#no matter how hard they try to alter it

[hey-rissyroo]

Absolute 💯 Proof that Steve & Bucky were, are and will forever be True Loves, Best Friends, Soulmates, OTP, Boyfriends, Husbands and Loves of Each Other 's Life! 💖 NOTHING and NO ONE can say otherwise, Dammit!!!!!

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"King" Mordred Alter, False Ascendant to the Throne(Avenger)

Ascension Stages:

First Stage: Mordred Alter is noticeably older than their Proper Human History or Dream World counterparts, wearing armor similar to that of the Goddess Rhongomyniad, albeit with Mordred’s own helmet in place of the Lion Kings. Perhaps most noticeable is the fact that this Mordred wields both Excalibur and Clarent simultaneously.

Second Stage: Mordred’s armor now gains a deep red cape that goes down to their knees. Excalibur and Clarent now seem to have dulled, with small hairline fractures noticeable along their blades. The helmet has been removed, revealing a weary smile on their face and a gold and silver crown upon their brow.

Final Stage: Excalibur and Clarent are swapped out for Carnwennan, the white-hilted knife gleaming with magical energy. Mordred’s cape has been torn to shreds as a sinister aura surrounds them. Blood stains their shining armor as they bear a maddened smile on their face.

Theme:

Fatal Battle Theme: The Death Of God's Will (Full Mix + Voice Lines)

Traits:

Class: Avenger Alternate Class: Berserker, Caster, Saber, Assassin True Name: Mordred Pendragon(Alter)/King Mordred Source: Arturian Legend Region: Wales Alignment: Chaotic Evil Attribute: Earth

Known as: The King Who Was Never Meant to Be, Usurper King of Knights, Vile King of Camelot, The Bastard Who Defied Fate

Voice Actress: Sawashiro Miyuki

Deck: QAABB

Parameters: Strength: A Endurance: B+ Agility: B+ Mana: A++ Luck: E NP: A-

Passive Skills:

Magic Resistance A++:

Mordred’s already impressively high Magic Resistance has been bolstered even further due to the magecraft they have learned from Morgan Le Fay, allowing them to deconstruct enemy spells with ease. For the magic that they can’t handle on their own, Mordred has the Holy Dagger Carnwennan to nullify any magical harm taken.

(FGO Effect:) -Increases own debuff resistance by 23%.

Avenger B:

The anger and bitterness of Camelot’s people drives Mordred further. Each angered sneer, each hateful glare, each venomous word that drops from their people’s lips only serve to push Mordred further and further in an attempt to prove them wrong. Mordred Alter will do whatever it takes to prove they have surpassed their father and have become an even better king.

They will bring Camelot into a new golden age, even if it means dragging their citizens into it, kicking and screaming.

(FGO Effect:) -Increases own NP generation rate when taking attack by 18%. -500% Chance to reduce party's debuff resistance by 8% except self. (Including sub members) [Demerit]

Oblivion Correction C+:

No matter where Mordred runs to, or where they try to escape, it is inevitable that there will be a King Arthur there to overshadow them.

(FGO Effect:)  -Increases own critical damage by 7%.

Self-Replenishment(Magic) A+:

As this incarnation of Mordred was taught by Morgan le Fay in the arts of magecraft alongside their teachings as a knight, they have a well-versed knowledge of their own mana efficiency and how to best use it in combat, able to constantly refresh their pools of energy in a fight to keep fighting for long periods of time.

Because of these teachings, coupled with the blessings of the Holy Sword, Mordred has been able to live far past the expected lifespan Morgan had given them, allowing them to further their knowledge in both the Holy Weapons and their own Magecraft.

(FGO Effect:)  -Charges own NP gauge by 4% every turn.

Active Skills:

Defiant of the Winds of Fate A-:

It is said that the fall of Camelot was destiny. That at the Battle of Camlann, the death of King Arthur would lead to the collapse of the kingdom itself, leaving nothing but pain, misery, and loss in its wake. However, Mordred managed to defy that destiny. After slaying King Arthur with her own Excalibur, and defeating the Witch-Queen Morgan le Fay when she attempted to take the throne for herself, Mordred ushered in an era of peace and prosperity for Camelot, defying the prophecies set for them long ago.

Where fate says there is destruction, Mordred will bring prosperity. Where destiny says there is death, Mordred will bring healing. Where the future says there must be sorrow, Mordred will bring joy. So sayeth the King of Camelot.

(FGO Effect:) -Increases own Buster performance for three times, three turns. -Apply Guts to self for two times, five turns. -Reduces all enemies' defense for three turns.

Revolutionary Charisma B-:

Charming, handsome, and witty. These were the traits that made Mordred able to weave their lies and tricks in the kingdom of Camelot. With but a few words, they convinced several of Arthur's finest champions that their king was unfit. With some well-placed manipulations, the Round Table came to believe that Arthur's Camelot was nothing more than a sham. Even souls like Guinevere came to ally with Mordred, believing that rule under Arthur was one of simple war and bloodshed, and only through Mordred's leadership could Camelot come to peace.

However, after the Battle of Camlann, many had lost their faith in Mordred, the horrors of the war leading many to believe the new king could only bring misery and pain. Many of Mordred's people turned against them, believing the new king to be nothing but an opportunistic usurper. As such, this skill is not a rallying cry to the side of a king, but an insidious killer to bring an entire nation to its knees. It is a skill suited to wreaking chaos and havoc, turning brother against brother, friend against friend, kingdom against kingdom, leaving Mordred standing at the end, alone.

(FGO Effect:) -Increase party's attack for three turns. -Increase party's damage for three turns. -Inflicts Confusion status for 3 turns to all enemies --(30% Chance to activate the debuff below every turn. When activated, 500% Chance to seal their skills for 1 turn.) -Inflicts Confusion status for 3 turns to all allies[Demerit]. --(30% Chance to activate the debuff below every turn. When activated, 500% Chance to seal their skills for 1 turn.)

Destroyer of the World’s End A:

The power of a child of both the King of Knights and the Witch-Queen of Albion. Rather than specializing in knightly chivalry like their father Artoria, or magecraft like their mother Morgan, Mordred has found a way to properly combine both, allowing them to even match the power of the Holy Spear Rhongomyniad in combat, which is what allowed them to defeat their father Arthur at Camlann. As surviving the war that was meant to kill them allowed Mordred to live longer than they had in Proper Human History, they've managed to hone this power to the point where they can match both Morgan and Artoria in their respective specialties.

This is the power of Mordred, the King Who Was Never Meant to Be. A king driven to madness by the cruelty of the world and the wickedness of those who tried to manipulate them for their own selfish desires. No more will Mordred be another person's puppet. No more will Mordred stand in the shadows of the ones who came before. The Usurper King will stand, facing down even the end of the world if they must.

(FGO Effect:) -Charges own NP Gauge. -Increases own critical star absorption for 3 turns. -Increases own critical damage for 3 turns. --Grants self On-Attack-Activate buff for 3 turns. --Gains critical stars when attacking with Buster Cards. -Increases damage against Savior to Humanity enemies.

Noble Phantasms:

Noble Phantasm: Excalibur & Clarent - Twin Swords of the Rightful King

Rank: A++ Maximum Targets: 1000 Range: 1-99m Classification: Anti-Fortress

In one hand, the silver blade used to knight kings and denote peace.

In the other, the golden blade forged by the gods to light the way.

While both swords were once used as symbols of heroism and goodness, now they are wielded by a cruel and petty tyrant, stolen from their rightful owners. Clarent, stolen from its rightful resting place. Excalibur, used to slay the very king who was chosen to wield it. The Pretender King of Knights, Mordred, wields both of these blades, having forced them into servitude long ago in order to exact their own mad vision of domination. These blades that once served as emblems of justice and chivalry, now turned to oppressors, slaying members of the Knights of the Round with complete impunity.

Under normal circumstances, the use of these swords by one not deemed worthy would result in these weapons dropping a rank in power. However, with Mordred’s magical skill, they managed to find a way to retain the power expected of these blades, even with a false claim to the throne. Channeling their abilities through these sacred armaments, Mordred Alter uses both swordplay and magecraft in conjunction with one another. Every strike is akin to a clap of thunder. Every slash is alight with the flash of lightning. With these weapons in hand, the King of Greed is akin to a living force of nature, carving apart any enemy in front of them with horrifying bloodlust.

But despite the raw magical energy that comes from these sacred weapons, one can sometimes see them tremble in Mordred’s grip. As if they are begging, screaming out to be released from their contract, and be returned to their rightful home.

Noble Phantasm: Carnwennan - Shadowed Blade of the Witch-Killer

Rank: A- Maximum Targets: 1 Range: 1-49m Classification: Anti-Unit

One of the three holy weapons said to have been given to King Arthur by God, alongside Caledfwlch and Rhongomiant, stolen from King Arthur’s armory After Mordred killed her. While lacking in obvious destructive power in comparison to the Holy Sword and the Holy Spear, the Holy Dagger makes up for it with its versatility. In the original Welsh tellings of King Arthur, it is said that Carnwennan’s wielder is able to cloak themselves in shadow, rendering them invisible to the world around them. The user can also summon pillars of shadow to attack enemies, as a counter to Rhongomyniad and Excalibur’s pillars of light. The blade can also extend, moving large distances and even curving around corners in order to attack an enemy at a distance.

The blade has a second property, made famous by Arthur’s use of it to slay Orddu the Witch. The White Hilted Dagger has the ability to nullify other magical abilities when wielded, able to dispel curses with a single touch, puncture magical shields as if they were paper, and grievously wound any Phantasmal Creature if it strikes true. In addition, whenever Carnwennan destroys something made of Magecraft or with innate magical ties, it absorbs this power into itself, allowing Carnwennan to grow stronger over time, eventually matching its sister weapons if it reaches a certain point.

While Mordred prefers to wield Clarent and Excalibur to prove their legitimacy as king, Carnwennan is the weapon they are most proficient in, given their talents in Magecraft and preference for underhanded combat.

Noble Phantasm: La Mort Artu - Thus the Usurper Claims Victory

Rank: A- Maximum Targets: 1 Range: 1m

Classification: Anti-Arthur

A Noble Phantasm that is emblematic of the action that defined the knight Mordred: the death of King Arthur. By combining the holy power of Arthur's armaments with the transcendent magecraft of Morgan's teachings, and reinforcing both with Mordred's own unshakeable willpower and unquenchable hatred, King Mordred gains the power of a fearsome thunderstorm capable of wiping out all of Britain in one fell swoop. This immense power is then concentrated within Mordred's blade, turning it into a weapon capable of matching and potentially surpassing the Tower at the End of the World, Rhongomyniad, at its full strength. Mordred even claims that if they were able to land a killing blow on the King of Storms, it would be enough to erase her from the Throne of Heroes entirely.

The main drawback of this technique is that it consumes incredible amounts of prana to use, meaning that Mordred is left on a very short timer when it is active, potentially risking death in the process. Furthermore, because of the single-minded obsession required to use this technique, each incarnation of Mordred Alter can only use it against an opponent that they have come to well and truly hate, to the point that their destruction is all that will satisfy them, usually in this case some form of Artoria, given their status as an Avenger.

(FGO Effect:) -Applies Target Focus to a single enemy for three turns(activates first).-Increases own damage against Round Table Knight or 'Saberface' enemies for one turn(activates first). -Applies Ignore Invincible to self for one turn(activates first). -Remove Anti-Enforcement Defense from all enemies(activates first). -Deals damage to one enemy that ignores Defense buffs. -Charges own NP gauge(effects increase with Overcharge). -Inflicts Curse for five turns to all enemies.

Voice Lines:

Summoned: Greetings. I am King Mordred, Avenger Class Servant and child of Artoria Pendragon and Morgan le Fay. I stand as the King of Camelot, and the one who will bring it to prosperity. Truly, it is an honor to make your acquaintance… Master.

Level Up 1: Not enough. Damnit, this still isn’t enough to surpass my father…

Level Up 2: My powers grow stronger. Hahahahaha! If only Mother could see me now!

1st Ascension: Ahhhhh, that’s better. It’s nice to finally get out of that helmet for a while. Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Mordred, King of Camelot. If you need me to help you save mankind, then I shall lend Clarent and Excalibur to aid you.

2nd Ascension: Nothing changed this time around, huh? That’s fine for now. In due time, I’ll be able to show you my full potential as king.

3rd Ascension: Wha…?! Why am I wielding Carnwennan now?! Damnit, I should be armed with Excalibur and Clarent! How else am I supposed to prove myself as king?! …no, no, it’s not your fault. I suppose that I am better suited to using the Holy Dagger instead of the Holy Sword. Regardless, this is a major pain in my ass… But I suppose I can make do.

4th Ascension: My father never really cared about me… My mother saw me as nothing more than a tool… The people of Camelot all hated and reviled me. And yet? Here I stand as king, in defiance of all expectations of me. Heh… Hehehehehe… Hahahahahahaha! If only they could see me now! All their heads bowed before me!

Fight Start 1: Lay down your arms and I shall show you mercy. Otherwise, I will end your life here and now.

Fight Start 2: As king, it’s only right that I take the stand at the front lines.

Fight Start 3: Hahahahaha! Finally! It was getting boring waiting for some action!

Fight Start 4 (Fatal Battle): You… You! You took everything from me! My kingdom! My love! My right to rule! If I can’t reign over Camelot… If I cannot be accepted by this country… Then I can at least watch you die by my hand!

Skill 1: Destiny has no hold on me!

Skill 2: Oppressors cannot control me!

Skill 3: Not even Mother or Father can stop me!

Command Card Select 1: I am… most unsatisfied.

Command Card Select 2: Fine, I guess I’ll step in to help.

Command Card Select 3: I’ll carve you to pieces!

Noble Phantasm Select 1: Rain down, Lightning! Roar out, Thunder!

Noble Phantasm Select 2: I will carve you apart… And leave nothing but blood and mist behind!

Noble Phantasm Select 3(Against any ‘Artoria’ enemy): I slew the King of Knights once. I’ll simply do it again! Now prepare to die, Father!

Attack 1: Drop dead!

Attack 2: Shut your damn mouth!

Attack 3: It’s useless! Just give up!

Attack 4: I’ll crush you!

Attack 5: Carve them to pieces, Carnwennan!

Extra Attack 1: Let’s see what breaks first… Your spirit! Or your body!

Extra Attack 2: Can you handle this?! No escape!

Extra Attack 3: Be it sword or sorcery… I reign as the king of all!

Noble Phantasm 1:

In my right hand, I bear the sword of kings, Clarent!

In my left hand, I bear the sword of gods, Excalibur!

As the true heir of Camelot, these two sacred weapons bend to my will!

And so too shall all kneel before me or die at my hand!

LA MORT ARTU!

Noble Phantasm 2:

My father was the King of Knights.

My mother was the Witch-Queen.

And I… have surpassed them both.

Now, I stand as the true King of Camelot.

La Mort Artu.

Noble Phantasm 3(Against any ‘Artoria’ Enemy):

No more am I going to be left behind in your shadow.

No more am I going to pick up the pieces of your legacy.

It doesn't matter if Camelot burns to the ground…

It doesn't matter if all of humanity turns against me…

When this is over and done with…

I promise you, 'Father', the world will forget you were even mourned.

The Legend of King Arthur… DIES NOW!

Damage from Noble Phantasm: BAAAAASTAAAAAAAAARD!!!

Regular Damage: Khhhh! You little-!

Defeated 1: Bullshit… THIS IS BULLSHIT!

Defeated 2: You…! This isn’t over, damnit!

Defeated 3 (Fatal Battle): Why…? Why?! What did I do to deserve this…? Do you hate me that much, Father?!

Victory 1: And that is how a true king gets it done.

Victory 2: Is that all? Barely even worth remembering…

Bond Level 1: Thank you for taking the time to be with me. I understand that you are busy as the Last Master of Humanity. I know I am a king, but still, it's humbling to know that someone like yourself is willing to spend time with someone like me. ...it's nice, having someone to talk to again.

Bond Level 2: Excalibur and Clarent... The blades that belong to the king. After the death of Arthur, I took them for myself as a sign of my right to rule over Camelot. Unfortunately, the swords of kingship don't seem to agree with me on that front. Never in my life have I seen either of these swords scratched, let alone cracked... Am I truly that unworthy of kingship...?

Bond Level 3 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): *sigh* So the truth is out, huh? Shit, this is a pain in the ass... I was hoping that I would be able to keep up this charade for a little while longer. Then again, it was so annoying having to play 'the good king' for so long. So, 'Master'. The Knight of Treachery is here, at your service. Or rather, you are at my service.

Bond Level 4 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): You… Why do you look at me with those eyes? Like I am some kind of abandoned child? Like I’m some sort of stray that needs pity?! I am a King! I am the villain who slew King Arthur! I am the monster that reigns over Camelot! And yet you still think of me ...no matter. You'll turn out like all the rest. One way or another, I will make you kneel.

Bond Level 5 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): …you really do see the good in all things, don’t you, Master? I suppose that is undoubtedly your most admirable trait. Be that as it may… Never look at me with those pitying eyes again. I have my pride, both as a knight and as a king, and if you dare insult that pride, I will not hesitate to end you. But if you will treat me with the respect I am owed? Perhaps there is a place at my side for you.

Dialogue 1: It’s nice, isn’t it? Having a bit of time to relax and have peace? Most of my life I just knew combat, so being able to sit around and do nothing is nice, isn’t it? …it’s too quiet around here, I’m bored.

Dialogue 2: I am at your service, Master. If there is an enemy before me, I will crush it at your command.

Dialogue 3: I know that contractually, you are the Master, and I am the Servant, but at the same time, I am still your king. Don’t get any bright ideas, got it?

Dialogue 4 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): So many Servants in Chaldea, so many pawns to play with… All ready and willing to be sacrificed upon your orders, ‘Master’. … Hah! That look on your face was pretty frightening. Don’t worry, I just wanted to see how you would react.

Dialogue 5 (If you have any Artoria Pendragon(Saber)): So the Once and Future King has come to Chaldea. How lovely… Hm? Oh, don’t worry, Master. I suppose I can play nice with my Father for now, if you need me to. That being said… I will crush her again when the time comes. Then, everyone will understand just who the true King of Camelot is.

Dialogue 6 (If you have Artoria Pendragon(Lancer Alter) after Clearing "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): The King of Storms… That phantom I summoned back then to run rampant as a Berserker. …did she really mean those words she said to me back then? No, it doesn’t matter. She is King Arthur, and I am Mordred. In the end, we are to be enemies.

Dialogue 7 (If you have Mysterious Heroine X or Mysterious Heroine XX): Another one of the Fathers wandering around Chaldea, I see. Is that ballcap of yours meant to be a disguise or something? …what? “I am no Artoria, I am the spacefaring defeater of Sabers and hero of the Servantverse?” GET REAL! If you’re gonna hide your identity from me like a coward, at least give me a reasonable excuse instead of that crap!

Dialogue 8 (If you have any other ‘Artoria’ Servant): …Master. I’ve noticed we have a bit of a… multiplicity issue. I seem to be seeing several versions of my Father wandering around Chaldea. One is dressed as a showgirl, another seems to be my father as a child, and yet another seems to be a man. Not to mention the multiple evil Fathers walking around. …we have how many here?! I see. Excuse me, but I have to go step out a bit and scream my head off. I’ll return shortly. *click* AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Dialogue 9 (If you have any ‘Saberface’ Servant): Hello, ‘Father’. How about we settle this once and for… …huh? Wait, you’re not- Then who are- DAAAAAAGH! DAMNIT, I’M IN THE WRONG ROOM! YOU! You didn’t see anything! *SLAM!*

Dialogue 10 (If you have any ‘Round Table’ Servants): So this is the Knights of the Round Table from Chaldea. Still as loud and obnoxious as always, no matter what universe, isn’t it? …I admit, part of me wishes I hadn’t divided the Round Table into two during my rebellion. Only a handful of us survived, and even then, none remained in Camelot. It was kind of lonely running the kingdom by myself, y’know?

Dialogue 11 (If you have any ‘Enemy of the Round Table’ Servants): Ah, I’ve heard of you! Yes, a great and powerful enemy of Camelot, one that brought even the great King Arthur to their knees! Of course, I was the one who managed to kill her for good… Hm? Oh, nothing, just talking to myself. Say… how about you and I get to talk a bit? I’ll treat you to some good booze and we can talk shop about reducing Camelot to rubble, hm?

Dialogue 12 (If you have Lancelot(Saber)): So this is the Lancelot of Proper Human History, is it? Hah… I guess, no matter the timeline, you’re still the same, huh? An idiot of a man, too chivalrous for his own good, even if it means his own misery. Hey, care for a spar? I wanna see if you fight as good as the Lancelot of my world.

Dialogue 13 (If you have Lancelot(Berserker)): Lancelot…?! …to think that someone like you would end up like this. …I’m sorry, old man. I should’ve been with you.

Dialogue 14 (If you have Mordred): I gained everything we ever wanted in life… the throne… victory over Father and Mother… even the blade Excalibur is mine! So why… Why do you continue to give me that expression?! Why do you look so much happier than I am?! HUH?! ANSWER ME!

Dialogue 15 (If you have Mordred(Rider)): …a surfboard? Really?! And are you really using Prydwen for your stupid summer games?! NO I DON’T WANT TO STEAL IT FOR MYSELF! …I have my own anyway.

Dialogue 16 (If you have Baobhan Sith): The adopted child of the Lostbelt Morgan le Fay. A spoiled brat of a girl who trails after the Witch-Queen out of some unreconciled loyalty to her. I see, so this is my Lostbelt counterpart, huh? …huh? This brat is supposed to be Tristan?!

Dialogue 17 (If you have Lostbelt Morgan): Oh. It’s you. The ‘good’ version of Morgan le Fay. As witchy as ever. Still beautiful, which of course you would be, with all your magic and sorcery. … You may have the rest of Chaldea fooled, ‘Mother’, but I don’t buy your act for one second. The very instant you dip a toe out of line, I will hunt you down and make you wish I killed you.

Dialogue 18 (If you have Merlin or Lady Avalon): Poor, poor Merlin… forever the observer. The watcher. Forced to gaze upon the mountains upon mountains of failures you’ve created from the confines of Avalon. Tell me, did you know of the truth of my birth? Did you know my fate was to slay the King of Knights? Did you know that was why my father nearly attempted a genocide? …of course you did.

Dialogue 19 (If you have Florence Nightingale): That nurse… she looks at me strangely… I feel simultaneously afraid and comforted by her presence. Ghh! She’s looking this way! Quick, hide me!

Likes: Have you ever gone sailing, Master? I’ve only done it a few times when I was young, but I always feel like the water’s surface is soothing. As if even in the harshest storms, I would be fine. Hmph. Perhaps it is the one blessing my Mother ever gave me… Or perhaps it’s just dumb luck.

Dislikes: Those other mes… those damn idiots. With their smug faces… their arrogant smiles… Everything about their existence is a pestilence that doesn’t deserve to exist!

About the Holy Grail: The Holy Grail… So many of the Round Table sought it out in some form or another. Even my Father sought to attain it for herself, only to fail. In that case, I think I’d like to take it for myself… Perhaps then I can… Hm? Oh, nothing, just talking to myself.

During an Event: Oh, an event is going on? I suppose I should escort you there to see what is going on.

Birthday: Yes, yes, happy birthday and all that. Enjoy your cake and your festivities, and all that stuff. Some of us actually have important things to do. 'What are they?' …shut up.

Profile:

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Deceitful. Cruel. Evil. Greedy. Treacherous. These words have long followed the name ‘Mordred’ for centuries. Since the betrayal of King Arthur, Mordred Pendragon has gone down in history as one of the most infamous traitors to ever live. This Servant is the living embodiment of that very same reputation, being a vile and wicked schemer with an unending lust for power.

A Mordred from an alternate timeline, raised in earnest by their mother, as opposed to their Proper Human History counterpart being abused and ashamed of their heritage of being the child of the Witch-Queen of Orkney. A master of combat, and a genius in Magecraft, this Mordred succeeded in their rebellion against King Arthur, slaying the King of Knights and taking the throne of Camelot as the last of the Round Table.

Bond Level 1:

Height/Weight: 171cm • 65kg Source: Arthurian Mythology Region: Wales Alignment: Chaotic • Evil Gender: Nonbinary

While normally Excalibur's pseudo-immortality would leave Mordred at the same age physically as the time they wielded it, because the Holy Sword is actively rejecting them, they lack the blessing of Excalibur. Instead, this version of Mordred has matured as if they had chosen the Holy Lance, though noticeably lacking the incredible defense Excalibur would normally grant.

"While it is a pain in the ass to lose the immortality of Excalibur... Who needs it when I can just smash any enemy in front of me to pieces?! Besides, look at me! I rule!"

Despite the seemingly higher intellect and maturity, this Mordred is just as childish and petty as the other Mordreds, Holy Sword or no Holy Sword.

Bond Level 2:

"Mother... What the hell is going on here?!"

"Oh, dear... It seems I taught you well, my daughter. Too well."

"Don't change the subject on me! You... Did you seriously try to kill me?! Why?!"

"Isn't it obvious? You were the only thing standing between me and the throne I was owed. That was stolen from me by Uther and given to Artoria! I was the rightful heir to Camelot, and I was denied it!"

"I know that! That was why you wanted me to kill the king, wasn't it?! So a child of Orkney could take back the kingdom?!

"Still so slow on the uptake, Mordred? A pity, I thought I raised you better than that. I didn't want you on the throne. Honestly, I was hoping you and Arthur would end up killing each other. Unfortunately, you survived..."

"So everything you told me... All the care you put into raising me?! All your teachings?! All of it was just so you could get me to kill Father?!"

"Sadly, yes... You were just meant to be a weapon, Mordred. And what a weapon you were. I'm so proud of you..."

SHING!

"GAH, YOU LITTLE BASTARD!"

"You... Mother... No. Morgan! You have committed treason against your king. Stand down now, and I'll spare your life. Otherwise I will kill you!"

"'King...?' What a joke. You aren't even half the king Uther was, much less anything like Arthur. You are just a pathetic weapon meant to sit tight and obey! Do you hear me?! You're nothing more than a filthy homun-!"

SCHLICK!

Bond Level 3 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"):

Despite the era of peace Mordred's rule brought to Camelot, it was never enough. Their citizens feared them, seeing Mordred as a bloodthirsty tyrant. Their knights despised them, seeing Mordred as a terrible machine. Nothing Mordred did would ever be enough to repent for the terrible bloodshed and misery the War at Camlann caused, with many crying out for the return of King Arthur to the throne.

The sole allies Mordred had, Sir Lancelot and Lady Guinevere, had left long ago in shame and disgrace, hating themselves for their participation in the Fall of Camelot. Mordred had gained everything they had ever wanted. The throne, the Holy Sword, the crown. And yet, nothing was ever enough to escape the shadow of Arthur.

Desperate and embittered, Mordred eventually decided that the only way to improve their own reputation was to destroy Arthur's own. Using their skill in Magecraft, they summoned an alternate version of Artoria Pendragon, the Altered King of Ghosts, to ravage Camelot, trapping her under Madness Enhancement.

The people would all see the image of the beloved king destroying Camelot, and Mordred as the savior defending Camelot. Then... Then they would love Mordred.

Bond Level 4:

Why...?

Why do they still cheer for you over me? Why do they still claim you to be the Once and Future King? Why do they still hate me?! I'm supposed to be the hero here! I'm saving them! I'm protecting them! From you! And still, they sing your praises, and drag my name through the mud?! Where's the justice in that?!

I've given everything to help Camelot thrive! I've killed so many people... My friends... My brothers... My mother and father... And for what?! For a kingdom that won't accept me?! For a throne that constantly rejects me?! For people that constantly put me in your shadow?! Even in death, you still look down on me! Even after all I've done, everyone only remembers me as the one who killed King Arthur!

Arthur...

Arthur...!

AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

...I understand now. Mother was right. You really are nothing but a thief. You stole my glory. You stole my kingdom. You stole my future from me! Everything I do is tainted with your influence. No matter what I do, I will always be compared to you, seen as inferior to you, seen as the evil that will oppose you. Fine then. If the world will only know me as the one who slew King Arthur... Then I might as well live up to this. This time... I will end the Legend of King Arthur permanently.

Bond Level 5(Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"):

Deceitful. Cruel. Evil. Greedy. Treacherous. These are the labels that humanity has given to Mordred. These are all humanity will ever know the knight Mordred to be. After realizing this, Mordred has chosen to cast off all attempts at being a just king, and has fully embraced the idea of being the wicked Knight of Treachery that opposes their father. A cruel and wicked tyrant that seeks to end the very idea of 'King Arthur', no matter the cost and no matter the hatred they get in return.

To that same end, they battled with their father, the Altered King of Storms, in a recreation of their fated duel at Camlann. Father and Son, King and Usurper, once again dueling to decide the future of Britain. The King of Storms took no joy in this battle, once again being forced to face their failures as a king and a father. The Knight of Treachery, on the other hand, threw themselves at Artoria without remorse, not caring for a moment how their body broke or how much blood was spilled. All that mattered was killing the person that stood before them once and for all.

"See Father?! I told you I was better than you! I told you that I would be the better king! Now... Say it! Say that I am your better! Say that I am your rightful heir! Say that I am worthy to be your son! SAY IT ALREADY!"

Extra (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"):

At first glance, Mordred Alter couldn’t be more different than their Proper Human History counterpart. One is blunt, rude, and callous, the other is clever, polite, and seemingly friendly. One is all too happy to settle a conflict with fist and blade, the other will at least attempt a diplomatic approach before battle inevitably comes. One was a simple weapon, built only to kill and die. The other attempted to become more than that, a ruler that would bring Camelot into an era of peace and prosperity.

At their core, however, they are the same person.

Despite being the one to kill their father, they admire them, desiring nothing more than to follow in their footsteps. One to try and help relieve their burden of being a king, the other to try and help carve a path towards peace and prosperity. Both follow a path of chivalry, despising those who trod upon the innocent and weak, even if their own demeanor makes them seem as though they are the same. They are arrogant, proud, and boastful, not believing that there is any potential for failure on the road they walk, carrying themselves with the dignity and pride expected of a true king.

They want to be respected, to be acknowledged, and to be loved.

But one does not gain such things through force or power. One cannot make it happen by their own will. It is as impossible a task as counting every single star in the sky across the endless universe.

But that’s what Mordred does best, isn’t it? Seek the impossible to make it their own.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[hey-rissyroo]

Exactly 💯!

WHY we were so robbed of emotional moments between stevebucky in the mcu like this??

[reignpage]

Equal Rights, Equal Fights

Summary: in which your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, lets himself get struck by a gender-bending curse Word Count: 2.3k Warnings: fem!reader, lesbian sex, gender bend, porn with little plot, thigh humping, cunnilingus, fingering, scissoring, dirty talk, choking, slight rimming, all over the place pronouns, not proofread

“It’s pretty crazy, isn’t it?” Satoru remarks with a shit-eating grin. “Although, I always knew I’d make a hot chick.”

Your boyfriend returned from a mission as a woman. Something about a curse with the ability to alter the appearance of its victim for an hour or two, which apparently, intrigued him enough to let down his guard, literally, and allow himself to be struck. 

Now, before you, is a tall, skinny, but curvaceous, young woman with long, white hair. She’s drowning in Satoru’s clothes, zipper dangerously low on her chest, revealing the smooth curves of her cleavage. Wearing his blindfold, she admires herself in the bathroom mirror whilst you look on from behind in what can only be described as horror. 

“How are you so calm about this, Satoru?”

She, or he, or what fucking ever, winks at you through the reflection and cups her ample breasts. Then, with a sultry tone, replies, “I’ve already accepted my fate. So, instead of being all sad and scared, why don’t we make the most of it, sweetie?”

Judging by the words alone, you’re sure it’s him — no one else in the world could manage to be as infuriating. But the voice is so womanly, much higher than his normal pitch, smoother, and it’s throwing you for a loop. 

Satoru spins around, hair whipping with her movement. You can tell she’s serious, or he, and fuck this is confusing. She is serious. You can tell her from the mischievous glinting in her eyes and the way she’s raking down your figure, stopping at your chest to size up your tits in comparison to hers. 

Even in a situation like this, he just has to compete.

“Satoru, you need to go to Shoko,” is all you can push out. 

In a flash, she’s pinning you to the wall, breasts squished against yours and her leg trapped shoved between your thighs. She cages you within her arms, fingers tracing your jaw, travelling down your neck. When you gulp, Satoru huffs in victory, thoroughly amused by your body’s reaction.

Her fingers remain just as long as his normal ones, but his nails are even longer and sharper. They scrape against your skin, pressing just hard enough for you to hold your breath as you both watch him descend down your chest until she reaches the neckline of your shirt. 

“Let’s have some instead, hmm?”

You try to push her away, but your fists only land on her bouncy breasts instead of his hard pecs. Through her uniform, you can feel her pebbled nipples poking. Satoru gasps. Unable to help yourself, you unfurl your fists and bury your fingers within her tits, the weight leaving you both breathless. 

In retaliation, you’re sure, she hikes that leg up between yours, plumper thighs pressing against your clothed pussy. You moan, “Satoru!”

She crashes her lips against yours. 

You can taste your lipgloss; he must have gone through your makeup bag before waking you up. It’s sweet and sticky and neither of you can get enough as you stick your tongue in, meeting his in a sloppy kiss. Her tits press in harder as she arches closer, leg grinding against your moistening pussy. 

“Knew you’d cave,” he taunts.

Satoru, in any and all forms, will always be a little shit. He’ll always push the limits, get on your nerves, and he’ll do it all with an innocent smile. That realisation might be the only thing softening the blow when you realise, you’re actually just as curious and enthusiastic about this little experience. 

Because no matter how infuriating he is, he will always be your Satoru. And you can’t deny him, can’t resist his charm, no matter how hard you try. Even when you desperately don’t want him to win. 

And how can you resist him now?

When he still looks just as otherworldly, just as majestic, and jaw-dropping as a woman. And he looks even better than you. 

But he kisses the same. With so much love, so much reverence, and obsession, you almost forget what’s happened. Almost. Since there’s no way you can ignore that sickly sweet scent of a woman. Gone is all the roughness and instead it’s replaced by that warmth, that nurturing softness you melt into. 

She squeals when you shove your leg between hers too. Whilst you grind on hers, Satoru humps you, pussy juices seeping through your clothes, leaving a steamy trail on your bare skin and on her thin pants. 

“Do I feel better, baby?” He asks. “Is it better when I’m a girl? Do you like me like this, hmm? All -ngh- soft and womanly?”

“Shut up, Satoru.”

You tear off her jacket, throwing it somewhere behind her before you pull down her vest, stretching the material until it tucks itself under her tits. They’re so heavy, so intoxicatingly smooth you squeeze them under your palms. You suck at a throbbing nipple, eyes rolling back at Satoru’s whimper. 

“Oh, fuck, baby! You sucking my tit? You like sucking on mommy’s tits, baby?”

Her fingers tug at your hair, simultaneously trying to pull you off and keep you there, like she wishes she could bury you between her breasts. You have no idea where that mommy thing comes from and you make a mental note to make fun of him for it later, but right now, the term is actually making you wetter. 

Tongue swirling around her nipple, you use the same technique as you would with the tip of his cock, sucking in pulses. You flick it and rolls the bud between your teeth hard enough to make her hips stutter. 

You’re still churning your hips against her thigh, panties soaked through and making a mess of her pants. She, in turn, is grinding on yours. The both of you are chasing your high, feeling yourselves get closer to an orgasm, and you can’t muster the energy to ponder about how weird this entire thing is. You can only think about how delicious she smells and how addictive her softness feels. 

“Yes! Yes, Satoru,” you groan around her nipple, bruising her hips with your needy hands.

She’s bucking wildly, holding you tight as she spasms. Though your orgasm was just as good, it’s clear Satoru is being driven an extra mile of wild — he must be going insane from the unique feel of a woman’s orgasm. She grinds her clit harder. 

“Oh my god!” She moans. “Fuck, baby! It’s so good, it’s so fucking good.”

Kissing up her neck, you hold her as she slumps down. Unable to restrain yourself, you tease right in her ear, “Knew you wouldn’t be able to handle a woman’s body.”

That seems to rejuvenate him because he’s using his height to tower over you once more, tits jiggling right in front of your face.

“Oh, but I handle yours every night well enough, don’t I?”

You shrug. “Eh, you’re alright.”

Satoru spins you around, pushing you to sit on top of the toilet lid. She sinks onto her knees, pulling your panties off right before diving forward. Her tongue glides through your sloppy pussy, licking a stripe from your quivering hole to your clit, circling there once and twice before lowering again. 

“Satoru! Don’t stop,” you beg, hands holding your thighs up so you can get a perfect view of her long lashes fluttering as her own eyes roll back. She’s taking off her own clothes with expert hands, multitasking whilst she ravages your cunt, pushing that devilishly long tongue inside your wet hole. 

You’re writhing and clawing at the walls, knocking the toilet roll off its handle. 

When she inches her fingers inside, your hips jolt. They’re slightly thinner than his normal fingers but they’re still stretching you out as she feels the grooves inside your pulsing walls. 

Laughing, Satoru remarks, “I’m just as tight as you, baby. But you’re warmer inside.”

You look down and the sight makes you squeeze out even more cream onto his fingers. Your boyfriend, in his female form, is shoving his fingers inside his own sloppy pussy in time with the fingers he’s got inside of you. His slender arm is pushing her tits closer, make the fat bulge and bounce with every thrust. 

Bunching up her hair, you pull him in closer, urging his dirty mouth to suck your clit. Drool is dripping down your chin as he continues to pummel his fingers inside your cunt, curling them in to tease at that spongy spot inside. 

“Oh! Ngh!” Satoru whimpers. “Is that what you feel when I do that?”

The squelches filling the room are coming from both of you. It’s a filthy symphony and you’re heaving, hips rising to chase his mouth. Sweat is drenching your body and the feel of him licking up that bead of condensation falling down your thigh just as his thumb circles your clit is what pushes you over the edge. 

You cum with a scream, soaking her face with your release which she eagerly laps up, dipping low to your ass to chase any errant trails of wetness, tracing the puckered hole. Desperately inhaling air, your head falls back onto the water tank, the ceramic cooling you enough to bring back your consciousness. 

“That’s it. Go on, baby. Cum for me,” she urges. “Looks so -ngh- pretty. Prettier than me. Always so beautiful.”

Satoru is still frantically shoving her fingers inside like she can’t get enough of the euphoria stimulating her g-spot is bringing. You reach your hands out, one to clutch at her throat, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp, and the other pinches and pulls at her nipple, slipping in the sweat coating his skin.

“Shit! I’m cumming. Oh no, fuck! It’s too much.”

She cums too, juices splattering all over the tiles. Her back arches, mouth agape and eyes rolled back. Strands of hair are sticking to her clammy skin, and her sticky spare hand is gripping your wrist, smearing your own wetness all over your skin. 

It’s as gorgeous a sight as his normal cumming face. 

“I c-can’t…fuck!” She heaves, bottom lip quivering right before her head falls forward, face planting right into your pussy. Satoru takes a deep inhale before he kisses your clit like he would with your lips or your cheeks. “Love this pussy, love you so so much.”

He’s muttering sweet nothings right in your hole the same way he does after a hard cum. Even as the most badass looking woman, he’s still your pathetic little boyfriend, always so in love and unafraid to show it. 

“Accept defeat, Satoru,” you whisper as you brush his hair back. “Two orgasms from your pussy are too much for a man to handle.”

Your boyfriend, bless his competitive little heart, lifts his head and forces his blurry vision to clear up enough for him to fix you with a firm glare. He grips your ankles, stands up, and scoots you back. There isn’t enough space on the toilet, but he forces you both to balance anyways. 

Tossing a leg over yours, he declares, “I can handle another one. You can too. So, hold tight baby, we’re going until there’s a dick between my legs and inside yours.”

Then, he’s mashing his wet cunt against your pulsing pussy. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper again. 

Satoru has craziness written all over his face, a furious need sparkling in his pretty blue eyes as he pummels his pussy again and again against yours. His hard clit meets yours and jolts of electricity climb up your spine, back arching with a howl. 

Sweat and pussy juice is flying everywhere with the force of her thrusts. Your body is on fire, nerves alight as you lie helplessly beneath her, head thrown back. You can only take what she’s giving you, unable to fight off that fury in her hips as she grinds your clits together, mixing your sticky juices until it’s pooling beneath your asses.

His perfect blue eyes can’t decide where to look at. Whether to watch the way your tits bounce like his, or at your pleasured face, tongue out and drool coating your lips and chin whilst your eyes rolls back, or at your sloppy pussy, shiny with your combined mess. 

Your fingers dig into her tits, groping the flesh there before you sit up and take a nipple into your mouth. Even as a man, his nipples were his weakness, and when you swipe the tip of your tongue against the slit, her thrusts suddenly become shorter and faster until they lose all rhythm. 

Together, you howl. Your moans are broken and ragged, muscles jelly as you meet her sloppy thrusts with equally crazed ones. 

“Yes! Yes!” Satoru screams. “So good, baby. Fuck! Your pussy’s the best. Ha! I love you so much. My best girl, my favourite girl.”

“Oh god, Satoru!”

Hips still stuttering and slapping against each other, you ride out your orgasms, breaths raspy as you drench the seat with your mixing fluids, steam fogging the window. Satoru’s lips descend on yours, sucking up your dying moans and holding you close. 

Eventually, you part, limbs tangled up and eyes threatening to close. 

You fall forward into his neck, but you don’t get any rest because he’s slapping your face awake with gentle pats. You look up at him through bleary eyes. 

Gone is long hair and so is his blindfold, now you realise. His features have hardened again, jaw much sharper and cheeks less plump, but still just as flushed. And when your hand seeks out his chest, you’re a little disappointed to find only solid muscle. But you aren’t as disappointed to feel something long, thick and incredibly hard throbbing against your stomach. 

“Three orgasms from female me. Three orgasms from original me. After, you tell me which is better, okay?”

Always so competitive, always so annoying. 

[ahqkas]

“MILLION DOLLAR MAN — bruce wayne.

PAIRING! bruce wayne 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! bruce met you through a dating app (his sons’ doing, really) and the temptation to invite you over for christmas is getting harder to resist WORD COUNT! 3.6k WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, bruce is literally down bad for reader in this one, unedited + lmk if found! NOTES! for nat & based on this req. , header bellow belongs to @/v6que © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BRUCE WAYNE AVOIDED RELATIONSHIPS LIKE A SOLDIER DODGING BULLETS, each attempt adding yet another layer to the armor he wore daily. He didn’t need them, the women, or so he told himself. They entered his life easily — at his own charity galas, where one pretty bird thought she could get a kiss from him by the end of the night. Female admirers who ate up his charming smiles and sharp eyes seemed to flock around him at all times. And those countless girls who were lured in by the Wayne name, the status, the wealth.

And Bruce gave them the attention they craved from him.

The women served their purpose as brief districtions, companions who helped him maintain his public image, but none of them really mattered to him.

They kept the colder side of his bed warm, but never his heart.

It wasn’t that Bruce didn’t want love — some part of him did, but that part was buried under the weight of Batman. Allowing himself to lose the walls around him and find an attachment in a woman wasn't something his alter ego was okay with, not with the way he’d been living. And another part convinced him that his duties as Gotham’s protector, with all his scars and wounds, didn’t make him a possible object for such things. Love and vigilantism didn’t mingle together well.

Maybe that’s why his own sons and personal butler teamed up on him. Batman was a hero to many, but with how much it damaged Bruce’s internal beliefs, it would ruin him soon enough.

It started as something innocent (but it seemed the wolf was clothed in sheep’s wool): Dick, his oldest, had teased him about his non-existent love life during a training session in the Batcave.

The large space was full with flickering lights coming from the monitors and grunts from the fighting men. Sweat filled the air, masculine and strong, but that only indicated to the hard work they were doing. Training wasn’t easy, they liked to train with the maximum intensity ( it was kinda needed, too ) and it showed. From their damp hair and glistening skin to the rippling muscles underneath their clothes.

“You know, Bruce,” his son started when he blocked yet another strike coming from the man in question. A puff of air left his mouth upon the attack. Not fair. “for someone who spends his nights saving people, you sure are terrible at saving yourself from eternal loneliness.”

Bruce delivered another jab, this one directed straight at Dick’s weak point. “Not now, Dick.”

But his son was nothing if not persistent and he always got what he wanted, whether it was with or without serious consequences. “I’m serious. When was the last time you went on a date? And don’t try to tell me you had one on your arm during the last charity event. That doesn’t count.”

Both of them fully knew Bruce’s arm candies were way more interested in his name and money than in his heart and soul. The truth made his jaw muscles tighten at the realization.

“My personal life is irrelevant to my work.”

Dick took the opportunity and circled the older man like a predator catching the prey’s scent of blood. A sweet weakness, that one. He’d be stupid if he didn’t take the chance. “Is it though? I mean, sure, you’re great at taking down supervillains and brooding on top of high rooftops, but even Batman needs a little action sometimes. The different kind of action, of course. Or are you planning to spend the rest of your life married to the job?”

Bruce swiped his right leg toward Dick’s shins, trying to take him down like he was the said supervillain but the acrobat jumped right on time, avoiding Bruce’s attempt with a grin on his face.

He landed on his feet and crossed his arms at his chest, leaning the weight of his body against one leg. The playfulness disappeared from both his voice and expression and instead, seriousness graced him whole. “Seriously, Bruce, even Alfred’s worried. He brought it up the other day while we were decorating the tree. Something about how the manor feels colder than usual this year.”

“The heating system is fine.”

With Jason gone, it was the truth. His second son had this strange relationship with all the members of the family. Off and on. Off and on. No one truly knew where they stood in Jason’s eyes but he made the effort and showed up on Christmas Eve the other year upon receiving Alfred’s invitation.

Bruce doubted he would show up two years in a row.

“That’s not what he meant, and you know it,” Dick pressed, and effectively added more salt into Bruce’s wounds. It stung and it fucking hurt. As much as Batman was ruthless, it didn’t mean the man under the mask was resistant against the pain his life brought. “You’re not getting any younger, B. It wouldn’t kill you to let someone in. And I don’t mean us. Try to meet someone who isn’t friendly with a criminal record.”

The older man could only stare helplessly at the other. Those words his son, partner, spoke were loud, crawling their way into his mind and much to his dismay, his heart as well.

Before he could voice his dismissal, a younger voice called out. It was familiar in a way family tended to be.

“You are wasting your breath, Grayson. Father has neither the time nor the inclination to entertain your nonsense,” his youngest son declared into the space of Batcave, his voice ringing out and echoing every single word. The blood son, Damian Wayne.

The father didn’t even flinch, just let out a deep sigh through his nose. It was as usual between those two, always bickering from Damian’s side and teasing remarks from Dick’s. You could mistake the blood running through their system as one, if not for the physical differences. They were brothers in all but red.

“Damian,” Dick started in that lecturing tone he’d always seemed to use with the younger boy, “when was the last time you saw Bruce here even try to have a social life?”

Damian rolled his eyes, the green disappearing behind his eyelids before they reappeared, rougher than they were. “The so called ‘social life’ you’re referring to consists of women who barely last through dinner. Why would he waste his energy on distractions when Gotham requires his full attention?”

“Because even Batman needs a break. You know, normal human things? Like dating, smiling, not dying alone in this cave surrounded by bats?”

“If Father is content with his choices, who are you to meddle? Unlike you, he does not require constant companionship to validate his existence.”

“Ouch,” Dick put his palm against his heart in a mocking manner, feigning hurt as his lips formed a pout. “You’ve got a real gift for the Christmas spirit, don’t you?”

The younger son narrowed his eyes at his supposed brother. The constant bickering was almost normal in their lives so far, and nothing seemed to be changing any time soon. He had to learn how to live with the excuse of a brother, although he started to form a light liking towards him. He wasn’t so bad. “I only speak the truth,” his green irises flicked to Bruce. “Though it is peculiar he tolerates your interference. Perhaps even Father has realized how pathetic his current romantic life—or lack thereof—appears.”

The object of the conversation let out another sigh, this one loud enough for the boys to hear. Their gazes snapped toward Bruce with accusingly great speed.

“If you two are done debating my personal life, there’s actual work to be done.”

He missed the glance his oldest threw at the youngest. He missed the look filled with amusement and a plan that was already brewing. He missed the nod they gave each other, although Dick’s was more pronounced and determined.

The next few hours were spent creating Bruce’s dating app profile.

The final result was the definition of real sugar daddy vibes. Every detail had been debated (mostly argued over though) and thought through, so to say the boys were satisfied with it was an understatement. The oldest prided in the work, saying how it would get so many women to reply which would eventually lead to the right one. The middle one Dick and Damian (only Dick) dragged into the activity beamed up once the profile was set while the youngest scoffed and scowled during the entire process.

During the next evening, the boys showed the main man his new account.

Bruce was left speechless upon seeing the bright screen flash before his eyes. Not a single word was muttered as he watched his boys showing him the app and explaining how exactly it worked (he’d never used a dating app before all this so bear with him). The main photo on the profile was a candid one of him, the one Cass had taken on a sunny day in the Wayne Manor gardern. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, the long sleeves rolled up past his elbows as the muscles of his forearms bulged up. The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the sunlight casting shadows across his sharp features and Bruce had to admit they chose a good photo.

It wasn’t intimidating, but it wasn’t exactly friendly as well. The good old middle.

The boys knew he was convinced to give it a try when he waved them off with a deep sigh slipping past his lips.

The game was on.

It was past the midnight when he lied in his bed, propped against one too many pillows and wondered why he was still scrolling through the damned dating app. It was late—far past the time he should have been out on patrol, but Red Hood and Red Robin got it covered for him.

Bruce wasn’t looking for anything specific, really. If he were honest, this whole situation felt out of place for him. Swiping through the profiles was more like an exercise for his thumb.

First was Madison K. Her profile opened with flashy colors that immediately put Bruce into a doubtful situation. Were all these women going to be like this? Madison was beautiful and her looks screamed professionalism: her makeup was done flawlessly, adorning her bright eyes and full lips. She looked like she belonged on a cover for a fashion magazine, not a dating app. Her bio made his thumb swipe left.

‘Manifesting my best life. CEO of my own happiness. Looking for someone who’s successful, ambitious, and knows how to treat me like a queen.’

The next account’s bio made him grimace and swipe left once again.

‘Looking for someone who can keep me living the dream. If you’re successful, generous, and ready to spoil me, let’s talk.”

At this point, Bruce was ready to delete the dating app his boys set up and enjoy the rest of his night. Most of the profiles he swiped through were simply bland to him. Nothing felt genuine. Right. It was safe to say he was losing the hope Dick had set in him earlier in the evening. Until he stumbled upon your profile.

The account stood out among the others—simple, elegant, but with a certain amount of warmth that seemed genuine. Bruce’s heart skipped a beat once he scrolled further and came across your photo. The picture showed you in a cozy cafe, the one Steph adored so much for their cinnamon roll buns. A soft smile danced on your pretty face, highlighting the curve of your cheeks as you looked off to the side. You captured Bruce in a way the others didn’t.

You looked like a fawn surrounded by hungry wolves. You were admirable while they were craving wealth and status. Two different sides of a coin, but Bruce had already known his pick.

Your bio was sincere, a sight the man liked to see.

‘I enjoy the little moments — finding beauty in the simple things. I believe in kindness, and I’m looking for someone who values honesty and a deep conversation.’

His mind flicked briefly toward the countless hours he spends in the cave, surrounded by work and worries. You seemed like the one who could understand the balance between the quiet and the loud, someone who could exist in both of his worlds without losing that spark you held in your gaze.

Before he could overthink it, Bruce clicked on the “message” button.

Once the screen of your non-existent chat appeared, his mind went blank and all he was capable of was to stare mindlessly at the phone. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but no words came to him. What did one say to someone like you? He wasn’t used to thinking ahead when it came to women. This was a new field. And he couldn’t screw up.

Finally, his fingers moved before his mind could think of whatever embarrassing thing it was capable of.

> Hey, I noticed your profile and wanted to reach out. There’s something about your words that struck a chord with me. I’d like to know more about you.

And that’s how the two of you started your relationship, or whatever you could call it. Neither of you voiced it as official, but that was okay. He hadn’t expected to feel this way, not so soon. And yet it came at him, crashing like a large wave of emotions every time you were around. You changed everything for him.

Your conversations became the highlight of his days.

His ears perked up every single time without a fail when he heard the soft ‘ping!’ of the notification, already convinced it was from you (and it 98 percent was). Whether it was early in the morning before he started working in the chaotic Wayne Enterprises or late at night when the Batcave was quiet and felt at peace. You were always there with him.

You were thoughtful, generous, and refreshingly kind. You asked him questions that no one else dared to: what he wanted from life, what made him happy, what kept him awake at night. You didn’t flinch at his silence. You didn’t push him to give answers he wasn’t ready to share. You understood him in a way only a few people did.

Piece by piece, he let you into his world — not that part filled with constant danger and threats, but that part that longed for something real.

By the time Christmas approached, Bruce was sure of one thing: he wanted you in his life.

The holiday was just around the corner, filling the air with joy and gratitude as it always did. The snow was blanketing the streets with white powder, and although many people were complaining about the cold, it had its charm.

Christmas had always been about family for Bruce, about gathering around the tree and full table with the people who mattered most. It was lonely at first, after the death of his parents, but over the years, Alfred had made it work. The table was always full of tasty food the kids adored and presents Bruce knew would make them more than happy were neatly waiting for them every morning after Christmas Eve.

This year though, Bruce wanted it to be a little different. He wanted you to be part of it.

You might actually fit into the chaos of the Wayne family — the teasing and playful banters between you, Dick, and Tim would be absolute gold to hear. You probably even could handle Damian’s wit which was something his father would like to see. He could picture you smiling, holding back your own remarks. The idea of you sitting beside him at the long dining table, sharing their traditions, made his chest feel warm in a way he wasn’t used to.

That night, he sent you a message.

> Are you free on Christmas Eve?

Your response came in quickly, as it always did. Bruce’s heart thumped against the bones of his ribs.

> I am. Why?

He hesitated for a bit, overthinking his decision.

> I’d like you to join me for dinner. It’s a family thing but I’d really like for you to be there.

> Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.

> You wouldn’t be intruding.

Bruce could picture the light frown between your brows and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. You often did it unconsciously, never knowing how pretty you looked this way. But even as he pictured your face, a part of him was growing more nervous about the situation. Would you agree to an event this serious? Spend Christmas with him. And his family. Or were you coming up with excuses right now? He wouldn’t blame you.

> Then I’d love to come.

His heart skipped a beat and that night, Bruce went to bed feeling a little lighter than he usually did.

Snow blanketed the long driveway leading up to Wayne Manor and for once, Bruce wasn’t thinking about the pressure of Batman or the chaos the boys would definitely stir up tonight. His attention was entirely focused on the one making your way towards him. He stood just outside the grand entrance, dressed in a dark, perfectly tailored suit that fit him like a glove. The soft crunch of tires on the white powder alerted him to your arrival, and as your car pulled up, Bruce started to feel the nervousness. He adjusted his tie with a single hand.

When you stepped out, his breath caught.

You were breathtakingly beautiful. Dressed in an inky black that hugged your figure in all the right places, the fabric shimmered under the outdoor lights of the mansion. The smile you gave him when your eyes met melted all the nerves that had been harboring in his system. He was finally calm and composed, for what seemed like the first time in the evening.

“You’re early,” Bruce pointed out softly when you walked up the stairs to meet him in front of the door, and his eyes sparkled with little stars at the sight of you. How did he get so lucky? “You look stunning, by the way.”

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting. And thank you. You clean up well, too, Bruce.”

Your gaze held a playful edge in it as you accepted his hand, locking your palm around his bulging biceps and squeezing warmly. The touch added the missing piece of the puzzle Bruce was trying to solve while his cheeks warmed a rosy pink under your influence without any hesitation. The gesture felt natural, like it always belonged there.

The two of you approached the doors of the manor in a shared silence, although it didn’t feel a bit awkward. You took a moment to take in the place. It was like something out of your childhood dreams — tall, arched windows glowing with the soft light of a dozen garlands lining the entryway. The faint hum of holiday music and the occasional sound of laughter echoed through the manor.

It was Bruce’s home.

“Do you always go this big for Christmas?” you voiced a question that's been sitting on your mind since the moment you saw the large Christmas tree from the entryway to Bruce’s living room. Decorated with lots of ornaments, it looked lovely, accompanied by a heap of presents.

“Alfred insists,” admitting with a soft chuckle, Bruce rubbed the nape of his neck as he led you deeper into his home. “And the boys like the holidays. I want them to have the best.”

The scent of pine and cinnamon enveloped your senses the further you moved. The sounds grew louder, too. You awe made him feel lighter somehow. The dining room at Wayne Manor was nothing short of spectacular this night, with the long mahogany table adorned with a dozen of flickering candles and plates of food that looked like it belonged in a holiday spread for a cookbook.

You were sitting beside Bruce (he kind of insisted anyway), your hand occasionally brushing against his. He helped you settle into the chair which earned a teasing glance from Dick. Speaking of his oldest son, he was sitting across from you with an easy grin that told you some questions would come your way sooner or later. Tim was at Dick’s right, while Damian occupied the chair from the other side of his father.

The evening was more than successful in your opinion. Steph asked you about your favorite literature, while Tim quizzed you on trivia about Gotham (which you surprisingly got all right). Damian, after much persistence from Dick, shared a story about his latest art project, though he kept glancing at you as if trying to gauge your reaction.

Through it all, Bruce remained by your side.

When the night finally came to an end, and everyone drifted to their own space of the manor, Bruce walked you to the entrance with a gentle hand against the small of your back.

“Thank you,” his gaze met yours as he handed you your coat, effortlessly helping you slip your arms into the sleeves. “For coming tonight. For putting up with them.”

You gifted him with the most precious kind of a present; your smile, smaller hands reaching up to adjust the collar of his dark suit. “Of course. They’re wonderful, Bruce. I enjoyed myself tonight.”

For a man who othen found himself at loss for words when it came to talking in emotions, Bruce found himself smiling softly with his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Because for the first time, Christmas didn’t feel like an obligation. It felt like a new beginning.

[d3ly-p4v]

Bad day for queers everywhere

[majikkulu]

✮ ˖° ⸜ masterlist ꕤ ･

╭₊˚๑ i'm  not  a  professional  astrologer,  so  they  may  not  resonate  with  everyone. take  them  with  a  grain  of  salt.  consider  the  planets, degrees, etc! these  are  just  my  personal  observations  and  opinions!

☁️₊˚੭

⋆⁺₊ planets  in  the  first  house  or  conjuncting  your  ascendant  persona  chart  can  totally  transform  and  complicate  the  vibe  you  give  off.  it’s  kinda  like  in  the  natal  chart,  but  way  more  intricate.  these  planets  or  conjunctions  can  completely  overpower  or  reshape  how  your  rising  energy  plays  out.  the  rising  sign  is  like  the  canvas  of  a  painting,  and  the  planets  placed  within  or  near  it  are  the  brushstrokes  and  colors  that  bring  the  entire  image  to  life,  altering  its  mood  and  style.

⋆⁺₊ for  example:  i have capricorn  rising,  but  with  chiron  conjuncting my  ascendant.  that  makes  me  come  across  as  wounded,  insecure  about  my  self-image,  but  also  wise  and  compassionate  because  of  the  struggles  i’ve  been  through.  i  get  how  it  feels,  so  i  can  help  others  through  it.  self-confidence  can  be  a  real  issue  with  this  placement.  then  add  neptune  and  uranus  in  the  first  house,  and  suddenly,  i  might  look  like  a  hard-to-read,  dreamy  mystery.  neptune  tends  to  soften  the  energy  of  the  risign  sign,  so  it  makes  my  serious  capricorn  vibe  a  little  more…  fluid.  i  don’t  always  see  myself  the  way  others  do,  and  that  adds  to  the  confusion.  uranus,  though,  makes  my  capricorn  rising  unpredictable,  way  less  steady  than  your  average  cap.  it  leaves  me  torn  between  capricorn’s  need  for  stability  and  the  freedom-loving  pull  of  uranus.

⋆⁺₊ conjunctions hit  harder.  they’re  more  obvious,  more  in  your  face,  while  planets  in  the  first  house  will  still  shift  things,  but  in  a  softer  way.

⋆⁺₊ if  you  have  no  planets  or  conjunctions  in  the  first  house,  whatever  sign  sits  there  takes  the  lead.  but  don’t  forget, other aspects  to  the  ascendant  can  shake  things  up  too!

✮ SUN IN THE 1ST you have a  cosmic  spotlight on you.  if  you’ve  got  this  placement,  consider  yourself  truly  blessed.  the  sun  is  the  dominant  force,  and  with  it  in  the  1st,  you  can't  help  but  shine.  this  placement  brings  a  natural  radiance  that  makes  you  stand  out  wherever  you  go,  even  if  you're  not  trying  to.  people  are  drawn  to  your  energy  and  notice  you  right  away.  no  matter  what  your  ascendant  is,  the  sun  amplifies  its  traits,  making  them  more  obvious  and  pronounced.  without  this  placement,  you’d  be  more  of  a  quiet  observer,  but  with  it,  you  become  the  full-on  main  character.  the  sun  makes  you  hyper-aware  of  how  you  present  yourself  and  how  others  see  you.  you're  aware  of  your  own  personality,  and  even  if  you  don't  try,  you  naturally  give  off  leadership  vibes.  with  the  sun  boosting  your  rising  sign,  your  traits  become  even  more  dominant.  you’re  less  likely  to  hide  who  you  are.  your  authentic  self  just  radiates  out,  making  you  impossible  to  ignore.

✮ MOON  IN  THE  1ST     you’re  likely  someone  who  wears  their  heart  on  their  sleeve.  your  emotions  are  easily  read  by  others,  and  you  come  across  as  emotionally  open  and  approachable.  people  can  sense  your  genuine,  heartfelt  energy  right  away.  this  placement  makes  you  naturally  vulnerable,  which  can  make  others  feel  seen  and  understood  by  you.  because  the  moon  is  a  deeply  sensitive  planet,  you're  attuned  to  the  moods  and  energy  of  those  around  you,  often  picking  up  on  subtle  shifts  in  atmosphere.  your  mood  can  influence  your  behavior,  making  you  appear  adaptable  and  fluid.  one  moment  you  might  seem  more  cheerful,  the  next  more  introspective—it  all  depends  on  the  emotional  climate  around  you.  this  also  extends  to  your  appearance,  which  might  change  based  on  how  you're  feeling.  you  likely  feel  most  comfortable  when  you're  nurturing  or  comforting  others,  and  this  side  of  you  may  be  the  most  visible.  intuitively,  you  might  protect  your  emotional  space  or  express  your  feelings  in  a  way  that  makes  you  seem  instinctive  and  open.  while  the  sun  helps  express  your  ascendant  traits  confidently  and  boldly,  the  moon  invites  you  to  express  your  inner  world  more  openly.  your  emotional  responses  to  situations  are  often  immediate,  and  you  might  rely  heavily  on  gut  feelings  and  intuition  to  guide  your  actions.  for  some,  the  moon  can  bring  out  a  more  private  side,  making  you  appear  sensitive  or  withdrawn,  and  people  may  see  you  as  someone  who  keeps  their  deeper  emotions  hidden.

✮ MERCURY  IN  THE  1ST         you’re  immediately  seen  as  sharp,  witty,  and  quick  with  your  words.  expressing  yourself  comes  effortlessly,  and  you  know  exactly  how  to  make  your  point  land.  people  are  drawn  to  engage  with  you  because  you’re  mentally  active  and  always  ready  to  process  information  and  come  up  with  solutions  on  the  fly.  this  placement  gives  you  a  youthful,  curious  vibe—you’re  the  kind  of  person  who  loves  to  learn  and  dive  into  debates  or  intellectual  discussions.  there’s  a  playful,  talkative  quality  to  you  that  makes  you  approachable  and  easy  to  talk  to.  mercury  in  the  1st  also  makes  you  more  flexible,  adjusting  your  communication  style  to  fit  the  situation.  you  probably  don’t  like  being  bored  and  are  constantly  seeking  mental  stimulation.  your  movements,  gestures,  and  even  the  way  you  stand  or  walk  often  reflect  your  thoughts  and  mental  energy—there’s  a  quickness  to  you.  you  might  have  a  rapid  speech  pattern,  talking  quickly  or  excitedly  as  your  thoughts  race  ahead.  this  placement  makes  you  come  across  as  highly  expressive,  and  mercury  enhances  whatever  sign  you  have,  making  it  more  adaptable  and  dynamic.  people  will  first  notice  you  through  the  way  you  talk,  as  mercury  tends  to  intellectualize  everything  it  touches,  giving  your  outward  persona  a  more  articulate,  thought-driven  quality.

✮ VENUS  IN  THE  1ST     your  entire  persona  is  wrapped  in  the  essence  of  venusian  charm.  even  if  the  sign  on  your  ascendant  is  a  bit  more  intense  or  harsh,  venus  smooths  it  out,  making  you  more  approachable  and  naturally  magnetic.  this  placement  infuses  you  with  an  effortless  attractiveness,  making  it  easier  for  people  to  like  you.  whether  you  want  to  or  not,  you  carry  a  flirtatious,  almost  romantic  energy  that  draws  others  in.  venus  makes  everything  you  do—how  you  speak,  how  you  dress,  how  you  carry  yourself—feel  beautiful  and  captivating.  no  matter  what  your  ascendant  sign  is  in  your  chart,  you’ll  always  come  across  as  charming  and  likable.  this  placement  enhances  your  natural  traits,  making  you  more  aesthetically  pleasing  and  easy  to  be  around.  you  likely  have  a  sense  of  style  and  elegance  that  shines  through  effortlessly,  and  you  probably  express  your  artistic  side  without  even  trying.  venus  gives  you  a  warm,  inviting  aura  that  people  find  hard  to  resist.

✮ MARS  IN  THE  1ST                your  rising  sign  gets  a  major  energy  boost.  if  your  rising  sign  is  usually  more  laid-back  or  passive,  mars  will  push  it  into  a  more  dynamic,  fast-paced  mode.  you’ll  come  across  as  bold,  determined,  and  not  afraid  to  go  after  what  you  want.  this  placement  gives  you  confidence  that  can  sometimes  border  on  aggression  or  impatience.  unlike  venus,  which  is  more  subtle  and  charming,  mars  in  the  1st  is in-your-face.  direct,  forceful,  and  unapologetically  assertive.  even  if  your  rising  sign  tends  to  be  reserved  or  private,  mars  makes  you  more  blunt  and  outspoken.  you’re  the  type  to  take  initiative,  preferring  to  make  things  happen  rather  than  waiting  for  them  to  come  to  you.  with  mars  in  the  1st,  you’re  not  one  to  back  down  easily.  you  hate  delays  and  indecision.  your  body  language,  speech,  and  movements  tend  to  be  sharp,  quick,  and  full  of  energy.  you  might  attract  competition  or  conflict,  but  that  doesn’t  faze  you.  your  presence  is  commanding,  and  you  radiate  an  intense,  magnetic  energy.  mars  makes  you  more  independent  and  tough,  as  it  thrives  on  strength  and  hates  being  seen  as  weak.  others  are  likely  to  see  you  as  dominant,  fiery,  and  undeniably  attractive.  you  speak  your  mind,  say  exactly  what  you  mean,  and  do  what  you  want.  whatever  your  rising  sign  is,  mars  amps  it  up  with  boldness  and  power,  making  your  presence  undeniably  strong  and  full  of  life.

✮ JUPITER  IN  THE  1ST            it   supercharges  your  rising  sign,  expanding  it  and  filling  you  with  an  infectious,  radiant  energy.  it  brings  a  positive,  uplifting  vibe  that  makes  your  personality  and  appearance  shine.  no  matter  what  your  rising  sign  is,  jupiter  infuses  it  with  an  adventurous,  optimistic  spirit.  this  placement  is  often  considered  lucky,  as  jupiter  amplifies  the  traits  of  your  ascendant,  making  them  even  more  prominent  and,  in  turn,  attracting  more  opportunities  your  way.  people  are  drawn  to  your  warmth,  generosity,  and  natural  confidence,  seeing  you  in  a  positive  light  and  trusting  you.  even  when  faced  with  challenges,  you  seem  to  always  land  on  your  feet.  with  jupiter  in  the  1st,  you  come  across  as  someone  who  thinks  big,  often  exuding  an  aura  of  wisdom  or  having  a  deep,  almost  philosophical  outlook.  if  your  rising  sign  tends  to  be  more  reserved,  jupiter  makes  you  more  open-hearted  and  expansive.  you  rarely  think  small  and  might  have  a  sense  of  destiny  or  purpose,  believing  that  great  things  are  possible.  however,  with  jupiter’s  expansive  nature,  there's  also  a  tendency  to  overdo  things—whether  it’s  speaking,  eating,  spending,  or  taking  risks.  sometimes,  your  confidence  can  border  on  overconfidence,  and  there’s  a  risk  of  exaggeration  or  arrogance.

✮ SATURN  IN  THE  1ST            is  the  complete  opposite  of  jupiter.  where  jupiter  brings  expansion  and  a  carefree  energy,  saturn  brings  structure  and  discipline.  this  placement  makes  you  more  composed,  reliable,  and  reserved.  you  come  across  as  serious,  with  a  strong,  but  often  intimidating  presence.  at  first,  people  may  find  you  distant,  wise,  or  even  unapproachable  until  they  get  to  know  you.  unlike  sun  or  jupiter,  which  express  personality  boldly  and  openly,  saturn  refines  and  controls  how  you  show  up.  you  tend  to  hold  back,  carefully  considering  what  you  say  and  how  you  present  yourself.  your  demeanor  is  serious,  professional,  and  mature—there’s  a  sense  of  caution  in  the  way  you  engage  with  others.  saturn  in  the  1st  doesn’t  offer  natural  luck  like  jupiter;  instead,  it  pushes  you  to  work  hard  for  everything  you  achieve.  you  don’t  rush  into  things  and  prefer  to  observe  before  acting.  others  may  feel  they  need  to  prove  themselves  to  you  before  you  open  up,  and  whether  intentional  or  not,  you  project  an  authoritative,  no-nonsense  vibe.  while  this  gives  you  a  sense  of  strength,  saturn  can  also  create  self-imposed  limitations  and  fears,  especially  around  expressing  your  true  self.

✮ URANUS  IN  THE  1ST  this  placement  makes  your  rising  sign  constantly  evolve,  giving  you  a  vibe  that’s  rebellious  and  unpredictable.  you  express  your  ascendant  traits  in  ways  that  are  bold,  electrifying,  and  often  out  of  the  ordinary.  while  it  might  feel  completely  normal  to  you,  to  others,  it’s  always  a  surprise.  your  presence  is  magnetic  and  full  of  sudden,  unexpected  shifts,  making  you  someone  people  can  never  fully  predict.  whether  it’s  through  fashion,  beliefs,  or  changes  in  personality,  you  constantly  reinvent  yourself,  and  at  different  points  in  your  life,  you  might  appear  completely  different.  you  naturally  challenge  authority,  disrupt  traditions,  and  question  outdated  norms  simply  by  being  yourself.  this  can  bring  competition  and  unnecessary  tension,  with  some  people  disliking  you  for  no  apparent  reason.  your  energy  is  captivating  and  full  of  surprises,  and  your  life  often  feels  like  a  series  of  twists  and  turns.  while  it’s  exciting,  it  can  also  feel  chaotic  or  offbeat  with  the  expectations  of  society.  this  placement  gives  you  an  eccentric,  unique  presence,  often  bringing  a  hot-and-cold  energy  that  keeps  people  on  their  toes.

✮ NEPTUNE  IN  THE  1ST   your  rising  sign  takes  on  a  dreamy,  mysterious  quality.  it  softens  the  traits  of  your  ascendant,  creating  an  ethereal  and  fluid  vibe  that  can  make  you  seem  like  you're  from  another  world.  there's  a  sense  of  transcendence  about  you—like  you're  part  of  this  world  but  also  not  fully  grounded  in  it.  people  might  find  you  elusive  and  hard  to  pin  down,  as  your  energy  is  gentle  and  often  difficult  to  read.  you  may  be  seen  as  too  sensitive  or  easily  affected  by  the  world  around  you.  neptune  brings  a  sense  of  idealization,  both  of  yourself  and  others.  sometimes  you  can  project  a  perfection  that  isn’t  fully  accurate,  which  can  lead  to  others  feeling  let  down  if  they  get  too  close  or  if  things  don't  live  up  to  the  ideal  you’ve  created.  this  foggy  influence  means  you  may  struggle  with  presenting  your  true  self  clearly,  leading  to  confusion  or  contradictions  in  how  others  perceive  you.  ultimately,  you  come  across  as  mysterious,  with  an  air  of  wonder  but  also  a  subtle  sense  of  ambiguity.

✮ PLUTO  IN  THE  1ST                 pluto  amplifies  everything  about  your  rising  sign,  adding  a  deep  intensity  and  transformative  energy.  there's  a  magnetic,  almost  hypnotic  quality  to  your  presence  that  others  can't  help  but  be  drawn  to.  people  may  find  themselves  inexplicably  attracted  to  you,  and  whether  you're  aware  of  it  or  not,  you  have  a  profound  influence  on  those  around  you.  your  energy  is  compelling,  and  you  leave  a  lasting  impact  the  moment  you  enter  someone's  life.  pluto  in  the  1st  makes  your  self-expression  ever-evolving,  pushing  you  to  constantly  shed  old  identities  and  embrace  transformation.  you're  unafraid  to  face  uncomfortable  truths  about  yourself,  and  you're  aware  of  both  your  light  and  your  shadow.  through  personal  rebirths  and  self-discovery,  pluto  forces  you  to  confront  your  deepest  fears,  and  this  gives  you  a  resilience  and  depth  that  others  can  sense,  even  if  they  can't  quite  put  their  finger  on  it.

✮ NORTH  NODE  IN  THE  1ST          this  placement  encourages  you  to  step  into  your  most  authentic  self,  embracing  your  individuality  and  destiny.  it's  about  self-discovery  and  learning  to  express  who  you  truly  are,  rather  than  conforming  to  others'  expectations.  with  the  North  Node  in  the  1st,  you're  pushed  to  assert  your  personal  identity  with  confidence  and  independence.  you  might  feel  a  deep  desire  to  understand  who  you  really  are  and  express  yourself  freely,  with  a  strong  need  to  project  your  true  essence  to  the  world.  this  placement  calls  for  you  to  take  charge  of  your  life  and  make  choices  that  are  aligned  with  your  personal  truth.  it  often  leads  you  to  work  on  self-acceptance  and  assert  your  identity  in  ways  that  set  you  apart  from  others.  your  presence  should  feel  authentic,  as  you  are  meant  to  stand  out  and  live  in  a  way  that  reflects  your  unique,  true  self.

✮ CHIRON  IN  THE  1ST           your  wound  is  closely  tied  to  how  you  present  yourself  to  the  world.  you  may  struggle  with  feelings  of  being  incomplete  or  flawed,  which  could  lead  to  self-doubt.  this  placement  can  make  you  feel  misunderstood  or  disconnected  from  your  identity.  however,  it  also  gives  you  a  deep  understanding  of  others'  vulnerabilities,  as  you've  likely  experienced  your  own  challenges  in  this  area.  chiron's  influence  can  bring  a  lack  of  confidence  and  difficulty  fully  embracing  your  unique  identity.  there's  often  a  tendency  to  hold  back,  as  you  might  fear  rejection  or  not  fitting  in.  healing  for  you  comes  through  helping  others  with  their  own  struggles,  as  it  allows  you  to  work  through  your  insecurities.  issues  related  to  body  image  or  how  you  feel  others  perceive  you  could  also  be  present  with  this  placement.

[sunseed-fandump]

OH BOY TIME FOR ANOTHER TAROT ANALYSIS!!!!

Here's Shadow Milk Cookie's REAL cards before they were changed! Despite not having the numbers, the imagery is consistent enough and makes it easy to know which card is which!

First up we have XV - The Devil, in the upright position.

In summary, The Devil represents oppression, addiction, obsession, dependency, excess, powerlessness, and limitations.

"Getting the devil card in your reading shows that you have feelings of entrapment, emptiness and lack of fulfillment in your life. It might also mean that you are a slave to materialism and opulence and no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to shake off the feeling of wanting to indulge in luxurious living. You might be aware that this kind of lifestyle is leading you down the rabbit hole, but you have that feeling of not having any form of control over your actions or urges."

Second we have XIII - Death, also upright.

This card represents transformation, endings, change, transition, letting go, and release.

"Death is one of the most feared cards in a Tarot Deck, and it is very misunderstood. Many people avoid mentioning this card because it has that much power. Most times, people take the name of the card literally. However, the real meaning within the Death card is one of the most positive in the whole deck.

The Death card signals that one major phase in your life is ending, and a new one is going to start. You just need to close one door, so the new one will open. The past needs to be placed behind you, so you can focus your energy on what is ahead of you."

Lastly, we have XX - Judgement.

In the upright position it represents self-evaluation, awakening, renewal, purpose, reflection, and reckoning.

"The traditional Judgement meaning focuses on the moment when we reflect and evaluate ourselves and our actions. It is through self-reflection that we can have a clearer and objective understanding about where we are now, and what we need to do in order to grow as humans. The Judgement card appearing in a reading signifies that you are coming close to this significant point in your life where you must start to evaluate yourself.

To see this card can also indicate that you are in a period of awakening, brought on by the act of self-reflection. You now have a clearer idea of what you need to change and how you need to be true yourself and your needs. This can mean making small changes to your daily life or making huge changes that not only affect you but the people close to you."

When applied to Shadow Milk Cookie, an interpretation of these cards are hinting at a great event or change that will force him to reevaluate either himself or a decision he's made. Leading to some sort of renewal or reckoning. Now is this his actual fate? Is it hinting at a possible redemption or is he going to get hit with the karma stick in a future update leading to his demise? I'm not sure! It could swing either way.

But what about the altered cards? What was the fate Shadow Milk Cookie wanted?

Our first card in this reading is X - The Wheel of Fortune.

Upright, it means change, cycles, fate, decisive moments, luck, fortune, and unexpected events.

"The Wheel of Fortune turns evermore, seemingly to communicate that life is made up of both good and bad times, and that the cycle is one that we cannot control. It is something that is subjected to both kings and workers, and that nobody on earth can avoid what is fated. When you have good moments in your life, make sure that you enjoy to the fullest, for what comes up must always go down. The same is true in reverse - when you are in a bad situation, things will eventually become better again."

Next we have Black Sapphire Cookie as IV - The Emperor.

This card represents stability, structure, protection, authority, control, practicality, focus, and discipline.

"It’s all about control when it comes to the Emperor, for this card means authority, regulation, organization and a fatherliness. The Emperor represents a strategic thinker who sets out plans that he must see through. He is a symbol of the masculine principle - the paternal figure in life that gives structure, creates rules and systems, and imparts knowledge. Where the Empress's desire for their kingdom is to create happiness, the emperor desires to foster honor and discipline. He guides with a firm hand, following the calling of the crown above all else. Though he is a ruler, he understands that to reign is also to serve - thus he acts rationally and according to what is for the greater good of the kingdom."

Lastly we have Candy Apple Cookie, one might mistake her card for the Empress, but don't be fooled! Due to the distinct symbolism of the black and white pillars behind her, I firmly believe that she's actually II - The High Priestess!

This card represents unconscious, intuition, mystery, spirituality, higher power, and an inner voice.

"The meaning of the High Priestess is related with inner knowledge. Her appearance in a reading can signify that it is time for you to listen to your intuition rather than prioritizing your intellect and conscious mind...

The card itself shows a night-time scene, meaning that the world in which she protects and guards is one that may at first seem frightening, but has the potential to lead us into the growth of the self. When she appears in a reading, she is calling to you to listen to her message, and follow her into your own depths. There is searching within yourself to be done for the answers that you seek. The answers to the questions you have are within, not without."

What do these cards mean when put together?

An ever shifting troubled fate leading to the establishment of a ruler or mentor figure followed by listening to this mentor's message and guidance towards a new outlook/enlightenment.

I think, with this reading, Shadow Milk Cookie is sort of hint-hint nudge-nudging at PV again. Basically more of his "join me and i'll lead you to a better world. i'm destined to guide you." sorta gaslighting BS.

Sorry for the long post. All and all, these are both very interesting readings!

[burningembers91]

Like a Dog - The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Freak of Nature

On Display

A Game of Cat and Mouse

Crime of Passion

Rare

Gunpowder and Lace

Synopsis: Your grey suited man has finally relinquished control

A/N: well, I did NOT see the story going this way! But, the more I write for him the more I can’t help but see him as a secret sub. He’s so dark and evil during the day, but I can see him being so needy for his woman at night. So yeah, I guess this is now a Sub!Salesman storyline 🤗 but he’s still completely insane

Also, for the alleyway scene in this fic, I was deffo picturing this gif:

There was something so intimate about relinquishing control. It gave him a sense of freedom he’d never felt before, a kind of peace he was sure he’d never know. Since telling you his name, his world had altered, had taken on a new meaning. He was always so sure he’d wanted to control you, to torture you until you broke; it was a force of habit, really. He’d always been good at breaking things, of tearing even the strongest people down until they were nothing but withered shells. But somewhere along the line, his desires towards you had changed. You’d brought something new to his life; love.

It was an odd feeling, one that he’d never felt before. He’d been so sure that he was entirely incapable of feeling anything towards any living thing, and at first it at felt uncomfortable. It was uncomfortable the way his heart physically ached for you, the feeling seeping down into the pit of his stomach in a wave of delicious heat that tied itself in knots around his senses. At first he’d been sure he was having a heart attack, or possibly a stroke, but he was convinced that neither of those things were supposed to feel pleasurable, not like he felt when he was with you. He missed you when you weren’t around, and craved you when you were. He was like a loyal dog, blindly following you whenever you went.

He found it hard to concentrate at work, always wondering what you were doing. He wanted to know how your day was, what you were having for lunch, what time you’d be home, how the kids in your classes were getting on. Love was inconvenient, love was a distraction, but he was beyond the point of caring. He’d almost made mistakes at work, and mistakes in his job were simply out of the question. He had to figure out a way of getting you out of his head, had to find a way to block you from his brain during the day. But no matter how hard he tried, you always managed to worm your way back in.

You were living with him now, his desire to be with you so strong that he simply couldn’t face living apart. He enjoyed seeing your things in his home; your perfumes and lotions next to his cologne, your clothes hanging up next to his in the closet. He found himself excited to come home, to bask in the domestic mundanity of ordinary life. You liked to read, and the two of you would lie across his expansive leather sofa, his head in your lap as you played with his hair, both engrossed in your own novels. He was worried you were making him weak, turning him into the kind of man he enjoyed breaking. There were days he couldn’t make it until the evening to see you, showing up at your school to meet you for lunch, or walking you home after the day had ended.

He allowed you full control in the bedroom, bending to your every will and desire. He was so pitifully grateful on the nights you gave him the power back, allowing him to feel in control again for a brief moment. But you were the one calling the shots now, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t care.

As his love for you grew however, so did his disdain for others. He’d always been the jealous type, had never liked to share. He found it harder to maintain his cool when you were out, his eyes constantly scanning the crowds to see if anyone had the gall to try and undress you with their eyes. There was always someone he could pick out, someone who looked at you the wrong way, who walked a little too close to you. One day when you stopped for coffee, a man had the audacity to queue jump, pushing past you as if you were invisible. That man ended up with a broken nose and two black eyes, left to cower in the alleyway behind the cafe as your grey suited man stamped repeatedly on his ribs until you told him to stop. He’d been a fool to think you were making him weak; you were only making him stronger.

You still had so many questions about the man who worshipped you like you were a goddess. You knew he was dangerous; had seen him take a man’s life and beat another one almost to death because they had disrespected you. He’d gone from stalking you like a cat stalks a mouse to begging for your attention, your validation. He was a man who would crawl through broken shards of glass if you asked him to. You knew virtually nothing about his family, only that he had parents, but he no longer spoke to them. You never met any of his friends, never met any of his colleagues. Your belief about his job in sales and recruitment was dubious. He dressed in custom Versace suits and Prada loafers, and you didn’t know any sales job that paid that well. You were hesitate to quiz him though; he treated you like royalty, giving you everything you’d desired and more, along with an undying, almost obsessive love he showered you in.

As much as he loved you, he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. It was a terrifying word, one that had never left his lips before. He’d never even told his parents that he loved them, because in truth he hadn’t. Until you came along, he viewed everyone with a quiet distaste. People were a nuisance, a waste of time unless they had something you needed. He hoped you knew how much he loved you though, hoped his devotion to you showed through his actions. He showered you in gifts, did everything around the house so you never had to lift a finger, marked your students essays on the nights you were too tired. He was your servant in the bedroom, living only to please you.

He’d been scared at first, scared when he realised he was happy to let you dominate him. He’d always been in control, had always been the one calling the shots, but he’d never realised how good it could feel to be the one treated like a dog. He found immense pleasure in fulfilling your every desire, of letting you use him like a toy. His work required him to always be alert, to always ensure no one bested him. It became a relief to come home at night and allow himself to be told what to do.

He was enjoying this life with you, a life of domestic bliss he never thought he’d crave. You were by no means a conventional couple, but it worked for you.

You knew he had a dark side, had seen it many times. And yet he played the doting boyfriend so well. You didn’t care how dangerous he was, how devilish his desires were when it came to toying with others. With you, he craved nothing but your love and respect. And you were happy to give it to him, your submissive, grey suited man.

[screeching-bunny]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do the yandre!game show host with a himbo/bimbo reader

Yandere! Game Show Host x Bimbo/Himbo Reader Asks 1

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Yandere! Game Show Host would absolutely adore you. He absolutely enjoys how there's absolutely not a single thought behind your eyes. He could literally be nonchalantly pulling up your clothes and you would be too dumb or preoccupied to notice him doing it. Would definitely make you wear provocative clothes all under the pretense of how it would be good for the viewer ratings and that this is just the policy of the company. Now get your ass in those tight little outfits before he explodes due to anticipation.

Yandere! Game Show Host likes how you are basically almost always dolled and glammed up no matter the time of day. He’d definitely feed into your shopaholic habits if you had any and would only allow you to get the skimpiest of clothes. There is probably a one hundred percent chance of you getting every single question wrong on the quizzes so he has to alter your answers for you.

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Okay now sweetie, what does blue and red make?”

You: “Uhhhhhh orange?”

Yandere! Game Show Host: “..... what's that you say? Purple? Why, that’s correct!!!”

You: “No I said–”

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Yep and I heard you say purple!!!!”

Other Contestants: Side-eying him

Viewers: *Too stunned to speak*

Yandere! Game Show Host is shoving his tongue down your throat the fastest chance he gets. Out of all of the yanderes he is definitely the most horniest. If you ever tell him that you want to pay him back for all he’s done for you, he’s immediately whipping his cock out, no questions asked. Just put those glossy lips right on there and all of your debt is immediately forgiven. He definitely makes sure to emphasize how sexually frustrated he is and how he would just loveeee it if someone were to give him the best sloppy toppy ever. Tries to convince you that if you don’t do it he might actually die.

Yandere! Game Show Host enjoys how easily distracted you get and how you have a hard time focusing on multiple things at once. If you ever tried to escape from him all he has to do is talk about how female hyenas have penises and you’d immediately forget what you were about to do. If he ever needed to fall asleep all he'd have to do is talk about the fall of Rome and you’d be out like a light.

Yandere! Game Show Host takes advantage of how you never fully process the dangerous situations you put yourself in. For example when it comes to the sleeping arrangement, contestants are put strictly in one room to be monitored 24/7 but you’d probably complain how you don’t want to sleep in a room with so many people in it. Yandere! Game Show Host would happily decide to offer for you to sleep with him in his bed which you would readily agree to. Next thing you know you’re stuck in bed with a creep who’s busy fondling you to sleep properly. He’d probably try to make this a regular thing and just force you to stay there every night from then on there.

—

You: “It was so nice of you to let me sleep in your bed that was so nice of you. It’s really weird though, you have such a big house but only one bedroom with one bed. You should probably start decorating your house better.”

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Yeah silly me I should really do better.”

You: “Wait a sec–” Notices how there's a piece of underwear that you lost a week ago peeking out of his drawer. “OH MY GOSH YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE!! YOU NOTICED HOW MY UNDERWEAR HAS GONE MISSING SO YOU GOT ME NEW PAIRS!!! HOW THOUGHTFUL OF YOU!!!”

Yandere! Game Show Host: sweating nervously. “... Yeah I noticed that too. You might not want to touch those though. They’re a little dirty because I haven’t washed them yet and accidentally spilled something on them yesterday–”

[wizardpink]

@iamanoccasionaldoodler

Okay so,

There seems to be this negative reaction to the finale from a lot of Devil's Minion fans and I don't understand it for a lot of reasons, but one of them is ... I don't get why people are upset that, when read at it's worst, Armand and Daniel are seemingly not on good terms after Daniel is turned. I keep seeing this belief that Armand "abandoned" him, which I think is fully pulled from y'alls collective ass, and a disappointment that Daniel would call Armand a "fucking asshole."

But the thing about Armand/Daniel everyone seems to be forgetting is that even in the source material, they first had to tear each other down to their bare bones before they could see each other well enough to love one another -- REALLY love one another. Because Armand is a russian nesting doll of lies, masks, and emotional walls, and with Daniel, idek if I can explain it properly, but I think its some combination of Armand needing to break him a bit to get him on his level of broken freakitude, and also Armand not being able to relate to the 20th Century Human period and needing to drill down into Daniel's core, straight down into the monkey brain that every homo sapien has shared for eons, before he can find something he understands.

If we were to ever get a proper Devil's Minion storyline on this show (and we will), they've laid the perfect groundwork by having Daniel EVISCERATE Armand right to his face, slicing his Gorgon's knot of lies and schemes in half and leaving it lay on that table. And Armand's face! HIS FACE! He can't believe it! Seventy-seven years with Louis who never could unravel all the strings, or simply didn't care to even bother. And THIS guy who seemingly hates him found Armand fascinating enough to try. AND succeed!

And why wouldn't he? Daniel may not have remembered until they were nearing the end of the interview, but Armand SHOWED Daniel what was beneath the mask years ago, the very first time they met. The jealous, insecure, desperate creature that was hiding under there, that IS Armand to Daniel.

I'm getting off track here, but what I'm trying to say is that as much as Armand turning Daniel in the books is SUCH a flawless scene, ultimately, if you believe in the infinite and eternal nature of their love story, it doesn't matter whether Armand turned Daniel before they fell for each other, afterward, during a break-up or at the climax of their most romantic streak. Like Lestat said, "We'll be together ten thousand nights, a hundred thousand. What we're doing is hard."

So maybe Armand turned Daniel shortly after Daniel stripped him bare in front of Louis, and Louis was so disgusted by what he saw, he threw him into a stone wall. Daniel could have run, too. For some reason, he didnt. Armand could have killed him in an instant, sitting at that table or after Louis left. He didn't. Armand made a conscious decision to tie himself to this man who just exposed him for ETERNITY. Because as horrific an experience as it was, as devastating and life-altering, he was seen.

"It is difficult to explain how his words disarmed me, how efficiently succinct and impenetrable his argument was. All my conceptions, even my guilt and my wish to die, seemed utterly unimportant, and I completely forgot myself and the barbaric scene that surrounded me. For the first time in my life, I was seen."

Louis said those words about Lestat as he described being made a vampire, when he kissed Lestat on the altar.

That feeling, of someone cutting to the core of you and telling you exactly what you are as no one else has ever been able to understand, made Louis accept the Dark Gift from Lestat.

And it made Armand give that Gift to Daniel.

[positivitygenic]

created systems and plurals, as well as anyone with a created headmate, alter, or part....

no matter how hard people try and push you out, you will always have a place on this blog and within the nontraumagenic community.

if one wishes, they may reblog this post if they feel similarly.

[scarletwinterxx]

magnets - choi seungcheol imagine 2/2

hellooooo ~ and here we are. thank you to all those who waited and loved the first part. tight hugs to all of you! may we all find love like this irl🤍

tbh the longest story I HAVE EVER WRITTEN. i hope you enjoy it🤍for part 1, click here

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The days that followed were… different.

Not in a dramatic, world-altering way, but in small, quiet shifts that felt almost imperceptible if you weren’t paying attention.

For one, Seungcheol didn’t push. He didn’t bombard you with texts, didn’t corner you into a conversation you weren’t ready for. He gave you space but remained present in the ways that mattered. And somehow, it was worse than outright confrontation.

Because this wasn’t the Seungcheol you’d prepared yourself for. This wasn’t the pushy, arrogant, untouchable man people whispered about.

This was someone who was willing to wait.

Of course it was Jeonghan who finally called you out on it.

“You’re sulking,” he said flatly one night, stretched out on your couch with a bowl of popcorn. “And don’t say you’re not because I’ve known you too long for that lie to work.”

You glared at him from your spot on the floor, cross-legged and stubborn. “I’m not sulking.”

Jeonghan popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Right. And I’m a morning person.”

There was a beat of silence before Jeonghan sighed and sat up properly, setting his bowl aside. “Okay, let’s try this another way. Why are you still running?”

You scowled. “I’m not—”

He shot you a look. “Don’t lie to me.”

You pressed your lips together, feeling cornered. “I’m not running. I just…” You exhaled sharply, struggling to find the words. “I don’t know how to trust this.”

Jeonghan softened slightly. “Trust what?”

“That it’s real.”

He studied you for a long moment before speaking again. “I get it,” he said, and somehow, that was worse than him arguing. “After everything, I get why it’s hard to believe someone when they say they won’t leave.”

“But, you know,” he continued, “there’s a difference between being careful and shutting people out completely.”

You scoffed. “This coming from you?”

Jeonghan smirked. “What can I say? I’m evolving.”

"Okay Charizard" you rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. After a pause, Jeonghan’s voice turned quieter. “He’s not your past, you know.”

You swallowed, throat suddenly tight. “I know.”

“Do you?” You didn’t answer.

The days that followed you found yourself stuck in a loop of indecision.

You weren’t actively avoiding Seungcheol anymore, you told yourself it was because you were busy—work had picked up, your schedule was packed, and frankly, you weren’t in the mood to deal with whatever emotional battlefield is going on inside your head.

But Jeonghan’s words had burrowed deep. "He’s not your past."

It should have been easy to accept. Seungcheol wasn’t them. He hadn’t walked away, hadn’t dismissed your feelings, hadn’t made you feel like you were too much or not enough at the same time.

Still, knowing that and believing it were two different things. You're aware that the only person making it complicated at this point is, because for him, liking you is as easy as 1 2 3.

One random day he texted,

Seungcheol: Are you free Friday? Seungcheol: If you’re not, it’s okay.

You stared at the messages longer than necessary, fingers hovering over the keyboard. And then, before you could think too hard about it—before you could talk yourself out of it—you typed out a reply.

You: where are we going?

Friday night, you found yourself standing outside a tiny, quiet restaurant tucked into a side street, arms crossed as you waited.

You weren’t sure what to expect. The last time you’d properly talked, you’d been pushing him away. Now, he was here again, proving that no matter how much distance you tried to put between you, he wasn’t going to let you disappear so easily.

“Nice choice,” he said, glancing at the restaurant. “You trying to make sure I can’t impress you with an expensive dinner?”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t impress me in general.”

He chuckled. “Sure.”

You turned toward the entrance, pretending you weren’t affected by how effortlessly charming he was. “Come on.”

Dinner started off… civil. You talked about safe topics—work, Jeonghan’s latest antics, Mingyu’s questionable life choices. It was easy, familiar, almost like nothing had happened between you.

But of course, that was never going to last.

“You’re still shutting me out,” Seungcheol said suddenly, mid-conversation.

You froze, fingers tightening around your glass. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he countered. “You’ve been doing it since the beginning.” Seungcheol leaned back, watching you with that unreadable expression that made you want to both slap and kiss him. “What are you so scared of?”

You scoffed. “I’m not scared.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You know what’s funny? You keep saying you don’t care, but you do. And it’s killing you trying to pretend otherwise.”

Your fingers curled into fists. “If I do, will you leave?”

Seungcheol’s expression didn’t change. “No.”

No hesitation. No doubt. Just a simple, steady refusal.

You hated how much that made your chest ache. And just like that, the walls you had built so carefully started to crack.

You exhaled sharply, pressing your fingers against your temple. “I’m being difficult.”

Seungcheol leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I know.”

You glared at him. “You’re supposed to argue.”

“Why? You already know it’s true. Atleast now you can admit it”

You clicked your tongue, looking away. The restaurant was cozy, dimly lit, a quiet contrast to the storm brewing inside your head. “I don’t know why you’re still here.”

He tilted his head, studying you. “Because I want to be.”

You scoffed. “Yeah? Even when I keep pushing you away?”

“Yes.”

You stared at him, waiting for the usual signs of frustration, the ones you were so used to seeing from people when you made things difficult. But there was nothing. No irritation, no exasperation. Just Seungcheol, calm and steady, like he had all the time in the world.

After dinner Seungcheol walked beside you, hands tucked in his coat pockets, the cool night air making his breath visible in the dim streetlights. it was quiet. Comfortable.

Then, out of nowhere, he smirked and nudged you lightly with his elbow. "What happened to the girl who walked up to me at the bar all confident?"

You raised an eyebrow at him. "What about her?"

He shrugged, feigning innocence. "Just wondering where she went. Thought she had me all figured out that night."

You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah, well… turns out, I bit off more than I could chew."

Seungcheol chuckled at that, glancing at you with something unreadable in his eyes. "Regretting it?"

You hesitated for half a second. "No." It was quiet again for a few beats, your footsteps echoing against the pavement.

Then, softer this time, he asked, "So what now?"

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you looked up at the sky, at the way the city lights drowned out the stars.

"Good question," you muttered.

Seungcheol stopped walking, causing you to take a few more steps before realizing and turning back to face him. His hands were still in his pockets, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes were locked onto yours, steady and unwavering.

"You keep running from me," he said, voice quieter now, but firm. "You keep pushing me away, shutting me out, making me prove myself over and over again. And I’ll keep doing it if that’s what it takes."

"I know you're scared," he continued. "I know you think this is going to end the way it always does. But I’m not them. I’m not going to leave just because things get complicated. I’m not going to get tired of you just because you have bad days. And I’m sure as hell not going to stop wanting you just because you're difficult."

Your throat felt tight. You hated how much those words affected you. How much you needed to hear them.

"You don’t have to let me in all at once," he said. "But stop pretending you don’t care when you do. Stop acting like this doesn't mean something to you when it does."

He stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him despite the chilly air. "You can tell me, let me know if I’m waiting for nothing. Then I'll go"

Your heart was pounding now, an erratic rhythm you couldn't control.

"You’re not," you admitted quietly.

Something flickered in his eyes, relief mixed with something deeper, something warmer.

"Good," he murmured. 

At first, it was small things.

A text here and there—nothing too much, nothing that would make you feel like you were giving in too quickly. You didn’t realize when it started shifting, when you stopped bracing for him to leave and started expecting him to stay.

One night, it was you who called first.

"You busy?" you asked, voice softer than you meant it to be.

Seungcheol chuckled on the other end of the line. "No. Missing me already?"

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see. "Forget it."

"Wait, wait," he said, laughter still in his voice. "Tell me."

You hesitated. "I just... felt like calling"

You didn't need to say it, he knew what it meant in your dictionary or atleast from what he learned so far. You wanted to talk, you're reaching out to him first and that made him smile.

There was a brief pause, then, "Stay where you are. I’m coming over."

And just like that, it became normal.

Some nights, he’d show up with takeout, and the two of you would eat in comfortable silence. Other times, you'd find yourself leaning into him when he sat next to you, your head against his shoulder without thinking. He never commented on it, never teased. He just let you.

One afternoon, after a long day, you called him again.

"Are you home?"

"Yeah," he said immediately. "You okay?"

"I don't know."

He was quiet for a moment. "Come over."

It wasn’t some grand confession, wasn’t some dramatic shift. It was just that—getting used to him. Letting yourself reach for him the way he had always reached for you. The moment Seungcheol opened the door, he took one look at you and sighed.

“You look like hell.” he says when you got to his apartment, holding the door open for you

“Wow, thanks,” you muttered, brushing past him

He didn’t argue, just closed the door behind you and followed you inside. His place was warm, dimly lit, the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. You stood there for a second, suddenly unsure why you even came.

“Did you eat?” he asked, already heading toward the kitchen

You shook your head.

“Didn’t think so,” he muttered, grabbing something from the fridge. You heard him moving around, the quiet clink of plates and the sound of water running.

You sat on the couch, letting your head fall back against the cushions. The weight of the week settled on you, exhaustion creeping in, but you fought it. Seungcheol came back minutes later, setting a plate of food and a glass of water in front of you.

“Eat first,” he said, sitting beside you.

You frowned. “I didn’t come here for food.”

“No, but you need it,” he countered. “And you need sleep, too. Don’t try to deny it.”

You glared at him, but it was weak. You were too tired to argue. “You really think I came here just to crash on your couch?”

“No,” he said, watching you carefully. “I think you came here because you didn’t want to be alone.”

Your fingers tightened around the glass of water. He wasn’t wrong.

When you were done, he took the plate without a word, disappearing into the kitchen. You let yourself sink deeper into the couch, your eyelids growing heavier. By the time he came back, you were barely awake, your body losing the fight against exhaustion.

“Told you,” he murmured, sitting next to you again.

You mumbled something incoherent, your head tilting to the side—against him. You didn’t mean to. But you were too tired to move, too tired to think. And he was warm, solid, steady.

Seungcheol didn’t say anything, just shifted slightly so you were more comfortable. And for the first time in days, you finally felt like you could rest.

Seungcheol didn’t move for a while. He just sat there, watching as your breathing evened out, your face finally softening from the tension you’d been carrying all week.

You came to him.

Not to fight. Not to push him away.

You came to him because you were tired, because you didn’t want to be alone, because—even if you wouldn’t say it out loud—you trusted him enough to just… be here.

That meant something.

His hand twitched like he wanted to reach out, to brush the hair out of your face, but he held himself back. You were already asleep, and he wasn’t about to wake you up now.

Instead, he just sighed, shifting slightly so you were more comfortable against him.

“Stubborn as hell,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no real bite to it.

If someone had told him back then, on the night you first met, that the confident, sharp-tongued person who strutted up to him in a bar would be the same one sleeping against his shoulder now, he would’ve laughed.

But here you were.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he had to fight to keep you close.

You were slipping. your head tilting lower, the weight of exhaustion making you lean into him without a second thought. Before you could slip too far, he moved, instinct guiding him as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in until your head rested against his chest.

And you didn’t even stir. Didn’t tense up. Didn’t fight it. Just stayed there, completely at ease against him. He let out a slow breath, his hand resting lightly against your back, fingers twitching slightly like he wasn’t sure if he should move or not.

This was new.

You letting him hold you. Trusting him enough to fall asleep on him.

Seungcheol leaned his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment before glancing down at you again.

The first thing you register when you wake up is warmth.

The second thing is the steady rise and fall beneath your cheek. Your eyes snap open, and the moment you realize you’re still on Seungcheol, still curled into his side, your entire body goes rigid.

“Oh my god—” You practically throw yourself off of him, scrambling upright so fast that you almost trip over your own feet.

Seungcheol groans, his hand moving to his neck, rolling it slightly like he’s trying to work out a knot. “Good morning to you too.”

“I—” Your heart is racing. “I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t—”

He watches you, amused, as you struggle for words, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Didn’t mean to what? Fall asleep?”

You stare at him, still half in shock, like you’re just now registering that you slept on him all night.

“Exactly! I didn’t mean to do that!” Your voice is slightly panicked. “I just—oh my god, I used you as a pillow.”

Seungcheol stretches, the corners of his lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “I noticed.”

You groan, pressing your hands to your face. “I’m so sorry. You probably have a neck cramp—”

“Oh, I definitely do.” He cracks his neck for emphasis.

You wince. “Ugh, I’m really, really sorry.”

He just looks at you, amusement laced in his voice as he leans back against the couch. “You gonna keep apologizing all morning?”

“Maybe.”

A few days later when you were out getting food, Jeonghan texted he was dropping by. When you return to your apartment, takeout bags in hand, you expected Jeonghan to be there waiting. What you didn't expect was Seungcheol sitting across from him. 

The tension in the air is palpable, and Jeonghan looks far too smug for your liking, while Seungcheol looks—annoyed? Amused? It’s hard to tell.

You blink at them. “Uh… what is happening?”

Jeonghan leans back against the couch, arms crossed. “Your boyfriend came to visit.”

You scowl. “He’s not my— Never mind. Why are you here, Cheol?”

Seungcheol stands, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wanted to see you.”

Before you can respond, Jeonghan cuts in. “He was just telling me about the night you fell asleep at his place.”

Your stomach drops. “Oh my god.”

Jeonghan smirks. “Did you know he was shocked that you actually slept well?”

Your eyes snap to Seungcheol, who is watching you carefully. “You—” You pause, shifting awkwardly. “I mean, it wasn’t a big deal.”

“It was a big deal.” Jeonghan hums. “Because she usually doesn’t sleep well.” He looks at you.

“You never told me you had it that bad.” Seungcheol is still looking at you, his gaze softer now.

You roll your shoulders, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not that bad.”

He sighs, stepping closer. “He said you only get four hours of interrupted sleep, if that.”

You groan. “Can you both stop?”

But Jeonghan is looking at Seungcheol with something like understanding now. “And yet, she slept well with you?”

Seungcheol nods. “Didn’t even wake up once.”

Jeonghan lets out a low chuckle. “Damn.” He glances at you. “Looks like you’re screwed.”

You glare. “How?”

Jeonghan gestures lazily between you and Seungcheol. “Because you like him. And your subconscious trusts him.” He grins. “And knowing Cheol? He’s not letting that go.”

You groan again, pressing your forehead against the door. “I should’ve stayed outside.”

Seungcheol chuckles, stepping even closer, voice softer now. “I don’t mind.”

You peek at him, hesitant. “Don’t mind what?”

He shrugs. “Being the person you can actually rest with.”

And that—that’s the moment you realize you’re in deeper than you ever planned to be. You don’t say anything for a moment, just stare at Seungcheol, feeling your heartbeat pick up. Then you turn sharply to Jeonghan, who is looking way too pleased with himself.

"Get out."

Jeonghan snorts. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." You point to the door. "Get. Out."

Jeonghan laughs, standing up. "Wow. I help you realize your feelings, and this is the thanks I get?"

"You’re not helping."

"Sure I am," he says, already grabbing his things and the take out bag. He turns to Seungcheol with an exaggerated pat on his shoulder. "Take care of our girl, yeah?"

Seungcheol smirks. "I plan to."

You shove Jeonghan toward the door. "Out!"

He barely dodges your foot as you fake a kick at him. "Alright, alright, I’m going! No need to get violent." He winks. "You two have fun." You slam the door in his face, exhaling hard before turning back to Seungcheol, who is now watching you with his usual unreadable expression.

"Sorry about him," you mutter, rubbing your temples.

Seungcheol just shrugs. "I don’t mind." Of course, he doesn’t.

You cross your arms, still feeling the remnants of irritation from Jeonghan’s meddling. “So? Why’d you drop by?”

Seungcheol leans back against your couch like he has all the time in the world. “You weren’t answering my texts.”

You blink. “That’s it?”

His lips twitch slightly, like he’s amused. “You usually text back, even if it’s just to tell me to go away.”

You look away, suddenly feeling warm. “I was busy. And you didn’t just come all the way here because of a few missed texts, Seungcheol.”

He shrugs. “Maybe I did.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You have a company to run. You don’t have time for things like this.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You don’t think you’re worth my time?”

You freeze. That wasn’t what you meant, but now, hearing it like that… You shift awkwardly. “That’s not—”

“Because you are,” he says, completely serious now. “And I don’t mind making time for you.”

Your throat feels suddenly tight, so you break eye contact, looking anywhere but at him. “…You’re annoying.”

He chuckles. “You say that a lot.”

You huff, turning toward the kitchen. “Whatever. I’m getting something to drink.”

As you walk away, you don’t see his smile soften, but you do hear him say, “I’ll take a coffee if you’re offering.”

As you set down a cup of coffee in front of him, Seungcheol watches you closely. His voice, quieter now, carries none of the teasing from earlier.

“Is it true?”

“What?”

He tilts his head, studying you. “What Jeonghan said. That you don’t sleep well.”

Your fingers tighten slightly around your own cup. You shouldn’t be surprised—of course Jeonghan would tell him. But something about hearing it from Seungcheol, hearing him ask so gently, makes your stomach twist.

You exhale, feigning nonchalance. “It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You sigh, setting your cup down. “It’s true. I’ve had trouble sleeping for a long time. Four hours on a good night, but it’s usually not restful.” You try to sound casual, but admitting it out loud feels weirdly vulnerable.

Seungcheol’s jaw tightens, like he’s holding something back. “And the other night? When you fell asleep on me?”

You hesitate, then force yourself to shrug. “I guess I was just really tired.”

He hums, swirling his coffee absently. “Or maybe you finally felt safe enough to sleep properly.”

His words make you freeze. Seungcheol watches you carefully, then speaks again, even softer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You scoff lightly, trying to cover the sudden, unsteady feeling creeping in. “It’s not exactly first-date conversation.”

He smirks, but there’s no real amusement in it. “We skipped that part anyway.”

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t let it go. “I mean it,” he says. “If it’s something you struggle with… I want to know. I want to help.” Your heart clenches. You’re not used to this—someone caring this much. 

You exhale, looking away. “It’s just how it’s always been. I got used to it.”

Seungcheol watches you for a moment, then leans back, stretching an arm along the back of your couch. “That doesn’t mean you have to deal with it alone.” A strange warmth settles in your chest. You don’t respond right away, but for the first time in a long time, you think maybe—just maybe—you don’t have to.

Seungcheol is naturally thoughtful, in his own way. The way he takes up space in your life has always been subtle yet persistent. But then, you start noticing more.

It’s little things at first. A new set of blackout curtains showing up at your place with a casual, “Figured they might help,” when he drops by. A bottle of melatonin on your kitchen counter that wasn’t there before, though he never mentions it. One night, when you’re at his place, you find a weighted blanket neatly folded at the end of his couch. You give him a suspicious look, but he just shrugs. “Jeonghan said it helps,” is all he says.

And then there are the nights.

You don’t even realize it at first, but he starts staying later. It’s not obvious—he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. Some nights, when you’re curled up on his couch, watching some random movie, you doze off without meaning to and he doesn’t wake you up.

It only clicks when, one night, you stir awake just enough to register the warmth at your side, the solid presence of Seungcheol beside you. His arm is draped loosely over the back of the couch, but his fingers are grazing your shoulder lightly, like he’s debating moving you or just staying still.

Then, carefully you feel him shift just enough to pull a blanket over you. His fingers brush against your arm for a second before he stills completely.

The next morning, when you wake up in your own bed, you realize—he must’ve carried you there before leaving. For the first time in a long time, you’re sleeping better. And you know it’s because of him.

Another night, something unexpected happened. Your fingers are barely grasping the hem of his shirt, like even in your half-asleep state, you don’t want to let go.

He looks down at you—your face relaxed in sleep, your breathing even. It’s rare to see you like this, vulnerable and unguarded. He knows how much you struggle to sleep, how restless your nights usually are. And yet, tonight, you’re not just asleep—you’re at peace.

And you want him to stay.

He swallows, hesitating. His instinct is to leave, to give you space, to not push. But then, your grip tightens just slightly.

“Stay,” you murmur, voice barely audible.

His chest tightens.

He exhales softly before finally relenting. He carefully shifts, settling back onto the couch beside you. You naturally gravitate toward him, your head resting against his shoulder. He doesn’t dare move, doesn’t want to break the moment.

Minutes pass, and then, without thinking, he reaches for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulls it over the both of you.

You sigh, a content little sound that makes his heart clench.

Seungcheol stares at the ceiling for a long time, completely still. He was supposed to leave. But instead, he stays.

The morning light filters softly through your curtains, casting a golden hue over the room. You blink groggily, your body warm and comfortable in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re in your room now, that’s when you notice him.

Seungcheol is still asleep beside you. For a moment, you just stare. His breathing is slow and steady, his face completely relaxed. The sight is… nice. Too nice.

The second he sees you awake, his lips curl into a lazy smile. “Morning,” he murmurs, voice still thick with sleep. 

Then, before you can stop yourself, you mumble, “I like your dimples.”

It’s soft, barely above a whisper, but he hears it. Seungcheol’s smile widens, and just like that,  his dimples deepen. You immediately bury your face into the pillow, realizing what you just said.

He chuckles, his voice still husky. “You like my dimples?”

You groan. “Forget it.”

“Nope,” he says, his amusement clear. “Too late. You said it.”

You peek at him from the pillow, your cheeks warm. He’s still smiling, still looking at you with that soft, fond expression. It makes your heart stutter.

You don’t talk about that night—not really—but you feel it lingering in the air, in the way he looks at you a second too long, in the way your body leans just a little closer to his without thinking.

He still checks in on you, still sends those random texts that somehow always come right when you need them. He still helps you sleep—whether it’s subtle things like sending you links to calming music or, on the nights you really struggle, staying until you doze off.

And then there’s you.

You find yourself texting him first sometimes. You don’t push him away when he’s close. You even catch yourself looking at him a little too long, memorizing the curve of his smile, the shape of his eyes, the way he somehow always smells really, really nice.

You don’t know when it happened, when he became someone you reach for instead of push away but it’s happening.

It’s a slow, quiet weekend. The kind where you don’t feel like doing much, so instead of going out, you’re at his place.

Seungcheol is on the couch, arm draped lazily along the backrest while you sit beside him, legs tucked under you. Your mind drifts, thinking about something, debating whether or not to ask.

You hesitate. You open your mouth, then close it. And of course, he catches it.

“What?” he asks, turning his head slightly toward you.

“Nothing,” you mumble, shaking your head.

But Seungcheol isn’t the type to let things go so easily. His hand finds your waist, tugging you just a little closer. “No, come on. What is it?”

You fidget, suddenly feeling ridiculous for even thinking about it. “It’s stupid.”

He scoffs. “You do realize I put up with your so-called ‘stupidity’ on a daily basis, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Great way to convince me to talk, Cheol.”

He chuckles, squeezing your waist lightly in encouragement. “Okay, okay. I’m serious. What is it?”

You hesitate again, fingers fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “I just… I wanted to know your favorites.”

“My favorites?”

“Yeah. Like… your favorite color, favorite food, drink—just… everything.” You shift, feeling a little embarrassed now. “But I didn’t want to sound annoying.”

Seungcheol stares at you for a moment, and then he groans. Like you just physically pained him. Like you just did something devastating.

You blink. “What?”

He grabs your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. “Do you even realize how cute you are right now?”

You push at his chest, groaning. “Oh my god, Cheol.”

“No, seriously.” He pulls you closer, practically caging you in. “You’re pouting. You’re actually pouting. Do you even know what you’re doing to me right now?”

“I was trying to be serious!”

“I am serious.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead, grinning. “You’re adorable. And for the record, you could never be annoying.”

The action felt so natural you didn't even register what he did. You just let yourself relax against him. “So, tell me then.”

He hums, pretending to think. “Well, my favorite color is black.”

“Figures.”

“My favorite food…” He pauses, then smirks. “Lately, anything you make.”

You scoff. “Liar.”

“I’m dead serious. Even when you mess up, it’s good.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t fight the warmth spreading through your chest. “Okay, what about your favorite drink?”

“Hm. Coffee, obviously.”

You nod, committing each answer to memory. You keep going, asking about little things—his favorite season, his favorite scent, even his favorite childhood memory. And he answers every single one. Somewhere in the middle of it, you rest your head against his shoulder, and he lets you.

Eventually, he asks, “Why the sudden curiosity?”

“Just wanted to know more about you.”

He chuckles, resting his chin atop your head. “Then ask me anything, anytime. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Just the faint hum of the TV and the steady rhythm of his breathing beside you. Your head is still resting on his shoulder, and his fingers are tracing mindless patterns along your sleeve.

And then, so softly, you whisper, "Why do you like me?"

You don’t know why you ask. Maybe it’s been lingering in your mind for too long, sitting in the back of your thoughts, waiting for a moment like this to slip out. Maybe you’ve been too scared to say it until now.

Seungcheol doesn’t answer right away. You feel him shift slightly, his head tilting down toward you. His fingers stop their slow tracing. Then, slowly, his arms tighten around you, pulling you in closer, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

And finally, he smiles.

“Because it’s you.” Simple. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like it was never even a question to begin with.

Your heart stumbles.

He keeps going, voice quieter now, like he’s letting you in on a secret. “You don’t even realize it, do you? The way you pull people in without even trying. The way you act all guarded, but deep down, you care so much it hurts. You pretend to be tough, but you—” He exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re probably the softest person I know.”

You swallow, suddenly unable to breathe properly.

“You make people want to stay,” he says, gaze warm, unwavering. “You make me want to stay.”

Your chest feels too tight, your throat closing up. It’s overwhelming, too much and not enough at the same time so you don’t say anything.

You just press your face into his shoulder, gripping onto his sleeve like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. He doesn’t push. He just holds you a little tighter. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just lets you bury yourself against him. His fingers move again, slow and steady along your back, tracing something soothing.

And then, in the quiet, he asks—

"What about you?"

His voice is soft, careful. Like he’s giving you a choice. Like he knows you could still push him away if you wanted to. You stay still, trying to ignore the way your heart is suddenly racing.

Seungcheol waits.

You don’t look at him when you mumble, “What do you mean?” 

“You asked me why I like you," he says. "So now I want to know—" He leans in just slightly, enough for his breath to brush against your hair. "Why do you like me?"

You tense. He must feel it, because his arms stay firm around you, like he’s telling you it’s okay. That he’s not going anywhere. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Because what are you supposed to say? That you like the way he makes you feel safe, even when you’re scared? That you like the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room? That you like how, even when you try to push him away, he stays?

"I don't know."

Seungcheol hums, but he doesn’t sound disappointed.

"You do," he says, amused. "You're just not ready to say it to me yet but that's okay" he bumps the tip of your nose with his finger

That makes your stomach flip. You finally look up at him, and he's already watching you. Not expectantly, not impatiently. Just there. Waiting. And somehow, that makes you want to say it more.

So you whisper, "I like you because..." You trail off, then exhale, pressing your forehead against his chest.

He chuckles. "Because what?"

You groan again. "I don’t know. Because you’re you.”

Seungcheol stills then you feel him smile against your hair, arms pulling you in tighter. He understood what that meant for he said the same thing, but in his mind it meant more and maybe that's how you felt too. But he doesn't push instead he presses his lips against your hair

"Okay," he says, voice full of something you can’t quite place. "I’ll take that."

You don’t know why you do it.

Maybe it’s the warmth of his arms around you, the way he looks at you like you’re something precious. Maybe it’s the way your heart has been hammering against your ribs since he asked but before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you lean in.

A quick press of your lips against his.

Soft. Barely there. You pull away almost immediately, heart pounding, and Seungcheol just blinks at you. Like you’ve stunned him. Like he wasn’t expecting it at all.

And maybe that should make you panic, but instead, you just breathe

"Because you make me feel safe."

Seungcheol’s eyes widen. You don’t stop.

"Because you always stay, even when I push you away. Because you don’t make me feel stupid for being scared." Your voice is quieter now, almost shaky. "Because I sleep better when you’re around."

Seungcheol exhales sharply, jaw tightening. His hands flex against your waist, like he’s holding himself back.

But you’re not done.

"And because—” You swallow, forcing yourself to look at him, to really look at him. “—because I think I like you more than I’m ready to admit."

Something shifts in his expression. And then he moves. His hand lifts, fingers threading gently through your hair, tilting your face up.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice is rough, barely a whisper. You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nod. And then his lips are on yours, slow and deep and warm.

And this time, you don’t pull away. You don’t know how long you stay like that. kissing him, feeling the warmth of his hands steady on your waist, his breath mingling with yours.

It’s slow, unrushed, like he has all the time in the world for you. When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless. He presses his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you close. His eyes are closed, like he’s savoring this moment, like he’s trying to commit every second to memory.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," he murmurs.

Your fingers tighten around his hoodie. "Have you?"

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze soft but serious. "Yeah. Since the first night I met you."

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. "Liar."

"I’m not lying." His thumb brushes over your cheek, his touch unbearably gentle. "You walked up to me, all confident, all fire. And I knew I was in trouble."

You roll your eyes, but your heart is thudding painfully in your chest.

"I’m serious," he says, tilting his head. "You think you’re the only one who got caught up in something bigger than they expected?"

You don’t know how to respond to that. So you just stay there, pressed against him, his warmth seeping into you.

Eventually, he sighs, pulling you even closer, until your head rests against his chest.

"Are you going to run away again?" he asks, voice quieter now.

You hesitate. Then, with a small shake of your head, you mumble against his hoodie, "Not this time."

Seungcheol chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Good," he whispers. "Because I’m not letting you go."

A few days passed since then.

You’re mid-story, animatedly recounting something that happened at work. something about a ridiculous customer complaint and how Jihyo nearly lost her mind handling it. You’re laughing, shaking your head as you lean back against the passenger seat

“So then, Jihyo turns to me and goes, ‘Do you think your boyfriend would cover bail if I strangled this guy?’ And I was like—”

You don’t notice the slip.

But he does.

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything at first, but his grip tightens just slightly on the steering wheel. His lips twitch like he’s holding back a smirk. You keep talking, unaware, until the silence stretches just a little too long, and you finally glance at him.

“What?” You frown at his expression, at the barely concealed amusement in his eyes.

He hums, tilting his head slightly. “Nothing.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, what?”

He shrugs, but that damn smirk is there now, full and knowing. “Just thinking about what you just said.”

Your brows furrow, replaying the conversation in your head—until it clicks. Your eyes widen slightly.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he repeats, mockingly

Your face heats up instantly, and you groan, covering it with your hands. “Forget it. I misspoke.”

“Mmm,” he hums, clearly unconvinced. “I don’t know. Boyfriend, huh?”

You glare at him from behind your fingers. “You heard nothing.”

He chuckles, so pleased with himself. “I definitely did.”

You groan louder, sinking into the seat, but he just reaches over, lacing his fingers through yours as he drives.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. “I like the sound of it.”

You grumble under your breath, something about him not even asking you. Seungcheol hears it, of course. He always hears everything.

“What was that?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, looking out the window.

He scoffs, giving your hand another squeeze. “No, no, I definitely heard you.”

You sigh, shifting in your seat. “Just saying... You didn’t even ask me.”

He chuckles, amused. “Didn’t think I had to. Thought it was obvious.”

You turn to him, raising a brow. “Oh? And what exactly is obvious?”

“That you’re mine,” he says smoothly, like it’s the simplest truth in the world.

“Cocky.”

He smirks, glancing at you as he slows at a red light. “So? Are you saying I should ask?”

You cross your arms, pretending to think. “Maybe. It’s the proper thing to do, you know. Can’t just go around assuming.”

He hums, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Alright then.” He turns to you fully, eyes soft yet unwavering. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You blink. You weren’t actually expecting him to ask—at least not now. A beat of silence passes. And you just reach for his hand, he smiles looking down at your intertwined hands.

Dating Seungcheol is both a blessing and a menace. Most days, he’s a teasing little shit, poking fun at you, making sly comments just to see you get flustered. But then there are moments—fleeting but potent—where you do something that makes him completely malfunction.

Like now.

It’s like the universe is testing Seungcheol. You don’t even notice. Just plop onto his couch, tugging your knees up, he’s across from you, jaw clenched so tightly it might snap, fingers curled into a fist against his thigh.

“You okay?” you ask, tilting your head.

He exhales through his nose. “Peachy.”

Then there’s the way you touch him so casually, so carelessly. Like now, when you’re leaning over to grab the remote from beside him, palm resting on his thigh for balance. You don’t even think about it. But he does. Oh, he does.

“Sweetheart.” His voice is low, strained.

You pause, remote in hand, blinking at him. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to focus on anything that isn’t you.

But the universe isn’t done torturing him yet.

Because then there’s the time you’re at his place late at night, exhausted from work, and you decide to shower there  And he’s fine. He really is, until you step out of the bathroom, steam rolling behind you, skin still damp, wearing one of his shirts.

And it’s too much.

You’re rubbing your towel over your hair, completely unaware of the way his gaze darkens. Your legs are bare, your collarbone peeking from where the fabric slips off your shoulder, and when you look up at him and pout because your hair won’t dry properly, he damn near blacks out.

“Come here.” His voice is hoarse.

You step between his legs as he grabs the towel from your hands, gently drying your hair. You close your eyes at the feeling, sighing in content, and something inside him snaps. The towel drops. His fingers card through your damp strands, then skim over your jaw, tilting your face up until your noses are almost touching.

“Why do you do this to me?” he murmurs.

You blink, confused. “Do what?” He exhales sharply, pressing his forehead against yours, trying to steady himself. You’re too close, too soft, too fucking tempting, and you have no idea what you do to him.

He can’t kiss you. He won’t. Not now. Because if he does, he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop. You look at him, genuinely clueless, which makes it so much harder for him.

“No, tell me,” you insist, voice soft but stubborn. You throw your arms around his shoulders, pressing yourself against him like you belong there. Like you have any idea what you’re doing to him.

Seungcheol swallows hard. His hands hover over your waist, unsure whether to pull you closer or push you away before he loses all control. He exhales sharply, eyes flickering between yours and your lips, and fuck you’re looking at him like that, all wide-eyed and waiting, completely oblivious to the war raging inside him.

His fingers tighten around your waist. “Sweetheart,” he warns.

“What?” 

“You,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with restraint. “You drive me insane.”

You blink. “Me?”

He scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, you.”

You tilt your head, lips pursing in thought. Then, with a teasing smile, you press even closer, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Like… in a good way?”

He groans, dropping his head onto your shoulder, body tense under your touch. “You’re killing me.”

You grin, clearly enjoying this now. “Oh.” You hum, pretending to think. “Should I stop?”

Seungcheol lifts his head, eyes dark as they lock onto yours. “No,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Don’t.”

Instead, you shift, adjusting your position, and in doing so, you press even closer, your breath warm against his jaw. His fingers twitch against your waist. His breathing is uneven now, ragged. You���re playing with fire and you don’t even know it.

You pout. “Why won’t you just tell me?”

He exhales sharply. “Because if I do, I’ll do something reckless.”

Your brows knit together, still oblivious. “Like what?”

One second, you’re tangled in him, his lips hot against yours, his grip firm and possessive. Next, you’re suddenly weightless.

“What the—Cheol!” you yelp as he lifts you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your arms clinging to his shoulders. He doesn’t give you a chance to react, he strides towards his bedroom like a man on a mission. Before you can even fully process it, he tosses you onto the bed.

You bounce slightly, gasping, and before you can sit up, a blanket is thrown over you, covering you completely.

Then, his voice, rough and absolutely wrecked— “I’m taking a cold shower.”

The bathroom door slams shut. For a moment, you just lie there, wrapped up in the blanket, in shock. Then, the realization of what just happened hits you.

You burst out laughing.

Seungcheol, the ever-composed, ever-in-control man, just physically removed himself from the situation because of you.

After his cold shower, you watch as Seungcheol grabs a pillow—no, two pillows—and shoves them between you, effectively creating a makeshift wall. His jaw is tight, his ears red, and he mutters under his breath, “I’m not taking another cold shower because of you.”

You blink at him, amused. “You make it sound like I’m the problem here.”

He scoffs, pulling the blanket over you properly, tucking you in like you’re some misbehaving child. “Oh, you are the problem.”

You grin, burrowing into the warmth of the bed. “Wouldn’t be a problem if you just—”

“Sleep.” His voice is firm, though the way he fluffs your pillow for you before lying back down betrays his exasperated fondness.

“Really? You think this will stop me?”

Seungcheol groans, throwing an arm over his face. “For the love of God, just close your eyes and go to sleep.”

You smirk in the dark, fingers lightly tapping against the pillow barrier. Then, just to mess with him, you whisper, "Seungcheol." You hear him exhale sharply, like he's really holding on to his patience. 

"Baby, please." His voice is strained, almost desperate.

You giggle, completely unbothered, and finally, finally let yourself relax. “Okay, okay. Good night, Cheol.”

He doesn’t respond right away, just sighs heavily. Then, softer this time, “Good night.”

And with that, you finally fall asleep—while Seungcheol spends the next half hour staring at the ceiling, trying to get his heart to calm the hell down.

Things are going good, great even. But of course it's like your mind can't let you have a moment of peace.

The thought hit you out of nowhere, settling like an annoying weight in your chest.

You were out with the girls, sitting in your usual corner of the café, but your mind was far from the conversation. The last few nights replayed in your head—every time you teased Seungcheol, every time he pulled away, walked off.

It made you wonder… What if he doesn’t want you like that?

What if you’d misread everything? What if he was just tolerating you, indulging you even, but deep down, he didn’t actually—

"Okay, what’s up with you?" Jihyo’s voice snapped you back to reality. You blinked, realizing everyone at the table was now looking at you

"Huh?"

Irene smirked. "You’ve been spacing out. Something on your mind?"

You hesitated. You weren’t about to pour your heart out in the middle of a brunch spot, but at the same time, the thought was eating at you.

"It’s just…" You chewed on your lip. "Do you think it’s possible for someone to really like you but…not want you like that?"

Jihyo raised an eyebrow. "You’re talking about Seungcheol, aren’t you?"

You avoided their stares, but your silence was enough of an answer.

Irene sighed, setting her cup down. "He’s a grown man, babe. If he didn’t want you like that, he’d say so. Trust me, men are not subtle when they’re not interested."

"Yeah, but what if it’s not that?" you pressed. "What if he just doesn’t see me that way?"

Jihyo scoffed. "Oh my god, you’re actually dumb."

"Excuse me?"

She leaned forward, eyes sharp. "That man looks at you like you hung the damn moon. He gets all flustered because he’s trying so hard to be good for you. He’s literally suffering, and you’re sitting here thinking he doesn’t want you?"

Irene nodded. "You don’t see the way he looks at you, do you?"

You swallowed, suddenly feeling even more ridiculous. "I just— I don’t know," you admitted. "Every time things get…close, he walks away. And now I can’t stop wondering if maybe—"

"Okay, I’m stopping you right there," Jihyo cut in. "Because if we let you spiral, we’ll be here all day. This is you, the same woman who walked up to him that night all confident and emerged victorious after getting THE Choi Seungcheol's number. Babe, don't doubt what you do to that man"

"Then what do I do?" you asked, exasperated.

She smirked. "You stop overthinking and talk to him, obviously."

And that's what you do. When Seungcheol opened the door, the first thing he saw was your pout. His brows furrowed instantly. "What's wrong?"

You just walked past him, kicking your shoes off, before flopping onto his couch with a dramatic sigh.

"You don’t want me, do you?"

Seungcheol blinked. "What?"

You sat up, arms crossed. "I mean, you like me, but you don’t want me like that."

It took him a full three seconds to process your words. Then, he let out a sharp laugh like the kind you make when you’re so caught off guard you don’t know how else to react.

"Wait, are you serious?"

You narrowed your eyes. "Don’t laugh! I’m being serious."

He ran a hand down his face, inhaling deeply before crouching in front of you. His hands came to rest on your knees, fingers warm against your skin.

"Baby," he said slowly, as if trying to make sure you really heard him. "I want you so badly it’s a problem."

Your face heated. "Then why do you always stop?"

His jaw clenched, and he exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to rein himself in. "Because you’re not just some girl I want to mess around with. You matter to me. And if I’m gonna have you like that, I want to make sure you’re really ready."

You frowned. "I'm a grown woman I can make decsions you know"

"I know"

"And what if I am?" you ask, peering down at him

His fingers flexed against your knees, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Then you need to stop looking at me like that," he muttered, voice lower now.

"Like what?" you challenged, tilting your head

His grip on you tightened slightly. "Like you want me to lose every bit of self-control I have."

You held his gaze, feeling your own heartbeat pick up. 

"And if I do?"

His jaw locked. For a moment, he just stared at you, like he was weighing every possible option. Then, in one smooth motion, he pushed himself up, towering over you.

"Get up," he murmured.

Your breath caught. "Why?" but you follow his words. Now you’re standing in front of him, look of frustration and something else in his eyes

“The next time you feel like I don’t want you, you have my full permission to hit me on the face”

“Cheol, I’m being serious” you mumble

“So am I, I want you. Always. In ways I didn’t even know I can ever want someone. That’s why I want to do this the right way. So tell your pretty little mind how crazy I am about you, because I will never get tired proving it to you. I want and I will kiss all those worries away, get rid of all those doubts in your head until all you can think about is me.”

The way he’s looking at you tells you everything you needed to know, and his words just proved to you that this man means everything. 

The following days, that conversation floated inside Seungcheol's head. Even though you came to him full of worries, which he shut down quite fast, atleast now instead of running away from him you came straight to him for answers.

And to you, that's a big deal. A huge step for you, a big win for him. He's so proud of how far you've come.

That's exactly why now he's staring at his computer screen, but he wasn’t actually reading anything. His mind was elsewhere, circling the same thought over and over.

"Hey."

Joshua’s voice snapped him out of it. He looked up to see his friend leaning against the doorway of his office, arms crossed, a knowing look on his face

"You’ve been spacing out for the past ten minutes," Joshua said, stepping inside. "What’s up?"

Seungcheol exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Nothing."

Joshua raised an eyebrow. "You? Lost in thought like this? Yeah, that’s not ‘nothing.’"

Seungcheol rolled his chair back slightly, leaning against it. His jaw tightened before he finally admitted, "How do you know if it’s too soon to say something?"

Joshua frowned slightly. "Say what?"

Seungcheol hesitated, then shook his head. "Doesn’t matter."

Joshua scoffed, dragging a chair over and sitting down across from him. "Oh, it definitely matters."

Seungcheol let out a slow breath. He wasn’t the type to get caught up in things like this. He had always been rational, controlled. But now?

Now, he was thinking about you. How you felt curled up against him. How you whispered things when you’re half-asleep. How one pout from you and it’s messing with his head without even realizing it.

Joshua watched him closely. "You know you’re terrible at being vague, right?"

Seungcheol let out a humorless chuckle. "Shut up."

Joshua smirked. "It’s about her, isn’t it?"

Seungcheol didn’t respond, which was response enough.

Joshua leaned back, thoughtful. "You’re wondering if it’s too soon to tell her how you feel."

Seungcheol’s fingers tapped against his desk. "It’s... complicated."

Joshua tilted his head. "Is it? Or are you just scared?"

"I’m not scared."

Joshua just smirked, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh."

Seungcheol shot him a glare. "I’m not." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "I know how I feel."

That was the problem. He wasn’t second-guessing himself. He wasn’t unsure. He knew exactly what he wanted, exactly how much he cared about you. That wasn’t the issue.

The issue was what if he said it and you freaked out? What if you weren’t ready to hear it? What if he messed this up when things were finally good between you two?

He had worked so damn hard to get here, to get past your walls, to get you to trust him. If he said the words too soon, would you take a step back? Would you run?

Joshua was watching him, a knowing look in his eyes. "So... what are you going to do?"

Seungcheol exhaled. "I don’t know."

Joshua nodded slowly. "Well, you better figure it out. Because from what I can see? You’re already in deep."

Seungcheol had been acting different.

It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing anyone else would notice, but you did. He was still the same—still teasing, still touching you when he could, still looking at you in that way that made your stomach flip. But there was something underneath it all, a tension in his shoulders, a weight behind his eyes, like he was carrying something he wasn’t saying.

And you hated that.

You hated when people acted like they wanted to say something but didn’t. It made you anxious, made your mind wander to all the worst possible reasons. Was he mad at you? Annoyed? Regretting something?

You tried to ignore it at first. You didn’t want to overthink things, didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing. But it had been days, and it was still there.

Like now.

You were at his place, curled up on his couch, your legs resting over his lap as he scrolled through something on his phone. It should’ve been a normal moment but you weren’t relaxed. Not when you could feel it—his energy, the stiffness in his posture, the way he wasn’t fully present.

You narrowed your eyes. "Okay, what’s up with you?"

Seungcheol looked at you, brow raised. "What?"

"Don’t what me," you shot back, sitting up a little. "You’ve been weird. Tense. You keep looking like you wanna say something but then don’t, and I don’t like it."

His mouth parted slightly, but he didn’t say anything. And that just pissed you off more.

You swung your legs off him and sat up properly, arms crossing. "Seriously? You’re still not gonna say anything?"

"There’s nothing to say," he finally answered, running a hand through his hair.

"Bullshit."

His head snapped toward you, startled by the change in your tone

"You think I can’t tell? You think I don’t notice?" You shook your head, jaw clenched. "I hate when people do this. When they keep things to themselves like I’m too fragile to handle it. So either say whatever it is, or stop acting like you’re carrying the weight of the world."

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, leaning back against the couch. "It’s not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because," he said, voice low, "I don’t wanna mess this up."

That gave you pause.

Your frustration flickered with something else, something softer, something unsure. "Mess what up?"

His eyes met yours then—dark and unreadable, but heavy with meaning. And suddenly, you felt tense. Seungcheol watched as you pushed off the couch, your jaw tight, your movements sharp. You didn’t even look at him as you grabbed your phone and hoodie from the coffee table.

"What are you doing?" he asked, voice low

"Leaving," you said shortly. That one word had something hot and annoyed burning in his chest.

"You’re really gonna walk out just because I don’t want to talk about something right now?"

You let out a humorless laugh. "I don’t wanna say anything else that’s gonna piss me off even more, so yeah, I’m leaving."

Seungcheol stood then, stepping toward you. "You’re mad."

"No shit," you bit out, finally meeting his eyes.

He could see it—the way your hands gripped your hoodie tighter, the way your expression was carefully set, like you were forcing yourself to hold back.

He took another step closer, his voice softer. "Hey."

You didn’t move away, but you didn’t soften either. "Fine," you said, shaking your head. "Don’t say it. Keep whatever it is to yourself. But don’t act like I’m imagining this."

Then you turned toward the door. And for a second, he let you but the moment your fingers touched the handle, something in him snapped.

"Wait."

You paused, but you didn’t turn around. Seungcheol exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He could let you go. He could pretend this tension between you wasn’t suffocating him, that he wasn’t overthinking every second he spent with you now.

But he couldn’t.

"Wait," he said again, softer this time.

You still didn’t turn around, but you didn’t move either.

"I—" He hesitated, clenching his jaw. He had to say something, or he was going to lose you to this stupid misunderstanding.

"I don’t want to keep anything from you," he admitted. "But I’m trying to figure out how to say it so I don’t fuck this up."

At that, you finally turned, your eyes narrowing. "Fuck what up?"

He let out a frustrated laugh, rubbing his face. "Us, obviously."

Your lips parted slightly, and for the first time, he saw the flicker of doubt in your eyes. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I feel something, and I don’t know if it’s too soon to say it. I don’t know if you’re ready to hear it."

Your breath caught, and he saw your fingers twitch by your side.

"But the way you’ve been looking at me," you whispered, voice quieter now. "It’s been messing with my head. I don’t like not knowing."

"I know," he said, stepping closer. "And I don’t want to make you feel like that."

You held his gaze, searching his expression for something, anything that would make this all make sense. "Then just say it, Seungcheol," you murmured. "Whatever it is."

Seungcheol took a deep breath, his fingers twitching like he was holding himself back. Then, with a quiet chuckle—one that sounded more like surrender than amusement—he finally said it.

"I love you."

The words hung between you, heavy and charged.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you just stared at him, like your brain needed time to process what he'd just said. "You—"

"I love you," he repeated, firmer this time. "And I know it’s fast, but it doesn’t change the fact that I do."

You were silent, and his heart pounded in his chest. He wasn’t scared of how he felt—he never was—but this was the first time he was terrified of what you’d do with it.

When you finally spoke, your voice was small. "You weren’t going to tell me?"

"I wanted to," he admitted. "But I didn’t want to push you before you were ready."

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. "You idiot."

His brows lifted. "What?"

Before he could say anything else, you stepped forward and grabbed his face, pulling him down into a kiss. It wasn’t gentle, wasn’t careful—it was desperate, like you were making up for every second you spent doubting him.

He groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you impossibly close. When you finally broke apart, you stayed there, forehead resting against his, breath uneven.

"You love me," you whispered, like you were still trying to believe it.

"Yeah," he murmured, his thumb stroking the side of your face. "I do."

You swallowed hard. "Then say it again."

He huffed out a soft laugh, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before whispering against them, "I love you."

You just hug him, burying your face into his chest, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You don't say it back—not yet—but you don’t freak out either.

"You're an idiot," you mumble against his shirt.

Seungcheol lets out a soft laugh, his hands running up and down your back. "I figured that much"

You pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him. "You're an absolute idiot for thinking I’d run away now."

Something in his expression softens, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. His fingers tighten slightly where they rest on your waist.

"So... you're not mad anymore?" he asks, a bit cautious, a bit hopeful.

You roll your eyes, but there's no real bite to it. "Maybe at myself. The world, I don't know," you sigh, shaking your head before leaning back into his chest. "But I’m not running away, so you better deal with it."

Seungcheol chuckles, holding you even closer, his chin resting on top of your head. "Oh, I’ll deal with it just fine." he doesn’t let go. If anything, he holds you even tighter, like he's afraid that if he loosens his grip even a little, you might change your mind.

"You know," he murmurs, his voice warm against your hair, "I really wasn’t trying to keep anything from you. I just… I didn’t want to mess this up."

You sigh, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "You almost did."

He chuckles, but it’s breathy, like he knows how close he came. "Yeah. Noted."

You tilt your head back, looking up at him. His eyes are searching yours, and you can tell he’s still a little hesitant, still waiting for you to process everything.

But you stay there, in his arms, with him. No running away, no deflecting, no hiding away. Then you smile, kissing him softly like you know he'll know what you wanted to say.

And he does.

It's the end of another long workday, the only redeeming part of it is when your boyfriend texted you letting you know he'll come and pick you up. Though for Seungcheol it's the norm, he just likes updating you.

He barely has time to react before you're already right in front of him, practically bouncing on your feet. His eyes widen slightly at your enthusiasm, and then—he smirks.

"What’s with the happy energy?" he teases, arms already opening for you.

You don’t even answer, just throw your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. "I just missed you," you mumble against his shoulder.

He chuckles, wrapping his arms securely around your waist. "Yeah?" he murmurs, voice warm. "That much?"

You nod, still clinging to him. "Mhm. And my day was annoying, so fix it."

He huffs a small laugh and pulls back slightly to look at you. "Fix it, huh? And how am I supposed to do that?"

You dramatically sigh. "I don’t know. Be my boyfriend or something."

Seungcheol grins, tilting his head. "Oh? Thought I already was."

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile. "You are. I’m just reminding you."

He chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before opening the car door for you. "Well then, let me take my girlfriend home."

You pretend to think. "Hmm… ice cream first?"

His eyes narrow playfully. "So that’s why you missed me." He laughs, shaking his head, before pulling you into another hug. "Alright, ice cream first. Then home."

Seungcheol glances at you from the driver’s seat, watching as you hum along to the song playing on the radio, fingers drumming idly against your thigh. There’s something light about you now, something warm and unguarded.

He never thought he’d get to see you like this. Not after how hard you pushed him away in the beginning. But now, here you are—grinning at him like he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

"What?" you ask, catching his stare.

He shakes his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing. Just… I like seeing you like this."

You blink. "Like what?"

"Happy," he says simply.

Your smile falters just a little, eyes searching his like you’re trying to understand him. You still have those moments, where doubt creeps in, where you hesitate—but they’re fewer now. And even when they do come, Seungcheol just holds on tighter.

"I am happy," you finally say, quieter now.

His hand reaches for yours, fingers intertwining effortlessly. "Good."

For a while, neither of you say anything. You just hold his hand, tracing little shapes against his skin absentmindedly. He doesn’t miss the way you squeeze his fingers, like you’re reassuring yourself that he’s really there.

It hits him all at once—how much he loves you.

How every part of you, even the difficult parts, even the stubborn parts, only makes him love you more. 

That night, you’re at his place again, curled up on the couch with him. The TV is on, but neither of you are really watching. You’re leaning against his side, playing with his fingers, and Seungcheol just watches you—completely, utterly taken by you.

"You’re staring again," you mumble without looking up.

"Told you, can’t help it," he says, voice warm with amusement. You roll your eyes but don’t pull away. Instead, you let out a little sigh and shift closer, practically molding yourself against him.

"Comfy?" he teases.

You nod against his chest. "Mhm. You’re warm."

Seungcheol chuckles, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close. These are the moments he treasures the most—the quiet ones, when you let yourself just be with him without hesitation.

"You’re staying over, right?" he asks after a while.

You hum, considering it. "Do you want me to?"

He scoffs. "Obviously."

A small smile tugs at your lips. "Okay."

Seungcheol grins, satisfied. But then you shift again, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him with that thoughtful expression he knows too well.

"What?" he asks.

You hesitate, like you’re deciding whether or not to say what’s on your mind. But then, after a beat, you ask, "What did you think of me when we first met?"

Seungcheol raises a brow. "You mean when you walked up to me all confident like you owned the place?"

You groan, burying your face in his shirt. "Forget it."

He laughs, pulling you even closer. "No, no. I liked it. I thought you were interesting. A little reckless, but definitely interesting."

You peek up at him. "And now?"

Seungcheol’s gaze softens, thumb brushing gently over your cheek. "Now I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me."

You stare at him for a moment, and Seungcheol swears he sees a million thoughts flicker across your face. But in the end, you don’t say anything—you just smile, a little shy, and nuzzle back into his chest.

He holds you tighter, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Yeah, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

It happens so naturally that neither of you realize it at first.

It’s a lazy weekend morning, the kind where neither of you are in a rush to do anything. You spent the night at his place again, and now you’re curled up under the covers, half-awake, watching Seungcheol pull on a hoodie as he gets ready to leave for the gym.

"I’ll be back soon," he says, fixing his hair in the mirror

You nod sleepily, your voice still thick with drowsiness. "Okay. Bye, I love you."

Seungcheol freezes.

You don’t even notice—you just turn over, snuggling deeper into the blankets, eyes already fluttering shut again.

It takes him a full five seconds to process what just happened.

You said it. I love you. Just like that, so effortlessly, so naturally, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

His heart is pounding.

Does he wake you up? Does he say it back right now? Should he pretend he didn’t hear it and bring it up later? What is he supposed to do with this information?

Seungcheol lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair. He glances back at you—you’re already asleep again, completely unaware of the internal crisis you just threw him into.

With a small, almost incredulous smile, he leans down, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead.

"I love you too," he murmurs, even though you’re not awake to hear it.

And with that, he leaves, a stupid grin on his face the entire way to the gym.

Later when he comes back from his workout, he's practically bouncing on his feet. Seungcheol walks through the door with an energy that’s almost suspicious. He’s humming—actually humming—as he tosses his gym bag aside and heads straight for the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

You, curled up on the couch with your phone, raise an eyebrow at him. "Why are you so jolly?"

He grins, twisting the cap off his water bottle. "Can’t a guy just be in a good mood?"

"No, not you. You, specifically, are annoyingly smug right now," you counter, narrowing your eyes. "What happened at the gym? Did you beat Joshua at something?"

Seungcheol lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. "No, nothing like that." He takes a sip of water, still smiling

You watch him for a second, suspicious. "You're acting weird."

"Am I?" he teases, walking over to you. Before you can protest, he flops onto the couch beside you, pulling you into his arms with ease. "Maybe I’m just happy to see my girlfriend."

You squint at him. "Okay, now I know something’s up."

Seungcheol just chuckles, squeezing you tighter as he buries his face into your shoulder. "You’re overthinking, baby."

You poke his cheek, trying to get a read on him. He’s still grinning, a little too happy, but whatever it is, he’s clearly not going to tell you. You sigh, deciding to drop it—for now.

Instead, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He kisses the top of your head, and even though you don’t know why he’s in such a ridiculously good mood, you find yourself smiling anyway.

Seungcheol holds you close, his chin resting lightly atop your head. His voice is quieter now, softer, just for you. "I love you."

It’s not the first time he’s said it, and he never expects you to say it back—not until you’re ready.

But today, it feels different.

Today, he heard it from you first, even if you didn’t realize it. You shift slightly in his arms, letting out a sleepy hum, but you don’t react beyond that. You’re still completely unaware of what you said before he left earlier.

Seungcheol doesn’t mind, though. The words are still lingering in his chest, making everything feel a little bit lighter, a little bit warmer. He tightens his hold on you, just a little. He’ll wait until you’re fully aware of it, until you choose to say it again—because he knows you will.

For now, though, he just lets himself enjoy the moment.

What he doesn’t know is that you've been thinking about it too.

You didn’t realize how much space the thought was taking up in your head until recently. how much you wanted to say it, how much it sat at the tip of your tongue every time he smiled at you, every time he pulled you closer without a second thought.

You've always been cautious with your feelings, but with Seungcheol, it feels different. It is different.

"You're thinking too hard," he finally says, pulling you from your thoughts.

You blink, turning to him. "What?"

His eyes crinkle with a teasing grin. "You're staring at the TV, but you haven’t reacted to anything in the last twenty minutes. Either you’re really bad at watching dramas, or something’s on your mind."

You open your mouth, then close it again, hesitating. If only you knew that he was fighting the same battle—wondering when you'd say it, waiting to hear it again, completely unaware that it had already slipped past your lips once before.

You exhale, shaking your head. "It’s nothing."

Seungcheol just hums, reaching over to tug you into his side. He doesn’t press, doesn’t push. Neither of you knows that you’re both waiting for the same thing.

You feel the warmth of his palm as he rubs gentle circles on your back. His voice is soft, comforting, steady—just like him.

"You know you can tell me, right?" he murmurs, his eyes searching yours. "Anything. I’ll be here. But take your time."

Your fingers tighten slightly around the fabric of his hoodie. You want to say it. You really do. The words feel heavy on your tongue, but there’s still something in you that holds back—maybe fear, maybe habit.

Seungcheol doesn’t push. He never does. He just stays close, waiting, patient as ever.

You nod, resting your forehead against his shoulder. "I know."

And he just smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Good."

Little does he know, the next time you say it, you’ll be wide awake and it happened in the middle of a completely ridiculous argument.

“You’re doing it wrong,” you insist, arms crossed as you watch him attempt to assemble the shelf you bought.

He scoffs, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’m doing it wrong? I literally followed the instructions!”

“You’re not supposed to tighten that part first! It’s going to make the other side uneven.”

“That makes no sense.” He stares at you, completely baffled. “How does that even—?”

“Cheol, baby, I love you, but you’re being so stubborn right now.”

Silence.

Your own words register a second too late, and your eyes widen in horror. Seungcheol, on the other hand, freezes mid-motion, screwdriver in hand, looking at you like you just knocked the wind out of him.

You both just… stare at each other.

Then he slowly puts the screwdriver down, standing up to his full height, taking a step toward you. “What did you just say?”

You immediately backtrack. “I said you’re stubborn—”

“No, no, before that.” His lips are curving into a slow smile now, eyes practically glowing with amusement.

Your face burns. “I—nothing, it’s nothing—”

He traps you against the counter in a second, hands braced on either side of you. “Say it again.”

Your heart is pounding. “Cheol—”

“Sweetheart—” he drawls, voice teasing.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “I hate you.”

He chuckles, effortlessly prying your hands away. “That’s not what you said.”

“I am never speaking again.”

His grin softens as he leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Too bad, ‘cause I love hearing you say it.”

And just like that, he kisses you, completely ruining your ability to argue back. Seungcheol pulls back just enough to look at you, his lips still curved into that teasing grin. “Say it again.”

You groan, trying to push him away, but he doesn’t budge. “Cheol—”

“Come on, just once more.” His voice is soft, coaxing, as if he’s trying to savor the moment.

You purse your lips, pretending to think. “Hmm. No.”

His grip on your waist tightens as he buries his face against your shoulder, groaning dramatically. “Baby, please.”

You laugh at how genuinely desperate he sounds. “I already said it once—”

“You accidentally said it. I need to hear it properly.” He pulls back again, looking at you with those warm brown eyes, filled with so much adoration it makes your stomach flip. “Please?”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back your smile, but it’s impossible. “I love you,” you finally mumble, cheeks warm. A full-blown grin takes over his face, and before you can react, he lifts you off the ground, spinning you around. 

“I knew it! I knew you loved me!”

You yelp, holding onto him for dear life. “Cheol—put me down!”

“Never,” he declares dramatically, but he does set you back on your feet only to pepper your face with kisses, making you giggle.

He pulls back just slightly, his hands cradling your face. “Say it one more time?”

You roll your eyes, but the way he’s looking at you makes your heart melt. So you cup his face in return, smiling softly as you whisper, “I love you, Seungcheol.”

He kisses you like he’s been waiting forever to hear that. And honestly, you think you could get used to this.

You never thought you’d be here. Wrapped up in Seungcheol’s arms on a lazy Sunday morning, his even breathing against your hair, your legs tangled together like there wasn’t a time you used to push him away.

It still amazes you sometimes. How this happened. How he happened.

Seungcheol shifts, arms tightening around you as he mumbles something incoherent. He’s warm, comfortable, and you let yourself sink into him for a little longer before peeking up at his face.

“Hmm?”

“I said,” he repeats, voice raspy from sleep, “you should get up and make breakfast today.”

You snort. “No thanks.”

He groans dramatically. “You’re lucky I love you.”

That makes you pause, thinking back to how long it took you to get here—to be able to hear those words and not flinch, to not shut him out at the first sign of something real.

When you first met him, you were all sharp edges and walls built so high even you weren’t sure how to break them down. You’d walked into his life all confidence and bravado, pretending like you could handle him, only to realize you’d bitten off more than you could chew.

And still, he stayed.

Through every time you tried to push him away, through every moment of doubt, through every scar you never wanted to talk about—he stayed. He waited.

“You okay?” he murmurs now, pulling back to look at you. His eyes are soft, filled with something so deep it makes your chest ache.

You nod, smiling a little. “Yeah.”

“Hmm.” His gaze lingers like he knows you’re thinking about something, but he doesn’t push. He never does. He just looks at you with love you thought you'll never feel again, arms feeling like a home you thought you'd never find.

So, naturally, you decide to ruin the moment.

“Though, if we’re talking about luck,” you muse, dragging a finger down his chest, “you are the lucky one here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yes.” You hum, barely biting back a grin. “Because who else would deal with your ridiculous gym obsession, your clinginess, and—oh! The way you steal the blankets every night?”

Seungcheol gasps, scandalized. “I steal the blankets?”

“Yes.”

“Baby, you are the thief here. I wake up freezing at least twice a week because you bundle yourself up like a burrito—”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

He huffs before suddenly rolling over, pinning you beneath him. “You’re lucky I’m patient.”

You grin up at him. “You’re lucky I let you love me.”

"Baby, give credit where it's due. I worked hard to be here" he jokingly says, cuddling you even more. And he really did, he is exactly the man he said he is. He didn't leave, he stayed when it mattered. He never let you go when you wanted to disappear.

To him, you will always be worth all that wait. It wasn't luck. It was him being sure of you from that very first night. It was luck when you saw him that night at the bar.

But the rest, that's all him and you. It's hardwork but with the person, with you, it's easy.

And that’s why, despite all the teasing and the banter, you lift a hand to cup his cheek and whisper, “Thank you for waiting for me.”

That makes something flicker in his eyes, something real and tender, because you both know how hard it was for you to accept love—to accept him.

His face softens, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Always.”

And really, this is how life with Seungcheol is—full of laughter, playful teasing, and more love than you ever thought possible. You never expected to let someone in so completely, but here he is, and you wouldn’t change a thing.

[starchbean]

The reason I'm diving so headlong into the SVSSS fandom when I also love TGCF (I haven't yet read MDZS) but haven't delved NEARLY as deep into the fandom is thus:

Fanfic for TGCF... well, it FEELS like fanfic. That isn't bad. I LOVE fanfic. But the story of TGCF is self-contained. The /real/ Xie Lian and Hua Cheng etc are them as portrayed by MXTX. They had the trials they will have, and now these poor old men get to rest in each others' arms, which is beautiful.

AND ACROSS THE ROOM

Scum Villain fic does NOT feel like fanfic, because IT IS REAL! It happened! It ALL happened! Thanks to the Bing-ge extra, the persistent existence of multiverse and multiple instances of Binghes and Shens etc is evidence that there is definitely more out there the original MXTX story doesn't touch on. And the best part is, it doesn't matter how wacky it is, it's STILL REAL!

Terminally ill Shen Yuan finds his way to a catgirl cafe where femboy catboy transmigrator Binghe is trying to work his way out of poverty? Mobei Jun kidnaps Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky and forces him to rewrite PIDW so that HE becomes the demon emperor because Binghe is real fuckin unstable and it's a headache--and every written change alters their world immediately after Airplane writes it? It's out there somewhere in the multiverse, surely!

And of COURSE they'd act slightly differently between iterations, BE slightly different--it's not OOC, it's multidimensional variation. No matter how hard you meme, it doesn't feel fake at all, and that's INCREDIBLE! It lends itself to being a superfandom!

I'M COMPLETELY NORMAL ABOUT THIS! ABSOLUTELY HINGED! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!

[urf4vsc0rpio]

A Dollmaker's Desire

G!p Donna Beneviento x Fem Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: NSFW, G!p pathetic girlfailure yet somewhat feral Donna, slight overstimulation ig ? SHE CAME IN HER BOXERS !?!? Eating out, face sitting, gulp...cum consumption, #needthat

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: -

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: the way @/thisgirlnamedblusy writes Donna has altered my mind forever chat...also, I can't be serious while writing smut I fear 🙏 (Had to step away from this too many times while writing the last few paragraphs, mb abt the few jokes I made y'all, I had to)

"Sei così bella, bambolina mia" The dollmaker murmured, her voice a hushed whisper as she ran her fingers through your soft locks, half lidded eyes watching as you kissed down her body, worshipping every inch of her like the goddess she is, strings of compliments leaving your lips as you bathed her in your love.

She sucked in a sharp breath when your hand teasingly grazed the bulge in her boxers, her hips instinctively bucking as if she needed more of your touch. "Cara mia..." She whimpered softly, trying her best to keep her eyes open so she could watch the perfect view of her lover placing small butterfly kisses on her belly pudge that you so dearly cherished, claiming that it's cute. She never really liked it, she never really liked her body...but with the way you viewed her with such love in your eyes, the compliments, the way you touched her so gently and never once gave her a disgusted look...it made her feel more confident about her body...because you loved it. You loved her.

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of her boxers to pull it down but your movements were quickly halted by Donna's shaky hands. You looked up with a raised eyebrow, wondering if you had done something wrong to make her uncomfortable. "What's wrong, love?" You questioned, concern evident in your eyes which was soon reassured by Donna shaking her head "N-no..there's nothing wrong..." She trailed off, shy with what she was about to say "Then?" You said, urging her on to continue.

"I wanna...I wanna eat you out..." She mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper and no matter how hard you strained your ears to hear what she had said, you only managed to catch the first part. "Pardon? Could you repeat that?" You requested, a small smile grazing your lips when you saw how Donna got shy and looked away, biting down on her bottom lip before she hesitantly repeated herself "Y-you always pleasure me..so I wanna do the same...I wanna..eat you out...." She murmured, embarrassed in herself when she heard what she had said.

You went silent, your blush deepening as you processed her words. "Tesoro..? C-can I? Please...?" She begged quietly as she looked back at you, noticing how you went silent. Shame washed over her and she wished she could take back her words, wishing that the ground would just swallow her whole. "Cazzo, non avrei dovuto dirlo..." She mumbled to herself with a sigh "I-if that makes you uncomfortable t-then it's fine-" She tried to reassure you but was cut off "No, I want it. I want you, Donna."

She gulped, feeling her throat go dry with what you had said, the way you maintained eye contact, your eyes clouded with lust and desire as you looked at her with such hunger. She would be lying if she said it didn't make her dick twitch in her boxers, begging to be set free. She felt another wave of shame wash over her when she heard your chuckle, it seemed that you had noticed it too. "S-sorry..." She mumbled "Don't be" You reassured.

"C-could you...sit on my face...?" She requested meekly and you nearly had to walk out of the bedroom to scream because of how cute she looked, why was she so polite with it!?!?

You took a deep breath to calm yourself before nodding, slipping off your panties with ease...and maybe too hastily because you definitely needed that. Your bottom lip was caught between your lips as you moved to hover over her face, heavy breaths leaving from between your lips. A shiver ran up your spine as you felt her cold hands find purchase on your hips, nails digging into the skin as if to stake her claim on you as she brought you down to her face, her tongue darting down to lick slowly from your hole and up to your clit, dragging out a low moan from you.

You gripped onto the headboard in an attempt to steady yourself while your free hand tangled itself into your lover's hair, tugging softly at the locks, urging her on to continue her ministrations. "Gods...Donna..." You gasped out, tilting your head back as you legs trembled beside her head.

She moaned against your cunt, sending delicious vibrations to your clit that made your hips buck and your grip on your hair to tighten. Her tongue moved so perfectly against you and it nearly made you collapse onto her, your legs struggling to keep yourself up and to not put your entire weight on her face. She looked up at you through half lidded eyes, desperation evident in her eyes as she let out a soft whimper when she noticed how you weren't putting your whole weight on her.

Her nails dug harder into your hips before roughly pulling you down on her face, causing your legs to give out and forcing your entire weight onto her, it made you yelp but Donna on the other hand moaned with delight, her nose buried in your bush, taking in your scent as it occasionally nudged against your clit while her efforts doubled.

The dollmaker lapped at your wetness like a starved beast, eating you out vigorously, her tongue moving fervently and forcing out moans after moans from your parted lips as you threw your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your body shaking and squirming above her, your back arched and pushing your breasts out deliciously for her, what a view. Strings of her name leaving your lips like a prayer while your hips moved against your will, grinding onto her tongue, your clit constantly brushing against her nose and sending shots of pleasure through you.

"Taste so good" She murmured against your cunt, her words slightly muffled before she went back to eating you out with such hunger, it had you crying out her name from the top of her lungs. "J-just like that-!" You choked out another moan when her hand moved from your hips to your clit, perfectly drawing tight circles around your clit and it had you seeing stars, a silent gasp escaping your lips as you struggled to keep quiet with how good she is. Her free hand also moved from your hips to hold onto your breast instead, taking your nipple between her fingers to toy with it, pinching and pulling just how she knew you loved.

She was so desperate for you, she needed you badly and her dick was painfully hard in her boxers, twitching against the fabric in a way that made her whimper with how the fabric of her boxers rubbed so nicely against her tip whenever she moved or bucked into nothing. It was too much, everything was too much. Your taste, your voice, the way you moved, how you moaned her name over and over again like a broken record player, the sensation of her member being stimulated every time she moved, she couldn't handle it at all. She was close to breaking and she knew that you were too. Just needed a little push that's all.

"M-more more more p-please...fuck Donna I n-need you so fucking bad, I want you" You struggled to say in between the moans escaping your throat. "Ti amo, Donna..!" You managed to gasp out and that was the only push she needed. Her body tensed up as she whimpered against your cunt, her eyes rolling back while her nails dug into your breast, forcing out a whine from you. "G-gonna cum-" You cut yourself off with a loud moan of her name as your hips bucked onto her tongue repeatedly, reaching your high as you squirted on her tongue, drenching her face with your own climax.

Her own hips bucked against her boxers, her dick twitching desperately before ropes after ropes of cum came shooting out of her tip, painting the insides of her boxers white while she lapped up your juices with hunger like you've never seen before, moaning at your taste as more of her semen painted the fabric of her boxers.

You struggled for a moment before finally managing to get back on your knees... shakily that is, sitting yourself down on her chest but making sure not to put your entire weight on her. "Gods..." You sighed, your hands planting on her hips to lean back and steady yourself. You were just about to continue talking but you went silent when your fingers grazed against a wet spot on her boxers. Donna shuddered slightly at your touch, watching as you looked over her shoulder then back at her with a raised eyebrow and a shit eating grin, somebody kill her already.

"Did you just cum in your boxers?" Somebody put her out of her misery, put a gun against her head for crying out loud. She looked away with embarrassment before nodding slightly. "Sorry, tesoro...I didn't mean to" She murmured and you nearly cooed at her with how cute she is whenever she gets embarrassed.

"Don't be" You reassured her once again before moving down her chest, sitting yourself in between her legs as your tongue darted out from between your lips to lick at her boxers, from the base of the outline of her dick and up to her tip, humming softly at the taste of her. "T-tesoro d-don't.." She gasped out in sensitivity, her hips bucking helplessly as she watched you pull down her boxers. A chuckle left your lips at the sight "What a mess" you teased before going back to cleaning up the mess she made, taking her semi hard dick in your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip and licking up her semen.

The dollmaker on the other hand struggled to keep herself from squirming, whimpers leaving her lips as she attempted to push your head away, she was sensitive, too sensitive. "C-can't- Cazzo, amore mio, è troppo" she pleaded shakily. You looked up at her from between your lashes before finally pulling away after giving one last lick, finally giving her a break.

"Ti amo" You purred "Ti amo anch'io, mi dolcezza" Donna murmured in between laboured breaths, watching as you moved up her body to plant a quick kiss on her lips, whimpering softly at the feeling of the softness of your own lips. "You're so beautiful" You said before moving to settle beside her, your head on her chest to listen to the beat of her heart, free hand on her breast because honestly, she's insanely cold and you loved it.

------------------

Angie was sat in the living room, her knees pulled up to her chest as she rocked herself back and forth on the couch, covering her ears "I'm deaf I'm deaf I'm deaf, somebody kill me" she repeated to herself over and over again.

"I think we were too loud, tesoro..." Donna mumbled, peeking at the doll from the kitchen.