#sorry shes too rich and traumatized NOT to be

[thebeastofblackmoor]

clara thornton was probably like RIDICULOUSLY sexy when she was in her 20s

source: trust me

[mylonelylife135]

Little Girl

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The sound of pacing footsteps echoed in the batcave, echoing around the cave walls with the occasional water droplets dripping and the soft chirps of bats as they awoke from their slumber.

It was surreal. So surreal.

Barbara could hardly believe it, she was in THE Batman's secret lair! the mysterious vigilante that had been foiling the villains plans and bringing the criminals of gotham to justice for over six years now!

Of course he had to have a secret lair, a base of operations that he worked in. He had gadgets and always seemed to find out the Joker's plans after all so he had to have one-

"Ah, you're overthinking again." Barbara patted her cheeks with gloved hands, inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly.

It was still crazy to think that wearing a silly bat costume and accidentally stopping a couple of crimes inevitably made her cross paths with Batman and Robin.

He seemed a bit younger than herself, and she was in college!

It had taken an entire year, but now after taking an oath at the very graves of Batman's- no, Bruce's parents she was now officially a part of Batman and Robin group, like the three musketeers! It was exhilarating, it was nerve-racking, it was so-

"Who are you?" a soft voice asked, interrupting Barbara's chain of thoughts as her stomach dropped.

Whipping around towards the sound of the voice, Barbara raised a batarang towards the intruder-

Barbara's eyes stared down in disbelief, a little girl that couldn't be older than five or six staring up at her with dilated pupils, both arms raised towards her face to presumably protect her face.

"O-Oh my gosh I'm so sorry I thought you were an intruder-" Barbara rambled quickly, voice high pitched in panic as she quickly put the batarang back in her belt.

She could feel her chest swell with guilt, she almost just threw a batarang at a little girl's head. She probably just traumatized the poor little girl- She could've KILLED a child- She didn't expect a kid in purple pajamas to be in the batcave of all things.

How did she even manage to sneak up on her?

Why didn't Bruce or Dick tell her about the little girl? Alfred did say he was going to check up on someone but she didn't think it was a kid.

What was she even doing down here? She seemed too young to be a Robin, there wasn't even a second Robin. She definitely wasn't making gadgets or doing behind the scenes work in the Batcave.

How did she even get down here in the first place? she seemed too short to even get to the secret entrances!

Barbara watched as she slowly lowered her arms, her big eyes staring up at her.

"A-Are you okay? I didn't mean to scare you like that." Barbara said in a softer tone, realizing that she had been staring at the kid for longer than necessary.

"I'm okay, sorry that I scared you. My name is (____). You're batgirl, right? I've seen you in newspapers." Barbara almost raised an eyebrow as the little girl now known as (____) spoke with a timid voice. Kids didn't usually speak so perfectly, did they? Maybe it was a rich people thing and formal education.

"Y-Yeah, I am." Barbara kneeled down, offering a hand to the child in front of her and managing a soft smile despite her unease and guilt still lingering.

Maybe it was still just the fear from what just happened, but Barbara couldn't help but wonder...

Did (____)'s eyes always look like that?

NEW CHARACTER UNLOCKED: Barbara Gordon

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A/N: A mini chapter, from the FUTUREEEEEEE! SOOOO Chapter 5 should hopefully be good by tmr unless tumblr or life decides to keep fucking me over more than it already has. Chapter 5 isn't going to be as long because shit keeps happening in life that was making progress so slow that I decided to basically make a mini chapter first to compensate for if chapter 5 ends up feeling too short.

[shadowkoo]

Up In Flames - Part 1

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

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

↠ seungcheol x f.reader | Part 1 = 18.9k (42.7k words total, i’m so sorry but also not really 🗿) | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, action, slow burn, firefighter au, author au, damsel in distress au, ‘let me help you’ wildland firefighter!cheol x ‘i can do it myself’ miss independent yet clumsy!reader

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

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @lapydiariesnet @keopihausnet

@svthub @thediamondlifenetwork

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

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

→ READ PART 2 ⟡⋆⟡ SERIES MLIST ←

“No, no, no! Oh c’mon! This can’t be happening right now,” you whine, twisting your body so you can see the damage done after hearing the dreadful sound of fabric tearing.

Yep, your pants just ripped. Want to know what’s even worse? Your pink hello kitty underwear is showing right through the large tear on your left butt cheek.

You curse under your breath and pull your shirt down, trying to cover up as much as you can. This would have never happened if you just said no to your best friend and older sister, Kate.

See, Kate is in a very committed, loving relationship, and has been for the past four years. Unlike you, who has been on at least fifty horrible first dates, sometimes even second dates that never seem to go anywhere, in that same time frame.

She set you up with this supposedly amazingly hot, ultra-rich, single and ‘ready to commit’ guy she knew through a friend of a friend, blah blah blah. You should have known then how tonight was going to go. Of all the blind dates you had been on, this one easily became the worst.

It started alright, with a cute Pho restaurant in the middle of downtown being the meeting place. Seojoon waited outside for you with an umbrella since it had started to sprinkle, and even held open the door and helped you in your seat once inside.

But his good manners stopped there. For the rest of the night, he was extremely rude to the wait staff and condescending toward you, making it a miserable experience.

Needless to say, he deserved what you did. After you finally had enough, you not-so-accidentally let a ‘my god, shut the fuck up already’ slip out of your mouth. And yeah, you might have told him he has the emotional intelligence of a toad (and even that was too kind compared to what you really wanted to say).

Quickly after, you excused yourself and were more than ready to leave. But then you saw them. The perfect couple seated in the front half of the restaurant; your ex and the woman he left you for.

Which is why you ended up hiding in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, before deciding that escaping through the small window would be the best option. You used the toilet at leverage to boost yourself up (that was the easy part), gripped onto a nearby tree branch to pull yourself out the window, and then jumped out. It was during the ‘jumping out’ part when your pants got stuck on the branch and proceeded to rip.

The plan wasn’t perfect but it got you out of there, with ripped pants, but what the hell. At least you’re on your way to your car now, rather than being stuck in there with the three most odious people you have ever suffered through knowing.

You make it maybe three blocks before giving up on trying to cover your ass. Whatever, you’re almost back to your car now anyway.

“Oh, what now?” you sigh, digging through your purse for your phone that’s ringing somewhere in there. Your sister’s face lights up the screen; she’s probably calling to see how your date went.

“I hate you,” you grumble while unlocking your car, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“What? Why?” Kate questions, “I was calling for a favor. I didn’t even get to that, so you can’t hate me yet.”

“Tonight was my date with Seojoon and it ended with me climbing out the bathroom window.”

“Oh, Seojoon is so old news. Actually, I should have set you up with–”

“No, I’m stopping you right there,” you say, interrupting her. “I’m not going on any more blind dates with terrible men that you barely know.”

“But–”

“No.”

Kate sighs on the other line, “Okay, fine. I’ll drop it for now. Can we jump to what I was calling about?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Jun’s father had a heart attack and we’re on the way to the airport, can you house-sit for the next two weeks?”

You hesitate to answer and she uses the opportunity to persuade you.

“I know it’s a lot to ask but our food is obviously free game, we have the coziest living room for movies, the hot tub just had its routine maintenance, and I’ll even let you bring Mika. Please, please, please!”

Mika is your sweet but sassy husky, and Kate usually can't stand all that hair. So she must be pretty desperate if she’s letting your energetic furball mess up her peaceful mountain cabin.

“Okay, yeah. I should be able to make that work. Maybe I can finish my next book while I’m up there.”

“Oh thank god!” she celebrates, relieved that you can help out. “You’re the best. I love you so much.”

“You better,” you remark.

“I have to go, so I’ll make it quick. There’s a note on the fridge with some house rules because I know you’d say yes. I’ll text you when we land. Okay, bye! Thank you!” She rushes, quickly hanging up on you before you have the chance to change your mind

It didn’t take very long to grab Mika, some clothes, and the essentials once you had gotten back. In less than half an hour, you had the car packed and ready to go.

You’re now about an hour into the drive up to Kate and Junhui’s mountain home. Your sister’s house-sitting favor couldn’t have come at a better time. You finally feel like you can write again.

A couple of years ago you self-published a fantasy romance book, and out of nowhere, it went viral on BookTok. It’s been nice living off the royalties from its success, but you know your readers want another. The problem is you’ve lacked focus lately; always finding an excuse or something else to do in your free time.

But that’s going to change in the next few days.

"Is that...snow?" you mutter, squinting through the windshield as tiny white flecks swirl down in front of you. It’s basically spring in the city and you haven’t seen snow in weeks, forgetting that the temperature is colder up here. With the high elevation, though, it makes sense.

Mika barks from the passenger seat, her tail thumping excitedly as the flakes fall heavier, dotting the windshield. She presses her nose to the passenger window, eagerly watching the world turn white. Unlike you, she loves the snow and all things cold.

You sigh, imagining yourself on a beach somewhere, basking in the sun, with the hint of frost in nowhere sight. But yet, here you are driving through a surprise snowstorm with a husky who’s living her best life.

You ease up on the gas, knowing that the roads are probably going to get icy soon. Mika’s barks become louder and more frequent.

"No, Mika-Ika-Poo," you say, using one of her many ridiculous nicknames. It's a habit of yours to give everyone, pets and people alike, the most absurd nicknames possible. "You have to be quiet now."

Naturally, your attempt at shushing her only makes things worse. Mika tilts her head, lets out an even louder bark, and then starts whining excitedly as if your words were some sort of encouragement. You can’t help but smile; it’s impossible to keep her quiet, especially when she senses snow.

“You are so sassy today.” You reach an arm over to scratch her neck, she’s just being a dog after all.

Glancing back at the road, you slam on the brakes as you go around the next bend. A truck has crashed into an electricity pole, leaving live power lines strewn across the icy road. But it's too late to stop in time. The road is too slick, and you're already sliding forward.

Your car glides helplessly into the downed lines, tires screeching on the black ice. Before panic can even set in, the front of your vehicle erupts in flames, fire licking up the hood. Smoke quickly surrounds you, blackening the windows until visibility is gone. The stench of burning plastic fills the air, and the heat becomes unbearable. Everything around you vanishes in the thick, choking cloud, leaving you trapped in a suffocating haze.

Shit. Now what?

As Seungcheol drives along the winding road ahead of him, a thin wisp of smoke catches his eye, curling up through the trees ahead. It snakes its way into the sky, growing darker and thicker as he approaches. The distant haze drifts ominously, making his pulse quicken. Something’s definitely wrong up ahead.

He comes to a halt, taking in the scene before him. Twenty-foot flames engulf a car, tangled in the chaos of fragmented power lines, flickering wildly against the night sky. To the left, a pickup truck is smashed against the base of an electric pole, which has split and fallen over.

“Are you good?” he hollers to the truck driver; he’s outside of the vehicle and on the phone with what he assumes is emergency services. The man nods and points back to the car frantically, “Help her! I don’t know how to get her out!”

Seungcheol rushes back to his own vehicle and pulls out a fire extinguisher from his backseat. He chuckles to himself, he knew it would come in handy one day. Call it firefighter’s intuition.

He throws on his spare flame-resistant jacket and heads back towards the fire. If the gas tank leaks, things could go very, very wrong.

He pulls the pin on his fire extinguisher and sprays the car, aiming for the engine which is where he believes the fire began.

“Are you alright in there?” He asks once getting the situation mostly under control.

“No, I am not alright! My car is on fire in case you haven’t noticed?”

“Besides the car, are you hurt?”

“No. I don’t think so? Mika looks okay too.”

“Your baby?” His heart races, stomach bile rising in his throat. Not again.

“My dog.”

Seungcheol calms himself. It’s a dog. It’s just a dog.

“Can I get out? Is my car going to blow up?” the woman asks with a shaky voice.

“Um, that’s a good question. I’m not sure. But I don’t want you to worry. I’m a trained firefighter and we’re going to figure this out, okay?

“What do you mean you aren’t sure? Aren’t you supposed to know what to do in this situation?”

“Not really, I fight fires in the mountains, not usually cars that drive across active lines,” Seungcheol jokes.

“Of course, the universe would send me an incompetent firefighter in this situation.”

Seungcheol huffs, “I’m not incompetent, I was kidding. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Okay, Y/N. I’m Seungcheol. I need a few minutes to think about the safest way to get you out, in the meantime I want you to remain calm.” He hears the faint wail of sirens in the distance. Help is almost here, but he can’t wait. The anxiety is clawing at his neck. He needs to save you. You can’t die too.

The thought of rescuing you from the vehicle feels like a dangerous gamble. One wrong move, and you could step on a live wire and electrocute yourself to death. Seungcheol’s mind races through everything he’s heard about accidents like this: stay in the car, don't touch metal, don’t risk it.

But he also knows that it’s only a matter of minutes until you’re out of safe breathing oxygen in the cabin, and time feels like it’s slipping away. He glances at the ground surrounding your car, finding the safest path for you.

“Okay, I have a plan,” he says, after going over it in his head. “Are you able to crawl to the backseat?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He listens to the sounds of your shuffling, “Okay, I’m in the back with the dog.”

“Good, I’m going to break your driver’s side window. Then I want you to climb back into the front and I’ll help you out.”

“No, I’ll give you my dog first.”

“Alright, the dog goes first. Listen, there’s a chance that when I break the window the airflow and pressure change might cause the fire in your engine to ignite again. I will take care of it, I don’t want you to worry.”

With a surge of adrenaline, he smashes the car window with the end of the fire extinguisher. Shards of glass scatter onto the seat, and the dog whines from the sudden noise.

He leans down and peeks his head inside, his eyes immediately locking with yours. You're huddled in the backseat, arms tightly wrapped around your large dog, seeking comfort. Your light brown hair is tousled, strands falling across your face, but it’s your vibrant green eyes that stand out, even in the dim light. There's a mixture of exhaustion and relief in them.

He gently takes the leashed dog from your arms. "I’ll be right back for you," he promises, stepping cautiously away from the car, avoiding wet spots, and keeping a wary eye on the live wires.

The police are the first to arrive. “Pop your backseat open, I’ll put the dog in there,” he says, and the officer quickly obliges, opening the door for him.

As he turns to head back for you, the fire and rescue team pulls up, jumping into action. He heads toward the firefighters who are assessing the power line situation.

“Look who it is,” a familiar face grins, walking up to hug his old friend.

“Mingyu, it’s good to see you.” Seungcheol hugs him back.

”I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here. Always in the middle of the action. I gotta ask, are you interested in a job? We’ve got an opening if you’re sick of roughing it in the wilderness.”

“You know me well,” he smiles. “I’m on leave right now. Gotta work through some things. You know how it is.”

“Unfortunately, I do,” Mingyu agrees, knowing all too well and definitely knowing better than to ask. “Let’s grab a drink one of these nights while you’re still around.”

“Sure thing, have fun dealing with, well, all of this,” Seungcheol chuckles, motioning at the mess surrounding them.

By the time he heads back toward you, you're already out of the charred vehicle, the rescue team guiding you into the backseat of the cop car.

He watches from a distance, realizing that once again, he didn’t get the chance to keep his promise.

The rescue team moves swiftly, pulling you from the wreckage and checking you over to make sure you aren’t hurt, even though you insist you aren’t.

“Ma’am, I know you say you’re fine, but it’s my job to check.”

“Sorry,” you grumble, “I’ve just had a shit day and I’m worried that Mika is scared.”

“Your dog? Don’t worry, we can head over there right now.” They gather your belongings from the trunk of your sizzling car before guiding you to the safety of the squad car where your dog is already waiting, tail wagging despite the chaos.

Now that you're out of danger, you finally take in the scene around you. It's far worse than anything you could have imagined. The devastation is overwhelming, and the air is still heavy with smoke.

A wave of gratitude washes over you for the stranger who helped calm your nerves when everything seemed to be spiraling out of control. Without his reassurance, you’re not sure how you would’ve kept it together.

You spot him; he’s standing among the firemen, deep in conversation. His tall frame towers over most of them, and the broad set of his shoulders makes his jacket seem almost too small. The sparking power lines cast flickering shadows across his face.

Unlike the others, his jacket has a different department name stitched across his back, making him stand out from the crowd even more. There's something about the way he carries himself all calm and controlled, like he's seen this kind of devastation too many times before, that piques your interest.

Like he senses you looking him over, he glances over toward the patrol car as it pulls away from the accident.

You sink into the seat next to Mika, feeling the warmth of her fur against your side, grateful she’s okay. You’re relieved but still shaken, and with the smell of smoke still clinging to your clothes, are desperate for a nice hot shower to wash off this horrible day.

The officer pulls up to your sister’s house and helps carry your bags to the door. Before leaving, he hands you a copy of the accident report and the business card for the tow company that hauled off your car.

"Take care now," the older man says with a nod, waving from the driver’s seat as he reverses down the driveway.

“Thanks!” you return, Mika also joining in with a quick yap.

Using the spare key your sister gave you years ago, you unlock the door and step inside. Mika bolts down the hallway, likely heading for the living room to claim her favorite nap spot on the couch.

Kate’s house rules will have to wait. Right now, all you care about is scrubbing off the sticky residue of smoke that clings to your skin. Mika, meanwhile, seems unbothered. Her rolling in the snow earlier did wonders for cleaning up her fur. She’s back to her usual gray-and-white self, but you’ll still have to wrangle her into a bath at some point. You don’t have the energy for that battle tonight.

Dragging your bags toward the bedrooms, you drop them on the floor inside the master. You rummage through the top duffel, fishing out an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of pajama pants for after your shower. Clothes in hand, you head for the attached bathroom.

Peeling off your smoky clothes, you turn on the shower and wait for the water to heat up. Steam begins to fill the small space as you step beneath the heavy spray, the warm water washing away the grime and some of the day’s tension.

The face of the stranger from earlier flashes in your mind as you shampoo your long locks. Maybe you should have waited to say goodbye to him, and say thank you, before leaving the scene. You were in too much of a panic state to think about the proper way to handle anything. Hopefully, he understood that.

You’re just about done with rinsing off the remaining bubbles of the divine body wash your sister has in the shower when Mika runs into the bathroom and starts whining.

“I’m almost done, Mika Mouse” you comfort her through the glass wall, thinking her nerves are probably just acting up after today.

She whines again, slinking behind the bathroom door with her tail tucked low.

‘That’s odd’, you think, turning off the water and stepping out. ‘Maybe she doesn’t feel well?’

You wrap yourself in a thick towel, still worried about her behavior when a dull thud echoes from the far end of the house.

Mika peers up at you with wide, nervous eyes, the look clearly saying, ‘Don’t even think about asking me to check that out.’

Rolling your eyes, you mutter, “Of course not. So much for being a big, tough dog, huh?”

You tip-toe carefully toward the noise, the cool air against your damp skin making you shiver. The sound is coming from the kitchen, and Mika creeps along behind you, practically glued to your leg.

“You’re no help, you know that?” you whisper, glancing down at her. “What if I need backup?”

Mika simply stares at you, her blue eyes wide and unblinking, as if to say, ‘You’re on your own, Mom.’

Another louder crash stops you in your tracks. Your pulse quickens as you peek around the corner. There, in front of the open refrigerator, stands a stranger.

Adrenaline floods your body as you grab the nearest weapon (a spatula from the island counter), you let out a war cry and charge.

“Hey! What the—OW! Stop hitting me!” the intruder yells, raising his hands to shield himself.

“Who the hell are you?” you demand, swinging the spatula one last time for good measure.

“Wait! I—Ouch! What is wrong with you?” He twists around, finally revealing his face. And recognition slams into you like a brick wall, it’s the hot firefighter from earlier.

“You!” you hiss, lowering the spatula but not your guard. “Why are you here? Did you follow me here?”

“What? No! I’m staying here!” he snaps, rubbing his arm where you hit him.

“Uh, no you’re not. This is my sister’s house,” you say, crossing your arms. The movement makes you suddenly, painfully aware of how little you’re wearing.

He blinks at you, then gestures vaguely between you and the kitchen. “You’re Kate’s sister?”

“How do you know Kate?” you demand. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Seungcheol. I’m one of Jun’s friends,” he explains, looking somewhat flustered. “He told me I could crash here for a few days. Kate agreed and said it was fine.”

You frown, your brain scrambling to make sense of this. “Well, nobody told me.”

“I thought they were here. I figured... maybe they were in the shower,” he says, his eyes flicking to your dripping hair. “But I guess that was you. Where are they?”

“They’re out of town,” you mutter, pulling the towel tighter around yourself. “And clearly, no one thought to clue me in on their little hospitality arrangements.”

“I just spoke with Jun yesterday. He didn’t say anything about being out of town,” Seungcheol says, his brows furrowed.

“Well...it was sort of last minute,” you reply, hesitating. You’re unsure how much you should share, but curiosity about his reaction nudges you to continue. “His dad had a heart attack. They asked me to house-sit while they went to be with him.”

Seungcheol’s face shifts from confusion to alarm, genuine concern washing over his features. “Oh my god, Mr. Wen had a heart attack? Is he okay?” His eyes search yours, desperate for answers.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I haven’t heard any updates yet. I was hoping Kate would call once they got there.”

He nods slowly, processing the news, then looks back at you.

“So...how do you know Junhui?” You cross your arms, still skeptical.

“We grew up together and are still good friends,” he says simply, holding your gaze.

You narrow your eyes, trying to read him. He seems genuine, but the whole situation still feels a little too coincidental.

“Look,” he says, sensing your doubt, “I can prove it. I’ve got old photos of us on my phone. Or, better yet, check the living room. I’m pretty sure there’s a framed photo of us from a beach trip we took a few years ago. It was on the mantle the last time I visited.”

You pause, weighing his words. There’s something about his tone that makes you think he might actually be telling the truth. Still, you’re not ready to let your guard down just yet.

“Fine,” you say. “But if I find out you’re lying, I’m coming back with something worse than a spatula.”

“If you’re anything like Kate, I wouldn’t doubt it,” Seungcheol says with a chuckle, now leaning up against the kitchen island.

You shoot him a look before walking over to the fireplace, where Kate displays all her smaller framed photos. It doesn’t take long to spot the beach photo he mentioned, and sure enough, a younger Seungcheol is standing next to Jun, both grinning under the sun. He looks leaner in the picture, less muscular than the version currently smirking from the kitchen.

“Well?” he calls from the island, his tone teasing. “Did I pass the test?”

You place the photo back on the mantel and turn to face his direction. “Don’t move. I need to get dressed and call Kate.”

“Not going anywhere,” he replies with a shrug, clearly amused by the whole ordeal.

You hurry back to the bedroom, finding Mika burrowed under the covers on the bed, probably retreating there after your spatula ambush.

“Coward,” you huff, stepping over your bags. Reaching the clothes you set out earlier, you quickly throw them on, silently cursing yourself for choosing the frumpiest option. But how would you have known you’d need to look cute and presentable for... company? Comfort had been the only thing on your mind.

Grabbing the towel draped over the vanity, you cover the base of your skull and twist your damp hair into a quick headwrap. Fixing your hair can wait, sorting out this unexpected houseguest with Kate takes priority.

Muttering a string of curses under your breath, you march over to your bags and rummage through them until you find your purse. Digging inside, you finally fish out your phone, silently pleading with the universe that your sister will pick up.

This was the last situation Seungcheol had expected to find himself in tonight. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, staying rooted to the spot as promised. It’s not hard to keep his word, he figures moving any closer might make things worse.

He gets why you’re being cautious. Honestly, he’s glad you are. Still, it bothers him a little that you don’t feel entirely safe around him. He’d even stepped away from the fridge, putting himself by the island within your line of sight, hoping it might ease your discomfort. Given the circumstances, though, your reaction is understandable.

The sound of soft footsteps echoes down the hallway, announcing your return before he even sees you. When you step into view, his breath catches. You look ridiculously cute with your hair twisted up in that towel, even if you’re frowning. Not that he’d admit it, but he preferred the towel’s previous location—wrapped around your damp, glistening body.

Damn it, ‘Cheol. Not the time.

“I can’t get ahold of Kate or Jun,” you say with a frustrated sigh. “They must still be on their flight.”

Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate to slip into problem-solving mode like it’s second nature. Anything to erase that frown from your face. “If it helps, I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. It’s far from the bedrooms, and you can barricade your door if that makes you feel better. I swear, I’m not a threat.”

“How do I know that I can trust you?” you ask, your voice laced with doubt.

Without missing a beat, he responds, “Would you like to talk to my mom?”

“What?” you blink, your expression equal parts skeptical and confused.

“I’ll call my mom,” he says, already pulling his phone from his pocket. “She can vouch for me. Would that make you feel better?”

You tilt your head, clearly debating it. Before you can respond, he’s already tapping the screen a couple of times before holding the phone out to you.

“It’s ringing.”

“Hello? Cheolie, dear?” a warm, motherly voice answers.

“Um, hi,” you say awkwardly, lifting the phone to your ear.

“Oh, hello! Is my son there?”

“I’m here, Mom,” Seungcheol calls out, loud enough for her to hear. “Y/N has a question for you.”

“Alright, dear,” she replies, her tone curious. “What’s the question?”

You glance at him, then back to the phone. “I’d like to know if Seungcheol is...honest and trustworthy,” you say, your eyes narrowing slightly as you study his face.

“Oh, well, that’s an easy one!” his mom chirps. “My Cheolie is a sweetheart! Did you know he’s a firefighter? Some might even call him a hero. He’s one of the most honest and trustworthy people you’ll ever meet.”

“Right,” you murmur, trying not to smile. “So, you’d say it’s safe to sleep under the same roof with him?”

“Well,” she chuckles softly, “that depends on whether he remembers his manners. But I’d bet good money my son has plenty of self-restraint—”

“Okay, Mom, that’s enough. Thanks!” Seungcheol interjects quickly, his ears burning. “I’ll call you later. Love you, bye!” Ending the call, he looks up to find you grinning.

“Cheolie?” you tease, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

“Don’t call me that. Ever,” he warns, though the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “So... what’s the verdict?”

You give him another once-over, still weighing your options. “You can sleep in the guest bedroom. I’ll take the primary. Most of my stuff is already in there anyway.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind the couch,” he offers sincerely.

“It’s fine,” you reply with a wave of your hand. “You did save me earlier, after all. I’m not going to kick you out in the middle of the night when it’s storming. We’ll sort everything out tomorrow when it’s not so late.”

��Thanks,” he says, relief evident in his voice. “I’m glad you’re okay, by the way. Did the rescue team check your throat for smoke inhalation? And what about your dog? Wait—where is your dog?” His head swivels as he realizes he hasn’t seen Mika.

“She’s hiding in the bedroom, like the coward she is,” you say with a huff. “And yeah, we both got checked out. The worst of it was my car... and my clothes.” You glance at the clock on the wall. “Anyway, I’m heading to bed. Do you need anything?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m good. I know my way around. I’ll grab some water and call it a night too.”

“Alright. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You disappear down the hall, leaving him standing in the kitchen, feeling oddly better than he had all day.

Seungcheol’s hand trails across your jaw, his tough is light yet as his eyes sear into yours. His fingers trace the delicate curve of your face before slipping into the hair behind your ear, his grip gentle but possessive as he leans in.

His lips brush against yours, warm and inviting, sending a shiver down your spine. The kiss is tantalizing and slow, yet perfectly in sync, drawing a soft sigh from your lips as you melt into him.

And then—buzz.

Wait. Are his lips...vibrating?

A second buzz jolts you further from the haze of your dream, and before you can process it, another vibration tickles your cheek. Your eyes flutter open, reality crashing in as you realize your phone is pressed between your face and the pillow. You must have dozed off without setting it on the nightstand.

Blinking heavily, you grab the device, squinting at the screen. It’s your sister.

You swipe to answer, your voice thick with sleep. “Hello?”

“Shoot, were you sleeping? I’m sorry,” Kate says, already sounding guilty.

“For waking me up or for forgetting to mention the house guest you invited to stay here?”

“Oh my god.” A beat of silence, and then she groans. “Y/N, I am so sorry. Everything happened so fast with Jun’s dad, and it completely slipped my mind that Seungcheol was coming to visit. Is he there now?”

“Yeah. And I might have whacked him a few times thinking he was breaking into the house.”

Your sister snickers on the other end, clearly picturing it. “You attacked him?”

“We’ve resolved it. Mostly.”

Kate bursts into laughter, and you roll your eyes, already regretting telling her.

"I bet he loved that," Kate snickers. "Seriously, though, I just wanted to call with an update, except there isn’t much of one. The doctors are running every test they can to figure out why he had a heart attack in the first place. Basically, we’re stuck in a waiting game for now.”

Your stomach twists. “How’s Jun handling it?”

She lowers her voice, the weight of concern evident. “I think he’s scared. But he’s putting on a brave front for his mom. She’s beside herself right now.” A pause. “Actually, the doctor is coming now. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Give Jun a big hug for me. Keep me updated. Love you.”

“Love you too, sis. Bye.”

The line goes dead and you glance at the time, it’s just past 8 a.m. Mika stretches beside you, yawning dramatically before perking up, her bright blue eyes locked onto you. Now that she knows you’re awake, there’s no stopping her. She’s practically quivering with morning energy, and it won’t be long before she starts pawing at the door, demanding her outdoor time.

You sigh, already mourning your sweet slumber and the very interesting dream that had been so rudely interrupted.

Mika whines before hopping off the bed and trotting to the door, tail wagging expectantly.

Cracking it open, you peek into the hallway. Seungcheol’s door is still closed. Good, at least one of you gets to sleep in.

Tip-toeing toward the entryway, you slip into your winter gear before heading toward the back deck. The crisp morning air nips at your face as you slide the glass door open and Mika dashes past you in a blur of fur, instantly prancing through the fresh snow.

She lives for the cold, yet somehow refuses to do her business unless she has a bare patch of ground. An interesting quirk of hers. With a resigned sigh, you find a shovel nearby and clear a small area for her.

While she tunnels through the snow, occasionally popping her head up like a mischievous little arctic fox, you shove your gloved hands into your pockets, bouncing on your heels to stay warm.

Once she’s finally done playing and has taken care of business, you barely have to say the magic word, breakfast, before she’s bounding back inside, tail wagging like she just won the lottery.

She sits patiently, her tail sweeping across the floor as you prepare her usual breakfast, dry kibble topped with blueberries and salmon. The combination makes your nose wrinkle, but to her, it’s a five-star meal. She lets out a soft huff, urging you to hurry up, and the second you place the bowl down, she dives in enthusiastically.

As you watch her eat, the weight of yesterday’s events settles over you. The bad date, the phone call, the fire, and the unexpected houseguest. Despite all the chaos, there’s a lingering sense of gratitude warming your chest. Things could have been so much worse.

Deciding you want to thank Seungcheol, you rummage through the pantry and fridge, gathering everything you need to whip up a nice breakfast for yourselves. It’s the least you can do for him.

With your favorite indie playlist humming through the speakers, you settle into the rhythm of cooking. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla fills the air as the french toast sizzles on the stove. Lost in the process, you sway a little to the music, waiting for the perfect moment to flip the slices.

Until something in your peripheral catches your attention, and when you glance up, your breath hitches.

Seungcheol steps out of the guest room, still half-asleep, his dark hair tousled in an unfairly attractive way. But that’s not what has you flushing, it’s the fact that he’s shirtless, with his toned chest and defined abs on full display. The gray sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips aren’t helping your already scattered thoughts.

Your gaze lingers a second too long. Maybe three. Or five…

By the time you snap out of it, his smirk is already forming. Oh, he definitely caught you looking. The heat creeping up your neck betrays you, and his smirk deepens.

“Morning,” he says, voice still rough with sleep.

You clear your throat, quickly turning back to the stove. “Morning. Breakfast will be ready soon.”

“Smells good,” he muses, stepping closer. “Need any help?”

You swallow hard, focusing on flipping the french toast before it burns. “You know what would be helpful?” you ask, keeping your eyes on the pan, not on him.

“What’s that?” he replies, stretching his arms above his head.

You steal one last glance, just a quick one, watching the way his muscles ripple with the movement. Damn it. Get a grip.

“If you’d go throw on a shirt, Rolie Polie Cheolie.”

His laughter is instant, loud and unapologetic. “Wow. That nickname is uncalled for.” He runs a slow hand down his chest, smiling smugly. “Is this too much for you? I totally understand why.”

Your grip tightens around the spatula as you flash him a sickly sweet smile, waving it in your hand as a reminder. “Should we revisit last night?”

His smile falters, eyes darting to the spatula like he’s considering his odds. “Damn, woman. Okay.” Still chuckling, he lifts his hands in surrender and backs away. “I’ll go find a shirt. But for the record…” he pauses in the doorway, glancing back at you with a knowing grin. “You didn’t have to stare.”

Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the stove. This man is going to be the death of you.

It’s day three of surviving Seungcheol.

You don’t know when you started keeping track, but at this point, it feels necessary. Every glance, every smirk, every damn stretch of his ridiculously sculpted arms even when he’s innocently putting away the washed dishes after a meal, chips away at your resolve.

Kate hadn’t helped. Last night, after calling with an update, she’d gone there*.*

“If you’re looking for some fun*,* Seungcheol is definitely the way to go,” she’d said, voice full of mischief.

You’d nearly choked on your water. “Excuse me?”

“He’s so fine. Not as fine as Jun, of course, but Seungcheol is a man if you know what I mean.”

Your gaze had drifted traitorously toward him. He’s comfortably sprawled in the corner chair, book in hand, looking every bit like a romance novel cover come to life.

You’d hissed into the phone, “Shut up,” even though he’d need superhuman hearing to catch onto what she was saying.

“All I’m saying is, you never know what might happen over the next few days. Have some fun.”

Heat crawls up your neck as you rise to grab a drink from the kitchen. Why is it suddenly so warm in here?

“Nothing is going to happen,” you’d whispered back, firmly.

“Boo. You’re no fun.” She’d let it go after that, moving on to say they’d likely be home by next Wednesday. Nine more days. That’s all you have to survive.

Nine days without making a fool of yourself.

Nine days without giving in to the way he makes your pulse stutter.

Three down and nine to go. Twelve total…You can do it. Right? You just need to focus. Like on your book.

Yes. Writing. That’ll keep your thoughts free of Seungcheol.

After your usual morning routine of walking Mika, enjoying breakfast, and tidying up, Seungcheol casually mentions that he’s heading out for a run.

Jogging in the cold sounds like actual torture to you, but you still offer him a small smile. “Have a good run!”

“Thanks,” he says, rolling out his shoulders as he stretches. His muscles flex with the movement underneath his tight zip-up, and you have to remind yourself not to stare. “When I get back, I’ll cook us dinner.”

That certainly piques your interest. “Oh? Do you cook often?”

“You could say that. Plus, I wouldn’t want you starving under my watch,” he teases with a wink before heading out the door.

You narrow your eyes at the space he just vacated. Has he figured out that your culinary skills barely extend beyond breakfast foods? Maybe the fact that you reheated frozen leftovers twice yesterday tipped him off.

Once he’s gone, you settle into your writing space with a hot tea nearby and your laptop open, fingers poised over the keyboard. The hardest part is always getting started, but once you do, the words tend to flow. Today, they’re flowing especially well.

You’re making great progress on the prologue, recapping the last book’s events and weaving in the setup for the new characters. But as you flesh out the love interest, describing his dark, chocolatey hair and toned physique, a realization hits you.

You’re using a certain someone as inspiration.

The realization makes your fingers hesitate over the keyboard. Seriously? You shake your head, trying to brush off the thought, but it lingers, settling into the back of your mind like an itch you can’t quite scratch.

Your main character’s love interest is supposed to be effortlessly charismatic, strong, and just the right amount of a cocky attitude. Traits that, annoyingly, align all too well with the man currently out on his run. The way he smirks when he catches you looking, the deep timbre of his voice, the way he makes your heart race anytime he’s within touching distance.

You groan and drop your head onto the table. This is ridiculous.

Maybe Kate was right. Maybe your subconscious is betraying you, channeling all that pent-up energy into your writing instead of…well, other things.

Before you can spiral further, you take a deep breath and push those distracting thoughts out of your mind. Focus. You force your attention back to your screen, determined to channel this energy into something productive.

You finish fleshing out the details of your character, the way his eyes darken when he’s deep in thought, the way his presence commands a room without effort. You tweak a few lines, refining his dialogue until it feels just right.

Satisfied, you move on, letting the story take shape one sentence at a time. The tension between your characters simmers, the chemistry practically leaping off the page. It’s electric, intense…and maybe, just maybe, a little too familiar.

You shake off the thought and keep writing, ignoring the way your mind keeps circling back to a certain firefighter with a teasing smirk and frustratingly perfect timing.

“Whatcha working on?”

You nearly jump out of your seat. A damp towel hangs around Seungcheol’s shoulders, his hair still wet from a shower. He’s also wearing different clothes than earlier, a fresh pair of lounge pants and a fitted black tee that does nothing to hide the way his broad shoulders and toned arms fill it out.

When did he even get back? You didn’t hear him come in, let alone get undressed and shower.

“You were so engrossed in whatever this is,” he motions to your laptop screen, “that you didn’t even hear me say I was hopping in the shower.”

Your heart is still trying to recover from the surprise, and maybe from the sight of him standing so casually in front of you, all post-workout and freshly showered.

“W-what?” you stammer, snapping your laptop shut on instinct. “I was…just writing.”

His lips curl into a slow, knowing smirk. “About what?”

Absolutely not. There is no way in hell you’re telling him the truth.

“Um, I’m an author. I have a book due soon as part of my contract.”

Seungcheol nods, clearly waiting for you to elaborate. His gaze makes you hesitate, do you dive into the full truth about writing romantasy smut or keep things vague? A simple character plotting excuse could work, but something about the way he’s watching you makes you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“It’s, um, about a warrior heiress whose assigned protector is a human hybrid. He can morph into a giant guardian dog at will. And, well…she kind of falls for him.” You pause, watching his reaction, then, without thinking, add, “Do you know what knotting means?”

The second the words leave your mouth, you want to crawl under the table.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shoot up, a smirk playing on his lips. “Do I want to know?”

Your face is on fire. Abort. Abort. You shake your head rapidly. “No, probably not.”

He chuckles, clearly amused by your panic but merciful enough to let it slide. “Alright then,” he says, using the towel to dry off his hair some more. It’s enough to distract you.

Little do you know, he’s definitely planning on looking it up later.

“How was your run? And shower?” you babble, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Both were good,” he replies smoothly, eyes still holding a trace of interest in the previous topic of conversation. “But I’m starving now. How about you?”

You swallow, forcing yourself to focus. “Well, I won’t say no to food,” you say, standing up and stretching, trying to act casual.

Seungcheol smirks like he knows exactly where your mind wanders. “Good. Because I plan on impressing you.”

“Oh? Bold of you to assume I’m easily impressed.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not up for the challenge,” he says, his voice dripping with confidence. “You want to help, or are you still lost in your little fantasy world?”

The teasing in his voice makes your eyes narrow. Without hesitation, you snap your laptop shut before he can read another word. “I’ve hit my goal for the day. Put me to work, chef.”

He laughs, “Wow, such enthusiasm. Almost convincing.” He slings the damp towel over his shoulder. “Let me toss this in the laundry hamper, and then we’ll get started.”

As he disappears down the hall, you exhale, pressing your palms against the cool surface of the table. Seungcheol has no idea what you were writing, but the thought of him finding out makes your stomach twist. And not necessarily in a bad way.

By the time he returns, you’ve found an apron and slipped it on, attempting to tie the strings behind you. He stops mid-step, taking in the sight of you. His grin is slow and approving. “Look at you, all dressed for the part.”

You place your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow. “Obviously. Now, Super Couper, what’s on the menu?”

He groans, dragging a hand through his hair before shooting you a playful glare. “How many more ridiculous nicknames do you have up your sleeve?”

You tilt your head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “An endless amount.” Your smile is far too triumphant. “It’s a habit of mine. And lucky you, you get to be the exclusive recipient for the next several days.”

He shakes his head at the new ridiculous nickname, but the grin on his face gives him away. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely,” you tease, adjusting the apron strings behind your back. “Now, tell me what I’m chopping, stirring, or burning.”

He chuckles, stepping closer. His hands brush over yours as he takes over and ties the apron for you, pulling the strings snug. The warmth of his fingers lingers even after he steps back. “We’re making spicy kimchi fried rice with seared steak.”

Your stomach growls in approval, and he smiles. “I’ll handle the steak since I don’t want you to accidentally ruin it,” he teases. “You’re on chopping duty. Can I trust you with a knife?”

You scoff, grabbing a knife. “Duh.”

He leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with amused eyes. “We’ll see.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the way your pulse skips as you start slicing. This is fine. Totally normal. Just two adults cooking together. It’s definitely not a big deal that you can feel his body heat every time he moves past you, or that his deep, husky chuckle makes your stomach flutter.

You won’t admit it, but you’re totally impressed by the way Seungcheol moves around the kitchen with ease, like he was born to do this. He’s completely in his element. You find yourself wondering why he became a firefighter instead of a chef at some high-end restaurant.

Seungcheol watches as you slice into an onion, “Here, let me show you how to hold it properly—”

“I know how to do it,” you huff, gripping the handle tighter. “I’m capable of chopping vegetables, Seungcheol.”

He raises a brow at your defensive tone, then softens. “Of course you are,” he says gently. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Something about his concern makes your stomach twist. Maybe it’s the way he automatically took over, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s right, but either way, it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. He seems to realize it too because he steps back, letting you finish on your own without another word.

The tension lingers as he takes the chopped veggies and tosses them into the pan, sautéing them before mixing them with the rice. You know it’s ridiculous to hold a grudge over something as small as knife skills, but the silence stretches between you as you both eat, neither wanting to be the first to break it.

Even Mika, who’s happily munching away at her dinner, doesn’t offer a distraction from the lingering silence.

Seungcheol wouldn’t know this, but people have been stepping in to ‘help’ you your whole life, whether you wanted them to or not. Being a little clumsy means that, more often than not, others take over, deciding you’re too slow, too messy, or just better off watching.

You’ve fought to prove yourself capable in small ways, learning things at your own pace, and taking pride in figuring them out on your own. You know Seungcheol didn’t mean it that way. His help wasn’t condescending, it wasn't just let me do it move like you’ve experienced before.

Finally, you exhale, deciding to move past it. No point in sulking over it.

“So,” you say after taking a drink of your water, “Can I ask you something?”

Seungcheol glances up, mid-bite, eyebrows raising slightly. “Of course.”

“You seem really comfortable in the kitchen,” you pause, watching the way his shoulders stiffen. “Why firefighting? Why not something food-related?”

“I spent some time in culinary school, but I like doing things my own way. It wasn’t for me.” He leans back slightly, twirling his fork between his fingers. “Firefighting is…different. It’s this rush of energy that takes over your body. You assess the situation, cut the wildfire off from its resources, do everything in your power to stop it from growing. It’s intense, but it’s rewarding.” He exhales, his gaze momentarily distant. “But I’m not sure it’s exactly for me anymore either.”

“Oh? Really? Why’s that?”

He hesitates for a beat, then shrugs. “I have a few things to figure out, some important decisions to make. That sort of thing.” His tone makes it clear he’s not ready to elaborate, so he shifts the conversation instead. “What about you? Have you always liked writing?”

“God, no,” you say with a short laugh. “I’ve always been an avid reader, but I kept looking for a specific type of book that either wasn’t well written or didn’t exist. Eventually, I just decided to write it myself.” You glance at your mostly empty plate. “I’m still new to it all, this is only my second book, but I like it.”

Seungcheol nods, offering a small smile. “That’s good.”

You let the comfortable quiet settle between you as you both take the last few bites of dinner.

“Thanks for dinner, by the way,” you say, getting up to take your dishes to the sink.

“Thanks for helping.”

Day Five of Surviving Seungcheol

Yesterday wasn’t particularly eventful, just another day of coexisting with the infuriatingly perceptive man currently occupying your space. The most eventful thing that happened was Seungcheol shoveling the driveway and front steps after the snowfall, which, for Mika, was basically an invitation to turn the entire ordeal into a game. She chased after flying clumps of snow, leaping at them mid-air like an overexcited puppy, completely unbothered by the cold.

Unlike you.

Even though the sun shined for most of the day, the mountain air bites sharper than usual, cutting through every layer you’ve thrown on. No matter how many sweaters or blankets you bundle yourself in, warmth remains elusive. And now that the sun has gone down, the temperature seems to have dropped again.

“God, I miss the warm weather,” you mutter, pushing off the couch in search of yet another blanket.

Seungcheol frowns, his eyes tracking you as you disappear down the hall. He already turned up the thermostat earlier when he noticed goosebumps on your arms, and you’ve thrown on a sweater since then. He sets his nearly finished book down, rolling his shoulders as he stands.

By the time you return, arms wrapped around the thickest blanket you could find, the unmistakable crackle of fire fills the living room.

You stop in your tracks, eyes flicking to Seungcheol, who’s crouched near the fireplace, adjusting the logs. The warm glow of the flames casts flickering shadows across his face, highlighting the quiet concentration in his features.

Somehow, he always catches onto things and does them before you even think to ask.

“It should warm up in here pretty fast now,” he says, meeting your eyes.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Do you, uh…want to watch something while you write, or would that be distracting?” he asks, unsure.

“I could use some background noise. Put on whatever you want.”

Seungcheol grabs the remote and flips through the options before settling on the latest action movie. It’s loud, fast-paced, and (at least in theory) should hold his attention.

Except it doesn’t.

He’ll admit, he hasn’t got a single clue what’s happening on the screen. Explosions, car chases, intense fight scenes; they all blur together as his focus repeatedly drifts to your laptop.

It’s not his fault. Really.

He had every intention of watching the movie. Based on the description, it seemed like something he’d enjoy. But the moment his gaze flickered toward your screen, all thoughts of entertainment evaporated. His curiosity got the best of him, and now he’s stealing glances, completely distracted by the way your fingers move over the keys with effortless ease.

And after reading a line, all rational thought leaves his head.

Dash looks up at me with fire in his eyes. “You’re mine. Your heart, your mouth, your sweet cunt—it’s all mine.” A deep growl vibrates from his chest as he pulls me onto his lap, his hardening length pressing against me through his pants.

Seungcheol swallows hard, eyes darting between the flashing scenes on the TV and the words on your laptop. Jesus Christ. He stiffens, willing his expression to remain neutral. But it’s impossible to unsee the words, impossible to ignore the way his brain short-circuits at the imagery.

Dash shreds my corset with his claws, discarding the tattered fabric like it’s nothing. His mouth latches onto my nipple, his hand cupping the other, his touch rough yet reverent. I whimper as he spreads my thighs, lifting my skirt to reveal—

He sucks in a sharp breath, snapping his head back toward the TV. Nope. Nope. Nope.

But now he’s hyper-aware of you sitting beside him, completely unbothered as your fingers move effortlessly over the keys. You’re so focused, so immersed in crafting this sinful scene like it’s just another day at work.

He wants to laugh. He wants to tease. He wants to ask you what the hell kind of research you’ve been doing for this book, but more than anything, he kinda wants to know what happens next.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to enjoy a smutty book,” you muse, lips curling into a knowing smirk. You should probably be embarrassed that he’s been sneakily reading, but watching the initial shock on his face shift into reluctant curiosity is far too entertaining.

Seungcheol’s head snaps toward you so fast you’re surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. Shit. I’ve been caught.

You laugh, the sound bubbling out before you can stop it. Eventually, Seungcheol joins in, shaking his head in amusement. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it. You’re good, though. I can see why your last book sold so many copies.”

Your brows lift in mock surprise. “Ah, have you been doing a little research on me?”

He smirks, completely unapologetic. “Maybe just a little. I didn’t realize I was sharing a house with the beloved BookTok queen.”

That makes you laugh even harder, the sound ringing through the room. Seungcheol watches you, taking in the way your eyes squint when you laugh, how your whole face lights up. Damn, he thinks, you’re gorgeous.

Seungcheol pushes himself up from the couch, partially to hide his growing hard-on and partially to grab a snack. He’s so attracted to you, more than he ever expected to be. “Feel like popcorn?”

“Yum, yes! That sounds fab,” you say, already diving back into your smut scene.

A few minutes later, he returns with a freshly popped bowl of popcorn and two cold beers. “Wasn’t sure if you drink, but I can grab you some water instead if you prefer.”

You smile at his thoughtfulness. “Nah, beer is great. Thanks.”

The two of you settle in, watching the last half of the movie together. Not that you’re paying much attention, you’re pretty sure Seungcheol isn’t either, as you keep stealing glances at each other. Plus, the plot is all over the place, and you both seem equally lost.

Then, just as things finally seem to be wrapping up, one of the love interests dies. And just like that, you’re completely checked out. If there’s one thing you cannot stand, it’s an unhappy ending. You’re a die-hard Happy Ever After lover. What was the point of all that buildup if they were just going to rip it away?

Seungcheol stretches, letting out a deep yawn as the credits begin to roll. “That felt longer than I thought it would.”

“Sleepy?” you ask, hoping maybe he’ll say no and you can keep hanging out a little longer.

But he yawns again, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, surprisingly, I am. I better head to bed.” He shoots you a tired smile. “Sweet dreams.”

…

Seungcheol hesitates for half a second before nodding and retreating to his room. As he shuts the door behind him, your expression lingers in his mind. There was something there, just for a moment. Maybe he imagined it.

He shakes his head. Don’t be stupid. He won’t get his hopes up about you having any sort of feeling for him. And he refuses to put you in that position.

Exhaling deeply, he climbs into bed, exhaustion weighing on him. Sleep comes quickly, but the comfort is short-lived.

The memory that haunts him returns, just like it always does. His body tenses, breath shallowing as he’s yanked back into the nightmare that never leaves him alone.

Fire. Smoke. The metallic taste of fear coating his tongue.

He tosses and turns, jaw clenched, fingers twitching as though trying to dig through rubble that isn’t there. His face contorts in distress, beads of sweat forming at his temple as the scene replays, relentless and unforgiving.

No.

He sprints toward the smoldering wreckage of what was once a home, his heart pounding harder than his boots against the ashy ground. The house was still standing only hours ago. He told them to leave, practically begged them to, but the charred remains of their car in the driveway tell him all he needs to know.

Still, he digs. His hands work frantically, shoving aside collapsed beams and shattered drywall, hoping—praying—that he won’t find what he’s looking for. That his gut feeling is wrong. That by some miracle, they made it out.

But then, he sees them.

A pair of burned bodies curled around something small. No, no, no, no…

His stomach twists violently as he stumbles back. The infant cradled in their lifeless arms, the baby he promised would be safe, is gone too.

His breath catches. The awful taste of failure coats his tongue, choking him.

You had planned to sleep hours ago, but the book you’re reading is just too good. Mika is curled up at your side, warm and comfortable, and you’ve convinced yourself that one more chapter won’t hurt.

Just as you shift under the covers, a faint noise catches your attention.

You sit up, ears straining. Was that… talking?

At first, it’s too muffled to make out. Maybe Seungcheol is on the phone? But then, clearer this time, desperate and pleading.

“No! No, please no!”

A shiver runs down your spine. That wasn’t the voice of someone having a casual conversation. That was pain.

You rush out of bed, heart hammering, and press your ear against the guest bedroom door. Faint whimpers slip through the painted wood, his distress clear even from the hallway.

“Seungcheol?” You crack the door open slightly, hesitant to intrude. “Is everything alright?”

But then he lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Screw privacy.

You rush to his side, your hand finding his trembling shoulder. “Hey, it’s just a bad dream,” you say gently, settling onto the bed beside him. His breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps, his face twisted in agony. You shake him, not too hard but firm enough to pull him from the nightmare’s grip. “Seungcheol, wake up. You’re safe. It’s alright, everything is alright.”

His eyelids flutter, his gaze unfocused as he blinks up at you. “Y/N?” His voice is hoarse, heavy with exhaustion and something else, perhaps something raw like grief.

“I’m here,” you whisper, your touch instinctively soothing as you rub slow circles along his back. “Shh. Go back to sleep.”

His ragged breathing gradually evens out, his body loosening as the tension melts away. Just as you think he’s fully drifted off, you start to move, planning to slip away quietly.

But before you can, his arms tighten around you.

You stiffen, every muscle locking up as he pulls you back down, tucking you against his chest.

The warmth of him is immediate, wrapping around you like a cocoon. He moves on instinct, tossing the blanket over you, his hold protective, unconsciously seeking comfort.

You fit perfectly against him.

You try not to think about it. About how steady his heartbeat sounds beneath your ear. About how his breath brushes against your hair. About how ridiculously pretty his eyelashes are up this close. Or how full his lips look, even now, parted slightly in sleep.

You tell yourself you’ll stay just a few minutes. Just until he’s completely settled. But your eyelids grow heavy, the warmth of his embrace lulling you into quiet surrender.

And before you know it, you’ve slipped into slumber beside him.

A few hours later, sunlight peeks through the blinds, lighting up your face as you stir awake. You blink against the brightness, momentarily disoriented until the empty space beside you registers.

Seungcheol is gone.

You sit up quickly, heart stuttering. Shit. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep here. You should’ve woken up first and slipped out unnoticed, so you could pretend like nothing ever happened.

Did he realize you stayed? Of course, he realized. You were next to him when he got up.

Swinging your legs off the bed, you brush a hand through your hair and take a steadying breath before padding out into the main part of the house.

Through the window, you spot him outside with Mika. He’s already shoveled a bare patch for her, ensuring she doesn’t have to trudge through the deep snow just to do her business.

Your heart gives an inconvenient little patter.

Of course, he would remember to do that. He’s always so considerate, always catching onto things, even if you don’t realize he does.

You quietly retreat back to the primary bedroom, rifling through the duffel bag of clothes you brought. If you’re going to pretend last night didn’t happen, you might as well do it while looking cute. You settle on a cozy but flattering outfit, then jump into the shower, hoping the hot water will help clear your head.

By the time you emerge, refreshed and dressed, Seungcheol has come back inside.

“Morning,” he greets, looking up as you approach.

You hesitate, searching his expression for any hint of last night’s events, of waking up tangled together, of his unconscious grip pulling you closer.

But he doesn’t mention it. Huh, interesting.

“Hi,” you reply, forcing a casual smile. “Good morning.”

And just like that, it’s as if nothing ever happened. You keep your expression neutral, though a tiny pang of disappointment lingers. Pretending was your plan, so why does it sting a little when he beats you to it?

“I noticed the kitchen faucet was dripping this morning,” Seungcheol says, before drinking the rest of his coffee. “Tried fixing it, but I think it needs to be replaced. I’m gonna run into town to grab a new one. Want to escape for the day? We could grab lunch while we’re out.”

A break actually sounds nice. You haven’t gotten much writing done anyway, and the weight of waiting for feedback from your agent and publisher is pressing heavier by the hour.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I sent in my rough outline and a few chapters yesterday, but I haven’t heard anything back yet. I think the suspense is killing my creativity.”

He nods in understanding. “Makes sense. Want to get ready first?”

“Yeah, give me five minutes.”

Back in your room, you sift through your bag before settling on your favorite pair of jeans and a cropped crewneck that sits just right at your waist, warm enough for layering under your winter coat. You twist your hair into a claw clip, swipe on some mascara and lip gloss, then take one last glance in the mirror before heading out to meet him.

When you return, you find Seungcheol has changed too. He’s now wearing a flannel, dark slacks, and a ball cap. You squint, trying to make out the embroidered words. Dude’s Bait & Tackle.

“Who’s Dude?” you ask while slipping on your boots.

“My brother.”

Your head tilts slightly. “You have a brother?”

“Yeah, he’s a few years older than me. I probably don’t visit him as often as I should.” He shrugs, grabbing his jacket and the note he jotted down with the faucet’s dimensions. “Not that he minds, he’s not much of a people person.”

You nod, filing that little detail about him away. “Ready when you are.”

Grabbing your purse, you turn to Mika, crouching down to scratch behind her ears. “Be good, we’ll be back soon. I love you so much. Make good decisions, okay?”

Seungcheol fights back a laugh, secretly charmed by the way you treat Mika like a tiny, furry human. Instead, he simply shakes his head and opens the front door for you, following you out to his truck.

Without hesitation, he moves ahead to open the passenger door for you too.

Chivalry isn’t dead, after all.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, feeling a little guilty for making him go out of his way.

“I know,” Seungcheol replies easily, offering his hand to help you up into the seat. “But I was raised to be a gentleman.” Then, with a small smirk, he adds, “Plus, I don’t mind helping a pretty girl.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Oh, so if I was ugly, you’d just slam the door in my face? That's what you’re saying, Coupcake?”

His smirk deepens as he shakes his head, then suddenly leans in to buckle your seatbelt for you. Your breath catches, he’s close, so close. You catch a hint of his cologne, warm and woodsy, and your cheeks heat despite the cold air outside.

After clicking the buckle into place, he tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I need to start writing these down. You’ve got some good ones.”

“Don’t encourage me, or I’ll have to pull out the big guns,” you tease, lifting a brow.

He chuckles, rolling his eyes as he steps back and shuts the door. A second later, he’s sliding into the driver’s seat beside you, the corners of his mouth still tugging into a smile.

And just like that, the day suddenly feels like it will be a lot more interesting.

Seungcheol wakes up feeling more rested than he has in a long time. A rare kind of warmth settles deep in his bones, the kind that makes him want to stay in bed just a little longer. He takes a slow breath in, and his senses are instantly flooded with you. Vanilla, soft and sweet, mixed with something else he hasn’t quite figured out yet.

His arms tighten around you instinctively before his brain fully catches up. Why are you in my bed? He doesn’t remember. But fuck, he’s not complaining.

Snuggling in a little deeper, his palm glides over your side, fingertips tracing the curve of your waist. You fit against him perfectly, your body molding into his like you were meant to be there.

And then you shift.

A small, unconscious movement, but it sends your ass pressing right against his already half-awake length, making him inhale sharply through his nose.

Shit.

He freezes, willing his body to relax. Don’t ruin this for me right now, he thinks to himself, demanding his body to behave. Clenching his jaw, he wills little Coups to calm the fuck down before this gets embarrassing.

And for a second, he thinks he has it under control. Until you shift again, this time pressing even closer, your warmth seeping through the layers of fabric between you.

Then, in the softest murmur, barely above a whisper, you breathe his name.

“Mmm, Seungcheol.”

His stomach clenches. His fingers twitch against your skin.

Holy. Fuck.

Yeah. He needs to get up. Right now. Before time reverts and he’s turned back into a horny teenager, about to embarrass himself in ways he will never recover from.

Carefully, Seungcheol pulls away from your warmth, slipping out from beneath the covers with as much stealth as he can manage. You barely stir, completely unaware of the hold you have over him. Over his mind, his body, his every last ounce of self-control.

He needs distance. Immediately.

Making his way down the hall, he beelines for the bathroom at the far end of the house, somewhere safely out of range, where he can get his shit together before he does something unbelievably stupid.

Like pinning you against the bookshelf in the living room and fucking you until you scream his name.

Or bending you over the kitchen counter, pushing your hair aside so he can bite down on your shoulder as he takes you from behind.

Or his personal favorite—his absolute fucking favorite—you on top of him, sinking down onto his cock inch by inch, gasping as you stretch around him. Maybe even making that same sinful little sound you let out the other night at dinner, when you were upset with him but still savoring every bite.

A deep groan rumbles in his chest as he steps into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

And finally, finally, he shoves his boxers down and wraps a fist around his aching cock.

Seungcheol drags his thumb over his needy tip, a shudder rolling down his spine. His body is desperate, pulsing with heat. He pulls his hand away just long enough to spit into his palm before wrapping it back around his aching length.

Shutting his eyes, he delves into the fantasy, one that feels so damn real he almost swears he can still smell your vanilla scent clinging to his skin.

In another world, he wouldn’t have left that bed. Wouldn’t have forced himself to walk away. No, he would’ve pulled you closer instead, arm tightening around your waist as his hand slipped beneath your sleep shorts. His fingers would have teased their way down, brushing over your clit before dragging through your folds, already damp and so warm. The moment he pressed inside, you’d gasp, surprised, shifting in his arms but not pulling away. Never pulling away.

His strokes quicken, his breath growing uneven.

You’d turn toward him, sleep-heavy eyes blinking open, and without a word, your thighs would part just a little wider, it’s an invitation. A plea he’d answer by curling two fingers deep inside you, coaxing those needy little pants from your lips, watching as your face melted with pleasure.

His grip tightens. His hips jerk up into his hand.

He knows exactly how it would go. Knows that soon enough, you’d be begging—please, Cheol, more—and fuck, he’d give it to you. He’d slide your shorts down, tug that tiny tank top over your head, confirming what he already knew. That you have the most perfect fucking tits. And then he’d sink into you without hesitation, stretching you open, watching your mouth fall open as you take him. With every thrust, your body would give, your back arching, your breasts bouncing, your nails digging into his skin as he buried himself deeper.

Seungcheol groans low in his throat, head tilting back against the wall. His hand moves faster, chasing the high that feels so close.

Jesus fuck.

You’d let him know you were close, breathless and needy, voice barely more than a whimper. Cheol, I’m gonna—

And just to push you over that perfect edge, he’d press his thumb to your swollen clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, slow and deliberate. He’d swirl it in tight circles, watching your body tremble, feeling your walls flutter around him as you gasped his name. And that would be it.

The way you’d squeeze around him, your body tightening, back arching as you came apart beneath him…it would wreck him completely. He’d follow you down, groaning against your skin as his own pleasure took hold, spilling deep inside—

Seungcheol’s stomach clenches as the tension finally snaps. A low, strangled curse leaves his lips as his release spills into the wad of toilet paper in his hand, his whole body shuddering with relief.

For a long moment, he just breathes. Letting the fantasy slowly fade, leaving only the lingering heat and the undeniable truth that settles deep in his chest. You have him wrapped around your fucking finger.

The worst part? You don’t even know it.

And if this morning was any indication, this sure as hell wouldn’t be the last time he nearly loses it in front of you.

He cleans himself up and steps out of the bathroom, only to be met with Mika sitting in the hallway, staring at him with what can only be described as judgment.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes. “I’m not admitting to anything,” he mutters, sidestepping her as he grabs his boots.

Carrying his boots over to the sliding glass door, he slips them on before letting Mika outside. The mountain air is sharp and bracing, biting at his exposed skin, but he welcomes the chill. He needs it to clear his head, to get his damn hormones in check before he faces you.

His eyes land on the shovel propped against the railing, right where you left it. With a quiet sigh, he picks it up and starts clearing a spot in the snow for Mika. It’s a small thing, but he knows she won’t go until she has her designated space. He’d caught onto the routine not long after watching the two of you in the mornings, your sleepy voice murmuring to her, the way she’d nuzzle against your leg as you shoveled.

It’s second nature to you. And now, somehow, it’s becoming second nature to him too.

On his way back inside, he peeks into the bedroom. You’re still curled up beneath the blankets, your breathing soft and even, completely oblivious to the chaos he just put himself through. He swallows, shaking his head, and reaches for his sweatpants that are flung haphazardly over the dresser. He tugs them on before heading into the kitchen, flicking on the coffee pot. As he fills it with water, his gaze catches on the steady drip, drip, drip of the kitchen faucet after he’s turned it off.

Perfect.

It’s a small issue, easy to fix, but also the perfect excuse to escape the house with you for a few hours. Get out. Get some air. Act like a normal human being who isn’t fantasizing about his housemate every time she so much as breathes.

It’s a genius plan, really.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

And when you wake up, stretching with a sleepy yawn, he casually tosses out the idea. Just as he predicted, you happily agree. Now all he has to do is behave in public. Where other people are watching.

…

In the hardware store, Seungcheol notices how you’re walking closely by his side, the subtle shift in the space between you making his pulse quicken. He casually scans the aisle signs, looking for the one he needs, but his mind isn’t entirely focused on faucets. He feels the need to linger, to have you near just a few seconds longer.

Without overthinking, he places his hand on your lower back, guiding you toward the right aisle. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels significant. He pretends to inspect the faucet options, even though he already knows exactly which one he’s going to grab, but he takes his time, savoring the small moment.

While he’s there, he picks up a couple of tools he might need, he’s pretty sure the surgeon doesn’t have much in the handyman tool department. Junhui’s first aid kit, however, is incredible, containing everything from bandages to advanced trauma gear. All of which is perfectly organized. As a first responder, Seungcheol can respect it.

As he heads toward the checkout counter, his gaze drifts to a box of dog toys. He adds one to his pile without a second thought, a quiet smile tugging at his lips as he imagines Mika tearing into the new toy with her usual enthusiasm.

…

At lunch, you get a ding on your phone, and Seungcheol notices the frown that appears on your face.

“Everything alright?” he asks, thinking it might be a not-so-good update from Kate.

“I don’t know, it’s an email from my publishing team.” He watches as your eyes pan back and forth as you read the message, noticing the slight slump of your shoulders. “They want to have a call tomorrow morning to go over what I’ve submitted. That can’t be good.”

“Why do you think that?” he asks, his concern growing.

“They think I’m not exactly meeting expectations…” you sigh, hesitating for a moment before opening up. “I’m struggling with writing what they want versus how I see the story unfolding. I’m not sure the direction they’re pushing me in is the right one.”

Seungcheol leans back, thinking for a moment. “You should just write what you want. Forget about what your readers expect, forget about what your team suggests. Focus on what you want the story to be.”

You take another bite of your meal, letting his words sink in. A part of you feels the weight lift just a little, even as you continue to grapple with the balance between creative freedom and external pressure.

“I’m not sure how much help I’d be, but if you’d like me to read over what you have so far, I’d be happy to give you an outsider’s opinion,” Seungcheol offers.

You hadn’t expected him to offer, and it caught you off guard for a moment.

“Feeling a change of heart compared to the other day?” you tease, remembering how flustered he got after sneaking a peek at the spicy scene you were writing. “It’s alright. I’m sure after tomorrow I’ll at least know what they’re thinking. It’ll be good to talk it out.”

He shrugs with a slight smile. “Okay, but the offer still stands.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely appreciating the offer. “Now, it’s your turn, Cheol Chops. Tell me something about your life to make me feel better about mine,” you half-joke. “Got anything you need to vent about?”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. “On a scale from zero to Junhui, how good are you at giving advice?”

You both know that Jun is the king of advice. He’s logical and always happy to provide a pro/con list. You smile at the thought. “Probably about 50% Jun, but I lean more towards emotional advice rather than logical. So, take that as a fair warning. What’s up?”

Seungcheol sighs, his voice quieter as he opens up. “I broke a promise that I can’t take back, nor can I fix it. It’s caused some issues at work, and my fire chief put me on temporary leave so I can work through it. But now I’m really thinking about what I want to do next.”

You listen intently, noticing the weight of his words.

“I mentioned the other day that I don’t think wildland firefighting is something I can keep up with. But I don’t want to give up firefighting entirely, so I’ve been considering transferring to an inner-city station. I’d still get the rush of helping people, but it wouldn’t be as physically or mentally demanding. I’d be working in shifts, and the change in scenery could be good for me.”

His eyes drift down, clearly conflicted. “I was really hoping to talk to Jun about it, but I didn't want to bother him, considering everything going on right now. I’m just not sure what the right choice is. What do you think? Should I go back after my leave and risk more trouble, or try something new and potentially fail at it?”

His question hangs in the air, a mix of uncertainty and hope. You can see how much he's wrestling with it, and you want to help him make the decision that feels right.

“I’d say try something new,” you reply thoughtfully, meeting his gaze. “Otherwise, you might find yourself back in the same place, struggling again. Plus, if you give the city option a shot and it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know. It’s not a failure; it’s just learning something about yourself. And that’s always a win in my eyes. It takes courage to step into the unknown.”

Seungcheol feels a slight weight lift off his chest, a warmth spreading in his chest hearing you say that. It’s a small comfort, but it’s enough to give him a bit more clarity, a bit more peace to make that upcoming decision.

Day Seven of Surviving Seungcheol

Sleep was impossible last night. You were too tangled in anxious thoughts to get any actual rest, and now the nerves are eating you alive. You’re jittery as you sit in front of your laptop, the glow of the screen casting a faint light on your face. The meeting is about to start, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Every second that ticks by feels like an eternity, your hands nervously tapping against the edge of the desk as you wait for your team to join the call.

You sit up straighter after the familiar faces appear, trying to shake off the anxiety in your chest as your agent speaks, his voice steady but distant through the screen. You can feel the tension coiling inside you, your nerves prickling with each word.

“Thanks for meeting with us on such short notice,” your agent continues, giving you a polite but businesslike smile. “I know you mentioned being out of town, so we appreciate you making time for us virtually.”

You nod, offering a weak smile in return. “Of course. I’m glad we could make it work.” Your voice comes out a little more strained than you intend, but they don’t seem to notice.

The conversation moves into expectations. They want ‘less dense material, more filler and fluff between the spicy scenes,’ your agent explains, his tone matter-of-fact.

Your heart sinks. Fluff? You don’t want to write a story full of empty space. You’ve poured your soul into creating a rich world, with real characters and stakes, and now they’re asking for less of that?

You can feel the frustration bubbling up, but you push it back, trying to keep your voice steady. “So, you want me to cut out the fantasy aspects? Completely?”

Your agent shifts, clearly trying to soften the blow. “Not entirely. Maybe just scale it back. We think a more erotic romance-focused direction will make the story more accessible. It’ll be easier to market.”

The words sting. You’ve always known writing was a business, but this? This feels like a betrayal of everything you’ve worked toward.

“But that’s not what my reader base expects,” you argue, leaning forward. “They’ve followed me for the story, for the world-building. They expect something more than just... fluff.”

Your agent presses on, oblivious to your concerns. “Look, we think this could broaden your reach, and gain thousands of new readers. We’re just thinking of your career in the long run.”

You feel a knot forming in your stomach. Thousands of new readers? As if the thousands you currently have aren’t enough? The idea of broadening your reader base sounds nice on paper, but what about the readers who’ve supported you from the start? What about the integrity of your work?

“But what about the people who’ve been with me since the beginning?” you ask, voice shaking slightly. “Don’t they deserve to see the series grow, not change into something...plain and unoriginal?”

Your agent’s expression tightens. “Without this kind of direction, there won’t be another book in the series. We can’t keep moving forward unless we adapt.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and you struggle to hold it together. The meeting wraps up soon after, but it feels like you’re in a fog, your thoughts spinning. You want to fight back, to defend your story, but the weight of their words crushes you.

You slouch in your seat still just as confused as you were before. What now?

Whenever something bad happens in your life, you’ve always used writing as an escape. But what are you supposed to do when writing becomes an issue?

Sighing, you open your document, eyes scanning over the words you once felt so confident about. Even now, despite everything, they still feel right. And as you reread where you left off, the next scene unfolds effortlessly in your mind.

You lose yourself in your draft, letting Seungcheol’s words echo in your head—write for yourself, write what you want. For the first time in a while, the words flow without hesitation, without second-guessing. Hours slip away unnoticed as your fingers dance over the keyboard, lost in the world you’re creating.

When Seungcheol returns from his run, you hesitate. The weight of your earlier meeting lingers, but you don’t have the energy to explain the looming uncertainty of your novel. How, depending on what happens next, either your team will break your contract, or your readers will revolt over a boring porn-only sequel. Instead, you keep typing, pushing the thoughts away, if only for a little while longer.

Seungcheol doesn’t need words to know something is wrong. He can sense it. The weight in your shoulders, the distant look in your eyes, the way your fingers hover over your keyboard as if second-guessing every word. It doesn’t take much to assume that your meeting didn’t go well.

He wants to ask, but he also knows you well enough after your short time together to recognize that, right now, you’re not ready to talk about it. Still, that doesn’t mean he won’t do something about it.

He hates seeing you like this. If he could, he’d take your burdens onto his own shoulders without hesitation. He’d do anything to lift your mood, to see your lips curve into a genuine smile again. And if you cried, fuck, if they made you cry? He’d burn the whole damn world down just to set things right.

For now, though, he settles for something smaller. Something simple. He disappears into the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets until he finds what he’s looking for. A few minutes later, the scent of freshly made hot chocolate drifts through the air.

He returns with two full mugs, topped with whipped cream and mini marshmallows. He sets one of the mugs beside you without a word before sinking into the chair across from you.

You sigh, closing your laptop before reaching for the mug. The warmth seeps into your fingers as you take a sip, letting the rich aroma settle some of the unease twisting in your chest.

The two of you sit there in silence, but it’s the comfortable kind. No pressure, no expectations, just the quietness of passing time and the mesmerizing sight of snow falling beyond the window.

When your drinks are finished, Seungcheol takes both mugs to the sink. As he rinses them out, he casually suggests, “You should take a break from writing, clear your head a little.” Then, he turns toward Mika, who’s curled up on the floor. “Mika, wanna go play outside?”

She springs up immediately, her tail wagging as she yaps her answer. He grins. “Tell your mom to get dressed. We wanna play in the snow.”

Mika barks again, turning toward you as if relaying the message. You can’t help but smile.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

Bundling up in your winter gear, the three of you step outside into the crisp mountain air.

Mika takes off instantly, rolling in the fresh snow, kicking it up into the air like a puppy experiencing winter for the first time. She’s gonna be so sad in a few days when it’s time to leave the mountains and head back to the city where it’s already spring.

You laugh, watching her antics until something cold smacks into your side.

You blink, looking down at the splattered bits of snow before turning toward Seungcheol. He’s standing there, hands tucked innocently behind his back, lips pressed together like he’s trying to suppress a smirk.

“Oh, it’s on,” you warn, crouching to scoop up a handful of snow. You bunch it together in your mittens before launching it at him. It hits him square in the chest, and he stumbles back slightly, eyes wide with surprise at your strength

“Cheolmate,” you declare triumphantly, playing on the word checkmate.

His surprise quickly shifts into a determined grin. “Alright, you asked for it.”

Snowballs fly back and forth as laughter fills the backyard. Mika jumps between you both, snapping at the falling snowflakes and occasionally catching a snowball in her mouth, only to crunch it into oblivion.

Eventually, she loses interest in the fight altogether and gets the zoomies, tunneling through the snow and popping her head up every few feet, like a giddy little groundhog.

Seungcheol pauses mid-throw, watching her with amusement. “Your dog is ridiculous.”

You laugh, cheeks flushed from the cold and the playful chaos. “Yeah, but she fits right in.”

Seungcheol chuckles, moving to stand beside you. Watching you smile, hearing your laughter, it’s everything to him. The way your eyes crinkle at the corners as you watch Mika, the way your dimples deepen with each laugh, the way your entire face lights up with unfiltered joy when you meet his eyes. It’s mesmerizing. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

This is exactly what you need. And if he has anything to do with it, he’ll make sure you keep smiling like this. Always.

The snow begins to fall heavier, dusting both of you with a delicate layer of white. Mika is still running circles in the snow, but your focus is on each other now.

Without thinking, Seungcheol pulls off one of his gloves and reaches out, his fingers brushing gently over your face as he wipes away the snowflakes clinging to your eyelashes. His touch lingers, warm against your chilled skin, and his thumb instinctively strokes your cheek.

Your breath catches when his eyes flick down to your lips, and suddenly, the playful atmosphere shifts into something more intense.

Neither of you move for a moment. You stare into each other's eyes as the world around you fades, except for the quiet inhale you take when he slowly leans in.

Before you even realize it, your faces are close enough that his breath fans across your lips.

And then, he finally closes the distance.

His lips press softly against yours; he’s testing the waters and savoring the moment. But the second he feels you respond, the hesitation vanishes. The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, laced with emotions neither of you have dared to voice. His hand cradles your face, fingers brushing along your chilled skin as he tilts your chin, pulling you impossibly closer.

It’s warm, intoxicating, perfect.

Your arms wind around his neck, fingers threading into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your lips. He responds in kind, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, drawing a sinful little moan from deep within you.

Seungcheol smiles into the kiss, reveling in how effortlessly you melt into him. How he somehow knows exactly what you like, what you crave. It’s instinctive, effortless like you were always meant to be right here, in his arms.

The world around you ceases to exist. The snowfall, the cold, the rest of the universe, it all fades into insignificance. There is only him. Only the way he kisses you like you’re the most important thing in the world.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest together, breath mingling in the crisp air. Your heart stammers wildly in your chest as a terrifying, undeniable truth settles in.

Shit.

Day Nine of Surviving Falling For Seungcheol

Ever since you accepted the fact that you have feelings for Seungcheol (very strong feelings, the kind that makes you want to do crazy, reckless, and borderline courageous things) you haven’t been sure how to act around him.

The past two days have been an absolute disaster. You’ve been a clumsy fool, tripping over your own feet, your words, your thoughts. Which, to be fair, isn’t all that different from any other given day. But now? Now it’s worse, because he’s here witnessing it all, and probably very aware of the fact that he’s the one doing it to you.

Yet, Seungcheol is acting completely normal. Like nothing happened. Like that kiss, the one that turned your entire world upside down, didn’t affect him at all.

Unless...it really didn’t affect him.

And in that case, you’re utterly and completely screwed.

You’re not exactly avoiding each other, but neither of you seems willing to make the first move. Or, technically, the second. It’s a silent game of waiting to see who will cave first.

You want to say screw it and just kiss him again. But what if it was a fluke? What if he only kissed you to make you feel better? Then again, who does that? Who kisses someone just to cheer them up? There had to be something behind it. Right?

You don’t know when it happened or how, maybe it was when he pulled you from your wrecked car, or when he made you coffee that first morning, or when he looked at you like that after your kiss.

Or maybe, just maybe, you've felt this way all along…

After helping clean up dinner, you busy yourself putting away the clean dishes. Watching Seungcheol cook is one thing, but watching him do something as simple as washing dishes? That’s an entirely different level of unfair. The way his forearms flex, the way his hand veins pop out as he scrubs a plate clean, it makes you want to throw all logic out the window and climb him like a tree.

Boyfriend material. Without a doubt.

You need to get a grip.

Sensing your stare, he glances over his shoulder, one brow slightly raised, and you immediately whip your head away. Play it cool. You suddenly need a distraction, so you head to the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water—except, of course, the one you want is just out of reach.

Before you can even debate climbing onto the counter, Seungcheol is there, stepping in behind you without hesitation.

“Here, I got it.”

He moves in close, his chest nearly brushing against your back as he stretches over you. One hand instinctively finds your waist to steady himself, his fingers warm even through the fabric of your shirt. The brief contact sends a jolt through you, but before you can dwell on it, he grabs the bottle and hands it over.

You barely have time to mutter a thanks before your grip fails you and the cold bottle slips from your fingers, tumbling to the floor.

With a sigh, you bend down to retrieve it only to realize that Seungcheol hasn’t stepped back as far as you thought. Your ass brushes against his thigh, and the accidental touch sends a shockwave through both of you.

Startled, you jolt upright, only to whack your head against the counter.

“Shit—are you okay?” Seungcheol asks, immediately reaching for you.

“I’m okay, really,” you insist, waving him off despite the way your face flames with embarrassment.

…

Seungcheol feels bad, really bad. He can’t shake the thought that this is his fault. You seem so uncomfortable around him now that you’re practically injuring yourself just trying to avoid him. At least, that’s what he assumes.

Every time he speaks to you or even just walks by, he notices the way you tense up, how your responses are shorter than usual, like you’re trying to keep him at arm’s length. And it kills him.

But a part of him, a hopeful part, wants to believe that you’re not uncomfortable because you regret the kiss. Maybe you’re feeling the same way he does, wanting more but unsure how to ask for it.

He’s trying to be considerate, giving you space, not wanting to pressure you into anything. But at the same time, he’s starting to second-guess everything. Are your subtle reactions just in his head? Is he reading too much into the way your eyes linger on him, the way your breath hitches when he gets too close?

Or is he not imagining it at all?

He’s gotta do something to figure you out. That’s his only option at this point. If you’d just give him the smallest hint that you want him, he’ll take the lead—gladly. He’ll show you exactly what happens when you both stop tiptoeing around whatever this is and finally give in.

“You know,” you say suddenly, breaking the silence, “Besides the fact that we’ve been stuck together for the last week, we don’t actually know a whole lot about each other.”

Seungcheol finishes rinsing out the sink, dries his hands on a dish towel, and turns to lean against the counter. He crosses his arms before suggesting something, “Huh, you have a point. Maybe we should change that. Let’s play a game.”

You narrow your eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare,” he says, failing to hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

You huff out a laugh. “Really? That’s what we’re going with?”

“Yep. Unless you’re scared.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine. You go first, then.”

“Dare.” He doesn’t hesitate.

You think for a moment, then grin. “I dare you to call your mom so I can talk to her again. I’m sure she’s got quite a few stories of you to share.”

One of his eyebrows arches before he lets out a chuckle. “Or?”

“Or, if you pass, you have to take a drink.”

Seungcheol snorts, shaking his head. “Hand me a drink then, hun.”

It slips out so naturally, so effortlessly, that he doesn’t even try to recover from it. Why should he? You’ve got an entire arsenal of nicknames for him, what’s the big deal if he throws one back?

His eyes trail down your backside as you turn to the fridge, returning with two beers. He watches the way you move, how your shirt lifts up just slightly when you grab the bottles, revealing a little slice of skin where he’d like to place his lips.

Seungcheol swallows hard and extends his hand out for one of the beers when you turn back around. “Under any other circumstances, I’d let you chat with my mom,” he says with a teasing smile. “But not tonight.” He cracks open the bottle, his gaze locked on yours as he lifts it to his lips.

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your drink to settle your nerves.

“Alright, your turn now.”

“Truth,” you say, chickening out.

He grins, sensing your hesitation. “When was the last time you went on a date?”

You groan, “Oh god. The day we met, actually. I ripped my pants escaping through the restaurant’s bathroom window, that’s how bad the date was.”

Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head. That absolutely sounds like something you’d do.

“Kate set me up with the guy, and it was a total disaster. He was rude, his manners were just for show, and it felt like every nice thing he did came with an expectation. Like if he opened the door for me, I owed him something in return, you know?”

Seungcheol's grip tightens around his beer bottle. He does know. And the thought of some guy treating you like that makes his blood boil.

“Okay, your turn again.”

“Truth.”

“Why did you kiss me?” you blurt out.

Seungcheol meets your gaze, his expression is soft but unwavering. “Because I really wanted to,” he admits, remembering every little detail of that kiss. Like how warm you were, how perfectly you fit in his arms, how he hadn’t been able to think about anything else since.

Your breath hitches for a moment, but you quickly recover. “Dare.”

A wild thought crosses his mind, and once it’s there, he can’t shake it. He leans in slightly, watching you carefully. “I dare you to finish your drink and then join me in the hot tub.”

The challenge in his voice sends a thrill down your spine. Without hesitation, you tip your head back, downing the rest of your beer. Then, without breaking eye contact, you peel off your shirt, revealing the sheer bra underneath.

“You coming?” you ask playfully, tossing your shirt aside and heading toward the backyard.

Seungcheol just stands there for a second, his brain short-circuiting. He was expecting a little resistance, maybe a joke, but this? Oh, this is so much better.

Swallowing hard, he follows you onto the deck, where you’re slipping off your pants. Fuck. He quickly removes the hot tub cover while you turn it on. The air might be a little chilly, but his body is running hot.

And then you bend over to test the water temperature, still in nothing but your bra and panties, and Seungcheol has to force himself to look anywhere else. If someone had told him earlier today that by nightfall, he’d be out here with you, watching you strip down like it was the most natural thing in the world, he’d have laughed.

But now? Now, he’s just thanking whatever divine force made this his lucky day.

He tosses his shirt aside, then his pants, barely paying attention to where they land. What he does pay attention to, though, is the way your eyes rake over him, the way your breath quickens for just a second. Another perk of being a firefighter is that the hard training keeps you in shape. All those workouts? Yeah, they were worth it just for this moment, just to see you looking at him like that.

���Help me in?” you ask, reaching out.

He takes your hand without hesitation, steadying you as you step up and lower yourself into the steaming, bubbling water. His grip lingers for just a second longer than necessary before he follows you in, sighing as the heat works into his muscles.

“This is nice,” he says, settling in, tilting his head back against the edge. The jets work at the tension in his lower back, but the real relief is sitting across from him, grinning like you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Mmm, it really is,” you hum in agreement. Then, with a mischievous, playful glint in your eye, you remind him, “It’s your turn, by the way.”

Oh, right. The game.

“Dare,” he says, smirking, willing to test just how far you’re willing to push this thing between the two of you.

Your grin deepens. “Take off your boxers.”

He arches a brow, amused but not remotely hesitant. Maintaining eye contact, he lifts his hips just enough to slide the soaked fabric down his legs and tosses them onto the deck with the rest of his clothes. The water swirls around him, warm and teasing, but nothing about this feels as thrilling as the way your smile slowly spreads, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you watch him.

“I didn’t think you actually would,” you tease.

He leans in just a little, voice low, teasing right back. “One thing you should know about me, sweetheart,” his smirk turns positively sinful, “I never turn down a challenge.”

You roll your eyes and splash water in his face. "Coupsie Daisy, my bad," you half-heartedly apologize, even though you’re anything but sorry.

Seungcheol wipes the water from his face slowly, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he stares at you with darkened eyes. The playful banter between you shifts into something heavier.

Without overthinking, you move. Climbing onto his lap, your knees press into the seat on either side of him, your barely-there panties doing nothing to hide how hard he already is beneath you. A shaky breath leaves your lips at the contact, and you feel the way his grip tightens on your waist, the way his fingertips begin to trace the curve of your spine.

There’s no pretending now. No more second-guessing. Your bodies are reacting on instinct, drawn to each other like it’s inevitable.

His voice is lower when he finally speaks, his breath warm against your lips. "Are we really going to do this?"

“That depends,” you whisper, rolling your hips just enough to make his fingers dig into your skin. “Is it a dare?”

His jaw clenches. “Do you want it to be?”

“No,” you breathe, tilting forward, your lips brushing against his. “I just want you.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs.

Seungcheol crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your gasp as his hands roam your back, pulling you in until there’s no space left between you.

This kiss is nothing like the last. That one had been sweet and gentle. But this? This is fire, hunger, and need all wrapped into one.

You moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating between you, sending a shiver straight to his cock. The reaction is immediate, and he twitches beneath you, hard and heavy against your core.

You roll your hips again, relishing the way he groans against your lips. “Fuck, you feel so big,” you murmur between feverish kisses, your voice laced with desperation.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, deepening the kiss as his fingers reach behind you. With practiced fingers, he unclasps your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders and down your arms before it disappears into the water.

Seungcheol pulls back just enough to take you in, his gaze hungry as it rakes over your bare chest. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he breathes, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

Then, without warning, he dips his head down, capturing one in his mouth. The heat of his tongue swirls around the sensitive nub before he sucks, making you arch into him with a soft whimper. He moves to the other, giving it just as much attention, his teeth grazing teasingly before soothing the sting with his tongue.

Your fingers sink into his damp hair, nails scratching against his scalp as you pant, “Cheol, I need more.”

Your hand drifts between your bodies, wrapping around his stiff length beneath the water. The moment your fingers curl around him, a deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest. And that’s when he just about loses it.

“Wait,” he rasps against your lips, pulling back just enough to press his forehead against yours. His breath is ragged, his self-control hanging by a thread. “Wait, baby. Not here.”

His fingers grip your hips, keeping you steady as he stands, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck as he carries you inside.

His lips find yours again as he moves, each step purposeful. He’s determined. The cool air of the house is a stark contrast to the heat rolling off both of you, but it only makes you cling to him tighter.

He doesn’t stop until he reaches your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Then, with a wicked smirk, he lays you down on the bed, hovering over you with darkened eyes full of promise.

"Now," he murmurs, brushing his lips along your jaw, down your neck, "Let me show you how much I want you."

His lips reconnect with your breast, tongue tracing delicate circles over your sensitive skin, while his hand continues its descent. His fingers skim over your stomach, teasing along the waistband of your soaked panties before slipping beneath them.

A small gasp leaves your lips when he pushes the fabric aside, his fingers sliding effortlessly through your slick folds.

Seungcheol pulls back just slightly, his heated gaze locked onto your face as he curls his fingers into you, slow and deliberate. He watches the way your brows furrow, your mouth parting in a silent moan, completely captivated by how responsive you are to him.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he repeats, voice thick with desire as he leans in, capturing your lips once more.

The pressure in your core builds rapidly, his fingers coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. Every movement, every stroke, brings you closer and closer to the edge. Your whole body tightens in anticipation. You’re right there—

Suddenly, the sharp chime of your ringtone cuts through the air, breaking the spell between you both. Your breath is still ragged as your eyes snap to your phone on the nightstand, Kate’s photo lighting up the screen.

Seungcheol tears away from you like shrapnel, realization washing over him as he runs a hand through his damp hair. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and for a moment, he just stares at the phone, then back at you, still spread beneath him, panting, needy.

“You should probably answer that,” he says, voice rough as he clears his throat. He hesitates for only a second before adding, “Maybe we should call it a night.”

Before you can protest, he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, as if to ground himself, before stepping back and leaving you sitting there, exposed and still trembling from the almost earth-shattering orgasm you were supposed to have.

With a deep breath, you shake yourself out of your daze and reach for the phone.

“Hello?” you answer, voice still breathless.

Kate doesn’t seem to notice. “I have good news! Surgery went well, and we should be home sooner than we thought. I’ll know more tomorrow, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

She continues explaining the procedure, detailing what the surgeons discovered and their plan moving forward, but you’re only half-listening.

Your body is still buzzing, your mind stuck on the way Seungcheol had just touched you, the way he looked at you like you were something he wanted to consume entirely.

And worse than that? The way you still want him right this minute.

“That’s great news. I’m sure Jun is relieved.”

“He is,” Kate says, her voice lighter than it has been in days. Then, after a brief pause, she adds, “Now, want to tell me what took you so long to answer? I called twice.”

Your stomach flips. “Oh, um. I was just busy doing…chores…” you lie, hoping she doesn’t catch the slight tremor in your voice.

Kate is silent for a second, and you can practically hear the smirk forming on her lips. “Oh really? Chores? Is that Cheol’s newest nickname?”

Your mouth falls open. “Shut up,” you grumble, face burning.

She just cackles. “Mm-hmm. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“Yeah, yeah, bye.”

“Bye! And don’t forget to use protection!” she sings before hanging up.

You groan, tossing your phone onto the bed, and flopping down beside it. Of course, she figured it out. Sisterly intuition should be illegal.

After a deep breath, you drag yourself up and crack your door open, peeking into the hallway. Seungcheol’s door is shut. He’s probably already asleep.

With a sigh, you change into your pajamas, leaving your door slightly ajar. Not just for Mika when she finally decides to come to bed, but for him, too. You know, just in case.

But the house stays quiet, and the only visitor to your room that night is Mika, who hops onto the bed and curls up at your feet.

Still, as you settle under the covers, your mind drifts back to the heat of Seungcheol’s hands, the weight of his body, the hunger in his gaze.

You fall asleep thinking about all the ways he could satisfy you. would satisfy you, if only you’d had just a little more time.

→ READ PART 2 ⟡⋆⟡ SERIES MLIST ←

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[frudoo]

I need the 141 as a group of slashers. Their shared wife gets harassed at the store and tells them when she gets home?

Might send more asks for slasher 141 if that's okay

You can ALWAYS send me slasher!141 ideas are you joking?!

Warnings: Mentions of sexual harassment (NOT by the 141), typical mentions of weapons and violence. Fem!Reader.

It’s pouring down freezing rain, the cold seemingly nudging past your skin and settling itself into your bones. Your hands shake as you fumble with your keys, letting out a defeated wail when you miss the lock for the fifth fucking time. Throwing your keys in your purse, you settle for knocking, then calling out that it’s just you. You’d rather not have one of your lovers answering the door with a machete to your throat. They always have had a flair for the dramatic. 

     It’s John who answers the door. Immediately he takes in your shivering figure and his bushy eyebrows furrow with concern. Scanning the vast land of the farm and finding nothing that could be perceived as a threat, he gently takes the purse from your hands. Strong arms hustle you inside and he kicks the door shut, working quickly to get you out of your sopping wet clothes. 

     “Darlin’, what happened? Why’re you cryin’?” John asks softly, hanging your coat on the rack—he can tell it’s bad by the way you flinch just from the question. 

     Simon, Johnny, and Kyle trail into the living room to greet you, but when they see your state, it’s like you can feel the tension in the air, ready to snap like a weathered rubber band. Simon comes to scoop you up, uncaring of the drenched clothes you still have on, and carries you up the stairs. He jerks his head to signal that everyone else should follow him. 

     While Kyle runs you a bath, John finishes undressing you, tossing your clothing into the hamper with a wet plop. You’re still shivering, tears streaming down your chilly cheeks, and it breaks their hearts. John cups your face in his big, warm hands, crystal blue eyes scanning for injuries or any reason you might be so spooked. 

     “You gonna answer my question, sweetheart? What’s happened?” 

     His voice is soothing, and you lean into the comfort of his touch. He always has been the best at calming you down, rich gravel filling your ears until you remember how cherished you are in his eyes. In all of their eyes. 

     “T-there was a man,” you stutter, head whipping around violently with your fist raised when Johnny wraps an arm around your waist to help you into the bath. “No!”

     “Hey, hey, jus’ me, hen,” Johnny’s eyes widen as he throws his hands up in surrender, backing away to avoid getting hit. 

     “I’m sorry,” you weep, covering your face with your trembling hands as Johnny tries again, this time successful in getting you settled into the warm water. 

     “Wha’ did he do?” Simon’s raspy voice sounds from the corner of the room, eerily calm. “Wha’ did tha’ fucker do?” 

     “The man… I-I was at the store to get groceries, but there was- he… he grabbed my ass and my tits and f-followed me out to the car. I drove away really fast so he couldn’t come after me, but… I’m sorry, I didn’t get the groceries.”

     “Oh, sweetheart,” Kyle frowns, gently reaching out to grab a hold of one of your hands. “The fuckin’ groceries are the least of our concerns.”

     You nod noncommittally, sniffling and just barely squeezing Kyle’s hand to let him know you appreciate the gesture. John’s jaw is clenched tight, and you can practically hear the rage brewing in his brain. Such a sweet thing traumatized by some stupid fuck who wanted his hands full of their soft, perfect girl. He wants—needs—to make him pay. John turns on his heel and just about rushes through the door, but your gentle voice stops him in his tracks.

     “John? Please stay,” you beg so, so prettily, pouty lips still swollen from how hard you’d been crying, and John’s far too weak a man to deny you. 

     Hesitantly, the captain trails back inside the bathroom, giving the other three a curt nod. They understand instantly, and Simon is cracking his knuckles so loud you’re almost sure the city can hear it. 

     “Bring the bastard back alive,” John commands, and faster than you can blink, Kyle, Simon, and Johnny are out the door.

     “I’m sorry,” you whisper, eyes focused on the ripple of the bathwater when you submerge your hands.

     John shakes his head, tilting your chin up so that you look him in the eye. He leans forward and nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours, a silent question. When you nod he leans in to kiss you long and slow, pressing his forehead against yours as the two of you stop to catch a breath.

     “No need to be sorry, sweet girl. You’ll get a turn on him soon enough.”

[spontaneousful]

blonde

Fun new challenge!

Describe Apple White without using the words; nuance, complex, layered or interesting

DIFFICULTY LEVEL: EXTREME

[gay-dorito-dust]

Isekai Reader, was possessed by Martha to talk to her son Bruce but as soon as Martha touch Reader, a liquid substance came out of Reader mouth taking in the form of Martha from head to upper body while looking completely possessed like that is not normal possession..

Alfred, giving them a wipe: are you alright?

Isekai Reader: no the lady came out of my fucking mouth, I never thought I would've been traumatized even more but here we are

Isekai reader: she said she will borrow my body and I thought it was a normal possession! Have I known that would happen I wouldn't be able to refuse either way...

Alfred, raise a brow: and why is that?

Isekai reader, on the verge of tears: she might cry and she was so nice

Meanwhile

Bruce: mama... *was too preoccupied to the sight of his mother that he didn't notice*

His kids on the other hand..

Dick: I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight

Duke: I am a bit concerned-

Jason: that was... a bit disturbing..

Cassandra:.... ew..

Damian, looks unfaze on the outside but is disturb on the inside: so that is what grandma sounds like

Tim: ....*sips the remnants of his coffee*

Stephanie: why did I chose to come and visit today?

Barbara, watched through a computer: did their throat hurt?

Isekai Reader: can I please get an ice cream and be left alone to sulk?

Isekai! Reader/you: *crying while holding their big ass plushie* I fucking hate ghost possession, why can’t it be the boring kind of possession!

Dick: *pats their back* there there.

Jason: *brings them a blanket and drapes it over their shoulders* first time for everything.

Duke: *bringing them a tube of ice cream* everything will be fine…hopefully.

Damian: I’m not good with comforting others. *brings out Titus who makes himself comfortable on isekai! Reader’s lap*

Cassandra: I wish I could say it won’t happen again…but it will and hopefully we won’t all be traumatised…again.

Stephanie: how does watching some videos of these doofuses falling sound? *gets her phone out and starts showing funny videos of everyone -except Dick- falling on their asses*

Isekai! Reader/you: you’re all shit at comforting people but I’ll take what I can get from a family of emotionally stunted vigilantes.

…

Damian: isn’t ghostly possession an agreement on both sides?

Isekai! Reader/ you: not exactly in most cases but with your grandmother, yes.

Damian: you didn’t reject her.

Isekai! Reader/you: she’s too lovely of a woman to reject as after every possession she feels bad and I have to tell her it’s okay.

*flashback to after Martha possessed reader to talk to Bruce*

Isekai!reader/ you: *on the floor, holding your knees to your chest as you stare blankly into the distance*

Martha: I’m sorry! I didn’t think it would happen like that! I thought I would just take over your body and not like that!

Isekai! Reader/ you: it’s okay…I’m fine really just…just a little traumatised and am never going to trust any ghost possession scenes ever again cuz that was utter bullshit.

*back to Damian and isekai! Reader/you*

Damian: …we shall speak of this no longer.

Isekai! Reader/you: for once I agree with you demon spawn.

..

Isekai! Reader/ you: *petting Titus and Ace while Alfred the cat sat on your lap* this is nice.

*Terry the turkey walks past you, stops and looks at you*🦃

Isekai! Reader/you: *blinks* hi

Terry the turkey: 🦃 *walks off*

Isekai! Reader: you: fucking rich people and their weird ass animals.

[sakur4ii]

Code Name: Rabbit

Chapter 3: Beginnings.

Warning⚠️: Death and traumatic experience. ←previous next→

You hissed every time Lyara passed the gauze over the wound to disinfect it.

“Don’t be a baby.”

“Then don’t be rough,” you reproached with a pout. She rolled her eyes.

“I’m doing it with as much care as possible.”

She continued passing the gauze, falling back into a comfortable silence as you bit the inside of your cheek to hold back the pain.

“[Name]...” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to turn 18 soon, and I was thinking maybe… we could open a nightclub.”

Lyara said it with all the sincerity in the world, catching you off guard. Unintentionally, you let out a laugh, earning a frown from her and a harder press on your face’s wound. You hissed again.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she took pity and continued disinfecting more carefully.

“I’ve always wanted to create a place full of fun, but also a refuge for people who need it. I’ve even thought of making it a safe place for women who are prostituting, take them off the streets, and give them a decent salary.”

You nodded, understanding what she meant. Typical Lyara.

“I suppose you already have a place in mind.”

Lyara struggled between whether to tell you or not. You could see indecision on her face. For someone who had spent most of her life in theater, she was never good at hiding things from you, even after a little over a year of being friends. You raised an eyebrow.

Before speaking, the girl with pink-tipped hair bit her lip.

“It’s a building in The Narrows…”

You understood her hesitation. A few months ago, you’d confided that you grew up there and that your mother lost her life there. You had also told her that your mother prostituted herself when you were little, and that you’d love to do something for the women who resort to that option. That’s why she trusted you with this, because you both had similar ideas.

Lyara’s nervousness was also because she thought she had crossed a line, that maybe she was being too intense or too familiar. She feared you might leave her too, just like her old friends and her older sister did.

Noticing the tremble in her hands, you took the one still disinfecting the wound. With warmth and care, you placed it against your cheek, resting it on the palm of her hand and tracing gentle circles. The act calmed her, and told her everything she needed to know.

Minutes later, you spoke.

“We could also create a club for the rich to steal information from and sell it,” you joked with a playful smile, but you didn’t expect the way her eyes lit up.

“You’re a genius!” she said, pulling her hand away from your face to give a slap.

“What?” You looked at her with horror and confusion. You were just joking.

She placed her hands on your shoulders and brought her face close to yours, rubbing noses.

“You just gave me an incredible idea.”

You still remember how your heart raced, how nervous and shy you became in a matter of seconds, and the warmth that rose to your face. But Lyara was too distracted to notice.

---

The sound of the clock fills the room, the man sitting in the interrogation room is nervous, his leg keeps bouncing under the table. He seems spaced out, his eyes looking at everything and nothing at once. His forehead is shiny, he keeps sweating, but it’s exaggerated, he seems like he’s going to drown in his own sweat.

With Barbara watching from the cameras and listening through the communicator, Red Robin walks into the room with confidence. Behind the one-way mirror is Commissioner Gordon, who has given him permission to be the one to interrogate Elliot Gravois.

“The detective boy! What a surprise, I gave you a good fight, didn’t I?” The redhead exclaims, his leg still bouncing, the sweat obvious, and now there’s one more detail: his pupils are dilated.

“You were pathetic, and a waste of time. Now tell me, why did you kidnap that girl?” Tim takes his most intimidating pose and his most serious tone.

“That’s not the right question, vigilante,” the man licks his dry lips. “You want to know where the other women are? Why, out of all of them, only one has been found dead?” Elliot laughs, causing Tim to furrow his brow deeper.

“Red Robin, be careful, Elliot Gravois is showing signs of being drugged.”

Drugged? He was perfectly sober when Tim knocked him out.

“Then tell me, and stop wasting time.”

Elliot licks his dry lips again before speaking.

“He likes to send messages,” the redhead begins laughing hysterically. “I should have known…,” he slams his fist on the table. “He was just using me! He swore they would respect me! That I’d finally make my grandfather proud! He swore he’d fix my father’s mistakes… But he lied! HAHA!” Elliot starts banging his head against the table.

Red Robin reacts quickly, kicking the table away from the man.

“They’re everywhere! Everywhere! Not just women, also meta-humans, children, immigrants—anything that makes them money! They’re all liars, they all lie.” He starts swaying in his chair, his eyes wild as he looks Red Robin in the eye.

“Why did you kidnap that girl? Why did you kill Beatriz Sullivan? Who is ‘he’?” Tim tries, growing nervous. Elliot didn’t act like this during the fight, he didn’t show any signs of being drugged, what happened during the 15 minutes Tim didn’t supervise him?

“It was all a message. He just wanted to bring ‘her’ into the game, he asked me to write it, to blackmail that boy, he asked—he asked—...”

Elliot starts convulsing, foam coming out of his mouth, and Red Robin stands horrified. The door to the interrogation room suddenly bursts open behind him, several agents and doctors rush in, running toward the convulsing man on the floor.

Red Robin was about to leave, but someone grabs his wrist. He turns to look at the man, who in his last moment of sanity and with his final breath says:

“Find Rabbit in the Forbidden Garden.”

---

“Well, what do we have?” Batman asks.

“Lyara Valtieri, the kidnapped girl, owns a nightclub in The Narrows, it’s called ‘The Burrow,’ and it was there that Beatriz Sullivan’s mutilated and murdered body was found,” Oracle gathers the information.

“At the hospital, Valtieri said she didn’t know who her kidnapper was, and she didn’t seem to know what B. was talking about when she asked her about the person who saved her, so she was probably unconscious the entire time.”

“She lied about something, but I’m not sure what,” Batman crosses his arms.

“There was also someone else in the room, but Valtieri made sure it was hard to see them.”

“Probably her emergency contact. I’ll look into it, but I don’t think it’s important.”

Nightwing nods, satisfied.

The three heads turn to see Red Robin, who is staring at a fixed point on the floor.

“Tim?” Dick called.

“Elliot Gravois mentioned that ‘they’ don’t just kidnap women, they also kidnap children and meta-humans. He mentioned a ‘he’ who likes to ‘send messages,’ and that he wanted to bring ‘her’ into ‘the game.’ He said to look for Rabbit in the Forbidden Garden, but I still don’t know if he was delirious or serious.”

Barbara looks at him with concern.

“He also mentioned that ‘he’ forced him to write it. I wondered what he meant, and I checked the files. Turns out the police hid a detail from the case. In the same place where Beatriz Sullivan’s body was found, there was a message written in blood that said ‘Happy Birthday.’ I think it’s an important clue to consider.” Everyone agrees with Barbara.

“This is enough for today. Tomorrow, we’ll continue investigating. Oracle, Nightwing, you’ll look for ‘Rabbit’ and ‘The Forbidden Garden.’ Red Robin, tomorrow it’s your turn for a normal patrol. You’ll relieve Batgirl.”

Tim nods, and they all disperse, calling it a night.

---

It’s been a week since the kidnapping. Four days ago, Lyara was discharged from the hospital, and it’s been hard keeping her at home. Things at The Burrow have been calm, one of the girls had a military friend who was looking for work, so you gave her the available security position, but of course, you investigated her first. The Forbidden Garden is closed for a while, so you can trust the girls to supervise the nightclub.

At home, Lyara and you are investigating to pass the time. This is the information you have:

You snuck into the precinct, getting a copy of the interrogation tapes with Elliot Gravois without being caught. Lyara discovered that behind the images and reports, there’s a human trafficking network, a case Batman has been investigating for months, but just recently, more clues came to light.

Together, you’ve found people from the Forbidden Garden who could be involved, creating a list of suspects. You realized Elliot had more information than he let on, but it’s located in his father’s abandoned properties, who has been missing for over a year. You made sure to always arrive before any of the bats. Surprisingly, they seem to know almost as much as you.

Lyara has suggested going back to the mansion, using the Batcomputer, and obtaining all the information your father has on the case. You know how to do it without getting caught; after all, you erased your digital footprint. But you're afraid you'll be caught, you're afraid Alfred will catch you. You left without thinking twice, and sometimes you feel guilty for that...

You leave Lyara at The Burrow, wait until she enters the building, then start the car engine and drive toward the location of what seems to be an abandoned warehouse.

——————————————

The place is filled with wooden crates, the smell of gunpowder reaches your nostrils. You're on the ceiling beams, wearing your mask and dressed in black, being as stealthy as possible. It's daytime, so no bats should come. Below you, an illegal arms deal is taking place. You don't care, but the warehouse is registered under one of the many aliases of Elliot Gravois' father.

You crawl along the beams, trying to get a better angle. You don't want to be seen, but you need to listen.

From where you are, you can clearly see the faces of the men. They're not wearing masks, they speak calmly, but it's just an act. You can see the sellers are tense, they keep looking at something in the distance, but you can't see what they're looking at. You can't hear them very well; for some reason, they're speaking too quietly, and the echo makes the words unintelligible.

One of the buyers approaches a box and opens it, causing a discussion. You guess something's wrong with the merchandise. The sellers are much more tense now, and the buyers are very angry.

A blink, and the shouting starts. Screams of agony and horror flood the warehouse. The buyers run away, and the sellers just stare in horror at one of their colleagues. An axe is lodged in the seller's forehead. You look in horror, frantically searching for the killer. A tall, burly man approaches the dead body. The sellers ran away as soon as they saw him. You can see flashes from the metal mask covering the lower half of his face, his long dark coat, and his black gloves... you recognize this man.

Your heart starts to beat too fast, your breath accelerates. Why is it so hard to breathe all of a sudden? Your hands tremble, and you can feel tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

Suddenly, you’re 17 again.

It was an ordinary day at Gotham Academy, or well, what became ordinary after Jason’s death. You were on autopilot, down and not really thinking about anything, you couldn’t even concentrate on that afternoon’s gym class, much less the Taekwondo competition the next day. Jason’s birthday was approaching, your twin, your blood brother, the only person who truly understood you and cared about you when you first arrived at the mansion.

The only thing in your mind at that moment was Jason and... your family. Bruce had pulled further away from you, Dick didn’t even remember you, Alfred tried to be there but seeing you was painful for him, and now Tim, that kid who came in and made space in the hearts of all three, he came and suddenly he was what Bruce needed. But he never bothered with you, not because he didn’t want to, but you’ll never know that.

You were in the bathroom, washing your hands, when suddenly you heard an explosion. Screams of horror and agony followed. You turned off the faucet and ran to a stall, locking the door. At that moment, your thoughts went wild. If someone came in, you could defend yourself. You weren’t your father, but you had knowledge, skills... and if you had a gun or a bow, you’d feel confident and secure. But the others didn’t have any of that, so with a sigh and gathering courage, you stepped out of the stall and decided to help.

Stealthily but keenly, you started helping your classmates escape and hide. A girl with brown hair and pink-tipped ends, blue eyes, and covered in ash and soot grabbed your shoulders, her expression full of fear.

“We have to get out of here. There’s a guy with an axe and bombs everywhere.” She shouted, grabbed your wrist, and started running.

Suddenly, a nearby explosion sent both of you flying. You were disoriented, but you couldn’t see the girl through all the smoke. Without warning, someone grabbed you by the hair and forcefully pushed you to the ground.

In front of you stood a very tall, burly man, wearing a tank top, scars on his arms, and a metal mask covering the lower half of his face. You began to crawl backward, creating distance, but he just laughed.

“Don’t run, little one. I’m not going to kill you…” His words didn’t relax you. “I’m just going to play with you.”

You looked at him in horror, not knowing what he meant, and not wanting to find out. You wanted to run, defend yourself, but suddenly all your skills disappeared, your knowledge locked away in a box with a padlock, and your body didn’t respond to any of your commands.

The man didn’t raise the axe, no. It came from below, from your lips to your eyebrow. You screamed in pain, the blood obstructing your vision, and he just laughed, his raspy laugh echoing in your mind. The cold steel of the axe pressed into your forehead. He didn’t stab you; he just pushed your head back to mock you, to humiliate you.

You couldn’t focus on what he said afterward. You didn’t notice when he left, or when the girl from before dragged you out of the place. You only remember waking up in the hospital, with only Alfred in the room, unable to see out of your right eye for two weeks.

You snap back to the present when you hear an echo in the warehouse, a very clear voice speaking alone.

You look down again. The man is no longer there, nor his axe, just the dead body and the pile of crates. You don’t know how long you were paralyzed, lost in bad memories, but long enough for a vigilante to enter the warehouse.

This vigilante’s suit is yellow, too bright for your liking. The vigilante talks to himself, analyzing the body on the floor, but when he turns to examine the rest of the warehouse, your jaw drops. A bat symbol rests on his chest, and in your mind, one thought runs through your head: “Another one?”

Your father loves adopting stray dogs, doesn’t he? But he was never able to take care of his own daughter... ironic.

You start breathing normally again, not trembling as much as before, but the fear still lingers in your chest. You turn to leave the warehouse, but near the ceiling window, there's a note with a drawing of a rabbit...

——————————————

He enters the office with determination, the music fades, and the cold runs down his body.

“Nightwing… I was expecting you.”

——————————————

@anamiranda7383 @crystal-freak24 @serlazvi @regloml @jscrawls @cxcilla @heartjwonie @pix-stuff @hjgdhghoe @ritzes28 @zlovesreading @astrelz @omnivirgo @onlybe-satanonce @coffeeaddictxd @camilo-uwu @buddee @gaychaosgremlin @shirp-collector-of-fixations @ihavedesserts @sparks0918

[crepezinhos]

hello hello, i really love how you write yandere scara!! we love a miserable, loser, simp, and lovesick scara in this household!! 😍 i hope you continue to make more yandere scara content in the near future because i am very much obsessed with how you write him! i especially really love how you write him as a crazy rich guy that would 101% spoiled his lover rotten to the core 😍 (idk, it just seems very hot to me). keep up the good work and please continue feeding the hungry pigeons 😋 (its me, i am the pigeon)

Me and My Husband

(REQUEST #5) POV: How does Scaramouche act as a husband for his so-loved and traumatized reader after the so-awaited marriage? (Or just YandereHusband!Scaramouche thoughts)

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— Mostly a SFW post, but there are explicit NSFW parts

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— This is a Yandere work, so there is a lot of toxic and manipulative behavior.

— Contains mentions of depression, self-hatred and suicide.

— Reading of the original post and prequel is absolutely advised

You really thought that this whole idea of marrying someone by force was going to be terrible. You now thought of Scaramouche as this maniac who just wants to abuse you until death, but he actually proved to be the complete opposite of what you thought. You didn’t know this at first, but during the actual marriage, he took every single word from the priest to his heart as he stared at your fake smile. He was truly determined to follow all those duties of a husband in the traditional church even if you would not follow the rules of a traditional wife.

As soon as you arrived home after all that partying and drinking, you smile faded away and you went to rest in your bed. Scaramouche even tried sneaking closer to you when he went to bed too, but you stopped him right he away and made him sleep in the corner of the bed, turned away from you.

As expected, things started off really bad. You would flinch to his touches, look away from his eyes, not smile at anything at all... you were crushed and exhausted in any way. The fact that society criticized the way you acted in that marriage and that paparazzi would never leave you alone was genuinely making you think about ending your life.

“What’s so special in that girl, Kuni?! She’s a talentless designer and an indecent lady who’s most likely a filthy gold-digger! She doesn’t even try to hide it, Kuni.” You heard his mother, Raiden Ei, scream to Scaramouche during a discussion in her office that you weren’t supposed to hear.

Incredibly, Raiden Ei did not know about the deal behind your marriage.

“I’m sorry, I’m just very surprised that someone so demanding as Kuni fell in love with such a random person... I mean, Kujou Sara has liked him ever since they were kids… so I don’t know why he didn’t choose her…” Yae Miko, another powerful economist in Japan, commented to you in a party.

“It is a pity that Kunikuzushi didn’t mind your status when he chose to marry you.” Kujou Sara insulted looking up and down at you, clearly offended by your existence.

“So many women begging to have a chance with him and he decided to marry a robot 😭🙏” A comment on a TikTok post talking about Raiden Ei’s son’s marriage.

That specific comment on the internet made you cry for barely an hour. You really wish you could scream at everyone how you do not give a shit or that the marriage was forced upon you… or the energy to smile at cameras and make it look like that you and Scaramouche are doing fine, but you simply couldn’t, and you didn’t have anyone to vent to anymore. Your boyfriend got mad at the way you simply broke up with him and cut contact and your friends didn’t understand your change in mood too and decided to let you go. Your parents were the only ones, aside of Scaramouche, who understood you, but they couldn’t do much for you rather than answer your phone calls and visit you every once in a while to check up on you.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Scaramouche suddenly opened the room’s door with a plastic bag in his hands and met your crying figure, getting extremely worried at it. “Hey… no need to cry…” He whispered as he kneeled down by your side and hugged you by your neck, reassuring you that you weren’t alone. “Here… I brought this for you if it might make you any happier...” He whispered as he pulled the same plastic bag to give it to you.

Flowers, sweets, souvenirs, jewelry, tickets to things you like and many other kinds of gifts were brought to you in a daily basis, and they incredibly made you smile sometimes, you loved sweets after all…

But yes, his willingness to spoil you was the first step to get your life back in track.

Your honeymoon was wonderful and beautiful. Two weeks in Paris in first-class private planes. You didn’t think much about why Scaramouche chose that place until your guide brought you to the mansion of one of your favorite designers, Chiori, during an expedition day. You were barely panicking as you said your first words to her, but that awkwardness soon ended. Scaramouche quietly watched you talk to her about fashion all day, extremely proud of himself for making you truthfully smile. According to Chiori in a private conversation with him that happened after you met her, you had good ideas in mind for fashion, but none of it was somehow innovating. Those words of confirmation made Scaramouche finally go to the next step, which was giving you all the power you needed to start your own business.

Keeping someone busy with any kind of work might make a depressed person’s life have a meaning, such as owning a project or taking care of a pet.

Because of the influence your upcoming business had with the Raiden bank and family, it was successful in its opening, but it obviously decreased due to the lack of innovation. It didn’t matter to you, after all, you never wanted anything huge, but you were relieved to have some power in your hands after having it all destroyed by Scaramouche previously.

Seeing that your self-esteem was slowly getting better, he finally begun going for the next and final step, which was the riskiest and hardest one… getting intimate. All that Scaramouche wanted in change of all those efforts he did for you were the bare minimum crumbs of your love. Yes, he hates himself that much. Don’t blame him, you were the first person to make him feel love after 20 years, so he doesn’t want to let go.

But, there was a problem, Scaramouche does not know how to get intimate. Now that touching and kissing you were more like a right rather than instinctual actions, he felt like he would pass out any time he touched you for more than 3 seconds.

The first time you kissed him was an absolute heart attackto him. You two were just peacefully sitting in the bed while he talked about the truth behind his relationship with Kujou Sara, when you suddenly leaned close to him and shut the space between your faces. He paralyzed, his heartbeat accelerating the more time you spent there, savoring his lips, but he still did his best to give in and not let go of that opportunity tou gave him. He incredibly started moaning due to the pressure you were putting on him and the arousal he got from the forming heat of your mouths. He genuinely needed to hold his heart with a hand to not pass out with the feeling of you pushing him down on the bed.

He doesn’t understand why he’s so nervous about something he dreamt for over three years now, nor why were you doing it. In your perspective, it just happens that you haven’t had sex in a year and simply wanted to feel that pleasure once again.

Just like he promised, he submitted to every single thing that you did to him. He was so nervous and taken aback seeing you grind your hips on top of his crotch as you unbuttoned his shirt that it even made toy feel guilty for him. His dick got hard so quickly that he really thought it was an orgasm. He didn’t even dare say it ask anything, he was too happy about you doing such an intimate thing with him to care about the answers of his questions.

He literally had to cover his eyes with a hand to not have a heart attack with the view of you taking off your clothes on top of and with that sly smirk in your face. Since you could tell he was nervous, you decided to start the actual thing as soon as you got rid of all the clothes even if you’d have a lot of fun teasing his ego. Scaramouche would never know it, but he was the last thing that went through your mind at the moment. All you thought of was your boyfriend’s sex and how he knew exactly where and how to touch you. Since you really wanted to feel that feeling of being touched by your ex’s hands again without being caught, you leaned down and grabbed one of the pillows above Scaramouche’s head and gave it to him to cover his face. He obviously submitted to that choice too and hugged that pillow against himself like he needed it to live. Now you really were enjoying the moment as you begun touching yourself all around your body like it was his hands doing so, betraying Scaramouche right in front of him.

In the end, it was a relieving experience for you but it was heaven for Scaramouche. Even if he watched lots of porn, he believed that sex didn’t feel that good since none of the women in it would ride dicks as greatly as you did. He thought that maybe he felt that much pleasure because it was you doing it, a person he loves, but he preferred to stick with the idea that he had just lost his virginity, so it made sense for him to act like that. After that night, his love for you grew massively. Expect to receive gifts every day of your life now, because he couldn’t wait to be intimate like that with you again. Since he had no idea how to do it nor how to have the courage of asking for it, he hoped that those little souvenirs would somehow drive you to ask for it. He would let control when and how you two did it forever if it was the only way you accepted to have sex with him.

God… he was so in-love with that intimacy… why did you turn that switch on on him?

Luckily, the more you two had sex, the more you’d feel comfortable with Scaramouche himself, so, when finally gave him the chance to top you, he was nervous about how clueless he actually was. So many parts to touch, kiss, lick and suck… so much praising that had to be done… so many kinks and details he had to keep in mind... seems like all those hours of watching porn thinking about you were useless. He also thought women felt pleasure with anything related to dicks due to how submissive they act towards it, and his awkwardness of seeing you naked below him, just waiting for him to begin, only contributed him to thrust you very poorly. Men in porn don’t make noise, so he didn’t do it too. Men in porn don’t touch and wouldn’t even get close to the woman they were fucking, so he didn’t do it too.

It was… terrible.

It was so terrible that it made you stop making effort of liking it and stop him.

“What’s going on? You’re quiet as a bush… do you not like it?” You asked neutrally, making him stop moving.

It didn’t matter anyway since he was going so slow and weak, thinking that would be enough to make you act like those prostitutes, that it barely made difference to you.

“N-No..! Of course I like it! D-Do you… not like it..?”

“No…” You answered immediately, making him panic in embarrassment.

“Oh… hum… h-how can I make you like it..?” He asked, afraid that you’d give up on letting him top.

Unfortunately, you two had to stop the whole moment so you could teach him how to touch a woman, not figuring out why was he acting so weird, but, luckily, he learned it quite fast. He did not want to disappoint you in such an important thing for your relationship. He was doing good with physical intimacy, but when you asked why was he so quiet again and told him to get those moans out of his mouth, he started to really fuck you. He was so surprised at how good sex made him feel that he would not blink at all. He wanted to hear every single high-pitched moan of yours whenever he thrusted you precisely. He wanted to watch and appreciate how every single part of your body reacted so tenderly to him. He wanted to feel the warmth of your soft skin against his, the physical contact you two shared.

The fact that you even willed to have sex with him was enough to make him cum.

He was so whiny and shaky after his hard orgasm that you immediately laid your both corpses in the bed to rest. You were so satisfied and even surprised at how well he did, it even made you accept the fact that it wasn’t your boyfriend who did it, and, yes, Scaramouche, a man who you promised to hate for the rest of your life.

Scaramouche’s needy soul had no words to share but he made sure you wouldn’t move an inch out of his grip that night.

But, do you really think he is always cute like this? Of course not! After all, you’d only have sex with him when you wanted to, which means it was once in months. His jealously is the biggest factor for your unhappiness in that marriage. He literally gets violently angry any time a man even dares to look at you, and would never blame you for it. You could spread your legs to a man and have sex with him while degrading Scaramouche’s morals right in front of him that he’d say that you’ve been seduced and manipulated to say such things. It would always create very awkward situations with architects, mailmen, waiters and engineers, who sometimes would even decide to keep a better distance from you two and you hated it. You couldn’t really live your life happily like that as an extroverted person. He still was rude and cold to everyone, just like when you met him, even with maids that were extremely loyal to your privacy in the home. Some of his workers and ex-workers even reported to the internet how Scaramouche wasn’t a pleasant boss and colleague at all. You tried telling him multiple times that he should treat his employees better, to avoid things like that and ruin his reputation, and try making new friends, but he claimed he didn’t need anyone else now that he had you by his side.

The only two people he treated well instead of you were your parents. He knows just how important they are for your mental health, so keeping a good relationship with them would help keeping the marriage good in a way. What if your parents started believing that marrying Scaramouche wasn’t that nightmare you told them to be because of his great behavior towards them? It would influence you to keep going, wouldn’t it?

Well… even if he denied the idea of opening himself to more people, you could see that he was unintentionally improving his behavior towards new people every day, but very slowly.

Sometimes he would also get really mad when something went slightly wrong with his work, career or your relationship. You’d usually get really scared when he started having an anger attack in your bedroom and would find anything distracting to do while you listened to him scream and discount his anger in the walls or objects of the room. He would always leave the room and run to you crying and whining like a child, begging for your forgiveness as he kneeled in front you and hugged your legs, but that wasn’t enough to make you feel more comfortable around his presence for the next hours or even days.

“Y/N, please, open the door! I didn’t mean to scare you, I just want you to love me too..! Why can’t you see it..?! What am I doing wrong?! Please… talk to me..! Let me see you..! Let’s sit down in the bed and talk about it, ok..? Please..? Y/NNN!” He screamed, cried, whined and begged at the bathroom’s door as he pulled and pushed the doorknob multiple times and banged at it, desperate to reach and feel you, who had locked yourself inside there half an hour ago after Scaramouche started acting violent towards you during a fight about your lack of response to his demonstrations of love.

When you two were being flashed by cameras and recorded by microphones, he’d also get extremely defensive of you and would not let you answer weird questions at all, claiming that those stupid journalists have no reason to be making such questions towards you and that they were all just greedy for any kind of secret.

Scaramouche did not fear that you’d tell them about the truth of your marriage, he just craved for your attention and company 24/7.

People on the internet eventually reached the conclusion that Scaramouche was the kind of man to act all tough and hard towards anyone instead of his wife while you were a social butterfly. There were even clips on YouTube of Scaramouche’s mood switch to prove that theory across gossip pages.

And, well, they weren’t wrong at all.

Marrying someone as insane as Scaramouche definitely does not feel like a burden, but it doesn’t feel pleasant at the same time. Your heart would always find itself craving for that feeling of love you once felt for you boyfriend and denying Scaramouche, no matter how well he treated and spoiled you. You’ve already gone through those dark memories, but sometimes they still haunt your nights and dream, especially the triggering memories of that day behind the tree and your marriage. You’ve always wanted your marriage to be a dreamy and unforgettable event with all your family and friends, including Scaramouche, everything in white and a smile that simply couldn’t be wiped out from your face. All you had with Scaramouche was a beautiful performance of architecture and money.

That comparison made you sob whenever you thought about it.

Scaramouche’s behavior was slowly getting repetitive and even boring, no matter how much he tried to innovate. Your life would start to step back again if you didn’t do anything about it.

— Will you try making your relationship with Scaramouche better? Or even… real?

— Will you think about your ex-boyfriend (any character you want) so much that you can’t handle the pain in your heart anymore, run back to him, find out that he still loves you too and run away from the country? Making sure Scaramouche never finds you again? Or does? He would get really pissed but really sad too…

— Will you get your revenge on this monster that broke the happy girl you once were, forced you into a loveless marriage and even made you have suicidal thoughts because of the low self-esteem he brought you to have unintentionally? By either making go to jail for his crimes or using blackmail to force into an open relationship where he’d know with you were going out with?

— Will you simply give up on making things better and kill yourself? It would lead Scaramouche to suffer eternally, no matter if you died or not.

It’s all up to you at 3:19 AM, staring at a wall of your room while you were supposed to be sleeping, feeling Scaramouche’s nose on your shoulder and hands around your waist as he peacefully slept.

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it <3

Original Post, Prequel

Taglist: @alatusorrow @the-stinky-winky @kindofshyent @kindofscenic @iruma-chan @sunflower0sky

[into-the-milgramverse]

I've been thinking about Muu for a while now, especially the reason people generally don't like her and wanna vote her guilty. I get it's likely due to people's personal experiences with bullying, and I've had those experiences too, so I'm not here to excuse her actions. Just wanna bring another perspective.

So, she lives in Japan.

She's mixed. She has blonde hair.

Does anyone here know that in some Japanese schools, if your hair isn't perfectly black but instead brown, they'll edit your photos to make it black?

Do people know that her being white and asian puts her already as a target for bullying?

I'm pretty sure she knew of that before starting highschool.

So, how to prevent being bullied? She had to find someone to target herself. If she's the one on top, if she's the one bullying others, she won't be bullied, right? It's a survival strategy (yes, "survival", while talking about school. After all, for many, the experience of going to school and being bullied is genuinely traumatizing.)

Unfortunately, that strategy doesn't quite work because all it takes is to accidentally bully the wrong person, or bully at the wrong time and a teacher catches you. And then there's a low possibility that teacher will actually do something about the bullying (but who's to say that same teacher will be there when everyone turns against you now?)

But, if, when they turn against you, you apologize really sweetly and make sure you look really depressed over it, they might stop, right?

But you can only say so many "sorry"s before people stop believing you all together.

That's basically the cycle Muu is in.

Be at the top by putting others beneath you -> If they turn against you, put on an act to be pitied -> Go back to the top -> If knocked back down again, cry again

It's what seems to work in school so far, so she's applying that same logic to prison, since, ya know, she hasn't really had any other experiences in life yet. I really doubt a rich 16 year old girl would know what prison is like (even those familiar with prisons likely weren't ready for some magic prison like Milgram).

Is what she's doing bad? Yes. But should she be tortured and killed for that? No. Besides, does it really bring justice to her victim? The family of the girl she killed will just know that their daughter is dead, and the one responsible for their daughter's death ran away. I mean, how would they know Muu got kidnapped to some kind of magical prison?

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 6

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky doesn’t understand what the heck just happened.

When he carried her into the house, the smell of lemongrass gave him nostalgia.

He gently put your grandma down on her bed. Then he went to the living room. You followed him after putting the blanket on Cassandra.

You found him standing near the air humidifier.

“This smell...” Bucky murmured, taking in the scent.

“Was the smell too strong? It's to calm my grandma's cough,” you explained, watching his reaction.

He shook his head slightly, still looking puzzled. “No, it’s not that. It’s just... familiar.”

You tilted your head, trying to understand. “Seriously, why didn’t you have an episode when you held my grandma?”

Bucky shook his head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. “I still don’t understand it.” His eyes wandered to the photos on the wall, lingering on one where a younger you stood next to your grandma. You wore a plaid skirt, and the scarf around Cassandra’s neck seemed oddly familiar.

“Ugh,” he groaned suddenly, clutching his head as a sharp pain struck. He stumbled back, nearly losing his balance.

“Bucky!” you exclaimed, rushing to his side.

He crouched down, falling to his knees as he was overwhelmed by a flashback. The disgusting laugh of the day he was kidnapped echoed in his mind.

“HAHAHAHA! We will be rich,” one of the kidnappers had said. Bucky clenched his teeth, the memory resurfacing with brutal clarity.

He hated this memory. He had tried so hard to lock it away.

“Oh my god, why is there a kid—? Are you okay?” A woman's voice and her silhouette appeared in his mind.

That voice. Her voice sounded familiar.

“Bucky!” You shook his shoulders, desperate to bring him back to the present.

Bucky snapped out of his nightmare, gasping for breath. His eyes were teary and red as he looked at you with a mix of fear and confusion.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice trembling with concern. You gently touched his arm, grounding him.

Bucky got up abruptly. “Sorry, but I have to go.”

“Wait,” you called out, reaching for him.

But he was already moving swiftly, his long strides taking him out the door and into his car. The engine roared to life, and the car sped off down the street.

You stood there, watching the taillights disappear into the night, a mix of worry and frustration knotting in your stomach. You could only hope he drove safely.

While driving, his headache eased after he left your place. But something had triggered his memory. What triggered it?

Was it because of you?

💋💋💋💋💋

He returned to his apartment, his mind racing with questions. That night, he had the same nightmare again. But tonight was different. Alongside the voice of his kidnapper, he could hear another voice.

He woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat.

The next morning, when Javier arrived at his clinic, he saw Bucky in the basement parking lot, just getting out of his car with a pale face.

“Bucky, you look terrible. What happened?” Javier asked, concern etched on his face.

Bucky, leaning heavily against the car, ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I had the nightmare again, but this time there was another voice. It felt...familiar.”

Javier looked at Bucky with surprise. “You got another episode?”

Bucky nodded, his face set with determination. “I want to remember everything.”

Javier was taken aback. As Bucky's psychiatrist from the start, he had always tried to help Bucky forget the traumatic events. This was a significant change.

“Alright, let’s get you relaxed and start the hypnosis session,” Javier said, guiding Bucky into his office.

Bucky lay down on the comfortable recliner, closing his eyes. Javier dimmed the lights, creating a calming atmosphere. He began speaking in a low, soothing voice.

“Bucky, I want you to take a deep breath. Inhale slowly...and exhale. Let all your tension melt away. You are in a safe place. As you listen to my voice, feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into relaxation.”

Bucky's breathing slowed, and his body relaxed. Javier continued, “Now, I want you to imagine a staircase. With each step you take, you’ll go deeper into your memories. Ten steps down, each one taking you closer to the memory you seek. Ten...nine...eight...”

Bucky's mind drifted back. He felt himself being pulled into the past, into a dark and cold place. The air was thick with dampness, and the sound of water dripping echoed around him. He could see nothing but shadows.

Then, suddenly, he saw a door open. Light streamed in, and he ran towards it with every ounce of strength. His heart pounded, his breath ragged, but he didn’t stop. He ran as far as he could from the kidnappers.

Flashback Starts

The sky was already dark, and he was hungry and thirsty.

He ran away from the abandoned factory where the kidnappers were hiding. Bucky was able to escape when one of them didn't check the locked door.

Not wanting to miss the chance, he ran as fast as possible.

After running for a while his legs felt weak, but he kept going. Across a lake, he saw a small house with lights on.

He hoped someone was inside, but his legs had given out. He stumbled and fell to the ground, his eyes growing heavy.

He thought this was his last lifeline until he heard a voice.

“Oh my God. Why is there a kid here? Are you okay?” The woman’s voice echoed in his mind.

In his memory, he barely opened his eyes, but one particular thing that caught his eye was the woman wearing a patterned blue silk scarf. He felt his body being held by someone. The way he was held was different from the person who kidnapped him.

He felt protected.

Younger Bucky felt his back rest against something soft. He didn't realize how much he missed the comfort of a bed until, because of the kidnapping, he found himself resting on a cold floor.

His body felt warm, and the aroma of the place was different from before. No more smell of tobacco. Instead, it was the scent of eucalyptus and lemongrass.

He heard someone calling, though the name was unclear. He caught snippets of the conversation.

“Could you watch over him? I'm going to call the police,” said the first voice, concerned.

“Okay. But... is he alright?” the second voice asked, sounding younger.

“I don't think so,” the adult woman replied, her tone worried.

Bucky’s mind struggled to piece together the fragments of memory. The warmth, the scents, and the voices mingled in a haze as he drifted between consciousness and sleep.

He felt something gently wipe the sweat from his forehead. “You're safe. My grandma will call the police.”

Bucky exhaled. He struggled to lift his hand, then he felt the one who accompanied him hold it. Her hand felt soft and warm. He murmured, “Thank you.”

He slowly opened his eyes to see the person near him. The silhouette began to clear.

It was you. A younger you. And the older woman who carried him is your grandma.

Flashback End

Bucky woke up from his hypnotized state, breathing heavily. He looked at Javier, his eyes wide with realization. “I remembered,” he said, his voice trembling with the intensity of the memories flooding back.

🍷🍷🍷🍷

At the anniversary party of Celestial Enterprise, the atmosphere buzzed with opulence and excitement. The grand ballroom of the luxury hotel was adorned with crystal chandeliers casting sparkling light across the room.

Tables draped in deep blue silk tablecloths and gold accents were laden with exquisite white roses and lilies floral arrangements. Soft jazz music played in the background, adding a touch of elegance to the evening.

Guests mingled, holding glasses of champagne and exchanging pleasantries. Many were long-time associates, loyal clients, and esteemed partners of Celestial Enterprise, celebrating its 60th year in business. The air was filled with the hum of conversation, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter.

Victoria, radiant in a shimmering silver gown that hugged her figure, was undeniably the star of the evening. Her blonde hair was styled in loose waves, and her makeup was flawless, highlighting her striking features. She moved gracefully through the crowd, accepting congratulations and compliments with a practiced smile.

Her friends, a group of equally well-dressed socialites, surrounded her, their chatter blending with the general noise of the party.

One of her friends, a brunette in a sleek red dress, leaned in closer. “Victoria, darling, was the rumor true that you and Bucky...?” she trailed off, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Victoria shyly nodded her head.

“You’re so lucky. I’m so jealous,” one of her friends said, her voice tinged with envy.

Victoria put her pointed finger to her lips, leaning in conspiratorially. “But you have to keep it a secret,” she said, acting humble, though inwardly she was thrilled to see the jealousy in their eyes.

“You’ve secured your future with the most wanted bachelor.”

Victoria waved a hand dismissively, though she couldn’t hide her smirk. “You guys… stop it.”

“What about your older sister? She must be jealous,” one of the guests chimed in, joining the conversation.

Victoria flinched slightly at the mention of you, but she quickly recovered, taking a sip of her wine. She feigned a kind smile. “If she came home, our parents would introduce her to someone better.”

“Better than Bucky? Good luck!” They all burst into laughter.

“By the way, will he come to this party?” her friends asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

Victoria’s smile wavered for a moment. “Probably. He told me he would be late,” she replied, taking another sip of her wine. In truth, Bucky hadn’t given any reply, and she felt a pang of anxiety at his absence.

Oblivious to her inner turmoil, her friends continued to fawn over her, showering her with compliments and admiration. Victoria maintained her composed exterior, though her mind was racing, wondering why Bucky hadn’t responded and if he would show up.

She knew Bucky was a quiet person. "Challenging" was the perfect word to describe him. But she would be patient. She didn't want to be pushy and irritate him.

She resolved to act with patience, hoping Bucky would realize she was perfect for him.

“Ooh… it’s him,” one of the guests exclaimed, spotting someone entering the party.

Victoria’s eyes lit up as she saw Bucky arrive. She felt relief wash over her, grateful she wouldn’t have to make excuses for his absence.

With a beautiful smile, she moved to approach her fiancé. All she had to do was stand beside Bucky and bask in the envy of everyone around her.

But her excitement was short-lived when she saw Bucky holding hands with another woman.

Victoria’s grip on her wine glass tightened, the tension evident in her white knuckles. If anyone had been close enough, they might have noticed the glass starting to crack.

Beside Bucky walked another woman, her beauty undeniable as she glided gracefully in her elegant dress.

“Are you sure he’s engaged to Victoria?” another guest whispered, their words barely audible but still carrying across the room. The murmurs began to spread, and Victoria could feel anger rising.

The sight of Bucky holding hands with someone who wasn’t her, his fiancée, filled her with rage.

Of all the women in the world, why does it have to be you?

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@chemtrails-club

@dexter99

@seresingirlie

@missvelvetsstuff

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@buckitostan

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@evie-119

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@ghalouha

@iamasimpingh0e

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[hooked-on-elvis]

This is a different question. WHICH ELVIS SONG YOU LAST CRAVED TO LISTEN TO? (AND WHY?)

I'll take the risk in sounding too silly now but, you know, I mainly enjoy the King's music on shuffle mode because any of them are damn awesome, however sometimes I miss a certain song. (we all have our favorites). This question is a way for me to share my feelings over one of his songs I love dearly, but also because I'm curious about the Elvis songs that are as deep in your hearts and minds as this one is in mine. I'll ramble a lot about why this song is special to me, and I don't even know if you're interested in this kind of content or not, but I invite you to do the same. Let's get things to the next level, let our passion show. No just dropping the song this time, uh uh. Let's get contemplative in our appreciation for Elvis' music. That's what I'm proposing. I hope some of your feel his music the same way I do. You'll see how passionate and overexcited I get in a minute. LOL.

This is Elvis around the time this song was recorded.

November 28, 1976. Elvis performed at the Cow Palace in San Francisco, California, at 8.30 pm. He wore the 1974 Arabian suit with the V-Neck suit belt.

So, it's past 00:00 a.m. around here now. Suddenly, out of the blue, I just missed listening to "It's Easy For You" from the "Moody Blue" album (1977). The runtime of this song is 3:27 - and this post is about what a good song can do to a human's brain in just a few minutes.

This song has so many layers! I appreciate songs with real content, you know? Those are my favorites, songs that tell a story. This is one of them.

Controversial feelings rush in because it causes me to think about the perspectives of the each individuals involved in the matter the lyrics brought up: a broken family, a disillusioned man, a temptress woman who came, rocked this poor family's world - intentionally or not - and now has left and it's being called on it. "It's Easy For You" is definitely a philosophical song to me - sociologically rich, really.

I feel kinda avenged for the guy's family, like… if I were the ex-wife I would laugh that his sorry ass and at the same time would resent him even worse, like "Look what you did to our children and for what?"…On the other hand, I understand the man for breaking his marriage. It surely wasn't an easy decision to make. I try to wear his shoes. Would it be better if he ignored having feelings for other woman and stayed in his loveless marriage for the children's sake? We always take our life's experiences to try to comprehend things, right? Well, I remember a family I knew when I was a teen. Somehow gossip spread that the husband and the wife were no longer seeing eye to eye, if you know what I mean. They kept married just not to traumatize their children, at least that's what I heard. I remember being around 12 years old and thinking this is was the saddest thing I had ever heard happening to people. So, this Elvis song gets me back to that and questions come into my mind... questions on life and love. Would it be better if the husband just cheated on his wife just to keep his family together, to save his children of trauma so early in life? His misery would be worth it? He chose to be selfish, but really... was he all that wrong? I don't have an answer for this. I feel this guy is a good guy who was really in the middle of crossroads and chose to follow his heart. I feel terrible for him because he sure feels like shit. He's desperate. You see he's calling on this new woman he abandoned his family for, probably in hope she would take him back and not make him feel like he's a real shitty person for hurting his children because he chose to try to find happiness in love again. At the same time I imagine the reason why his new love left him after a while - the reasons can be many. Does he have any right to call on her for not wanting to be with him anymore? Just because he was in love with her doesn't mean he was a good partner... she chose to leave him for a reason, just like he did when he chose to leave his marriage for her. How does this woman felt after being called on her decision to leave him? He's blaming her for his misery there! It's real heavy, and I think it's unfair too. Also, I imagine how was this guy's relationship with his children was affected. Do they resent him for leaving their home? How those poor kids lives are gonna be, 'cause this kind of trauma leaved deep marks behind, wounds that may never heal - and this parent is conscious about this. He sure is, and that's why he's so desperate. So many broken hearts... ugh! There's a very sad ballad performed by Tammy Wynett called "I Don't Wanna Play House" ... it's about the woman left behind and how sad she is at seeing how the divorce affected the way her child perceives love. The mother watches her little girl playing with the neighbor's kid, as they usually do, but this day the little girl's mother sees a commotion there and decides to find out what's going on, so she listens to her daughter's explanation for refusing playing house with this other little kid... her words were: "I don't wanna play house, it makes my mommy cry... 'cause when she played house, my daddy said 'good-bye'." The first time I listened to that song I cried like a baby, really cried. Anyhow, "It's Easy For You" by Elvis gains a new depth to me when I put those two songs together. I can feel why he's so frustrated, it's much more than just being sad over a break up. It's a more intense kind of love disappointment, really a grown up thing.

All of those emotions are the reason why this is one of my favorite Elvis song. Here in Brazil we have this huge actress named Fernanda Montenegro (you must have heard about her a little while ago because her daughter, also a huge actress here, was nominated to the Oscar 2025 - Fernanda Torres with the 'I'm Still Here' film). So, Fernanda Montenegro once said "Art exists to bring us comfort" and this quote is deep inside my heart. That Elvis song, 'It's Easy For You", is one of those songs supposed to make people feel hugged, and I love how Elvis can translate all the depth in the words of this song with his unique interpretation. The last chorus is where things get really intense for me - and it's the reason why I fell in love with this tune in the first place... the words are strong, but the way they are put out is where the real treasure lies. I'm gonna use colors to represent the way I feel listening to Elvis.

"I had a wife and I had children... I threw them all away. And now you tell me, you dare to tell me, I should go back to them. What do you think - what on earth do you think I should say?"

See? The tones escalate... from sorrow to warning to anger. It's amazing to hear this. I wonder if he intentionally thought about putting those feelings there or if he was just thinking about how the words sounded, you know what I mean? Anyway, Elvis... you've done it, man. And your musicians... GOD! Everybody did such a great job with this song! I feel like crying for things I never experienced. This is art. I guess after all of this I have to say this is a underappreciated Elvis song - but not if it's on me. I'll always have it in a special place.

"It's Easy For You" — Lyrics: Andrew Lloyd Webber/Tim Rice. Recorded October 29, 1976 at Elvis' home Graceland, Memphis. Musicians: Guitar: James Burton, John Wilkinson, Chip Young, Charlie Hodge. Bass: Jerry Scheff. Drums: Ronnie Tutt. Piano: Tony Brown. Electric Piano: David Briggs. Vocals: Kathy Westmoreland, Myrna Smith, Sherrill Nielsen, J.D. Sumner & The Stamps. OVERDUBS - Steel Guitar: Weldon Myrick. Percussion: Randy Cullers. Moog Synthesizer: Shane Keister. Additional overdubs were done by the members of Elvis' live band in January 1977 at Creative Workshop in Nashville.

[lol-jackles]

I was pursuing your “Destiel” tag (thank you for posting it for that anon, btw, and bringing it back to my attention), and came across this statement from you:

“As a result, douchy Jensen + going off script = other actors trying to cope. My favorite was 2016 because that was when my girlfriend leaned close to the screen and said, "Jared, blink twice if you're being held against your will". Since then Jared had figured out how to handle these ~unscripted~ moments, but Misha hasn't.”

What was the moment in particular at 2016 JIB that made your girlfriend say that? Or what was Jensen going at that one? Wasn’t Gen at that one, too?

Also, what would you say Jared’s strategy has been in dealing with Jensen (when drunk) on stage at JIB? And why does Jensen seem “meaner” to Jared at JIB than at CE or AHBL cons? Which is closer to thier actual dynamic, do you think?

And I just have to add, it was pretty amusing seeing Misha momentarily (sadly not longer) regret his life choices at, was it 2019 JIB, where he pointed out the Destiel shirt and Jensen yelled about “where is it real?” Do you think Jensen was actually annoyed in this panel? I say yes, but my brother says no.

Jensen seems to keep it together more at JIBs post pandemic, but I was at JIB 13, and he gave off a huge air of just being over the whole thing by his solo Sunday panel. And he and Rich were essentially running out the clock by being loud idiots (my ears still hurt from being near a speaker).

They all claim to love JIB, but they also all seem pretty over it come Sunday.

Sorry that got long. Would love to see your response to any parts.

This was the first time I briefly talked about the infamous Jib con. Back in 2016 I used to think their co/dependent friendship was doomed at the 10-year mark because when one isn’t adjusting to the changing time, then the idolatries friendship can’t last more than 10 years at best.  I listed a few examples (X) from a feminist blog about women ending their female friendships, a woman ending her friendship with a male friend (X) Oliver Broudy’s story of ending his 10-year friendship with a college friend (X).  These friendships ended because one of them was stuck and making more and more demands on the unstuck friend.  We know happened after season 10 wrapped up (X) (X).

Anyways, what got my girlfriend's attention was Jared looking like a tug of war rope between Gen and Jensen and the boys. Regular corporate SPN cons in the U.S are already a male-dominated atmosphere bordering on frat boy shenanigans. At least there are corporate handlers and security to help keep the actors in line, plus alcohol are banned for actors. Jib cons are fan-run with no handlers and alcohol are allowed, and usually there are no actresses because the cost of the extra Jensen/Misha and Jared/Misha panels means some actors are going to get cut out and it’s usually the actresses. Without female colleagues around, the men really rile each other up at Jib cons, it’s part of their bonding and one-upmanship rituals. I think why Gen rarely participated in SPN cons is because she didn't want to be around all that dude energy. But 2016 was different because I think she blamed herself for leaving the 2015 British con early and is still traumatize that she nearly lost Jared few days later, so Gen agreed to let Jared drag bring her to Jib con. Men don’t like wives/girlfriends homing in on their bro times and Jensen was noticeable irritated that Jared’s wife was there and during the closing ceremony Jensen used air quotations marks while talking about Gen’s marriage to Jared who had his arms wrapped around her. He looked peeved at Jensen and then then laughed it off because what else could he do on stage?

(Side note: it’s not easy for men to find male friends and keeping them.  I hated the movie I love you, man because it was too familiar, and Paterson made me uneasy because Adam Driver's character has no male friends and he's more than okay with that because he has a wife.)

Jensen seems "meaner" not just to Jared but to every actor there, especially Misha. At these fan-run conventions, there are no "scripts" (guidelines actually) to follow. Most actors were still going by the guidelines from corporate-run conventions when they're on stage, but not Jensen because it's part of his upmanship as a way to both bond and dominate others. It's a Ryan Seacrest and Brian Dunkleman type situation. Maybe Jensen learned this trick from Ryan who used to be his roommate. Misha is not a natural improviser, his guest appearance on Whose Line Is it Anyways shows that, so he's the least apt at handling Jensen's off script moments. Half the time Jensen wasn't actually drunk but acts like it to avoid the inevitable asinine Destiel-loaded questions from the hellers in the audience.

Jared's strategy was about the same at pre-2016 JIB cons and CE cons because he's pretty apt at smoothing things over between Jensen and the fans. At the infamous 2013 New Jersey con a self-claiming bisexual girl tried to ask Jensen a loaded Destiel question and he snapped at her with, “don’t ruin it for everybody” and Jared immediately calmed Jensen down and salvaged the rest of the experience for sane fans.

Stuff like this is closer to their real life dynamic as the Giver and the Taker. If you read the "codependency tag", Jared the Giver cleans up the messes the Taker make. Givers think they're helping but they're actually enabling and don't improve things. Jensen's reputation took a slight hit, and it took a few years for the New Jersey con to be memory-holed. Apparently Jensen didn't learn from this and 3 years later mocked a girl wearing a "Destiel is real" shirt at the 2019 JIB. Misha told Jensen to not “fight with fans” and Jared was gesturing to a fan in the front row as if saying don’t look at me look at him. That may answer your question, Jared stopped trying to calm Jensen down and instead focus on heading off fans who gets too snippy at Jensen, like at a DC con few years back where a girl was trying to look cool but came off sounding hostile towards Jensen, so Jared left the stage and hugged the stuffings out of the girl, deflating her hostile-sounding voice.

I don't think I've seen Jensen's solo panel at JIB13, but he's usually looks like he's watching the clock during his Jared-less panels so that's nothing new. It's been the case for many years and a common complaint by fans, it's why CE stopped having solo J panels early on because Jensen needs a scene partner. It goes back to why Jensen works better as a scene-stealing supporting actor instead of a leading man. How Jensen made Dean Winchester have memorable moments was by putting his focus on the other person.  By using this method, Jensen can stop worrying about how he’s going to say his lines and speak intuitively, this helps make Dean appear truthful to the audience.  It may be why Jensen doesn’t read scripts ahead of time.   Jensen doesn’t go into a scene looking to do a scene, instead he goes in looking to be open and give over to how the other person (in this case, Jared playing Sam) makes him feel.  This method worked great for Jensen when his character has Sam to focus on, and Jensen has Jared to react to.  It’s why Dean’s dying moments with Sam in the barn works so well in the series’ finale.

.

You probably heard of the saying, “acting is reacting”.

A demon’s acting philosophy in The Good Place: “Demons have to learn that Acting Is Reacting.  And Reacting Is Pre-acting. But Pre-acting? Well, that’s just being.”  

While “acting is reacting” gets mocked in the acting community because it’s a trap alot of actors fall into by adjusting their truthful inner life to their assumptions about the text.  Good acting is adjusting the text to your authentic emotion which is the result of the other person.  This where Jensen’s good acting comes from and it’s become his comfort zone and made him a multimillionaire by his mid 30s.  He’s in what my acting coach calls “the truthful contact”, it’s where actors are taught the first stage of authentic acting.  The next stage is “crafting”.  When you’re working solo without a screen partner, your skill at crafting becomes vital.  Crafting means anywhere from ability to endow meaning to objects so they have emotional meaning is important, or effectively get across justifications and point of views.  

[lacunammmm]

Hi,I loved your post about dabi and while I do think he is the better one in LoV in terms of writing (especially in regards his backstory, I'm sorry but the whole "the entire Shimuras died and no one mentions ever" is so...bizarre and bad written to me) and while yes, I have respond on the post. I want to do a more in depth thing.

1) I think LoV are a bunch of hypocrite idiots. I'm not saying this as a hater but as an objective point of view. Shig is a stupid leader and has failed 2 times and one of those times, the mission was to kidnap a person to join his ragtags of losers...without any prior knowledge of said person.

2) Dabi was doing what once he was free from the creepy hospital? Bc that is a plot hole for me. Could he have survived on his own? I mean, maybe not impossible but he WAS a rich kid so...I find a bit hard that Mr. Rich kid suddenly gets street knowledge to know how to survive

3) ok say someone took dabi in and said person vanish for whatever reason. What dabi was doing then? If his plain is homicide -suicide, why he needs LoV? Make the statement you are Toya, and kill your father with a bang. I'm sorry I just can't see any reason for dabi to be in LoV or for why Shig puts up with him (Dabi, Mr. Iconic, calls him ugly to his face and tried to kill him granted shig tried too)

4) LoV's goals make no sense. Say they genuinely want to expose bad heroes, ok. Why join a group lead by a man that says "I will destroy everything"? Shig invaded a school. Not asking for the LoV to be cinnamon rolls but like ...they should think at least twice about that. "They are villains, they don't care about kids" ok, fair enough. Then they should care about how Shig let his teammates eat dust TWO TIMES

5) Shig has no feasible plan for "destroy all" which is fucking ironic (and show how he is stupid) bc he has decay. No,.srsly. if his goal was destroy everything...the way is to use his damn quirk. "Decay has a long range" ok, let's go with that, let's pretend decay couldn't have decay UA with, let's pretend shig in the first seasons couldn't decay UA in seconds...why he couldn't train? (I've noticed this a lot but many people in that universe take their quirks for granted and are so uninterested in learning more. "Oh I can fly x speed, ok no further asks")

6) "he was traumatized" if shig was so traumatized bc of his quirk...he wouldn't be able to use the quirk on overhaul. Which as much fandom hates him...overhaul is still human and Shig decay a part of his body...that should have trigger him, but it didn't. In fact, he never mentioned that.

7) Toga is not a innocent kid and I'm tired the fandom giving her excuses. "Her parents are evil abusers" i don't think they were just unequipped to handle toga who shows dangerous tendencies, killing an animal and drinking it's blood. "She needs blood or else she would die" if that was the case, she would need to have in her a blood bag, but she doesn't. She would attack LoV to drink their blood...she doesn't. Toga either killed or canalized the boy from her school. And I do like her ambiguity. I don't like her being cuddle (hate togaocha) she is hypocrite, she wants to live in a world where she faces no consequences (again, why the fuck she is following a man who wants to destroy all? She likes cute stuff right? Well, shig for sure have destroyed shops that sells cute stuff "bit shig promised he wouldn't destroy things his allies like" and are we really meant to believe in shig? If so, he already destroy a huge chunk of the city and the mall)

8) Spinner sucks, people can rewrite him and such but I hate him. Blaming Izu who sacrifice everything to save shig's ungrateful ass? Get out here. Also when spinner became so "wow shig is so cool"? I think, in my humble opinion, the shift became thanks to MVA. Where shig got a quirk awakening and looks cool. Spinner who has no identity and can only cosplay as others, found that cool. And sorry, I'm not sold on the friendship. There a panel where Shig looks so annoyed at the spinner where Spinner is yapping about god knows what.

9) afo. Ok yeah I don't think he ever want shig to replace him, that is obvious. But his plan was to get on Shig's body? But at the same time, it feels he gives no fucks about Shig. I genuinely think he gave LoV as a means for Shig to fail. To me, afo is the mean girl who laughs and bullies you, in this case, shig.

10) the nomus. I'm shocked no one in the heroes side is ever worried about those monstrosities. They exist, they defeated and move on...like, how you hide those things? No one makes questions. Naomasa found nothing on shig (i get as the name is fake) but it gave the impression everyone gave a shody work "let's Google his name" and that's it.

Hori doesn't like his villains, he doesn't like most of the heroes either. Its BK or endy.

Izu?

Hori: ewww Izu.

(the same goes for dabi bc love or hate him, this character is born to suffer. His backstory is so tragic, so awful and...he accomplished nothing. Just a piece to make his abuser looking good)

Shigaraki was always a joke. The story just gaslit you into thinking he was growing. In truth, his "growth" is actually just him gaining the level of intelligence almost the same as the average person. This absolute loser was handed a 76 man villain army, a nomu with the power of All Might, and Kurogiri, a man able to warp you anywhere you want as long as you've got some coordinates.

And he failed completely and utterly against a bunch of 15-16 year olds. In fact, his men were so pathetic not a single one of them could actually defeat any of these children. Only the nomu was dangerous, and of course it loses to All Might and Shigaraki proceeds to completely waste it by not even bothering to try and retrieve it.

The Symbol Of Anti Peace, ladies and gentlemen. Millions of dollars likely went into forming this dude. We know he took YEARS to be ready because he's seen in Vigilantes. And Shigaraki uses him in one fight and can't even be bothered to TRY to retrieve him. You know, the cops had this guy. He wasn't being kept in tartarus. All it would have taken was Shigaraki fighting his way to the intercom of the police station and then ordering Nomu to level the place. Once he hears Tomura, he'd activate and go on a murderous rampage.

But no, this loser just…let's the cops keep him and the USJ nomu is never seen again.

With respect to his quirk, Shigaraki could conceivably have done a terror attack every single day. His Decay quirk, at the time, just required he place five fingers on something and it would be destroyed.

So, at odd hours of the morning, he could have had Kurogiri open portals just big enough for his hands to fit through, and then he'd touch government buildings, the walls of police stations, and so on. Even if he doesn't destroy all of a building, he could still inflict millions, if not billions of dollars in damages on a daily basis with very little chances of being caught.

But Tomura is braindead and pathetic because he exists to scale to the hero kids. The author had to give them an opponent who wouldn't hurt them too badly since the main characters are his darlings and he can't bear the idea of real stakes or consequences. He squanders his advantages time and time again. Anyone reading this could be a better villain than Tomura.

Just to iron in how screwed the hero kids logically should have been at the USJ:

Kurogiri revealed that they had plotted to have the Nomu hold All Might still, so Kurogiri could open and close a portal on All Might's body and kill him. So, essentially what he's saying is that he could shred to pieces or cut apart anyone who enters one of his portals. So, Kurogiri's quirk is a one hit kill if he decides it is.

What was stopping him from just shredding all of the children apart instead of ineffectually scattering them across the USJ so the bumbling idiots they brought with them could fail to score a single fatality? Kurogiri had everyone's lives in his hands.

And two, at any point Tomura could have just ordered the Nomu to kill everyone, and All Might would have arrived to just the corpses of his comrades. Literally all he had to do was say three words. "Nomu, kill them." And we don't have a main cast. The story becomes about All Might, Aoyama and Endeavor from then on after the student massacre.

In retrospect, all of the elements of the final war arc was present from the beginning. The villains who should logically be overpowered but don't apply themselves. The hero plot armor. The author's refusal to seriously harm or kill anyone the audience could ever dream of giving a fuck about. It's a shame we just couldn't see it.

I call this the "Toga Problem."

I ask you: How did Toga, a schoolgirl who had no combat training, zero apparent muscle mass, who has never been in a fight, and whose quirk offers doesn't actually offer benefits in terms of boosting her physical stats, gain the strength and skill to be an experienced serial killer and also do things like reverse Aizawa's binding cloth and stab him to escape from him? How did she defeat Rock Lock in single combat? Even with an ambush, that's still not an easy feat.

Who trained her? What was her life like? Did she live on the streets? Did she couch hop? Did she date various people, fall deeply in love with them, live with them, then eventually kill them and drink their blood before moving on to another victim?

We know the timeline. She snapped from being deprived blood and had an accident with a kid….????….and then we come across her as a fully realized serial killer who has zero shame, guilt or remorse for anything she does.

Dabi has the same issue. What happened to Touya after he ran away from the Todoroki household that led to him becoming Dabi?

The author had zero interest in explaining any of it. It, personally, was one of my most anticipated mysteries, Toga's connective tissue as you will. But we're not gonna learn that, so oh well.

If the League didn't have Dabi acting as the albatross around their necks, they might actually succeed for once. The author couldn't have had that. Dabi is another means the author uses to nerf the League. As for what he was planning to do? Nothing.

It's my agenda that Dabi is a bum who can't do anything right, but it's canonically true, which is why it's funny. We're to believe that without all of these things falling into his lap, Dabi probably wouldn't have ever done anything.

The dude had no criminal record and he only listed burning those random guys as his crime. If he'd been a murderer or a villain before then, he'd have certainly listed all of that to make his street cred greater for the Touya reveal. But he didn't say anything about that.

So I guess Dabi had a job at 7-11 stocking shelves and unloading boxes from the truck. He was content with his life until he sensed his calling was near: he had to go find a group to be a failure with.

It was luck that he happened to have Skeptic so he could film his video and release it.

Not that the narrative even LET Dabi have a win there. It turns out no one in this society gives a shit about buying women to breed them for their quirks, domestic abuse, or running a eugenics program.

None of our supposed good guy characters even discussed the elephant in the room of everyone still working with, rooting for, and supporting this monster, Enji.

Well, Enji is the author's darling, so he can't be criticized too badly. So our characters we're supposed to like basically condone his awful behavior because they say nothing against it.

I'd have even accepted it if they all shunned him entirely with the exception of using his power for the war. That's at least something. As would be Naomasa cuffing the dude after the war is over.

But even in the future, Endeavor is remembered as one of the greatest heroes of all time. But in the same breath, Shoto had to work hard for years to step outside of the shadow of Endeavor's history and controversy.

So which is it? The author has his cake and eats it too. Why do people applaud this man who would go out and arrest hundreds of people so he could make loads of money, fame, and rise in the hero rankings, and then come home and terrorize his family?

L. O. L. Dabi stays losing. The author must really hate this dude.

Apparently consequences just don't exist for heroes. If you're a hero and you do a crime, the hero team will ignore it because you said sorry. And those pesky criminal charges? Nah. Don't worry about them.

You wanna know something hilarious? Nagant has probably killed more heroes than both Dabi and Tomura combined, but Deku beat Tomura to death and told him he'd never forgive him.

The LOV members ceased to be actual characters after the arc they were introduced in. They're mainly Tomura's accessories except when the author wants them to do something. You know that "Tsundere aura" Bakugo's got that has everyone ignore his monstrous behavior and cruel actions, even when they'd normally have an issue with it if another character did it? Tomura's got a weaker version of that to keep his crew together, despite the fact that these people really ought to have abandoned him.

There was no plan. He just had a vague idea that he'd destroy society…and then he lucks into everything that would enable him to do it. Think about it. What happens with the League if they don't meet Overhaul, something Garaki and AFO didn't plan for? What happens if the MLA didn't care about them? Then they just spend a while fighting Gigantomachia to try and "tame" him and then…Garaki decides Tomura has proven himself enough to be upgraded to get the AFO quirk.

Beating Overhaul and forming the PLF were things that dropped into Tomura's lap as a result of people either seeking him out or attacking him first. Overhaul murdered Magne, so he wanted some revenge. The MLA kidnapped Giran, so Twice wanted to save the dude and Shigaraki is a ride or die homie, so he went too. And I'll go on a side tangent here.

The author added a trans character just to have her be the first character to die outside of a flashback? Really? Magne gets brutally murdered, misgendered, and is used as motivation for the League only for no one to give a single fuck about her or mention her again after that arc? Jeez, Midnight's fate was practically foretold to us here.

And then you know, the MLA decided to make a really smooth brained plan of messing with the League instead of doing a stealth takeover with their organization that gathered 100,000 meta liberation warriors in complete secrecy.

You know, that's more people than the Taliban has ever had in its existence. There's real life nations that are smaller than that. This is such an insane number that it's no wonder the author decided to nerf the fuck out of Tomura by taking all those minions away from him. This number of people all being willing to kill and die for their beliefs is implicit proof that hero society is rotten and broken beyond belief.

You don't have a terror group this large form for anything other than grievous issues. We get absolutely no closure with what happened to all those MLA people, by the way. THOUSANDS of these MFERS were taken down in the first and second wars, and they scored ONE known kill: Midnight, who was already weakened and had just survived a huge fall. Hey, remember when Enji fell from a distance greater than a skyscraper and got back up with just a cool scar to show for it? But Midnight gets killed by randoms. What a joke.

Why didn't ANY of the villains train? Quirks can do whatever the plot demands they do. We have examples of people like Shinso who can just train off a quirk's weaknesses or limitations, in that he explicitly was not capable of making people talk before while brainwashed, but just…trained really hard off screen and could do that.

And we've got people like Tetsutetsu who, while he didn't start off resistant to temperatures, just gained that ability from training.

Quirks don't really seem to have hard limits beyond the creativity of the user, and if the author likes you, he'll give you a quirk evolution to make you even more powerful. Just look at what Bakugo can do after his boosts!

I want to point out that Enji didn't realize he could use his quirk to fly until he watched Bakugo do it, meaning Hellflame likely has immense potential and numerous new techniques that the guy just didn't think to try. Despite believing he couldn't ever improve enough to beat All Might on his own and that he'd hit a wall of how strong he could be.

The villains are all equally untapped potential.

Shigaraki's upgrade was because the author wrote him into a dangerous situation and this would be how he'd get out of it. And it would also increase Shigaraki's threat rating in the face of Deku's upgrades. Then the author makes the decision to give him the AFO quirk instead of Tomura using his quirk that, without fail, can destroy anything that isn't air or water and the effect spreads to anything the Decay wave touches, and stuff touched by the Decay wave. The guy could have just driven to UA, unleashed the wave, and then drove back to his base the MLA provided and been fine.

You've talked about this before: he didn't need the AFO quirk. And he really, really didn't. The heroes didn't even know about his new power, so he could have wiped cities off the map at will.

Then the author writes this guy as if he forgot he could do this entirely unless the plot says he can. Think of how many of his later fight scenes he could have ended things entirely in if he'd just bothered to decay his victims. Endeavor and Deku being the most glaring examples. Hey, Tomura. Rather than pose on top of the guy and Ryuku (who entirely disappeared like a ghost after that. She didn't die, so where'd she go, Horikoshi?) how about you turn him to dust like you love to threaten people?

How about instead of turning Gran Torino into a donut (and of course he survives), you disintegrate him?

Rather than steal Danger Sense from him, he just taps Deku's forehead and spreads Decay during their final battle. Done. The hero is dead. The only person who realistically has any chance of opposing you is gone forever, and his quirk is gone with him. Shigaraki instead decides to be a moron and chase after the death curse quirk that his master JUST died pursuing. Which, of course, gets him killed. One For All is never worth chasing and All For One would have been better off had he just tracked down Bruce one day and gunned him down with a rifle, then left the body where it was after making sure he bled out.

Toga is a case of the author wanting to create a sometimes naked vampire yandere schoolgirl serial killer fetish character but then he decided to add nuance to her later. All the cracks you see in her character? It's because he added shit on later. And it shows. Toga expresses zero real regret. Zero remorse. And no hesitation in hurting people. The Toga we see for most of the series is an unrepentant monster.

Hero plot armor prevents her from killing more people when she really should have, but again it makes you question her supposed lack of restraint. Instead of killing Cammy and drinking her dry when she stole her looks to infiltrate the exam, Toga left her alive. She also held Tsuyu and Uraraka's lives in the palm of her hand but decided not to kill them at the summer camp.

With MHA you have to accept that people are simply able to do whatever the plot demands they need to do, and they behave however the plot wants them to.

With respect to Toga's backstory, it was a tried and tested method of getting sympathy for a character by giving them abusive and neglectful parents. The author used this multiple times, Hawks being a mention from the previous arc.

But all this did was raise more questions than it answers.

And boy are the answers to those questions uncomfortable!

Okay. So, according to the Toga backstory, urges like Toga's are a natural part of having a strong quirk. And, systematically, society teaches people to be "normal" via repression.

Wow. So the previous arc had Muscular present himself as irredeemable and that he likes to kill for Fun. Deku decides to give up on the guy after barely talking to him and takes him down.

Is Muscular one of these people? Does he kill people because his quirk makes him do it? What about Moonfish? We assumed he was just a crazy guy with an obsession for cannibalism. Is that forced upon him by his quirk? This concept was introduced way too late into the manga and it was pointless anyways since the author just killed Toga off.

Why bother trying to make us care about her if the end result is that she just kills herself so she doesn't go to jail?

But back to her parents, they're not even characters. They don't even get names or faces. I assume this was done to make it seem as if they're the generic MHA citizen. So, Toga's parents are how typical people would react to a kid like Toga. You'll notice Hawks' parents both got names and faces. I assume this is what the author was going for.

It's too bad we don't actually have much of a civilian point of view in this story, and Toga was the only example of this phenomenon we follow, so we don't get to see if this was her parents terribly overreacting or if this really is something any of these people would do.

If Spinner hadn't done it, then Izuku wouldn't have gotten any real criticism for failing to save Shigarki. Because he didn't even have the courage to admit he wanted to do that out loud, and he took the first out he was given when Gran Torino told him that killing is another way to save people. No one knew what Izuku was thinking besides the remnants in his quirk. By meeting a friend of Tomura's and delivering his final words, Izuku faces some recrimination.

I like Spinner for the fact that's a radicalized young man who faced discrimination and decided to lash out. He, Toga, and Dabi really show that this society created its own monsters here.

It's just that Spinner is such a nothing character who barely does anything that he falls by the wayside. What fights does this dude get? It's a battle manga and MHA's fights are garbage to begin with, but the fact that his quirk also sucks doesn't help much. He certainly doesn't train himself to be anywhere near as powerful as Stain is. He doesn't do any killing of false heroes or enforcing Stain's will.

He ends as a follower who only survived because the author needed someone to speak to Deku because the author backtracked on letting the villains live.

I want to say that I've NEVER seen a shonen MC who is both as privileged and treated as terribly as Izuku is. The guy gets infinite free handouts, loads of plot armor, and all of his victories are spoon fed to him. He didn't even have to come up with the plan that killed Shigaraki and All For One, his ghosts did it for him.

But the narrative also treats him like a piece of shit, most of the people in his story don't like him, don't acknowledge him, and he barely has any close relationships to the point where Deku vs 1-A was more like a couple of his friends and a bunch of his acquaintances yelling platitudes at him. And then he fails at the goal he set out to do. It would be like if Naruto killed Sasuke and went back on his word after making the fact that he doesn't break promises or go back on his word his entire character.

Some people say that the lesson Deku was meant to learn was that you can't save everyone. What an utterly cynical way to end your manga where everyone has plot armor and can literally will their desires into being. Deku, Eri, Bakugo, and All Might can defy fate, and avoid their destined demises, but apparently saving the bad guy he said he was gonna save was too much.

All For One is a completely incomprehensible character and I don't even pretend to understand him. The big reveal that Decay was just a modified version of Overhaul, because apparently you can just DO THAT (no, the author will NOT elaborate further) means this MFER was sitting on the Overhaul quirk this whole time. Or at the very least had a copy of it ever since he plotted to turn Tenko to he dark side, after arranging the kid's conception.

So he just decides not to use the quirk that would let him effortlessly fix his body. Or even if he somehow couldn't, he could just merge himself with other people who have healthy organs and steal their shit. Apparently the Overhaul quirk enables you to turn yourself into a chimera of you and another person or more, as well as merge yourself into inorganic things and control them, with no chance of rejection. He wouldn't even need to steal One For All using All For One. He could just blow Izuku/All Might up into molecules, then rearrange their bodies into large, fleshy orbs that have no mouths, eyes, or limbs.

He could then graft this orb into his own body and keep it alive by connecting it to his nervous system and then use their quirk for himself.

If the plan was always for Tomura to be possessed by All For One, why even wait to give him the AFO quirk? He could have done that back at the time Izuku received OFA. The process would require Tomura to use All For One's quirk so the remnant inside of the AFO quirk could get a foothold and then possess him.

Alright, so far so good. But, this process would be completed if All For One put his quirk factor into Shigaraki. So, why wait?

Obviously, we don't have a show if AFO skips sending Tomura to the USJ and instead he just tells Shigaraki that he's going to upgrade him so he can level up and become the boss he always dreamed of being.

Izuku would have a pleasant school year and months of zero League activity, not even knowing they were a threat, before getting jumped, his quirk jacked, and then killed by "Tomura Shigaraki."

There's no point in having Tomura "learn lessons." If he exists so you can steal his body. If he was raised and groomed for the purposes of his strong will, and his endless hatred, he possessed ALL of that from when we first saw him! Everything that happened with Tomura acting as his own person was totally pointless for the purposes of AFO's plans.

But again, I don't even pretend to understand this loser.

If he wanted OFA so badly, why the hell did he let All Might escape? He killed Nana Shimura and he knew Toshinori fled with Torino. But, Toshinori didn't even change his name, and we know AFO has "friends" across the globe. What was stopping him from just showing up in America at Toshinori's apartment? He'd still be a weak 17 year old. Nothing compared to who he'd be later. AFO even showed, with the whole Tenko situation, that he's got quirks that can completely alter how he looks. Toshinori could talk to the guy daily and not even know he's really AFO.

Naturally, the answer is "so we have a TV show to watch." It's not satisfying.

The All For One we get after the Kamino arc is an absolute garbage character.

This is part of the issue with The League going from being a bunch of people with different goals and mindsets, to being Shigaraki's squad who don't really question anything and go along with his goals.

The nature of Nomu is absolutely horrific, but the League members complaining would complicate the story, so they don't. They just don't care.

Each of these required the deaths of at least two people. 1 to act as the base body, and more if there's quirks stuffed in it. AFO isn't exactly known for his mercy, so he likely has been murdering people for years, disposing of them, and then moving on with stolen quirks. Why else would he need powers to erase his presence and also alter his blood type to make him undetectable and trackable?

So the League has access to a bunch of zombie quirk soldiers and…it's nothing to them.

The time to humanize these characters was early on, rather than later. The time to give them some degree of morality or something resembling a code or sense of honor was early. The author waited too late to do it so it fell flat.

[elainsgirl]

What is your opinion on the assumption that Nesta did all the house work and Feyre simply didn’t appreciate it because it’s “women’s work”?

Feyre and elain didn’t know how to cook so it can be assumed that Nesta did the cooking. It is also stated that mother Archeron groomed Nesta to be a lady and taught her how to run a household. And people think that Feyre believes cleaning is beneath her.

That being said, Feyre did mention that she prepared the meat. Additionally lady Archeron taught Nesta how to run a lady’s household when they were wealthy. It could be assumed that lady Archeron never imagined that her family would fall into poverty - and so why would she teach Nesta (whom she expected to marry a rich man and have a manor along with a staff of servants) how to cook? If anything, she would’ve taught Nesta how to manage a household with a staff that cooks and cleans for her. I don’t believe that Nesta was taught to cook by her mother when noble ladies rarely had any place in the kitchen. Lastly, I don’t know where the idea that Feyre thinks she’s too good for cleaning/looks down on people who clean is coming from. When Feyre first came to the spring court, she asked Tamlin if she was expected to work - and she was more than willing to help out in the kitchens or do whatever was required around the manor but alis and the other servants refused to let her.

However, it’s also important to note that Feyre is an unreliable narrator. While I don’t believe she’s purposefully biased, I do think she was so focused on keeping her family alive by hunting and trying to scrape together money that she may not have noticed her sisters’ efforts.

Regardless even if she didn’t notice her sisters’ help around the cabin, I don’t think she would ever look down upon it. I don’t know where the idea that Feyre looks down upon other women who have a more feminine/traditional approach to life. In fact, Feyre looks up to elain - who displays her femininity freely and without shame. Feyre respects Alis more than she did Lucien.

But say that Nesta and elain did do all the household chores and Feyre just looked down upon them, I still wouldn’t hate or blame her. It’s easy to forget Feyre is the youngest sister. She wasn’t even twenty during ACOTAR. She was a kid who was afraid of her family dying and doing everything she could to survive.

While I don’t blame Nesta and elain for not hunting, if I was Feyre I would be pretty bitter too if I had to go into a dangerous woods alone every day to hunt for food while my family remained back at the cabin. It’s obviously not Nesta’s and elain’s fault, but it would be a normal reaction for Feyre (who again is young, afraid, and traumatized) to be angry and resentful. And unlike Nesta and elain who grew close during poverty, Feyre had no one. She wa separate and alone.

Sorry for ranting but I just love all the Archeron sisters. I think they’re complex characters that are biased and unreliable. I think they’re young ladies who have been through so much trauma. I think they’re simply trying their best to survive in a world that’s been nothing but cruel to them. And I think that they love each other so much, despite the pain they all inflicted on each other.

Saying Feyre is a bad sister who doesn’t appreciate Nesta or elain is simply not true. Just like saying Nesta doesn’t love Feyre or elain is not true. Or saying that elain doesn’t care for Nesta or Feyre is not true.

They had made mistakes. They all have hurt each other. But at the end of the day, they love each so much.

I believe Nesta and Elain did do somethings around the house and it did go by unnoticed from Feyre as to her it wasn’t important as survival and hunting - making sure they’re fed and have some money was the main priority for Feyre. I don’t think it was deliberate on Feyre’s behalf, but definitely unconsciously.

Mama Archeron would’ve taught Nesta and Elain how to run a house aka bossing about servants and making sure they’re doing their jobs, I highly doubt this arrogant woman went into the kitchen to teach the girls’ first hand how to bake/cook. She definitely wSnt on her knees scrubbing the floors or wiping down doors. Realistically, Nesta and Elain wouldn’t have had much experience in domestic chores themselves - doesn’t mean they couldn’t have learned later on.

People want to justify that what Nesta and Elain did in acotar - or more accurately, what they didnt do - wasn’t *that* bad so they created this whole narrative that Nesta and Elain did housework which Feyre didn’t value as important hence she never mentioned it, it comes from a place of wanting to bring down Feyre and make her seem terrible and misogynistic so Nesta, Elain can look better.

Oh yh, I would 100% be bitter & angry at my sisters if they did nothing to help me out. But thats why Feyre is better and more endearing. She becomes the bigger person and moves on - not holding a grudge for the way she was treated, its what makes her so lovable and why we root so hard for her happiness. Its why her journey of being an abuser, isolated hunter to a loved, respected HighLady is so much more powerful and meaningful.

Each sister is complex. They have their good traits flaws. They definitely each love each other deeply - they’re just a tad bit disconnected which makes senss given their upbringing. Neither is a terrible sister, certainly not Feyre. People who pit them against each other or tries to distance them - clearly don’t understand these characters and their complex relationships with each other.

[theballadofmars]

RANKING MDZS CHARACTERS AS HOW MUCH I THINK THEY WOULD SURVIVE IN FNAF:

11. MO XUANYU: he dies during the first five minutes. Don't know how. He just does.

10. JIN ZIXUAN: he doesn't listen AT ALL to Phone Guy and just...doesn't do a thing? He probably thinks he's too rich to die.

9. JIANG CHENG: he dies the first night. Just, sorry. He wouldn't follow Phone Guy's instructions at all, or try at the beginning but then gets mad and fights the animatronics. Sorry jc you're not winning this one.

8. NIE MINGJUE: he's not fucking surviving more than 2 nights, I'm sorry. He doesn't know how anything works, he survives the first night by sheer stuborness, but gets out of luck on his second night. He dies fighting thought.

7. XIAO XINGCHENG: he actually gets to the second night, but his problem is that he tries to help the children to move on and, unlike lxc, he gets killed.

6. SON LANG: survives 4 nights, but gets bitten by an animatronic and dies from the injury. He's the only other character who makes it to night 4 this is so funny mdzs character's would be amazing at surviving or terrible.

5. WEI WUXIAN: he ALMOST survives, but he gets scooped in night 5. Idk how, because this is based in fnaf 1, but he gets scooped, 100% sure.

4. LAN WANGJI: is lwj. He doesn't involve himself in the drama like his brother, but is able to survive the 5 nights. Never comes back.

3. LAN XICHEN: weird position, because lxc doesn't look like he would be the best with computers, but he's a Lan. He's not only going to survive the 5 nights, he also saves the souls of the murder children, because he would try to talk to the animatronics and give them therapy sesions.

2. NIE HUAISANG: he actually suffers the first night, because he doesn't know what's going on. The second night tought? He already knows the cheats. He survives and as a plus makes a theory about the lore that it turns out to be true.

1. JIN GUANGYAO: listen, LISTEN. He not only survives the five nights, the extra night and the 20/20 mood. He's jgy. Being a night guard at Freddy's is actually a vacation for him. Animatronics aren't worse than rich people. He even gets bored at night 5.

HONORARY MENTIONS FOR CHARACTERS WHO DOESN'T GET TO BE IN THE RANKING BECAUSE THEY'RE A SPECIAL CASE:

-XUE YANG: this fucker messes with the animatronics ans disassembles them for fun. The animatronics are the ones hiding from him.

-THE FOUR JUNIORS + A-QING: they are the kids possesing the animatronics. Sorry juniors :(

-YANLI: befriends the animatronics somehow. She makes them soup :D

-MIAN MIAN: stays one night, survives, never comes back. They don't pay her enough for this bullshit.

-WANGXIAN: they fuck in the security office and the animatronics are traumatized.

-WEN QING: finds the bodies of the kids and reports it do the police

-WEN NING: look, I think he would get springlocked but wouldn't become a vengative animatronic (unless he's possesed). He's just there behind a wall.

-LAN QIRENG: survives because Lan power, but instead of doing his job as a security guard starts to reprimend the animatronics and tries to teach them THE RULES.

Tgcf characters ranking

[elizabeth-mitchells]

thoughts on a reverse yellowjackets au, where laura lee, jackie, javi, mari and co are the adult survivors, and the current adults all die out in the wilderness?

okay finally replying to this!!! i'm sorry it took me so long! and honestly this will be LONG so...

okay so first of all i think it would depend on how the canon survivors die in this au. because on one hand they are so meant to be the survivors and the ones that died are so the ones that had to die. so i imagine a scenario where the canon survivors actually die as soon as in the plane crash. but i honestly don't know how they would survive when they are too busy being so pretty, cute, a little mean, an actual child, a theater kid, and idk rachel? maybe coach martinez would help, probably he would make things worse. anyway i think jackie's grief would kill them all... but then again! without misty there, no one would break the black box and although i support the theory that didn't change anything, maybe they would get rescued soon enough and leave very traumatized but NOT as bad an in canon...

HOWEVERRRR let's play a game where they all switch places

what if the heterosexual coach lived? (he would've gotten killed much sooner i think)

so what if lottie, being the rich girl she is, has been in more private planes and believes she can fly the plane? and she explodes 💥 and laura lee is left behind to turn her into a saint and spread the new religion in the wilderness?

what if jackie was better at arguments and the big fight ended with shauna sleeping outside and freezing to death? and the grief transformed jackie into a vicious leader?

what if crystal panicked when misty threatened HER and she pushed her down the cliff? and so she was forced to take up all of misty's duties?

what if travis died trying to save natalie and javi had to grieve his older brother the rest of his life?

what if the guilt of rigging the card game made van sacrifice for mari, and in her grief tai then died to protect akilah?

what if melissa didn't survive s3 by being shauna's new jackie, and instead gen survived by being jackie's new shauna!!!!!!

THEN 25 YEARS LATER

honestly i can ALSO see laura lee starting a cult hsgjdfhgjfh they're such soulmates that she would follow the same profession as lottie. but honestly she would be worse <3 because religion <3

now jackie would be very interesting. because losing jackie made adult shauna turn into what she thought jackie would be. but i don't think jackie would be like that at all! and even less so if she lost shauna! but i don't think she would live shauna's dream life either... idk i'd have to think more about it but adult jackie after losing shauna makes me think she'd end up more like nat...

crystal... i think she'd be okay? misty's kind of okay though, i think. maybe less efficient. maybe she'd have a terrible theater career but she'd say it's a huge success

honestly javi was so spooky just by seeing the girls howling at the moon that i don't think he'd do much better than travis as a survivor... who knows though! he's the youngest! maybe he'd be the only one to recover and have a mostly normal life with a lot of good therapy!

mari and akilah would be married <3 if this was a no crash au this would be a happy marriage, but the crash did happen and they are messed up and they are both cheating on each other with gen <3