#huge fucking wip. if i even finish it

[mothfinite]

we r getting somewhere........ (>×e)9

[oflgtfol]

while im looking thru my old unfinished art, happy pride month to my two gay kitties from the warriors oc fanfic i was writing back in 2017-2018. featuring skystar's boyfriend who would show up later in the fic which i never got to write far enough to feature him. lol

[marsbotz]

fuck my life man the only recent GOOD animations i have to submit are both inhun related. SO EMBARRASSING.

[laserbobcat]

A WIP i'll never finish, i tried! I started this before march and will never finish it properly. I'm glad I had the energy to at least clean the last panels enough. I was trying a new style/process and it doesn't stick. Anyway, I'll just tell the rest of the story since I (probably) won't draw it, and maybe some of you like to read:

Nari turns into a god again, to his surprise. Turns out it's because the Lamb fucked up a new age reversing ritual they're trying out, and turned themselves into a baby. Too weak of a vessel, so the crown had to jump ships back to him. Narinder enjoys this IMMENSELY. Makes a dramatic evil laugh and give some kind of speech about how the Lamb is stupid and he's the boss now. He tells Aym and Baal to babysit the Lamb until they're old enough to be trained like they both were and "Maybe this time around they will learn obedience" and exits- also dramatically. The cultists start to panic, what the hell is that giant god, what do you mean it's Narinder are you kidding me? The tsundere Lamb's friend? The grumpy fisherman? Oh no what are we gonna do without the Lamb etc etc... Until Leshy laughs out loud and says "Just ignore him and wait a day or two, he's gonna get tired of bossing people around and miss his precious Lamb. He'll find a solution." Aym deadpan says five, Leshy says five days seems too long he'll cave in sooner than that, but Baal says "No we mean five minutes." And BAM the temple's door open again and Narinder is here yelling MORTALS I need you to remember EXACTLY the words they made you chant, I need it to reverse the ritual!

He quickly realized that this Lamb will not be HIS Lamb, HIS lamb is gone for good if he doesn't cook some good magic real quick. And that's the start of a period of time where Nari has to bust his ass trying to undo the Lamb's failed magic. I had bunch of stuff in mind, including: -Lambie being the worst and most insufferable baby ever. No one sleeps on their watch, and no one gets to be distracted for a second otherwise they start eating rocks. their yell is the loudest noise ever heard. The goat is a joke next to them. Everyone has the tired parent trait now. -Narinder smashing people to death when they're annoying and distracting him from his research. He adds their name to "the resurrection list" for the Lamb to deal with later. The followers somehow get used to it. -Morgan trying his best to keep Leshy away from his irritated brother, despite his intense need to annoy him at the worst time possible. -Narinder yelling "Fetch me my thinking Lamb!" and then squishing the baby between two fingers like a squeaky toy to help him focus (the baby enjoys that) -Saleos and Irene forcing a huge ass exhausted and irritable 19 feet god to take a rest, maybe go fishing to get some air. -Narinder accidentally hitting his head on the door frame of the temple. A lot. -Narinder reluctantly having to officiate the important rituals "I don't care about your damn crops but let's get this over with- NO we're not having an exhibitionist dance go back to work!" -Thena having to read most of the Lamb's writing for him because they write in cursive that is so pretty it's unreadable -Thena making him realize how much work the Lamb is doing everyday. Narinder keeps in mind that he will have to make him rest later. The end would be Narinder finally managing to reverse the ritual, and a butt naked, befuddled adult Lamb appearing on the floor of the temple. Narinder takes the crown off of his head and throws it at their face, and yells at them while changing back into his mortal form and stomping out of the temple: "You IDIOT baby god trying to CREATE new magics when you're not even able to master the old ones completely I CAN'T BELIEVE you would try something so stupid do you even realize how much of a pain in the ass it was to understand your weird logic and clean your mess I SWEAR if you ever do something like that I'll let you rot in whatever pit you dig for yourself AND DON'T YOU DARE SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THE RESURRECTION LIST-" And slams the door on his way out, leaving the lamb astounded.

Cut to Narinder getting back to his house in his tree, and flopping on his bed, exhausted. He massages his arms, visibly relieved to have them back to normal, without the pain. He sighs with a little smile, stretches, curls into a ball and falls asleep.

That's how the lamb finds him later when they carefully come to talk to him after hearing about all of what happened. Except the black cat loaf on the bed changed into a baby.

Rinse and repeat.

[shadowkoo]

Up In Flames - Part 2

→ Summary: When your sister calls with an emergency, you drop everything to house-sit while she’s out of town. What she forgets to mention is that her fiancé’s friend, a handsome stranger who might have saved your life earlier, is already expecting to stay there too. Awkwardly sharing the space, you manage to get through two weeks with Seungcheol—only to unexpectedly cross paths again when he saves you from another dangerous situation outside your therapist’s office.

Seungcheol, a wildland firefighter, is back in the city taking his leave and debating whether to join Station 17 or return home. While sorting out his own issues, he keeps finding himself in situations where he has to save you—the fiery, stubborn little sister of his best friend’s fiancée who has a terrible habit of calling him the most obnoxious nicknames ever. Despite your resistance to being rescued (and his denial of how much you affect him), the sparks between you two continue to ignite. As you grow closer, it’s only a matter of time before everything goes up in flames.

↠ seungcheol x f.reader | Part 2 = 23.8k (42.7k words total, i’m so sorry but also not really 🗿) | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, action, slow burn, firefighter au, author au, damsel in distress au, ‘let me help you’ wildland firefighter!cheol x ‘i can do it myself’ miss independent yet clumsy!reader

→ Warnings: fire, car accident, extreme burns, graphic & traumatic death of non-significant characters (read at your own risk!), seungcheol suffers from panic attacks and ptsd, solo masturbating (seungcheol gets a lil freaky in the bathroom one morning), grinding in a hot tub, fingering, protected & unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex, cheol is a proud muncher, body worship, taking plan b, jealous coups, slight possessive coups, breast play, nipple sucking & biting, dirty talk, soft sex, rough sex, creampie, praise, begging, aftercare, stripping, heavy teasing & banter, tongue fucking, cheol loves to rub himself through your fold, praise kink, semi-public sex (cheol fucks you hard against a firetruck), injury, cuts, smoke inhalation and other dangerous elements (again, please read at your own risk!)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @lapydiariesnet @keopihausnet

@svthub @thediamondlifenetwork

→ Author Note: thanks to maren @wooahaeproductions and lexi @heechwe for helping me come up with some of these funny nicknames used in here a few months back! this is the first fic of my station 17 collab, check it out here and stay tuned for the next fics from alta @haologram sevń @aaagustd and yannie @wonuwoe!!! dedicated to all my coups girlies, i know you’ll love this <3

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

→ READ PART 1 ⟡⋆⟡ SERIES MLIST ←

Last night was a wake-up call. Seungcheol can’t let himself be completely derailed just because of the gravitational pull he feels toward you. Right? That would be crazy…

And yet, as if the universe wasn’t done tormenting him (he still can’t believe the timing of that phone call) he’d gotten another gut punch soon after you took Kate’s call. A text from Mingyu.

Hey, don’t forget about the open spot at Station 17. Interview’s yours if you want it. Come crash with me until then.

In the heat of the moment, still spiraling from nearly losing control with you, Seungcheol had said yes. Told Mingyu he’d be there by tomorrow, which is, technically, today.

Now, lying in bed staring at the ceiling, he wonders if that was the right move. Or if he’s making a huge mistake by leaving.

Or, worse, if staying would be an even bigger one.

…

You wake up alone, not that you expected Seungcheol to climb into your bed during the night, but still, waking up to some slow, lazy morning sex wouldn’t have been the worst thing.

Instead, the only thing greeting you is the smell of breakfast wafting through the air. You smile, stretching as you sit up. Nothing better than breakfast together… and then finishing what we started last night.

With that thought lingering, you climb out of bed and head to the kitchen, excitement bubbling in your chest.

"Morning," you say, sliding onto a stool at the island, watching as he flips the last pancake onto a plate. You expect him to turn, grin at you, maybe tease you about last night, maybe even pick up where you left off.

But he doesn’t.

Something’s off. He seems stiffer than usual, his movements too careful. Your stomach twists.

It’s only when he finally turns around and sets a plate of pancakes in front of you that he drops the bomb.

"I'm leaving today."

You blink. "What?"

"I…figured some stuff out, and I have to be somewhere in a few hours."

You stare at him, waiting for something more. An explanation that makes sense. A reason that doesn’t sound like complete bullshit. Because while you believe him, you also know this has everything to do with last night. And that realization stings.

But you won’t ask. You won’t embarrass yourself like that.

Your pride flares, masking the disappointment sinking into your bones. "I don’t want your pity pancakes," you mutter, pushing the plate back toward him. "Have a safe drive wherever you’re going."

Then, without another word, you turn and disappear into your room, slamming the door behind you.

Part of you hopes he’ll come after you. That he’ll barge in, apologize, explain himself. The other part just wants to be left alone to lick your wounds in peace.

But when you finally gather the courage to come out for an adult conversation, you’re met with nothing but silence.

And an empty house. He left. Without saying goodbye.

Mika whines by the front door, already missing him too.

2 Days Since Seungcheol

The longest two days of your life.

You don’t know if you’re more pissed off or hurt. One minute, you wish you could scream at him "Are you a fucking idiot?" Another part of you wishes you could say "I've fallen so hard for you." Then, you’re convincing yourself that he’s not worth the energy. If he wanted to explain himself, he would’ve. If he cared as much as you do, he wouldn’t have left in the first place.

But then your brain betrays you, reminding you of every touch, every look, every fucking moment that made you feel alive in his presence. And just like that, you’re back to square one, seething, heartbroken, and in desperate need of a distraction.

Unfortunately, waiting for a response from your team isn’t the ideal way to keep your mind occupied. You sent over the latest chapters last night with a simple message: This is the creative direction I’m going with. If you don’t like it, you’ll have to learn to. Otherwise, I’ll take my books elsewhere.

The most assertive you’ve ever been. It felt good to take control, to stand your ground. You channeled all your frustration over Seungcheol into that email, and now all that’s left to do is wait.

Since Kate and Jun are supposed to be arriving sometime today, you’ve spent the last few hours cleaning. Anything to keep yourself busy. The kitchen is spotless, the living room dust-free, and now you’re finishing up in the bedrooms.

As you strip the sheets off the bed, a familiar scent lingers in the fabric. Cedarwood and a subtle musk.

Seungcheol.

You freeze, the breath knocked out of you by something as simple as a goddamn bedsheet. It still smells like him. You close your eyes for a moment, gripping the fabric tighter. As much as you want to erase every trace of him, the idea of washing this last piece of him away feels... unbearable.

“Goddamn it, Cheol,” you whisper, voice trembling.

You shake yourself out of it, throwing the sheets into the hamper with more force than necessary. He left. You need to get over it.

But as you grab fresh linens from the closet, your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

Your heart stutters.

Maybe it’s him. Maybe he got your number from Jun and he’s finally come to his senses, finally realized what a complete asshole move it was to disappear like that.

You practically lunge for your phone, but when you see the sender, your stomach drops.

Not Seungcheol.

Just your editor.

And the message?

A single thumbs-up emoji.

You stare at it, heat rising in your chest. After everything, after putting your foot down, after fighting for your creative vision—this is their response?

No feedback. No acknowledgment. Just a fucking thumbs-up?

A new kind of anger burns through you, one that has nothing to do with Seungcheol.

Needless to say, by the time Kate and Junhui step through the front door, the house is spotless. You’ve spent the last several hours scrubbing, dusting, and organizing—anything to keep yourself from spiraling.

“Hi! I’ve missed you!” Kate beams, pulling you into a tight hug.

You cling to her for a second longer than usual, grounding yourself in the comfort of familiarity.

“What have you been up to? And where’s Seungcheol?” she asks, glancing around as if expecting him to walk out of the kitchen at any moment.

Your stomach twists. They don’t know.

“He left,” you say flatly. “The next morning after you called last.”

Jun sets their bags down, eyes flicking up to meet yours with a look you can’t quite decipher. It’s not surprise, not exactly. More like…concern. Like he already knows there’s more to the story than he’s willing to share.

Kate, however, is instantly thrown. “He what?” Her brows knit together as she takes in your expression, your tired eyes, the way you’re hugging yourself. Realization dawns, and before you can blink, she’s pulling you into another hug.

“Oh honey, come here.”

The warmth of her arms around you, the softness in her voice, it’s enough to break whatever fragile hold you had on your emotions. Your throat tightens, and before you can stop yourself, the whole story spills out.

Every last detail.

From the way he kissed you like he was starving, to the way he pulled away like you’d burned him. The way he left that morning without so much as a goodbye. The way you woke up thinking—no, hoping—you’d get another chance, only to figure out he already made plans to leave.

Kate listens intently, nodding along, her expression shifting between shock, outrage, and deep-seated frustration.

“Okay,” she says finally, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but…maybe he left because he does care.”

You blink. “What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Jun, who has been quietly watching from the sidelines, finally speaks up. “I mean, it sounds like he panicked. Like he felt something real and it freaked him out.”

Kate nods. “And instead of dealing with it like an adult, he ran.”

You scoff, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, well, he could have at least said something instead of disappearing like a coward.”

“True,” Jun agrees, “but maybe this isn’t over. If you want to get in touch with him—”

You shake your head. “No. He made his choice. And I’m not going to sit around waiting for him to un-make it.”

Kate studies you for a long moment, then sighs. “Okay. Then let’s get your mind off of it. You need a distraction.”

Jun grins, raising a bottle. “Lucky for you, we brought wine.”

Kate settles onto the couch, shooting her husband a sideways glance as he pours three generous glasses. “Oh, and by the way,” she says casually, “when you text Coups next, tell him I think he’s an ass.”

“Kate!” you groan, your head snapping up.

“What?” she shrugs. “He is.”

You sigh, turning to Jun. “Please don’t say anything to him. I’m already mortified about the whole situation. Clearly, I misread everything, and there’s no need to harass him about it. Really.” You drop your face into your hands. “In fact, I’d love to just forget it ever happened.”

Kate rubs a soothing hand over your back, but you don’t miss the way she exchanges a knowing look with her husband.

“Okay, sweetie,” she says, her voice gentle but far too agreeable. “Whatever you want.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “Kate…”

“What?” she says innocently, sipping her wine.

Jun clears his throat, but there’s the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

They’re definitely going to discuss this later.

Five Days Since Seeing You

Seungcheol completed his interview earlier this week, though the term interview is generous. He was practically a shoo-in for the open position. It was more of a formality, a final box to check before officially signing his contract. And just like that, he became the newest firefighter at Station 17.

The guys have been great; they’re so welcoming and easygoing, treating him like he’s been there for years. The transition has been smooth, the work familiar, the routine comforting.

Everything is going great.

And yet, he can’t shake this feeling weighing him down.

Because as much as he should be excited about this new chapter, all he can think about is how much he wants to tell you about it.

He knows he fucked up by leaving. He was panicking, and in the moment, it felt like the only way out. Staying meant inevitably hurting you in the future. Leaving meant hurting you now. Either way, you’d get hurt. He’d hurt you by breaking a promise, something he can’t afford to do right now. Not with his previously delicate state. Not when he’s just finally started to heal.

With a sigh, he leans back in his truck seat, staring up at the office sign in front of him.

He’s really not looking forward to today.

To finalize his transition onto the team, the fire chief required a mandatory meeting with a therapist, a standard “head check” to ensure he was mentally fit for duty.

Normally, he’d be seeing the station’s staffed therapist, Dr. Xu Minghao, but apparently, his schedule was packed this week. So instead, Seungcheol was assigned an outside source for evaluation.

He runs a hand down his face, exhaling slowly.

Of all the things he wanted to do today, sitting in a sterile office, talking about his feelings with a stranger, ranked dead last.

Stepping out of his truck, he locks it and waits for the remaining car to drive by before crossing the road.

“Wow, someone’s gonna slip on that, they should put some salt out,” he says to himself, noticing how icy a section of the sidewalk is, hidden from the sun.

He sighs again, realizing he’s trying to find anything to avoid heading inside.

Get it done and over with ‘Cheol.

With one final groan, he forces himself to step into the office.

The session is more exhausting than he expected. The therapist is sharp, reading between the lines of everything he says, sensing the weight he refuses to fully unpack.

He shifts uncomfortably as she prods at the fire that still haunts him. The way the smoke had swallowed the house. The way the screams had cut off too soon. The way he’d clawed through debris, lungs burning, only to come up short.

She listens, nodding as she takes notes, before finally meeting his eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

That’s what everyone tells him.

But he knows better. He wasn’t the one who set the fire, but he could have tried harder, could have pushed his limits just a little more. Maybe then…

His throat tightens.

“You can blame yourself for life, and they’ll still be dead, Seungcheol.” The therapist’s voice is firm but not unkind. “You can either accept that, grieve, and learn how to move forward. Or you can let this tear apart your life. It’s up to you.”

He looks away, jaw clenching.

After a pause, she signs off on his paperwork. “I’m clearing you for duty, but I highly recommend biweekly follow-ups with Dr. Xu.” She meets his eyes again, unyielding. “I’ll reach out to your chief myself, so don’t think you’re getting out of this. You need this, Seungcheol. You need to deal with your PTSD before it deals with you.”

His fingers tighten into fists on his lap. He nods once.

Seungcheol picks up the papers and drags himself out of the therapy room, his mind heavy and clouded, the weight of the session still pressing down on him. He heads toward the reception area, and that’s when he sees you. His heart lurches in his chest.

You’re a few steps ahead outside the door; maybe it’s the way the tension between you both always seems to linger, or maybe it’s just instinct, but something causes you to turn around, and your eyes meet his.

For a split second, time seems to freeze, and Seungcheol’s heart pounds in his ears. He’s not prepared for this. He has no idea how you’ll react, no idea what to say or do. The regret he feels for walking away hits him like a wave, but there’s no time to address it.

As his thoughts spiral, his eyes dart down. He sees the icy patch on the ground just in time, but it’s too late. You’re already stepping onto it, your foot slipping from under you.

Everything happens in slow motion as Seungcheol’s breath catches and his warning dies in his throat as you fall, your body jerking violently before gravity yanks you down. Your head hits the pavement with a sickening crack, and all the air rushes from his lungs.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he breathes, scrambling to your side, hands already reaching for you. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

You blink up at him, dazed, and then like flipping a switch, your eyes harden into sharp slits.

“I don’t need your help,” you snap, shoving his hands off. “I’m perfectly capable of standing up on my own.”

His stomach twists at your hostility, but he backs off, hands hovering just in case.

You manage to push yourself upright, wincing as you touch the back of your head. Seungcheol clenches his fists to keep from reaching for you again.

Then, as if just processing the situation, you narrow your eyes even further. “What are you even doing here?”

Seungcheol swallows. He wasn’t prepared for this. Not now, not like this. But he can’t exactly lie, not when the evidence is all around him.

“I had an appointment,” he admits, voice low.

Your brows knit together. “Here?”

He nods.

Realization dawns across your face, and for a second your expression softens. Then it’s gone, replaced by guarded skepticism.

“Right,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Of course.”

Seungcheol doesn’t know what to say. He wants to ask if you’re okay, wants to reach for you again, but he can feel the walls between you, thick and impenetrable.

You exhale sharply, shaking your head once more before muttering, “Whatever. See you around, Seungcheol.”

Hearing you use his actual name and not one of your creative nicknames stings more than he’d like to admit. You turn on your heel, walking away from him without a word, leaving Seungcheol standing there in the cold, his heart heavy in his chest. He watches you take a few steps, but then, just like that, you stumble again.

Before you even have a chance to catch yourself, Seungcheol is by your side, steadying you with a hand on your arm.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you really should get checked out. You could have a concussion, or worse,” he says, his voice more insistent than he intends it to be.

You scoff, shaking your head. “I’m not going to the ER or urgent care. I’ve got enough on my plate today without wasting hours in a waiting room.”

Seungcheol doesn’t back down. “Then at least come with me to the station. I’ve got guys there with more medical training than I have. They can take a look at you.”

You sigh heavily, frustration clouding your expression. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

“Nope,” he says firmly, meeting your gaze, his tone softening just a touch. “You’re not leaving my sight. Not until you get checked out.” And even after that.

…

The ride back to the station feels suffocatingly silent. Seungcheol’s grip on the steering wheel is tight, his knuckles pale from the tension. His mind is a chaotic whirl of worst-case scenarios; brain bleeds, fractured skulls, aneurysm. Every time he glances at you, his stomach twists in anxiety.

He’s brought you to the station, not because he wants to, but because he has to make sure you’re okay. He can’t live with the idea that something’s wrong, something he missed. The place he’s been trying to settle into now feels like a blur as he focuses only on getting you seen by someone qualified.

“We need someone to look her over right now,” Seungcheol says as he helps you inside, his voice clipped, his urgency clear.

Within seconds, someone rushes over, immediately assessing the situation. He’s dark-haired and familiar, locking eyes with Seungcheol.

“She slipped on an ice patch and hit her head pretty hard. She was unsteady after,” Seungcheol explains, the worry still evident in his tone.

You recognize him immediately, it’s the same man who had been there during your power line incident. He offers a small, knowing smile as he addresses you.

“You must have a thing for danger,” he says, trying to lighten the mood, his voice warm. “Alright, follow my finger for me, yeah?”

You nod, rolling your eyes in a way that lets him know you’re not in the mood for jokes, but you follow the instructions anyway. Mingyu finishes checking you over thoroughly, testing for the usual concussion symptoms. His hands are steady as he works, and he even checks for a few other things just to put Seungcheol’s mind at ease.

Through the whole process, you can feel Seungcheol’s gaze on you, his body tense and watchful as he waits for the all-clear.

“Well, good news, no concussion,” one of the firefighters says, giving you a reassuring smile. “But you’re probably going to have a killer headache for the rest of the day, at least.” He stands up and nods, "I’ll grab you some pain relievers and an ice pack."

You almost beg him not to leave. You don’t know if you can handle being alone with Seungcheol right now. The tension is too much, and there’s so much left unsaid. But for some reason, none of the words feel right.

As the firefighter leaves, you can feel the weight of the silence. You don’t want to, but you have to say something.

“Sorry I was so short with you earlier,” you start, your voice quieter than you intended. “I was surprised to see you again. You left so suddenly, and I... I just assumed you wanted to forget everything that happened between us.”

Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair, his expression tense and worn. He sighs heavily, his eyes dark with regret. “I didn’t want to leave,” he admits, his voice low and heavy with the burden of unspoken words. “I thought it would be best, though. I just… I didn’t want to make promises to you that I couldn’t keep.” His gaze flickers down to the floor for a moment before meeting your eyes again, filled with vulnerability and uncertainty. “I’m not sure what I want, and I didn’t want to drag you into that.”

The admission hangs in the air between you. The walls that you built to keep him distant start to crumble, but it’s not enough to tear them down entirely. Not yet.

“I missed you,” Seungcheol says, the words slipping out before he can stop them, vulnerable in a way you haven’t heard from him before.

You meet his eyes, feeling the familiar ache twist in your chest. The urge to reach out, but you hold yourself back.

“Well…what now?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended, unsure where things go from here.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, eyes softening as he looks at you. “I’ll leave it up to you,” he says. “Can I see your phone?”

You hesitate for just a moment, then dig around in your purse, your fingers brushing over the edges of your phone. You unlock it, hand it to him, and watch as he taps away at the screen.

When he hands it back to you, your heart skips a beat.

He’s added himself to your contacts. Cheolie now sits with a flame emoji beside his number. You stare at it for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips before you can stop it.

“There,” he says, his voice quieter now. “You have my number. You can use it if you want...or you can pretend you’ve never met me.” His eyes search yours, a hint of hope behind the layers of uncertainty. “But I’m really hoping it’s the latter.”

You laugh softly, a mix of relief and confusion washing over you. “I don’t think I could forget you, even if I wanted to.” You glance down at your phone again, the flame emoji burning a little brighter than it should.

The sun is shining brightly today, casting a golden glow over the city. Its warmth seeps into your skin as you stroll down the sidewalk, Mika prancing ahead, her tail wagging with every step. The fresh air fills your lungs, momentarily easing the tension that’s been sitting in your chest all week.

It’s been seven days since you last saw Seungcheol. Seven days since he handed you the reins, giving you the choice of whether to reach out.

You haven’t wanted to.

Okay, maybe that’s a lie. You’ve definitely wanted to. You’ve hovered over his name in your contacts more times than you’d like to admit, especially late at night when the loneliness creeps in.

But texting him just because you miss him doesn’t feel like the right move. You both need a real conversation, and between book cover meetings, deadlines, and endless revisions, the right time just hasn’t come up yet.

You sigh, wondering if you should just break the ice and say hi.

Then, suddenly, your phone rings. Always interrupting your thoughts. You glance at the screen and answer, barely getting out a greeting before a clipped, professional voice cuts through.

"We’d like to see you this afternoon to discuss your book."

You blink, caught off guard. Getting called into your publisher’s office unexpectedly isn’t usually a good sign. Anxiety prickles at your skin, but you push it down. You can handle this.

The only problem? You’re downtown, window shopping with Mika, and you know you can’t bring her inside. One of the admins has a severe dog allergy, and there’s no way they’ll make an exception.

You quickly fire off a message in your friend group chat, hoping someone can watch her for an hour.

Hey, urgent favor! Can anyone watch Mika for a bit? Got a last-minute meeting.

One by one, the replies roll in. Busy, sorry, stuck at work, wish I could.

Ugh. This is not good. You glance down at Mika, who looks up at you with wide, trusting eyes. An idea creeps into your mind—one you immediately push away.

No. You can’t.

Can you?

You chew on your lip, staring at your phone like it holds the answer. After a deep breath, you sigh and send a quick message before you can second-guess yourself.

A quick twenty minutes later, he rounds the corner. Your heart does an embarrassing little flip when you see Seungcheol, who looks just as effortlessly handsome as ever.

Mika notices him at the same time you do, her tail wagging frantically as she yaps in excitement.

“Hi,” he says, stepping close, his lips brushing your cheek in a brief but familiar gesture.

You exhale, tension leaving your body just a little. “I’m so sorry for asking, but thank you for showing up. You’re literally saving the day, thank you so much.”

His eyes soften. “I’ll always show up,” he says simply, taking Mika’s leash from your hand. “Here, let me take her.”

You hesitate for just a second, watching as he effortlessly soothes Mika, scratching behind her ears.

“Good luck in your meeting,” he adds, his voice warm.

As you turn to go, you glance back once more. He’s already walking off with Mika, talking to her like she understands every word. The sight tugs at something deep inside you, something warm, something dangerous.

Shaking your head, willing yourself to focus. You have a meeting to get through. But damn, that man makes it hard to think straight.

You walk the short distance to your publisher’s building, each step making your heart beat a little faster. The elevator ride up feels both too quick and too slow, carrying you to a floor you’ve spent countless hours on.

The receptionist greets you with a warm smile. “Hi, Miss Y/N. Let me gather the team and let them know you’ve arrived.”

You nod, offering a polite smile as she picks up the phone. Within moments, she gestures toward the hall. “They’re ready for you in the conference room.”

Here goes nothing.

You take a steadying breath and walk down the familiar hallway, knocking lightly before stepping inside. “Hi, everyone, thanks for waiting,” you say, slipping into a chair. Your hands rest on the table, steady despite the nerves buzzing under your skin. “I know we have different ideas about how this book should play out, but as the main creative in the room, I want to emphasize that I want this to work just as much as you all do. So let’s discuss.”

You brace yourself for pushback, but instead, the head editor at the head of the table smiles.

“Thank you for making time to see us in person,” she begins. “We have a very important update to share with you.”

You straighten in your seat, anxiety prickling at your spine.

“We gave the draft of your book to a subgroup of readers to get their initial reactions…” She pauses, dragging out the suspense. “And you were right.”

Your breath catches.

“Almost everyone had the same thing to say, this book is somehow even better than the first. And that’s not something we get to say often.”

For a second, all you can do is blink.

They…loved it?

The weight that’s been pressing on your chest for weeks suddenly lifts, leaving you lightheaded.

You let out a breathless laugh, barely able to contain your shock. “Wait, really?”

The editor nods. “Really. We still have a few minor tweaks to discuss, but overall, the response was overwhelmingly positive.”

Relief floods through you, mixing with a spark of pride. You fought for this version of the story, for your vision, and it paid off.

“Basically, we just want to confirm some plot details and fix potential inconsistencies, and then you’re free to finish writing. The sooner, the better, I might add,” your agent says with a knowing wink, her subtle way of saying she’s proud of you for standing your ground.

You blink, still processing. “So, just to make sure I’m hearing this right… you don’t want me to scrap the chapters and start over?”

“Of course not,” the editor reassures you. “Based on early reviewer notes, we strongly believe sales will surpass expectations.”

She slides a thick stack of papers across the table. It’s filled with feedback, page after page of praise from the test readers.

Your heart pounds as you skim the first note.

If you thought the first book was otherworldly, you’re in for a big surprise with this one. The characters have grown so much, and I truly felt like I was right there in the fight with them.

Another one reads:

I can’t wait for this to be released so I can buy several copies. So dang good.

You exhale sharply, overwhelmed. Looking up, you find a room full of expectant gazes, waiting for your reaction.

“Wow, I—uh.” You shake your head, speechless. “Wow.”

The team chuckles, clearly pleased.

“We figured you’d like to read those,” your agent says warmly. “Feel free to take them home.”

You nod, gripping the papers a little tighter as if they might disappear.

“How about we go through our questions now and then leave you to it?”

You square your shoulders, a fresh wave of determination surging through you. “Sounds good.”

This is really happening.

…

Seungcheol sits on the park bench, one arm draped over the backrest as he scans the path for you. Mika sits obediently at his feet, tail thumping against the ground every so often as she watches the world go by.

He wasn’t expecting your message earlier. After your last conversation at the fire station, he figured you needed space, maybe even a clean break. But when you said you needed help, he didn’t hesitate to figure out what he could do. He would’ve done just about anything.

Watching Mika on his day off hardly counted as a favor. Plus, even if he had been working today, he would’ve just taken her to the station. The guys all love dogs and Mika? She’d eat up the attention.

Then, finally, he sees you.

You’re walking toward him with a bounce in your step, that breathtaking smile stretching across your face. His heart clenches at the sight, he hasn’t seen you like this in a while.

“Hey,” he says, standing up as you approach. “How’d the meeting go?”

Before he can react, you launch yourself into his arms.

He barely has a second to process before instinct kicks in. His arms wrap around you securely, lifting you off the ground like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of you, the way you fit so perfectly in his hold, it makes his chest ache.

“It went so well! Oh my god,” you gush, your excitement bubbling over. “They gave the rough draft to some readers, and they all loved it!”

Your arms tighten around his neck, and he holds you just a little closer, just a little longer, savoring the moment as long as it will last.

“Of course they loved it,” he says, setting you down gently once you finally loosen your grip. His hands linger for just a second longer than necessary, as if reluctant to let go.

Mika, not one to be left out, jumps up against your leg, her little paws pressing insistently as if demanding her fair share of attention. You laugh, bending down to scratch behind her ears before turning back to Seungcheol.

“Thanks again for helping out,” you say, sincerity laced in every word. “I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Anytime,” he replies easily, then adds with a smile, “I missed my girls.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest. You hesitate for a second before asking, “Can I ask you something?”

He nods, giving you his full attention.

“That thing you said the other day—about not being sure what you wanted and not wanting to drag me into it—was that just in general? Like, you weren’t sure about anything in your life? Or were you talking about a relationship specifically?”

His eyebrows raise slightly, clearly impressed by your directness. Then he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Damn, woman. Straight to the point,” he teases, picking up Mika’s leash in one hand. With the other, he reaches for yours, intertwining your fingers effortlessly as the two of you start walking out of the park.

He takes a breath, carefully choosing his words. “At first, I thought it would be better if we just stayed friends,” he admits. “I told myself it’d be easier that way. Safer for the both of us.”

A pause. A small squeeze to your hand.

“But the more I’m around you, the more I realize that’s impossible. I’m so unbelievably attracted to you. And it’s not just that, you see me. And honestly?” He turns to look at you with a knowing smile, his voice dropping into something softer, more certain.

“The thought of you going on more dates with losers who don’t deserve you makes me want to throw hands.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, sending a shiver up your spine. “Especially when we both know I’m the only one for you.”

He hadn’t exactly planned on being that brutally honest, but if you were going to be vulnerable with that direct of a question, the least he could do was return the favor.

Because the truth is, he knows he’s the only one for you. Just like you’re the only one for him.

“Does hearing me say that freak you out?” he asks, searching your expression, hoping you’re not about to bolt.

“No.” You shake your head, exhaling softly. “Actually, it’s relieving to hear.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “I think I’d probably go a little crazy if you started seeing someone else too. I don’t like the idea of you being the hero in someone else’s story.”

His chest tightens, something warm and fierce settling in his ribs.

You reach your apartment building and climb the steps to the front door before turning to face him. “This is me.”

He nods, glancing at Mika, who wags her tail happily.

“Do you want to come up?”

“Just to let Mika inside,” he starts, but then hesitates, shifting on his feet. He rubs the back of his neck before meeting your gaze. “I know it’s last minute, but…I’d love to have dinner with you. Unless you already have plans tonight?”

Hope flickers in his eyes, cautious but steady, and suddenly, you know exactly what your answer is.

“Are you asking me on a date?” you tease, unlocking your door with a growing smile.

Mika bolts inside, immediately rummaging through her toys before dragging her favorite one onto her bed.

“Yes,” Seungcheol confirms without hesitation, shutting the door behind him. His eyes scan your apartment; it’s cozy, well-kept yet lived-in, aside from Mika’s spilled toy bin. It’s very you.

Your smile grows even bigger. “Okay, wait here. I’ll just be a minute.”

You disappear into your bedroom, and when you return, you have a cardigan draped over your arm. “Just in case it gets cold later.”

But before he can respond, you close the space between you and press your lips to his.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that since you came to save me earlier today,” you confess against his mouth.

His hands find your waist as he pulls you in for another, this time deeper, slower, and time stops. Nothing else exists in this moment.

His lips move against yours in a way that leaves you breathless, your fingers curling into his shirt to keep yourself upright.

When he finally breaks away, his forehead rests lightly against yours, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“C’mon,” he says, voice low and warm, “I know a great sushi place.”

Dinner feels easy, like slipping back into something familiar yet exciting. The conversation flows effortlessly as you both catch up.

Seungcheol tells you about his week, most of it spent training, pushing himself harder than ever. “The meeting with the therapist was the last step so I could start going on calls with the team,” he explains, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve missed the action. The change in pace will be good for me.”

You nod, genuinely happy for him. “That’s great, Cheol. I can tell you’re excited.”

“I am,” he admits, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s been a long time coming.”

You take a sip of your drink before offering your own update. “Kate and Jun came home earlier than expected,” you tell him, watching his reaction. “And, uh… Kate might hate you just a little bit.”

His grin falters slightly. “Yeah…she might have sent me a rather interesting text about personally castrating me the next time she sees me if I haven’t apologized to you before she finds me.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “Don’t worry, I told her I was already working on a plan to win you back.”

“Oh? And what’s the plan?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Can’t spoil the surprise,” he teases. “But let’s just say it involves a lot of groveling.”

You laugh, then add, “Well, don’t forget about Mika. You have to make it up to her too.”

He leans back in his chair, smug. “Oh, Mika already forgave me. We shared some blueberries earlier while you were in your meeting.”

Your mouth falls open in mock betrayal. “She never shares her blueberries with me.”

“What can I say?” He smirks, shrugging. “She and I have an understanding.”

“Unbelievable,” you huff, though the amused smile on your lips betrays your true feelings. You love that he adores Mika just as much as she adores him.

A comfortable silence settles between you as you both focus on your meals. The restaurant hums with the growing chatter of other diners, the clinking of glasses adding to the cozy atmosphere. The food is delicious, and the company is even better.

You take a sip of your drink, gathering your thoughts before speaking. “So, I have another question for you.”

Seungcheol lifts his gaze, his eyes warm with curiosity as he picks up another bite. He gives you a small nod, silently encouraging you to continue.

“As you might have figured out by now, I’m the kind of person who needs clarity. If I don’t have all the details, my brain starts filling in the gaps, and that never ends well.” You exhale, rolling your drink between your hands. “I also know it’s probably way too soon to bring this up, but if I don’t, I’ll overthink it until I drive myself crazy.”

Seungcheol finishes chewing, setting his chopsticks down as he leans forward slightly, giving you his full attention. “First of all, you don’t have to hesitate to ask me anything,” he says, voice steady. “I’d rather talk things through than have you overthink and stress yourself out.”

His words soothe some of your nerves, but the anticipation is still there.

Seungcheol tilts his head, his expression soft but attentive. “What’s on your mind?” he asks, picking up on your nervous energy.

You sign, then take the plunge. “Are we…dating now? Or starting a relationship?”

His brows furrow slightly. “Is there a difference?” he asks, genuinely curious.

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “I mean…yeah, kind of? But I guess it depends on who you ask. Some people see dating as casual, while a relationship is more serious. I just—” you pause, suddenly aware that you’re rambling. “I don’t need some big, grand definition. I just want to know where your head is at. About us.”

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you feel your chest tighten. The ‘what are we’ conversation has never gone well in your past relationships, and despite how comfortable Seungcheol makes you feel, the fear of rejection still lingers.

He exhales through his nose, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know much about modern dating labels, but if going on dates, wanting to kiss you all the time, and spending as much of my free time in your presence as possible means that we’re dating, then yeah, we’re dating.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“But more than that,” he continues, his eyes never leaving yours, “I want us to be something real. I don’t want to waste time playing guessing games or pretending we’re something we’re not. So if you’re asking whether we’re in a relationship?” He tilts his head slightly, considering. “I’d say we’re at the beginning of one, if that’s what you want too.”

The knot in your stomach eases, replaced by something warm and fluttery. You don’t even try to hide the smile that breaks across your face.

“That’s how I feel too.”

“Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you go this time.” His grin mirrors yours, warm and full of certainty. Then, after a brief pause, his expression turns just a touch more serious. “Actually, I have a question for you in return.”

You lift your eyes and meet his, intrigued. “Yeah?”

He leans in slightly, his eyes staying locked onto yours. “Will you be my girlfriend? Officially.”

Your heart stumbles over itself.

“I’m asking because I take this seriously. And also,” his lips twitch into a smirk, “so that pretty little brain of yours doesn’t fry.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips gives you away.

“Well?” He lifts a brow, waiting.

You don’t need to think twice. “Yes, Cheoliepop. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

His smirk softens into something sweeter, filled with sincerity and promise. "Good," he says, voice low and warm. But then, his expression shifts as his pocket vibrates. He pulls out his phone, his eyes flicking to the screen. "Shit," he mutters under his breath.

He looks up at you, his face tinged with regret. "Sorry, that’s my pager app for the station."

You raise an eyebrow, already knowing what’s coming. "Gotta go?"

"Yeah," he exhales, frustration flickering in his eyes. "I’m really sorry, but I have to head out now. They need a lot of extra hands. Can I call you later?"

You smile, trying to hide the slight pang of disappointment. "It’s okay, really. And yes, please do."

Standing up, he leans down and presses a quick kiss to your lips before pulling away. He takes a wad of cash out of his wallet and leaves it on the table.

"That’s not necessary," you protest, shaking your head. "I’ve got it, go save the day, or night, whatever."

He shoots you a look that says, don't even think about it and shakes his head. "My girl never pays," he says firmly, his grin returning. "Bye, baby."

With a wink, he heads out, leaving you to watch him go, your heart doing a little flutter at the way he treats you.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Mingyu teases as Seungcheol rushes into the locker room, pulling on his gear with impressive speed.

"It’s been 8 minutes since I got paged," Seungcheol shoots back, his voice laced with amusement. "I think that’s pretty damn good, considering." He quickly straps on his helmet. "First one already leave?"

"Yeah, Engine 13 rolled out a few minutes ago. We’re just waiting on Wonwoo and the Rookie. None of us were supposed to be on call tonight, but a shopping center across the city has an unnoticed gas leak that’s now a full-on blaze. Two other stations are already there and called for backup."

Seungcheol nods, tugging the zipper of his overalls up and stepping into his boots. His focus sharpens as he prepares himself mentally for what’s to come.

“There you are,” Mingyu says, pointing at Wonwoo and Vernon as they practically sprint to their lockers.

Yunho, one of the station’s firefighter engineers, whistles as the last of them gear up. "Let’s move, crew!"

Within moments, everyone loads up into the truck. The sirens blare to life as they race toward the fire, the adrenaline already kicking in.

"You haven’t stopped smiling since I got here tonight," Vernon observes, squinting as the red hue from the flashing lights dances across his face. "Just that happy to see me again so soon, or because you finally got cleared earlier today?"

"You wish," Seungcheol teases, bumping his shoulder against Vernon’s, who’s sitting next to him.

Wonwoo tilts his head; thinking as he reads, and recognizes, Seungcheol’s face. "Who is she?"

"Who’s who?" Seungcheol asks, his grin betraying him, making it impossible to hide the obvious answer.

Mingyu laughs, pointing a finger at Seungcheol. "It’s the girl he brought here after she slipped on the ice, right?"

"Ahhh," Wonwoo says with a knowing look, "I thought I sensed something there."

"Yeah, well, we made it official tonight," Seungcheol admits, the satisfaction clear in his voice.

Mingyu kicks Seungcheol’s boot with a grin. "Good for you, man. You deserve to be happy."

Seungcheol smiles, grateful for the support, but his focus shifts as the fire engine pulls up to the scene.

The building is ablaze. Flames roar up to the sky, swallowing the structure whole.

Their fire chief, already standing with personnel from the other stations, breaks away from the group and heads toward the newly arrived team. He quickly briefs the firefighters, his voice steady despite the chaos unfolding in front of them. Seungcheol’s focus sharpens as he steps forward, ready to jump into action.

"Everyone who was scheduled to work tonight has been accounted for," the fire chief announces, his voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around them. He surveys the scene, the flames still raging high, a testament to the severity of the situation. "The only concern we have now is a potential person who might’ve been waiting on a delivery out back. We have no confirmation, but it’s a possibility. There's a service entrance on the south side of the building, and I want two of you there to check it out immediately."

Seungcheol stands at attention, nodding as he quickly glances at Mingyu and the others. "I’ll go," he volunteers, already moving toward the south side.

"I’ll go with you," Mingyu replies without hesitation, catching up to him as they head for the back of the building.

The chief doesn’t waste time. "The rest of you, let's join the others and focus on knocking down these flames from the front. We need to contain the fire before it spreads further. Get in there and hit it hard."

"Got it, Chief," Wonwoo responds, his voice firm but calm. He slaps his gloves together, ready to move. Vernon, standing beside him, gives a quick thumbs-up, and the pair heads toward the front of the building, their steps steady and synchronized.

The team moves quickly, and efficiently, their skills are evident in every step they take. Seungcheol can feel the adrenaline surge through him as he secures his face mask, the weight of it grounding him, bringing clarity amidst the chaos. The sirens blare in the background, but his focus is on the building ahead; the flames, the smoke, the crackling heat that pulsates from the structure.

As Seungcheol and Mingyu move further into the danger zone, the heat begins to creep toward them as they reach the service door. Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate to get it open. He kicks it a few times, the metal groaning under the force, and they step inside, immediately hit by a fresh wall of heat and smoke.

The air is thick, stinging with the mixed smell of burning wood, plastic, and metal. Seungcheol’s vision blurs from the smoke, but the fire-resistant gear does its job. His breathing is steady, his focus unbroken. There’s no time for hesitation, no space for doubt. He’s seen fires like this before, and the weight of each decision bears down on him as he forces his body to move faster, his senses heightened to every crackle and shift in the air around him.

"We need to check every side room back here," Mingyu says, his voice low but urgent as they near the entrance. "Make sure if anyone's in there, they know we’re here."

Seungcheol nods, motioning for Mingyu to follow. They’re already scanning for signs of life, flashes of movement, any indication that someone might still be inside. They move swiftly through the dimly lit back hallway, their flashlights piercing the smoke. Each door they pass is carefully checked.

"Nothing yet," Seungcheol mutters, though he can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. The building creaks ominously, and the heat intensifies as they round the corner.

Mingyu splits off, his figure disappearing into the haze of smoke. Seungcheol’s heartbeat quickens. He knows the risks; fire, smoke inhalation, the unpredictability of a building on the verge of collapse. But this is what he’s trained for.

As he moves deeper into the building, he calls out, "Hello? Is anyone in here? We’re here to help!"

Suddenly, a muffled noise, like someone’s cough, pierces through the roar of the fire. Seungcheol’s heart races.

It sounds like it's coming from the storage room ahead. He quickens his pace, adrenaline surging as he approaches the door to the storage room. It’s slightly ajar, and the sound of coughing grows louder.

"Hello?" Seungcheol calls out, his voice firm, commanding.

A faint reply, weak but unmistakable, echoes back. "Help… please."

The heat intensifies, but he pushes forward, moving debris out of his way. His flashlight cuts through the darkness, landing on shattered glass, scorched furniture, and the faintest outline of a figure near an overturned file cabinet. His pulse spikes.

"Mingyu! I’ve got someone!" Seungcheol shouts into his radio, and then yells out, "Over here!"

Mingyu’s voice crackles through the radio, "Copy that. I’m on my way."

As he gets closer, Seungcheol sees that the person is covered in dust and soot, struggling to breathe. Seungcheol’s heart lurches, but he doesn’t waste time.

He rushes toward the figure, carefully lifting them into his arms, feeling the weight of the person’s body. It’s a woman, unconscious but breathing, her skin warm but not burned. He calls out again, voice urgent, but steady.

“Mingyu, she’s alive! I’m getting her out!"

"Got you," Mingyu replies, quickly appearing from the smoke like a shadow, ready to help. He moves to the other side of her, offering his shoulder for support.

Together, they move swiftly, holding the woman between them as they maneuver through the building, dodging debris that falls from above. The sound of the fire crackling is deafening now, but they don’t stop. There’s no time to waste.

As they approach the door, Seungcheol hears the loud, alarming sound of the building creaking, and the ground shifts beneath his feet. The structure is weakening.

"We need to get out now!" Mingyu says, his voice sharp.

They make it outside just as the first signs of the building’s collapse start to echo through the air. The woman is handed off to the paramedics waiting outside with a stretcher. Seungcheol takes a deep breath, grateful that they made it out in time.

"Nice work, Cheol," Mingyu says with a grin, his voice filled with relief.

Seungcheol nods, wiping sweat from his brow, though it’s hard to tell if it’s from the heat of the fire or the weight of the mission. Despite the exhaustion, there’s a quiet pride in Seungcheol’s chest. She’s alive.

The team is still working at the front, battling the flames as the building begins to crumble. Seungcheol and Mingyu make their way back, and the fire chief nods in approval. Seungcheol lets out a long breath, his body still humming with adrenaline.

“Good work,” the chief says, clapping him on the shoulder. “You guys did great.”

Seungcheol doesn’t have time for celebration. His eyes are already scanning the burning building, making sure his team is safe and the fire is under control.

But as the flames begin to die down, and the last of the smoke starts to clear, Seungcheol allows himself a brief moment of relief. They’ve done their job. They’ve saved a life tonight. And that’s what matters most.

“Can we get a table on the patio? It’s too nice to be stuck inside,” Kate asks the hostess as you both approach the cute, bistro-style restaurant. The woman nods with a polite smile, grabbing two menus before leading you to a cozy table in the fenced-in patio area.

The space is adorned with string lights and various colored potted plants, offering the perfect blend of a trendy atmosphere and eclectic style. From here, you have a prime view of the street, ideal for people watching as pedestrians stroll past, some lost in conversation, others in a hurry.

“This was a great idea,” you say as you settle into your chair. “I’m starving.”

Kate grins, flipping open her menu. “I’m just glad you were free for lunch today. Feels like we’ve barely had time to breathe since getting back.” She sighs, leaning back slightly. “I can’t believe it’s already been almost a month since the heart attack. It feels like everything’s been stuck on fast-forward.”

You nod, completely understanding where she’s coming from. It’s been a nonstop whirlwind since everything happened. It’s nice to take a break and relax, even if it’s just for an hour.

The waitress arrives with two glasses of water, the condensation beading along the sides as she sets them down. “Are you ready to order?” she asks with a friendly smile.

After quickly scanning the menu one last time, you both place your orders, opting for fresh, light dishes that match the warm afternoon. The waitress jots everything down before disappearing inside, leaving you and Kate to continue your conversation.

Your talk meanders effortlessly from one topic to the next; updates on work, the latest drama in your friend group, and Kate’s lingering frustration over unpacking all her things after getting home. It’s easy, natural, the way it always is with her.

When the food finally arrives, Kate practically beams. “God, this looks divine,” she says, wasting no time in picking up her sandwich and taking a big bite. Her eyes flutter shut briefly in appreciation before she gives you a satisfied nod of approval.

You both fall into a comfortable silence as you eat, occasionally breaking it to point out stylish outfits worn by pedestrians passing by. For the first time in a while, life is going pretty well.

Excuse yourself for a bathroom visit, you make your way inside, relieved to find no line. After washing your hands and taking a deep breath, you head back toward the patio, ready to enjoy the rest of your lunch.

Just as you step outside, a tall figure moves in front of you, blocking your path. You stop short, and as you lift a hand to shield your eyes from the sun, your stomach twists with recognition.

Daniel. Your ex.

“Hi,” he greets smoothly, a smile on his lips. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

You arch a brow, unimpressed. “Wish I could say the same,” you deadpan, stepping to the side in an attempt to move past him.

He shifts just as quickly, blocking you again.

From your table, Kate catches sight of the interaction, her expression hardening as she starts to push back her chair. You give her a quick shake of your head, silently telling her you’ve got this.

She hesitates but stays put, eyes locked on Daniel like she’s already planning how to rip into him if he tries anything.

“About?” You scoff, already exasperated. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

He exhales like he’s been rehearsing this moment. “I miss you. I wish things could go back to how they were.”

A humorless laugh escapes you. “Oh, you mean when I was blissfully unaware of your cheating? When I spent a week crying after I caught you? Yeah, no thanks. I think I’ve wasted enough time on you.”

You shift your gaze away, your patience wearing thin. That’s when you spot a familiar figure across the street, broad shoulders and that confident stride you’d recognize anywhere.

Seungcheol.

He’s just stepped out of an apartment complex, following a couple of other firemen. As if he can feel your eyes on him, his head lifts, scanning the area. The second he spots you, a smile tugs at his lips. You wave, instantly tuning out whatever nonsense Daniel is still rambling about.

Seungcheol’s smile falters as his eyes flick to the man standing a little too close to you. His jaw ticks, his easy going demeanor shifting into something more guarded. He doesn’t like it.

It doesn’t take a genius to pick up on the tension; your standoffish stance, Daniel’s pleading expression. Seungcheol can tell there’s history there, and though he trusts you, a flicker of jealousy ignites in his chest.

Without hesitation, he starts making his way over.

“Hi, baby,” Seungcheol grins, leaning over the short patio fence to kiss you. He’ll admit he might have lingered a little longer than necessary, just to make a point. A point that says, She’s taken. Move along.

His lips press firmly against yours, warm and sure, the faint scent of smoke clinging to his uniform. It’s familiar, comforting. When you finally pull back, you glance around only to realize Daniel is gone. Good.

Seungcheol follows your gaze, catching sight of your ex retreating into the restaurant. His brow lifts in silent question, but he doesn’t push. He knows you’ll tell him if it matters.

Instead, he asks. “Can I come over later?”

“Sure,” you muse, tilting your head with a playful smirk. “But only if you bring dinner. I’ll take care of dessert.” Your voice is light, but the meaning behind your words is unmistakable, the teasing glint in your eyes makes sure of that.

Seungcheol’s gaze darkens just a fraction, his smirk growing. “Dangerous offer, baby,” he murmurs, voice dipping low enough that only you can hear. “Deal.”

Kate clears her throat, dragging his attention away from you. He finally acknowledges her with a lazy grin. “Hi, Kate. Bye, Kate.”

She waves, practically buzzing with amusement. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just here for the entertainment. Five stars, by the way.”

The firetruck rounds the corner from where it must’ve been parked, sirens off but lights still flashing. Mingyu leans halfway out of the passenger-side window, grinning like he just caught Seungcheol red-handed.

“Come on, lover boy! We’ve got another call!” he shouts, his voice carrying across the street.

Seungcheol huffs a laugh, shaking his head before turning back to you. “Guess I gotta go,” he says, brushing his thumb over your cheek before pressing a quick, lingering kiss to your lips.

“Stay safe,” you murmur, already missing him.

“Always.” He flashes you one last smile before jogging toward the truck and hopping in. The moment the door shuts, Mingyu wiggles his eyebrows at him, and the truck pulls away, leaving you standing there with a racing heart and a silly smile.

Seungcheol shows up at your doorstep with burgers and fries, the scent of crispy, salty goodness filling the air. Your plan for the night had been simple; share dinner, maybe find a movie to watch, and ease into the evening.

But the second you see him, every ounce of restraint flies out the window. His white tee hugs his broad chest, jeans slung low on his hips, and hair slightly tousled from the night air.

You barely give him a chance to say hello before grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him inside, your lips finding his the moment the door clicks shut. He lets out a surprised chuckle, but quickly recovers, kissing you back with just as much urgency.

The forgotten bag of food lands on the table as he wraps his arms around you, allowing you to guide him toward the bedroom. The second the back of his knees hit the mattress, he pulls you down with him, flipping you underneath him with ease.

“So much for dinner,” he murmurs against your lips, grinning.

You tug him closer, breathless. “You can have me first. Then the burger.”

Luckily, he feels the same way. This moment is long overdue.

Seungcheol’s hands explore your body with a slow, tantalizing touch. His fingers trailing over your skin as he eases your shirt over your head. His gaze darkens with desire as he drinks you in before shrugging off his shirt, revealing the sculpted muscles you adore.

Your hands find his broad shoulders, pressing against the firm warmth of his skin. He shivers under your touch, his breath hitching as your fingers trace over the hard lines of his body, mapping every ridge and dip like you want to memorize him.

He rolls his hips into yours, his voice thick with want. “Tell me what you need, baby, and I’ll give you exactly that.”

Your breath hitches as heat pools low in your stomach. “I want you to kiss me,” you murmur, guiding his hand lower before whispering, “here.”

His darkened eyes flick up to yours, lips curving into a knowing smirk. “My pleasure.”

He tugs your pants down with ease, eyes darkening when he sees the damp spot already forming on your panties. His fingers trace over the fabric, teasing, before applying the slightest pressure. The friction makes you gasp, your body arching toward him on instinct.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “You want me to taste you that bad?”

Your desperate nod is all the encouragement he needs. Hooking his fingers around your panties, he slides them down, groaning at the sight of you bare beneath him.

“Fuck,” he exhales, pressing a lingering kiss to your inner thigh before dragging his tongue slowly up your slit. The first stroke makes you shudder, a whimper past your lips.

He hums against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. “So perfect,” he praises, spreading you open. His tongue works expertly, flicking, circling, teasing. The pressure of his nose against your clit makes your thighs tremble as he devours you like he was made for this.

Your fingers clutch at the sheets, your back arching as pleasure coils tighter and tighter. “God, that feels so good, Cheol,” you moan, thighs threatening to clamp around his head.

But he doesn’t let up. Not when he knows you’re close, not when he’s determined to make you unravel beneath him, again and again.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against you. The vibration sends a jolt through your body, and you can’t hold back the broken moan that escapes your lips. Your hips roll against his mouth, desperate, chasing the pleasure that’s building so intensely it’s almost unbearable.

And then, pure, white-hot bliss. The coil inside you snaps, pleasure rippling through your body like a shockwave. Your thighs tremble, your back arches, and his name spills from your lips like a prayer.

But Seungcheol isn’t done.

He holds you in place, hands gripping your hips as his tongue continues its merciless assault. He’s ravenous, devouring every wave, every twitch of your body, every moan that falls from your parted lips.

It’s overwhelming, too much. But somehow not enough, and just as you try to catch your breath, another orgasm crashes over you, even more intense than the last. Your body clenches, vision goes dark for a moment as you cry out his name. “Seungcheol!” you gasp, your voice wrecked from pleasure.

When you finally go limp, your body spent and trembling, Seungcheol presses one last kiss against your inner thigh before resting his head there. His dark eyes flick up to yours, filled with emotion. His nose and chin glistening with your release as he smirks, his voice husky and dripping with satisfaction.

“You’re unreal.”

He leans up, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep and intoxicating that it leaves you breathless. The taste of yourself lingers on his tongue, only adding to the fire burning between you. Arousal thrums through your veins as you reach between your bodies, palming his stiff length through the rough denim. The heat of him, even through the fabric, makes you ache with need.

“My turn,” you purr, pushing him back until he’s sitting up, your mouth watering at the thought of taking him deep.

But Seungcheol only grins, dark and full of mischief, before flipping you effortlessly onto your back again, caging you beneath him. “Nuh-uh,” he teases, his voice low and dripping with promise. “Tonight is all about you. I’ve got some making up to do, remember?”

His lips find yours once more, kissing you slow and deep before trailing down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, leaving a scorching path in his wake. When he reaches your chest, his hands skillfully slip behind your back, unhooking your bra in one smooth motion.

He groans as your bare skin is finally revealed to him, his gaze darkening with hunger. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs before taking one of your hardened peaks into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue swirls around you, sucking just enough to make you arch into him, a needy whimper escaping your lips.

His free hand slides down your waist, fingertips dancing over your skin as he worships you, intent on unraveling you piece by piece.

You grab his arm just before his fingers can slip between your legs, your grip tight, your breathing uneven. “As much as I’d love to feel your fingers there,” you pant, your voice desperate, “I need your cock in me before I lose my mind.”

Seungcheol hesitates, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. His mouth opens, as if he’s about to protest, but you don’t give him the chance.

“Please, Seungcheol,” you plead, your voice dripping with need. “Fuck me. I need you so bad. I’m going crazy.”

His grin is slow and teasing, his dark eyes flickering with amusement and pure desire. “You’re supposed to make me work for it,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over yours, savoring your impatience.

“Fuck that,” you whimper, your hands already undoing his pants, shoving them down his hips with urgency. “I already know it’s going to be so good, and I can’t wait any longer. I’ve needed you since that night in the hot tub. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

Your confession makes his cock throb painfully. The memory of that night, your soaked skin, the way you had looked at him, only fueling his desire. He swears under his breath, his hands gripping your thighs as he positions himself between them.

He strokes himself twice, eyes never leaving yours, drinking in the way you shudder with anticipation beneath him. “I’ve needed you since then too,” he groans, dragging the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing you just for a second longer.

Then, without further hesitation, he thrusts into you, burying himself in one deep, slow stroke.

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he groans, voice rough, his forehead pressing against yours as your walls clench around him. "I promise."

“You stretch me so fucking good, oh my god,” you moan, your head tilting back against the pillows as he pulls out just enough to slam back into you, filling you to the hilt.

Seungcheol groans, the sound guttural, his jaw tightening as he watches the way your body takes him so perfectly. So tight, so wet, so fucking perfect. His hands roam over your curves before gripping your hips, using them as leverage to thrust even deeper.

The flames between you grow hotter, consuming you both as your bodies move in perfect sync like you were made for this, made for each other.

His breathing is heavy, lips brushing against your jaw before he captures your wrists in one strong hand, pinning them above your head against the mattress. “Hold still for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with command and lust.

You whimper at the sudden control, your walls clenching around him in response. “Fuck,” he hisses, his grip tightening just slightly as his hips snap against yours with increasing intensity.

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, your body arching beneath him. The slick sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, mixing with the symphony of your moans and his groans.

His free hand trails down your body, his fingertips ghosting over your skin before pressing firmly against your clit, rubbing tight, deliberate circles.

“Cheol—” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure coils tight in your core, the tension threatening to snap at any moment.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasps, his lips brushing over your parted ones. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

Your body obeys his command, trembling as pleasure surges through you. Your walls tighten around him, milking every inch of his cock as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. Seungcheol groans, his grip tightening on your wrists as he slows his thrusts, guiding you through the aftershocks, keeping you grounded while you catch your breath.

He watches you, completely wrecked beneath him, your body glowing with satisfaction, your chest rising and falling with each shaky inhale. And yet, the way your eyes meet his, filled with hunger, tells him you're not done.

“Come in me,” you whisper, voice dripping with desperation, fingers curling into his biceps. “I’m all yours to claim.”

His body tenses at your words, his restraint snapping like a rubber band stretched too thin. A deep groan rumbles in his chest as he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself inside you. The heat of his release floods through your center, your walls fluttering around him as he spills every drop.

He collapses over you, supporting his weight on his forearms, pressing his forehead against yours as he tries to steady his breath. A satisfied smirk tugs at his lips as he leans in, deeply kissing you.

“Mine,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough, possessive.

You hum in agreement, running your fingers through his damp hair. “Yours.”

You lay there together, limbs tangled, basking in the lingering warmth of each other's bodies. The room is thick with the scent of sweat and satisfaction. And the rhythmic rise and fall of your breathing is the only sound filling the quiet. Seungcheol presses a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, pouring unspoken emotions into it.

Eventually, he pulls away with a soft sigh and sits up, running a hand through his messy hair. He disappears into your bathroom and returns with a warm washcloth, kneeling between your legs. His touch is gentle as he cleans you up, his brows furrowed in concentration as he carefully wipes away his release spilling from your folds, making sure you’re comfortable before tending to himself.

You watch him, your heart swelling at the quiet intimacy of it all.

When he’s finished, you sit up slowly, a blissed-out smile stretching across your face. “That,” you begin, “Was so worth the wait.”

He chuckles, tossing the washcloth aside. “Glad to know I met expectations.”

“Please,” you snort, standing to grab a clean pair of panties. You swipe his discarded t-shirt off the floor and throw it on, the hem skimming your upper thighs. “You surpassed every single one.”

Seungcheol smirks, eyes trailing your frame as you move around the room. You catch his gaze and raise a brow. “What?”

“Nothing,” he muses, leaning back on his hands. “Just admiring the view.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you grab his hand and tug him toward the kitchen. “Come on, I need a french fry in my life. You wanna eat out here, or should I bring it back to bed?”

“You can’t eat in bed,” he scolds lightly.

You shrug. “I do it all the time.”

He shakes his head but follows you out anyway, pulling his boxers back on.

Once the burgers and fries are plated, you both settle on the couch. You hand him a plate before digging in, barely pausing between bites. Seungcheol watches you with amusement, but when you’re not looking, he sneakily drops a fry down for Mika, who’s curled up in her favorite blanket. The pup wags her tail and happily munches on her secret treat.

“Post-sex burgers kinda slap, I’m not gonna lie,” you say, taking another big bite.

Seungcheol doesn’t respond right away, too busy watching you with an expression so soft it borders on devastating. He knows he’s in deep, he has been since the moment he met you. Loving you this much is dangerous, but fuck, it’s so worth the inevitable heartache and future pain he’s setting himself up for.

The following morning, Seungcheol stirs awake at the faint rustling of movement beside him. Still half-asleep, he instinctively reaches out to pull you back into his arms. It’s way too early to be getting up, but his hands find empty sheets. His brows furrow as he cracks his eyes open, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.

You're standing by the dresser, slipping on a pair of leggings, your hair thrown up into a clip.

“Good morning, Seungshine.”

His heart swells at the nickname, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “Mmm, morning. Going somewhere, gorgeous?” His deep, raspy morning voice sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Just a quick run to the pharmacy. I’ll be back in a few.” You lean down to press a lingering kiss to his lips. “Don’t get up.”

He hums against your lips but narrows his eyes in suspicion. “What for?”

You straighten, grinning. “Well, if you recall, we ended the night with a big bang, no puns intended. But I don’t take my birth control as consistently as I should, so just to be safe, I’m grabbing a Plan B.”

The realization hits him like a freight train. His eyes widen as he sits up abruptly, pushing the covers off. “Shit—I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think to ask last night.” He scrambles for his jeans. “I’ll come with you—and I’m paying for it. Obviously.”

You chuckle at his flustered state, shaking your head. “Cheol, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he insists, standing and pulling his jeans on. “That should’ve been a conversation before we went at it like animals.” He runs a hand across his face, exhaling sharply. “I feel like an asshole.”

You step closer, moving his hands to cup his face in yours. “You’re not an asshole. We got caught up in the moment, it happens. But we’re handling it now, and that’s what matters.”

He studies you for a moment before sighing, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Still. I wanna come with you.”

You arch a brow. “You sure you wanna be seen in public, bright and early, in the pharmacy aisle buying Plan B?”

He deadpans, “I’m a firefighter, babe. I run into burning buildings for a living. You think I’m scared of the contraceptive aisle?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Fair enough, but you really don’t need to come. I begged for it. And, honestly? I’d beg you to come inside me again because that was so fucking hot.” You give him a teasing grin before adding, “But yeah, just to be safe, I’ll pick one up. Don’t worry, babe.” You flash him a reassuring smile. And the truth is, you’re not upset about it. Shit happens. You wouldn’t change a thing about last night.

But Seungcheol’s face softens with concern, and he shakes his head. “It’s not right, no. If I wasn’t in such a rush last night, I would’ve remembered the condoms in my wallet. But I didn’t, so I’m gonna take care of this and fix it.” His voice carries a mix of guilt and determination, and you can see it’s eating him up inside.

You gently touch his arm, trying to ease his frustration. “Cheol, seriously. There’s nothing to fix. It’s okay.”

His jaw tightens, frustration falling across his features. The sound of him exhaling sharply fills the room. He feels like he’s messed up, and it’s killing him. But then, seeing the look on your face, he softens, his anger shifting to self-recrimination. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. I don’t mean to argue. I’m just frustrated with myself. I should’ve used protection, that won’t happen again.”

You step closer, wrapping your arms around him, feeling his stiffened posture. He doesn’t immediately return the hug, his muscles tight with guilt.

“Cheol, get out of your head,” you say softly, your fingers brushing against his back. “We’re good. I’m not mad at you. Please don’t do this to yourself.”

He exhales slowly, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Sorry,” he breathes out, his voice full of self-disappointment. “I don’t like messing up.” He pulls away slightly, looking at you with a half-hearted smile. “I’m gonna head to the gym and blow off some steam before my shift. Call me later?”

You nod, offering him a warm, understanding smile. “Of course.”

He gives you one last, lingering kiss on the forehead before grabbing his gym bag and heading for the door. His footsteps fade, but the weight of his thoughts lingers in the room. You just hope he knows that everything is okay.

…

Seungcheol arrives at the station early, eager to clear his mind with a good workout. As soon as he walks in, he spots Vernon already warming up, and they exchange a quick greeting before diving into their routines. Seungcheol starts with his usual heavy dumbbell reps, the weight feels almost too light as his mind drifts away from the frustration of earlier.

His focus sharpens as he moves onto sprints on the treadmill, feeling the burn in his legs, and finally finishes with some deadlifts. Each rep clears a bit more of the tension from his shoulders, his thoughts slowly settling into a rhythm.

It’s only when he checks his phone to switch the song playing through his headphones that his heart drops. There’s a text from you, simple and straightforward: Got the pill, already took it.

The frustration from earlier resurfaces instantly, a knot tightening in his chest. His jaw clenches as he finishes the last set of deadlifts, his mind whirring with thoughts of how to fix things, but also realizing that fixing things isn't always the solution.

“Dang, dude,” Vernon whistles from across the room, clearly noticing the shift in Seungcheol’s demeanor. “You look like you’re about to murder someone.”

Seungcheol lets out a frustrated breath, wiping his face with a towel before flinging it over his shoulder. “You could say that,” he mutters, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Y/N and I argued this morning. She wasn’t having it when I tried to fix something, solve a problem, whatever you wanna call it.”

Vernon raises an eyebrow, setting down his weights. “Oof. Sounds like you’ve met your match, man. Mr. Fix-It’s getting his ass handed to him by Miss Independent, huh?”

Seungcheol runs his hand across his neck, letting out a sigh of exasperation. “Yeah, and it’s infuriating sometimes. She’s clumsy by nature, which I absolutely adore, but she won’t ask for help, even when I offer. I don’t mind helping. I want to. If a problem arises I want to jump in and solve it. Hell, I’d love to do anything to make her day easier, but she just won’t let me. It drives me crazy. I’m trying to be a good boyfriend, but she’s just...so stubborn.”

Vernon chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s all women for you.”

Seungcheol shoots him a side-eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Vernon leans against the wall, looking over at him with a knowing smirk. “You’re learning the hard way. It’s like, no matter how much you want to help, they’ll still want to do it themselves. It’s part of the charm...and the frustration.”

Seungcheol snorts, running a hand through his hair again. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. It’s like she wants to carry the weight of the world herself, even if I’m standing right here, ready to take some of it.”

Vernon pats him on the back, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. “Dude, you’re gonna have to accept that. It’s just how it goes. Just try not to lose your mind over it. You’re not gonna win this one, so don’t let it eat you up.”

Seungcheol nods, letting the advice sink in. Maybe Vernon’s right, maybe this is just one of those things he has to let go of. But damn, it’s hard when all he wants to do is help, especially when he’s so used to fixing everything around him.

Your latest meeting with your publisher went better than you could’ve ever imagined. Over coffee downtown, she told you the great news: your editor approved the final draft of your novel, and it's officially being sent to the press.

In three months, thousands of copies will be printed, bound, and sent out to stores across the world. The feeling of seeing your work finally come to life is overwhelming, and you can't wait to share the news with Seungcheol.

You rush to the station, eager to surprise him. As soon as you walk in, you spot the sweet receptionist at her desk and flash her a bright smile.

“Hey, Y/N! Seungcheol’s in the garage.”

“Thanks!” you call back, your excitement bubbling up as you head toward the garage.

“Mika!” comes the familiar chorus of voices from the station’s crew. Everyone loves your husky, and she loves their attention. She prances around, soaking up the affection before running straight for Wonwoo, ready for a round of frisbee. He takes her out back, tossing the frisbee with a grin as she happily chases it down.

You walk into the garage just as Seungcheol is finishing up something on a truck. Before you can get his attention, he’s already spotted you. He moves swiftly, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind, pulling you against his chest. His lips find the spot just below your ear, planting a soft kiss there.

“What do I owe the pleasure?” he murmurs, his voice low and warm. “I didn’t think I’d see you until after I finished this 48-hour shift.”

You can’t help but laugh, the happiness of the moment bubbling out of you. “Well, I couldn’t wait to see you. I have some huge news!” You tilt your head to catch his gaze. His smile widens at the sound of your enthusiasm.

“What’s that?” he asks, clearly intrigued.

“The book’s officially being printed,” you say, the excitement rushing out in a stream of words. “They approved it, Seungcheol. In three months, it’ll be out in stores!”

Seungcheol freezes, his arms tightening around you as the realization sinks in. “No way.” His voice is filled with awe. “You did it, Y/N.” He turns you around, looking you in the eyes, a thrilled smile on his face. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You beam, feeling the weight of everything you’ve worked for finally come to fruition. His words only make it feel more real. “I couldn’t have done it without your support. You’re the one who told me to write for myself.”

He presses a quick kiss to your lips, his hands sliding down to rest at your waist. “So, what’s the next step? Are you gonna do a book tour or something?”

You shrug playfully. “I’m still figuring that part out, but for now, I just wanted to celebrate with you and share the news.”

His grin is sinful, full of mischief and raw desire. “Well, I think I know the perfect way to celebrate.”

Before you can ask what he means, Seungcheol takes your hand and tugs you between two fire trucks, tucking you into the dimly lit space where the shadows provide just enough secrecy. Your heart hammers in your chest as you take in his expression. His pupils are blown wide, his lips parted, his entire body practically radiating heat.

The second you’re in position, he crashes his lips to yours His hands grip your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you whimper against his mouth. He swallows the sound, deepening the kiss, tilting your head to take even more of you.

Then, using his pure strength, he lifts you effortlessly, pinning you against the cool, hard metal of the fire truck. You gasp at the contrast between his burning body and the icy steel. His hips press between your legs, and you can feel him, thick and heavy, even through the layers separating you.

“Fuck, I need you,” he groans, his voice rough with restraint.

Your head spins. “Here?” you whisper, glancing to the side, your nerves and excitement blending together.

He pulls back slightly, his breath fanning over your lips. “Only if you want to.”

God, it’s reckless. You could get caught. But something about the idea of Seungcheol taking you right here, in the middle of his workplace, with his crew just yards away, has arousal pooling between your thighs. It’s like a scene ripped straight from one of your books, and you can’t help but bite your lip, nodding frantically.

A slow, satisfied smirk spreads across his face. “That’s my girl.”

His hands slide under your skirt, fingers tracing the sensitive skin of your thighs before pushing the fabric up to bunch around your hips. You shiver in anticipation as he unzips his pants, the sound sharp in the quiet space. Your breath stutters when his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and tucking them into one of his pockets.

The cool air hits your damp heat before his fingers find you. He lets out a low curse. “So wet for me already.” His voice is pure sin, dripping with desire.

Then, he reaches into another zipper pocket, pulling out a small foil packet. He rips it open with his teeth, grinning as he rolls the condom onto his aching length.

“As wild and unpredictable as you are, I’ve learned my lesson.” His tone is teasing, but his eyes are dark. “So, I always keep a condom on hand. This is my surprise sex stash.” He taps the pocket he pulled it from.

A breathy laugh escapes you, the absurdity of it making your stomach flutter. “That’s so hot, but also so funny.”

He chuckles, “What can I say? I like to be prepared.” Your laughter quickly turns into soft mewls as he rubs his cock through your folds.

And then, without warning, he thrusts into you, stretching you perfectly, filling you in a way that has you gasping against his lips.

He grits his teeth, jaw clenched tight as he bottoms out inside you. His breath comes out in a ragged groan as he mutters, “Always a perfect fucking fit.” The praise sends a fresh wave of heat surging through you, your walls fluttering around him in response.

Then he starts to move. Hard, fast, relentless. His hips snap into yours with an intensity that has your head falling back against the truck, the metal vibrating with each powerful thrust. The pleasure is overwhelming, every nerve in your body is on fire, and you can do nothing but take it, your body molding to his as he fucks you into oblivion.

The sounds of your wetness mixed with his grunts echo dangerously in the garage, and a sudden thrill shoots through you at the realization of how exposed you are. Anyone could walk in. Any second now, someone could round the corner and—

A strangled moan tears from your lips, loud and uncontrollable.

Seungcheol reacts instantly, his free hand flying up to cover your mouth, muffling the desperate sounds threatening to give you away. His other hand remains firm on your waist, guiding your movements as he thrusts deeper, angling perfectly to brush against that sweet, devastating spot inside you.

“Shh, baby,” he rasps against your ear, voice thick with arousal and amusement. “Unless you want them to hear how good I’m fucking you.”

His words send a violent shudder through your body, your nails sinking into his shoulders as you cling to him. His pace only grows rougher, more desperate, like he needs to push you over the edge. And with the way his cock is slamming into you, dragging against your most sensitive spot with every stroke, you know you won’t last much longer.

Your muffled whimpers vibrate against his palm, your body trembling as that familiar coil tightens, winding impossibly tight.

“Fuck,” he grunts, thrusts growing erratic. “You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel you.”

You nod frantically, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the sheer pleasure. You’re right there, teetering on the edge, the tension in your core threatening to snap at any second.

And then—he thrusts particularly deep, his name slipping from your lips against his palm as you shatter around him, your entire body convulsing as pleasure washes over you in overwhelming waves.

Seungcheol tenses, a deep groan tearing from his throat as his release crashes over him. His hips stutter, pressing flush against you as he spills into the condom, his heart pounding wildly against his ribs.

His forehead rests against yours as he catches his breath, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “I swear, it’s better every time.” He kisses you, slow and deep, as if trying to make the moment last a little longer.

Gently, he lowers you back onto your shaky legs, steadying you with firm hands as he smooths down your skirt to cover your still-throbbing core. You blink up at him, dazed, before holding out a hand expectantly. “My panties?”

Seungcheol’s grin turns downright wicked as he pulls his pants back up around his hips. “Nope. Those are mine now.”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Consider them a souvenir.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “Fine. But only because my legs are too wobbly to fight you for them.” You shake your head, still trying to regain some semblance of composure. “How the hell did you even hold me up for that long? Guess I gotta start calling you Swole Cheol.”

He throws his head back in laughter, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you steady. “Damn right, baby. Now, let’s get you out of here before someone starts wondering why you look so thoroughly fucked.”

He watches you walk away, a satisfied smirk lingering on his lips as you glance back with a knowing look. Once you're out of sight, he releases a deep breath, running a hand through his hair before making his way to the locker room.

With a sigh, he disposes of the soiled condom, shaking his head at himself. You’re insatiable, Choi Seungcheol. But who could blame him when it came to you? His body already aches for another round, the memory of your warmth and the way you came undone around him burned into his mind.

Unfortunately, that will have to wait until tonight. For now, a very cold shower is in order.

After finishing his grueling 48-hour shift, Seungcheol finally gets to clock out. But instead of heading straight home to crash, he shoots you a text.

Come over?

You don’t hesitate. Obviously.

You haven’t seen his place yet, and curiosity buzzes through you as you drive over. When you arrive, he’s already waiting at the door, wearing nothing but gray sweats you silently pray he never gets rid of, and a tired smile that still somehow makes your stomach flip.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he says, stepping aside to let you and Mika in. His place is warm and inviting, all dark wood and soft lighting, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air.

You barely get a chance to take in your surroundings before he’s pulling you into his arms, kissing you slow and deep like he’s been starved for you.

You don’t make it past the couch. Neither do your clothes.

He lays you down, hovering over you, taking his time worshipping your body. It’s sweet and slow, his lips tracing every inch of your skin, his hands gripping your hips as he sinks into you, rocking into you with a steady rhythm that has your toes curling.

Then, for the next round, he carries you to his bed. Where you take control by straddling him, rolling your hips just right. His hands roam your body, his praises spilling from his lips like he can’t help himself. “You ride me so fucking well,” he groans, his grip tightening as he watches you fall apart above him.

And just when he thinks he’s spent, you pull him into the shower, pressing your chest against the cool tile as he takes you from behind, water cascading over both of you.

By the time you tumble back into his bed, tangled in the sheets, your limbs are heavy with exhaustion. Seungcheol pulls you onto his chest, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.

He presses a kiss to your temple, murmuring against your skin, “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You hum sleepily, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “At least you’ll go happy.”

With a breathy chuckle, he tightens his arms around you. Sleep takes him quickly, and you follow soon after, lulled by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you.

You sleep soundly for the next couple of hours, wrapped in warmth, the steady rise and fall of Seungcheol’s chest beneath your cheek lulling you into the deepest rest you’ve had in weeks. His scent surrounds you; fresh soap, faint cologne, something inherently him.

But then, movement stirs beside you.

A restless twitch. A sharp inhale. A quiet, broken, “No.”

Your brows knit together as you lift your head, immediately sensing the distress rolling off him in waves. His muscles tense beneath your palm, his fingers gripping the sheets as his breaths grow shallow. Another boom cracks through the night, lightning flashing across the room, illuminating the crease in his brow, and the tremble in his lips.

Then he whispers it, his voice thick with anguish.

"Please don’t be dead."

Your heart clenches. You realize what’s happening in an instant, he’s trapped in another nightmare, reliving something dark, something that still haunts him.

“Seungcheol,” you murmur softly, placing your palm over his racing heart. “You’re dreaming. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

But then another crack of thunder rattles the walls, and his body jerks violently as his eyes snap open, wild and unfocused. His breath comes in quick, panicked gasps, and for a moment, he’s not here. He’s somewhere else, somewhere terrible.

“Cheol, it’s me,” you say quickly, sitting up beside him. “I’m here.”

His gaze darts around the room as if searching for danger, for confirmation that the horrors of his dream weren’t real. Another flash of lightning streaks across the sky, and you see it, the sheer panic in his eyes, the way his entire frame trembles.

Without hesitation, you press your hands over his ears, shielding him from the roaring thunder. He lets out a shaky exhale, squeezing his eyes shut as he leans into your touch. Slowly, gently, you guide him back down onto the bed, keeping your hands in place, anchoring him.

“It’s just a storm,” you whisper. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

He listens, inhales deeply, exhales slower. Again. And again. Until the tremors in his body ease, until his chest rises and falls at a steady rhythm.

Minutes pass before his grip on you loosens, before his exhausted body succumbs to sleep once more. You stay like that, curled against him, watching over him, your fingers trailing soothing patterns on his skin.

…

The morning light filters softly through his windows, casting a golden glow over Seungcheol’s bare shoulders as he sits across from you at the kitchen table, fingers curled around his coffee mug. The night’s storm has long since passed, but the weight of it still lingers in the air between you.

You take a careful sip, watching him as Mika eats the last of her breakfast. He hasn’t said much since waking up, just his usual quiet “Morning, gorgeous” and a kiss to your forehead before brewing your coffee exactly how you like it. But there’s a tension in his shoulders, a faraway look in his eyes that hasn’t faded since last night.

You set your mug down. “You were really freaked out last night,” you say gently. “Do you want to talk about it? It’s okay if you aren’t ready to.”

He exhales through his nose, his grip on the mug tightening. You see the war happening in his head, his instinct to protect you from the darkness in him battling against his desire to be honest with you. To not keep things hidden.

Finally, he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“That storm...the thunder, the lightning, it took me back,” he admits, voice rough. “There was this wildfire a few months ago. A lightning strike started it. We had barely any warning before it spread out of control.” He pauses, jaw tensing. “A family refused to evacuate. I begged them to go, promised I’d do everything I could to protect their home. But the wind...it changed direction so fast, faster than anyone could’ve predicted.” His knuckles whiten around his cup. “By the time we got back there...it was too late.”

Your heart clenches at the raw anguish in his voice, the way his eyes flicker with a pain so deep it’s nearly unbearable to witness.

“They didn’t make it?” you ask softly.

His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “No one did,” he murmurs. “When we found them, they were still holding onto their baby.” His voice breaks on the last word. “I broke my promise.”

Tears prick your own eyes at the thought, at the unbearable weight he’s carried with him all this time. You reach across the table, placing your hand over his.

“Cheol,” you whisper, squeezing gently. “You did everything you could.”

His jaw clenches, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, red-rimmed and filled with regret and guilt. “Did I?” he rasps. “Because I should’ve convinced them. I should’ve been able to make them leave. I should’ve gotten there sooner.”

“They chose to stay,” you remind him softly.

“They didn’t know any better,” he counters, voice thick with guilt. “They were scared, and I should’ve—” He stops, dragging a hand down his face as he blinks back the tears threatening to spill. “I live with that every damn day. Knowing I couldn’t save them. That I had to carry their bodies out instead.”

The silence between you is heavy, but you don’t rush to fill it. Instead, you shift your chair closer, wrapping your arms around him. He stiffens for half a second before melting into you, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

“You carry so much,” you murmur, fingers tracing soothing circles on his back. “More than anyone ever should. But you’re human, Cheol. You can’t save everyone.”

He exhales shakily, nodding against you. “I just wish I could.”

“I know,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his hair. “And that’s what makes you you.”

For the first time that morning, he lets himself break. And you hold him through it all.

You refuse to let him go, arms wrapped tightly around his broad shoulders as he holds you just as fiercely. His breath is steadying now, though his heartbeat still pounds beneath your fingertips. You don’t say anything; just stay there, grounding him, letting him know he’s not alone.

Then, a sharp alarm cuts through the air. Seungcheol’s phone buzzes insistently against the table, and the moment ends. He exhales deeply, hesitating for just a second before he pulls back to check the screen. His brows knit together, and his entire demeanor shifts.

“I gotta go,” he murmurs, jaw tightening. “House fire.” Uncanny timing.

His movements are swift as he grabs his keys, slipping on his jacket quickly after. He kisses you once, lingering just a little longer than usual, before crouching to ruffle Mika’s fur. “You stay here and keep your mom company, okay?” The husky wags her tail, oblivious to the tension in the air.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like,” he tells you, pausing at the door. “Though...I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

There’s something unspoken in his words, something heavy. Like a part of him isn’t sure he’ll be back at all.

“That’s okay, I have to pick up my new car at some point today. Be safe,” you whisper, and he nods before he’s out the door, disappearing into the early morning light.

When Seungcheol arrives at the station, the usual buzz of activity is nowhere to be found. Instead, the air is thick, weighed down by everyone’s mood. They move in near silence, expressions grim as they gear up. There’s no room for jokes or casual banter this morning.

The fire must be bad.

It doesn’t take long before the trucks are roaring down the streets, sirens wailing. Seungcheol watches the city blur past through the windshield, his fingers clenching and unclenching around the strap of his harness. His mind drifts back to the wildfire, to the storm, to last night’s memories clawing at the edges of his mind.

Not again.

The moment they arrive on the scene, it’s clear just how dire the situation is. Flames engulf the upper floors of a residential building, thick black smoke pouring from shattered windows. Panicked screams echo through the street as people scramble outside, clutching children, pets, whatever they could grab before escaping.

“Two confirmed still inside,” their Chief barks as they hop off the truck, already securing their oxygen masks.

Seungcheol’s pulse kicks into overdrive.

Two people.

That’s all it takes for him to lose his grip on rational thought.

Adrenaline surges through his veins as he storms toward the entrance, ignoring the heat licking at his skin. The radio crackles in his ear with orders, but they barely register. He has one mission.

Get them out.

“Coups, wait—” someone calls behind him, but he’s already gone, disappearing into the inferno.

Inside, it’s a warzone of collapsing debris and searing flames. Visibility is nearly zero, but he pushes forward, relying on instinct. His breaths come in controlled, measured gasps as he scans the smoke-filled hallway.

A cough. A desperate sound.

There.

He finds them huddled in a bedroom, an older woman shielding a teenage boy with her body. Their faces are streaked with soot, eyes wide with terror.

“It’s okay,” Seungcheol says, voice firm. “I’m getting you out of here.”

The woman clings to him as he hoists the boy onto his back, securing his grip before turning toward the exit. But just as they reach the hallway, an explosion rattles the structure, sending a shower of debris crashing down below them. The floor beneath them groans ominously.

“Shit,” he grits out, adjusting his hold. “Hold on.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

Breaking protocol entirely, Seungcheol barrels forward, his mind laser-focused on getting the trapped family to safety. He moves quickly, weaving through the fiery chaos, dodging falling beams and blistering flames that seem to reach out for him. His breath is ragged, adrenaline coursing through his veins, but nothing will stop him—nothing. Not the heat, not the smoke, not even the ever-encroaching collapse of the building around him.

Then, a massive beam crashes down onto his shoulder, the impact so brutal that a sharp cry of pain is forced from his lips. He staggers but pushes through, gritting his teeth, refusing to let the pain slow him down. His shoulder burns like hell, but he won’t stop, not when the woman’s terrified eyes are locked on him, desperate for his help.

“Cheol!” Mingyu’s voice cuts through the fog of pain, and Seungcheol knows what’s coming even before his friend is fully in view.

“Do you have a death wish?” Mingyu barks, his tone sharp with concern as he catches up, the rest of the unit trailing behind him.

Seungcheol grits his teeth, his jaw clenched tight. He doesn’t have the energy for this right now.

“You guys shouldn’t be in here,” he growls, eyes scanning the wreckage. The staircase is gone, replaced by nothing but broken wood and twisted metal. He shifts the woman in his arms, her fragile weight barely noticeable compared to the responsibility pressing down on his chest.

“Neither should you,” Wonwoo shoots back, annoyance lining his voice as he surveys the scene. “We wait for orders then comply, remember? Protocol.”

Seungcheol shoots him a scowl, shaking his head. “Then why did you follow?” He’s out of breath, but his tone is still biting. The words tumble out without thinking.

“We weren’t going to let you die in here,” Vernon huffs, catching the woman in his arms with a grunt, before nodding to Seungcheol. The teenage boy is next, and Seungcheol carefully lowers him down to safety.

The unit works quickly, their frustration visible, but they all know this is the harsh reality of their job. As Seungcheol is helped down next, Mingyu’s eyes stay fixed on his shoulder, unable to ignore the way Seungcheol’s fingers are tightly gripping his own arm, gloves tight across his knuckles from the pain he's clearly trying to hide.

Seungcheol catches his stare, his expression darkening. The warning is clear in his eyes. Don’t fucking say a thing.

Mingyu swallows hard, but he says nothing. His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t push the issue. Seungcheol’s pride, his reckless courage, has always been part of him. And right now, no amount of scolding will change what’s already been done.

The fire rages behind them, a constant roar of destruction, but Seungcheol keeps his focus, pushing through the pain in his shoulder. The family is safe, that’s all that matters. For now, anyway.

As they burst through the door, the mother and son gasp for fresh air, the paramedics rushing in to attend to them. But Seungcheol barely registers the relief in their faces before the harsh crackling of his radio fills the air. He tenses, hearing the fury behind it, and before he can react, a voice booms from behind him.

“Choi Seungcheol, what the fuck was that?” He turns sharply to see Captain Namjoon storming toward him, absolutely livid.

“You ignored a direct order, you reckless idiot—”

But Seungcheol doesn't flinch, doesn't care. Not when he glances back at the boy, clutching his mother, both of them alive and safe. That’s what matters to him.

The Chief interrupts, his voice cold and authoritative as he steps in front of Seungcheol. “You willingly put yourself and your unit at risk. Disciplinary action will be discussed tomorrow in front of a panel to decide your reprimand for misconduct. You’re dismissed. Get back to the station.”

Seungcheol’s heart sinks, but he knows better than to argue now. What’s done is done.

A slight worry settles in your gut as you glance at the clock, noting that the sun is beginning to dip below the horizon. You haven’t heard from Seungcheol since he left early this morning. You know his job is demanding, but the silence gnaws at you, twisting your thoughts into worst-case scenarios.

You try to distract yourself. You’ve run all your errands, picked up your new car from the dealership, and taken Mika on a long walk in the park. But now, there’s nothing left to occupy your mind. The restlessness builds, gnawing at your thoughts until you can’t sit still any longer.

You decide to drive to the station, thinking that maybe if you wait there, you’ll see Seungcheol when the trucks return. At least then you can breathe a little easier. You leave Mika safely tucked in your apartment, lock up, and head for the station. The closer you get, the more your nerves spark.

But when you pull up and see the big garage doors closed, your stomach drops. That means the trucks are already parked back inside.

Your pulse quickens as you lock your car, your mind racing with questions. You rush through the door, barely noticing the soft murmur of voices inside. When you round the corner, you bump into Mingyu just outside the locker room door.

His eyes meet yours, his usual laid-back demeanor momentarily replaced by a flicker of concern. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” he asks, concerned about your current state, even though his exhaustion is evident.

A flood of worry surges through you as you look at Mingyu, your mind racing with a thousand different scenarios. “How long have you guys been back? Did Seungcheol get mandated to stay for overtime? Or is he hurt?”

Mingyu gives you a look, one that’s part confusion, part understanding, as he puts the pieces together. He raises an eyebrow. “You haven’t heard from him?” he asks, his voice softening as he realizes the depth of your concern.

You shake your head quickly, panic creeping in. "No. He didn’t text me like he was supposed to.”

Mingyu pauses, processing the situation. “He returned from the call this afternoon,” he finally says, his tone thoughtful. “The rest of us got back around dinner time and he was already gone by then. I assumed he was already with you.” He pulls his phone out, texting someone quickly. “Let me check with a few people. We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”

His attempt at reassurance does little to ease the anxiety knotting in your stomach. You let out a breath as he directs you to sit down, and you follow him into the rec room. The worn-out chairs and tables, so familiar to Seungcheol’s coworkers, suddenly feel out of place in the heavy silence hanging between you. Mingyu sits across from you at the table, his fingers drumming anxiously on the surface.

“Why was he the first one back?” you ask, trying to piece together the timeline in your head.

Mingyu’s eyes shift away for a moment, his face tightening, and you can see the hesitation on his features. “I—” He stops himself, clearly uncertain of how much to say. After a long pause, he meets your gaze again, the heaviness in his eyes unmistakable.

“What is it?” you press, your voice rising with urgency. You can feel it now, a gnawing sense that something happened, something bad. “Is he hurt?”

Mingyu’s fingers hover over his phone as he glances down, hesitation clear in the tightness of his posture. After a tense moment, he finally meets your gaze, his voice softer than usual, almost reluctant.

“He…he wasn’t in the best shape when he got back,” he starts, the weight of his words hanging in the air. “They had to take him to the infirmary. Just a minor shoulder injury…” His voice trails off, as if he’s holding something back.

Your heart skips a beat, but you can’t help pressing for more. The knot in your stomach tightens as dread creeps into your thoughts. “There’s more?” you ask, your voice shaky with worry.

Mingyu sighs, his expression unreadable as he shifts in his seat. “He pulled a reckless move today,” he admits, his gaze flicking briefly to his phone again. “Chief forced him to leave after breaking orders. Seungcheol wasn’t supposed to go in like that. He didn’t wait for backup, didn’t follow the plan…” He sighs again, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Vernon answered, he’s with Coups right now. They’re at Shooters. The bar on Fifth.”

Shooter’s. The last place you ever expected to hear about when Seungcheol’s name was involved, especially after what Mingyu just told you.

“Should I go to him?” you ask, standing up as the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. Your legs feel like they’re made of lead, but your heart is racing. All you can think about is getting to Seungcheol, making sure he’s okay, whatever happened today.

Mingyu looks at you, his eyes soft with sympathy. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I think you should. Don’t push him too hard though. He’s not exactly in the best mood.”

You nod, already grabbing your keys from your bag. You’re out the door before another thought can settle in, your mind only focused on reaching Seungcheol.

When you walk in, the thumping rock music and the rhythmic clink of glasses vibrate through the air, filling your ears as you scan the dimly lit room. Your gaze lands on Seungcheol immediately, his broad frame slumped against the bar, his head hanging low as if the weight of the world rests on his shoulders.

Beside him, Vernon sits quietly, his eyes flicking between you and Seungcheol, sensing the brewing tension before it even fully settles.

“Hey, Y/N,” Vernon greets you with a small smile, but his eyes flick to Seungcheol, reading the situation before it can spiral out of control.

As soon as Seungcheol hears your name, his head jerks up like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. His eyes glaze over with a mix of exhaustion and frustration, meet yours, and you can tell he doesn’t want to deal with you right now.

But there’s no way around it. You’re here. And you’re not leaving without talking this through. Vernon takes one last look between you two before silently slipping away, giving you both space to talk.

You sit next to Seungcheol, your presence undeniable, and cross your arms as you wait for him to acknowledge you. He doesn’t.

“Aren’t you curious why I’m here?” you ask, the edge in your voice sharper than you intended.

Seungcheol doesn’t even look at you, lifting his glass to his lips and taking another long swig of whiskey, his silence only making your frustration boil over. "No," he finally grunts in response, not even bothering to meet your eyes.

“Mingyu let me know you were here,” you continue, your voice now firm, cutting through the tension between you two. “After I went to the station, worried because you didn’t come home. And he kindly informed me that you’ve been back from that house fire call for hours."

At your words, Seungcheol’s grip on the glass tightens, his jaw clenched as if he’s trying to hold back the storm. The non-answer he gives you only stokes the fire inside you, and you can feel your patience wearing thin.

His stubbornness frustrates you more than anything, but you refuse to let this go.

“Did you act out today because it was another family? Do you feel like you owed it to the universe to save them, no matter the cost?”

His glare could cut through steel. “Don’t,” he snaps, his voice low and hard.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Seungcheol, it’s not your fault. They chose to stay behind. You can’t carry that burden. It’s not your responsibility to save everyone, especially when it’s out of your hands.”

But as you watch him, his arm in a sling, the frustration bubbles up inside you. It’s like he’s determined to destroy himself for a past he can’t change.

“I just don’t understand,” you say, frustration edging into your voice. “Why did you forget all rational thought? You never break orders. You know the risks. You could’ve died today. Along with that mother and her son, since you were too focused on your own guilt to consider the usual risks, like weak spots. What if she’d fallen through the floor? What if her son had to watch her die right in front of him because you were in such a rush to right a wrong? Sure, you saved them this time, but what you did was just as reckless as it was selfish. You made it about yourself, Seungcheol. You let your past mistakes dictate your actions and put everything else on the line. You put your team, your friends, and your own life in danger.”

The words hang heavy between you, your chest rising and falling with the weight of them. You wait for him to say something, anything, but the silence stretches on.

“Was it worth it? Do you feel better now?” you bite out, anger and hurt lacing your tone. “I already know the answer to that, seeing you sitting here, ignoring me.”

His fist slams down on the counter, the sound sharp and final. “Enough!” His voice cracks with the tension, and the glass in his hand shatters into pieces on the counter.

Instinctively, your hands reach for the broken glass, not thinking, but the jagged edge cuts through your skin before you can pull away.

"Shit" you mutter, more to yourself than him, as you suck in a sharp breath, pressing napkins to the small wound on your hand. The blood stains the white paper, and you can feel your emotions boiling over.

Seungcheol's voice erupts, raw and jagged, his words like acid. “See? This is exactly what I mean,” he spits. “You’re pissed at me for saving lives today, for doing my job, but look at you. You can’t even get your own shit together! You want to lecture me, but you’re over here falling apart at the smallest thing. How many times do I have to save you, huh? You always come to me with your problems, needing me to fix everything for you. And what do I get in return?”

His hands slam against the bar, his knuckles turning white as his gaze hardens as if he’s trying to bury his emotions behind the anger. "Just go away, Y/N. I can't fix you right now. I can't fix anything about you or me. So just go.”

His words are like a slap, cold and unforgiving, making you recoil. And they leave a burning sting in their wake. The sting isn’t just from the cut; it’s from the weight of his accusation. You take a breath, steadying yourself as you step back, holding the napkin tighter against your palm, trying to hold back the tears.

Without another word, you turn and leave, feeling the heat of the moment suffocating you. He can clean up his own damn mess, because you’ve done all you can.

Seungcheol’s disciplinary panel finally came to a decision today. The verdict hits him hard. Two weeks without pay, and he's benched from responding to fires for the same period. He knows it’s deserved—hell, he was honestly expecting more.

But it still stings. It’s a reminder of how far he pushed everything, how much he screwed up. But deep down, he knows it could’ve been worse. It’s not the worst punishment he could’ve gotten, but it sure as hell feels like a taste of it.

What stings even more, though, is that you’ve been gone for three days. Three days where you won’t answer his calls, won’t reply to his texts, won’t answer your door. He leaves each attempt feeling worse than the last.

And it’s his fault. He knows it. The words he threw at you, the way he pushed you away…he deserves this. He deserves you leaving him, walking away, because he fucked it all up.

He heads to lunch in a haze of guilt, dragging his feet, already dreading the conversation with Jun. He agreed to meet him, mostly because he couldn’t avoid it anymore. But Jun, as usual, knows more than he’s letting on.

Seungcheol is surprised that Jun has Mika with him

“What’s with the dog?” he asks, raising an eyebrow as he sits down.

“I’m watching her while Y/N and Kate are away for the weekend. A resort and spa,” Jun starts, his voice low, careful. “After everything that happened, she needed a break. A well-deserved one.”

Seungcheol's stomach drops, a sickening feeling twisting inside him. “You heard?”

Jun’s gaze softens a little, before nodding.

He hesitates for a split second before the truth spills out. “Yeah, I was working at the hospital when Y/N was getting stitches.”

Seungcheol’s entire world shifts. The air leaves his lungs as his mind struggles to process what Jun is saying. “What?” The word comes out as a whisper, hoarse, the shock of it hitting him like a physical blow. “What happened? She…she got hurt?”

“She cut her hand. On the glass. From the broken drink you threw.”

The words cut through him like a knife, deeper than anything he’d ever felt before. He can feel the weight of his actions, the damage they’ve caused, crashing into him all at once. His breath hitches as he imagines the moment you had to deal with that—alone, after he pushed you away, after he made you feel small.

“Fuck,” he mutters, looking down at the table, unable to meet Jun’s eyes. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

Jun’s gaze hardens, but his tone is gentle. “I know, man. But you need to figure out how to make things right.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, frustration clawing at him. “I don’t know what to do anymore. Everything’s gone up in fucking flames.” His voice cracks slightly, the weight of it settling in his chest like concrete. “She has to know I didn’t mean it. Right? She has to understand. She’s never too much for me to fix. I’m not… I’m not like this. I never meant to hurt her.”

Jun studies him for a long moment before he asks the question that Seungcheol hasn’t fully allowed himself to think about yet.

“You love her, don’t you?”

The question hits him like a shot to the chest, a truth he’s been running from but can’t escape. Seungcheol exhales sharply, his eyes drifting to Mika, who’s sitting at his feet, head tilted in confusion. “Yeah,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “I love her. And I’m scared…I’m scared I’ve lost her for good this time.”

…

The scent of eucalyptus and lavender fills the air, meant to be soothing, but it does nothing to settle the storm raging inside you. The spa worker carefully places cooling eye masks over your lids, letting the skincare seep into your skin, and for a moment, you try to ease yourself into relaxation.

But it’s useless.

You shift restlessly on the plush lounge chair, arms crossing and uncrossing, letting out sharp, annoyed exhales every few minutes. At first, the sadness was all-consuming, a crushing weight that settled deep in your chest. But now? Now, you're just pissy.

It’s not like you ever asked Seungcheol for constant help. If anything, you’ve proven that you can handle things on your own, pushing back every time he tried to coddle you. You told him, over and over again, that you weren’t some helpless damsel in distress. That you didn’t need fixing.

And yet, that night, he made it seem like you were a burden. Like you were too much. Like he was exhausted from having to save you.

Your fingers twitch into fists at the thought, and if he were standing in front of you right now, you’d be seriously tempted to kick his ass.

“Jesus, Y/N,” Kate drawls beside you, not even bothering to lift her eye mask. “You’re getting more worked up by the minute. This is supposed to be relaxing, remember?”

Her voice is teasing, but you know she gets it. She knows how badly you want to scream, to shake Seungcheol and make him understand just how much he hurt you. Hell, Kate probably wants to kick his ass, too.

Frustrated, you rip the eye masks off, only to immediately wince as pain flares through your palm. Your stitches pull, a sharp sting running through your hand. You glance down at them, at the neat, dark lines slicing across your skin. A physical reminder of just how much things have spiraled.

You swallow hard, jaw tightening as Mingyu’s words echo in your head.

Don’t push him too far.

But you did.

And now, you don’t know if there’s anything left to fix.

You let out a frustrated sigh, sitting up and swinging your legs over the side of the lounge chair. The plush robe feels suffocating, the scent of essential oils dizzying rather than calming.

“I’m heading back to the room,” you announce, already reaching for your slippers. “I can’t relax in here. I need to watch some trashy reality TV to feel better about my life.”

Kate lifts her eye mask just enough to peek at you, one brow arching. “You sure? We’ve got a whole hour left. The hot stone massage is next. You want me to come with you?”

You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “No, no, you stay and enjoy the rest of the appointment. You actually deserve this.”

Kate sits up slightly, skepticism written all over her face. “Y/N—”

“I just need to clear my head,” you cut in gently. “I’ll be fine. I just…need a break from all this self-care happy mindset crap.”

She huffs a laugh, but you see the concern lingering in her eyes. “Fine. But if you start drafting an angry text to Seungcheol, I will come drag your ass back here.”

You hold up your injured hand. “Hard to text when my dominant hand is stitched up.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of an angry, one-handed rant,” she quips, settling back into her chair. “Now go, enjoy your reality TV, and for the love of God, don’t think about your emotionally constipated firefighter ex for at least an hour.”

You let out a snort, shaking your head as you make your way toward the exit. But as you step out into the hallway, the weight of everything crashes back down, pressing into your chest like a vice.

You’re not sure if an hour—or even a whole weekend—is going to be enough to stop thinking about Seungcheol.

…

Seungcheol had never been above swallowing his pride when it truly mattered, and right now, nothing mattered more than seeing you.

So he begged. Literally begged Junhui to drive him to the resort. He didn’t care how pathetic it made him look, all he needed was a chance. The smallest sliver of hope that he hadn’t completely destroyed everything between you.

Jun, with his soft heart, eventually caved, wanting everything to work out in the end. Forever the optimist. He muttered something about how Kate was definitely going to chew him out for enabling this, but deep down, he wanted to believe that maybe this wasn’t a lost cause. That maybe Seungcheol could fix what he broke.

And so, Girls’ Weekend was about to be crashed.

As soon as they pull up to the resort, Seungcheol wastes no time heading inside. His pulse pounds with every step, his injured arm stiff in its sling, but he doesn’t let it slow him down.

And then, just his luck—he runs right into Kate.

She’s standing in the hallway, waiting for the elevator, arms crossed the moment she spots him. Her eyes narrow into sharp, unforgiving slits.

“And what the hell are you doing here?” she demands, her tone dripping with disbelief. “Actually—how are you even here?”

Seungcheol, already bracing himself for impact, exhales sharply. “Jun drove.”

Kate’s gaze flicks past him, and when she spots Jun lingering a few feet away, looking guilty as hell, her glare sharpens. “Seriously, Jun?”

Jun shrugs. “He begged.”

Kate rolls her eyes before turning her wrath back on Seungcheol. “Unbelievable. You do realize this is a spa weekend, right? As in, a Seungcheol-free weekend?”

“I just need to talk to her,” he says, voice raw with something dangerously close to desperation. “Please, Kate. Just tell me where she is.”

Kate scoffs, arms tightening over her chest. “Oh, you think I’m just gonna hand her over to you after everything?” She shakes her head. “Not happening.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw, frustration and regret simmering in his chest. “I know I fucked up. But I need to see her. I need to—”

“What you need is an ass-kicking,” Kate cuts in sharply, stepping closer with fire in her eyes. “And maybe a damn class on how to properly handle your emotions instead of acting like a fucking toddler.”

Seungcheol flinches but doesn’t argue. He knows she’s right.

He swallows hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. “You’re right,” he admits, his voice rough with defeat. “I handled everything wrong—worse than wrong. But please, Kate, I need to fix this. I can’t wait another day without telling her how sorry I am.” His voice wavers, raw and unguarded. “And how much I love her. How much I don’t want to live without her.”

Kate’s sharp gaze falters, just for a second.

Her arms are still crossed, her stance still firm, but there’s the faintest flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

She wants to stay angry. Seungcheol knows that, but he also knows Kate isn’t heartless. She’s seen how much you’ve been hurting, but she can also see it now—the weight of regret pressing down on him, the exhaustion in his face, the way his hand fists at his side like he’s barely keeping himself from falling apart.

She sighs, exasperated. “God, I hate you for making me feel bad for you right now.”

Seungcheol exhales, not quite relief, but something close.

Kate’s eyes dart away, toward the hallway leading to your room. Then she looks back at him. “She’s pissed at you, you know that, right?”

“I know.”

“She’s been trying not to think about you.”

“I know.”

Kate sighs again, this time heavier, before rubbing her temples. “If I send you to her room, and you fuck this up any worse, I will personally make sure you regret it.”

Seungcheol nods without hesitation. “I know.”

Kate looks him over one last time, eyes narrowing. Then, begrudgingly, caves.

“Room 413,” she mutters. “Good luck.”

Seungcheol doesn’t waste another second.

The knock at the door startles you. You quickly wipe away the lingering tears, sniffing as you straighten up. You’re expecting Kate, probably coming to check on you, and the last thing you want is for her to see you crying again. You’ve already done enough of that.

Forcing a smile onto your face, you pull open the door—

—and freeze.

Seungcheol stands on the other side, looking as wrecked as you feel. His eyes are red-rimmed, exhaustion and regret etched deep into the lines of his face. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, like the weight of the world is pressing down on him.

Your stomach twists violently. Especially when you notice his shoulder sling.

Before you can react, before you can slam the door like every part of you is screaming to do, he speaks.

“Before you close the door in my face,” he says, voice tight with desperation, “please—just let me apologize.” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Even if you don’t want to hear it, even if you never want to see me again after this, you deserve a face-to-face apology for how I treated you that night.”

His voice wavers, raw and unguarded, and for a second, just a second, your heart wants to soften.

But then the memory of his words that night…How many times do I have to save you? Those words claw their way back to the surface, and the anger simmers all over again.

Your grip on the door tightens, but you don’t close it.

Seungcheol takes that as a good sign, and he clings to it like a lifeline.

His voice trembles, raw and unguarded, as he begins. “I am so sorry. There’s nothing I can say that will erase what I did, the cruelty of my words, or the way I made you feel that night. But I can tell you this—I was wrong. So fucking wrong.”

He swallows hard, eyes never leaving yours. “Nothing about you needs to be fixed. Nothing. You are perfect exactly as you are, and I hate myself for ever making you feel otherwise. I love everything about you. Your clumsy quirks, the way you refuse help even when you clearly need it, the way you care so much, sometimes more than you should.” He exhales shakily. “I love you. And if you let me, I will spend forever proving it to you, making sure you feel as loved and seen as you always make me feel.”

A single tear slips down your cheek. Seungcheol reacts instinctively, his thumb brushing it away before he cradles your face in his palm. His touch is warm, familiar, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he continues, voice thick with emotion. “I know I hurt you. And if you need time, I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes because I know you are the only one for me.” His voice cracks, a tear slipping from his own eyes now. “If it’s not you, it’s no one.”

His hand falls away as he takes a step back. Shoulders slumping, he turns, ready to walk away.

And that’s when you realize, you can’t let him go.

“Wait,” you choke out, the word escaping before you can think twice.

Seungcheol halts, spinning around just as you launch yourself into his arms. He barely has a second to react before you’re clutching onto him with everything you have, burying your face into his neck as if letting go would mean losing him all over again.

His free arm wraps around you instantly, holding you tight, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he loosens his grip even a fraction. His entire body relaxes, melting into yours as he exhales a deep, shuddering breath.

Without a word, he lifts you off the ground, carrying you back inside your room before the door closes and locks you both out.

Because this time, neither of you are walking away.

“I love you,” he breathes, and then his lips are on yours. desperate, searching, like he’s been starving for this moment. And maybe he has. It feels like an eternity since he’s last kissed you, since he’s last held you like this.

The warmth of his words sinks into your heart, dissolving the last remnants of anger, replacing them with something softer. Something inevitable.

“I love you too,” you confess against his lips, your hands framing his face, thumbs tracing over his cheekbones as you pull him back in.

Your kisses grow frantic, heated. All the tension, heartbreak, longing, all of it crashes into this moment. Seungcheol groans as he presses you back against the nearest surface, his fingers digging into your waist after he slips off his sling. He’s nearly recovered anyway.

You suddenly pull back, breathless. “Wait,” you pant, your hands still fisting the fabric of his shirt.

His eyes flicker with concern, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “What? What’s wrong?”

You glance around the room. “Where’s Kate?”

A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “She left with Jun. He was my ride here.”

Relief floods through you, followed immediately by something more electric. “Good,” you murmur, and before he can say another word, your hands find the hem of his shirt, dragging it over his head and tossing it aside.

Seungcheol barely has time to react before you’re pulling him back in, pressing your lips to his with renewed desire. He groans against your mouth, his hands roaming over your back, your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

He carries you over to the bed, lowering you onto the mattress with a gentleness that contradicts the sheer desperation in his touch. His lips barely leave yours as he presses his body against yours, hands mapping the familiar curves of your skin like he’s trying to commit them to memory all over again.

Your movements are frantic, both of you tugging at clothes with a sense of urgency like you need to feel each other, skin to skin, to truly believe that this is real. That this is happening.

But then, just as things are escalating, Seungcheol suddenly tenses. “Wait,” he rasps, his forehead dropping against yours as he forces himself to pull back. “Fuck, wait.” His breathing is ragged as he lifts himself off you, every muscle in his body straining with restraint.

You blink up at him, dazed. “What—?”

“As much as I would love to continue, I don’t have a condom on me,” he admits, voice thick with frustration. He runs a hand down his face, clearly cursing himself. “I wasn’t even sure you’d speak to me. I didn’t plan this far ahead.”

For a split second, he braces himself for frustration or disappointment from you. Instead, a small, amused chuckle slips past your lips.

He frowns. “What’s funny?”

You tilt your head toward your purse, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I have some in there.”

His eyes dart to the bag, then back to you, skepticism flashing across his face. “In your purse?”

You nod. “Yes, Cheol. In my purse. Feel free to check.”

Still looking slightly suspicious, he reaches for the bag and unzips it, peering inside. His brows shoot up when he spots a neatly lined row of condoms tucked away in an inner pocket.

“Why the fuck do you have a whole stash in here?” he asks, holding up the small strip like it personally offended him.

You laugh, propping yourself up on your elbows. “For unplanned moments like this,” you tease, eyes twinkling. “So you can knock that look off your face.”

His jaw clenches, eyes narrowing. “And what look is that?”

“The one where you’re wondering if I’ve been using them with someone else.” Your expression softens as your hand dips down between your legs, his eyes following the movement. Your fingers tease your entrance and you say, “I’m yours, remember?”

Something in him snaps at that. His grip tightens around the condom packet before he tears one away from the rest, tossing the strip back into your bag. The way he looks at you; like you’re his entire world, like he’d burn the earth down if it meant keeping you, sends a wave of heat directly to your core.

He growls in approval, ripping the packet open with his teeth before rolling it on in record time. Then, he’s back over you, caging you beneath him, his lips crashing onto yours once more.

And this time, there’s nothing stopping him.

Seungcheol’s hips move against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm, sinking into you with a hunger that mirrors your own. His hands find yours, lacing his fingers into yours, holding you in place as if he never wants to let go. His lips trail a path of fiery kisses down the side of your neck, each one a whispered confession of the feelings he’s been holding back, of the love he’s been desperate to give you.

“I love you so much,” he breathes, his voice low and thick with desire, the words dripping with meaning as he presses into you again, as if trying to prove it with every inch of his body. “So fucking much.”

His pace quickens, rolling his hips into yours again and again, his movements becoming more desperate, more frantic. “The way you touch me, the way you always know exactly how to make me feel,” he murmurs between kisses, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. “Your generosity, your kindness, how innocent you can be at times despite writing absolute filth in your books.” A wicked smirk crosses his face as he feels the heat rise in your cheeks.

“The sounds you make when I make you feel good, the way your body responds to mine,” he continues, each word punctuated by a shift of his hips, a shift that leaves you breathless, wanting more. “But most of all,” his voice drops to a whisper, eyes locking onto yours as his thumb gently brushes your knuckles, “the way you love me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. All I’ll ever need.”

Each word, each touch, each kiss seems to bring you closer to unraveling. The coil winds so tight within you, each movement of his pushing you closer to the edge. His body presses into yours, the rhythm of his hips matching the frantic beating of your heart.

His voice, low and rough, murmurs against your ear, words of devotion, each one sending jolts of electricity through your body. He moves with purpose, each thrust taking you higher.

And then, just as the tension reaches its peak, everything explodes in a rush. You come, your body tensing, every nerve igniting as your eyes stay locked on his. You watch the way his expression shifts, the way his breath catches, and in that shared moment, it feels like time itself pauses—just long enough for the two of you to fully experience the depth of your connection.

His grip on you tightens, the intensity of the moment reflected in his eyes, and with a final, desperate thrust, he follows you, his own release washing over him. His name escapes your lips, soft and breathless, and in that instant, there’s no room for anything else but the overwhelming wave of closeness, of love, of pure, shared bliss.

And as the world slowly comes back into focus, you both remain tangled in each other’s arms, hearts still racing, breaths still shaky. The chaos of everything outside, the unresolved tension, the emotional fires that once threatened to destroy you both; none of it matters anymore.

In this moment, it’s just the two of you, holding each other like the world could fall apart and you wouldn’t care. There are no unspoken words, no distance between you, just a quiet understanding that everything you need is here, in his arms.

It feels like the safest place in the world. Where it’s just you and him, imperfectly in sync.

→ Taglist: want to be notified when i post new fics join my taglist here! OR follow @shadowkoo-fics & turn on post notifications! OR subscribe to my ao3 page!

@gyupremacy @beomcoups @yoonguurt @lovetaroandtaemin @daniela-f-uwu @gyuguys @fancypeacepersona

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

©shadowkoo 2025. All rights reserved.

[cj-theyoungling]

Bat Fam HCs

A/N: Just wanted to put a little something out before I disappear again for finals week. I have a lot of WIPs that I might post snippets of in the coming days but I haven't been able to have the bestie beta read anything yet so it'll be a while.

Bruce tells the same handful of stories every time he talks to the kids to the point where they just finish the story for him instead of listening to what he has to say

Tim and Damian pretend to argue so that they can get out of doing chores and be sent to their rooms instead.

Jason and Damian are not allowed to be on different teams for literally anything. They get too competitive with each other and will hurt people on their own team while trying to one up each other.

Steph and Tim love to decorate for the holidays, the mansion is decked out for literally every holiday, even minor ones. (They brought a tree into the Manor for arbor day. No one knows how they brought it in with no one noticing)

All of the kids have snuck into bed with Bruce at least once. They all pretend it didn't happen but Bruce eats it up.

Damian makes everything a competition. He once tried to out-do Dick in acrobatics and ended up breaking his arm.

Cass loves to lie. She'll just tell people that their body language is telling her that they're lying. It confuses the fuck out of everyone

Tim and Jason have both written fanfiction about Batman and now it's become a secret competition for who can get the most likes.

All of the kids have horrible .5 photos of each other on their phones. Mostly of Damian tbh.

Jason love telling people that he thinks Batman and Superman are dating. It's become a huge meme

Tim and Steph made a clip chart for the Batcave. Jason has been on red for like two weeks.

[brucewaynehater101]

I have a vent fic wip that I may or may not finish so I just need to tell someone that I am...feeling so many things all the time about the consequences of the 16th birthday but...

primarily, right now, at this moment. without Robin/Bruce, Tim thought he would lose Dick and everyone else he knew through Robin. and then a little bit later when he quit for Jack, he got radio silence for Months until he became a potential victim, and even then it was just Cass stopping in to give the message and be like "I'll watch you to keep you safe 👁️👁️ ok bye" and he had actual Proof that without Robin, he would lose everyone.

and then. Dick "you're my equal (even tho I'm drastically changing your life without your knowledge or permission), you're my closest ally (even tho you don't even have a name to go out in the field to assist me as backup), I need you (even tho, as mentioned, I made a huge decision without your input because I didn't need it because I know best actually)" Grayson.

skipping over the fact that Dick didn't even have the time to say "you're fired" or anything resembling that, when Tim lost "Robin" to Damian, he felt like he lost everything else too. it didn't matter what Dick said about "equals" or "allies" or "needing". he already had Concrete Proof that it was all false. cheap words that are easily disproven do nothing in this situation, Dichard!

(disclaimer: I love and respect Dick Grayson, I just also think Dick Stopped Existing as soon as he made Damian his Robin for the most pathetic stupid illogical risky-ass excuse he could ever give for making anyone Robin (or a vigilante in general). "because he'll kill someone again". who the fuck says that?? who thinks "oh no oh god oh fuck this kid is gonna go off the rails he's gonna kill someone, I need to Put Him In A Place Of Power Over Oblivious Innocent Untrained People Who Are Expecting A Kind And Empathetic Hero To Save Them" hUH???? ok sorry, I just wanted to rant about what Tim "losing Robin" meant)

I agree with ya. Dick Grayson is fantastic, but it seems weird that he nuked his entire relationship with Tim (a very strong one that other fans have referred to them as "The Brothers") for the new kid.

Yes, Damian is a ten year old traumatized kid who just lost the dad he didn't really have the chance to get to know. Yes, Damian needed guidance, boundaries, and compassion.

But DC spent so much time and effort building up Tim and Dick's rapport only to obliterate it once the "blood son" came in (I also love Damian. This is not hate on the kid. This is confused commentary on DC's choices). It's just a strange idea, but that's also why it hurts so much when Dick does that to Tim.

Then you tie in Tim losing Robin by Dick to Tim's experiences before? Fuck. You are so right for that.

As far as the RR run, Dick could've handled Tim believing Bruce a bit better. I don't necessarily blame him for that one. I get why he wasn't supportive in the way Tim wanted, even though I would've chosen differently for my siblings.

Dick taking Robin, though? That was fucked up. I, honest to the gods, do not see how that was a justified course of action. I can understand his perspective, but it's still not okay. At all.

There's your very adequate analysis:

Robin, for Tim, is his tie to his loved ones. He has proof (twice) that without it, he does not have access to the people he cares about and his support system.

Dick said a lot of pretty words about "equals," but his actions were precisely contradictory to his "intentions."

Tim has had Robin taken from him before or had to give it up. He chose to go back despite this. He obviously feels strongly about being Robin

Damian has not proven, at this point, to be trustworthy as a vigilante (someone in power without oversight). He has instead shown use of excessive force

This isn't even going into the way he found out. That's just an extra layer.

The way Tim has repeated lost and regained Robin (even after RR) as well as his title as Red ROBIN are, to me, a sign that he's still trying to hold on. It's my belief that he would have moved onto a new title, like his predecessors, if it hadn't constantly been an unsure role.

His start was rocky as hell due to Bruce not initially wanting it. Tim had to prove himself and put himself into the costume.

He "quit" twice before it was taken from him in a traumatic way (nothing like being instilled with the fear that the position you've held for four years can suddenly be yanked out from under you without warning)

Damian and Jason both vehemently protested to him being Robin

It would make sense if all of these factors combined to Tim's unwillingness or inability to just let Robin go, especially when we factor in his reason to be Robin. Since Bruce never really gets "better" and continually falls back into bad habits, Tim needs to maintain his task of pulling Bruce back from the edge. We could also throw Jean Paul into this to further how Tim is forced to play as the barrier between a grown adult and their desire to harm others in the name of good.

So, Tim's time as Robin is marked by consistent instability while contrasted with his inherent position as Bruce's leash and the batfam fixer. While the other Robins did have times of doubt, the predecessors of Tim did not have the pervasive role insecurity with regards to Robin.

They had their big moment at the end and some smaller moments in-between, but not quite on the continous scale of Tim. Tim had three big moments and was still sucked back into Robin when Damian quit.

To be Robin is to earn Bruce's love and the ability to be part of the Wayne family. To lose Robin is the risk of losing that (at least to the perspectives of the Robins if not 100% the reality).

I'm not sure I'm articulating this accurately. Regardless, no wonder Tim clutches the title of Robin with bleeding hands no matter how much it cuts him and costs him.

[tehrevving]

Have you ever thought how Dante and Heaven Sent AU reader path through deciding to have their daughter, pregnancy, and child birth would be like?

Like I'm a sucker for Dad Dante...any thing I can get on it?

....I kinda hate that the answer to this is yes lmao. I just wanna be here for the smut, why is there loreee??????? The next Heaven Sent, which has been a WIP for like 3 years at this point, focuses on Dante being a dad and his feelings around it. It’s very cute, but still a WIP lmao. I’ll finish it eventually I’m sure. Anywayyy

The having children conversation is just, “Hey Dante. It’s time for me to get my birth control replaced. What would you think about me uh, just not getting a new one put in?”

Dante panics for a second, and then throws her down on the desk, overcome with horny and breeding kink and she’s laughing cause the implant is still in lol.

So, fertility is supposed to take like 6+ months to return, or something like that. But 3 ish months after getting her birth control out, Dante wakes up one morning curled up on her stomach purring and the pieces get put together pretty quickly.

I’ve already kind of addressed previously the idea that being regularly exposed to ‘devil fluids’ enhances a normal human quite a bit. Her pregnancy is easy because of those enhancements, but the baby can sense Dante and is always restless when he’s not close by. Cue many humorous moments of things like, “I’m growing this damn thing and of course it only ever wants to be around you.”

(They also get married while she’s preggers hehehe)

Dante wants a kid but he’s also really uncertain and apprehensive. He worries about being a good dad but also his own strength and ability. He’s terrified he’s going to hurt the baby without even realising it. She reassures him with a simple, “We fuck while you’re triggered. You can work out how to hold a baby.” LOL

Anyway. She ends up having a C-section cause the baby is huge and very restless. It all happens very fast and it’s kind of an emergency, so before Dante can even really come to terms with what’s going on, this old nurse is barking at him to take his shirt off and a fresh, wet baby is thrust into his arms. He didn’t even have time to think about his strength or anything he’d been worried about. The baby stops crying immediately once they’re against his chest, and Dante immediately falls in love with his little bundle of white hair and green eyes 🥹

[ahotmesswithprivilege]

Never Alone

paring: Bradley Bradshaw x female!IC!reader (callsign Nike )

wordcount: ca. 3700 (only because this will be a multi-part thing XD)

synopsis: When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser he has a plan for the night. Take her home, fuck her, kick her out. Not that this was something he did often but with the stress at work he needed to let off some steam. That is until he hears someone crying and his night takes a turn he hadn't expected at all.

note: I initially intended to post the whole thing (currently at almost 12000 words 🤯 ), but I really wanted to post a new piece and since I started a lot of new WIP instead of finishing something I thought this would be a good idea. Also, my Rooster debut so to speak (you can thank @mynameismckenziemae for this one. The fact that Rooster is the hero in this one is kind of on her 😅 . Thanks for helping me decide and for listening to my rambles on the regular. I am really thankful for the support) and I hope you all like it. And you know that navy inaccuracies are a given with my stuff, but this time I went a bit more ham than usual. The role of IC (Incident Commander) is existing in crisis and natural disaster management but fuck if I know if some work for the Navy. I made all of that up for the sake of the plot. Don't like that, please skip this one. And last but not least, yes this is yet again very self-indulgent stuff and it will get only worse with the next part, so if you don't like it, click off 😘

Trigger Warning(If I forgot something or you want me to add to the list, my inbox is wide open. You are responsible for your media consumption, so proceed with caution, you know the drill): plus-size!reader, military/navy inaccuracies, non-canon (not even sure if this is canon compliant so, take that as you will), allusion to trauma/dissociative episode, written by a non-native speaker

|| Masterlist ||

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics banner by @firefly-graphics gif by @jensens-ackles

!!!Minors do not interact! I block blank blogs/without age/Minors!!!

When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser on his arm he knows how this is gonna end. Take her home, have some fun and then kick her out. He wasn't one to indulge often, but considering how Maverick had been on his ass during training all week, he really needed to let off some steam. His arms were wrapped around her waist, lips wandering over her neck as he manoeuvred her back towards his Bronco until he stopped in his tracks.

There it was again. He had almost missed it with the busty brunette giggling into his ear, but he was sure that he heard right. "Hey Casanova, I am down here", she puts a hand on his cheek to pull his focus back to her," You wanted to show me a good time, remember?" But Rooster couldn't focus on the way her hands were roaming his body or the way she began to kiss his jaw, leaving a trace of lipgloss in her wake. "Didn't you hear that? Someone's crying" "That's just a girl who got what you promised me", she retorts, but it only makes him cringe. If this is how she imagined the sound of a consenting couple, he sure as fucking hell didn't want her in his bed.

Untangling himself from her limbs he walked over to the dark place next to a huge palm tree. The curled-up figure was barely visible in the shadows, but the sniffling was getting louder the closer he walked. "Hey what about me?", the woman whines, stomping her high heel sandal-clad foot on the ground. "Go in and find yourself another set of tags", he growls back annoyed, regretting the tone of his voice and the volume the moment he sees the figure flinch.

This was bad.

For a moment he wondered if he should call Phoenix or even Penny to make sure he wasn't doing more damage than good, but then he saw how a ring caught the light from the Hard Deck entrance. He knows that ring. The silver laurel branches that are winding around a delicate finger. He has seen it more than once.

"Nike?", he freezes for a moment unable to compute the situation. He had been at the Hard Deck all night and was sure he would have spotted you in the crowd. Not to mention that you weren't one for bars. You said as much yourself whenever one of the others had invited you for an evening out. "Hey Nike, it's me. Rooster", he tries to make himself small as he approaches, not wanting to intimidate you, voice soft and gentle. "Are you...", he begins before he stops himself. Was he really just about to ask you if you were ok? It's so goddamn fucking obvious that you are not, so he settles for something else. "What happened, Nike?" You were still sitting there, legs pulled close to your body, head resting on your knees as you cried. He moved another step closer when you suddenly looked up at him as if only now you realised that someone was there. "Rooster?"

Your chest was heaving, your fingers nervously drumming on your kneecaps while you tried to focus on him, clearly struggling with the situation "Yeah. It's me. Shall I call someone?", he asked and as soon as he mentioned the call you began frantically shaking your head, reaching a trembling hand out to him to grab the wrist of the hand that was about to reach into his pocket. "No, please don't" He pulls his hand back out of his pocket and lifts it up in the air to signal surrender. "Ok, I'm not"

Bradley only knows you as IC. The woman for the impossible jobs and who you call when shit hit the fan and you need someone to fix it. A woman tough as nails and level-headed who always has a backup plan for the backup plan to make sure you got your people home safe and you were fucking brilliant at it. They named you after the goddess of victory for a reason. Whenever he was on a mission you were responsible for he felt a lot calmer and he knew he wasn't the only one. People trusted your competence and your judgement. They trusted you.

Hell, you were probably the only person on planet Earth to tell Admiral Simpson no if you thought something was a shitty idea and lived to tell the tale.

"Then say what you need Nike. Please?", he pleads feeling completely helpless. He has never seen you so utterly terrified and there is a feeling rising in his chest that makes him want to knock on the door of whoever left you so scared and very impolitely beat the shit out of them. You loosen the grip on his wrist and let your hand glide down his arm until yours is in his and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. Even with his fingers wrapped around yours, he can feel the trembling. When you finally answer him your voice is barely above a whisper. "A place to stay"

He didn't need to hear anything else. He just nodded and pulled you up by the hand that was still clinging to his own. Your feet were wobbly and the heels didn't make it any better. His eyes wandered over you, assessing whether there was any injury that he had to be mindful of before he let go of your hand for a second, the terror lighting back up in your eyes immediately. "It's ok, Nike. I am here", his voice is low and raspy as he places one hand on your back and bends down, placing the other under your knees to pick you up bridal style. He felt the way your body seemed to relax in his hold, face buried in his neck as he rested his head on yours before he murmured into your hair. "Let's get you home"

At a red light on the drive to his place he looks down where your hand is still holding his, his thumb gently petting the back of your hand while your head rested on his shoulder. In all the years of knowing you, he's never seen you so close to someone else. You usually prefer to keep people out of your personal space. It was something everyone on base respected and that makes him wonder.

You were so strong, so resourceful and intelligent. You had seen so much shit in your life and 9 times out of ten they called you in when it already hit the fan, so you were no stranger to working under immense pressure, the lives of people depending on the shots you were calling. How could someone bring you into a position where you would be so utterly terrified that it'd push you into a state that looked like a full-blown anxiety attack?

Considering the pretty dress, the heels and your by now smudged make-up it was likely you'd been out today and since bars and clubs are not your scene, he figures it must have been a restaurant. The thought that someone treated you so badly was infuriating him. You had dedicated your life to protecting people, making sure that they get back home to their families and loved ones unharmed. To treat someone like you bad enough to send you spiralling called for a grade-A asshole and a part of him hoped you'd tell him the name later. He would gladly pay that asshat a visit and he would bet, the rest of the dagger squad would happily tag along.

It's not much later when he puts the Bronco in park in front of his house, feeling the way you instantly stiffen next to him. "I'll go ahead and open the door", your grip around his hand tightens even more. You are holding on to him for dear life. Bradley Bradshaw was your lifeline right now and to be someone you trusted so much filled his heart with pride. He only wished he would have found out under different circumstances.

"I'll be right back, Nike", he hears you stifle a sob while you tremble. Whether it's the chill night air or your fear, he is not quite sure and so he leans to the side to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You tell me when you are ready", he adds, pulling you into an embrace as the two of you sit here in his car. He'd stay here with you for hours if you needed it. "Promise you'll come back" "I promise", he looks down at you and you nod. Letting go of his hand so he can get out of the car. Brad cannot remember any other time when he ran up the steps to his house this fast, unlocking the door and grabbing the quilt from his couch before he gets right back to you.

Seeing the way your eyes light up when you see him as he opens the car door makes his heart soar and ache at the same time. "Told you, I'd come for you Nike", he steps closer and gently places the blanket around your shoulders and when he picks you up again he feels how you instantly melt into his embrace. "I'll always come for you"

He tried to kick his front door closed as quietly as he could to not spook you even more and kept the lights off too as he made his way to his bedroom. From there he goes into the en-suite and sits you down on the counter. "Blanket on or off?" "Off" He nods, taking the colourful patchwork off of your shoulders and throwing it in the corner where he usually stores his dirty laundry. He could deal with that some other time. "I'll turn on my bedside lamp in the other room. Close your eyes and I’ll tell you when to look”, he was looking for any sign that you needed another moment but you nodded.

So he turns around and walks into his bedroom, turning on the lamp and throwing the next best piece of fabric over it to dim the light. It was enough to see something but not too much on your eyes that had probably gotten used to the darkness outside. "You can open your eyes", he says, turning back to look at you, eyes wandering over you for a moment to see if there was any injury that he had missed in the darkness outside the Hard Deck but he couldn't find anything. On his way back to you he rummaged around in his drawer, finding a Phillies jersey that could fit you if the dress wasn't comfortable enough for you to sleep in.

"I'm back", he announces himself and sees how your entire body relaxes, shoulders lowering and fingers no longer playing nervously with your ring. "I'm gonna take your shoes off first" He throws the jersey over his shoulder before he goes down on his knees, unlacing your oxford heels, every move slow and deliberate, before he places them down on the floor under the cabinet, to get them out of the way. He is looking up at you from his crouched position. He wants to seem as non-threatening as possible for what comes next.

"Do you want to keep your dress on or change into a shirt?", he asks, taking the jersey from his shoulder and showing it to you. He sees the way you are contemplating for a long while, brow furrowed and teeth sinking into your lower lip before you reach out for the worn-out material. It's soft and you are digging your fingers into the material and holding onto it the way you'd been holding onto his hand. Holding on for dear life.

"Want me to stay or wait outside?", he asks, not wanting to put you into a worse situation than you are already in. Damn, he wished you would have allowed him to get Phoenix or Penny, then this would have been not as bad by a long shot. You are quiet for a while and he wonders if you've drifted off again the way he found you in front of the Hard Deck, but then your gaze finds his and you take a deep breath. "Can you help with the zipper?" "Of course"

He gets up and watches you jump off the counter, your stance much more stable now that the heels are off. It's more the look he's used of you and it gives him the feeling that he's at least doing something right here. You turn around, his jersey still pressed to your chest, looking down at the washed-out red and white fabric as if it gave you some form of solace. Bradley takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours in the mirror to make sure you know what would come next and when you give him a nod he reaches out his hand, gently pulling down the zipper. Underneath the fabric is some sort of underdress all laced up with a pretty bow. Fuck. He would have never taken you for the corset-wearing type of gal.

You let the dress slide down to the floor before you pull his jersey over your head. He wants to help you to smooth it down your body but you shake your head and his hands are off immediately. "Sorry" "No...Can you untie...?" This time he's the one nodding, letting his hands glide under the fabric, pulling at the laces to undo the bow and then loosening them enough so you could let it glide down your body too and step out. The pile of fabric, tulle and boning is on the floor and he sees that you attempt to lean down, your hand on the counter for balance in order to pick your clothes up but he's faster. "Thank you" “I can put this on a hanger for you”, he nods over to where he usually stores his drying shirts. “There are loops...”, you start and he easily finds them, placing them on the hanger's hooks before he puts them on the clothes rail. As his eyes wander over the dress, he's wondering for a moment who you had met to doll up like this. "Anything else?"

He sees the way you are thinking, fighting with yourself "Whatever it is, if I can do it, I will" "Can you help with the stockings?" You don't meet his eye, probably embarrassed to make yourself vulnerable in front of a coworker like this but right now Rooster doubts that there is anything in this world he wouldn't do for you.

So for the second time tonight, Bradley Bradshaw lets himself fall onto his knees, feeling your hand on his shoulder for support while both hands are smoothing up your calf to your knee and under the jersey, feeling where the nylon ended so he could pull it down for you. His eyes are glued to the ground to make this at least a little less awkward for you. Once the fabric is gone, he switches to the other side and repeats the same movement before he looks up at you, the bunched-up material ending up under the sink next to your shoes.

"You good, Nike?", he asks, eyes searching your face for any sign that he's overstepped but all he finds is that gentle expression of fondness on your face, not quite a smile but considering the circumstances, Bradley would settle for this. You give him a small nod, hand moving from his shoulder closer to the crook of his neck, fingers lingering on his scars and Brad couldn't help but close his eyes at the gentle touch, willing his body to stay perfectly still to not destroy this moment of peace. Not for you and not for him. "Thank you Rooster", he's had your voice in his ear so often, assertive and commanding, but now your voice was gentle, as much a caress for him as your fingers. "For you, always", he looks up at you and for a moment he feels like the world stops turning and he wonders if given another chance at a different time, you would return to his home and allow him to prove to you that there were men out there who could treat you right.

When you finally pull back your hand he slowly moves up to stand before you, towering over you but you don't flinch. Bradley Bradshaw doesn't make you feel you need to and he cannot help but feel a pride rising in his chest that of all people, you chose him to put your trust in. "Now let's get you into bed", he steps to the side, letting you walk past him with his hand hovering over the small of your back. His hand wants to touch, but he doesn't want to push. Not after the night you had. That is until he realises that you are walking towards the door.

"Where do you think you are going?" "Couch" Fuck no. He would not make you sleep on that thing that was short and so worn out that it'd surely break your back. But what was even worse than the idea of you on his couch was the fact you believed that he would allow, let alone want that. Getting his hands back on you he picks you up bridal style and carries you back over to the bed. "You take the bed" "Rooster..." "No" There is a small smile playing on his lips. It reminds him of the first time he met you way back when.

You had just finished the mission briefing when Hangman suggested a change to the plans and your only reply was: "No" "What no?" "No", you looked Hangman straight in the eyes, pretty brow arched, and everyone in the room could feel the fury start to simmer in Hangman's veins at the way you're dismissing him and his points so easily. "No is a complete sentence, Lieutenant Seresin. Considering your reputation as base casanova I was hoping you'd understand the concept" That was the moment Rooster knew that he liked you.

Rooster was a navy guy and could sleep wherever, even on the hardwood floor if he had to, but you needed some proper rest. He lays you down on the bed as gently as possible and when he straightens his back he sees the expression on your face. It's such a wild swirl of emotions that are washing over your features, ever-changing like the ocean, that he doesn't know what to expect next, but it sure as hell wasn't this. "I'm scared of being alone"

He knows that this is far more than a simple statement. It is your way to ask for him to stay, to have him around for your comfort. It's not like he doesn't want to, but there is a part of him that wonders if this would be something you'd come to regret the next morning. He had always known you as someone who loved her personal space, avoiding even handshakes whenever you could. He had his hands all over you tonight and he didn't want to push his luck, but then he saw your pleading eyes and he smiled down at you. "I'll just get into some comfortable clothes and then I'm right back", he leans down and presses a soothing kiss to your forehead. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this soft around someone and yes, the circumstances were shitty at best, but there was a part of his heart that revelled in the gentleness of these moments. "Thank you, Bradley"

He has to stop himself for a moment, eyes wide with surprise as he looks at you. Never before have you used his first name. It was always Lieutenant, Bradshaw, Rooster or a combination of those three, usually depending on how pissed you were at him for fucking around with your meticulous mission plans. There was a flicker of fear that washed over your face as the realisation hit you what you just said but he reached out his hand, gently resting on your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. "No need to thank me, Nike. I am glad if I can help"

He allows himself another moment to enjoy the feeling of your soft skin against his before he pulls back and turns to grab some fresh clothes to sleep in and heads to the bathroom. His movements are hurried, almost frantic while he gets out of his clothes and ready for bed. All the while feeling a fear creeping up on him. He closed the door, to make sure to respect your boundaries but now he regretted it. It meant he couldn't check in on you, couldn't make sure that you were ok and not spiralling. Throwing his worn clothes over to the hamper without caring if he actually hit or not he just pulls on his sweat pants and opens the door, muscle shirt still in hand as he walks into the bedroom and pulls it over his head.

When he reached the bed where you had curled up already, he crouched down to be on eye level with you. “Tell me what you need from me", his voice is soft and quiet as he talks, pushing a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear. He sees how you try to sink even deeper into the pillow as if you wanted to hide from him and that makes his heart ache. "Remember Nike. Whatever you need as long as I can make it happen, you'll get it" "Can you...", your voice is barely above a whisper and when he tries to meet your gaze you turn around and scoot over on the bed to make room for him. "I just really don't want to be alone"

You feel the way the mattress is dipping under his weight but you cannot bring yourself to turn around and look him in the eye. "You are not alone Nike", his voice is close to your ear and you can feel the way his breath is fanning out over your cheek and neck. And then you surprise him when you reach behind him and take his hand to place it over your waist, your fingers interlaced with his as your thumb drummed a nervous rhythm into the palm of his hand. "You are never alone"

Part 2

likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated as always

If you want to read more you can find my masterlist HERE

[dinogoofymutated]

Cable/GN!Reader Okay, so I'm on my Cable shit again. I found this WIP and a couple others for him and GODDD UGH I'm so fucking obsessed. Love a good danger room sparring scene so this one was just for fun ;) I'd consider it part of the tender moments series I have going on, but you don't need to read the other two to understand this one. TWS: Kinda spicy, no smut. Making out, sparring, Nate being an absolute goofball in his own way. Caught by the parents trope (sorry Scott). Short but cute.

    Cable’s gun was smoking by the time the two of you cleared the last level of the danger room, and you were having the time of your life. You were tired, sure. But there was just something about the danger room that gave you such an adrenaline rush, and you were sure it might just be that you don’t actually have to worry about dying in here compared to real fights (mostly, at least). 

    You were having fun, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have a plan to excite the day a little further.

    “Alright, Last level finished. We should clear out for the others.” Cable says to you, switching the safety on his gun as he sets it to the side, stretching his arms and shoulders.

    “Well, actually…” You don’t even have to finish the thought, Nathan raising an eyebrow at you as he stands up to his full height, crossing his arms at you.

    “Seriously? You requested extra time to spar?” He asks, and even though he’s frowning, you can tell he’s poking fun at you. You shrug at him, looking up at him with an excited smile on your face.

    “Yeah? Why not?” You ask, knowing full well that you had never sparred with Nathan before despite the many years the two of you have been a team. Nate lets out an amused hum, looming before you as he squares his shoulders.

    “You realize that I’m twice your size, right?” Nathan says, an amused smile on his face.

    “And? Come on Nate, It’s not like I haven't fought someone your size before.” You tell him, and it makes Nathan laugh.

    “You mean the times I had to step in to save your sorry ass?” He says, causing your smile to drop into a pout as you start to deny it, just for him to flood your mind with somewhat embarrassing memories of him doing just that.

    “I- would you cut that out!” You scold, slapping his arm just to immediately try to hide the fact that it hurt- the sting of the metal a sharp pain across your palm. He chuckles at the action anyway- but you’ve never been a quitter.

     “-It’s starting to sound like you’re just making excuses, old man.” You say instead, and his eyes narrow at the name. He tilts his head at you with a dry expression like he’s asking if you're absolutely sure you want to play this game today, only for you to stubbornly meet his gaze with a defiant smirk.

    He doesn't stop to reply, instead immediately rushing you.

    He catches you off-guard at first, taking the breath out of you for a moment before you’re quickly ducking under his arms. Escaping him before he can get a good grip on you. If there was one thing that always surprised you, it was how Nathan managed to be so quick despite his huge stature. It’s hard to go blow to blow with him due to the size difference between the two of you, but you manage to get more than a few good hits in. You don’t know how long the two of you spar for, but when Nate finally kicks your legs out from underneath you and pins you to the ground, you’re too tired to fully fight back.

    The two of you are heaving, grinning at each other as your gaze stays locked, and even though you’re outmatched, you’re still unwilling to give up. Nathan gives you a judging stare as he hears the thought, unable to understand why you’re just so stubborn. Sure, he technically had bested you- calling just about every move you made down to the T due to his abilities, but you found that the best way to take Nathan by surprise was to act on impulse. 

    “Don’t be stubborn. You know you’ve been-” Nate lets out a surprised noise as you cut him off with a kiss, dragging him down closer to you by his broad shoulders. He’s stiff and surprised for a moment before he relaxes into the kiss. You had originally planned for this to be a distraction, but lord knows that you should have realized you would quickly be too caught up in the feeling of him against you to remember or care about what you were doing before.

    Nathan nips at your lips as one of his hands slides under your back to support you, the other keeping himself propped up against the tile floors. You let him take charge in the kiss as your hands wander up and down his clothed chest, drifting down to yank his shirt out of his belt so that you can touch his bare abdomen instead. Nate sighs into the kiss, adjusting so that he can press his knee against your core, causing you to moan into the kiss as his hand begins to slide your shirt off and he begins to kiss down your jaw and neck, just barely beginning to ravish you completely when the door slides open with a swish.

    “WOAH!” A voice calls out from the doorway, one you recognize instantly. You and Nathan separate, both startled by the sudden intrusion. Scott quickly covers his sunglass-covered eyes he looks away, embarrassed. You swear that you and Nate had never separated so quickly before, trying to make yourselves proper as you stand up and turn to face his young father.

    “I was- Uh, I was going to tell you two that dinner was ready.” Scott stutters out, still covering his eyes.

    “Oh! I didn't notice how long we had been in here!” You ramble, nervously fidgeting with your hands as you pretend to check the time. “Thank you for coming to get us.” You continue nervously, knowing for a fact you were only digging your hole deeper. Maybe once you’re done digging you can lie down inside of it and die from this horrible embarrassment.

    Thank him or apologize or something! You think pointedly at Cable while you're standing there, and all he does is give you an incredulous look.

    I’m not doing -either-. He interrupted us! Nathan tells you, returning the thought without so much as speaking a word.

    That’s because we were about to- You can't bring yourself to finish the sentence, blushing intensely at the images you think of as you picture exactly what you wanted him to do to you on the danger room floor. You see a light blush rise to Nathan’s cheeks too, despite his ever-grumpy expression. -WAIT!- Not the point! It- Damnit! PUBLIC space, Nathan! Public space!!! Damn your stupid intrusive thoughts! You know you’re completely flustered and embarrassed, unable to actually believe that you were just walked in on by Nathan’s young father.

    Scott finally turns to leave for a moment, and you feel the tension in your shoulders let up a bit when the doors slide shut, only for your anxiety to spark immediately after when the doors swoosh open again, Scott still standing there with his eyes covered.

    “I, uh, since you’re both grown adults and everything, I assume I don’t need to give you the talk, Right?” Scott asks, and if you could shrivel up and die right at this moment in time, you would gladly do so.

    “Oh my god.” You sat, covering your red face.

    “No, Dad! Could you just leave already?!” Nathan finally yells, and for a moment you wonder if all this embarrassment you’re feeling is coming from him, too. Scott nods vigorously, letting out a quiet, “Yeah, Yup.” as he quickly and finally leaves the room. 

    Both of you let out a sigh of relief when he’s gone, still embarrassed to the very core at bening caught like that.

    “Jesus Christ, we look like a couple of horny teens or something, getting caught like that.” You mumble after a long pause, trying to shake it off. You hear Nathan snort from next to you, and you give him a confused look. 

    “Who’s we?” He asks. You roll your eyes and he lets out an amused huff at the sight.

    I’ve seen every corner of your mind, Sweetpea. You can’t hide your thoughts from me. Nate tells you, flashing the images of some of your dirtiest and most inappropriate thoughts about him in your mind. You were sure there was so much blood rushing to your face at this point that it was about to explode.

    “Would you, please, stop that!”

[makeyoumine69]

Hello dear people in my beloved American Psycho fandom! I couldn't force myself to write this post because I didn't know how to do it, but I think now is the right time. I promised myself not to bring personal stuff into my writing, but since one thing affects another, I think I should finally speak up.

This year started pretty bad for me, I was suffering from a huge apathy and my mental health was probably in the worst state in the last few years. I had to cut ties with a lot of people and distance myself, and I'm really sorry for doing that, but I had no choice because I was literally dying from the inside. When I came back to Tumblr in 2022, I was absolutely alone and I had no friends, no followers and in some ways I felt calm and peaceful. I always thought and probably still think that I should be alone and isolated from everyone, like a soulless writing machine just producing fanfictions for people to consume. Maybe this is not a bad thing, because interacting with people always carries the risk of getting bruised?

Anyway, the thing that broke me completely was the news I received in the last days of January that I would be fired in February because my company decided to close the project I was working on due to the high inflation and bad economic situation in Russia. So now I have to find a job within February because I have a lot of financial responsobilities like paying for the medical treatment my family is getting. My grandmother was diagnosed with kidney cancer and her surgery was paid for by me and my fiancé, but the medicine costs a lot, so… after I told my mom about my news, she blamed me for everything. I was not really surprised though, considering that I have been having fights with my whole family for the past few months over different topics, but mostly they hate me for my political opinions. Whenever I say that I am tired of the war, sanctions and all the other stuff that 2022 has brought, they call me a fucking traitor. My family is ready to cancel me just because I told them I was tired of living in isolation, that I had even forgotten what my life was like before the war. My fiancé is literally the only person in my family who supports me, and even though I'm going to lose my job, he told me he would do anything for me, for us, but I don't want to be a burden. I'm really scared about the future, I think I really am now.

So, I'm sorry for not finishing the Christmas fics I promised to post, I'll try to finish them soon. Also, I'm sorry for not being active with fulfilling the requests and replying to your asks. I'm really sorry. And I know some of you might think that why I keep writing new series and working on different stuff while I have WIPs I need to finish—I'm just trying to follow my muse and I can say that it's really unstable these days, but I'm really trying to do my best and deliver something good for all of you!

I also want to thank all of you who have supported me with your donations! It means the world to me! Unfortunately, my account on the platform I was using for donations has been suspended because of… DOLLARS! They think I'm a scammer or something because the dollar is such a cursed currency in Russia right now, so I don't know if they'll unban my account, I hope they will.

Okay, that was longer than I thought it would be. To end this crazy rant, I just want to thank you guys for sticking with me no matter how fucked up I might be! I believe that one day I will find my way back to myself so that I can come back strong and refreshed!

[foxs0x]

I am literally a graphic designer for my career but I couldn't be fucked editing a template, so here's how my art has evolved in the last 12 months!

January - @meanbossart 's Dark Urge

This was the first digital thing I'd done in over a year at this point. I took an extended break from art because my (old) job was ruining my mental health. (Which is why I quit it :D !) And his Drow character is really well thought out and very unique so I had to draw him. (His art is also very inspiring to me so check out his page!)

February - was still in my Baldur's Gate kick and loved that lizard (still do) and it was also my first time doing environmental art. I couldn't figure out how to do the "mood" I was imagining so I had to look up famous movie shots that were noir, dark and moody to figure out what the heck to do.

MORE UNDER THE CUT 👇😁

March - My D&D character Istdrin, a Drow sorcerer who was sexually attracted to spiders... And got eaten by spiders. (I had to make a new character after this 🤣) Rest in peace you sick fuck

April - Astarion, my fave BG3 companion (besides Wyll & Shadow heart!) I wanted to design a fancy suit for him and a modern haircut.

May - my first drawing of my V (Vicentije.) I had just bought Phantom Liberty at this point and was also trying to figure out how to draw him and how I imagine he would look. Alas I am a console player so I can't mod his tattoos in or his face sculpt etc. (but in a few months I'll finally have saved enough money for a PC haha!) he's gone through a few changes design-wise and I'm still tweaking him tbh

June - first art for my fanfic End Transmission

I just finished Phantom Liberty and had this idea brewing in my head. I'd also started writing my fic too! I'm not really happy with V:s face here and I've also since made more changes to his design, so he doesn't even have these tattoos anymore lol! (Except for the 13 on his forehead because he is unlucky)

July (??) (nothing)

August - Johnny Silverhand

I actually did this right before I went to America this year. I was drawing this at the Sydney airport and painting it on the flight to Los Angeles. I am still really happy with how this turned out.

September - I did this in my downtime while in the states. I started drawing the frames in my first week in America (while I was at my aunties house in Los Angeles) and finished it during hurricane Francine in New Orleans!

October - Johnny Silverhand again! I tried drawing a few comic panels of my fanfic End Transmission when I got back to Australia.

November - original character I'm working on. He's an ugly vampire who was an artist in his human life and made very beautiful things.

December (??)

Nothing really for December yet lol! Just lots of wips and ideas I'm still working on

Overall my art has made a HUGE improvement this year. I've been focusing on better quality lines the last two months but all year I've been working on more dynamic poses and colouring!!

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 3

Hello! If you haven't seen it yet, I've got a set schedule for what story posts on what days now (as seen here) and this one as well as Well Met By Moonlight, Batshit Soulmates, and Never Hold Back Your Step... will still be posting just on rotation until I can finish some of my WIPs. (I may be stretching myself a bit thin having six going at the same time.)

In this one we have the concert. Eddie stumbles on something big and doesn't know how to deal with it all. And Uncle Wayne is bestest as always.

@emly03 @redfreckledwolf @itsall-taken @rozzieroos @mira-jadeamethyst

Part 1 Part 2

****

The day of the concert dawned abhorrently cheerful and bright. Not a cloud in the sky or any accidents that would prevent Eddie from having to take Dustin to this event. He wouldn’t deign to call it a concert. He had heard the album and seen their posters, but he refused to wander over to YouTube and watch videos of their concerts, interviews, their music videos.

He didn’t want to be even more disappointed that they were all flash and no substance then he was sure he was going to be for the next two hours.

Dustin rolled his eyes when Eddie parked in the huge concert parking lot.

“You’re just salty because I like them as much as I like Corroded Coffin,” he huffed getting out the car. “You have to concede that Abaddon’s vocals are killer.”

Eddie scoffed. “Do not. I haven’t heard them live. Way too many artists use autotune too much these days.”

“You sound like that meme,” he sneered, “‘Old Man Yells at Cloud’.”

Eddie swatted at him playfully. “Am not.” Dustin raised his eyebrow skeptically and he threw his arms in the air. “I’m not. I am a very serious musician, Dusty. The last thing metal needs is some band that can’t write or even play their own instruments. This isn’t pop.”

“You are such an asshole,” he said and turned toward the entrance, leaving Eddie to jog to catch up with him.

Eddie sighed and put his arm around Dustin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I am being an asshole. I turned into the person I swore I would never be. Those shit for brains critics that hated Corroded Coffin when we first got on the scene. And that was wrong of me.”

Dustin sighed, too. “I just want you to like them too. They are so good if you’d just give them a chance.”

Eddie breathed out through his nose. “Yeah. I can at least give them that.”

They got to their seats and Eddie was a little impressed at Claudia Henderson’s Ticket Master foo. They weren’t front row, but they were only a couple of rows back so you could actually see the stage without having to strain their necks and smack dab in the center of the row.

Dustin would have the best time. And now it was up to Eddie not ruin it for the kid. Because yes, he was still a kid as far as Eddie was concerned. Twenty-one was so fucking young. That was how old most of the band was when they got their record deal, after all. They weren’t prepared for what came next, that’s for sure.

They got settled into their seats and Eddie watched as the rest of the crowd shuffled in. They were all about Dustin’s age with very few exceptions in either direction.

There seemed to be a color theme going on with the girls in the audience though. They were grouped in clumps of red, black, blue, or white. Which made sense if each band member stuck to a certain color palette.

Well he was about to find out, he supposed.

The lights dimmed. The crowd quieted down. The spotlight lit up the drumkit first. And Eddie knew that Gareth would be drooling over it. It was all black with black metal fittings. The kit seemed to collect light almost like a blackhole.

Then from the ceiling, a man dressed all in black being lowered onto the stage with large black raven wings on his back. He wore a black hooded coat over what, Eddie couldn’t tell. It was all black. The shirt, the pants, the boots. Even his mask was all black with even the eyes appearing closed. His feet touched the ground and the crowd went wild.

“Azrael!” the announcer called out.

Azrael settled on the throne and picked up black drum sticks.He counted time above his head and played a wicked solo to the adoring crowd’s absolute delight.

Dustin jumped up and down, screaming.

The spotlight moved to the right side of stage and the next band member descended from the ceiling. Large bat wings adorned his back and he was dressed in red leather fetish gear. Complete with tight leather pants that looked painted on and a matching harness highlighting his bare chest, peeking out from the red leather hooded coat.

His guitar was fucking gorgeous, though. A Warlock, much like Eddie’s own. It was custom painted red with black flames licking up the neck.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but it seemed he was the only one who thought the whole thing was over the top judging from the screams from the girls in the audience.

He didn’t just land gently on the stage like the drummer did, oh no. He fucking stomped onto the stage with a howl.

His wings, like the drummer’s ascended back into the rafters as the announcer shouted, “Asmodeus!”

And then Eddie really did roll his eyes. The demon of lust. Of course he was.

But seconds later Eddie’s jaw dropped to the floor as the man wailed on his guitar driving the crowd further into the frenzy.

Once he finished his solo the crowd quieted again and he could see why. Because just then, descending on gossamer wings that shimmered like starlight, was their bassist.

Everything about him was midnight blue and shimmering like the night. His mask was the face of the moon. He had his own hooded coat, but it was like the night sky, with some kind of crystal or gem sewn in to make the coat glimmer like stars.

His bass was something that Brian would have sold his own mother for and they were as thick as thieves. Eddie didn’t know much about basses considering his sweetheart was an electric guitar, but he could tell it wasn’t expensive but was perfect for his style. A style he showed off with gusto to the audience’s obvious delight.

“Astraeus!” the announcer cried.

Eddie decided that this one was his favorite. It played up the whole mysterious thing without the over the top flash of the guitarist or the sheer void of the drummer.

The audience hushed as the three members of the band began to play what was clearly the lead singer’s entrance music.

And holy fuck was Eddie screwed. This man was descending like a fucking angel sent from God, Jesus pose and all.

He was all in white with an opaque lace mask that had his mouth and chin cut out for him to sing. That surprised Eddie somewhat. He figured that the guy would have his whole face covered like everyone else in the band and that he could lip sync.

But nope. Apparently no one in this band did anything by halves.

The lead singer was wearing a sheer mesh crop top under the hooded floor length coats the whole band was wearing. Only his was white with a silk powder blue lining.

Eddie winced in sympathy. They must get boiling under the lights with those things on.

A few feet from the stage floor there was an explosive pop! And the feathers from his wings flew out into the crowd who was now screaming as if their life depended on the sheer volume coming out them. He looked over at Dustin who was no different.

When Eddie could see the stage again, this angel’s wings were now skeletal and gothic.

He landed in front of microphone whose stand had been decorated with a scarf in each of of the band members’ signature colors.

“Abbadon!” the announcer yelled for the final time.

And Eddie was in love. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Dustin must have seen his expression because he was suddenly tugging on Eddie’s arm and screaming, “I told you!!”

“Indy!” Abbadon growled, grabbing the mic. “Thank you so much for having us! Let’s get this started.”

Then he began to sing and yeah, Eddie knew that the guy had charm, but this was a whole new level of epic. He was enthralled.

He didn’t utter a fucking word for several songs. But then it happened. Eddie couldn’t believe it. He hurried to snap a picture to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

But there it was it in living color. He turned to Dustin to see if he saw it too, but the kid was too busy screaming and jumping up and down.

Eddie’s jaw fell.

That couldn’t be right, couldn’t it? That Dustin didn’t know? Eddie looked back up on stage and a lot of the puzzle pieces started slotting in place. His heart sank a little.

He shook his head to clear it of dark thoughts. He didn’t know the reason for any of this and leaping to conclusions would only get a shit ton of people hurt. Especially the boy next to him.

Eddie let the music wash over him. Let the magic of metal soothe his soul. Soon he was jumping up and down and headbanging with the rest of the crowd. Right hand flashing the devil’s horns, left hand out to steady himself he let himself enjoy the band’s stage presence.

****

To say that Eddie’s mind was fucking blown would be an understatement. He pestered Dustin all the way home with rapid fire questions. Where did the band tour last time? What was their schedule this time? Was it a six month tour or an eighteen month tour last time?

Dustin answered each question with growing excitement, thinking that Eddie had finally grown to love this band as much as he had.

Eddie on the other hand felt a growing sense of dread. Well... maybe dread was the wrong word. It was certainly a sinking feeling. One he really had to exam closely.

At least he could honestly say that he fell in love with the music before he found out his little secret.

And fuck what a secret it was.

He dropped Dustin off at home and drove out to the ranch that he had gifted to Wayne when Corroded Coffin first made it big. It was a beautiful, sprawled out home surrounded by acres of land and Eddie loved it even more than Wayne did.

Eddie stumbled through the door and was surprised to see Wayne drinking hot chocolate and reading a sports magazine in his expensive recliner. And yet, at the same time, not really that surprised.

“You do realize I’m no longer that fucked up kid with anger issues,” Eddie huffed on his way to the kitchen to grab a beer, “that were almost as bad as the troubles with the law, right?”

Wayne chuckled. “Maybe so. But you’re still my boy and I’ll keep worrying about you until the day I die.”

Eddie popped open the can of beer and sat down on the sofa. He leaned his head back on the back cushion with a heavy sigh.

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “What’s stewing around in that head of yours?”

Eddie slowly raised his head. “What would you do if you accidentally found out something about a friend that they were keeping from everyone they knew?”

Wayne set down his magazine. “That would depend on the secret. Is it hurting anyone?”

“Is what hurting anyone?” Eddie asked. “The secret?” Wayne nodded and Eddie frowned, really thinking about it.

“Maybe some feelings,” he said after a moment. “But it’s not dangerous like they committed a crime or anything. It’s not even about their sexuality.”

Wayne hummed thoughtfully. “And is it a big secret or a little one?”

Again Eddie was forced to think hard about what that meant. “I guess it depends on the person, but in my eyes it’s pretty big.”

The elder Munson nodded. “Do you feel hurt by this secret?”

“Yeah, yeah. I guess I do.” He bowed his head and let out a shuddering breath.

“Is there a reason you think he wouldn’t have told you?” Wayne pressed.

“Of course no–” Eddie stopped as his brain caught up to his mouth. “Shit.”

Wayne raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Eddie admitted shyly. “There’s a pretty good reason why he wouldn’t have told me. And now I feel like the shit friend.”

Wayne stood up and pulled Eddie into a big hug. “Maybe so, but you have the time to course correct and show this friend that you are worthy of his secret.”

Eddie nodded. “Thanks, Uncle Wayne,” he mumbled into Wayne’s neck.

“I’m just glad I could help.”

****

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @goodolefashionedloverboi @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @yikes-a-bee @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @y4r3luv @cryptid-system @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

[ladysomething]

Do you think we can get a snippet of WYGIG or another WIP from you as a compensation for Ferrari not winning the WCC with a double podium? 😭

wygig snippet in another post, here is a fun little pwp that I'm soooo close to finishing!

Charles’ sim is good, but not as good as Max’s. 

That’s pretty much entirely because Charles doesn’t really care. He’s happy to drive on the sim sometimes, to refresh his memory and keep himself sharp, but it doesn’t bring him endless happiness like it does for Max. Spending hours staring at his computer screen is his definition of Hell. 

But this is about sex. It’s about beating Max. 

It’s serious. 

So on top of the €2000 entry fee, Charles shells out even more for a brand new rig. He gets a chair—one better than Max’s, because it’s actually got an incline like their actual cockpits, and he gets a couple more screens. He doesn’t actually need a wheel and pedal, because the ones he has are pretty good. 

When it all arrives, Max’s eyes almost bug out of his head. 

“What the fuck?” he asks, eyeing the huge box with the chair. 

Charles didn’t really realise it was going to come in pieces, but he has absolutely no intention of putting it together himself. He’s 100% confident he’ll be able to get Max to do it for him. 

“I thought it would be nice for me to embrace your hobbies,” Charles says placidly. “You know. See what the fuss is about.” 

Max’s shock softens into clear delight, and he smiles widely. “You’ll love it,” he promises. 

He stands by the door, watching Charles cut open the box. As Charles gets all the pieces out, he plays up his helplessness, dropping a particularly heavy piece, pretending he can’t find the instructions, hopelessly trying to stick together two pieces that clearly don’t go together. 

“You need some help, baby?” Max asks kindly, pushing off from the door. 

“Yeah,” Charles says, like he had no idea what he was doing and is relieved a big, strong man is coming to help him. “Thank you.” 

Max kneels beside him, genuinely happy to help, so Charles leans over to give him a kiss. 

“I’ll make lunch,” Charles says, clapping Max on the shoulder and smiling widely. 

Then leaves Max to it. 

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

19 Sentences - Rolan in Rut

Thank you to everyone who voted in my WIP game poll! Here's the final batch of sentences, one for every person who voted for "Submissive Rolan in Rut"! I've really got back into writing this one so... we'll see how soon I can get it finished. In the mean time, enjoy!

He only winces, his dark eyelashes blurring together with tears. The lines beside his eyes crease deeper, his lips arching higher - but he can’t stop another tear from sliding down his cheek, and you move to intercept it.

‘Please,’ you murmur, brushing it away. Rolan stares ahead, pretending not to feel your touch, but his sharp tooth eases a little where it digs into his lip. ‘I’ll admit, I don’t understand what makes this so different from any other time we have sex.’

‘There is…a knot, at the base, that locks the two together. Tiefling anatomy is complementary. You… would almost certainly find it uncomfortable.’

‘I like being full, Rolan. And even if I can’t fit it, I can help in other ways.’

‘You don’t understand,’ he chokes out bitterly. ‘It is more than filling, it is huge. And… rut requires more stimulation than normal, especially when - nngghh - I have come - too many times already -’

Squirming punctuates his words, his voice growing breathy. The situation is serious, you understand that, and you’re trying to stay focused but - it’s unbearably obvious that he’s aroused, more so by the second, and your cunt is growing hot and swollen in reply, demanding that you stop thinking and just take him.

‘What are you thinking?’ Rolan gasps suddenly, and you realise you’re half-growling, half-sneering with lust, your lips curled back at the sight of the desperate man beside you. Beneath you, you want him beneath you - fuck - 

Wiping your mouth, you pull yourself together.

[alllgator-blood]

Do you like ships? 👉👈

Oh god uhhhh I've made my thoughts on narilamb and leshycat known (I don't hate them, the art can be really cute/funny I just see those ships more often than any other cotl art....) and the other ships just aren't interesting to me personally. Forneus and heket have super cute art from what I've seen but that's just because I'm biased as a Large Butch Individual. I'm in this fandom for the family dynamics personally so I'm not here for romance stuff.

BUT I DO HAVE ONE SHIP. I talked about it in like april?? I think?? I didn't say who it was but I have multiple WIPs of those two and it was a huge part of my au comic that got so long I'll never end up finishing it. I'm not sure these two characters have ever even been drawn together one-on-one, let alone shipped so I'm curious to see if anyone can figure it out.

Some of the traits they both canonically share are: abnormal eye contact compared to the other characters. Powerful enough to disassemble you instantly but chill enough to hold back. The only words/phrases they can't define are probably "brevity" and "shutting the fuck up". One of em is a bishop but that much was obvious. ONE OF THEM HAS MENTIONED THE OTHER IN-GAME...

If anyone guesses it I'll try to finish some of the art I've made of them cause I never thought I'd post it