#they never interacted but i just know OKAY

[mourn-and-watch]

honestly making three year timejumps between acts was the smartest decision character development-wise dragon age ever pulled. i don't think da2 has more character interactions/romance content than other games but i think the main reason kirkwall squad's dynamics and relationships with hawke and each other feel so fleshed out and real to me is that the game implies these people were spending time together during literal years. the plot itself moves very quickly but its structure creates an impression that the characters were still given enough time to breathe. like yeah anders' dramatic love confessions would feel hilariously out of pocket if it happened like a week after he met hawke but the guy was pining for a very long time. hawke's reunions with their sibling (whose personality also drastically changes in this time period) would fall flat if they were separated for like a month but they haven't seen each other in years. and i think da2 also conveys the passage of time nicely. character models might not change (would have been a nice touch tho but this game was made in less than a year) but they themselves change due to their circumstances that get progressively worse and this is also the reason why their questlines don't feel rushed. the quests are connected but the Next Big Thing doesn't happen the second you finish the previous quest. it takes time for danarius to get to fenris. it takes time for sundermount demon to ruin merrill's relationships with her clan and her keeper. and it takes time for the qunari and mage/templar conflicts to reach their breaking points and every companion is inevitably affected by it and it wouldn't hit half as hard if all these events happened in a year or so. yeah this is the shortest dragon age game but to me it feels the longest in the best way. i got to spend almost a decade with these guys watching their lives slowly and inevitably fall apart and it successfully devastated me

[sageshouldknowbetter]

Some may be apprehensive that Severance won’t portray Mark’s interaction with Helena in the tent as the sexual assault it was. But not only will they — they already are.

Mark’s behavior toward Helly has completely changed. He doesn’t sit next to her at Irving’s funeral. He shuts down attempts at conversation with offhand, vague snarky comments and a defiantly blank facial expression. When Helly knocks on the door to the bathroom, his eyes dart around like an animal cornered. Where he once would have slowed down for her in the hallway so they could talk, he walks much faster ahead. He’s trying as hard as possible to avoid her. To ignore her. To run away.

Now contrast this with his treatment of “Helly” when she first walked out of the elevator in season two. He waited for her to arrive! He was so relieved she’d come back! And when they were walking down that hallway and he was explaining the situation with Ms. Casey, he stopped mid-stride, turned to her with a smile on his face, and said “Look, Helly—“

He never got to finish that sentence. But some say he was going to confess that though his outie had a wife, his affections lay with her. And I think they’re right.

So why is he acting so differently now? The answer is obvious: “Because they are smarter than us, okay? They know everything.”

After the assault, Mark likely feels like a complete idiot. He spent so much of season one deconstructing his beliefs and breaking free from Lumon’s propaganda. And the minute he believes he’s immune to their lies and no longer a corporate slave, he is taken advantage of and hoodwinked by the very figurehead of said company, masking as someone he loves.

A symbol of Lumon convinced him he was safe. Tricked him. Invaded him in the most intimate way possible, with him completely oblivious, “like an idiot.” Right when he thought everything might be okay.

So maybe Lumon’s right. Maybe there’s no point in fighting. Because if he was stupid enough to not realize his own friend was being possessed by her billionaire doppelgänger, then maybe Lumon is correct about innies being nothing more than pawns. Maybe they are people, and he really is… not. (That’s how Helena treated him, anyway.)

And if that’s the case, of course he wants to give up looking for Ms. Casey and lose himself in work! For a moment he thought he was a human being, deserving of autonomy over his own body and capable of something more than sitting behind a desk — but his assault sends that all crashing down. He is an extension of his outie, made for work and nothing more. Going beyond that gets dangerous. That’s what got Irving killed… and him in Helena’s tent. And Helly? He cannot trust Helly. As far as he knows, his only confirmed moment with Helly since the OTC was when he was holding her in his arms, his jacket wrapped around her shoulders. Why should it be Helly coming back to the severed floor? If Helena could trick him before, who says she can’t learn from her past mistakes and trick him again over and over? Mark refuses to be humiliated and hurt after last time, so he avoids her (and Dylan!) and puts up a barrier of cool, snarky indifference — just like how he deals with grief.

But we know that indifference is a mask. When Milchick walked out of the elevator after revealing he knew about him and Helena Eagan, Mark had no one to pretend for — and he went completely stiff, blankly wide-eyed in an expression extremely reminiscent of his usual innie self. Whatever the reasons for this, one thing’s for sure: Mark does deeply care about what happened in the tent. And at least for now, he will lose himself in Cold Harbor to cope with it.

Lumon certainly got their productive worker back. But good Lord… at what cost?

[cherry-zip]

─ • CSC .ᐟ Tie a Cherry

› content ┆ Choi Seungcheol x fem reader ⊹ genre .ᐟ smut and cute ending ✎ word-count ┆ 2k. ⌁ summary ┆Choi Seungcheol comes home late from work, dressed in his suit and tie, to find his girlfriend waiting in pink pajamas. With a playful pull of his tie, she drags him to the sofa, ready to unwind with a sexy Valentine’s Day gift, filled with affection and desire. ⨯ content warning .ᐟ dry humping, making out, cheol is hot.

✧ happy valentine's day - here's my first even nsfw fic as a gift ✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated! this is my first even nsfw fic so bear with me.

› minor do not interact, you will be blocked

It’s nearly midnight when you hear the familiar sound of Seungcheol’s key turning in the lock. You’ve been waiting for him all night, watching the clock tick steadily past the hours he usually gets home. Though you know how busy he can get with work, it doesn’t stop the small knot of worry from forming in your stomach. Seungcheol had let you know beforehand that he was going to come home late today but that didn’t stop you from waiting.

Had it been any other day you would have already gone to bed, but, it was Valentine’s Day, and you felt the need to stay up for him tonight. You didn’t mind him not being home for this special day—you knew how important work was for him, and it was something that you were okay with.

He would make it up for you. He always did.

Finally, the door creaked open, and there he was —your tired, overworked boyfriend, standing in the doorway with his suit still on. You can practically feel the weight of the day hanging around him. He looked exhausted, his broad shoulders slumped, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he slipped his shoes off.

You watched him for a moment, taking in the sight of him, knowing just how much he’d been pushing himself lately. You can see the strain on his face, the last thing he needs is to be left alone with his thoughts. You wouldn’t let that happen, not tonight at least.

You approached him before he could get too comfortable, stepping softly toward him while wearing one of his shirts paired with pink shorts that left nothing to the imagination. The kind that made you feel both cozy and confident. You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow playfully, but there was a hint of concern behind your teasing gaze.

"You’re late," you say, a gentle accusation in your voice.

Seungcheol looks at you, his lips curling into a tired but genuine smile. "I know, I’m sorry," he says, his voice low, but you can hear the weariness in it. "It’s been one of those days."

You know exactly what he meant. He said it all the time. But it never stopped you from worrying, especially when he’s gone all day, getting caught up in the never-ending cycle of meetings, deadlines, and calls.

"You’re always saying that," you tease, but it’s softer than it sounds. "You’re always working so hard. Are you ever going to let me take care of you?"

A brief pause follows, and you see the hint of guilt flash across his face. You hate when he feels guilty, even though you know he can’t help it.

"I promise I’ll make it up to you," he says, stepping closer as if trying to reassure you—and maybe himself, too.

And he will make it up to you, one way or another. But before he can say anything else, you act on impulse. You reach for his tie, grabbing hold of it with a sudden surge of energy.

"Hey!" Seungcheol laughs in surprise as you pull him toward the couch. He stumbles slightly, but you guide him down easily, tugging him until he’s sitting down.

“Stop laughing,” you say, smirking. “I’m trying to help you relax.”

You sat on his lap, straddling him as your hands worked on his tie, undoing it with practiced ease. His jacket was already slipping off his shoulders, but you weren’t done yet. You could feel the stiffness in his body, the tension clinging onto him even after the long day. You won’t let him stay like this. Not while you’re here. Not while he was under you.

“Let me take care of you,” you murmured, the words soft but firm. "You deserve a break."

He chuckled, but there was something softer behind his laughter. "You always know what I need," he says, his voice low, a little tired but somehow full of affection.

You look at him as you work, your fingers deftly loosening his shirt, watching the tension melt away from his face as you carefully help him strip off the layers of his workday. There was something soothing about this process, it felt grounding in a way, especially when he leaned into your touch. His warmth was comforting—like a weight you’ve come to rely on, something that was as familiar as your own heartbeat. And him, just him - looked so good. 

You’re so in love with this man.

“You always look so serious in that suit,” you tease again, glancing up at him. "It’s good to see you out of it for once."

Seungcheol smiles, a little tired but appreciative. "I’m serious about work, you know that."

“And I’m serious about making you relax,” you reply, your tone playful but affectionate. You begin to unbutton his shirt, your fingers brushing against his skin as you move down each button, carefully peeling away the layers of his day. “Just let me do this for you."

He doesn't fight you. Not really. Instead, he lets you, letting out a slow breath as he sinks into the couch, his hands resting high on your thighs. He looks like he’s falling into a peaceful calm, his posture loosening, the weight of the day falling away.

“Are you cold?” he asks suddenly, his voice soft, as he looks down at your pajamas.

You shrug, not really caring.“I’m fine,” you say with a smile. "But you—" You pause, your eyes flickering to his half-unbuttoned shirt and the tiredness still clinging to him.. "You’re not fine. Let me take care of you, okay?"

He smiles again, the fatigue melting from his eyes as he watches you work. He’s always so serious, always the one taking care of everyone else. 

But tonight? 

Tonight, he was yours to take care of. 

And you clearly had something in mind to make him feel better.

You lean down to kiss him. He hums into the kiss, bringing you even closer to him, arms holding onto your waist tightly. He felt himself growing addicted to feeling the comforting warmth of your body. His tongue softly bit at your bottom lip, making you open up, welcoming his tongue to lick into your mouth. Your hands glide up on his chest to find the nape of his hair. He loves when your hands are in his hair, tugging at it, making him growl loudly. The atmosphere gets hotter from the kisses he gives you, you can’t help but let soft whines escape your lips.

Your reactions made Seungcheol smirk while he kissed you, but that wasn’t going to last for long. Instinctively, you roll your hips down onto him, making him groan against you. All you’ve done so far is kiss, but you both got so worked up—and you loved it.

You keep rolling your hips, small whimpers escaping your mouth as you chase any kind of friction you can get. Your hands slid down onto his shoulders, needing more support as you grinded harder against him.

Seungcheol could feel himself getting hard from the way you were grinding on him and from the way you were whimpering in his mouth. He grabs your hips tightly, shifting you right on top of his clothed cock. You don’t seem to notice at first, but when his cock twitches against your thigh, you pull away from him, staring down.

“Don’t stop moving,” he groans out, you feel his mouth on your neck, slowly biting down as he starts giving you hickeys. “Fuck, I love your moans so much, you sound so good for me.”

He pulled back from your neck so he could see how good you looked, only for him. He curses silently when he sees how much of a mess you are; flushed face, parted mouth letting out moans, and your eyes rolling back in pleasure. You could feel his clothed cock twitch under you.

“Your body is so hot Cheol, so warm, so hard.”

You were desperate in your movement and will to make him cum hard, knowing the man under you felt just as good. You felt proud knowing that it was you who was making him feel that way. You felt the need to get yourself off with him, you needed him.

His hands wandered down, grasping at your ass. He was no better than you, letting out low grunts every single time his hips rolled to meet yours. He helped you roll your hips, grinding harshly down on him.

Seungcheol could easily flip you over and fuck you hard on the sofa but he doesn’t. You had this special moment for him in mind, to pleasure him and he was more than content with where you were now. He tilts his head back, a hiss of air escaping from his clenched teeth as his fingers dig into your hips. He can't stop the little laugh that follows the exhale because you're driving him crazy. Your lips attack his throat as your hips descend sinisterly on his.

“Fuck...” he wanted to get all those clothes off but at the same time, the way you were rubbing against him felt too good. He couldn't even think about telling you what he wanted. He felt like he was going to cum like that.

“You're so hard for me Cheol.”

You hear his low laugh against your jaw before Seungcheol bites the flesh there. You were a fucking tease. He revels in the sound of your breath catching as he wiggles against your own arousal. Your trousers were soaking wet from wanting him so badly.

“You're trying to make me come like this”, Seungcheol's hand tangles in the hair on the back of your head, making you moan his name, as he pulls to look into your eyes. He laughs at the smile on your lips at his words and the feel of your hips rolling against his bulge.

“Will you Cheol? Cum with me just by doing this?” Your head fell on top of his shoulder, licking and biting the available skin.

His hands grip your hips, setting a pace for you as he grinds you harder against him. It doesn’t take long for you to cum, not when he’s holding you and letting out groans of your name. Watching you restlessly chasing your climax pushes him over the edge.

You enjoy the silence only the sound of you both breathing heavily can be heard, slowly coming down from your high. Seungcheol holds you regardless of how hot you two feel.

“Can we just stay like this for a while?” he murmurs, his voice almost barely above a whisper. "I haven’t been able to relax properly in so long."

Your heart swells, and without saying a word, you shift closer to him, resting your head against his chest. You love the feeling of his strong arms holding you; you would never refuse him. The familiar rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his skin — that was all you needed to know that everything was okay.

"Yeah," you reply softly, your voice barely audible. “We can stay like this as long as you need.”

The world outside falls silent, and all that’s left is the sound of his heartbeat and your own, in your quiet home. You cherished these moments.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers after a long while.

You raise your head to look at him, your fingers gently brushing across his jaw. "You do," you reply simply, your voice full of affection. "You just need to remember how to breathe sometimes."

He smiles, a slow, genuine curve of his lips. "I’ll try to remember. Happy Valentine’s Day my love, I’ll make it up for you."

You know he will make it up eventually. It’s during moments like these—when his arms tighten around you— that you realize nothing else matters. Work, deadlines, all the pressures—those things can wait. What matters now is the peacefulness between you and the way you fit together in this small, quiet space.

For tonight, home isn’t a place. It was just the two of you, tangled together on the couch, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the world outside forgotten.

✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated! › anonymous review form & join my taglist

@ credits┆big thanks to @kyeomofhearts for beta & proof reading the hell outta this fic ☆彡 honestly can't thank you enough, even if i have to bully you into writing more @ credits┆also gonna thank @shinysobi, @tusswrites and even the crazy @hisnowbie2 for helping me out coming up with a title ☆彡

❀ a/n┆ yes, this is real. My first ever NSFW fic is officially out

☘︎ taglist: @zozojella, @shinysobi, @kyeomofhearts

‧₊ ᵎᵎ “CHERRY.zip" 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮

[leriexoxo]

STOLEN TOUCHES (H.J x Reader)

Pairing: Jisung x afab! Reader (college au)

Tags: smut, 18+ mdni, unprotected sex, breeding, alcohol, cheating, p in v, oral (f receiving), best friends brother, noona kink.

word count: 5k+ words

Summary: Jisung had been in love with his best friends older sister for as long as he could remember, unfortunately she never saw him as anything more than her brothers friend, until that night at a frat party.

You just caught your boyfriend cheating at the party he wasn’t supposed to be at, hurt and vengeful, you decided to get shitfaced and make a few mistakes of your own, in this case the mistake was Jisung, your little brothers best friend.

Minors DO NOT INTERACT!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You lived in a neighborhood close your college with your brother Felix, who had a group of friends that he had stuck with ever since 3rd grade; Chan, Leeknow, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin. You saw them around so much so that the presence of two or more in your house everyday was a constant.

As Felix’s older sister, you naturally were very protective of him and you subconsciously mothered him alot, which inevitably extended to a few of his friends who were the same age as him or younger; Jisung, Seungmin, Hyunjin and Innie, those were the few ones who practically lived at your house. There wasn’t so much of an age gap between you and your brother, you gave him only three years making you his oldest friend, Chan’s age.

That evening, your girlfriends had invited you to the biggest frat party happening on campus and you were reluctant about going, but you had not seen your boyfriend San for a few days and he had promised to take you out that weekend. You picked up your phone and shot him a quick text

You: Baby, where are you right now?

10 minutes later, his typing bubble popped up, disappeared and then popped up again. Huh.

San: At my friends studio… whats up?

You: Jihyo told me about the party at Kappa house tonight, are you gonna be there? I wanna go with you babe.

San: Oh no no! Kappa? I’m not going

You: Why?

San: I’m a bit tied up at the studio, I cant make it back to campus today. You’re not going right?

You: Well i wanted to go with you, otherwise ill go with the girls.

His bubble showed him typing again for a while before disappearing. What?

San: I dont want you to go babe, there’s gonna be a lot of dudes there and i can’t protect you.

You: Sweet of you baby, but i dont need protection, i’ll be fine

San: Just listen to me babe? Get your girls to do a movie night or something 🥺 i don’t want you to go without me, please?

Why was San acting weird? It wasn’t a big deal for you to go to the party if he wasnt coming, you had attended several parties without him before. You frowned at your screen, not entirely enjoying being told what to do. Another message popped up on your screen, one from the girl’s groupchat.

Jihyo: y/n are you gonna be ready in 10 minutes?? I’m already on the way to yours

You looked at the message, then back at your outfit you already laid you and thought fuck it.

You: I have not even showered as we speak so i know damn well i wont be ready in 10 😂

Jihyo: Girl i’m leaving you tf 😂 you can be your own ride!

You: Okay ill catch up with y’all at the party!

You put your phone down and started to get ready, taking your time since you were gonna be the one taking yourself to the party, faintly in the background muffled by the sound of the shower, you heard a door slam somewhere in the house and voices start to fill out, you guessed Felix was home with his friends.

~

Life’s a fucking bitch

That’s what you thought as you angrily stomped down the crowded frat staircase, away from the fucking spectacle you had just witnessed in one of the bedrooms on the second floor.

He was fucking some other bitch! He said he wasnt coming to the party but you opened the door and found your boyfriend ramming his stupid dick is some other bitches ass?! You were furious! He said he was going to be holed up at the fucking studio!! He lied?!

He didn’t even notice you, too far gone and lost in cheating, he didn’t hear you yell “WHAT THE FUCK SAN?!” over the blaring music. He didnt notice you storm out in tears either.

You grabbed the first solo cup you saw on the nearest table and threw back the contents, it tasted like shit but it burned your throat and that was exactly what you needed, your mind begging to forget, you found another half empty tequila bottle and tipped it back, ready to get yourself shitfaced and let the future you deal with the aftermath.

You had been dating San for the past 8 months, it wasn’t like you had the best relationship, he was constantly flirting with girls in his faculty, he always partied without you and lied alot and to top it off, your brother and his friends absolutely hated him but you still stubbornly ignored all the red flags and stayed with San, not ever entirely believing all the cheating rumors you heard cos you trusted him, that is until a few minutes ago. Now you felt angry and numb and you wanted to hurt him back.

On the other end of the crowded room, Jisung was hanging back against the frat wall beside Hyunjin and Minho, the party was in full swing and more than half the gang was already shitfaced or on the dancefloor, but as the designated drivers, himself and Minho stuck to drinking energy drinks and soda, while Hyunjin was sipping on whatever mixture he had in his solo cup chattering excitedly about the girl who just gave him her number, he tuned them out when he noticed you angrily stomp down the stairs, knocking peoples cups over and earning a series of “what the fucks” in your wake.

Curiously, his eyes followed you as you grabbed a cup and chugged its contents, He frowned, automatically wanting to go to you but stopping himself from pushing off the wall and making his way over, he was pretty sure that cup wasn’t yours and that was not very much a y/n thing to do.

Jisung wanted to go and stop you when you picked up an open tequila bottle but he knew that It wasn’t his place to do that, he hadnt even expected to see you at the same frat party, earlier when he drove to your house to pick up Felix and the guys, he hadnt seen your car in the driveway and assumed you were off somewhere else.

Jisung had secretly harbored a crush on you for a while now, he loved everything about you, often catching himself staring at you when he was over at Felix’s, the only other person who knew how he really felt about you was Minho and that was only because nothing ever skipped him. Now watching you cleary angry and about to make alot of bad decisions, Minho nudged him with an elbow.

“Shouldn’t you go check on Noona?” He said nodding towards your direction, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Do i have to-“ Jisung started to pretend as if he didn’t actually want to go to you already, but immediately stopped in his tracks when he saw some weirdo sidle up behind you. “Okay scratch that, I’ll be right back”

He dropped his cup on the closest chair and started making his way over to you, ignoring Minho’s annoying laughter.

You were swaying your head to the loud music, hands in the hair and the contents of the bottle in your hand sloshing over, the alcohol hit you fast as you were never really much of a drinker but atleast it had you where you wanted right now. In your hazy state you felt a hand come around your waist from behind. Unfamiliar hands. You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Go awayyy” you said, words slurring as your head spun. You pushed the hands away from you, turning your back once again and taking another swig of the tequila.

“Y/n! Noona”

Your head snapped up when you heard your name, squinting to try to make out the face of the otherwise familiar voice that called you, you looked ahead of you into the large body of people melted together in a sea of sweat, smoke and neon lights.

Jisung.

Your brain hissed the name of your little brothers best friend, as he appeared in your line of sight. Through the undulating bodies, strobing multicolored lights and pulse of the speakers.

“Sungie?” You ask, squinting up at him as he got closer to where you stood.

“Are you okay Noona? I think you’ve drank enough of that” He said, gently taking the bottle away from you which caused you to whine in protest.

“Nooooo! I was drinking that” You made grabby hands at it but he lifted the bottle above his head and out of your reach.

“What are you even doing here?” You asked again in a pout, subconsciously leaning into him for support.

“I’m here with Felix and the guys, we didn’t know you were coming to this party too” he said, gently placing his free hand at your back and steering you away from the center of the dancefloor.

“Oh? I was supposed to be here with my stupid boyfriend” *hiccup* “but he lied and said he wouldn’t come here!” You complained, words slurring at how tipsy you had become.

Han raised an eyebrow at the information, turning to scan the crowd for Choi San, your music major boyfriend who he absolutely despised. He couldn’t find him anywhere.

“Where’s he then?”

Annoyed, you pushed away from him to glare as if Jisung was the cause of your problems, “i just walked in on him cheating on me upstairs”

Jisung stopped in his tracks, staring at you wondering if he heard you wrong “what?”

“He’s up there fucking some other bitch Sungie! And he didn’t even notice me walk in.. *hiccup* I hate him!” You yelled, eyes welling up with tears for the second time that night.

Jisung saw red. He clenched his fists and glared up at the stairs, torn between taking care of you and going to find San to rip his head off.

“I think i’m going to thr-“ you words got cut short as you hunched over and emptied the contents of your stomach right there in the corner of the room, all over the floor and on yourself.

“Oh shit! Are you okay noona?!” Jisung asked for the third time that night, his eyebrows rose up in shock and he tried to hold you but it was too late.

“I feel sick..” you muttered

“Lets get you cleaned up”

He pulled off his jacket and threw over your shoulder and basically carried you into the nearest free room he could get to. Once in, he set you down on your feet by the bathroom door and held it open for you.

“Can you clean yourself up? Or do i need to get your friends? Are they here? Do you need help?” Jisung rambled, unsure what to do.

You grimaced, looking down at yourself and instantly starting to regret drinking so much so fast, you fingered at the edge of your soiled crop top, wanting to peel it off but too weak to actually make the move, you barely registered Jisungs panic mode beside you.

“Off… want it off” you whined

“You want me to… do it myself?” He stuttered

“I want it offff” you started to throw a small tantrum, palming at the shirt and soiling your hands even more.

“Shit okay okay I’ll help you”

He hesitantly pinched the clean part of the top and helped you peel it off over your head, all the while he kept his head firmly facing away from you in order to provide privacy.

He heard you struggle some more before letting out a sad whine sounding almost like you were about to cry.

“Sungie it’s so hot…,” you murmur, tugging at your jeans buckle. "Can you take off my jeans…?". You look at him with puppy dog eyes.

He audibly sucks in a breath, ears turning bright red at the thought of having to see you in any state of undress, he sighs and turns around to help you.

"Fine, I'll help you take them off Noona" He gingerly reaches towards your fly to pop the button, all the while keeping his eyes trained on his hand and not letting them wander.

In his peripheral vision though he realized that you were completely bare under the shirt you had tossed, Jisung gulped hard, his brain short circuiting for a moment before you sighed in relief as you took over undressing and started to peel off your jeans while you staggered into the bathroom and closed the door.

Jisung stood frozen in his spot, the image of you full perky breasts burning into his memory. Heat and blood rushed to his cock immediately filling him out. He knew he had to get the fuck out of that room and fast. But leaving you there in that state would mean letting anyone come in to take advantage of you and that was even worse.

The sounds of the shower turning on and a little ruckus from you struggling to get clean in your tipsy state came through the bathroom door, Jisung gulped hard, his imagination was running wild, there was literally only a door separating him from your naked form in the bathroom, he could already imagine the water cascading down your soft skin and God those fucking tits? He groaned dragging his palm over his face, he was so down bad for his best friend’s sister and there was nothing he could do about it.

He knew he absolutely had no chance for several reasons, the most being that you never looked at him that way, except as your little brother’s best friend who you babied alot, another reason being that Felix would absolutely kill him if he ever knew he thought about his sister like that.

The water stopped running and Jisung stood alert, not knowing what to do with himself as he heard you finish.

“Sungie?” You called.

“I’m here…?” he called back, almost like a question than an answer.

You gingerly opened the door a little and poked your head out to him.

“I dont have a shirt” you said in a small voice, you were already feeling a little better after you threw up and washed yourself, but the pain and anger from earlier still lingered. You were a bit more sober than before with just an underlying buzz.

His eyerows immediately shot up, completely disappearing under his bangs, he rushed to pull off his own shirt to offer to you without really thinking. “Oh right! Sorry you can put this on!” He said, stretching a very toned and musclar arm towards you.

Your eyes locked onto his body. Wow.

You hadn’t seen him shirtless for years now and you had heard in passing that one of Felix’s friends had gotten tattoos but you never really bothered to know who it was or what they got, so the markings of ink on your little brother’s best friend’s body was not something you expected to see.

He had a compass on his right pec, along with a gothic text saying BLESSED, and some smaller sentences underneath it that you could not quite make out. You let your eyes roam even further, checking out his very tight and toned body, he wasn’t as big as San but damn was he fine!

Without really meaning to, you took a step closer to get a better look at the writing on Jisung’s tattoo, in the process letting go of the door you hid behind. He instantly turned red, eyes nearly popping out of its socket when he saw your naked tits for the second time that night.

“Your tattoos,” you reached for his chest, tracing your fingernail along the smaller writing, which in turn caused Jisung to shudder under your touch. “What do they mean?”

Completely stupefied, His mouth hung open his words failing him. “Wh-what?”

You took another step closer, stepping completely into his space still blissfully unaware that you were flashing him as you had nothing but your panties on, Jisung wanted desperately to look away, to respect you but he was having a hard time taking his eyes off your beautiful body. The way your full perky breasts danced with each breath and movement, he watched as you stared in awe at his own body, not even bothering to hide your approval, your palm laid flat over the BLESSED ink and your other hand came up to touch him too like you were examining an expensive piece of sculptural art.

“Beautiful” You muttered wistfully under your breath but still he caught it, it was when your fingers lightly brushed over his nipples that he jolted out of his temporary paralysis. His hand instantly flew up to stop yours from causing more damage to his resolve.

“Noona! Wait, I… your shirt?” He offered weakly. The tip of his ears had turned a pretty shade of red, he hadn’t had any alcohol but at this point, he was the one who looked more tipsy between the two of you with his red face and dilated pupils.

“So pretty”

Your brain supplied the only two simple words that occupied it as you looked up to meet his eyes, seeing him like that with such a fucked out expression instantly had you realizing the state of your undress which he had just pointed out. That sobered you up completely.

Jisung knew the moment he saw your eyes widen, that you had just now realized the position you both were in, he fully expected you to scream or run back into the bathroom or something. Anything. You only just stared back at him in mild shock but you didn’t move, you didn’t even take your hands off his body, it was like you were frozen in place but very much assertive.

You knew at that moment that you were about to do something really fucking stupid. You knew you were going to regret it, but stubbornly you wanted to leave the consequences for future y/n to handle, you could worry about all that shit later, hell you could even blame it on the alcohol but right now, you were hurting and you needed to numb the pain, you needed to forget.

With newfound courage, you leaned in closer, standing up on your tippy toes and your eyes flitting from his own eyes to his soft looking lips and back.

Jisung knew instantly what was about to happen, the atmosphere in the room was suddenly charged and you could literally cut the tension with a knife. As you pressed your breasts to his chest when you stood on your toes to reach him, he knew at that point that he had lost the battle between common sense and his already raging boner.

“Fuck it” He swooped down and captured your lips, meeting you halfway there and you instantly melted into him.

Your hands slid up his body and found purchase behind his neck, he in turn wrapped his arms around your small waist, pulling you impossibly closer and deepening the kiss. You both moved against each others lips, seemingly not being able to get enough of each other, the kiss went from gentle to heated in a matter of seconds, both your hands groping each other wildy.

The two of you stumble backwards and fall on the bed, only breaking apart for him to pepper kisses along your jawline and down your neck.

You straddled him already feeling how much he wanted you, his impressive length sat thick and hard against your butt, your underwear being only material separating you from him.

“I need to know if you’re sure about this” he mouthed against your neck, “Noona, if we dont stop now-“

“I dont know what i want Ji, but i dont want to stop” you moaned, grinding down on his member and eliciting a desperate groan from him.

He pulled you away from him just to scan your face, he wasnt sure who even looked more fucked out between the both of you. You lifted your body off him climbing down from the bed completely, not breaking eye contact you hooked your thumbs onto your panties and slowly pulled, gyrating your hips in a sexy manner and watching his eyes follow every movement. Jisung visibly swallowed when you kicked off the offending material and stood before him in your birthday suit.

You had to be the most beautiful creature he ever set his eyes on, he could hardly believe he wasn’t in one of his wet dreams where you were a regular visitor.

Jisung sprawls to a sitting position on the bed, legs opened wide, head lifted and eyes on you, beckoning you closer.

"Sungie-" you crawl on the bed and kneel between his open thighs, raking a hand through his messy hair.

He tilts his face upwards, sitting up taller, "Yes Noona."

His hands ghost on the outside of your body, not touching, but asking wordlessly for permission to touch. You groan, climbing into his lap and grasping one of his hands to press it into your ass.

Jisung moans your name, fingers biting into the bare cheek of your ass as he tumbles back onto the bed just as your lips ghost over his.

"Let me take care of you" You whisper to him.

He responds with his hands greedily trying to roll your hips into his trapped erection. You giggle at that, drawing out another groan from him along with a string of profanities.

Sitting up, you press your full weight into his pelvis, Jisung starts to whine underneath you, bucking into your soft ass.

"Tsk tsk, don't get so worked up just yet," you kiss his cheekbone before sitting back.

You come into his space after taking in the view of him beneath you, you plant a soft kiss to his lips and down his cheek, along his jaw and neck. As your hands work to unbutton his jeans, he lifts his hips with your guidance and you gift him another soft kiss before pulling them off and tossing along with your other discarded clothing.

The air between the two of you sizzles with anticipation. Slowly, tauntingly you reach up to cup him through his briefs, watching as his head kicks back with a pitchy groan.

“I want you to taste me Ji” you said before gently pushing him back to lie against the pillows.

He followed your lead, lying back and gazing up at you as you straddled him. He touched every expanse of your skin that was within his reach, your breasts, your stomach, your ass, he grabbed at everything. It was like he wanted to memorize every curve and contour of your body.

Your cunt was already drenched, you had soaked a wet patch through his briefs, leaving a pussy sized stain on it. You then lifted yourself, moving to positioning yourself so your cunt was hovering over his head.

“Wanna cum on your mouth…” you said before letting your body down on his waiting mouth.

He looked up at you with those beautiful eyes, eyes that were already rolling back at your taste.

He lapped at your folds, tongue fucking into your core. You grabbed his hair rolling your hips on his tongue. As you rolled your hips you leaned back to grab his cock through his soiled briefs, his precum staining the underwear and making more of a mess that you left it.

He jumped at the sudden touch making him groan. You started moving your hand on him, squeezing and pumping him faster and faster knowing he wasn’t gonna last.

“Keep that up and i’m gonna cum” he choked out. You let go of him making him whine ruining his high.

“Please” he whimpered.

“Why should I let you cum when you haven’t even made me cum yet hmm?” You teased.

Jisung was now on a mission, sucking at your clit as you rode his face. He nibbled on you ever so gently, the moan you let out had his head spinning .

You were getting close- He was already there and desperately fucking into your hand for a release.

His hands found their way to your hips pulling you down onto him as far as you could, basically smothering himself in your cunt. His hands slinking their way up your chest to twist at your hardened sensitive nipples. As much as you wanted to protest you didn’t, feeling your high quickly approaching. Something he knew all too well was that you needed his touch, you craved it as much as he craved yours.

“I need you to cum for me! Please Noona” he begged. Those pretty eyes stared up at you with desperation. You snapped. Pulling his hair harshly as your thighs closed around him. Your orgasm came crashing down on you like a tsunami.

When you finally came down from your high and your legs stopped trembling, you moved yourself back down and without a warning, pulled him free of his briefs and you sunk yourself down taking his throbbing cock fully. Your cunt fit so perfectly on him.

“Fuuuuuckkkk”, He moaned out, body twitching like he was trying to get away, “You’re - I’m-“

He couldn’t even get out the words before he was cumming inside of you, cock twitching deep inside you, you rolled your hips as you felt him pump you full of cum over and over again, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his hands gripping your waist so tight you were sure it would leave nail marks.

“I’m sorry!” he said in a whisper, closing his eyes tight and not being able to bring himself to look at you, and yet he made no move to pull you off because guess what? His cock was still very hard.

You started to move up and down on his sensitive cock, not caring about his overstimulation. His hands gripped at your hips pathetically whimpering.

“Then make it up to me Sungie” you smirk, not slowing your movements, you knew he had more in him judging by how he was still rock solid inside you.

Jisung easily lifted you with his arms and flipped you over, you landed under him and he sunk back into your sopping heat in one stroke, your cunt already slick and messy with your mixed juices.

“I can do that y/n” his eyes darkened and it was like he flipped a switch the moment he flipped you over, something primal was dancing behind his eyes.

“Oh God!” You moaned as he started to thrust into you, creating a sharp and steady tempo, his skin slapped yours repeatedly making pornographic lewd sounds that mixed with the music in the background.

He doesn't relent fucking into your cunt, looking down at where you were joined and watching how you were literally sucking him in, Jisung felt as though his eyes might roll to the back of his head from the sight alone.

"Fuck, you feel so fucking tight," he groans, throwing his head back as he pistons his hips as if to match the beat of the music outside. “So good”

"Jisung!" you yell, you felt yourself quiver as your orgasm slammed into you with the onslaught of his cock on that sweet spot he kept hitting that had your back arching.

He picked up your left leg and threw it over his shoulder, creating a deeper angle, he felt like he might have convulsed from pleasure in that moment.

Jisung had his mind set, he was going to ‘make it up to you’ as you wanted and to do that, he wasn’t going to stop until you were shaking, sobbing mess, until you marked his back with your pretty nails murmuring nothing but his name over and over like a prayer. Even if this was going to be his only opportunity, he wanted to fuck the memory of San out of your body.

He was rutting his hips into yours so desperately now, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and eyebrows drawn together as he tried to hold himself back from spilling inside of you again, he needed to make this last, but the way you were clenching around him and fucking him back, the way your body responded to every movement had his self control hanging by a thread.

"Sungie! Please please- ah fuck! Please" you begged, pulling his head down and biting into his neck as your second orgasmn crashed down on you, your body convulsed beneath him, you saw white.

“I’m cumming!” You managed to gasp.

"That’s it Noona, just a little longer and i’m gonna fill you up so fucking good" Jisung mutters.

He felt you squeeze and clench around him again as he fucked you through your orgasm. he couldn’t hold out much longer, so gathered the last of his energy to slam his cock against your slippery warm walls so fucking hard you has practically become one with the bed.

“I’m cumming! Take it baby” he groaned. His hips stilled as he gave you ropes and ropes of his cum.

Jisung scattered wet kisses all over your face and chest as he slowly pumped out the last bits of his cum into your spent cunt. You both panted heavily as you came down from your highs, holding onto each other tightly like you were scared you would drift away.

A comfortable silence fell upon you both and you separately wondered about the events that just happened, you ran your fingers through his hair that had gotten damp with sweat, he lifted his head to search your eyes.

“Are you okay y/n” he asked in a small voice, the primal version of him suddenly back in its shell. “Did i hurt you?”

You smiled sweetly at him. “No you didn’t sungie, i can handle it” you winked and he blushed red.

“Okay noona, but i think its time to get you home for real” Jisung said, standing and retreating to the bathroom to get towels so he could clean you up. You made to sit up and follow him but he shook his head no and gestured that you lie back down.

You knew that by morning, after the hangover you were sure to get, you were going to be in a whole lot of shit, but you just allowed yourself a night of escape, you would think about what you had done later, right now all you wanted was to be taken care of by your little brothers best friend who had just fucked the living daylights out of you.

***

Authors Note: This was a result of my horny friends imagination! I just brought it to life!

Please leave a like and reblog if you love it!

[about-faces]

Saw a post from a Nightwing fan that was like “oh my god there’s someone out there who seriously would like to see Two-Face in the BatFam, WTF?! After what he did to Dick?! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

….

…

… Anyway, here’s why I think Harvey Dent should be in the BatFam.

For starters, I think it would be a wonderful way to incorporate Bruce’s long-standing love for Harvey in a situation where he gets to interact with a variety of young people who either have personal beefs with Harvey and/or have little sympathy/reason to care about him. We’ve already seen the potential of Harvey and Jason interacting and how fantastic that was for both characters.

I want to see Harvey (specifically a Harvey whose good side gets to be present and distinct, if not in complete control for the time being) interact with Dick, who hates him and—like some of his fans—completely disregards Harvey’s history of mental illness and internal struggles to overcome Scarvey. Extra points if they incorporate the Robin: Year One origin with Dick being beaten by Two-Face (which is not currently canon, btw), something that Harvey would never have done if he was in his right mind or even in control at the time. He was subsumed by his worst side to the point that Two-Face outright genuinely considered Harvey “dead,” but Dick neither knows nor cares about that, and I’d like to see that explored outside of a typical hero/villain environment.

I want to see Harvey interact with Damian and Cass, who each might have his own opinions about Bruce’s ongoing belief in someone’s inherent goodness, heroism, and worth, no matter how much blood is on one’s hands or how they were raised.

I want to see Cass and Steph both reckon with Harvey’s own history of abuse at a father’s hands, and how one tries to struggle against the cycles of violence. Is Harvey a victim of how he was raised, or is he a monster for not overcoming his trauma like they did? I want know if the compassion Cass extended to Clayface could also apply to Harvey. I want to know if either woman would have any empathy for Harvey, or condemn him as being reprehensible and irredeemable.

I want Babs to have a backstory where she, as a kid, knew and liked Harvey, and the two bonded over having alcoholic fathers, something which no one can understand if they haven’t experienced it.

I want to see if Duke has any feelings about a once-good man who was transformed into something he does not want to be, much in the way his own parents were victims of Gotham’s monsters.

I want Tim to better understand Harvey’s psyche, to see if he still thinks that Harvey is someone who “chooses” to become Two-Face again after every redemption attempt.

I want more interactions between Harvey and Jason, acknowledging them as twin symbols of Bruce’s failure who both became murderous mob bosses. How many orphans has Jason created? Why is Jason welcomed back in but not Harvey? Is it because Harvey nearly beat a Robin to death, just like Damian did with Tim? Is it okay to excuse/forgive a brainwashed child but not a severely mentally ill adult who had no control over his worst side? Why or why not?

I want to know which BatFam members would even notice all the ways that Bruce and Harvey are so similar, mirrors to each other with Harvey being the one who lost everything, including his own identity and sanity. I want to know what their takeaways would be, or if they’d even care. I want to know if any of them would realize that Bruce could easily fall like Harvey without the love and support they provide as a family, which Harvey lacks?

Remember A Lonely Place of Dying? Harvey without Gilda and Batman without Robin, both evenly matched in a mutually-suicidal death spiral, broken only when Tim emerged in Bruce’s life? Would Tim draw those parallels? Would any of them? Would it even matter?

Because not all of the BatFam can or should have empathy for Harvey. No family, not even the BatFam, should end every disagreement with Full-House-style hugs and apologies. Sometimes you just hate or don’t even care about other family members, and that’s fine! But I still want to see those relationships explored and hashed out within the context of family.

On top of it all, I want some acknowledgement that Harvey was Bruce’s first and only ally back in Batman: Year One before Gordon came around to Bruce’s side. That Harvey was the ONLY person in Gotham trying to fight against the forces of the mob and cops alike before Bruce returned and Jim rolled into town. That he, as Batman’s ally and the youngest DA in Gotham history, was the original Boy Wonder of Gotham City. That Bruce’s failure to save Harvey has hung over each and every one of his relationships and connections in the BatFam.

Finally, I want to see Harvey in the BatFam because I want to know that, no matter what you’ve done or become, there will still be some people out there who are holding out for you to come back. That you may not be forgiven by all or even most of them, but you’re still worthy of love. And even if/when Harvey loses his battle with himself again, I want some of the BatFam to react with sympathy, some having changed their perceptions about the man they only knew as Two-Face. That maybe, occasionally, the criminals they fight aren’t monsters but just broken people, lost to some combination of circumstance, upbringing, mental illness, and personal choices. I want to see them reckon with that. I think that would be important.

And okay yeah sure I’d also like to see Harvey take them all out for pizza and games at Chuck E Cheese’s or something like that. I just think that’d be neat.

Anyway. I hope that all makes more sense now for anyone still wondering. I’ll finish up with proof that Harvey being in the BatFam has actually been touched on in comics, from the gatefold cover of Hush (that’s Harvey, not Hush, with the bandages), DC Future State, and DC Bombsells.

So there’s a fuzzy sort of precedent for Harvey fitting in with the BatFam. I just hope someone at DC will eventually share my vision, even if some BatFam fans never will.

[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES (5/???)

Happy Valentine, babes!! (1 day late, but that's okay)

I hope my valentines like the gift 💕

Enjoy it! <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio X Fem Reader

Summary: You think you're independent, but Agatha disagrees.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist.

Domain

The filming of Agatha's new movie was everything you expected and, at the same time, so much more. The set was an organized chaos: people running back and forth, lights being adjusted, voices blending into a sea of commands. You had never worked so hard in your life, and yet, it felt like you were never doing enough.

Agatha was a force of nature on set. Harsh, demanding, relentless. Every detail mattered, every movement was rehearsed to exhaustion, and her voice cut through the air like a blade when something was out of place. Despite the frantic pace, you couldn’t help but admire how she seemed to have absolute control over everything around her.

A few days had passed since you moved into their house, and in that time, the world you once knew felt like it had completely changed. The house, once strange and imposing, now carried a warmth you had never felt anywhere else.

Mornings were peaceful, marked by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the subtle voices echoing through the hallways. But there was something more—something that made your heart race: Rio and Agatha’s attempts at touch. They were light at first, almost innocent, but they were becoming constant, and that terrified you. Not because they were invasive, but because you were becoming greedy.

It was a silent, almost shameful desire.

You wanted more.

More of the warmth of Rio’s fingers grazing your skin as she handed you a cup of tea. More of the way Agatha slightly tilted her head while watching you, as if she already knew exactly what you were feeling. More of the security that came with being there, wrapped in the space they offered you.

That feeling of belonging seemed too new and fragile, as if it could disappear at any moment. And maybe that was what made you crave it so desperately—the fear that if you didn’t hold on tightly enough, it would all slip through your fingers.

They always seemed to need you close. Dinners were long, filled with conversations you sometimes didn’t even know how to participate in, but somehow, you were never left out. Rio smiled in a way that sent shivers down your spine, and Agatha always knew when your mind wandered to places you didn’t dare admit. They were patient, but you saw the anticipation in their eyes, the thread of tension in their unspoken words.

And the nights… the nights were different.

They didn’t sleep as deeply as you imagined. Agatha, especially, was silent but watchful. She told herself there was only one reason for it: to make sure you weren’t overworking yourself, that nothing disrupted the delicate balance you brought into that house. That justification was enough to silence the more uncomfortable questions in her mind.

But in the past few nights, as she watched you sleep, something was changing.

Agatha sat in the armchair in the corner of the room, her hands resting on her lap, but her eyes fixed on you. Your face was serene as you slept, and the way you looked so small and vulnerable in bed made something unsettling stir in her chest.

There was something about the way your hair fell on the pillow, the way your breathing was so soft, the way you looked… beautiful. Not just physically, but in a way Agatha couldn’t define. It was an all-encompassing beauty, something that went beyond appearance. Something rooted in your sweetness, in the way you tried to please, even when you were so scared.

And that was what disturbed her the most. You were sweet, so incredibly sweet, and at the same time, so shy—so eager to do what was asked. Not out of fear, but because you wanted to trust, you wanted to be seen.

And Agatha was seeing it. She was seeing how, little by little, you were beginning to trust her and Rio. You were no longer as hesitant with their touches, even if you still blushed every time they teased you. You were starting to open small windows into your personality, tiny glimpses of courage and vulnerability that seemed tailor-made to break through their defenses.

But one night, a storm raged outside, thunder rolling across the sky as if summoned by something deep and wild. The rain pounded against the windows, casting dancing shadows across the room in the flickering lightning. You were lost in your dream, but to you, it was more than just a dream; it was an echo of something old, a trauma that had never truly healed.

In the dream, you were standing in an empty, gray field, the ground beneath your feet dissolving into nothingness. And then you saw her. Your mother. But she had her back to you, her figure shrouded in a pale light that made it impossible to see her face.

"Mom?" Your voice came out hesitant, like a child just learning to speak. You took a step toward her, but it felt like the closer you got, the farther away she became. "Mom, please, don’t go..."

She didn’t respond. She didn’t turn to you. She just kept walking.

"Please, don’t leave me! I need you!" You cried out, your voice rising in desperation. Tears burned your eyes as you ran, trying to reach her, but every step was harder than the last. It was as if the ground was crumbling beneath you, and with each movement, you sank deeper into the darkness.

"Mom! Please!" You fell to your knees, arms outstretched toward her. She stopped for a brief moment, and you held your breath. Maybe she would look back. Maybe…

But no. Without turning, she took another step and disappeared, dissolving into the void.

You fell. Literally fell, as if the ground had split open beneath you. The wind roared in your ears, the world around you becoming a mass of darkness. And as you plummeted, your voice broke into a desperate scream: "Mommy!"

But just when it seemed like nothing would catch you, that you were destined to be swallowed by the void, you felt something. A warm touch. Firm hands.

You opened your eyes, gasping, tears streaming down your face. You were no longer in the void—you were in your bed. A soft, delicate hand stroked your hair, while a soothing voice whispered, "We’re here..."

It was Rio. Her voice was low, almost a lullaby, and for the first time, you realized how she could seem incredibly strong and gentle at the same time.

"Shh… you’re okay," Rio continued, pulling you lightly into her arms. You clung to her without thinking, as if she was the only thing anchoring you in that moment.

But it wasn’t just Rio. When you lifted your gaze, you saw Agatha sitting at the edge of the bed. Her face was dark with thought, her eyes fixed on you with an intensity you had never seen before.

"You’re safe," Agatha said, her voice low and steady, but there was something more there—something she didn’t let slip easily.

You sobbed, trying to speak, but the words caught in your throat. Agatha hesitated, but slowly, she reached out to touch your tear-streaked face, wiping your tears away with her thumb. It was such a simple gesture, yet so heavy with something you couldn’t quite define.

She should be thinking about your energy, about keeping you stable, about preserving it. At least, that’s what she told herself. But at that moment, with you so fragile before her, your wide eyes filled with fear and your body trembling in Rio’s arms, something inside Agatha shifted.

It was more than just your energy.

More than any convenient justification.

It was you.

It was the way you looked so... theirs. As if you had always belonged there, even if neither of them had the courage to admit it yet.

Agatha didn’t pull away. Instead, she let her hand linger on your face for just a moment longer, while Rio continued whispering soft words in your ear, holding you as if she would never let you fall again.

And then, right there, you knew.

You knew that this was your place.

In the arms of two women old enough to be your mother.

Maybe Freud would have something to say about it—probably an entire book. But, frankly, it didn’t matter. Not in that instant, as Rio’s familiar scent and Agatha’s hesitant touch surrounded you. No psychoanalytic theory would make sense.

The only thing that mattered was the fact that you didn’t want to leave.

Ever.

[...]

The sun scorched the set, and you were beginning to feel more comfortable with the frantic pace of filming. People talked, laughed, and made jokes, and in a way, you finally felt like part of something. But even in the middle of the chaos, you knew Agatha was watching.

Always watching.

She never made a point of hiding it completely, but she also never showed anything that could be interpreted as favoritism. To everyone there, you were just another production assistant. Just another person trying to please the brilliant and ruthless director.

"Good job, everyone! Lunch break," Agatha’s voice cut through the air, firm and authoritative. For a moment, her blue eyes met yours, but she quickly turned away, already shifting her attention to something else.

It was now or never. As everyone headed to the makeshift cafeteria, you grabbed your backpack and started walking away, feeling your heart race.

"Where are you going?" Yelena asked, crossing her arms as she watched you with curiosity.

"I have something to take care of. I’ll be back before the break is over."

She looked at you suspiciously but shrugged. Before she could say anything else, you were already leaving.

The truth was, ever since you moved in with them, your life had stopped being entirely your own. It wasn’t something spoken in words but felt in every glance, in every careful gesture that seemed to carry more weight than it should.

Agatha drove you to college every morning, always with that heavy silence, but never without adjusting your seatbelt over your lap first, as if making sure you’d be safe. And in the afternoon, Rio was already waiting at the gate, the car engine running, a brief smile on her face, but her eyes scanning everything around, as if expecting something to hurt you at any moment.

Visiting your brother felt impossible. Every time you mentioned it, an excuse came, almost effortless but full of intention. “Maybe after the shoot. It’s better this way, you need to rest.” Or, “We can look into that together this weekend.” And before you knew it, time had passed, and the subject had been brushed aside like dust swept under a rug.

But it wasn’t just that. They were in you, in every thought you had, in every decision you tried to make. It was as if your own will was slowly being erased, diluted into their desire to keep you there, under control, as if leaving was a threat they couldn’t bear. And somehow, part of you no longer knew what you wanted.

When you arrived, the sight nearly knocked you off your feet.

Your brothers were there. All of them. And, to your greater shock, so was your father.

You stood frozen at the entrance for a few seconds, unable to believe what you were seeing.

"What... what is this?" You murmured, your voice low and filled with disbelief.

"Well, well, look who decided to show up!" One of your brothers said, a mocking smile on his lips. "Madam finally stepped out of her castle to visit us mere mortals?"

You frowned, trying to stay calm.

"What are you all doing here? You don’t even live in this state!"

Your father, who was seated at the table, slowly stood up, his eyes as hard as ever. "We are where we need to be. Unlike you, who walks around thinking you’re better than everyone else."

His words hit you like a punch. You took a deep breath, trying to stay in control.

"I just came to see Josh. I thought he was... alone."

Your voice came out colder than you intended, and that made your father’s face harden even more.

"I thought I had given you clear instructions," your father said, pinching the bridge of his nose as if restraining himself. "You were supposed to watch him, put him back on track."

You scoffed, incredulous. Fuck this shit.

"Josh is a grown man. He can make his own decisions, I can assure you of that."

"Decisions?!" He sneered. "That’s deviance!"

The air in the room felt heavier, denser, suffocating. Your father stood there with that same expression as always—full of empty authority, a man who believed his voice was law.

"If only he had someone to guide him... someone with common sense," he said, as if discussing the weather, as if he wasn’t spewing venom against his own son.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, your vision sharpening—like your body knew it was time to fight.

And the sight of Josh, with his face still bruised—some of the marks already fading—and his eyes screaming shame, filled your chest with something painted red.

"Oh, I see," you said, letting out a dry laugh, crossing your arms. "Because following your example would be just great, right? Spending a lifetime playing the tough guy, pretending you have everything under control while destroying everyone around you."

His face hardened. "Watch your mouth."

"Watch my mouth?! Watch my mouth, Dad?! You destroyed this family! You pushed everyone away with your fucking superiority complex! Mom, me, and now Josh. He doesn’t need guidance, he doesn’t need correction, and he sure as hell doesn’t need you! You know what he needs? Someone who loves him for who he is. Something you were never capable of doing!"

The silence in the room was deafening. Your brothers were paralyzed, shocked by your boldness.

Your father was a serious man, a strategist, a relentless worker who worked hard to build the image of the perfect patriarch. They had never heard him yell, never seen him lose control—because control was everything to him. Control over the house. Control over the children. Control over the wife.

Until the wife, who was supposed to serve and submit, disappeared.

You laughed, a dry, bitter sound.

"You never knew your place!" your father shouted, taking a step forward. "You think you’re special? That you can turn your back on your family and it’s all fine? You always thought you were better than us. But you know what you are? A whore, just like your mother!"

His words burned like acid, touching a raw nerve inside you.

"Funny, isn’t it? You, all this time, trying to force us into a mold, shoving your worldview down our throats like it was the only possible one. Like it was sacred. Like it was some fucking religion."

You took a step forward, your voice dripping with venomous irony.

"But you know what makes you and God so... alike?"

He didn’t answer. His jaw was clenched, his eyes burning with hatred.

"Even He couldn’t keep His woman in paradise."

The slap echoed through the house. Your head snapped to the side from the force of the blow, and the taste of blood flooded your mouth. A searing heat spread across your face, but you didn’t back down. You didn’t lower your head.

Your body trembled with adrenaline, your eyes filled with tears, but you refused to cry in front of them. Not here.

Josh was quick. With a firm hand, he grabbed your arm and pulled you back, placing himself between you and your father.

"Enough." His voice was tense but controlled. "You’ve done enough damage," he said to the man, trying not to show fear.

Your face burned, the metallic taste of blood mixing with the humiliation boiling inside you. Your siblings remained frozen, as if the room had been sealed inside an unbearable bubble of tension.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Your hands were still shaking as you pulled it out, trying to take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. When you saw Agatha’s name glowing on the screen, something inside you cracked.

You walked to your old bedroom to answer.

"Hey?" You picked up, trying to sound normal, but your voice came out thick with emotion.

On the other end, the silence lasted only a second before her voice cut through like a blade. "Where are you?"

Your heart pounded. It was impossible to hide that something was wrong.

"I... I’m… it’s fine. I just had to take care of something."

"Take care of telling me where you are. Now." Her tone was low and controlled but laced with something dangerous.

You hesitated, feeling your throat close up. But there was no lying. Not to her.

You finally murmured the address, almost inaudible.

"Wait there. Do not leave."

Before you could respond, she hung up. Your chest tightened even more when the next message arrived.

My driver is on the way. Don’t you dare move.

You put the phone away and looked at your family, your face still burning from the slap. They laughed, exchanging glances as if they had won. But for the first time, you felt something different.

There was someone who cared. Someone watching over you. And somehow, that made everything feel a little less unbearable.

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears, seeing Josh approach. "Hey…" He lightly tapped your knee, making you look up.

Josh studied you with concern, his eyes focused on the cut on your lip but not wanting to pressure you. You ran your tongue over the wound, tasting the metallic tang of blood still lingering.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly.

You let out a humorless laugh. "Okay is a strong word."

Josh sighed and shook his head. "I should’ve protected you better."

"You’ve done more than enough, Josh," you replied, your voice softer now. "But… I need to tell you something."

He frowned. "What?"

You hesitated, hating to say it at that moment. But he needed to know.

"The building… It’s going to be demolished. You have to leave."

His face twisted in surprise, then into something close to resignation. But then, to your surprise, a small smile appeared on his lips.

"Then I guess it’s perfect timing," he said with a shrug. "The gallery lady… She gave me the job. As a security guard."

Your heart clenched, but this time in a good way. Rio had actually done what you asked—she cared. You couldn’t hold back a smile, even with the pain in your face.

"Josh… that’s amazing!" You jumped up, wrapping him in a tight hug. He returned it immediately, holding onto you as if he knew how much you both needed that moment.

"We’re going to get out of this, okay?" He murmured. "One way or another."

Before you could respond, three firm knocks echoed against the door. Josh pulled away first, looking toward the sound. You took a deep breath, feeling your chest tighten.

"That must be the driver," you said, adjusting your clothes.

Josh raised an eyebrow. "Driver?"

"Long story."

You got up and walked to the door. On the other side, Ralph stood, impeccable as always, with his rigid posture and sharp gaze.

"Miss," he greeted with a slight nod. "Mrs. Harkness requested that I take you immediately."

You cast one last glance at Josh before turning back to Ralph.

"Let’s go."

The ride to the studio was silent. Ralph drove with mechanical precision while you stared out the window at the city passing by, trying to organize your thoughts. But your mind was still stuck in that house, on your father, on the taste of blood in your mouth, on the look in Josh’s eyes when you told him he had to leave.

When the car finally stopped in front of the set, you took a deep breath before stepping out. The warmth of the early afternoon sun hit your already heated skin, but it didn’t help soothe the knot in your throat. You adjusted your clothes instinctively, as if that could prevent people from noticing the chaos inside you.

The set was bustling as usual, with bright lights, cameras in position, and the crew moving back and forth. But your attention was immediately drawn to one single figure.

Agatha.

She stood there, statue-like, arms crossed, back to the crew, her posture firm and impenetrable. One hand held a radio, fingers idly sliding over its edge as she pressed it against her chin, seemingly lost in thought. But you knew.

She wasn’t distracted.

She was waiting.

And then, her eyes landed on you.

It was like an electric wire snapping in the air.

Agatha’s gaze swept over your face in a clinical examination, her attention locking onto every detail. The tension in your shoulders, the way you kept your head slightly lowered, the tightness in your lips. And then, the inevitable—the cut.

Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, a dark shadow passing through her expression. But it was quick, a flash that disappeared as swiftly as it appeared. Any trace of reaction was carefully erased before anyone else could notice.

"The break’s over!"

Her voice sliced through the air with blade-like precision. Firm, unwavering. As if nothing had happened. As if she hadn’t just looked at you and understood everything in a single second.

But you knew Agatha never forgot.

She never forgot.

And as you walked past her quickly, without looking up, something inside her cracked—a feeling she couldn’t name or push away. She turned slightly, watching you disappear into the crew.

The day went on, but you felt crushed by an invisible weight. Your swollen face and the cut on your lip still throbbed lightly, a reminder of what had happened. You tried to focus on work, carrying costumes back and forth, trying to lose yourself in the tasks to push the thoughts away.

You were carrying a long, elegant dress to Wanda Maximoff, one of the most recognized and beloved actresses in the industry. Everyone on set seemed to orbit around her—not just because she was stunning, but because her reputation as sweet and kind made her everyone’s favorite. She was always a delight in interviews, full of smiles and words of support for her colleagues. The kind of person the media described as flawless.

But with you, things were… different.

As you approached, Wanda turned to you, her eyes gleaming as if she had detected something from afar. For a moment, you hesitated, intimidated by her presence. But then you quickly reminded yourself—you were just doing your job.

"Ah, finally." Her voice was colder than you expected, nothing like the warm tone from the interviews you had watched. She took the dress from your hands with a movement that seemed both casual and calculated, and then, her eyes fell on you. "You took your time."

You blinked, surprised by the way she said it. It wasn’t a direct complaint, but there was something sharp in her voice. "Sorry, there was a lot to organize. I figured you'd rather have it arrive perfect than fast."

For a moment, she studied you, her green eyes shining in a way that felt almost… challenging. "Perfect, huh? I don’t know if that’s possible, considering the script I have to work with."

You frowned. "Is there something wrong with the script?"

"Wrong?" She let out a low chuckle, running her fingers over the fabric of the dress. "Wrong isn’t the word. It’s more… weak. My character is predictable, boring. Don’t you think?"

Your stomach twisted. She didn’t know, of course, but you had contributed to that character’s storyline. You had spent nights revising every single line, trying to make her three-dimensional and complex. And now, hearing Wanda dismiss it all as "boring" hit you like a rock.

"Well," you replied, your voice carrying a bit more firmness than usual, "I think characters are only weak when the actor fails to find depth in them."

Wanda’s eyes widened slightly at your boldness. She wasn’t used to being challenged, especially not by someone like you—just a production assistant, practically invisible to her. But instead of looking offended, she smiled, a smile that carried something between amusement and irritation.

"Oh, really?" She crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly as she watched you. "So you think the problem is with me and not the script?"

"That’s not what I said." You tried to keep your tone steady, but you knew your answer wasn’t convincing enough.

"It’s not what you said, but it’s exactly what you meant," she shot back, her voice lower now, as if she was toying with the idea of provoking you. "Funny. And who exactly are you to have such a strong opinion?"

"Someone who understands your character’s story," you answered before you could think, feeling your hands begin to sweat.

For a second, Wanda was silent, and then something shifted in her gaze. It was as if she had just figured something out, something that intrigued her.

"Ah." She murmured, her eyes flickering from your face to the dress in her hands. "You must be the anonymous writer Agatha hired. Now it all makes sense."

You didn’t answer, but the heat rising to your cheeks gave you away.

She took a step closer, the smile on her lips softening but still carrying something sharp. "I’ll tell you something, sweetheart," she whispered, so close you could feel the warmth of her presence. "If you really believe this character has any depth, I hope you prove it. Because so far, I haven’t seen anything."

And then, without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away, leaving you there with your heart racing and your mind spinning.

Wanda Maximoff was everything they said she was—beautiful, brilliant, talented. But at the same time, she was completely different. She was rude, provocative, challenging. And for some reason, all of that only made you feel even more unsettled.

Later, the atmosphere on set felt heavier by the minute. Agatha was particularly irritable, her jaw clenched as if she were about to explode. Her usually calm and controlled voice was hoarse and filled with irritation as she barked orders at everyone around her.

"More energy in the next scene! And please, listen when I give instructions!"

One of the actresses, already nervous about the tense atmosphere, dropped the glass of water she was holding. The glass shattered on the floor, and the sound made everyone on set freeze.

Agatha closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply before whispering through gritted teeth to her assistant. "Clean this up. Now."

The assistant, desperate to avoid any outburst of anger, immediately turned to you. "You. Clean this up now."

Without questioning, you nodded and quickly walked to the small storage room at the back of the set. While you grabbed a broom and some cloths, the door clicked shut behind you.

You turned quickly, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it echoed in the small space.

Agatha was there, leaning against the door with her arms crossed. Her blue eyes had an almost cruel intensity, as if they were dissecting you the moment they met yours. There wasn’t a single crack in the control she exuded, but there was something—something dark, something vulnerable—hidden beneath the facade.

"Do you think you can just disappear like that? Without a word? Without an explanation?" Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a weight that made the air feel thicker.

"I was doing what I was told." You tried to sound firm, but your voice wavered, softer than you wanted.

"Don’t give me that." Agatha uncrossed her arms and took a step forward, every movement calculated, predatory. "Talk."

Your chest tightened. "It’s nothing. Just… let me do my job." You tried to step past her, but her hand lifted, pressing against the door, blocking your exit.

"Your face doesn’t look like nothing." She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she examined you with almost cruel precision. "And that cut on your lip? Is that what you call ‘nothing’?"

You felt the heat rise to your face—a mix of shame and anger making your hands tremble slightly. "That’s... that's none of your business."

Agatha let out a low, sharp laugh, devoid of humor. "Everything about you is my business."

"Why?" You lifted your eyes, your gaze defiant despite the knot in your throat. "Why do you care, Agatha?"

The silence that followed was almost unbearable, heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. Agatha seemed to hesitate, her eyes locked onto yours as if she were fighting an internal battle. When she finally spoke, her voice was lower but no less commanding.

"Because you’re my responsibility."

Those words were like a spark in dry grass. You stepped forward, staring at her directly, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breathing.

For a moment, Agatha didn’t respond. The silence hung between you, dense and charged. She seemed to struggle with herself, as if the words were on the tip of her tongue, but something—maybe pride—kept her from saying them.

"Responsibility?" You repeated, letting out a bitter laugh. "I’m not your responsibility, Agatha. I’m a person. Not a project."

Agatha stayed silent, her jaw tightening as she absorbed your words. There was something in her eyes—a mix of anger, wounded pride, and… pain? But her expression quickly returned to a cold, impenetrable mask.

"You think you know everything, don’t you?" She took a step closer, her voice lower but laced with something almost threatening. "You think you can say whatever you want, however you want, without consequences. But let me tell you something, sweetheart—the world doesn’t work that way. I don’t work that way."

"Maybe that’s the problem," you shot back, refusing to back down. "You don’t work. You just… control. You want to control everything around you. Everyone. Including me."

For a moment, Agatha remained silent, her breathing heavy. It seemed like she was about to say something, but then, with a sudden movement, she took a step back and opened the door.

"Get back to work." Her voice was sharp, but with a slight tremor that you almost didn’t notice. "Now."

Without waiting for a response, Agatha left, shutting the door behind her with a dry snap. You stood there, alone, your heart still racing, your emotions tangled—anger, frustration, confusion. It felt like a storm had swept through the small space and left everything upside down. And deep down, you knew she felt the same.

You returned to the set with the supplies you had picked up from the storage room—a bucket, a rag, and a broom. Your heart was still pounding from the confrontation with Agatha, but you tried to focus on what needed to be done. It was better to clean up the shattered glass quickly and return to the invisibility that used to be so comforting.

As you knelt to start gathering the scattered shards, the usual hum of activity on set continued, but you didn’t miss the way Agatha, from her chair, was watching you. She sat with her legs crossed, jaw still tight, and seemed more focused on you than on anything happening around her.

"Are you going to take all day with that?" Her voice cut through the air, drawing everyone's attention.

You froze for a moment, feeling the weight of their stares. Trying to ignore the heat rising to your face, you answered softly, "I'm almost done."

"Almost done?" Agatha stood from her chair, the sound of her heels echoing as she walked toward you. "There’s still water on the floor, shards everywhere... Does that look ‘almost done’ to you?"

Your fingers tightened around the rag, embarrassment washing over you. "I... I'm going as fast as I can."

"It's not enough." Agatha stopped beside you, looking down. Her posture was intimidating, every word laced with something almost cruel. "If you can’t handle a simple task like this efficiently, maybe you’re in the wrong place."

Your stomach twisted, but you didn’t respond. You knew that any words would only make things worse.

"Need some help, sweetheart?" Wanda’s voice carried from across the set, clearly taunting. A few people chuckled, but you felt your face burn even more.

"No, Wanda. She doesn’t need help," Agatha replied, turning slowly to face the actress. "She needs focus. And maybe a little shame."

Wanda let out a soft, ironic laugh, shrugging as she settled back into her chair.

Agatha turned her gaze back to you, her eyes locked onto yours. "If you don’t finish in five minutes, I’ll do it myself. And I guarantee, you won’t like what happens after that."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her stare and everyone else's. Everything in you screamed to run, but instead, you lowered your head and kept cleaning, your hands trembling slightly as you hurried to finish.

Agatha stepped away, but not before whispering, just for you to hear, "I hope this teaches you something."

By the time you finished, your hands were red from scrubbing the floor, and your pride had once again been trampled. But you knew this wasn’t about the glass or the water. It was about control. It was always about control.

As you cleaned, a larger shard of glass slipped from the rag and sliced into the side of your hand. A small "ah" of pain escaped, but you quickly muffled the sound, watching the blood trickle down your palm. The cut wasn’t deep, but enough to throb—a physical reminder of what you felt inside.

You held onto the shard, pressing it against the wound, as if the physical pain was a necessary punishment. This is what you deserve, you thought. A failure, a disappointment. To your family, to Agatha, to everyone. When the blood began to drip onto the floor, you let go of the glass and quickly wiped it up, tucking your bleeding hand into your pocket as you finished.

Yelena appeared out of nowhere, as she always did, snapping her fingers at you. "Are you done here? Great, because we need you to adjust the script. Now."

You followed her in silence, pressing the rag against your hand as you walked. When you reached the small table covered in scattered drafts, Yelena barely gave you time to breathe before pointing at a scene. "This dialogue is... how do I put this delicately? Horrible. Fix it."

You looked at the paper. It was a scene featuring the character Wanda had mocked earlier. An unexpected determination filled you.

With your injured hand gripping the pen, you started writing. You adjusted the dialogues, added layers to the character, gave her depth, strength—something no one could call "weak" again. You were so focused that you barely noticed the blood smearing onto the paper, leaving crimson stains along the margins.

By the time you finished, the day was almost over. You handed in the revised script and left for the bus stop, finally letting the cool night air hit your face.

You stood on the sidewalk, the weight of the day's decisions crashing down all at once. Where to go? To your family, who would likely offer only more judgment and disappointment? Or to Agatha and Rio’s mansion, where suffocating control was the only constant in your life?

Before you could decide, the sound of tires echoed down the street, and a sleek black Audi pulled up in front of you. The window rolled down, revealing the two faces that had become a constant torment in your mind.

Agatha, her steel gaze locked on you, and Rio, in the passenger seat, her expression filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher.

"Get in." Agatha’s voice was firm, yet so low it almost felt like a warning.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. But the two women kept staring, as if there was no other option but to obey.

The Audi came to a smooth stop, but you already had your hand on the door handle before the engine even turned off. You stepped out without looking back, without waiting for anything. You just wanted to get to your room, close the door, bury your face in Lucky’s warm fur, and pretend—if only for a moment—that none of this was happening.

The air inside the mansion felt heavy, or maybe it was just you, carrying the weight of the day on your shoulders. You climbed the first few steps of the staircase, your heartbeat quickening, but a familiar voice pulled you back like a chain.

"Hey, hey, young lady. Not so fast."

Rio stood in the middle of the hall, one hand on her hip, the other pointing at you like she was stopping traffic.

"Rio, please..." Your voice came out weak, barely a whisper, as you kept your gaze lowered.

"Come here." It wasn’t a request.

You sighed, stepping down reluctantly as she approached. Lucky, who had rushed down to greet you, now lingered at the bottom of the stairs, his tail wagging slowly, as if sensing the tension in the air.

"Let me see," she said, tilting her head slightly to the side, indicating she wanted a better look at your face.

"I'm fine." You tried to turn away, but she wasn’t fooled.

Rio raised an eyebrow, her firm hand catching your chin. "That doesn’t look like 'fine' to me."

You bit your lower lip, momentarily forgetting about the cut there—until the sting made you wince. Rio noticed the movement, and before you could react, her touch was already there, right at the sore spot, gentle but firm enough to make you stop.

"Don't do that." She said, her tone low but loaded with authority.

"It's nothing," you murmured, trying to escape her intense scrutiny. "It was just a… mistake."

Rio remained silent for a moment, her brown eyes locked onto yours. Then, she sighed, but she didn’t seem entirely convinced. "A mistake, huh? That’s not what Agatha told me."

The blue-eyed woman stood behind Rio, arms crossed, her posture impenetrable.

"And what does she know?" You growled, resentment throbbing in your head.

"Don't go there, girl." Agatha warned, her tone dangerous.

Before Rio could press you further, Lucky came running down the stairs, his golden fur gleaming under the soft hall light. He leaped onto you with an enthusiasm that made your defenses crumble for a brief moment.

"See?" You crouched to hug him, your voice attempting to sound casual as you buried your face in his fur. "Everything's fine now."

Rio crossed her arms, watching the scene for a moment before shaking her head. "This isn't over, young lady. But... go ahead. I need to talk to Aggie."

The nickname caught you off guard.

You froze for a second, your hand stopping mid-stroke in Lucky’s fur, the background noise of the hall fading into a dull hum in your head. It was an intimate name, sliding from Rio’s mouth with ease, effortlessly, as if it belonged to her. And, well, maybe it did.

Of course, they had nicknames for each other. Of course, there was familiarity between them. You knew that. You had no right to feel anything about it. Yet, a bitter taste spread in your throat, something uncomfortable and inexplicable burning deep in your stomach.

You forced out a light laugh, pushing a smile onto your face as you stood up, ignoring the unease pulsing inside you.

"Good luck with that," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent.

But as you walked away, the word kept circling in your mind, repeating like an irritating echo.

Aggie.

You picked Lucky up and climbed the stairs, relief mixing with the certainty that your confrontation with Rio and Agatha was far from over.

[...]

Agatha was in the office, the silence broken only by the sound of the wall clock. The soft glow of the lamp made the room feel almost cozy, but the tension in the air was palpable. She sat in her favorite armchair, legs crossed, fingers drumming against the upholstered armrest, creating a steady, almost irritating rhythm. In front of her lay the script. A revised version—a text you had worked tirelessly on.

Reluctant but curious, she picked up the page and started reading. Her blue eyes scanned the words with speed and precision, her furrowed brow indicating both concentration and critique.

Wanda’s character wasn’t the conventional heroine everyone knew. She was an antihero—complex, driven by something that transcended a mere thirst for power. She was a devastated woman, determined, relentless.

Before, she had simply been a mother fighting to get her children back. Now, the protagonist was more than just a mother. She was a woman. A woman who would discover her place in her universe—and in every other.

Agatha let out a sigh. Even with her ego bruised and irritation simmering beneath her skin, she couldn’t deny your talent. The words on the page had a depth that had been missing before, as if you had finally grasped what was needed to capture the essence of the story.

She kept reading, fingers lightly tapping against the wooden desk as she absorbed Wanda’s journey. It wasn’t about being a hero or a villain—it was about being human. She was a woman who knew the pain of loss, the weight of failure, and the strength that came from rebuilding—not just for herself, but to reshape the world around her.

She no longer wanted power just for herself. She wanted power to create a space where she could finally exist as she was, without the crushing expectations of who she was supposed to be. To live, to love, to lose—without the world watching and judging. Deep down, the protagonist’s struggle was for freedom—freedom from pain, from obligation, from the invisible chains of someone who had always been expected to save others and never herself.

Agatha leaned back in her chair, taking in the evolution of the story. It wasn’t about the children, or revenge. It wasn’t just about redeeming her mistakes or overcoming her traumas. It was about the simple, yet profound, desire to be whole. A woman who could find her own identity in a universe constantly trying to mold her.

That was when Agatha noticed something different. At the end of the page, where the ideas were scribbled with urgency, there were smudges of ink… and drops of something red.

She raised an eyebrow, bringing the paper closer to the lamp’s light. Blood. Not much, but enough to alarm her.

"What the..." she murmured, her eyes narrowing. She knew you had been intensely focused on rewriting the script, but she hadn’t expected you to get hurt in the process. Or maybe… the wound was deeper than it seemed.

Rio entered without knocking, her gaze immediately landing on her wife. She didn’t need to ask to understand what was happening. She knew that heavy silence, that tension in Agatha’s jaw that betrayed her more than any words could.

"You’re going to tear the page if you keep gripping it like that," Rio said, her voice light but firm.

Agatha dropped the pages onto the desk but didn’t look at Rio. "I don’t want to talk about it." She leaned back in her leather chair, letting out a tired sigh.

"You never do," Rio replied, closing the door behind her and slowly walking to the couch on the other side of the office. She sat down, observing Agatha for a moment before continuing. "But that doesn’t mean you don’t need to."

Agatha let out a short, sharp sigh, picking up her wine glass just to swirl the liquid inside. She hadn’t taken a sip yet. "She should… know her place. Things have rules, Rio. Order."

Rio raised an eyebrow, resting her elbow on the back of the couch and propping her chin on her hand. "Rules? Or is it your wounded ego?"

Agatha finally looked at her, blue eyes flashing with something between irritation and frustration. "You think that’s what this is? Ego? I’m trying to protect her. Everything I do is to keep her safe."

"I know that." Rio’s voice softened. "I know, my love. But you and I both know that’s not the only thing bothering you. You want her to see you, to understand. And when she doesn’t, you shut down. You get like this."

Agatha pressed her lips together, staring back at her wine. Rio was right, but admitting it was out of the question. She wasn’t going to say out loud what she felt—the infuriating need to be understood, to be... accepted by you.

Rio stood up, walking over to her. She stopped beside the armchair and crouched slightly to meet Agatha’s gaze. "Listen, we’ll handle this. I’ll talk to her. I’ll ask her to apologize."

Agatha laughed, but it was dry, humorless. "You think that will fix it? She’ll apologize just to please me, but what she truly thinks won’t change."

"Maybe not." Rio admitted, resting her hand gently on Agatha’s knee. "But she’s trying. You see that. I see that. And maybe you need to be a little less… Agatha Harkness, Hollywood Director with her."

That earned a barely-there smile from Agatha, the corner of her lips lifting for a second before vanishing. She finally took a sip of her wine, looking at Rio with a mixture of exasperation and affection.

"You make me too soft," she murmured.

Rio shrugged, smiling. "Someone has to."

Agatha took a deep breath, shaking her head. “Fine. Talk to her. But if she shows up with that attitude again…”

“I know, I know,” Rio interrupted, raising her hands. “You’re going to remind me that you don’t have the patience for it.”

Agatha didn’t reply. She simply took another sip of her wine as Rio got up. But deep down, Agatha knew it wasn’t just patience she lacked. It was something deeper, something she wasn’t ready to name yet.

You were sitting on the bed, holding Lucky in your arms as he rested calmly on your lap. Your fingers absentmindedly stroked his soft fur, but your mind kept replaying the events of the day like a cruel film.

You wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come—caught in the tight knot lodged in your throat. Lucky gazed up at you as if he understood the weight you carried, pressing closer, offering the only comfort that felt real in that moment.

A soft knock on the door pulled you from your spiral. You hesitated, turning toward the sound. “Who is it?” your voice came out weak, trembling.

“It’s us,” Rio’s voice was calm, yet filled with concern.

Slowly, you rose from the bed. The black cat leapt off your lap, settling at the edge of the mattress. When you opened the door, they were standing there. Rio held a small stuffed bunny in her arms, her expression shifting between tenderness and barely restrained anger. Agatha stood beside her, arms crossed, her posture rigid—but her blue eyes carried a softness you hadn’t expected.

Rio extended the plush toy to you. “We brought this. Thought it might help Lucky keep you safe,” she said, her voice laced with warmth.

Your eyes welled up as you took the stuffed animal. You hugged it to your chest, as if that simple gesture could shield your wounded heart. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely there.

Rio stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She placed her hands on your shoulders, lowering her head slightly to meet your eyes. “I think you know why we’re here, don’t you?”

“I… I’m fine,” you lied, trying to keep yourself together.

Rio didn’t buy it. Her gaze hardened, but there was patience in it. “You don’t look fine, sweetheart. Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

The words got stuck in your throat for a moment, but when they finally came out, they poured in an uncontrollable flood. You told them about the slap from your father, the insults from your brothers, how every word felt like it crushed you a little more, making you feel like you were less than nothing. The tears fell freely this time, and you didn’t even try to hold them back.

You curled into her arms, sobbing softly. “I didn’t want to be a problem… I just… I just wanted him to like me…” Your voice was small, broken, almost childlike. As if, in that moment, the weight of being strong had finally crumbled, leaving only the most vulnerable version of you behind.

Rio stayed silent as you spoke, but her eyes darkened, her jaw clenched tightly. When you were done, she pulled you into a firm embrace—one that felt like both protection and comfort. “He has no right to treat you like that,” she said, her voice low and filled with restrained fury. “If I could, I would—”

“Rio,” Agatha interrupted, her voice soft but firm. She placed a hand over Rio’s, squeezing lightly, as if grounding her back to reason.

Rio exhaled sharply, still visibly furious, but she stepped back slightly, allowing Agatha to move closer.

You clung to her as if she were an anchor, searching for solace in the warmth of her embrace. And that was when you turned to Agatha, who remained silent near the door.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice unsteady. “For the way I acted. For being insolent. I… I was just trying to cope with everything, and I took it out on you.”

Agatha held your gaze, her jaw tightening—but there was something in her eyes that seemed to… crack. She took a deep breath, finally uncrossing her arms. “You had a hard day,” she said, her tone softer than you expected. “But you don’t have to carry this alone.”

Rio smiled beside you. “Exactly. You have us, you know?”

You only nodded, your heart still heavy but starting to feel a sliver of relief. Then, Agatha took a step forward, her eyes locking onto your hand. She seemed to be searching for something.

“What’s this?” she asked, an unexpected hint of concern in her voice.

You followed her gaze and noticed the cut on your finger, the dried blood surrounding it. “Oh, this? Just a scratch,” you said dismissively. “I cut myself while cleaning the set.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes, reaching for your hand before you could pull away. She examined the cut closely, her expression shifting—subtly, but enough that you noticed.

“Just a scratch?” she murmured, almost to herself.

“Yes. It’s nothing,” you said quickly, trying to brush it off. You pulled your hand back.

The tension in the room thickened, pressing down like an invisible force. The air itself felt heavier.

Then, Agatha sat beside you on the bed, her fingers wrapping around your hand with an unyielding grip. The heat of her palm pressed against yours—both intimate and intimidating.

She squeezed your wounded finger, and a sharp sting shot through you as fresh blood welled up again, warm and thick. You inhaled sharply, a quiet hiss of pain escaping before you could stop it. Agatha’s gaze followed the crimson trail, her eyes gleaming with something unreadable. It was as if time had stopped. The entire world faded away, leaving only the two of you and this moment—charged with something unspoken, something you couldn’t name.

“Agatha…” you murmured, confusion and nervousness coloring your voice as you searched her face for answers.

She didn’t respond. Her eyes remained locked onto the blood trickling from your finger, mesmerized, as if each drop held some kind of spell over her. Slowly, as if moving through a trance, she lifted your hand to her lips, her breath ghosting over your skin.

Then, she pressed a delicate kiss against the wound—her mouth warm and soft against the sting of the cut.

The pain mingled with something else, something deeper. A shiver ran down your spine, electric and uncontrollable. It was wrong, almost wicked, but impossible to ignore—a pleasure disguised, slipping beneath the surface like a dark secret that refused to stay buried.

You froze.

The gesture was so unexpected, so laced with silent sensuality, that your breath caught in your throat. But before you could process it—before you could react—she did something that stole every ounce of air from your lungs.

Her lips parted, and with slow, deliberate intent, she took your wounded finger into her mouth—sucking softly at the blood.

Your heart pounded, a frantic drum against your chest. Heat surged up your face, burning your cheeks, and a strange, unmistakable pulse began to throb in places you barely dared to acknowledge. It was… confusing. Incendiary.

Why did Agatha look so irresistible with your blood on her lips? Was it wrong to think that?

Agatha let out a low sound, something between a groan and a growl—possessive, predatory. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if savoring a rare and forbidden wine, before opening them again, darker now, more intense.

When she finally pulled her finger from her mouth, her breathing was slightly uneven, as if she herself were dealing with something greater than she could control.

“This…” she murmured, her voice low and husky, each word dripping with satisfaction. “My good girl.”

The satisfied purr in her tone sent a sharp pull through you, heat spreading in an unbearable wave. You tried to breathe, but the air was thick, too heavy with an energy you couldn’t understand—an energy that consumed every inch of your body.

Good girl. Good girl. Good girl.

The words echoed in your mind, spiraling in an endless loop, trapping you in a whirlwind of unknown sensations. A part of you wanted to resist, but the thought of hearing those words again, spoken in that low, possessive voice, made your skin prickle and your resolve waver. It was like a drug you didn’t know you needed, but one you were already beginning to crave.

Agatha leaned in even closer, her face so near that you could feel her breath—warm, provocative—against your skin. She brushed her cheek against yours, like a lion marking its prey, staking her claim, making it clear that you belonged to her. Her scent was intoxicating, heavy, and the way she purred seemed to seep into every fiber of your being.

“You’re so delicious,” she murmured, her voice thick with something impossible to resist.

But the moment shattered when Rio stirred on the other side of the bed. Her body was rigid, as if she were exerting immense effort to restrain herself. Her eyes were fixed on the two of you, lips slightly parted, her breathing heavy.

She looked… torn, as if part of her wanted to stop everything while another part was being dragged into the same current of desire. Her fingers dug into her own arms, but the way her gaze burned was just as ravenous as Agatha’s.

Her breath was uneven, almost panting, and her fingers tightened against her arms as if the pressure could keep the growing heat at bay.

The look in her eyes had changed—raw, hungry, a desire she was trying to suppress but that slipped through in every small movement. Her chest rose and fell in an erratic rhythm, and a bead of sweat trailed down the curve of her neck, betraying the effort to keep herself in check.

Rio leaned forward slightly, as if something unseen was pulling her closer, her lips parting as she took a deep breath, trying to regain control. But it was impossible to ignore the way her eyes lingered a second too long on the cut on your finger, on Agatha’s lips, on the glistening sheen still visible there.

Desire hung thick in the air, an undeniable heat radiating from her body, flooding the room.

She let out a rough sigh—almost a stifled moan—and uncrossed her arms, her fingers hesitant but now free, sliding along the side of her thigh as she shifted, as if needing an outlet for all that energy. Her composed facade was unraveling, and the way she wet her lips while looking at you made the space feel even tighter, more suffocating.

It was as if Rio were standing on a battlefield—torn between the need to hold herself back and the irresistible urge to give in to whatever was consuming her. And in that moment, her gaze was so intense that you felt stripped bare beneath it, exposed to something both overwhelming and inescapable.

“Agatha…” Rio finally spoke, her voice low, but thick with something that vibrated in the charged air of the room.

Agatha turned her head slowly, still holding your hand in a firm, calculated grip—her fingers cold against your feverish skin. It wasn’t a gesture of comfort, but of control, of warning. The look she gave Rio was a brewing storm, a silent clash of wills, as if words were unnecessary when so much could be said with just their eyes.

For long, heavy seconds, silence stretched between them—thick with tension, with something that made your chest tighten and the air feel scarce.

Then, abruptly, Agatha let go of your hand, almost as if the contact itself were a threat to her.

What she did next was cold and ruthless. She pushed you back against the headboard, her fingers barely grazing your skin in the process, yet the gesture was enough to make you feel small, vulnerable—like something she could discard with the slightest touch.

The look she gave you before turning away was disorienting—a blend of disdain and something else. Something that made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t explain.

She walked toward the door without hurry, but each step landed like a blow in the silence.

Before leaving, Agatha glanced at Rio—an exchange so intense it seemed to set fire to the space between them. Then, without hesitation, she left, the door clicking shut behind her with quiet finality.

You sat there, frozen, feeling the ghost of her touch burning where her fingers had been.

But Rio didn’t move immediately. She stood by the bed, shoulders tense, her breathing uneven.

There was something in her that looked ready to shatter—a raw need for control mixed with a frustration she had no place to put. It was as if the silent battle with Agatha still echoed inside her, but what she felt for you was something that went beyond all of that.

“Rio, what—” you started, but she cut you off.

"Sleep.”

Her voice was firm, but there was a faint tremor in it, as if holding herself back took more effort than she wanted to admit. Rio turned and left, without looking back, leaving you alone in the empty room.

But she didn’t truly leave—her presence lingered, the warmth of her body, the weight of everything left unsaid.

You leaned back against the headboard, your heart pounding out of rhythm, your thoughts a chaotic mess.

The subtle scent of Rio still clung to the air, blending with something darker, something addicting that seemed to come from Agatha.

Sleep? Impossible.

Agatha’s touch, Rio’s gaze, the heavy silence wrapping around everything—how could anyone possibly find peace after this?

~*~

Gimme my valentine gift, gimme your reactions :)

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

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@absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k

[hamsterl0ver]

kats vs overly fanservice-like reader ⋆☕︎ ˖

warningz⋆ fluff, mild language, reader is genuinely strange

blurb⋆ in which the katseye girls have to deal with an overly eccentric member who loves doing her job... a little too much. A person of the people they call her but her fellow members just thing she's a curious case.

wordz⋆ 2.041k

a/n⋆my first ever official fic ☕͜ (ᵔ ̮ ᵔ)› more to come, but a short and sweet one for all the girls, i wrote this to be as platonic as I could, but you can perceive reader to be in a relationship with any of the girls. nd if your curious i heavily based readers personality on a chinese cosplayer Karina! thought it'd be cute (oh and requests are open!)

Manon would be repulsed— in a teasing way, she would see you amongst the other girls as you all sat in a row, giving your all into pleasing a fan. The fans of course eat it up as usual while Manon watches you from the corner of her eye with a scrunched up face, feeling absolutely freaked whenever you do a cute pose, or laugh at some tacky pickup line at your grown age. She isn’t entirely disgusted at your actions, more just curious on how fast you can play out these corny scenarios.

It had been like any other fan meet, your drowsy body laid pressed up against the edge of the table as you held hand in hand with another one of your dedicated fans. It was only supposed to be a 5 minute long greet but after signing the SIS album, you felt as if the whole ordeal was being dragged on. The ghanaian sitting next to you emphasized with your exhaustion as she tossed you a knowing glance, before taking her focus to the woman in front of her. Manon’s peripheral vision was enough to keep track of you and your wary state.

You had been bored our of your mind— despite this being your first public fan event, you found it profound that your interactions with your fans where been heavily monitored as if you'd cross the line. Though, it didn't take long before an overly enthusiastic fan piqued your interest with her odd comment, "Doesn't my perfume smell great", the girl spoke as she sat curiously in front of you. Your eyes practically widened as she motioned towards her wrist, the location with the most concentration of the sweet scent. "Mhm, just like a fresh flower bloom" You hummed, Manon found your comment intrigued, but didn't raise an eyebrow at it, that was until she saw you raising your hand towards her as your fingers looped around her wrist from the corner of her eye.

Poor Manon tried giving her undivided attention to the fan in front of her but she couldn't puzzle what you where doing. Her eyes widen as you grab the girl's wrist and smell her perfume "seductively" as you call it, while the fan freaks out. This is when Manon cannot hold in her emotions anymore— she is BURSTING out laughing as you try your best to keep your composure. She's teasing you like crazy when you both get back home, and when clips of you with the "Oh she's that type of girlfriend" videos circulate around tiktok she's sending all those to you. And best believe she's teasing you about it on weverse with comments like "Oh guys, best believe I'll be next!" or "Some people lack shame, but thats okay."

Sophia is just, confused? She's known you since day one, assuming that the both of you where attached to the hip since Dream Academy. Sophia has genuinely never seen you like this until now, to be fair, you had been joking about being an absolutely "stud muffin" even during pre-debut days, but she never truly expected you to go through with it— AND be this committed to the bit. Best believe she's staring you down during every interview and every fan interaction, just to make sure you don't accidentally slip up and cause another viral yet incrimination moment for the girls. But despite that, she'd much rather be a fool with you, than you making a fool out of yourselves, so yes she is entertaining your strange behaviour.

She only really started playing into it during a promotion live for touch, the both of you as per usual, where too preoccupied mugging the camera that you failed to notice that both of you where too close for comfort. It hadn't occurred to you how close in proximity the two of you had become, it wasn't until Megan sweetly read out a comment along the lines of "Oh my, my sophy/n heart" that it made everything abundantly clear. Sophia opened her mouth to defend herself only for you to butt in just as quickly. "Mhm, me and my beautiful glorious queen Sophia..." You drone, your words slow as you reached your hand over the table which held all the sweet treats and grabbed the nearest edible thing and raised it up to your face.

"Are just such a great duo." You giggled, pushing the sweet up to Sophia's glossed lips, her eyebrow raised before finally giving in. As she let the sweet treat enter her mouth you continued to speak "Isn't that right Soph?" You asked, the bewildered filipino kept her composure as she mumbled 'sure' under her breath, as Megan and Lara laughed at the two's antics. Which lead to a scolding right after the camera's got shut off.

Daniela is so befuddled, to the point she's physically screaming, and running away, crying, throwing up, all of the above, she's everything but pleased. She's never been one who was used to this whole idol culture, on top of the fact that she's constantly having the please the fans is horrific to her. Which isn't as horrifying as watching one of the closest people in her life being a fan-service advocate, such as yourself. She finds you genuinely terrifying how good you are at reading people and flirting with others. Honestly, she really found you charming during the production at Dream academy, even whenever you joked about "putting your skills to the test", she never took your charms seriously, that was until she saw your true form on stage.

It had just been another stage performance, the heat the lights, the music, it all had gotten to you, the sweat dripping from the side of you neck got a some fans in a stir, but nothing notable. Walking off the stage, (which forced you to make contact with a few fans before going backstage) you hopped off with a signature smile on your face that your charm was really put to the test. As a bead of sweat fell from your face, a towel was handed in your direction, presuming it was a staff member you grabbed it within a heartbeat. With Daniela behind you, she tried her best to stop you but it was too late, it was a fan who graciously offer you their hand towel. And now you where stuck between a rock and a hard place. You could either A, play it out and pretend this was all part of your grand plan or— yeah, that was the only viable option.

Daniela wide eyed gaze faced you as you continued to wipe your neck with the towel, your ego dying a little more as you tried to keep the smile plastered on your face. "Thank you baby." You hummed folding the towel to give it back to the crazed fan, who just insisted that you keep it, and of course you did, sliding it in the back of the hem of your skirt before gliding away from the situation. As you all head back stage, Daniela who's still in shock and disgusts pulls you into an empty room to debrief. Asking you questions along the lines of "Why'd you do that" and "Are you mad?", with your only response being "Felt like it" or "Y'know that was a good show— and you like good shows!" Only earning yourself a slap on the cheek as a response.

Lara loves it, she really does because that just means you match her vibe so well. She loves seeing you do it, and she loves playing into it with you, almost always making a whole show out of it to farm some more content from the fans. Any given moment she's coercing you into doing/saying something freaking on camera or in public, just because she finds it so entertaining, best believe she's the only one among the girls who actually approves of the fan service agenda. Although Lara does have some limits, because her parent's do see all the clips that go viral of her, but she teeters on the edge of what she can or cannot do with you. It's gotten so bad, that Sophia and Yoonchae have to cover the both of you whenever your on screen, because personal bubble does not exist with the two of you.

It's always when the two of you get on live alone, which always has the PR team in shambles, having two members who have no filter is hard enough but having the two of them by themselves is practically hell. You don't understand the concept of "to much information", (Lara does though, but seeing you embarrassed in the morning after getting post sleep clarity is hilarious) so when Lara read out a comment asking you for dating advice for girls you happily obliged! "I believe that the most important thing with flirting with girls, is eye contact..." You happily answered, turning your head to Lara as she was holding back tears of laughter.

"Look for example" You chirped, fixing your gaze to the Indian as she batted her eyes up towards yours, your faces inches apart as she stared at you curiously. This lasted for a good 7 seconds before she broke it off with her laughing uncontrollably, despite everything she did find her face heating up under your gaze. You turn you eyes back to the camera with a gummy smile, "See look! If it was a few more seconds, we'd be happily married. That's the secret to flirting with a girl." You cheerfully answered as Lara was huddled off from the view of the screen laughing her ass off.

Megan is indifferent, because she knows your getting hella bag from this, she's honestly just impressed on how well you can keep your composure till you break. Doesn't mean she's any less weirded out by it, but she's also not judging, "get that bread" one may say, and yeah she's a little jealous from how much the fan's eat it up but that only gave her more of the incentive to see what she can do to get that persona to crack. Even if it means playing along, or playing dirty, she just wants to see whats your absolute limit before you call it quits.

One time during a fan event, everyone was handed a pair a fluffy animal ears and fluffy paws to match, of course if any other regular grown woman where to put this on, they'd hurl, but you weren't some regular woman. You where on a mission, so you swallowed the remnants of your pride and put it on, the others where only brave enough to put one accessory on (Manon refused to put any of it on), you put everything on, quite literally decked out. Almost instantly the girls where suppressing their laughter and second-hand embarrassment, but the flashing lights of the cameras made it worth while. You had just expected to stay in this half costume for a few pictures until you took it off to sign more albums until you heard Megan's voice on the microphone as you got ready to slide the paws off.

"Hey, Y/n! This fan told me you should do a cute pose" She snickered as the fan waved in your general direction, almost like a glass crack, your smile faltered, making Megan burst out laughing, but that didn't stop you. You lifted you hands up to your face and made a claw like gesture with the signature smile plastered on your lips, before moving into a pout. Yoonchae who sat between you a Megan just glared up at you in pure disgusted, before you embarrassingly sat down. You huffed, knowing that even your members where laughing at you, but you knew that it'd be that end of that, "no more pictures" you mumbled under your breath as Megan kept your eyes on you.

As you carefully tried to take off your paw-like gloves you heard the mic tune in again, with Megan's giggle on the other end. "Hey c'mon, she wants you pose again" Megan cackled as she motioned to the same fan, she watched as you shot her a killer glance before begrudgingly following her orders.

[sanchoyo]

#This is so cute#It would have been really cool if the Blue Knight was his own character#And we see more of him because his screen time isn't divided between him and Aoyama#Seeing him develop and interact with Aoyama and the cyniclons#And of course he still becomes Deep Blue#I wonder if that AU exists somewhere...#I've certainly never seen one before

@rikakueroleplay oh u are not just leaving these excellent comments in the tags of my art. I need this AU so badly. the blue knight is so interesting...if I can take these tags and RUN with them...

like. he spawns into existence and his only desire is to protect Ichigo. he only EXISTS when Mew Ichigo needs protecting. he does not know anything outside of this. He does not know why he has these powers- he barely has a name, more like a title, he does not know Masaya's parents, or why the other aliens are doing this, or about Deep Blue.

He doesn't really even know her, not really, just that he NEEDS to do this, HAS to protect Ichigo, instinctually, because of Masaya's love for her. He said, during the tokyo tower scene, it's okay if she doesn't love him back- he doesn't care about that, despite his driving force being love for her, the love stored in his body is not really his, it can't belong to him. He cannot get the girl. He exists only to protect the girl. A knight can only serve others.

when Masaya realizes he's the blue knight, he's fully in control now, no more weird amnesia spells when Ichigo is in danger- the blue knight persona is effectively erased. But...

We see Deep Blue's desire to erase Masaya as cruel- Deep Blue doesn't see Masaya as a person, he's just some... defense mechanism that developed to keep the vessel safe. To blend in until Deep Blue could overtake it. To fulfill a task. The Blue Knight, likewise, is just a mechanism to keep Ichigo safe. Not really a person. Ichigo, when she finds out, only addresses him as Aoyama now.

But if Masaya became his own person, with his own desires... who's to say he couldn't have, too? If we imagine an AU where he's a separate entity from Masaya entirely, why would he have been protecting Ichigo so fiercely? Without being the Blue Knight or Deep Blue, where would that leave Masaya? How would they interact? Would he make 'always been pretty good at most things, and has always been popular' Masaya a bit jealous, because he wants to protect Ichigo and feels like that's one thing he can't do, but the Blue Knight can? Would the Blue Knight still be a sort of amnesiac in this AU, laser focused on his goal? That possibility would be really, really cool for an AU.

silly little doodles of my fav power couple 💗

[del-thetiredwriter]

Mafia au/Good luck while running away from mafia part 6

Intro, part 0.5 , part 1, part 2 , part 3 , part 4 , part 5

Notes: So close to the ending. I am going to post next part when it gets enough interactions. As for the Otome Au I will post the Octavinelle part in a week. I hope you enjoy it.

Warning: Yandere stuff, gender-neutral reader, mentions of murder and death, English is not my first language be aware of that.

Taglist: @morokumi , @lorkai , @hasty-desert , @oceanside-pixie , @lianreine , @h3apm3ch4n151m @burntwolf25 , @lilyalone , @juliechi , @noemiaaomi , @stingywiththeirusername , @kchan3s , @aryuunachigiri , @sxftiebee , @lucid-stories , @literallyjustidiashroud , @roseapov , @serenity-loves-red , @randomlyappearingartist I tried to tag everyone but some tags didn’t work sorry for that.

-

“Don’t you think the Boss is a bit strange? I mean I’ve only seen him a few times but he doesn’t look like a boss at all.”

The red-haired Heartslabyul rookie asked. It was lunch break and you were sitting in a café with the rookies.

“Indeed. The way he talks and acts is nothing like I imagined.” The lilac-haired rookie assassin agreed. You chuckled. Despite being his right-hand man, sometimes even you couldn’t understand how Crowley managed to become the boss.

“What did you expect?” you asked.

“Tougher? Cooler?” You laughed to their answers . They were right.

While the conversation continued, you got a notification on your phone and said goodbye to the rookies and got up from the table.

You knocked on the door of the main headquarters meeting room and went inside. Crowley was leaning back in the boss chair at the head of the table, drinking tea.

“Oh, you’re here, sit down.”

He gestured for you to sit down at one of the chairs.It always seemed strange to you. Even though there were seven executive in organization, there were only eight directors at the table. A bouquet of white lilies was placed on the extra chair.

“You wanted me.”

You sat down in the Heartslabyul chair to Crowley’s left. Your masked boss smiled.

“I just wanted to chat a little. You know, today is a special day. Today…is the day you completed your first mission and joined the mafia.” He looked at the lilies and then at you. His voice was sad. You nodded.

“Yes sir.”

“Tell me Y/n…how was your first mission?”

You were confused. Crowley had asked you that question before. Many times. And you gave the same answer again.

“The target was unarmed. Or rather, he dropped his weapon on the ground in front of my eyes and wanted to hug me-“

“Okay, no need to continue.” He looked at the lilies sadly.

“…Y/n, I raised you. You are like my own child to me. You know that.”

You nodded. It was true that he had taken you from the orphanage when you were little and raised you.

“Life can do things you can’t predict. You never know what the future holds for you. I’ve done a lot to survive in this organization. You understand?”

It’s the same thing every year. Every year, Crowley would call you into this room today, and for what felt like hours, he would speak to you in this strange and uncharacteristic way. Like he was confessing his sins…

“You are loyal to me. My right-hand man. My most trusted man…”

- Previous boss’s timeline

“Crowley…”

A sick old man in bed called out to the man standing next to him in the chair. His voice was dry and weak. His narrow eyes were tired and full of hatred.

“Yes boss,”

“Haven’t you destroyed the Royal Sword yet! Destroy it!”

The old man started shouting again, as if he were crazy. The man sitting on chair smiled. He seemed quite used to this situation. He stood up and leaned over to the man lying on the bed. The man in the bed’s screams stopped. The white sheets were stained red.

“Ah, finally. He’s been going through a lot of dementia lately. If I had waited a little longer, I was sure I would have lost my hearing. Don’t you think so Crewel?”

Crowley turned to the assassin standing right by the door. Crewel’s face was unreadable, but Crowley smiled understandingly.

“It was bound to happen eventually. It’s just a matter of timing and patience. And don’t tell me you’re sorry. I mean, he’s been going through a lot of dementia for the last year and a half.”

He waved his hand in the air.

“I will inform the other executives of the death in a few hours. Have the body cleaned. I must prepare a funeral worthy of our dear old boss. I will see you tonight.”

The masked executive put on his coat and left the room.

-

“What is this?” Savanaclaw’s new executive Ashton Vargas slammed his hand on the table.

The first extraordinary executive meeting was being held since the tragic sudden death of the former boss. The subject was the treason accusation of the 8th Division Ramshackle executive– code name Blade.

“Apparently, Blade, who has been supposedly ‘on a mission’ for a long time, was working for Royal Sword.” Heartslabyul executive Trein explained the subject while sipping his tea.

“How is this possible? He was the boss’s right-hand man. He was his heir.” Ashton Vargas read the documents over and over in disbelief.

“According to the documents, a large amount of money was transferred to the Ramshackle executive’s bank accounts. Why didn’t Octavinelle mention this?”

Crowley, executive of Diasomnia, asked.

“Because there was no such gap-”

“Or you didn’t notice it.”

“I don’t believe it. There was no reason, and these documents, photos, audio recordings… how do we know if they are fake? I would also like to point out that we don’t know their sources. Blade had many enemies.” The Pomefiore executive spoke up. He said his last sentence while looking specifically at Crowley. The room was in complete chaos.

“Night Raven needs a boss. We don’t know where Blade is. The charges against him are too serious to be taken lightly. If Blade is truly a traitor-”

The Scarabia executive was interrupted by Octavinelle.

“But it’s still not certain. There’s also the possibility of a conspiracy. We must wait until Ignihyde verifies the documents. We cannot take the choice of a new boss lightly.”

As the six executive argued among themselves, Ignihyde finally raised his hand to speak and made the expected statement.

“Ignihyde…confirms the truth of the documents.” The Ignihyde executive spoke.

With Ignihyde's approval, a brief silence fell over the room...

-

“…That’s it for today. Thank you for attending the meeting.”

The new masked Boss ended the meeting with a smile. All the executives began to leave the room one by one.

“Crewel, sit down. How about we have a chat?”

The new Pomefiore executive paused. He turned to the masked man. He had a strange expression on his face. It was obvious that he didn’t want to sit down, but he sat back down in his chair.

“That face…You’ve been wearing that face a lot lately, huh? When the Boss died, when I made you an executive…”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The masked man smiled.

“Crewel, how’s the mission I gave you going? Have you found him?”

Crowley’s question caused a brief silence.

“…No. I haven’t found him yet.”

His voice was normal. However, he couldn’t look him in the face when he answered.

“I see… By the way, we’re going to adopt a child today.”

“What?”

Crewel looked at Crowley in surprise. He hadn’t expected to hear something like this all of a sudden.

“Yes. The child you’ve been seeing a lot lately. The child you’ve been secretly visiting behind my back.”

Crewel clasped his hands together under the table in fear. The events of the last six months had made him very nervous about what Crowley could do.

“Don’t get nervous like that. I’ve been visiting that kid for the last few months, and aren’t they cute, I must say? I also think they have potential. After all, they are from his blood.”

Crowley stood up and patted Crewel on the shoulder.

“We’ll be out in a few hours. Okay?”

Then he left Crewel alone in the room…

“You should have guessed as much.”

Divus raised his head. Heartslabyul’s executive Mozus Trein was standing in front of the door , looking all serious. The older executive walked over to him and sighed.

“When the previous boss made him his heir, it was clear what would happen. You should have made a choice back then. You’re lucky he left you alive, though.”

The younger executive looked at the older executive with pain. He shook his head slightly in denial.

“I…”

“When the previous boss went crazy and fell into his sickbed, Crowley gradually took control of the entire mafia. You either stood by him or died. You saw it , after the previous boss died , executives of Pomefiore and Octavinelle…Ramshackle was completely destroyed. If you want that child to live, come to your senses. Swear your loyalty to Crowley and forget about him.”

- Current timeline

Silence… It had been about an hour since you escaped from Pomefiore. The road was completely empty. There was only your breathing and the sound of the vehicle. Apart from your tense and anxious heartbeat, it could be called a very calm drive…

You turned down the crackling sound of the radio that suddenly increased slightly. The navigation suddenly changed the route a few times. At first, you didn’t think much about it since you thought you were in an area with no internet connection, but something didn’t feel right. The vehicle suddenly accelerated beyond your control. Yes, something was really wrong. While you were trying to understand what was happening, the vehicle started to slow down. When the steering wheel started to move on its own, you tried to control it, but the vehicle changed lanes. You had lost control of the vehicle.

“Ahem. Sound control one two. Y/n-shii, can you hear my voice clearly?”

Idia Shroud. Everything had settled into place now.

“It seems you do.”

You tried to regain control of the vehicle, but it was useless.

“Don’t bother. No matter what you do, you can’t regain control.”

The Ignihyde executive chuckled at your futile efforts. You couldn’t see him, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that his face was currently enchanted with pleasure.

“I must be lucky. I made a slight change in plans when I realized that the vehicle you were in when you escaped from Pomefiore was one of the newer models produced by S.T.Y.X. Normally, I would have caught you in a different way, but this is more comfortable and safe.”

You didn’t want to waste time talking. You had to think of something fast. You tried to unbuckle your seat belt, but it was stuck.

“What are you doing?”

When you finally got rid of your seat belt, you reached into the back seat and grabbed your gun. You tried to roll up the windows, but as you expected, they wouldn’t open.

“I don’t recommend that, Y/n-shii. If you break even one of the windows, I’m giving you a firm warning that my drones outside will intervene.”

You looked out the window. He was right. You were trapped in this vehicle.

“Now that you’ve given up, how about we chat a bit? We have a long way to go.”

“What are we going to chat about?”

You leaned back on the couch. You had to think of something. You couldn’t use your phone. If you did, Idia would definitely intervene.

“Don’t say that. I-“

“You were the one who prepared the false documents about me. Or rather, you were one of the ones who prepared them. What would I have to talk to you about?”

“You were the one who first tried to leave the Organization.”

“I did it because you betrayed me! To survive!”

“You’re lying even now, Y/n-shii. We would never hurt you. If we really wanted to, you would be dead by now.”

He was right. If they had, they would have finished you off long ago. You clenched your teeth in anger.

“But it’s okay, I forgive you. When I take you back to the Organization, we will decide on your punishment. Well, as the person who caught you, I will have the most influence on the decision.”

You scoffed. Now it was clear why they were working separately on purpose.

“Don’t worry, I would never wish you harm. You were truly precious to me. And you still are.”

Idia truly said these words sincerely. Not to get on your nerves. You were precious to him. You used to visit him almost every day, cook for him, play games with him, listen to even the most absurd things he told you, and scold him while taking care of him. Even though you weren’t his completely , your old life was perfect for Idia. However, you tried to leave him. He prepared those documents against you with the others in order to hold on to that life, even though he didn’t want it. Then you ran away…

Idia sighed. You two couldn’t be completely the same anymore, but you would have plenty of time to fix everything after he took you back.

“By the way, how did you escape from Octavinelle? I couldn’t find the camera footage. Azul swore that he caught you.”

Wait a minute. Didn’t they know that Sam helped you that day? You didn’t answer.

“Whatever Ack-“

Idia’s voice suddenly stopped. After a minute of silence a voice came.

“Ignihyde has withdrawn.”

The voice was familiar. Crewel Sensei!

“You will regain control now.”

The voice stopped before you could respond. You had regained control.

.

.

.

The former executive left the building after destroying all evidence of his involvement. Then dialed that number.

“I did as you said. You better keep your promise.”

[anisangeldust]

Cupids Arrow | S.M.

Summary: After falling pathetically in love; Sam Monroe decides to give Valentine’s Day a chance.

Pairing: Sam Monroe x popular!Fem reader

Warnings: annoying Sam, use of “faggot” (in a playful way) and “gaybo” (derogatory), lwk self loathing, loser in love Sam, kinda a heavy make out sesh, semi public smut, dry humping, premature ejaculation ? Whimpering Sam, reader teases him and he gets off on it.

A/N: this is lwk self insert and I’m not ashamed abt it. Also I lwk hate it but wtv :( happy vday!!

“Naw bro, she’s fine as fuck” Josh nudges his friend as you walk past. You’d switched high schools and joined the previous semester. It’s as if you were an overnight success, fresh blood, pretty face, and rich parents, a recipe for being the top of the social ladder.

Even sad, mopey, emo Sam Monroe wasn’t immune to your charm

“Fuck off dude, she’d never go for you. You look and act like a faggot. She needs a strong man.” Josh’s friend flexes and raises his eyebrows up and down at you. You rolled your eyes playfully and continued walking to class.

With a scowl, Sam’s eyes followed the whole interaction. What of you did want him? Why did he care? Sam didn’t want you, or your preppy attitude, you fluffy hair that fell above your boobs, your low rise Abercrombie & Finch jeans that barely pass dress code— No. No. He didn’t care about or notice you. You or your big eyes and full lips— No.

And he especially didn’t notice you or the way his heart rate sped up when you smiled at him.

——

If there’s one thing Sam hated more than his father it was P.E. You were the only thing that made the class tolerable. Except he didnt think that because he barely noticed you or your teeny Juicy Couture shorts at all.

Even worse than P.E. (And Sam’s dad) was dodgeball. Fuck dodgeball. Sam thought as he stood in the corner of the gym and watched all the popular guys peacock for your attention.

A star ball hit Sam in the face, and the accompanying voice of one of the jocks followed “you’re out gaybo! Sit the fuck down!” And Sam rolled his eyes, sitting down as he flipped off the guy.

Like a guardian angel sent by a god he didn’t believe in, you threw a ball at the jock and got him out, playfully flipping him off like Sam did.

You go up to Sam and offer a hand. “C’mon, you’re back in. You okay? Looked like a nasty hit.” You smile.

Despite the bit of chill in the winter air, Sam felt a warmth spread across his face. “Yeah no.. whatever. Im good. Im fine” he scoffs, taking your hand to get up and dropping it suddenly when he realizes he just accidentally held your hand

“M’kay” I smile and saunter off to keep playing.

——

“It doesn’t mean anything. Shes nice to everyone” Sam sighs and rubs his face as he and Corey sit in the roof of his station wagon.

Corey takes a long inhale of their shared cigarette “yeah but..” he exhales “she helped you.. or some shit. I don’t know. But I can feel it. She likes you dude” he lays back.

Sam leans back and looks up at the sky, biting his bottom lip in contemplation. “Yeah but— fuck man. I can’t just ask her to be my valentine. That’s corny. And she probably has one” Sam sighs

Corey rolls his eyes “does she even entertain the other guys? There’s no harm in asking. Just like, buy her flowers or chocolate or something I don’t know. But ask her” Corey takes a puff.

“Y’know what. Fuck it man. I’ll ask” Sam nods and takes the cigarette, taking a long breath in and letting the exhale dwindle away in the night sky, his mind on you, you and your plump lips..

“Do you think Angel likes roses?” Sam groans

Corey huffs “probably. Get some chocolate too. Shit dude, maybe even a card” he giggles.

——

Walking through the halls of the school had never been so embarrassing. Who did Sam think he was? Using the little bit of cash he had that he’d usually spend on weed for chocolate and stupid flowers? It was too late to back down now. He had to focus.. but even as you got closer he could feel your eyes on him..

Clutching the six roses in his hand, Sam clears his throat to get your attention. “Hey.. uhm— could I talk to you..?” He murmurs and looks around at your friends. Your popular friends, all hanging around your locker. This was a bad idea.

The gentle smile that teased the corner of your lips almost made him forget to breathe “Of course.” You smile and lead him away to a different hallway “we’ll be right back” you look back at your friend then focus on him.

Oh god he was going to do it. “Uhm.. I was wondering if maybe you’d like.. I dunno.. be my valentine?” He murmurs and holds out the roses, opening his backpack and grabbing the chocolate.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, he was so close to just walking away, but the gentle sound of your giggles bring his gaze back. “Of course I will Sammy” you take the gifts “thank you, these are beautiful.

He was shocked. You said yes? This was a joke. A bet. You were just pitying him. “Really?” He whispers, not quite registering that you actually agreed. “Well uhm.. how about I like.. take you to dinner..?” He spews before his mind can catch up with his mouth.

You smile wider “Yes really. And I’d like that.” You take out a notebook and scribble down two things “here’s my number and address. Let me know the details” you kiss his cheek “Bye Sammy”.

He’s eyes followed you like a magnet “See ya..” he mumbles, bringing a hand up to where you kissed him, gently touching the spot with the pads of his fingers.

——

Nervous wasn’t even in the ballpark of emotions he was feeling. This still had to be some elaborate prank, a joke, never mind that he’d called you 3 times and told you to be ready for a dinner he planned, his heart swelling at the excited tone of your voice. You’d stand him up, he’d drive to your house like an idiot and you’d tell him you weren’t serious.

Telling his parents was arguably just as nerve wracking.

<<Hey mom uhm, could you help me.. maybe?>> Sam mumbled to his mother, Robin, as she cooked dinner, her eyes widened in surprise as not only did her angsty son talk to her, but he was asking for help?

She smiled << yeah i suppose.. with what..?>> her tone was gentle, almost hesitant.

Sam shrugged <<I uhm.. like.. maybe have a Valentine’s Day date..>> he cleared his throat and had to stop the smile as his mom rattled on about who you were and then helped Sam with all the details.

Standing at the door of your very nice home, in his only pair of decent dress slacks and a black button down, Sam clutched the bouquet of roses his mom helped pick out and rang the doorbell.

A middle aged woman with sleek brown hair answered the door. “Ah, you must be Sam” she smiles.

Sam nods, running a hand through his black and blue hair “yeah.. that’s me” he gives a lopsided smile “is your daughter ready?” He asks.

“She should be.” Your mom turns into the house “darling! Your dates here!” And the click clack of heels meets Sam’s ears.

You looked stunning. Breathtaking. Sam was flummoxed as he met your gaze. Your dress was a beautiful blush color, and your makeup matched. Sam reminded himself to blink as you approached “Hey.. happy Valentine’s Day” he quirked up his lips and held out the bouquet of flowers.

“These are gorgeous. Thank you” you smile and take his hand, this time on purpose, and walk to his car. Sam opens the passenger seat before climbing in the drivers seat and twisting his key.

Mr. Self destruct by Nine Inch Nails starts to play up again and Sam quickly turns it off “Sorry.. I was uh..” he flushes with sudden embarrassment at his music taste.

You turn the dial back up “don’t apologize. I’d be happy to listen to the music you enjoy” you smile and admire his side profile as he drives, your eyes drawn to the way his hands fiddle with the gear shift, taking in the faint scent of weed that lingers on the leather seats. It was so him, so perfect.

——

The date was perfect. A beautiful awkward mix of Sam’s corny jokes and your elegant aura. It became clear that not only was it not a pity date, but maybe you actually liked him back? He tried not to let himself dwell on the idea. But as the server called you guys “cute” and you just thanked him, Sam could feel himself falling deeper into this boyish crush.

Walking out of the restaurant hand in hand, Sam decided to deviate from his original plan “We should get ice cream. I know this lookout point I smoke at sometimes. It’s perfect for stargazing” the sudden boost of confidence he had talking for him.

“I’d like that a lot” you take his hand and walk to his car.

——

For the first time Sam felt like the universe was on his side. Eating ice cream on Valentine’s Day, sitting in the open trunk of his car with the girl he likes and watching the stars after a successful date, the only thing that would make it better was if he didn’t have a raging boner from watching you lick cream off your lips.

As you got down to the bottom of your cone and started to lick the melted desert off your fingers, Sam wiggled and tried to pull away. But you noticed. Of course you noticed.

“Something wrong?” You look at him and scoot closer.

He swallowed audibly “nothing.. nothing wrong.. I’m great” he shakes his head vehemently.

You lean your head closer, the hot air mingling between you “you sure? You look flushed” you giggle and tease.

He dares to lean in “am not!”

You smile “are too” and then your lips attach. The kiss is heavy, full of Sams insecurity and your desire. His inexperienced tongue moves around your mouth, his pants growing tighter from the taste of your lips.

Climbing onto his lap, you finally see the source of his awkwardness “mmm.. is that what’s wrong?” You tease and gently move your hips over his hard on.

Sam gasps into the kiss, whimpering and letting his mouth part “y-yeah..” he stutters, trying to latch onto his last shred of gentlemanly thoughts.

“You’re so adorable” your giggles make him flushed.

“I’m not adorable.. I’m.. I dunno..” he stutters pathetically, panting into the kiss and bucking his hips up.

You keep moving “pretty sure you are. You’re whimpering like a loser. A cute loser” you kiss and suck on his jaw.

Sam lets out a moan “nuh uh..” he tries for the last time to hold on, but as he opens his eyes and meets your gaze, he’s done for. With one finally little whine, he cums in his pants, bucking his hips up and kissing you.

Both if you look at eachother with wide eyes, the look in his is terrified, the look in yours in playful “did you just..?” And he tears up

“Sorry.. ‘m so sorry.. couldn’t help it..” he pouts and looks at his lap.

You flick his nose to get his attention “I’m not mad Sammy.. that was.. hot” he giggle and kiss him again.

“Hot..?” He mumbles and his hands find your waist.

“And pathetic. Hot and pathetic.” You confirm with a nod of your head.

[blondwhxrewrites]

Authors notes: Yes, Reader's powers are based off of Mel's from Arcane because I fucking love her, and her powers are so cool and have so many possibilities anyway, I give you—

Bruce Wayne with a meta-human fiancé whom he is constantly amazed by...

You are quite literally the light of his life, and Alfred thanks God every day for your existence. If it weren't for your stubbornness and love, he's pretty sure Bruce would be dead by now—Bruce also agreed to that statement by the way.

He genuinely does not know how he managed to convince you to marry him. First of all, he'd never been good at human interaction, and second of all, he had absolutely no clue how romance worked. Yet here you were, the most gorgeous woman to ever exist, snoring next to him, with his mother's ring sitting proudly on your ring finger.

You know that one meme of the beautiful bride and the ugly-ass groom? Yeah, that's you and him. Yes, Bruce Wayne doesn't realize he's attractive. It's a tragedy, really.

Early in the relationship, you had worried he'd be ashamed of your powers, and he had shut that shit down immediately. Look, he may be unable to express his emotions in a healthy way, but he does not mess around whenever it involves you.

Of course, he only learned that after you almost broke up with him. It was his fault, by the way. He was being a dumbass.

You're the one who saves him whenever he's in dire situations. If there's one thing scarier than the bat, it's his woman, because God help the person who made you mad enough to come pick up your man. While this all plays out, Bruce is lying a few feet away, bleeding out. It's okay; he'd rather bleed out for a little bit and let you get your anger out on those goons rather than have it directed towards him.

The Justice League had only heard rumors about you. They tried to ask Bruce about you once, and he only grunted and walked away. Several years later, you show up during a particularly nasty battle and completely wipe the shit out of everyone.

Please, give him affection. In his opinion, there is nothing better than coming back to the Batcave to you. You patch him up, give him a few kisses, and then beckon him back up to the manor, force him to eat some of Alfred's food, and then drag him to bed.

He loves showering with you, and he'll lean over just so you can wash his hair. He'll even put his head in your lap whenever he can just so you can run your hand through his hair.

He'll trace the golden marks on your skin, and it literally makes you melt every single time because he does it so lovingly. He's so soft for you it's pathetically cute.

Ughhhh he's so in love with you 😩

[nereidprinc3ss]

you’re my best friend

in which spencer reid has to teach your young son how to make friends nicely after a day at the park gone awry

fluff!! warnings/tags: fem!reader, husband!spencer yum, boy dad spencer enters the nereidprinc3ss cinematic universe!!!! yayyy!! but you still have a baby daughter as well, Spencer would 100% give his children old people names I'm sorry, gentle parenting Spencer my beloved a/n: I really miss spring its my favorite season so I found this draft that feels very springy and it makes me very happy also.. the name... like queen... also this is old so its probably not winning a pulitzer

The sun beats down just shy of hot on the sheath of fresh grass where you and Spencer are comforting your crying son—the ground beneath your blanket is a lush, verdant carpet, still cool with springtime rain but not wet. 

All of this pleasantry is lost on your son Oliver. He’s too focused on the scraped knee he sustained when he got pushed over on the wood chips. Marianne, your baby girl, is gurgling happily in her little bassinet next to you. Whoever said raising girls was harder had obviously never met the Reid siblings. Oliver is a drama queen—something you suspect he inherited from his father. 

“See? All better,” your husband is saying, wedding band glinting as gold as the curls that fall to his eyes as he smooths a bandaid over Oli’s wound. Seeing him like this never gets old.

Oli’s crying chokes to a confused halt. 

“It still hurts,” he complains. 

“I’m sorry, buddy. But you shouldn’t’ve pushed.”

“I wanted to be her f-friend,” Oli says, his sweet little bow lips (all Spencer) beginning to pout again. 

Your husband wipes Oliver’s already teary cheeks gently. “I know, but she didn’t know that. Not everybody likes to be pushed, even when you’re playing, because it’s kinda mean, isn’t it?”

“I was not being mean.”

“Do you push all your friends?”

“Sometimes,” Oliver says stormily. Spencer gives him a knowing look. 

“Are you sure you didn’t push her just because she’s a girl?”

Little shoulders raise and drop heavily. Guilty. 

“I know it’s sometimes hard to make friends with girls, but they generally don’t like being pushed. Not anymore than boys do. Maybe even less.”

“Then how do I make friends with them?”

Spencer considers this. 

“Well… how do you usually make friends?”

“I ask if they wanna play.”

“Sounds like you already know how to make friends with girls, then. That’s all you have to do.”

“How did you be friends with mommy?” Oli asks, bunching the blanket in his little hand. You smile to yourself.  

Spencer’s eyes flash up to you for only a second, his lips parted in what only you would recognize to be amusement. 

“I was super nice to her. Me and mommy are really good friends, right?”

Oliver nods dutifully. 

“Do you know why?”

A shake of his little curly head, this time.

“Because when you’re nice to someone, it usually makes them want to be your friend. Not always. But you have a much better chance that way. If I pushed mommy the first time we met, I don’t think we’d be here today.”

Your lips flatten to zip in a laugh. To Oliver, this is a very serious matter. To you, too. It’s important that he grows up to treat people well. 

“Why not?”

Spencer dodges the question smoothly. 

“Why don’t you try going to apologize to her? She might not want to talk to you, and that’s okay. But if you say you’re sorry, maybe you guys can play nicely together.”

This determines the already willful Oliver, who pushes up clumsily before running down the knoll on his short legs and approaching the swing set where his earlier assailant now plays alone. He stops far enough away that he can make a break for it if she gets a fixing to push him again. Smart boy. 

You and Spencer observe the interaction carefully, and while you can’t hear what’s being said, things seem to go well. Soon they’re making their way to the little kid’s playground in tandem. 

“Super nice, huh?”

“I really wanted to be your friend,” Spencer counters, scooting closer to Marianne’s bassinet. “Hi, angel,” he coos, demeanor instantly softening as he strokes her soft cheek. You can’t help smiling. The look in his eyes is truly something to behold. “God, I’m never gonna get over how much she looks like you.”

You preen and try to hide it. “You can’t possibly know that yet. Her skeletal structure is far from fully developed.” 

“Uh oh,” Spencer says to Marianne, offering her a quarter of a strawberry from a Tupperware. “Mommy is starting to sound like me. Is that scary, or what?”

Marianne cackles and burbles and takes the fruit with her little clutching fingers, only missing her mouth the first time she tries to eat it. 

“You’re so good at this,” you murmur thoughtlessly. The moment Oliver was born he’d been a natural. Earlier, even. You saw it in his eyes the second you tearfully told him you were pregnant. He’s a man of many gifts—and that extends to the way he parents. 

His gaze turns to you, still just as soft, but more knowing, on you. It’s comforting, to be known and seen and loved like that. 

“Couldn’t do it without you.”

“Corny,” you tease.

He shuffles on his knees to be closer to you. “Biologically factual.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he pulls you into him with an arm and presses a firm kiss to your head. 

“Have I told you how much I appreciate you recently?” He murmurs into the quiet dark against your temple, shielded from the spring sun. 

You’re melting in his hold, the way you always do. “Mhm.”

“Good. There’s nobody I’d rather be super nice to.”

You breathe him in—feel the rush of happy chemicals flood your brain.

“What if I pushed you?”

“You wouldn’t do that,” he asserts, pulling back and framing your face between his hands. 

“But if I did.”

He regards you with narrowed eyes. 

“Why? Am I in trouble?”

“Maybe.” But you say it too coyly. The corner of his mouth twitches. 

“I’d forgive you,” Spencer murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “But if you want to be my friend, you can just ask, lovely.”

One more quick peck, and he’s situating himself to lay his head in your lap once more. You slide his sunglasses on for him once he’s settled, and he catches your hand, kissing your knuckles. Your lips twist. 

“You make it so hard to want to push you. I need you to be mean.”

He laughs. 

“Too bad. I like being nice to you.”

[roadkill-creatures]

I know this is a little out of nowhere, but I'd like to thank everyone for the love and support on my art. The likes, reblogs, comments, follows, asks, it all means so much to me! I tend to not reply as I'm somewhat nervous with online interaction, but I've seen every kind thing you've all left on my posts. I never thought I'd be able to reach past my small circle of mutuals and it amazes me that I have over 4,000 people who care enough about my art to follow along.

I'm still trying to get through all of my ask box, so if you've submitted something and haven't seen me respond yet, don't worry! I've seen them all and I'm just thinking up good responses for the moment!

I'm also still working on creating affordable fandom knickknacks for you all to enjoy! I've been waiting for a stable income to continue selling on my etsy, but once I've got it, I will come up with more designs to become stickers and keychains! I'm still just dipping my toes into the water right now when it comes to selling products, so expect that this may take awhile. Eventually, I'd like the shop to be self sustaining, where each sale covers the cost of production and shipping, but right now I haven't quite figured it all out-

Okay rant over thanks you all fror listeninf im 🥺🥺🥺

[respectthepetty]

Little crumps on Joong/Est drama. Today there was SkyNani concert and Est starred as a guest while Joong, William, and Dunk came to watch. Joong and William sat next to each other and William seems to be telling Joong about the glasses Est gave to him. Btw William and Joong were never on bad terms with each other. Then Dunk posted a pic with Est and other two on twitter. Dunk went extra careful mode this time though and also posted a pic of Joong together in the same post so Joong's fans wouldn't come attacking him as if he killed their parents like the last time. This got people talking if this will be one step towards Est and Joong reconciling. As far as I searched there was no direct interaction with Joong and Est though.

Have you heard of this? What do you think?

I once wondered if Joong and Est got into a fight because they worked together on ThamePo set, but since it involved Daou who's not in the series and other ThamePo cast are okay with Joong, it must've been a personal issue between Joong and Est and somehow Daou in the middle.

Also Joong & Dunk seem to have patched things up recently unless it's an act. But they looked sort of okay now imho.

I love this! I am eating popcorn with a cotton candy ICEE while enjoying this chisme, but I see your shade, which makes me love it even more!

Dunk went extra careful mode this time though and also posted a pic of Joong together in the same post so Joong's fans wouldn't come attacking him as if he killed their parents like the last time.

I don't know much about the Sky x Nani fancon, but national government agencies need to hire the people in charge of Twitter and Instagram fan accounts because I got a lot of information in less than a minute when I went to look up what you wrote.

I agree Dunk is being careful about his social media because not only did he post a picture with Est, he made sure this was in his story to show off Sky and Nani's mascots — it's Joong's unzipped pants.

Which kind of makes sense since Joong was at the merch booth during the con selling products like the mascot keychains.

But as you wrote, he was seated right next to William during the show, so if this was arranged seating, I love the shady ass bitch at GMMTV who made that chart.

I also know Hong debuted his pink hair (and that Mark Pakin looked hot in his plaid skirt which I don't have pictures of)

But to focus on your statement about Joong and Est's fight happening during the filming of ThamePo since everyone else seems cool with Joong, I think it happened at the beginning of it or BEFORE filming ThamePo because they were still friends in July, filming for the series happened July/August-November, and Joong and Est apparently blocked each other in September and weren't interacting at the ATEEZ concert, so me being the nosy bitch that I am thinks the filming of this scene happened AFTER their fight, so no one else was involved.

So what I'm understanding is the beef is just isolated to them.

And I'm still getting Dare You To Death.

I appreciate Sky x Nani having an event, so the Jaidee fans could focus on what matters most to us: Joong, Dunk, and chisme.

Bless.

[iguessitsjustme]

When It Rains It Pours Ep 6 Thoughts

I have had an incredibly weird day. But the good news is that I can finally watch this episode which will most likely shatter my heart to pieces. BUT it's the first week that I'm watching with everyone else then we all get to spend a week thinking about it and talking about it together. What a wonderful little community this show has here on tumblr (you all have been so nice and so smart and so willing to scream with others and you are all the best forever no matter what anyone else says). I wasn't sure I was gonna continue my liveblog, but here I am. Continuing it. Under the cut:

SEI IS BUYING THE COFFEE. I REPEAT SEI IS BUYING THE COFFEE. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I have run out of words. Please tell me someone else has talked about this…I'm not even 5 seconds into the show yet god damn I should control myself.

BUT THEN HE COULDN'T PAY? OH SWEET JESUS. There is meaning here. (sirens hurry the fuck up and drive by I am trying to watch a masterpiece)

Baby boy the feelings are reciprocated. He will save you if you let him. And you can save him in turn.

This. Bastard. Is trying to move Sei away. To alienate him further. He doesn't want Sei to have anyone in his life except him. If he hadn't answered that phone call, he wouldn't be considering moving.

Anger.

Anger and hatred and violence.

His job is literally the only place he ever sees people! He doesn't even really interact with them! But he at least has a place where should he need to talk to someone outside of Fujisawa, there are people there. Not just Kazuaki. But other coworkers. Who based on what we've seen, are all friendly and kind enough. And now Fujiisawa is trying to remove the ONE place Sei has that he does not have access to. I am screaming and crying and gonna jump into this show to knee this man in the groin.

The fact that Sei is listening to rain sounds means that Kazuaki remembered and sent him the link to listen to rain sounds when he wanted. It means that Kazuaki remembered. Thought of him and their conversation. Even before they knew about the emails. He remembered.

You ask like you have a right to know.

He doesn't ask like a friend who's curious and cares about his friend being happy and meeting someone. He asks like he is entitled to that information.

Sei's entire confession is so matter of fact. He doesn't sound remorseful or like he's been caught cheating. He just openly admits to it. Because he knows he likes Kazuaki. Or do we as a fandom call him Hagiwara? I'm not sure on that I just went by what the gaga summary called him for an episode. Please let me know. Anyway. Sei said he started catching feelings.

HE THREW THE PHONE I KILL HIM

GET OFF OF HIM I KILL YOU

SHOOTING LASERS AT HIM

SHOOTING MORE LASERS

Look how red Fujisawa's face is. This is some brilliant lighting work. He is literally red like the devil. Dressed in all black. Pinning Sei down as Sei claws for freedom.

GET OFF OF HIM I WILL RIP YOUR ARMS OFF

Get em baby. Tell him he is the least desirable man on earth.

The purposeful dissonance in the soundtrack right now is truly amazing. (Now I just need these fucking sirens to GO AWAY)

Okay. So I know there's a line to push Fujisawa off a cliff, but what if before anyone pushes him, I go to the bottom and I add some fun little spikes. Just as a treat. For us.

Oh so he just apologizes? I'm gonna stab you with broken glass.

It will take me a minute before I'm able to analyze anything because I am so livid. (I also am angry from something specific at work today so I was already primed for anger and then this fucker)

Hissing

He couldn't if he wanted to. He is a good person. And you are in a bad situation. The second he learns how bad it is, he is never gonna ignore you until he knows you are safe. Until he knows you are free.

HE SEES THE BRUISE. HE KNOWS. HE KNOWS.

Omg I'm gonna cry. The music here. The music. The everything.

No baby boy don't walk away!

What in the homophobia…

If you liked him you would have talked to him. Communicated. If you liked him, you would have set him free. You don't like him. You like the idea of him. And I hope you never find anyone else to trap and make miserable the way you trapped him.

GET HER. READ HER ASS.

Now that Kaori is finally talking to Kazuaki, the framing is different. Before, there was a booth creating a physical barrier between them. Now there is nothing. They are sitting at the same table. Open. Communication. This should have happened SO MUCH EARLIER. Girl. I hate you.

The thing that pisses me off the most about Kaori is that her feelings and her relationship towards sex are completely valid. And she has every right to feel the way she feels. But she never once said anything. She never once told her partner how she was feeling. Even though she knew she was hurting him. She knew he was miserable. But instead of talking to him, she let him suffer. Because she liked him. And she knew an outcome of that talk could have led to them breaking up. And she was so incredibly selfish to never let that happen. She would rather he be miserable and hers than be happy and be free. And that I cannot forgive her for.

And she makes him do the dirty work of breaking up with her. Because she never could do the right thing. Honestly, I think even if she hadn't found out, it would not be long before he broke up with her anyway. He found his happiness elsewhere and he would not be able to live with himself knowing he cheated and knowing he was in love with someone else. Anyway. She should have at least had the decency to be the one to end things because she was not capable of doing it when she should have. AN ENTIRE FUCKING YEAR AGO.

There is something to this show being sandwiched by those two getting coffee. One who wasn't able to get it and one who was kept waiting but did get it eventually.

Also our baby boy is free now! No matter what else happened. He is no longer trapped. He can and will find his happiness. Now he just needs to save Sei.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE'S NO PREVIEW. IS THERE NO PREVIEW? HELP????

I will probably need to sit with this episode for at least a day to process it before the thoughts come flooding out.

I have hatred in my heart.

[okaysonny]

Saw that your reqs are open, so I wanted to ask for a platonic one-shot, hope you don't mind! I have this headcanon where the reader is Daniel's younger twin who is mute and whose behavior is very much like Vasco's. Maybe that's why Daniel could understand Jay without a problem— because he grew up with us and knew exactly what we wanted before we learned how to write or even any form of sign language (and also why he seems very patient and a bit unfazed by his friend group's silliness, if I'm not mistaken-).

a/n: i like very much 😍 you can chalk their communication down to TWINK TELEPATHY but this is a better explanation

headcanons bc anon said in another ask they dm👍🏽

★ daniel knowing sign language because of his twin is saur cute...him picking up on little gestures when they were both small </3

★ in the beginning of lookism, he was lowkey a pos. (yelled at his mom + blamed her for his life) so with his mom working all the time, daniel has to take responsibility in minding them. thinks his sibling is a bit of a nuisance, especially because of that bubbly, enthusiastic energy that vasco has.

★ buuut, he doesn't realise how much his experiences - the sign language, the (although reluctant) patience and care - sets him apart. not everyone has those skills, even if he thinks it's normal.

★ there's this scene at the start where daniel yells at his mom for putting an egg in his ramen 😭 i see his twin giving a judgmental look after, and daniel feels guilty. still, he does have a what would they know? attitude.

★ when daniel was transferring schools, he felt bad about running away from his problems and leaving his mom by herself. so i also think he'll feel bad about leaving his sibling by themselves too. they'll be on their own when his mom is working.

★ he’d sit down and have this so...i won't be here with you anymore. you'll be fine, right? conversation. daniel ask a bunch of questions for his own reassurance, and they just nod at everything.

★ cue emotional moment where his twin suddenly hugs him...and daniel realises he'll actually miss them. he starts crying, overwhelmed by the thought of leaving everything behind.

★ as daniel goes through his character growth, his connection with jay makes more sense now. his understanding of jay’s nonverbal communication comes naturally because he grew up doing the same with his sibling! in a way, with jay's friendship, he wants to make up for those early moments when daniel was dismissive with them.

★ thanksgiving arc reunion (the first one) would be heart tugging! i can see his sibling's appearance changing slightly. maybe they sign something like i knew you’d be okay and he tears up all over again.

★ his twin is looking after their mom now. daniel is grateful and proud, it's something that he never did before he moved away.

★ i don't think daniel really reveals personal details to his friends? so if his sibling visits him while everyone's around...it would be really funny. if the twin is a guy, everyone's like why are there two of them? if it’s a girl, it’s…why is daniel in a wig?

★ because his sibling has vasco's traits, i can defo see vasco having these intense conversations with them through gestures and nods. vasco doesn’t question it at all — he just asks more questions, completely fascinated. everyone else is like ermmm wtf

★ JAY AND HIS TWIN INTERACTING WOULD BE SO CUTE!!! they’d be communicating with quiet excitement :') a heartwarming moment for both of them, realising they aren’t alone in their experiences.