “Because I care about you.”

The words hung in the air between you, and all you could do was smile, your heart so full it felt like it might burst.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion.

He smiled back, his hand brushing against yours in a quiet promise. And in that moment, you knew you didn’t have to hide anymore — not from him, not from anyone.

Because Spencer Reid had seen you, truly seen you, and he cared.

[katexplains]

Kat explains: Genres!

[Toon x Mobster]

Genre is a category defined by:

The art style / medium of art

The genre of written works / films / media / etc.

The aesthetic / vibe

-of places and people that exist in the world of TxM. Some can get cross-bred and form mixed-Genres.

While the genres are unique, they all coexist in the same world, each with its own aesthetics and rules that everyone must abide by.

--

[List of Genres:]

Note: This will be updated every time a new genre is introduced.

The Toons

The Grims

--

Public links to visualizations of the Genre tree!

Go view it either in Canva or Miro!

All TxM info are subject to future changes the as worldbuilding/story/character develops.

[doritochoi]

Teacher's Pet | C.S

pairing: fem!reader x teacher!choi san

genre: pure smut, 18+, mdni ( because its always my fav)

warnings: san is in his late 20s, reader is 21 years old, public sex, unprotected sex, big!dick san, teacher x student relationship.

Every day when you left the school building, you would see your art teacher, Mr. Choi. He was sitting in the schoolyard with the other teachers, smoking a cigarette. Even if you weren't a smoker, this sight was inexplicably appealing. You noticed how the pronounced veins on his hand gripped the cigarette with undeniable elegance. It was a small detail that fascinated you every time. You didn't know exactly what attracted you so much to Mr. Choi. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, always with an air of mystery and distinction. Or maybe it was the passion he put into teaching art, inspiring you, to explore your own artistic talents. Despite the fact that you couldn't explain exactly why you were attracted to Mr. Choi, your obsession with him grew day by day. You knew everything about him, from the car he drove—a sleek black Bentley that gleamed in the sunlight—to his daily habits. Indeed, your obsession with Mr. Choi could not be explained only by the external details you observed about him. It was something deeper than that. You are seeing him not only as a teacher, but also as a protective and inspirational figure in your life. In his every gesture and every look you felt safe around him, like he was an anchor in a sea of ​​uncertainty. Being a strong and wise mentor, you wanted to learn more from him and feel protected in his presence.

It was Wednesday, 7 PM. You always waited in the hallway to see your favorite teacher. You even knew when he arrived. You waited until you heard footsteps approaching, knowing it was him because his footsteps had a distinct sound you recognized. You see him climbing the stairs, and hurriedly you enter the classroom. You sat impatiently in the chair, looking towards the door and waiting for Mr. Choi. Finally, the door opens, and he appears in the doorway, exuding an air of safety and elegance. His black jacket matched his hair perfectly, and the slightly unbuttoned shirt revealed a bit of his well-defined chest. His hair framed his face impeccably, and each strand seemed to be carefully placed to highlight the fine features of his face. But the most captivating were his eyes. They were a warm, rich shade like melted caramel. In the sunlight, his eyes were shining in a charming mixture of gold and brown. His gaze, penetrating and mysterious, had the power to hypnotize you. Your eyes traveled further down, noticing his slightly transparent shirt and loosened tie. His slim waist was always a temptation for you. You wanted to feel the texture of his skin under your fingers, notice how it felt to hug that waist that seemed to be ripped from a work of art. Those pants, which sat perfectly on him, accentuating his well-defined figure, were hard to ignore. You couldn't help but turn your gaze to them, noticing how they molded perfectly to his legs and highlighted every movement of his graceful body. With every step he took, the pants seemed to draw your attention more and more, and you couldn't help but want him to get closer, to notice every detail of that charming appearance.

He sat down in the chair and you assumed he was sitting with his legs spread, imagining you could sit on his thighs and move lightly on them. This thought made you feel a little excited rubbing your thighs together. After that, he announced that the next mark would be given for a drawing that would impress him. You didn't hesitate and took out a sheet, starting to draw immediately. In less than ten minutes, you've created a perfect drawing of Mr. Choi in all his glory. His position was exactly the same as sitting on the chair, and every detail of his expression and posture was captured precisely. Mr. Choi sats up elegantly from his chair, and the subtle scent of his perfume wafted throughout the classroom, captivating your senses. With quick and sure steps, he began to walk through the students, finally stopping behind you. He bent down a little, put his hand on your shoulder, and you flinched a little from the movement he made. He looks at your drawing, smirks, then brings his lips to your ear whispering in a husky voice. "Can you meet me after class?", he said so softly that only you could heard. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You didn't even know what to answer, so you turned your gaze towards him, now staring at his features and nodded.

The hour passed extremely quickly and you have to go home, but you remembered your teacher's words. Before going to his office, you went to the bathroom. You unbuttoned 2 buttons on your shirt and lifted your skirt a little so that your red panties could be seen. You honestly didn't know what was in your head to do something like that, but you couldn't resist anymore. Seeing him so many times with that innocent face, pretending he doesn't notice you, it annoys the hell out of you. After you got your things, you headed to his office. You stopped in front of the big wooden door. That door made you to feel different things, especially since you know very well who is inside. You took a deep breath, put your hand on the doorknob and opened the door. As soon as you opened the door, you started to feel an intoxicating scent of vanilla that was present in the whole room.He was there, sitting on the chair and looking at the laptop. He looked at you from time to time, enjoying every part of your body. "I knew you would come", he closed the laptop making you startle a little. He got up from his chair now seeing how he looked. His shirt was almost undone, and his pants looked wrinkled, you didn't know what or who brought him to that stage, but he looked different. He was getting towards you, and you ended up hitting your back against the wall. You couldn't look at him, so you started lowering your head, looking at the ground. "Look at me, miss," he moved so close to your face that you could feel his breath. You didn't do what he was saying, you continued to look down, annoying him. He wasn't happy with what you were doing so he took your hands and stuck them to the wall above your head forcing you to look into his eyes. "Don't avoid the situation", he started to put his hand on your waist and then lower reaching your panties. He looks at them, then keeps playing with the material. "We both know what you want, and you know well that I can offer you everything you want", this time you could feel his breath on your neck, until you felt something wet. He kissed you in a unic style making you feel things. Mr Choi grins a little, watching how he can dominate your body and see what things he can do to you. "Tell me pretty girl, what is your on your mind?", his voice was so low that only you could hear it. His hands began to roam your body, undoing the buttons on your shirt, now remaining with only the bra visible. "Please, fuck me" ,these were your last words, not thinking twice about what you were going to do.

He picked you up in his arms, you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he took you to the front of his desk, making you sit with your ass on it. His hands started going everywhere, from your firm breasts to your panties. He undid your bra, and a hand massaged your left breast, kissing you passionately. You let out a moan, making him even more excited than before, rubbing his cock against your leg as well. "Bend over ", you didn't even stop to think, because you got off his desk, and you bent over showing him an amazing view. He got down on his knees, tore your skirt, now showing only the red panties you chose for him. "Fuck, I can't wait to taste you", he starts running his hands on your inner thighs, then approaching with his lips, applying small kisses. "Stop teasing, please" , You knew he was the type of person who likes to tease, especially you. He always did this and he likes it a lot. With a determined hand, he starts and removes your panties, looking with such a charming look as if it was all he wanted. He licked his lips, started to come closer and without saying anything, his tongue was already doing its job. Mr. Choi’s tongue moved with deliberate precision, exploring every sensitive spot with a teasing slowness that drove you mad. Each flick and swirl sent waves of pleasure through your body, making you arch your back and press against his mouth. The room filled with your moans, the sound echoing off the walls, blending with the intoxicating scent of vanilla that still lingered in the air. He pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your wetness as he spoke, "Tell me how it feels, pretty girl. I want to hear every detail." You could barely form thoughts, but you managed to gasp out, "It feels amazing... please, don't stop." A smirk played on his lips as he continued his sensual assault, his tongue now circling your clit with agonizing slowness before giving it a gentle suck. Your hands gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white as you fought to stay grounded under the intense pleasure. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he slid two fingers inside you, curling them in a way that made stars explode behind your closed eyelids. "You're so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "I can feel how much you want this." , "Yes, Mr. Choi... I want you so badly," you panted, your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more. He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. "Patience, pretty girl. I want to savor every moment of this." He continued to work you with his fingers, each thrust and curl perfectly timed to keep you on the edge. His thumb found your clit, rubbing it in slow, torturous circles that had you teetering on the brink of climax. But just as you were about to tip over, he stopped, pulling his hand away and leaving you panting and needy. You let out a frustrated whimper, looking down at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Why did you stop?" He stood up, his body towering over you as he undid his belt, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops making your heart race. "Because I want you to beg for it, pretty girl. I want to hear you say exactly what you want." Your eyes locked onto his, filled with desperate desire. "Please, Mr. Choi. I want you inside me. I need to feel you." He slowly lowered his pants and boxers, his hard cock springing free. He stroked it a few times, letting you see just how much he wanted you too. "Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "Yes," you breathed, your eyes locked on his impressive length. "I want you to fuck me. Please."

With a satisfied smirk, he positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock against your wet folds, teasing you just a bit more. "You’re so eager, aren’t you? Such a good girl, asking so nicely." You could only nod, your breath hitching as he slowly began to push inside you. The sensation of him stretching you, filling you completely, was almost too much to bear. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, needing to feel every inch of him. He started with slow, deliberate thrusts, each one hitting just the right spot inside you. "You feel so good," he murmured, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "So tight and wet." Your nails dug into his back as you clung to him, your body trembling with pleasure. "Faster, please," you begged, needing him to take you harder. He didn’t need to be told twice. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more powerful, more urgent. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure. You could feel the pressure building inside you, the familiar coil of your impending orgasm tightening with each thrust. "Oh, Mr. Choi," you cried out, your head thrown back in ecstasy. "I'm so close.", "Come for me, pretty girl," he urged, his voice rough and demanding. "I want to feel you come around my cock." That was all it took. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your walls clenching around him as you screamed his name. He continued to thrust into you, riding out your climax, pushing you to heights of pleasure you’d never known before. As you came down from your high, he slowed his pace, giving you a moment to catch your breath. But he wasn’t done with you yet. He pulled out and flipped you over, bending you over the desk. The cold wood against your heated skin was a stark contrast that made you shiver. He entered you again, this time from behind, his thrusts deep and relentless. One hand gripped your hip while the other reached around to play with your clit, adding to the overwhelming sensations. "Do you like this, pretty girl?" he asked, his voice strained with his own pleasure. "Do you like being fucked like this?", "Yes," you moaned, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I love it. Don't stop." He didn’t. He kept up the punishing pace, driving you both closer to the edge. You could feel another orgasm building, this one even more intense than the last. "I’m going to come again," you warned, your body trembling with anticipation. "Come for me, pretty girl," he commanded, his voice a growl. "Come all over my cock." With a final, powerful thrust, you did. Your orgasm ripped through you, more intense than anything you’d ever felt. He followed soon after, his own release spilling into you with a guttural moan. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sound your heavy breathing and the pounding of your heart. He stayed inside you for a moment longer, savoring the feeling, before finally pulling out and collapsing onto the desk beside you. You both lay there, spent and satisfied, basking in the afterglow. "That was incredible," you whispered, your voice hoarse from screaming. He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You were incredible, pretty girl."

[tbaluver]

hi ree! i love your account so much and i always get so happy when i see your posts on my feed. would you be interested in writing headcanons of the lads boys with a s/o who is self conscious about her stretch marks? no worries if that isn’t your cup of tea!

When You're Self Conscious About Stretch Marks- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: comfort a/n: hi anonnie! i'm soso happy to hear that it makes me so happy when i see you guys in my inbox ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ don't worry this was def my cup of tea ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ i hope this was okay and you enjoy! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He would be genuinely confused because you're perfect to him and can't understand how you would find stretch marks to be something bad about yourself. He's a sucker for your stretch marks so he'll try to remind you every time that they're beautiful.

He loves the bumps and grooves on the back of your comfy thighs. He loves trailing his hands across your stretch marks when you're cuddling or when he's laying down on your lap.

He'll lift up your shirts and kiss any stretch marks that travel up to your tummy and he'll look and give you a warm smile if his kisses tickle your soft skin.

"These are a part of you and they all tell a story. I love every part of you including this." He says softly, pressing a gentle kiss on one of your stretch marks. "And this" He continues to kiss every stretchmark on your body, his touch showing you how much he cherishes each one.

Zayne:

He's a doctor and he's seen almost how every body looks and operates so he'll know that stretch marks are completely normal. He just didn't understand why you would care so much about something so small about stretch marks because they were natural for anyone growing. However he does know that this upsets you so he'll be understanding and sympathetic when you tell him about this.

"Stretch marks are just part of the skin and nothing more. They don't define who you are or how I see you. I don't see you differently if you had them or not."

Anytime you guys were intimate, he'd like tracing against them with his cool fingers and will mindlessly rub circles on your striped skin. It'll tickle you sometimes and a smile would twitch on his lips seeing the reaction out of you so he'll continue doing that. He'll keep continuing to run his hands across your body that had any of your marks to make you smile and laugh.

Rafayel:

He's very considerate towards any of your insecurities and makes it his mission for you to feel confident about it. He'll find ways to subtly compliment your stretch marks without directly calling attention to it.

Sometimes he'll take candid pictures of you to show you how beautiful you are in his eyes. He highlights your stretch marks throughout his pictures and paints them in a beautiful light.

"Look cutie, you're stretch marks are just like brushstrokes on a canvas- unique and beautiful in their own way."

He just adores you so much. He just thinks you're the most beautiful person to walk in his life or this planet and he just hates how you feel bad yourself in any way.

Sylus:

His brows would furrow when you explain how much you despised your stretch marks on your body. "Come here," He'd pull you closer to him, "I want you to know that I cherish every part and inch of you, including these." He'd place his large hands on where your stretch marks are and rubbed them lightly and lovingly.

He would tease you on it later though, "There is no reason to be ashamed of your stretch marks. It could just mean your finally growing to my height."

Would later show you exactly how much he cherishes your body by worshipping every inch and he'll make sure he doesn't miss a spot

[thedensworld]

My Woman | K.Mg

Pairing: Ceo!Mingyu x Directors!Reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship

Summary: Everyone in the building hate your leadership and start to think that you were only able to secure the position because of your husband, the CEO.

Been letting this one sitting in my folder for 6 months??? Anyway, enjoy!🧚‍♀️

Since you were appointed as the new director of Tasty Kim, a food label under Kim Group, the atmosphere in the company has been anything but welcoming. The former director, despite being demoted for money laundering from company production costs, was beloved for his friendly and tolerant nature. The staff had grown accustomed to his easy-going management style.

In contrast, you introduced a series of new regulations focused on discipline and time management. Your strict approach to auditing has caused considerable stress among the staff, who are struggling to keep up with your demands.

"I want the file on my desk tomorrow at 10," you demanded, your voice leaving no room for negotiation.

When it wasn't there, your frustration was palpable. "Why isn't it on my desk?" you asked sharply.

"You had 8 hours of work yesterday; what were you doing?" Your tone conveyed the gravity of their oversight.

"This isn't the first time, and I won't tolerate this kind of negligence. I'll be reporting you to the HR team. You can explain yourself to them."

The tension in the office is undeniable, and it's clear that your expectations are clashing with the staff's previous work culture. But to transform Tasty Kim into a more efficient and successful entity, you believe these changes are necessary, even if they are met with resistance initially.

And that's how people started to think you were only able to manage the position because of your husband, Kim Mingyu, the current CEO of Kim Group. Rumors began to circulate, whispering that your authority stemmed more from nepotism than merit. The staff's skepticism grew, casting a shadow over every decision you made. Yet, you remained resolute, determined to prove that your leadership was defined by your capabilities, not your connections.

Your professionalism was proven when you delivered your protest to none other than your own husband, Kim Mingyu, the current CEO of Kim Group. He had ordered every label under Kim Group to push revenue expectations while cutting costs. A heated debate ensued shortly thereafter. You explained to the board that cutting costs for Tasty Kim would only result in a decrease in quality.

No one knew how hard you worked for the company. Everyone just thought you were the queen of the Kim Group, a mere decoration to fill the space, a director without any competence to lead the company.

One day, you opened your email to find hundreds of hate messages, likely sent by disgruntled workers. Sometimes, packages would be delivered to you, containing nasty items that you knew were from your employees. Did you report this to HR? No, you chose to ignore everything, focusing solely on the company's needs.

But there was one person who always treated you like a human in this company. Mr. Song, the security guard, always greeted you with a warm smile, just as he had done for the past 15 years, when you still worked for Mingyu's father as his secretary till now. He might be the only person who truly knew who you were and how hard you worked for this company. Other workers had zero idea that you had been with the company since your twenties.

Mr. Song's small acts of kindness were a beacon of hope in an otherwise hostile environment. His understanding and quiet support reminded you that someone appreciated your dedication. Despite the loneliness and the endless challenges, those brief moments with Mr. Song gave you the strength to persevere.

You're not just Kim Mingyu's wife.

"You're not sleeping?" Mingyu asked, his voice soft as he entered your home office.

You turned your head to him, closing the file on your desk as you watched him approach. "Are they sleeping?" you asked, referring to your 5-year-old twin sons. He nodded.

"Still have work to do? Need help?" Mingyu offered, and you shook your head.

"I'm done. Just checking a few things," you said with a tired smile.

Mingyu sat on the couch near your desk. "Seungcheol hyung said he was visiting," he told you, and you hummed in acknowledgment.

"No, I actually called him to come," you informed him, and Mingyu chuckled.

"Just like I guessed. Is something wrong with the company? The last time I checked, Tasty Kim has been the most stable since you took over."

You rubbed your face, a gesture that concerned Mingyu. "I just need a few pieces of advice. I think I'm a cold woman."

Mingyu didn't deny it outright. "You are," he said carefully.

Your brow raised in surprise. "Really?" A pang of disappointment colored your face, and Mingyu immediately shook his head.

"No, I mean, sometimes you are. But you're a warm lover and mother."

Lover and mother. Those words echoed in your mind.

"Maybe it's been too long since I focused so intensely on the company," you murmured, a hint of doubt creeping into your voice.

"Why?" Mingyu asked, curiosity in his eyes, not fully understanding what you were referring to.

"Let's go to sleep," you told him, standing from your seat and reaching for his hand.

He took it, squeezing gently. "Alright, let's get some rest. We'll figure everything out together."

As you walked out of your home office, you felt a small measure of comfort in his words. Even amid the challenges and doubts, you knew you weren't alone.

*

Mingyu's disbelief turned to anger as he examined the photos of the gruesome package and the disturbing emails that Chan, your secretary, had detailed. His jaw tightened with fury as he realized the extent of the harassment you had endured since taking on the role at Tasty Kim.

"What is this?" Mingyu demanded, his voice laced with frustration as he glanced at Hansol for confirmation.

Hansol nodded grimly, showing him the evidence again. "These were sent to her office. It's been ongoing for months," he explained, his own expression reflecting the seriousness of the situation.

Mingyu's mind raced as he tried to piece together the implications. "Is this related to what you discussed with Seungcheol?" he wondered, his concern for your safety evident in his widened eyes.

He wasted no time in contacting Seungcheol, demanding an explanation. Seungcheol sighed heavily as he recounted the events that had unfolded over the past months.

"It's clear this is coming from Mr. Park's circle," Seungcheol explained wearily. "They've been spreading malicious rumors about her and now escalating to these actions. I've urged her to take action to track them down before it escalates further."

Mingyu's anger simmered as he absorbed the gravity of the situation. "We need to act swiftly," he declared, his voice firm and determined. "I want those responsible identified and dealt with immediately. This ends now."

Mingyu's mind raced back to the day he had to make the tough decision to fire Mr. Park. His audit team had uncovered illegal activities involving company funds, actions that nearly drove the label to bankruptcy. If not for your diligent efforts in handling the crisis at Tasty Kim—your first company role ever—Mingyu knew the outcome could have been devastating.

It had been six challenging months since you formally took the helm, but the results were undeniable. Under your leadership, Tasty Kim's performance had significantly improved. Your dedication and strategic decisions had turned the tide, restoring stability and fostering growth within the company.

As Mingyu reflected on the recent incidents targeting you, his resolve strengthened. He couldn't allow the malicious actions of Mr. Park's associates to undermine all the progress you had achieved.

Mingyu instructed Hansol to work closely with Chan to expedite the search for the culprits behind the malicious acts. His tone was resolute as he outlined the urgency of identifying and addressing the threats targeting you and Tasty Kim.

"We need to move swiftly on this. I want regular updates on the progress."

Hansol nodded in understanding, his expression mirroring Mingyu's seriousness. "Understood, sir. We'll start immediately," he assured, turning to leave the office with purpose.

Mingyu tucked the twins into bed as he always did, Han mentioned something unexpected. "Mom was crying, I saw her crying in her office," Han whispered softly, his eyes wide with concern.

Hoon quickly covered Han's mouth and leaned in close. "Mom said not to tell Dad," he whispered urgently.

Mingyu's heart clenched at the revelation. He hadn't expected to hear this, and the thought of you in tears weighed heavily on his mind. He finished tucking the boys in, trying to keep his expression calm despite the turmoil inside.

After tucking the twins in and assuring them everything was alright, Mingyu quietly made his way. As he entered your room, he found you slumped over your desk, fast asleep amidst scattered reports and documents. Mingyu's heart sank at the sight of your exhaustion, etched deeply in the lines of your face. Gently, he gathered the papers into a neat pile and carefully lifted you into his arms.

You stirred slightly as he carried you to the bedroom, your head resting against his shoulder. Mingyu laid you down on the bed, pulling the blankets over you with tender care. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his heart aching with the desire to protect you from any further distress.

The next morning, Hansol hurriedly informed Mingyu that Chan had located the culprits and had them gathered in the conference room. Mingyu's expression hardened with determination upon hearing the news.

"Keep them there. I'm on my way," Mingyu replied briskly, his voice tinged with controlled anger.

He swiftly made his way to your company, each step echoing his urgency to address the situation. Mingyu entered the conference room where Hansol and Chan stood solemnly by the door, waiting for his arrival. Inside, the culprits sat uncomfortably, their uneasy glances exchanging silent admissions of guilt.

Mingyu entered with a commanding presence, his gaze sweeping over the group with intensity. His jaw was set, a silent testament to his resolve to confront those responsible for causing distress to you and disrupting the company's harmony.

"You've caused significant harm to this company," Mingyu began, his voice steady but stern. "Your actions have not only targeted my wife unfairly but have also undermined the trust and morale of our team at Tasty Kim."

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle in the room. The culprits shifted uncomfortably under Mingyu's piercing gaze, realizing the gravity of their actions and the consequences they now faced.

"I want each of you to explain yourselves," Mingyu continued, his tone unwavering. "Justify why you thought it acceptable to engage in such disgraceful behavior."

One by one, they offered fragmented explanations, some stumbling over their words while others struggled to meet Mingyu's unwavering gaze. He listened intently, his disappointment palpable as their excuses fell short of justification.

"This ends now," Mingyu declared firmly, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Effective immediately, you are terminated from Tasty Kim."

The culprits exchanged nervous glances, realizing the severity of their fate. Mingyu turned to Hansol and Chan with a nod, silently instructing them to escort the individuals out of the room and off the premises.

Mingyu turned as he heard the distinctive click of your heels approaching. He straightened, a mixture of surprise and admiration crossing his features as you walked toward him with purpose. You bowed politely, a gesture of respect that momentarily caught him off guard.

"What brings you to this company without notice?" you asked, your tone calm yet curious, as you stood before him with unwavering composure.

Mingyu's gaze softened as he looked at you, struck by your strength and determination even in the face of recent challenges. "I needed to ensure everything was handled," he replied, his voice filled with a mix of concern and gratitude. "And to support you."

You stood before Mingyu, your expression serious yet composed. The click of your heels echoed faintly in the hallway as you spoke, addressing him directly but respectfully.

"I appreciate your swift action in handling the situation," you began, your voice steady. "However, these individuals are my team members. I understand the severity of their actions, but I believe termination may not be the only solution."

Mingyu regarded you thoughtfully, sensing the underlying tension in your words. "They have caused significant harm," he replied, his tone firm yet open to discussion. "Their actions were detrimental to both you and the company."

You nodded, acknowledging the seriousness of the situation. "I agree that their behavior cannot be condoned," you continued, choosing your words carefully. "But I believe there may be alternative measures we can consider—perhaps disciplinary actions or retraining."

Mingyu's frustration was palpable as he listened to your response. He had expected solidarity in his decision, given the severity of the situation. Yet, your stance on considering alternatives to termination seemed to undermine the gravity of the offenses committed against you and the company.

"Your compassion is commendable, but these actions cannot go unpunished," Mingyu stated firmly, his voice tinged with disappointment. "They crossed a line that jeopardized everything we've worked for."

You met his gaze evenly, understanding the weight of his words but steadfast in your belief. "I agree that consequences are necessary," you countered, your tone measured. "But I believe in second chances and rehabilitation, especially when it comes to our team members."

Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "This isn't just about rehabilitation," he argued, his voice slightly raised with emotion. "It's about setting a precedent. We cannot allow such behavior to repeat itself."

You maintained your composure, sensing his frustration but staying firm in your conviction. "I understand your concerns," you replied calmly. "But I believe we can address this while still upholding our values of fairness and redemption."

Silence hung in the air for a moment as Mingyu processed your words. Finally, he nodded reluctantly. "Fine," he conceded, though his expression remained stern. "But I expect strict monitoring and zero tolerance moving forward."

You nodded in agreement, relieved that he had accepted your approach, albeit reluctantly.

After the tense discussion in the hallway, Mingyu expressed his desire to speak with you privately. Without hesitation, you nodded and gestured for him to follow you to your office. The click of your heels echoed softly in the corridor as you led him through the bustling office environment.

Once inside your office, you closed the door behind you, creating a brief moment of privacy amidst the hectic day. Mingyu stood near the window, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression a mix of frustration and concern.

Mingyu's demeanor softened when he stare at your eyes. His shoulders relaxed, and a flicker of relief crossed his face as he turned towards you. Without a word, he closed the distance between you, his arms enveloping you in a comforting embrace.

Surprised but touched by his gesture, you leaned into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his presence and the reassurance it brought. Mingyu held you close, his touch conveying both support and gratitude for your partnership in navigating the challenges they faced together.

In that moment of shared understanding and solidarity, the tension that had lingered between you dissolved. Mingyu's embrace was a silent affirmation of trust and unity, a reminder that despite any disagreements, you were a team united in purpose.

Mingyu's concern was evident in his expression as he spoke softly, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "Why didn't you tell me about what was happening?" he asked gently, his eyes searching yours for an explanation.

You met his gaze evenly, appreciating his genuine concern. "I wanted to handle it," you replied honestly, your voice steady. "I didn't want to burden you with the details, especially when you have so much on your plate already."

Mingyu nodded slowly, understanding your perspective but still feeling a pang of regret. "You're not a burden," he assured you earnestly. "We're partners, and I want to support you through everything."

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of his words and the comfort they offered. "I know," you replied sincerely. "But I thought I could handle it on my own."

Mingyu gently touched your arm, his touch reassuring. "We're stronger together," he reminded you gently. "Next time, please don't hesitate to share."

You nodded, grateful for his understanding and support. "I promise," you replied, a small smile touching your lips. "I won't keep things from you again."

With Mingyu's hand still on your arm, you both shared a moment of quiet understanding and solidarity.

*

A year later, Tasty Kim celebrated its 35th anniversary with grandeur and nostalgia. Mingyu stood proudly on stage, addressing the gathered crowd with a mix of reverence and pride. Behind him hung a large portrait of his late father, the founder of Tasty Kim, symbolizing the legacy that had brought them to this milestone.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Mingyu began, his voice carrying a tone of deep respect. "Today marks a significant milestone for Tasty Kim. Thirty-five years ago, my father founded this company with a vision of excellence and innovation in the culinary world."

He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping over the audience before settling on you, seated among the distinguished guests. A warm smile graced his lips as he continued, "I stand here today not only as the CEO of Kim Group but also as a son honoring his father's legacy."

Mingyu's voice filled with emotion as he acknowledged your pivotal role in their journey. "I would be remiss not to mention the woman who has been my colleague, my business partner, and the mother of my children," he said, his words carrying a depth of gratitude and admiration. "She has been my rock, guiding Tasty Kim with wisdom and grace."

The audience applauded warmly, recognizing your significant contribution to the company's success. Mingyu continued, his voice unwavering with pride, "Together, we have faced challenges and celebrated triumphs. Today, we honor not just the past but also the future we continue to build together."

As Mingyu concluded his speech, he stepped down from the podium and walked over to where you were seated. With a gentle smile, he took your hand in his, a silent gesture of appreciation and unity that spoke volumes about the partnership and love that had shaped their journey at Tasty Kim.

*

"Mr. Kim, we need to report this to the HR team," you insisted firmly.

Mr. Kim raised his hand to stop you. "No, Ms. Ji," he said calmly. "It's alright."

"I took this as feedback from my workers," he continued, his tone resolute.

Confusion etched on your face, you met his gaze. "What? This is crossing the line, Mr. Kim," you countered.

He shook his head, his expression serious. "They must have had a reason to do this. I'm glad that the people I work with didn't stay silent when something went wrong."

"Find them for me," Mr. Kim instructed firmly, his voice carrying a blend of authority and understanding. "Let me have a talk with whoever did this."

Later, you discovered it was a new security member who had incidentally seen his payments reduced due to new regulations on security members whenever items went missing from their secured areas.

"His name is Mr. Song. He has been here for five months,"

[shuenkio]

𝗔 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱 | 💨 정원 ｡𖦹°‧

Paring: Jungwon X M!reader

Synopsis: Helping Jungwon who's too embarrassed to deal with his own problem.

Genre: Smut very. | Cw: heavy smau.

Non proof read | English is not my 1st

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

After a long day of practicing, you were left alone with only the leader while the others had already finished their schedule. It was both quiet and also lonely at the time since whenever all the members are together, it's chaotic like husky puppies. However it is fine.

Leaning against the wall, facing your front in the mirror, while gulping down water for dehydration. Everything seems normal until you glance over to see Jungwon who's at the corner, feeling something's off. You can't help but to ask him is everything ok, like you usually have but all you got was him shrugged as if he was fine when deep down he's not.

Apparently, after Jungwon finished his practice he was the first to take a rest before M/n when he casually pull out his phone and scroll through. Not until he scrolls by the heated posts and stuff that makes him can't take his eyes off and just let his mind sink in to the point he can't back down, and now his pants tighten, kinda hard to the state it was painful. Yet he didn't dare to tell M/n about it, it would be embarrassed to even say this personal problem.

Curiosity killed the cat, you furrow your brows, and began dragging your feet toward Jungwon. Peeking your neck to see what's so interesting that he can't pull his eyes off, even when he responded to you. But Jungwon is also not soft either, he won't let you see what's on his phone tho, which makes it harder to figure what makes Jungwon acting like this all of sudden, this is so childish of him.

"Come on, Hyung. I promise I won't scream or cry what's so good on that phone you're staring at right now. I know you're hiding something, if you won't let me just say honestly, I don't care what it was!!" Both are tough, one wanted to know while the other is too embarrassed to say. Jungwon didn't know what to do either, avoiding your snatch is just exhausted, he knows damn well that if you can't get something, you'll get it. So he let out a deep sigh, accepted his defeat before telling the truth.

"okay fine! I stumbled on this... Pay gorn, and ashhh I'm so hard right now ok? This is not good" Jungwon replied, shove his phone to your face, while his cheeks spread out a red tomato blush. Clearly he's too shy for this conversation.

"uhh oh I meant wait what pay gorn— oh wait OH WAIT oh" you realized, puzzle the words together when the missing pieces complete. This is the first time you have seen this side of him, or not? Jungwon is still a man by the end of the day, not to mention. He was kinda attracted to even men having things together ? Explained enough.

When Jungwon spit that he was hard, your eyes rolling over to see his sweatpants without yourself realizing. The sweatpants also can't defend him either, the defined bulge appears sharply on it, you almost thought he didn't have a boxer underneath since it so sculpture you get it.

Such a kind member of you, you offer him a helping hand. Acting like it was normal for you to deal with these types of problems meanwhile Jungwon is more than surprised when those words come out of your mouth.

"um... You're what?"

////

Jungwon started to undo his belt, his fingers fumbling with the buckle in his agitation. He yanked it off, tossing it shyly to the floor before tugging his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. His 6 inches cock sprang free, hard and aching, the swollen head already leaking with pre-cum.

"you sure you can do this M/n? You don't have to... I'm not forcing—AHH" Jungwon groaned as he felt your soft lips parting around the head of his cock, your mouth opening wide and eager like a baby seeking a pacifier.

You pressed the tip of his cock against your lips, demanding entrance. He tightened his grip on your hair without him knowing himself, holding your head still as he thrust his hips forward, pushing more of his thick length into the wet heat of your mouth. He could feel your tongue fluttering against his shaft, could feel the way your throat convulsed around him as you instinctively tried to suck.

Jungwon wanted to back off yet he couldn't do anything, never in his lifetime had endure such pleasure of someone, especially you blow him off too good like this. Jungwon thinks he could faint at any moment soon because of this mind breaking sensations.

"Fuck, just like that...," Jungwon grunted, his voice strained with pleasure. He started to move faster, fucking into your mouth with rough, shallow thrusts. Spit and pre-cum leaked out from the corners of your mouth, drooling down on your chin and onto your shirt. The sight was filthy, absolutely disgusting, and Jungwon started to love every second of it. Damn.

Who'd stop anyway? Not you right? As you carry on, if you had the chance to help your best leader now, why not giving your all.

He could feel his orgasm building, his cock throbbing and pulsing in your throat. But he held back, not ready for this to be over.

"don't hold back hyung- just let go whenever you feel it" Jungwon was lost to the sensation, drowning in the slick heat of your mouth, in the desperate way you were sucking him. He never knows how you can be this experience, he needs to ask you after this for real.

"I'm gonna fucking cum, M/n shit— too much TOO MUCH," he roared, his voice echoing off the walls of their practice room. With a final, brutal thrust, Jungwon buried himself to the hilt in your throat and let go. His cock jerked and spasmed as he shot rope after rope of thick, hot cum directly down your gullet. He held your head in place, forcing you to take every last drop as he rode out the intense waves of his release.

"Fuck, FUCK!" Jungwon screamed, his body convulsing with the force of his orgasm. Jungwon collapsed back and leaned onto the wall, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His cock slipped out of your mouth with a wet pop, a strand of cum and saliva connecting the swollen head to your lips before breaking and splattering onto the floor. He could see your throat working as you swallowed, gulping down every drop of his release like you were starving for it.

"you might want to eat a lil more hmm salty foods because *click tongue* it's not salty enough but still good"

"you're so bad... M/n I don't know how the hell you're this freaky —"

An: well um hey... Hi? This is kinda nasty but I held back, anyway I'm posting jw fic because the last update of him was in October 🥲 so yeah, it's kinda boom. Any thoughts?

Also Advance happy Chinese and Korean lunar new year 🐍

[mawidixon]

Saying "I missed you" won't express how I was dying inside

Daryl x fem!pregnant!reader

One-shot

Genre: Angst, fluff at the end

Warnings: Twd violence, swearing, pregnancy stuff,

Setting: Season 7 - Hilltop

Summary: After Daryl was taken by the Saviors, your life became much more difficult. However, you had a little reminder of him growing inside your womb.

A/N: This is my first one-shot. I did my best, but I'm not sure what to think about it. I hope you like it! Have a nice day! Sorry for any mistakes if there are any.

@mawi22 I don't want my work to be modified, copied, or any of this kind of stuff without my consent!!!

Your situation was rather of the ‘surprise’ kind of pregnancy that most women would not have been expecting to happen to them any time soon. At first, you could only feel the element of fear as you tried to think of how Daryl would respond to this new development that you never saw coming. It was troubling in your heart, for you understood well that he had his qualms about having a baby at this stage in life. There lies the grey area of a personal experience of a man who could not escape the dark memories of his childhood to become a responsible father and provider; the fear of making the same mistakes and reproducing the same patterns that define bad parenting. The commitment that a child would bring was too heavy for him to bear at this time in his life as he saw it as a mountain he would have to climb. This was the feeling you had when you were carrying this secret within you, a feeling of conflict within the self, torn between protecting him from the truth and the truth within your senses and conscience. However, with time, the silence became unbearable and you got to a stage that one could not continue suppressing the truth anymore regardless the fact that it created a feeling of awkwardness. The desire of getting closer and creating a fair partnership could not remain unanswered anymore, so it is, you had to face this sensitive concern with bravery and openness.

As time went by, Daryl's feelings for the unborn child grew stronger. Despite his initial fears, the anxiety that had plagued him over the past few months began to fade. He had always been cautious, but now, a new kind of tenderness emerged. When you were cuddling on the couch, he would often place his rough, calloused hand on your belly, rubbing it gently as if he could already feel the connection to his child. Daryl's efforts to prepare for the baby were evident. Every time he came back from a run, his backpack would be filled with baby clothes, toys, and little trinkets he thought might be useful. His eyes would light up with a mix of pride and excitement as he showed you his finds, his voice tinged with a rare softness as he explained why he chose each item.

One night, you pretended to be asleep, curious about the whispers coming from his side of the bed. You peeked through half-closed eyes to see Daryl leaning close to your belly, his lips barely an inch away from your skin. He was talking to the baby, his voice low and gentle, filled with promises and dreams for the future. It was a side of him you rarely saw, vulnerable and hopeful, and it made your heart swell with love. However, Daryl's protectiveness sometimes bordered on overbearing. He couldn't stand to see you doing any kind of unnecessary work. Whether it was lifting a box or bending down to pick something up, he would swoop in, insisting that you rest and let him handle it. At times, it was endearing, but often it left you feeling frustrated. You appreciated his concern, but you also craved a bit of independence.

"Darlin', you shouldn't be doing that," he'd say, gently taking a task out of your hands. You'd sigh, sometimes rolling your eyes, but deep down, you knew it came from a place of love and fear of losing you both. Despite the occasional annoyance, you found comfort in his unwavering dedication. Daryl had faced so many dangers in his life, but none seemed to shake him as much as the prospect of fatherhood. And in his own way, he was already proving to be a devoted and loving partner, ready to protect and cherish his growing family.

...

That was until Negan and his people took Daryl. The day everything changed, you were at the Hilltop, just weeks away from your due date. The anticipation of meeting your baby was mingled with the joy of Daryl’s newfound tenderness and protectiveness. It was supposed to be a time of hope and new beginnings. You were resting in one of the rooms when the commotion outside caught your attention. Peeking through the window, you saw a group of people rushing towards the main gate. Your heart sank as you recognized Sasha and Maggie, both with tears streaming down their faces. You hurried out, your swollen belly making every step a little more difficult.

Sasha spotted you immediately and ran over, her face a mix of grief and urgency. "Daryl… they took Daryl, and killed Abraham and Glenn." she said, her voice breaking. For a moment, her words didn’t register. The world seemed to tilt, and you had to steady yourself against a nearby wall.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and before you knew it, you were crying uncontrollably. Your sobs echoed through the courtyard, a raw expression of the fear and despair gripping your heart. Everything had been perfect, or as perfect as it could be in this world. You were about to start a family with the man you loved, and now… now, he was gone. Each moment that passed without Daryl felt like an eternity. The fear that he might be dead gnawed at you, a constant, unbearable weight. You clutched your belly, feeling the baby move inside you, a bittersweet reminder of the life you had hoped to share with Daryl.

The Hilltop community tried to offer support, but nothing could quell the storm of emotions inside you. The world that had seemed so promising just a few hours ago now felt dark and uncertain. All you could do was cling to the hope that the love of your life was still out there, fighting to come back to you and the child he had already come to love so deeply.

It was another day without Daryl. Each morning, you woke with a glimmer of hope that he might somehow return, only to be crushed by the reality that he was still out there, somewhere, in the clutches of the Saviors.

As you sat in the room you once shared with him, your eyes wandered to the baby items scattered around, each one a testament to Daryl's growing excitement about becoming a father. Tiny clothes, soft blankets, and the little toys he had brought back from his runs—each piece carried a memory of happier times. You remembered the day you and Daryl decided to keep the baby’s gender a surprise. It had been a moment filled with laughter and love, a rare lightness in your often perilous lives. He had said about teaching the baby to hunt and fix motorcycles. The memory brought a bittersweet smile to your face, followed quickly by a pang of sorrow. Now, with Daryl gone and no certainty of his fate, the need to know the baby’s gender became overwhelming. It felt like a way to hold onto him, to make the waiting a little more bearable. Perhaps knowing would bring some comfort, some sense of connection to him amidst the chaos.

You made your way to the Hilltop’s infirmary, your heart heavy but resolute. As the doctor performed the ultrasound, you held your breath, tears threatening to spill over. The sound of the baby’s heartbeat filled the room, strong and steady, a small beacon of hope in the darkness.

“It’s a boy,” the doctor announced with a gentle smile, and the tears you had been holding back finally flowed freely. You clutched your belly, imagining a little boy with Daryl’s piercing blue eyes, his determined spirit, and his fierce love. The knowledge that you were carrying a son gave you a renewed sense of purpose. You whispered to your belly, promising Daryl that you would stay strong, that you would protect their child with everything you had. The thought of a little boy who would grow up to be a hundred percent version of his father brought a sliver of light to your heart.

Each kick and movement from your baby boy was a reminder of the love you shared with Daryl, a love that had created this new life. Despite the uncertainty and fear, you held onto the hope that one day, Daryl would return, and you would introduce him to his son. Until then, you would keep fighting, for both of them.

...

Thirty minutes had passed, and you were in the kitchen, preparing something to eat. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables was almost soothing, a temporary distraction from the gnawing worry that had settled in your chest. Maggie was sitting beside the table, her expression a mix of concern and frustration.

“You should really let me do this,” Maggie insisted for the tenth time, her voice firm yet gentle. “You’re in the late stage of pregnancy. You need to rest.” You sighed, pausing for a moment to look at her. “Maggie, I’m fine.”

Maggie opened her mouth to argue again, but the sound of the gate to the Hilltop cracking open interrupted her. Her head snapped towards the window, eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of hope. She quickly got up, moving to the stove to turn off the gas. "Hey, what’s going on?” you asked, a mix of confusion and worry in your voice.

Maggie turned to you, her face lit up with a sudden, intense emotion. “Daryl came back!” Her voice trembled with joy and disbelief. For a moment, you stood there frozen, the words echoing in your mind. Daryl came back. The knife slipped from your hand, clattering onto the counter as you felt your heart race with a mixture of hope and fear.

You hurried towards the door, following Maggie. As you reached the courtyard, the sight that met your eyes took your breath away. There, amidst the gathering crowd, was Daryl. His clothes were worn and dirty, his face marked by exhaustion and pain, but he was there. He was alive.

Daryl looked up, and his eyes met yours. For a moment, everything else faded away. You rushed towards him, your hands instinctively moving to your belly, feeling the life inside you kicking in response to your racing heart.

“Daryl!” you cried, your voice breaking with emotion. He moved towards you, his steps quickening as he saw you. In an instant, he was there, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close. You buried your face in his chest, sobbing with relief.

“'m here,” he whispered, his voice rough but filled with love. “’m here, an' 'm not goin' anywhere.” You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands cupping his face. “I was so scared,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “I didn’t know if you were...” He just wiped away your tears in response.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace and the sound of his heartbeat, the world felt right again. You held onto him, promising yourself that you would never let go.

To your surprise, tears began to stream down Daryl’s face too. The strong man you knew, who rarely showed any signs of weakness, was now falling apart before your very eyes. He got on his knees and cupped your distended belly with his calloused hands, running his fingers over your skin softly, which brought tears to your eyes. "How is my little one?" he said with happiness and the tenderness of a father. He smiled at you and the weariness in his eyes was replaced by hope. “He’s okay,” you responded, not even realizing that you were saying it out loud. As for Daryl, his eyes opened wide in shock. “He?” he repeated, coming to the realization. It suddenly dawned on you that you had let it slip. You had planned to surprise him but in the heat of the moment, you blurted it out. “I’m sorry. .. Yes, I shouldn’t have—”Before you could finish, Daryl’s face softened. He slowly stood up, reaching out to cup your face gently. He said softly, “Nothin' to apologize for.”

"I love you"

"I love ya too"

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

curious about your take on riddle's dream. i have seen people en masse claim that riddle yearns to a deliquent/"if he wasn't traumatized, he would be in a pop music club" and... it feels like such a literal interpretation (although there are some who are obv just joking) to the point of misinterpretation? i'm not very invested in riddle's story arc, but to me it read like a pretty clear "what if i was the worst version of myself (which riddle has been raised to see as being disobedient) and i was still loveable".

[You can read my thoughts on the book 7 chapter 12 part 3 update here!]

I think there’s a lot of different ways to interpret the dreams because of how… vaguely they’re written + their length + every player coming into the dreams with their own experiences which inform their POVs. For this reason, I don’t feel comfortable outright stating X or Y interpretation is “wrong”, and nor do I wish to be used as a means to validating one interpretation over the others. All I’m going to do this ask is explain how I personally interpreted Riddle’s dream. That’s all.

I don’t think Riddle wants to be a delinquent; this would be conflating a child’s desires to that of a delinquent. Yes, Riddle was detained be a police officer—but not for any violence or serious criminal actions. He was detained for singing in front of the police station (without a license) and causing a public disturbance (because of his amplifiers). Furthermore, Riddle doesn’t engage in any other criminal behaviors (unless you count not going to school, but a minor isn’t usually held liable for that; the onus is on his parents for not sending him). I think it would be more accurate to say that Riddle’s wishes are very child-like ones. He wants to be able to play with his friends all day, he ignores studying and obeying rules, he can eat tarts and drink sugary tea whenever he wants, he has doting parents that are always emotionally there for him, etc. These are not marks of delinquency, they are the innocent longings of an inner child that never got to be recognized.

While I don’t think it’s a guarantee that Riddle would be in Pop/Light Music Club had he had a more lenient mother, I do think that Riddle would want to explore creative outlets. He is noted as having a very strong imagination, but is limited in his life experiences and struggles to think for himself or to act outside of the concrete, as is defined by rules and laws. If these restraints were loosened up and he had actually been allowed and encouraged to explore other avenues, he might have found an interest in the arts and expressing himself through that. It could be a visual medium, a written medium, a musical medium, whatever.

I think music is what we jump to right away because he has a band in the dream, but I could easily see him dabbling in other areas too. Maybe music was chosen because it’s a group activity, and Riddle longs to be that setting. A happy family, a boy with lots of friends, you name it. You could also argue that Riddle went with music because that’s what he knew from his dorm members. Adeuce are in athletic clubs, which Riddle is sort of rubbish at, and Trey is in Science Club, which of course covers topics Riddle would already be studying irl. Cater’s club is the only one with a significant degree of creativity allowed. Riddle might have based his hobby in the dream off of Cater’s experiences. One telltale detail that supports this theory is that Riddle mentions people keep leaving because the band can’t stick to one genre, which is also true of Cater’s irl Pop/Light Music Club. Another thing to consider is that Riddle is able to conjure the look of delicious cakes and cookies but not replicate the taste because he’s not familiar with it. You could say this is also true of his being in a band. He looks the part, but we never hear him participating in it—perhaps because Riddle could have seen Cater rushing to a club meeting in his outfit, but not have actually heard him play. Therefore, it’s possible that Riddle’s dream is just pulling from his shallow understanding of what “being in a band” is about… the camaraderie of it. This, again, loops us back to Cater’s relationship with his fellow club members. It’s less about the actual playing and more about the vibes and hanging out with one another. Maybe Riddle heard stories from Cater about this and got curious? This same logic applies to other aspects of his dream. He seems to emulate what he has heard from his dorm members in general. Loving parents who are there for him (like Trey), the bout of delinquency (like Deuce), the ability to speak his mind (like Ace). Riddle is wanting to be more like his peers, who were able to have “normal” experiences. To me, it feels like he used his dorm members as templates (which he combined with his own desire to have a fulfilling childhood) because Riddle himself doesn’t have a clear concept of what it means to live freely. After all, he only has like 1-2 months of playing with Trey and Chenya to go off of compared to a few years with his Heartslabyul classmates.

As I said earlier in this post, I don’t think the Riddle we see in the first layer of his dream is meant to be “the worst version of himself” or “Riddle but disobedient”; it reads as more of Riddle indulging in everything he missed out on in his childhood. Sweets, parental love, playing all day with friends, loudly and openly expressing himself through music, exploring creative ventures, making happy memories… I don’t believe these are bad things or borne out of Riddle wanting to be rebellious or disobedient, they’re just consequences of acting like a kid.

I do find it interesting that so many aspects of himself were entirely written over. However, I don’t see it as Riddle thinking he has to be a different person (as in, having a different personality?) in order to be worthy of love. Riddle was definitely still able to make friends as a child even with the quiet personality he had then. It was possible. Nothing in his backstory makes me think Riddle believes he wasn’t deserving of love—but he may think that love has to be earned, that love is conditional. And what is that condition? Following the rules, obeying, performing well in exams. That’s what he was taught would earn him success and his mother’s love and that’s what he enforced in early book 1. I think… Riddle definitely wants to be someone else, but in the sense that he wants to be born into different circumstances. Parents that get along, a dad that has time for him, a mom that dotes on him, no magic, no expectations to shoulder, lax rules, etc. This ties in with Riddle wanting to live the childhood he feels he never had. A childhood where he had no friends, where he studied all the time, where his mother calorie counted for him, where he was not allowed to play video games or watch movies, where he was not allowed to choose his own clothes or career or anything. Several of these sentiments were expressed post-OB.

Now that being said, everything I just discussed covers only the first layer of Riddle’s dream. I see the idea of Riddle thinking he has to be someone else coming through a little stronger in the second layer of his dream. That’s the part where everyone is being chased through the destroyed rose maze. Here, we see a much more extreme and even more domineering Riddle than what we saw in book 1. He lords over his students such that even his versions of Ace and Deuce have fallen into line and mindlessly follow his commands. The mob students are scared of him—and though Riddle is aware of it, he is content. They salute him and praise him for his iron fist. He is the most correct, after all. He is ruling just as his mother would, he is being the person his mother wants him to be.

This is expanded upon further in the third layer of his dream, in which he faces his inner darkness. Riddle confronts the truth: that he is desperate to cling onto the dorm leader seat, because that’s all he has going for him. He has driven away his classmates, who fear him and resent him. There’s his mother, but she has not granted him the affection he craves, and her approval is conditional. He is alone and unloved. This potentially recontexualizes details seen in earlier layers. Why is Riddle in a band? Maybe because he wants to be like Cater, who seems easygoing and approachable. Why does Riddle live many other aspects of his dorm members’ lives? Why do the characters conjured by Riddle’s darkness to fully believe that Cater wants to transfer to Scarabia—a dorm known for having a friendly and relaxed leader? It could suggest an insecurity in Riddle, a worry that he, as he is, is not enough. Not smart enough for his mother’s approval, not kind or cheery or normal enough to make friends. So all he has is his crown, which he reverently claims to. It’s one of the few things he has to call his own, a decision he made for himself and something he earned through his own merit.

But ultimately, I see Riddle’s truest desire as… being his own person, having his own independence and things he chose for himself. Not letting himself be ruled by the shadow of his mother. (His Phantom fittingly seems to dangle him on strings, as if Riddle is its puppet or marionette.) It doesn’t mean complete chaos or anarchy, and it doesn’t mean being like other people. It means defining his own rules for how he should live. Walking forward on his own path. Making his own identity, not tied down to that of his mother. Riddle is so used to being to do what to do or how to be—by his mom, by some arbitrary set of rules. The fact that he confesses to the things he actually wants after his OB… that he wants to stand up to his mother over winter break… that he confronts the dream version of his mom with the declaration that he will open this door with his own hand, that he will walk forward on his own path… I think that says a lot.

…. Weeeeell, like I said at the start, that’s one interpretation 🤷‍♀️ It’s not necessarily “correct”, and it’s liable to change (especially since all of this information is still very fresh; I’m still taking the time to digest it myself). The wibbly wobbly dream magic is open enough to invite all kinds of interpretations, so I encourage you to take this all with a grain of salt and to come to your own conclusions?

I think it’s interesting that it’s Riddle’s dream that has resulted in many different interpretations, especially on the English speaking side? I wonder if that’s because the average EN player skews younger, so those fans can relate a lot with the struggle for identity and finding freedom from one’s parents, even if their circumstances aren’t exactly the same as Riddle’s. We project our own experiences and feelings onto Riddle, which informs our interpretation of his dream.

[ewingstan]

One thing I appreciate about parahumans on an aesthetic level is that while there's an insistence on determining what would "really happen" if people had superpowers, and that oftentimes involves determining the exact mechanics and boundaries of someone's powers, is doesn't extend into the powers themselves making "realistic" sense. They're not "I have a powerful but explainable physical attribute" or "I control this one element/physical force/metaphysical force" that you sometimes see in modern "grounded" superhero deconstructions. Powers are wild and specific in a way that's better at capturing the feel of a comic superhero setting, without sacrificing the deconstructive angle.

Like, I'm on arc 12 of Ward right now, and "Red" keeps summoning random industrial equipment out of the ground. Saws, cranes, pistons, what-have-you. It doesn't seem like its a green lantern-style "I can create what I want but like to stylize my constructs" thing, it seems like its more "I can specifically summon industrial equipment." And there's lot of settings where something like that wouldn't make sense or fit in, particularly ones where powers are supposed to be mapped onto universal forces or natural kinds. Is "industrial equipment" a natural kind in the parahumans-verse? No. So why does she specifically control industrial equipment if that's an arbitrarily-defined category? Eh, it feels coherent as a powerset, and that's all the entities really care about.

There's a lot of powers with this quality. Pretty much all tinker abilities run into it: why can Bakuda have the ability to nuclear bombs, black hole bombs, and cold bombs, when all they have in common is triggering an effect in an area surrounding them? Why can Kenzie not make microphones, but can make "sound cameras?" Case 53s fit into this too: whats the relation between "secreting hallucinogens from your skin" and "having a tail?" Or "shooting out a bunch of random chemicals from your hands" and "being really durable?"

To be clear, this isn't a criticism. Works that insist on thinking up what superpowers it makes "sense" to have are cutting of a lot of the potential earned by getting weird with it. And works that focuses on giving characters only "fundamental" or "grounded" powersets oftentimes feel like they're in another, more boring genre entirely.

[gacha-incels]

“Arknights/Limbus Company/etc is obviously very political, why are these incels playing it?” Here’s a longer answer if you’re interested.

If you haven’t been watching gacha communities for the past decade this might be confusing to you, but these guys see the games as just apolitical stories with a majority or all-female cast being there to titillate the male viewer. They are for his consumption. It’s why in both eastern and western “gacha game” communities you can see them talking about how these games are better for having “beautiful” anime women versus the hideous hags of western media. I’ve seen so many people asking “how are incels playing a game with so many strong female characters?” They see them not as “strong female” characters but rather “eyecandy made for me”. tbh when it comes down to it I wouldn’t call any of the designs in these games absolutely groundbreaking for the anime genre they’re aiming for. Arknights even follows the standard “fully animal faced-guy” and the female equivalent “small featured anime animal girl with some fur”. This doesn’t mean the designs are bad or you’re foolish for enjoying them of course, there are a lot of fun ones. Anyway, you can see the same sentiment in the majority of anime communities as well. Like do you think that stereotype of an anime nerd who “loves 2D women but hates 3D women” means he’s a feminist because the 2D girl is still female?

To be frank, after some of the actions taken by these companies (ex. the firing of women for posting anything vaguely feminist) can you honestly say an “apolitical game with anime babes” is not the way the games are often enjoyed? The company Yostar who publishes Arknights in Korea literally wrote a statement saying the game is apolitical and calling feminism a dividing force. If the publisher can say something so flippantly like this just to appease their incel fanbase, how can the game be making any meaningful, hardline progressive political statements? I am of course not saying this renders any positive message you get from these games moot nor am I saying it’s impossible for the writers to be passionate about their work, I’m just relaying the thoughts of the incels/“gacha gamers” playing them because there seems to be confusion. What I’m writing here doesn’t mean the worst interpretation of these games are their defining interpretations. I’m trying to explain how the games that many people see as being antithetical to incel beliefs can have these same men as high-spending fans.

Gacha games are unique in the world of consumer media in their extremely close and constant relationship with the consumer. You have to not only love each character’s design (and sometimes story) but also be willing to drop serious gambling money to “buy” them every single month. It’s like merchandizing on steroids. I think the term “whale” has been watered down since younger kids have started playing, but these people spend thousands per patch. Over the years I’ve heard about multiple games like this being sustained by just a couple of high spenders. In 2018 there was even a western news article about a man who had spent $70k+ on FGO. The publisher can’t rock the boat too much to displease the consumer too many times without risking EoS. Every character design and story of a gacha game is affected by this FIRST while any artistic intent comes second.

A Korean woman who had lost her job due to similar “feminist hunting” tactics wrote an article describing the way these incel men think. I posted it here and part of it summarized: the men that play these games see themselves as buying and “owning” the female characters in gacha games, who are often dressed and presented to them in a highly sexualized manner and will obey their commands. In the same way they “own” these 2D women, they also want to own the thoughts of the real live female illustrators who work on the games. Therefore, if these women have expressed ideas that the male gamers find upsetting, they will be angry she doesn’t conform to what they want like the servile 2D girl and do everything to get her fired (this is where she mentions Limbus Company as the most recent example of this happening).

You can argue for some of these games, maybe the girls aren’t dressed super provocatively and give (you) shit instead of being a simpering doll, but in the end it’s not like they can physically walk away or stop speaking to you. For the “waifu” hunter guy it’s just a different type of anime girl to collect.

The stories in these games are generally not what gets targeted as much by incels. In gacha “gamer” communities, especially the Korean incel ones, their main concerns are: how revealing are the summer swimsuits? How many women work for the company designing characters? and related, Are the male characters designed for women or for men and do they “look gay”? If you search through this blog, you can see them directly speaking about these things in regards to their hatred of Genshin Impact and Star Rail. All of these have also been encapsulated in the original Limbus Company incel attack: they hated that the summer female character looked more “clothed” (wearing a skintight suit instead of a bikini) than the male summer character. They thought the collar necklace and open shirt on the male summer character meant he was “a slave” for the female viewers, so obviously it was designed by a woman. When they learned a man designed and illustrated those characters, they searched to find a female illustrator who worked in the game and went after her instead. These guys WERE FANS that played the game beforehand and didn’t think anything in the story was upsetting enough to attack the company about. They were familiar enough with the works of Project Moon to name their little group after an antagonizing force in one of PM’s previous (non-gacha) videogames. And Project Moon saw them as such a significant part of their gacha fanbase that they wrote an immediate apology and fired the artist. How do these actions in reality inform their fiction and the interpretation of it? Getting this out of the way, they were NOT in any danger, the “fans” were not clamoring to get in their offices or camping outside, they were let in and calmly had a meeting with some employees at the office. You can still find photos of them goofing around, the ridiculous write up they brought with them and a transcript of the conversation. This was not a “guy shows up at Mihoyo’s offices with a knife” situation. In the end it was a financial and moral loss for the studio with many new and longtime fans completely dropping the games and Limbus Company taking one of the biggest financial and D/MAU drops for a gacha I’ve ever seen. You can read more regarding the ramifications of this here, this post is already pretty long for this website anyway.

Again I’m not writing this to shame anyone who plays these games, loves their characters or enjoys their stories. I don’t really care either way, and I obviously find the genre interesting or else I wouldn’t have been monitoring it and the fans for a decade. I just want to shine a light on the thoughts of the more “incel” gamers that play some of these games since I have seen a lot of genuine confusion as to why they would play them. In the future my aim is to write a more in-depth post about these issues, their history and the way antifeminists think.

[hee0soo]

Don't call me a Friend!

Pairing — Kim Hongjoong x afab!Reader

Summary — Not sure what exactly you were you meet the boys. But even when you had yet to define what you had, you wer not "just" friends...

Genre — fluff

AU/Trope Info — Non-Idol!Au

Wordcount — 0.7k

Warnings — alcohol mentioned, language

Rating — PG-13

A/N — Inspired by Meghan Trainors song -Title-

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

“So, what are you two?” Yunho questioned and took a sip of his beer. His eye curiously resting on you and Hongjoong sitting right next to you along with the others.

This was the first time you actually got to hang out with the boys, only having met in passing when you left Hongjoong’s apartment as the man had always made sure to keep his friends and you separated and avoid questions he wasn’t quite sure how to answer.

However today the boys had finally managed to get him to agree to a hang out and you loved every minute since you had walked into the bar with Hongjoong’s side.

Hongjoong looked a bit like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck at the question of the tallest.

“We, uhm— we’re good friends…” he fumbled with his words and with wide eyes you stared at him before quickly schooling your face into a neutral one.

Ever since you started this you had never really talked about what it is that you had with each other, but hearing him say you were friends? Now that was just a complete and utter lie.

Friends don’t fall into bed together after dinner at some chic restaurant. Friends don’t kiss simply because the other was watching with that gentle whipped smile and friends certainly were not being as lovey dovey as you were.

Wooyoung across from you snorted. “Good friends, suure… is that why I walke-“ he cut himself of with a grunt and a painful expression on his face.

“I have no idea what you mean.” the man next to you deadpanned unimpressed.

He looked just as unimpressed as you felt. The only difference was that your mood went more against the man himself and that didn’t change when his eyes met yours.

Hongjoong immediately knew that you weren’t as chill as you wanted the boys to know. He regretted his words almost as soon as they had left him yet he didn’t dare let that get to him now.

The man didn’t want to put a label on what you had when he didn’t know if you even wanted one and so to say you were friends was the safest option for now.

With the conversation moving along and the focus shifting slowly away from you and Hongjoong, you used the moment to lean over to him.

“I think you and I need a new drink, right?” and with that you got up and moved towards the bar. Your friend scrambled up and after you through the crowd.

Yeosang elbowed San to get his attention and nodded to where you both had vanished in the crowd.

“Friends my ass.”

Over by the bar you waited for the bartender to finish and give him your order when you felt Hongjoong’s hands on your waist and his warm breath fan over your neck and ear.

“Y/n i-“ he tried.

“You don’t need to explain.” You shrugged and tried to ignore the shiver running down your spine at his touch.

“I think I do. When I said you’re my friend I mean-“

“Don’t call me a friend! Not when you had your dick buried in my pussy not even a few hours ago.”

Hongjoong had to stop himself from smiling at the memory and how petulant you sounded even when you had your back turned to him and without seeing your face.

“I hope you know that you are much more to me then just a friend. I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to, you know, be in an actual relationship with me.”

With your newly filled drinks you turned in his arms to face him.

“If I hear that word again, you will never get to see me naked again…”

His smile softened as he looked you straight in the eyes.

“I understand my love.”

And his lips met your own.