#where even just thinking about it makes you uncomfortable. THAT'S the kind of trauma that leads to did. the truly evil stuff.

[xyywrites]

The Psychology of Morally Grey Characters: What Makes Them Tick

What Makes a Character Morally Grey?

They’re not fully good or evil. Instead, they operate in the messy middle, where ethics clash with desires, survival, or flawed logic.

They’re justifiable but not excusable. Readers might understand their motives but can’t always condone their actions.

The Psychology Behind Morally Grey Characters

1. They Operate Based on Personal Morality

Grey characters don’t lack morals—they just don’t align with societal norms. They may follow their own code of ethics, which can feel justified to them but questionable to others.

Walter White (Breaking Bad): His descent into crime stems from wanting to provide for his family. His personal moral code excuses his actions, even as they spiral into destruction.

2. Their Actions Stem from Trauma or Desperation

Morally grey characters often carry scars—trauma, loss, or desperation drive them into morally ambiguous territory.

Zuko (Avatar: The Last Airbender): His quest to capture the Avatar is fueled by years of familial abuse and a desperate desire for his father’s approval. His actions are harmful, but his pain is undeniable. 

3. They Prioritize Their Goals Above Morality

A morally grey character may believe the ends justify the means. They’re willing to cross lines for what they see as a greater good—or personal ambition.

Kaz Brekker (Six of Crows): He’ll lie, steal, and kill to protect his crew and achieve his goals. 

4. They Live in Shades of Contradiction

Humans are contradictory, and morally grey characters embrace this truth. They can be kind one moment and ruthless the next, depending on their circumstances.

5. They Force Readers to Question Their Own Morality

The best morally grey characters don’t just act—they make readers uncomfortable. They challenge black-and-white thinking and force readers to empathize with the unthinkable.

Thanos (Marvel Cinematic Universe): His belief in sacrificing half the universe for survival sparks fierce debates about utilitarianism versus morality.

Tips for Writing Morally Grey Characters

1. Give Them a Relatable Core

Readers don’t need to agree with your character, but they need to understand them. Ground their actions in something universal—love, survival, revenge, or a desire for belonging.

2. Show Their Justifications

Grey characters don’t see themselves as villains. They often have strong internal logic that explains their choices, even if the world disagrees.

3. Make Them Likable in Unexpected Ways

Even the darkest characters should have moments of levity, charm, or vulnerability. These moments make readers root for them despite their flaws.

4. Give Them Moments of Humanity

Highlight their internal conflict or flashes of goodness to remind readers they’re human, not caricatures.

5. Show the Consequences of Their Actions

Grey characters rarely walk away unscathed. Their decisions should create fallout—relationships broken, guilt weighing on their conscience, or irreversible damage.

Examples of Morally Grey Characters in Fiction

1. Severus Snape (Harry Potter):

His cruelty toward Harry is undeniable, but his love for Lily adds layers of tragic complexity.

2. Victor Frankenstein (Frankenstein):

A brilliant scientist driven by ambition, Victor creates life but abandons his creature, sparking tragedy.

3. Thomas Shelby (Peaky Blinders):

A crime lord who manipulates, kills, and betrays, yet he fiercely protects his family and battles his inner demons.

4. Eleanor Shellstrop (The Good Place):

Selfish and manipulative, Eleanor starts as morally grey but evolves as she confronts her flaws and learns to do good.

Morally grey characters live in the space between right and wrong, where humanity is at its rawest and most interesting. By exploring their contradictions, vulnerabilities, and justifications, you can create characters that feel as real and complex as life itself.

[hoshifighting]

how seventeen would act with reader having daddy issues

WARNINGS: it may be sensitive to some people, and there are mentions of past traumas and family issues. mostly of it is basically, seventeen and their family taking care of you <3

a/n: this was an ask that was in my inbox for a long time, sorry about this 🥺 and worse, I was writing it, and the light have gone off, so ivé lost the drabble and I cant find in my inbox, I just know that it was from my bestie hannieween, sorry about the long time 🥺🙏 I hope you like it

seungcheol: already planning how to spoil you just to make up for what you didn’t get. this man would not let you suffer through those awkward, tense family reunions. the second you even hint at feeling uncomfortable, he’s pulling you out of there and taking you straight to his family’s place. his dad, a total sweetheart. he’s the type to sit you down, ask how you’re doing, and genuinely listen. and that’s when it hits you—this is where seungcheol gets his protective streak. his dad’s got the same energy, always making sure you’re taken care of. it’s like you’re part of their family now, and honestly, it feels better than anything you’ve ever known.

jeonghan: he’s sneaky about it, but in the most loving way. like, he knows you’ve got that hole where support should be, and he’s filling it without making it obvious. he’d get his mom and dad to invite you over for a casual dinner, but then it’s all about you. “oh, y/n loves pasta, mom,” he’d say, nudging you under the table when you get shy. his parents adore you, and jeonghan’s sitting back, watching you laugh at his dad’s corny jokes with this smug little grin, like, yeah, that’s my baby.

joshua: he’d plan random trips to his family’s place, just so you can hang out with his mom. like, one weekend, you’re baking cookies with his mom, and the next, you’re playing guitar with his uncle. josh is always hovering, making sure you’re comfortable, but lowkey beaming when he sees you getting along with his family. he’s super patient, too—he never pushes, just waits for you to open up when you’re ready. and when you do... he’s holding your hand, whispering, “see? they love you, just like i do.”

junhui: he’d make sure you feel like you belong there too. he’d take you home during the holidays, and suddenly, his mom’s treating you like her own kid. jun would sit next to you at dinner, quietly making sure you’re okay, squeezing your hand under the table whenever he notices you getting overwhelmed. he’s just sitting there, watching it all unfold, thinking, yeah, this is what you deserve.

hoshi: this man would straight-up share his dad with you. like, he’d plan trips for the three of you—fishing, hiking, picnics, you name it. and he’d be so proud when you start opening up to his dad. he gets that it’s gonna take time, but when he sees you laughing at his dad’s terrible puns, he’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. sometimes, when hoshi’s away for schedules, you’d even hang out with his dad without him. he’ll be texting you like, “my dad loves you more than me now 😭.” and even when he’s away for work, his family still makes time for you, calling you over to hang out or have dinner.

woozi: jihoon’s not big on family talk, but he knows you are, and he gets it. instead of dragging you into his family stuff, he makes a point of creating a new kind of support for you. like, you want to skip a stressful family dinner? cool, you’re spending the night at his place, binge-watching your favorite shows and eating takeout. he’s not one for big gestures, but he makes sure you always know you’re not alone. his quiet, steady presence is the comfort you never knew you needed.

wonwoo: he’d just sit there, letting you talk, and then hit you with the most thoughtful response ever, like, “you didn’t deserve that, but you deserve everything good now. let me be that for you.” giving you the world’s warmest hug, he’d probably start joking about being your emotional support cat forever.

minghao: he fully believes in breaking cycles, so he’s the guy who helps you redefine what family even means. he’d take you to meet his ambient, his friends, his family, everywhere where he KNOWS you'll be taken care off. he’d also start little traditions with you, like Sunday morning walks or trying new restaurants, just to build something stable and comforting for you. he's not trying to be your dad—of course. but he's trying to make programs that he remembered doing with his dad and that somehow, marked his trajectory. he wants you to experience that too.

mingyu: when shit gets heavy, he doesn’t try to fix it all at once—he just sits with you, lets you cry on his shoulder, strokes your hair, and whispers, “you’re not alone, okay? you’ve got me.” when you’re ready, he’s like, “now, what do you want to do about it?” and he’ll back you no matter what. he’ll drag you out to do the most random shit—karaoke, late-night drives, baking cookies at 2 a.m.—just so you’re not stuck in your head. and when you thank him later, he’s like, “who, me? nah nah.”

seokmin: he is the kind of guy who’ll carry you—literally. if you’re overwhelmed, he’ll scoop you up like you weigh nothing and plant you on the couch with snacks, a blanket, and whatever dumb movie he picked. “you don’t need to do anything today,” he says, plopping down beside you with the softest smile. but also, he won’t sugarcoat things, but he also doesn’t let you get stuck in negative self-talk. “you’re worth more than what he made you feel.”

seungkwan: got a sixth sense for this kinda thing. you don’t even have to say the words—he knows. he’s the type to gently steer the convo every time someone in your family says something shitty, or he’ll swoop in with some sarcastic-ass joke to take the heat off you. but when it’s just the two of you, he’s soft as hell, cuddling you, stroking your hair, and reminding you that he’s your safe space now. he’d probably even offer to go with you to therapy, just to sit there and hold your hand.b

vernon: he’ll say the goofiest shit to make you laugh—like doing terrible impressions of your least favorite family members or purposely messing up on kendama. doesn’t even try to hide how much he loves you. when you’re down, he’s the type to turn everything into a you’re amazing campaign. random notes in your bag, impromptu “you’re so cool” chants, and hugs so tight they might crack your ribs.

chan: baby’s the sweetest. he’s lowkey hurt that you’ve had to deal with that kind of stuff, so he makes it his mission to show you what love and support really look like. chan’s family would love you, and he’d be so excited to share them with you. he’d plan little visits where it’s just you, him, and his parents, so it’s not overwhelming. later, he’d check in, like, “did you have fun? was it okay?” because all he wants is for you to feel loved and safe.

[mctvsh]

first post here so i'm quite nervous, but!

all i can think of kidnapped!enemy!medic!reader x poly!tf141

cw: military & war inaccuracies + some medical inaccuracies as well, reader uses she/her pronouns, and is mostly girl based, mentions of religion & prayer, first time writing so it will unfortunately be sloppy 💕

let's just say the boys (mostly one you've come to known as, Ghost) haven't been too kind to you. taken from a random battlefield where you were technically there to help YOUR team. they practically throw you over their shoulder and find some fucked up abandoned building with nobody around to help..

great. now what?

you're mostly terrified, and a little pissed. you've heard a few things about them, whispers around your base which, to be frank, aren't the kindest words you've heard about someone! one of them is bleeding out, some guy with a mohawk and a Scottish accent. some gash on his.. thigh? you haven't really been listening since you're scared out of your mind.

your clothes are sticking quite uncomfortably on you, the wet concrete floor has made your ass numb. until they all come in. staring down at you like you're some piece of prey, holding a limping Scot.

"Fix him, yeah?" mutton-chops.

your eyes snap over to the guy who you assumed is the Captain. huh!?

"Uh- I.. need my tools-" you practically squeak out. avoiding eye contact. your medbag was taken from you the second they basically claimed you as 'theirs.'

you hear a grunt (Ghost, you're guessing) and then, thankfully, your medbag being thrown right at you.

you bite at your now chapped lips and create a makeshift bed with your jacket now on the floor and hesitantly nod to the dark skin. he was pretty, ah — getting side tracked. he was the one holding the Scot up, who had stopped his incessant comments (jokes, but weren't very funny) and was now grunting.

unfortunately, you're a medic, a person who helps people, before you're anything else.

the dark skinned male sets the Scot down, and you can see his shudder.. and you almost begin to feel bad before you feel a gun pressed to your back.

great.

"I can't help him if you're doing that." you swallow, thickly. you'll be killed!? isn't that a damn war crime!?

you feel the gun retreat after a few seconds of silence. you breathe out, albeit shakily, but trying not to give them a chance to know how terrified you were.

you locate the source of the bleeding, it isn't too bad at all. you open your medbag, grab some trauma shears, and you cut through his slacks, big enough to work on the stab wound which wasn't too deep but it still needed stitches.

you grab some gauze, disinfectant, numbing cream, and a thread and needle. okay, time to get to work..

it had been a little over 10 minutes. finally finished up with stitching as you place a bandage around his thigh, his pant leg wasn't fully cut off so it was definitely still wearable..

the second you finish up you're being pulled away by the scruff of your neck (Ghost again), your tools splayed out on the floor, thrown off to the side with a Captain staring down right at you.

"Your name?"

you blink up at him. muttering your name as you shuffle a little closer to the corner of the abandoned building. the dark skin and Ghost hover over the Scot instead. which meant that mutton-chops over here, was gonna grill you.. you think. until he stays silent and gives a hum in acknowledgment.

he would be handsome, kind even, if he wasn't staring down at you like that.

your eyes flick over to a Scot who had now been sat up with the help of a narrow eyed dark skin. you bite down, hard at your bottom lip. drawing some blood. you hear a grunt coming from the Scot who had, unfortunately, been feeling okay.

seems the numbing cream did it's job.. because he's back to flirting and making jokes.

"Thanks for patchin' me up, bonnie."

it's not like you had a choice... you nod at him and continue looking down at the floor.

"We'll take 'er back to base." Ghost.

your eyes widen and you suddenly feel a little more religious, praying to whatever God is up there and hoping for the best.

"Aye, a pretty lass, ain't she?" that damn Scot!

they're talking as if you're not right here!

"We still have hours before there's a chopper coming for us." the Captain, and that's all he says as he brings out a cigar. lighting it in your face as if it's some.. joke.

"Aye." the skull-mask says before his brooding body walks over to a corner, staring down at you with his arms crossed over his chest.

and suddenly, you feel a very familiar lump in your throat.. back to THEIR base!? who knows what they'll do to you..

[morallygreychaoticneutral]

Astarion is only real around you.

More in my head only canons about this seemingly simple conundrum of an elf. Contains some game spoilers.

Astarion is only "real" around you. And by real, I mean his true personality as he regains it.

Trust clearly goes a long way with him and if you befriended or romanced him, you've earned it and that is no small thing.

One hidden truth being that he is capable of caring. Something that got him into one hell of a predicament in the past that makes him reject that aspect of himself.

However, you were a complication he did not see coming.

Around the group he is guarded. More resting bitch face and flippant retorts. Most of the banter he has with the party reflects this. His answers are mostly deflective or avoidant.

Lae'zel: "The more I learn of this plane Astarion, the more I believe love is its greatest disease."

Astarion: "Oh, I don't know. The screaming fever is pretty bad."

( I laughed till I had a headache when I heard this the first time.)

Trauma armor : People can't hurt you, if you offer no weapons. So he makes it seem he is aloof and unmoved under the mask of sass.

But as time progresses he shows you that hidden part more often.

For example, his comment about he noticed how kindly you speak to him and about not selling yourself so short in the conversation after his siblings attack. Which to me translated to "Don't speak about yourself as if you are not a unicorn amongst jackasses you abnormally wonderful person." Or the Dark Urge speech where he tells you he is not afraid of you and is by your side no matter what. He's genuine, soft and giving full eye contact in those statements. Its just you and him and he's confident and forward. But wouldn't dare show such vulnerability with the others. Such as when you meet Araj in act 3 (Spawnstarion) he still expresses his concern about not wanting you hurt, but it comes out like its uncomfortable to express.

The difference? People are around. And it's not that he's ashamed. But it proves he has a soft spot for you and he learned that is dangerous information in the hands of others. So the armor goes back on.

Even a the epilogue party, he genuinely wants his friends happy. But he still keeps his distance and instead grouses about the lack of blood.

Which was kind of rude on Withers’ part. Really you dusty rag? You obviously made a stop at a butcher shop.

Anyway...

I like to think Astarion info dumps Gale style when you are alone together after a day of adventuring.

Him telling you excitedly about something he witnessed or learned. His face animated with the memory of how he felt about it. His hands gesturing wildly to make his point. Or laughing so hard at a mishap he has to wipe tears off his face. Or contemplating how each companions' are doing amidst their own plights.

You: "Aww, I can't wait to tell Gale you are worried about him."

Astarion: "Pft..you can try my love. But, thanks to my hard work, he would never believe you."

[fruitiesss]

bob reynolds !! sfw alphabet

let me know if ur interested in an nsfw alphabet! enjoy <3

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

bob comes across as very shy and closed off with newer people, but with his friends he's very touchy and sweet. he wants the people he cares about to understand how much he cares about them with hugs and gifts and acts of service. he needs the reassurance so he assumes everybody else does.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

kind of like how the thunderbolts took one look at this sad wet cat and decided 'that's mine now', he kind of has that affect on everybody. he trusts you a lot.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

he would cuddle with an s/o or a best friend. bob loves the contact, it grounds him and makes him feel human so best believe he's all about cuddles when he's comfortable enough with you. He likes to spoon the most, he doesn't mind being the big spoon but he prefers little.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

as i've said before, bob can't cook great. he makes decent sandwiches thanks to his horrible upbringing but he's used to survival foods since he spent most of his time high or backpacking and homeless. he's hesitant to have kids though he does want one or two if you're interested.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he would hate himself for it, but it would take a LOT for him to even consider it. like a lot. he wouldn't end it over text, he'd want to treat you first with dinner and maybe let you down easily, staying friends if it wasn't an absolutely horrible thing.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

you're gonna have to propose. he's a nervous wreck, scared of committing in case he messes it up. he has a lot of past trauma and baggage that he doesn't want to put on anyone, despite you telling him it's okay. once you're over the first part of your relationship and he's comfortable with casual affection, he'd 100% want to get married.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

he's very gentle. like you're fine china gentle. after he voided out and learned what he was capable of, he was scared of himself for so long and would hate himself if he was even a little rough with you. emotionally, too, he's very hesitant to share his feelings and emotions, he's very much a push over and easily manipulated.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

when the thunderbolts defeat the void with the power of friendship. send post. yes, he likes hugs. yes, he initiates them often and he is very soft and warm, he runs hot.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

he says it platonically, so he's fast to say it with his partner. his friends are very close to him and he truly does love them all.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

bob doesn't get jealous, he just gets really sad. he needs the reassurance. if you're touchy with a stranger, he's stuck in his head and thinking that he's not doing good enough for you, or he doesn't satisfy you enough.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

he loves forehead kisses but regular chaste kisses on the lips are great too, makes him flustered when you pepper them all over his face. he wasn't so experienced when he kissed you at first since he's never had time for anything romantically charged, but he gets it quickly!

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

he likes children, he's good with them, but they make him uncomfortable when he's babysitting or have to be around them a lot. he hates children in restaurants.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

mornings are slow. he gets out of bed late, slips out quietly and reads a book with a mug of tea. very calm, very nice.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

nights are also slow, very relaxed and sweet. he likes to cuddle in bed and is very touchy when he's tired, his hands glued to your hips or waist. the physical contact helps him feel like everything is real.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

he does it very slowly and needs to be prompted. he works through things with his therapist, helping him with his memory issues. those would be a big hurdle in getting to know much about him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

he gets angry and sad at the same time. like the shaking with tears. if he's being annoyed nonstop he will cry, but if something's happening to his friends and he can't do anything about it. boom. void.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

he tries his best, bless him, he's not the best with remembering things. he knows your full name, birthday, but that's pretty much it. unless there's something big about you that's similar to him, he's already forgetting it.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

he loves the little things but his absolute favourite moment is when he was trying to bake cupcakes for you because you told him you liked them, and absolutely making a mess of the kitchen. you caught him in the act and helped him clean up the mess. the look on your face when he told you he's done this for you is burned into his retinas. he loves your smile.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

bob's protective in his own way. he's always got his eyes on you whenever he's concerned or worried, and if you're out of sight he'll text every 30 minutes or so to check up on you. he's not too bothered with being protected, he knows he's safe and he wouldn't purposefully put himself in danger again.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he sets reminders on his calendar for things like these, and yes he absolutely goes all out. he likes to be romantic. he wants to give you everything he's got. it's really sweet. everyday tasks are really all he has, so yes he goes above and beyond for these too.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

he picks and bites his nails. it's a habit he's had since he was small and he has no interest in trying to stop, so his nails are always short. he also still gets withdrawals from meth so he scratches at his arms or tugs on his hair when he's feeling them and hides it from you because he's ashamed.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

he's not too concerned. he's looked much much worse than he ever will again so he's just happy to be healthy again.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

yes. once you're in a relationship with him you are a part of him. his arms feel empty when you're not there and his heart aches when he's not with you. he's clingy and it's sweet.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

he's very specific with his hair. he likes it cut a certain way and he doesn't like getting it dyed (he only did it because valentina really wanted him to).

he loves fidget toys.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

drugs, alcohol, anything with an addictive nature. it scares him. otherwise he can adapt, he's happy to take what he can get, and he loves you too much for something to get in the way of it.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

he doesn't sleep much. a lot of the time he lays awake and still, it's quite creepy when you wake up and he's just staring at you wide-eyed. he sleeps more when the sun's out than when it's dark because he doesn't feel safe when it's dark.

[loveafterdeath-if]

Yeah, similarly to what another anon said, I was kinda hoping for this to be a story about moving on after losing a lived one, specifically your partner, which I thought was a beautiful and heartbreaking concept, and while we did get that in the first few chapters, it feels like this plot twist kind of defeats the whole point.

Though, unlike the other anon, I personally will probably continue reading because I think you are an amazing writer and because I love Ekissa. The only thing that makes me not sure about continuing is that the situation is a bit awkward, makes me feel a bit uncomfortable, so I was wondering about how you were going to manage it? Because MCs moving on process obviously gets cut short, but for those of us who are gonna romance someone else, we still need to finish that process, and one important thing when moving on from an ex is time apart, especially for one you were grieving not so long ago. Otherwise old feelings, nostalgia and a lot of other emotions get mixed up and that would probably lead to confusion. (Sorry, for the long paragraph, just a bit worried about how this is gonna continue)

It's heavy spoiler territory, but I'll have to address this for anon. And it'll be a long-ass response, so be prepared,

You are right about one thing, the whole plot falls apart if El is alive, doesn't it? And like someone said in the LAD discord "why love after death then". They didn't phrase it exactly like that, but you know what I mean. The plot does start with El, but it won't end with them. Idk how to explain without giving away too much, lol

There are clues that El isn't really dead in the first chapters. The flowers MC receives, and now players know El was the one offering them. The doc and Athiel never talk about death when discussing El. MC doesn't have the right to go to the funeral or even see El's body. Even L being called by Juliet at the beginning will have its importance. They're small details, nothing too obvious, but they're here.

I'll be honest, sometimes when writing Athiel talking with MC, I struggled to remember El wasn't dead because I tried to make it look and feel like El was dead, so I drowned a bit in that department.

The characters might seem like a lot, but each has their own purpose, big or small. Some are a breath of fresh air for MC since they're not caught up in all the drama and can be objective. Others are here because they'll play an important role later. Then there are those who serve as reminders of the past with El (like the neighbors). And some are just like those background characters in anime; you don't even see their features because they're just there to serve a small purpose and keep the intrigue going. They come and go.

Sorry, I'm talking too much. So how I'll manage it, is by—and it's where it's gonna get tricky—make MC aware of it as soon as possible. There will be a reunion between MC and El. The tricky part is showing that El won't remember MC, no matter how much/if the MC tries to jog their memory.

The past El is dead; the memories won't come back, and if any fragments do resurface, El won't feel the love they once had. It's more like a ghost of memories; their body remember, but it's more mechanical than actual feelings. Like an old habit that won't go.

MC will have to grieve the old El anyway, even with them actually alive.

In El's route, it'll be all about falling in love again, getting them out of this toxic relationship with their mother, helping them learn to love themself again, and living with someone who is El but not the El you used to know. They have trauma, the confidence they once had is gone, they're insecure and they're more reserved than before.

Juliet is like, the first villain before introducing the final boss. What I wanted to do was weave two kinda plots in the same book because I didn't want to make two separate books. Love After Death is Love After Death for a reason. The plan is to make the players realize that El wasn't the focus of this book in the first place.

I hope there won't have any inconsistencies in this story, but if you find any plot holes, you're free to let me know, and I'll do my best to improve. It's only with advice and constructive critique that I can do so. I'm sure there are blind spots I won't see right away; I'm only human😭

[kryannoy]

can i request a andrew x reader thing where reader is his lover, his girlfriend, and they are like head over heels in love with eachother, and reader is a female, but for some "traumas" shes a bit nervous to lose her virginity to him. shes also kind of insecure, because of the fact she isnt very feminine, and bcuz of her looks.

(if youre not comfortable with writing this its completely fine!!)

genre: nsfw, smut

character: andrew graves x reader

warnings: praise kink, body dysmorphophobia (?), trauma, virginity loss, cum

a/n: thank you for requesting! i can relate to this as i always make my ocs like this. also, sorry it took long, i'm busy with life

It started with the two of you hanging out and enjoying each other's company. Then, a kiss. And that leads to a make out session.

For Andrew, it was hard for both his self-control and his dick. He couldn't help that you got him turned on and horny now. Of course he doesn't blame you, no. Andrew is mature. He knows himself that he is too in love with you. He loves you so dearly that he couldn't bear to think of you with any other guy. He loves so dearly that he gets hard every time you're close to him and he can smell your sweet perfume. And those times, he always excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

But somehow he's always nonchalant about it and you find it attractive. Obviously, you know the reasons he went to the bathroom but you don't really understand why.

Why did he get turned on seeing your body? It wasn't curvy. You don't have big boobs or squishable ass.

His hands always run down your hip and up to your waist, playing with the fat there while kissing. Sometimes even fiddling the hem of your shirt, pulling and twirling, asking for your permission to go further.

You don't say anything nor give a sign. You were nervous. How do you do this stuff? How do you initiate? What do you have to do? So, you let him do his thing.

That's when he pulls away, leaving traces of saliva connecting from your lips. His green eyes looked at yours, pleading. You know what he wants but again, how do you initiate? Are you even able to go all the way with him?

He senses your unsure feeling and lifts himself up. The warmth radiating from his body is no longer there. "We don't have to do it, y'know. I'm not forcing—"

You grab his sleeves, even more worried about him than yourself. "It's fine. It's just . . ." You were embarrassed to say that you have no idea what to do yet you know he knows that you're a virgin, but he doesn't know that you were somewhat scared of losing it. It's just the thought of putting something foreign inside you is . . . weird and sounds uncomfortable.

"I'll guide you. I promise I'll be gentle," he says so softly it's soothing. His lips pull into a smile, an endearing one that doesn't show any mischievous hint. He pecks your forehead with thumb strokes on your temple. Despite the soft touches, his dick was undeniably rock hard you can feel it brushing on your thigh.

His hand slips inside your shirt and moves upward, riding up your shirt but stopping at the edges of your bra. If you weren't wearing any, he would've reached your nipples for not even feeling the mounds of breasts from how flat it becomes when you lie down. He stares down at you pleadingly before sliding behind you to unclip your underwear.

You were getting nervous once he sees them. What if he's disappointed? What if it turns him off—?

You hear a moan coming from Andrew once he touches one of your nipples. You also let out a sigh from the touch. He pulls off your shirt and bra together and gazes at your naked body.

"Fuck," he moans again under his breath. Oh shit, does he hate it?

He dives into your nipples and gives a hard suck, proving your point wrong. You whimper and that really seems to motivate him. He licks it, suckles on it, even bites it. Your idle nipple has already been paid attention with his fingers, pinching and pulling and flicking. All of it made your head swirl that you can only think of Andrew and the amazing sensations. You've been moaning for him your pussy is getting wet.

When you whimper, he would look up at you but his mouth is still occupied with your nipples. Sometimes you can even feel him smirk.

Once he's satisfied, he switches to the other one. You find the saliva connecting from his lips to your nipple hot. His empty hand starts to inch its way down to your pants. He slips inside and circles on your clothed clit. You gasp, your body reacting to the attention. Your legs automatically close around his hand it made him open it up again and pinned one of your legs down. You whine when he continues to rub on your clit. Your legs keep thrashing but his smile gets wider and his breathings are labour. Somehow, your reaction excites him.

He fully pulls off your pants, leaving your panties on just to purposely pull it aside. He rubs a few on your clit before diving a finger into your hole. When you feel it prodding at your entrance, your eyes widen and you quickly push his hand away without thinking before realizing what you did. You look at him apologetically, but he was fast to reassure too. He kisses your lips and all over your face to distract you. Andrew tries again, touching your hole and slowly pushing it in. Gladly, this time you didn't squirm away.

"Good girl, that's it. You're doing great," he talks you through it before moving his finger. You gasp again but he keeps whispering sweet nothings and praises in your ear.

"Everything's okay. Just relax, alright?" Another kiss on your forehead and you're melting into him.

He picks up his speed, still focusing on your expressions for any signs of discomfort. He adds another finger in and you moan. Your mouth is shaped into an 'O' and he just has the urge to bite your bottom lip so he just does it, even sticking his tongue into your opened mouth. It was an opportunity, he took it.

He feels you tighten around his finger and it makes him grind down on you, accidentally pushing himself deeper. You whine from it.

Andrew takes out his fingers to pull off his pants, flinging his dick out. Your eyebrows furrow upwards at the sight. It made you drool but the realization that that thing is going inside you snaps you.

He notices your worried expression and kisses your nose. "Don't worry. We don't have to go all the way if you're not ready."

You look down at his cock again, hard and red. Very red on the tip. "What about you?"

"I'll do this—" his cock glides on your wet pussy. "Ngh, if you don't mind?"

Your moan and a nod testifies to your consent and his hips got to work. The rubbing of his dick on your pussy and clit was a whole new level of pleasure for you. You thought that that was enough to make you crazy, he pushes in more of his cock into you with his thumb to get more friction and that makes your eyes roll behind and your back arching for more. Your small tits were displayed for him he had to grab onto it and squeeze. Adding a few pinches to your nipple before letting go.

The cute noises coming from your mouth motivates him to go faster and a teensy bit rougher. "Fuck, fuck! I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum! Andrew!"

"Yeah? You're gonna cum? Go ahead, doll. Let go for me. Mmh, fuck! You feel so good."

Your pussy is soaking wet it makes his grinding much easier. And the sight, oh he loves seeing it sloppy. He can't wait to cum on your pussy. The thought makes him close to his climax. "Babe, I can't! I can't— I'm gonna cum!" He whimpers but he didn't know that you've already cummed a few seconds ago.

"I'm cumming! Haa!" He gasps and white shoots out, painting your stomach and your pussy, just like he wanted. He groans as he slowly grinds on you to ride out his orgasm. It took you a moment to notice his cheeks are red and his ears too.

His cum spreads all over pussy and inner thighs now from his slow grinds. Once he pulls away, he can't help but to stare at your messy pussy. Some of the white cum still running down you and it got into your hole. His intrusive thoughts win and he gathers some more cum and pushes them into your hole.

"Andrew!" You gasped from the sudden intrusion.

He chuckles, "Sorry." But his green eyes are still glued to your pussy. "I wanna lick it so bad but I don't want to taste my own cum, haha. Maybe next time."

[c0rpseductor]

it’s so frustrating like i don’t mind depiction of incest i genuinely think more work out there needs to exist about incest bc it is such a deeply isolating experience and bc so many people feel alone and afraid to speak and cannot imagine having lives going forward and are crushed by all of it. there is so so so so much value in having fictional stories about processing it and real accounts and memoirs and open discussion and all that stuff. it is genuinely beyond important that incestuous abuse no longer be relegated to the darkness of secrecy simply because it makes people uncomfortable bc people living with the hell that is incest trauma deserve better than to be forced into isolation and silence. i will always ALWAYS advocate for these topics being discussed frankly. people go decades thinking it is their fault and that they are alone. it’s horrifying the way people who have lived through this become an afterthought and that needs to end.

so like i said like. it frustrates me, then, that the current discussion (where there is one) feels so weighted toward an exploitative and voyeuristic view and where cultural output about incestuous abuse is often like really offensive and clearly framed as being titillating and/or shock value. people joke freely about it in ways that are incredibly denigrating to survivors, there is still a culture of victim blaming and this idea of mutual deviance or dirtiness that makes it extremely difficult to come forward for fear of being not only blamed but fucking castigated for your own sexual abuse, you risk setting off a nuclear bomb in your already fucked up family, people don’t understand you. all the while there’s this air of fucking flippancy, and if you criticize that you’re a prude or a puritan or whatever the fuck else.

like, i get it. i can’t tell people what to do, what to like, how to process their own trauma. but treating it like a joke is not acceptable under any circumstances and that shit is fucking vile. be fucking respectful, be conscientious, you actually do owe it to the people around you and one day you will undoubtedly face social consequences if you continue to be cruel and thoughtless. it’s not even the writing at this point that makes me angry so much as the culture surrounding it where it’s so deeply fictionalized that incest itself gets turned into some sort of little game for people. i just saw people tagging an excerpt from the incest diary, a real human being’s memoir of abuse, with their ships. frankly if hell is real that’s where that kind of ghoulish behavior ought to send you. it disgusts me that i have to rant and rave and beg on my knees for scraps of human decency for myself and my fellow survivors who cannot or will not open themselves to this kind of Sisyphean debasement.

[psychemochanight]

I usually don't talk too much about it cuz it's kinda an awful trope to be honest, but, I was seeing this so much lately, and I just can't with this-

The amount of people who think Dick has had many partners and is a playboy when many of the women (and some men) they use as examples are women who have kissed or touched him WITHOUT his consent is... It's horrible.

I don't know why people think it's normal or a "reward" that so many people have crossed Dick's boundaries just because they tend to portray these people as visually attractive.

Today I just saw a compilation of this kind of situations, and there were 35 photos, and many more were missing. Each image was more uncomfortable than the last.

TW: I'll post some of the comic panels on this topic, they get progressively more uncomfortable, it's nothing that explicit, but still.

In the photos you can see the @ of the account where I got the panels from.

There are many more (like Catalina or Liu panels), that are even more explicit situations, but I think this gets the point across.

I saw people trying to justify Dick being a playboy by saying that maybe he hypersexualizes himself in response to trauma (a real response, it can happen), but this would make more sense if the authors did it on purpose and with that intention, but that is not the case. They don't sexualize Dick's character to give depth to his trauma, they barely even talk about it AT ALL.

So that definitely doesn't excuse it, at least not as a justification from the authors, now if they use it as HC it makes more sense, but only thanks to the fans' interpretation. If it were entirely up to the authors, there is no reason for Dick to be sexualized, not beyond fanservice.

And I hate it.

It's very different to create a sexy character than to sexualize them to the point of objectification.

[oikasugayama]

BSD MEN AS BOYFRIENDS pt. 1

pt. 1 Dazai, Kunikida, Atsushi, and Chuuya. pt. 2 Ango, Ranpo, Poe GN!reader!! Smut in Atsushi and Chuuya's, minor angst in Dazai's

Dazai

Dazai does not use petnames. He does not like them. He will not call you a nickname. He uses nicknames to tease and belittle people or to charm and persuade them. He's not manipulating you into liking him or wanting him. You've come to like him all on your own and he realized when you confessed to him that shit he likes you too.

Contrary to popular belief, Dazai has never been in a proper relationship. He's hooked up with people he's met at bars, paid for sex, maybe even had a FWB before but he's never wanted to put someone at risk by opening his heart to them. When he was in the Mafia he just wasn't able to feel like he can now in the ADA. (That's the trauma, babyyyyy) It's taken him a long time to be able to recognize that maybe he IS human, maybe he does want human things like companionship and love. 

You're special to him. He lets you lead the way entirely. Every move made in your relationship is up to you. That's not to say that he doesn't plan dates or initiate intimacy--he does!!--but when it comes to big stages he makes sure you're still doing what YOU want to do and not just doing what HE wants. He's so used to manipulating and controlling people that he's afraid to do it to you so your presence makes him far more self reflective than he has been before. You call him your boyfriend before he calls you his girlfriend. You say you love him first and he says it twice as often now. He treats you with so much respect he's almost formal. He just thinks you're so incredible for being able to love someone like him. It blows his mind every time you smile at him with adoration sparkling in your eyes. He knows you mean it and that scares him sometimes.

He's a bit messy. He may break up with you once or twice, or try to "take a break" because he scares himself into thinking he doesn't deserve you and is better off dead or just alone. You understand that he's hurting far more than he lets on and you love him SO much so you never let him disappear, you always get him to come back. You know he's human. It's the best part about him.

Kunikida

He's a good boyfriend if you meet him AFTER everyone made fun of his "ideal girlfriend" list and some of the girls in his office taught him that love should be spontaneous and special and not something you plan out to the letter. If you meet him before that, even if you're a great person, he won't give you the time of day.

Though he gives up on the concept of an ideal partner, he does still think that he isn't interested in being in a relationship until he's 26. That is, until you come along.

He knows what it's like to be challenged--he works with Dazai's dumb ass every day--but you challenge him in a way he LIKES. You so innocently tilt your head and ask "why" when he says something must be done in the ideal way, and he doesn't have it in him to scold you for wasting his time. He explains things to you and offers to help whenever you need something. You're so polite and genuinely nice and helpful to him where you can be, so he returns the sentiment tenfold. 

You get him off schedule one day by telling him a story of the last place you worked and he's so enthralled that he starts asking you questions and sharing some of his own work stories-- before he knows it, almost an hour has passed. You apologize and let him go back to work, but all he can think is that he doesn't want you to go away.

He courts you very properly. He waits until you're off the clock and away from the office to ask you on a date. He tells you he likes you and respects you and will never bring it up again if this makes you uncomfortable -- you say yes before he can give any more disclaimers.

He brings you somewhere you've mentioned wanting to go, makes sure you give you a little gift for saying yes to dating him, and he's very kind and gentlemanly the whole night. He even asks before holding your hand while walking you home and before kissing your cheek at the end of the night. 

He keeps work and home VERY separate so even when Dazai notices that Kunikida seems more relaxed and happy and tries to pry the information out of him, Kunikida never tells anyone that you're dating. If it gets around the office, it's because you were talking about your boyfriend with Naomi and she pieced together that it was Kunikida, and she told Junichiro, and he mentions it to Atsushi who tells Kyouka and then everyone knows eventually. Not that it really matters. Once the initial chatter dies down after a few days, everything is back to normal 

Atsushi

NERVOUS CLINGY INSECURE 

We all know this. Almost everyone makes him a nervous boyfriend. Or a clingy one. It's because he IS.

He's afraid to introduce you to his coworkers because he thinks they're all more attractive and more talented and more interesting than him. You have to reassure him over and over that you aren't going to leave him and that it's not nice for him to think you'd boyfriend hop just because someone else came along. That's often how you have to make him calm down: ask if his insecurity is a reflection of you or your actions. He quickly realizes each time that no, you're right, he's projecting. 

He LOVES cuddling. He gets cold very easily given how skinny he is. His favorite evening activity is laying in bed with you under blankets after having a hot meal. If he can crawl into the same sweater you're wearing he'll do it. Sometimes he just sticks his head under your shirt and lays his head on your chest to get warm. Or he'll put his hands in your pockets to keep them warm. He will siphon all of your body heat.

Speaking of heat... 👀🥵 Atsushi loves cockwarming. There, I said it!! He loves it!! He'll mewl in your ear all pretty and overstimulated while you play on your phone or read or book and he's trying to keep still because the point wasn't to keep having sex it was to just enjoy feeling connected to you but God it's so HOT he can't believe you let him inside your body ALL THE TIME!! WHENEVER HE WANTS???? his whole body burns and tingles with literal warmth but also love and some embarrassment at working himself up so much. He's blushing and squirming and there always comes a point where he can't take it anymore and he presses you down into the bed and fucks you. He can be rough sometimes, especially if he isn't focusing on keeping his tiger abilities under wraps, but you swear to him you think it's hot for him to manhandle you and hold you down and fuck the shit out of you. It often takes some convincing to get him to let himself go and actually do it. 

Chuuya

A GENTLEMAN you cannot tell me he isn't a great boyfriend

Chuuya is amazing at compartmentalizing. There's a chance you don't even know he's in the Port Mafia when you start dating him. He's just a tough punk guy who holds the door open for you and brings you huge, BEAUTIFUL bouquets every time he sees you, and says sweet nothings to you when you're alone. 

Eventually you ask him where he works in an incredibly casual way because you expect it's something like a garage or a business office, but when he kinda clams up and asks "you don't know?" you give him a confused look and he gets NERVOUS. He doesn't want you to leave him, he's so worried all of a sudden realizing that you don't KNOW what he does and how you're in danger just for being associated with him. 

He finally tells you and swears that you're safe, he'll always protect you, and so will his connections. You honestly have to take a minute to think about it but then you nod and say it's fine, you've always felt safe with him and you didn't know before so you'll just keep pretending you don't know. "Just please don't tell me any of the details, I don't want to know."

When Chuuya leaves for long missions he texts and calls you almost every night from random phone numbers (some public phones, some burner phones). He always lets you know he's okay and tells you how much he misses you. He's not afraid of a bit of dirty talk and sending some spicy pictures when he's able to have a phone somewhere in private 🥵

Speaking of sex, he's very adventurous. He'll fuck you anywhere, any time. He always thinks you look good no matter what, but when you look ESPECIALLY good like when you wear his favorite color with your hair pulled away from your face, god he can't keep his hands off you. You could be walking through a grocery store and he'd be pressing you against a shelf and muttering in your ear how he could take you right here and no one would dare stop him. He also likes to hold you up when you fuck, doesn't matter if you have something to lean on or how much you weigh (I hc Chuuya LOVES big women and thinks anyone who doesn't is a coward). Chuuya can manipulate gravity, he's holding you every which way and getting the exact angle he wants. 

[berryispunk]

Where You Left Me

tags: soft! Frankie, addiction , drug usage (not detailed), heavy inner turmoil, struggling Frankie, angst, second chances, some mentions of trauma

summary: Frankie went through hell and back to find his light.

word count: ~ 2,4 k

notes: If themes like this make you uncomfortable, please don't read!!

Cravings are dangerous. They don’t ever really go away—they just linger. In the dark corners of your mind you can’t control. Always there, just behind your teeth, close enough to taste but always out of reach.

People say getting sober is the hardest part. That’s a lie. The hardest part is staying clean.

It’s not the vomiting or the shakes. Not even the nightmares. It’s the silence after—the weeks, the months. The long, restless nights when you’re still awake at 3AM, again, because sleep doesn’t come easy anymore. Not when your brain won’t shut up, when it’s whispering just one line will fix it.

You know it’s a lie. It always was.

But then she showed up. And somehow, in the middle of all that noise, he found quiet. Found her. Like gravity shifted and he was suddenly caught in her orbit, too busy loving her, worshipping her, giving her the world to think about anything else. The voice got smaller. Weaker. He almost forgot he was a recovering addict. Until he wasn’t anymore.

It crept in quietly, clawing its way from the depths of his subconscious to the front of his mind. At first, it struck like lightning—there and gone in a blink. Until it wasn’t anymore.

He couldn’t tell her. He wasn’t strong enough to see that worry in her eyes, not when she meant it. And she would—of course she would. That only made it worse.

He tried to keep busy. Long walks. Late jogs. Nights out with the boys. The TV always on, volume up. Noise helped. But nothing compared to her. The way she curled into his side after a long day—after he'd spent hours fighting his own thoughts—was the closest he’d ever come to peace. Still, it lingered.

Quiet, relentless, ugly.

His leg started to bounce when things got too still. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t track simple conversations. And of course, she noticed. She always did.

She asked gently, the way she always asked—soft, never pressing. But he shrugged it off every time. I’m fine. Just tired. Just stressed. She was light. Blinding, golden. And he didn’t want his darkness anywhere near her.

He told himself it would pass. That if he just held on a little longer, it’d quiet again. He’d quiet again. So he distracted himself with plans, promises, a future he was desperate to believe in.

They went away together, just the two of them. Somewhere slow, warm, quiet—the kind of place where people smile at strangers and the air smells like salt and sun. She wore her hair loose, laughed louder, slept curled into his chest—it felt like heaven to him. And in a moment that felt too perfect to be real, he got down on one knee and asked her to marry him. She cried and said yes. He kissed her like she was the answer to everything.

For a few weeks, she was.

There was peace in the planning, in the hope. In calling her fiancée. In watching her hold up swatches and talk about table settings and cake flavors. She was golden in those moments—pure joy. And he tried, God he tried, to believe he was worthy of it. Of her. But the quiet didn’t last.

The pressure started building again. Subtle at first. A forgotten appointment here, a missed call there. Sleepless nights. Shaky hands. That old itch crawling back under his skin, rearing its ugly head in every moment she wasn’t around—in the silence, in the stillness, in the hours he was left alone with himself, the monster in his head, and the ache in his bones.

He started using again before he even fully admitted it to himself. Just once, then again. And again. A slow unraveling.

The high was never worth the fall—and it sure as hell wasn’t worth risking the life he’d wanted for so long. But he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t help it. He was too weak. Too fragile in all the wrong ways.

There was a time he wore a uniform, stood tall, was someone people looked up to. But now, when he looked in the mirror, it felt like another life. Another version of him entirely. Even if that life—the military, the things he saw, the things he did—was the reason he started using in the first place.

Because the nightmares were too big. The kind that yanked him out of sleep drenched in sweat, hands trembling. The kind that dragged him under until he drowned in silent tears he never let anyone see. The coke helped.

It quieted the voices. Made the nightmares go away, even if only for a while. A hazed brain worked differently. Softer around the edges. Like walking on clouds. And when he was high, he felt invincible. Unstoppable. The version of himself he never was sober. So he held onto it—longer than he should’ve.

And when he finally got clean, it was harder than pulling the trigger in a war zone halfway across the world. Getting clean was a different kind of battlefield. One where the only enemy was himself and all the fractured versions of who he used to be.

She made the war feel winnable. With her steady hands and glimmering eyes, with the way she looked at him like he was already whole. Like she believed in a version of him he hadn’t even met yet.

For a while, that was enough. Until it wasn’t.

The night of his bachelor party, it all came crashing down.

Too many people, too many jokes. Too many voices he couldn’t hear over the noise in his own head. It felt like the walls were closing in, suffocating him. So he left, didn’t say a word. Just walked out.

He found her at her own celebration across town, radiant in a glittering dress, surrounded by friends, happiness wrapped around her like a halo—until she saw him. And just like that, her smile fell. She crossed the room fast, eyes searching, voice low.

“Frankie? What’s wrong?”

He asked if they could talk, and the worry in her eyes gutted him.

They found a quiet corner. His hands trembled as he told her. Everything. That he’d relapsed. That it had been going on for weeks. That he didn’t tell her because he couldn’t stand the thought of seeing disappointment in her face. Couldn’t stand the thought of losing her.

She was quiet for a long time—longer than he could bear. The silence was deafening, louder than any scream. It made his skin crawl, sweat bead at the back of his neck. He’d fought battles. Faced men with guns and the monsters that didn’t carry weapons. But this—her, just looking at him without saying a word—was worse than all of it. Worse than every moment in his life he ever regretted.

When she finally spoke, her voice cracked.

“I’m not angry you slipped. I’m angry you didn’t tell me before it was too late. Before we got this far. Before you asked me to spend my life with you when you weren’t even being honest with me—or yourself.”

He tried to explain. Tried to fix it with rushed words and broken, empty apologies. But she just shook her head, eyes glassy from unshed tears.

“You were supposed to trust me, Frankie.”

They fought. It was ugly. Loud, brutal, raw. All emotions on display. He’s known her for years, but he never saw her that angry. He deserved it all.

When every word had been torn apart, when the air was thick with nothing left but rage and regret, she ripped the ring from her finger. Threw it into his palm. And walked away.

—

The day of the wedding felt like an ache neither of them could shake.

He was restless. Laying in the sterile quiet of rehab, staring at the white walls that had become a prison. The days stretched, endless, as he wrestled with the promise of redemption he was no closer to reaching. His body ached from the withdrawal, but the deeper ache was the one inside. The one that had nothing to do with his recovery and everything to do with the person who wasn’t there.

She was restless too. She moved through the motions of the day, surrounded by friends, family, all the plans and people who had once been part of a future she thought she'd have. But the what-ifs tore at her—each one sharp, each one dragging her deeper into the hollow of a life that could have been. The pain was too much to bear, too thick in her chest.

He sat there first, his fingers tracing the little carved heart on the bench, the grooves worn smooth by time, but still faintly visible. It had been three months after they’d gotten together—something small, a gesture to mark the beginning of what he thought would be forever. The carving wasn’t perfect, rough around the edges like the careless way he’d done it, but it had been his. It had been their thing, this bench, this place where everything had once felt real.

His fingers lingered there, the cool wood pressing against his skin, and for a moment, it felt like he could still feel her beside him, the warmth of her hand in his, the sound of her laughter filling the air. The ache in his chest was sudden, overwhelming. God, it hurt. To trace something that was meant to stand for something good, now just a mark of everything he had failed to protect.

He pulled his hand away slowly, eyes locked on the bench as if he could will himself to turn back time. But the weight of it all crushed down on him, suffocating in its finality.

And then, he looked up.

She was standing there, just beyond the edge of the bench. Her eyes met his, wide and uncertain, as if she had been fighting the urge to walk away the whole time. The air between them felt thick, charged, like a thousand unsaid things hung in the space between them.

She stood still for a long moment, her gaze shifting briefly to the place he had just touched—the heart carved into the wood—before locking back on him.

In that moment, everything felt too much. She wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be here. But somehow, they both were.

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t suffocating anymore. Not like it had been earlier. There was something different now, something fragile and unfiltered but, maybe, a little more honest.

He opened his mouth, but the words were slow, unsure, as if he hadn’t quite figured out how to ask for this. Like he lost his voice.

"Please stay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He swallowed hard. "Let me… let me say it right. Even if it doesn’t change anything. Please, just stay."

She didn’t move. Didn’t look away. Her face softened a little, the sharp edges of anger and hurt blurring just enough. She wanted to pull away. She almost did. But she didn’t.

Instead, she let out a soft laugh, one that was barely there but carried everything they’d lost. And the gray that surrounded them lightened for a moment.

"Well," she said, a teasing glint in her eye, "I guess it’s too late to get married today. What a pity. I loved the venue we chose." Her voice was lighter now, but the edge remained.

He let out a quiet laugh too, something small and self-deprecating. "I don’t need a paper to know I’m yours," he said, his eyes never leaving hers, never needing to look away. "I never did."

And in that instant, it was like everything they had before came rushing back—like it had never really gone anywhere. The moments on their couch, the way she’d always curled into his side, the way he felt whole just by being near her.

She shifted closer on the bench, just a little, as if testing the waters. But then, just like she always did, she cuddled into his side. Her head nestled into his shoulder, her hand resting against his chest, finding the place that had always been hers to hold. His heart picking up speed.

He was so used to it, the ease of it, that it felt like no time had passed at all. His heart swelled with something he hadn’t felt in far too long, like the world finally had color again.

Then his gaze fell to his free hand and he froze. The ring was still there, tucked safely away in his pocket. He hadn’t realized he’d carried it with him this whole time.

He pulled the ring from his pocket, turning it slowly between his fingers.

His gaze stayed on it, but his mind was far away—lost in everything that should’ve been.

She noticed. Of course she did.

"Do you still have it?" she asked, more statement than question.

"All the time," he said softly. "Since… you know."

He exhaled, the words thick in his throat.

"Getting rid of it felt like admitting it was really over. Like I was giving up on us. And I… I just couldn’t."

He hesitated, eyes flicking up to hers.

"I know I should’ve told you. I should’ve trusted you with the truth before everything fell apart. I was scared—of what you’d see in me. Of what I’d lose if I said it out loud. But I never stopped—"

She didn’t let him finish.

Didn’t need to.

She reached out, steady and quiet, holding out her hand.

The same hand he had once slipped that ring onto, kneeling in a sun-warmed haze, believing—with everything in him—that he could give her forever.

And now, after everything, she was giving him a chance.

Even through the ache. Even through the hurt.

His hands trembled slightly as he slid the ring back on her finger, slower this time.

Like he understood the weight of it now.

Like it meant even more—because this time, she’d seen every dark corner of him and still chose to stay.

Then he looked at her, his smile soft, one brow raised—

You sure?

She didn’t answer—not with words.

But he saw it in her eyes, everything she couldn’t say out loud. The ache, the hope, the love still stubbornly burning beneath the bruised parts.

Then she leaned in and kissed him.

Softly, tenderly. Like he might break if she wasn’t careful. And maybe he would’ve.

If he’d really lost her for good.

The world fell quiet around them, just the two of them on that worn-out bench—no music, no speeches, no crowd holding its breath.

Just this. Her hand in his. Her lips on his. The ring back where it belonged.

Next to her, he wasn’t lost. He wasn’t scared.

He just was.

And somehow, it felt more powerful than any wedding they could’ve planned.

Because this wasn’t about perfection.

It was about choosing each other—even after everything.

thanks for reading 💌

main masterlist

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Squeeze Once, Squeeze Twice

Part one of the Uncaged series

Sam and Dean & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you’re selectively mute, but things have gotten a lot worse since hell

Warnings: LOTS of mental trauma, mentions of torture (non graphic), lots of angst, little fluff

A/N: I took some creative liberties with this one, I’ve had this idea in the back of my head forever where the little sister fell into the cage with Sam so I wanted to put it here. Also this is set in season 6 (very loosely following the plot)

A/N 2: ok so this story took on a whole life of its own, it’s gonna jump around a bit but I think I did it in a coherent way, I hope you guys like this one because I really liked the concept 💜

You’d never been very talkative, even as a little kid. You could go days without ever uttering a word, and you never spoke to someone unless you were comfortable around them—which basically meant you’d only talked to Sam and Dean. However, you used to make exceptions—John, Bobby, Ellen, Joe, and a handful of others.

You didn’t do that anymore.

In fact, you hadn’t even talked to your brothers since hell.

Dean had been hovering over you since Death got you out, worried about how silent you’d been. He’d gotten used to how little you talked, but now it felt like you might never speak again.

He wished Death could’ve done for you what he had for Sam—put your memories of the cage behind a wall—but he’d said it was different; Sam’s body had been separate from his soul, so the memories had a disconnect, but you’d been in hell the whole time.

“Hey kiddo,” Dean spoke softly, but you flinched anyway. “We’re at Bobby’s.” He eased the Impala to a stop and turned around to look at you. “You, um…” Dean swallowed. “You remember Bobby, right?”

Dean had no idea how this hell thing worked—Sam didn’t remember, and you didn’t speak—but if it was anything like his time in hell, you must’ve felt like you were in there for over 100 years.

You just stared at Dean, and not for the first time he wondered if you even remembered English. What if Lucifer and Michael spoke so much Enochian over the past hundred years that you didn’t even remember how to speak? Was he doomed to be unable to communicate with you at all?

He was so distracted by his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice you reaching over the seat and grabbing hold of his wallet.

“Bobby.” Your voice got his attention. He whipped his head around to see you holding up a group photo he kept in his wallet. You were pointing at Bobby. “Bobby,” you repeated, the ghost of a smile twitching at the edge of your lips.

“Yeah.” Dean grinned. “Yeah, that’s Bobby.”

“Let’s get going,” Sam cut in, stepping out of the Impala. You got out quickly, trailing right behind Sam. Things had been strange between you and Sam; awkward. You had obviously formed some kind of severe trauma bond with Sam during your time in hell, but Sam didn’t remember anything that happened in the cage, so he didn’t understand the bond.

“You ok?” Sam asked you as he led the way towards Bobby’s porch. In answer, you reached your hand forward and grabbed his, squeezing it twice.

He didn’t even notice, too intent on waiting to hear you speak.

“Are you ok?” He asked again, softer, as if pleading with you to answer. You squeezed his hand twice again, and this time he noticed. “Is that supposed to mean something?” He asked, but the front door opening distracted him, so he didn’t see the way your face fell.

“Hey boys,” Bobby greeted as he stepped out onto his porch. “Hey kiddo.” His eyes landed on you, and a big grin broke out on his face. “It’s been a long time.”

Dean was the first to notice the discomfort in your subtle movements when the silence grew out awkwardly.

You felt as though everyone was waiting for you to speak, or at least to hug Bobby, but you hadn’t left Sam’s side.

Dean didn’t understand that, though—he could just tell you were uncomfortable. “You remember him, don’t you?” He asked.

“Hey,” Sam spoke softly, and you turned to look at him. He’d noticed the way your hand gripped his tightly, and the way you were leaning towards him and glancing at him. “I’ll go over there with you, if you wanna say hi. I’m right here with you.”

Your hand squeezed his twice, and Sam took that as an invitation to lead you up onto Bobby’s porch.

“Hey Bobby,” he said, releasing your hand for a moment to greet Bobby with a hug.

“It’s good to see you in one piece.” Bobby patted Sam on the back before both men pulled away. You looked up at Sam, and his tiny nod was all the reassurance you needed. You all but jumped into Bobby’s arms, and he chuckled and held you close. “Hey there. I’ve missed you around here.” Bobby pulled away, turning his attention to the boys. “We’ve got some work to do.”

…

Dean couldn’t get you to leave Sam’s side.

“Kid, we need all the help we can get with this,” Dean coaxed. “Sam’s gonna wake up, but…but we can’t wait any longer. We’re out of time. Cas and Crowley are on the move now, we’ve gotta go.”

It was like you couldn’t even hear him. You kept Sam’s hand gripped tightly in yours and you wouldn’t take your eyes off him.

“Kid—“

You looked around suddenly, as if making sure no one else was in the room.

“He remembers.” Dean stopped speaking when he heard your words. “When he wakes up, he’ll remember hell. I can’t leave him alone.”

“I get it, ok,” Dean said. “I know you guys went through all that torture together. But right now I need you, kid. Me and Bobby, we need you.“

You were quiet for a long moment, looking from Sam to Dean.

“Is Cas bad now?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“I…” Dean’s voice cracked. “I don’t know, kid.”

“I wouldn’t wish those memories of hell on anyone,” you whimpered. “And Cas, he…he made Sammy remember everything.”

“Hey.” Dean put a hand on your shoulder, trying to ignore the way you flinched before you relaxed. “We’re gonna fix this. We’re gonna get Cas back, and he’s gonna fix Sam.”

You didn’t speak again. Instead, you stood from your spot by Sam and took the gun Dean was holding out for you, leading the way out the door.

…

It was all going wrong, and you couldn’t even get to Sam. He’d shown up halfway through the fight, but Cas was blocking your way to him and Dean wouldn’t let go of your arm.

Sam was swaying on his feet, an exhaustion you recognized all too well. But there was a confusion in his eyes too, like he couldn’t quite put together the hundred plus years of memories that were bombarding him.

You wanted nothing more than to go to him, and Dean’s hand holding you back was killing you.

It was also bringing back memories of things you would rather forget…

Lucifer was torturing Sam again. You couldn’t force yourself to look this time—you didn’t want to know. You were tired of seeing it. And you were scared; you were always so scared.

But you did try to go to him. Over and over, every time Sam screamed in pain, you tried to go to him, but every time Lucifer used his grace to slam you back against the metal bars of the cage. It used to hurt—sometimes he would slam you so hard that something would break—but you were so used to pain that you could barely feel the little things anymore.

You were whimpering as you tried futilely to fight off the grace. You wanted to call out to Sam, but you couldn’t get your mouth to form around the words—you’d been too scared to speak for what felt like decades.

“You’re done!” Lucifer announced cheerily, wiping blood off his hands and turning away from Sam, who was curled in on himself in the corner of the cage. You couldn’t tell where the blood and beaten skin ended and the protruding bone began.

You tried again to go to your hurting big brother, but Lucifer slammed you back down again.

“I said he was done; now it’s your turn, little thing.”

“Not doing so well, are you Sam?” Castiel’s condescending voice as he turned to Sam brought you back to the moment.

“I’m fine,” Sam lied, swallowing hard and glancing at Dean. “I’m fine.” He didn’t direct it at you—the two of you had made a pact decades ago in the cage that you would never lie to each other. Not that Dean believed Sam, anyway.

“You said you would fix him, you promised!” Dean thundered, and you flinched.

“IF—“ Castiel cut in. “You stood down, which you hardly did.” Dean and Cas were having a stare-off, Dean unable to believe Cas’s betrayal. But you couldn’t take your eyes off Sam.

“Be thankful for my mercy,” Cas directed at Sam. “I could’ve cast you back in the pit.” His eyes on you finally pulled your attention from Sam, and the coldness you saw there had you shivering, suddenly thankful for Dean’s hand on your arm—a reminder that he was there. “Both of you,” Cas added.

“Cas, c’mon, this is nuts!” Dean was saying, but you couldn’t listen anymore. The fear in Sam’s eyes at Cas’s words had you more desperate than ever, and with Dean distracted you had a chance.

You broke free of Dean’s hold and made a run for Sam. You passed directly in front of Cas, and you saw his eyes flash in anger and surprise, raising a hand—whether to hit you or smite your or blast you away, you had no idea—but he held it there, waiting to see what foolish move you were making.

You reached Sam unscathed and grabbed hold of his arm, your fingers seeking out his hand. Once his giant hand was around yours, you squeezed his hand twice.

Some of the confusion in Sam’s eyes faded, and his eyes met yours with a horror that you’d gotten used to seeing.

…

Your hand squeezing Sam’s seemed to knock around some of his jumbled memories in the right order, and suddenly he was able to grab onto a single memory.

Lucifer was torturing you. After months—or years, Sam couldn’t tell anymore—of being too petrified to speak, you had finally gotten up the courage to have a whispered conversation with Sam while Lucifer was yelling at Michael about something.

The worst part was, Sam couldn’t remember what the two of you had said—all he knew is that eventually Lucifer picked up on the quiet conversation, and he had decided that “the trash was making too much noise.”

He had grabbed you by the neck—you were already a whimpering mess by the time he reached you, because you were well acquainted with the fact that Lucifer’s attention on you meant pain—and Sam had tried to stop him, tried to convince Lucifer that it was Sam’s fault, not yours, that his conversation had been interrupted.

Lucifer didn’t listen—he never did. He’d selected his victim, and he never changed his mind.

When Lucifer finally finished with you, he’d thrown you against the wall by Sam. Sam crawled over to you, careful not to make any noise.

He couldn’t ask if you were ok; he knew the answer anyway. The two of you were too scared to make any noise at all. So instead, Sam reached out his hand and wrapped it around yours, squeezing once—not too hard. The two of you needed gentle touches. Your tearful eyes met his, and he felt it; two squeezes—your response to him.

It didn’t really have one meaning; it wasn’t an “I’m fine” or “you’re ok” or even an “I’m here for you” or “things will get better.” The two of you knew you weren’t fine, you knew it would never get better in the cage, and you knew you had no choice but to be there together. But it was grounding; it was reassuring, it was whatever you needed it to be. It was “I know it hurts,” it was “I love you,” it was “I feel your pain,” it was “I’m sorry,” it was “no matter what, we go through this pain together.”

And that became your new language.

Sam blinked, bringing himself back to the moment. Your hand was still in his, and you were staring up at him, completely ignoring Castiel’s icy gaze as you waited for Sam to gather his thoughts. He looked down at your little hand gripped in his.

And he squeezed it back gently.

“You’re brave for someone too scared to speak,” Castiel cut in.

Sam’s eyes flashed to Cas. He seemed to debate within himself before speaking. “Leave her alone!”

You recognized the fear in his eyes—standing up for each other had turned out painful in the past; but Cas wasn’t like Lucifer. You hoped.

“I hope for your sake,” Cas began, turning his attention back to Dean, seeming to ignore Sam’s words. “That you never see me again.”

And he was gone.

“Hey.” Dean was by Sam’s side in an instant. “You ok?”

“I’m fine,” Sam lied again. “So um…what now?”

…

The four of you went back to Bobby’s to “regroup,” as if there was anything you could do to stop Cas.

“You two need to get some sleep,” Dean directed to you and Sam. “You guys look like crap.”

You met Sam’s eye, and he looked just as wary as you.

“What?” Dean demanded. “You guys look like you’re having a psychic conversation. I know something’s wrong, I’m not blind.”

“Nothing,” Sam mumbled. “It’s nothing.” He couldn’t tell Dean. He couldn’t talk about it. Neither of you were able to think about sleep without thinking about the countless times that you’d been woken up by unspeakable torture over the last hundred years. You couldn’t even remember the last time you fell asleep that wasn’t just you collapsing from exhaustion despite your fight to stay awake, and it always ended the same way; vulnerability was met with punishment.

“Alright then.” Dean looked annoyed, but he dropped it. “Well, I’m hittin the hey. Goodnight.”

Once Dean was gone, Sam and you just looked at each other.

“We’re safe now,” Sam began slowly. “I…I guess we should try—“

“I don’t wanna be alone,” you whimpered, coming closer to Sam.

“Hey, hey.” Sam grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze, but you didn’t squeeze back yet. “I’m not gonna leave you alone. We can share Bobby’s guest room, ok?”

You just looked up at Sam, opening your mouth, then closing it.

“I know you don’t think you can sleep,” Sam said, reading your eyes. “I…I don’t think I can either. But we gotta try to…to go back to normal.”

“I don’t…” you swallowed. “I can’t—“

“I know,” Sam sighed. “I don’t think I know what normal is anymore either. But let’s figure it out together, ok?”

You nodded firmly and looked down at your hand in Sam’s.

And squeezed it twice.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

[beomiracles]

darkish thought because I love mentally ill love yandere horror tropes and beomgyu, so why not put two and two together?! >3< (fyi this is my first time writing lols..)

imagine beomgyu as the quiet, intimidating kid at school. no one dared to approach him because he just gave off this unsettling vibe—except for y/n, who was always so cheerful and saw the good in everything. beomgyu didn’t understand how someone like her could exist, so pure, so sweet. it frustrated him. it consumed him. he wanted to be the one to destroy her innocence, to ruin her from the inside out. his obsession spiraled until he couldn’t take it anymore, so much so that one day he snapped and ended up kidnapping her, having her all to himself, to do as he pleased. <3

y/n woke up in his basement, tied up, blindfolded, and gagged, completely at his mercy. if feeling the tip of a knife gliding down y/n's trembling bare thighs wasn’t enough, her heart completely dropped when she heard that all-too-familiar voice.

"dumb girl~ haven’t you learned not to trust everyone?" beomgyu chuckles darkly, almost mocking. "lucky for me though..." he let the blade glide further up, earning a muffled squeak from her as it grazed against her most sensitive spot ''..now you’re right where i wanted"

you cappin, ain't no way this is your first time writing gawd lawd.. I mean you've basically done all the work here, but I shall indulge nonetheless.

tw, kidnapping, beomgyu is very unstable but what's new in these thoughts, use of knife, implied violence and blunt force trauma, nonconsensual bondage, hints at further sexual advances

the weird kid of class D, that's what they called him. with long and dark hair, shielding his sickeningly pale face. his hunched posture and strange attire making him a laughing stock all around school. ― still, people knew to stay out of Beomgyu's way. it was kind of common sense by now, for all except one.

you didn't think beomgyu was much different from anyone else. perhaps it was why you'd joined him in the cafeteria that day; your tray nudging his as you squeezed in next to him with a wide grin. ― it doesn't bother you when he ignores your advances, when he turns away and mutters a few curses under his breath.

your persistence doesn't waver, and soon you find yourself by his more than your own friends. and even though he rarely talks to you, or even pays your presence any mind, he doesn't make a move to shake you off.

naive as you were, you thought that beomgyu only needed an opportunity, a chance to show his worth. you feel almost heroic when you think about the fact that you were the one presenting him with it.

had you if only once stopped to look around, to see what was actually happening around you, maybe then you would've noticed how everyone else seem to draw back whenever you walked alongside him. perhaps then you would've caught their hesitant faces and worried glances.

"will you come to my house this Friday?"

you had practically squealed when he first asked. excitedly jumping up and down as you accept his invite. ― this was it, you were finally breaking through his thick shell. weeks worth of effort finally paying off !

it did not feel rewarding to wake up cold and confused in complete darkness. in fact it felt utterly terrifying. frantically your head jerks from side to side, unable to see through the thick blindfold that covered your wet eyes.

with your wrists bound behind your back, the ropes around your skin burned as they tightened with each tug you gave. your ankles felt sore, bloody like someone had beaten them, they, too, were tied. ― something large and round keeps your jaw locked in an uncomfortable position, drool running down your chin as you struggle to speak.

footsteps echo in the dark and you emit a muffled scream as you try to retreat. the failed attempt at fleeing merely ends with your barely dressed body pressed against a cold stone wall. ― with your breath caught in your throat you listen as someone approaches, the presence looming before you as it exhales a deep breath, sounding almost like a hum.

"look at you.." the voice speaks, it's dark and menacing, upholding a mocking tone. your blood runs cold as you recognise it. beomgyu. but that didn't make any sense why was he... when did this..

your whiny protests come out as incoherent nonsense around the gag and beomgyu chuckles, it's sinister rumble echoing against the four walls of his basement. ― "dumb girl~ haven’t you learned not to trust everyone?" he's crouched down before you now, you can feel his warm breath on your face, it makes you recoil.

Beomgyu's fingers are harsh and unforgiving as they seal around your arm, keeping you in place. "lucky for me though..." he drawls, pausing to listen to the hitch of your breath as something cold comes in contact with your tender flesh. a knife.

''..now you’re right where i wanted"

the knife glides along the inner part of your thigh, it's pointy edge poking at your soft skin and you whimper as you shake your head. beomgyu lets out a short breath, like he wasn't believing his own eyes, and with one flick off the knife he cuts your panties in half.

"don't worry", he quickly shushes your scream with false sympathy, "if you promise not to scream, I'll go easy on you"

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

Watching that sneak peek of the next episode had me rolling my eyes at Shauna just being able to grab the gun from Nat like that. As if Nat wouldn't be on her guard and put up a fight. I feel in general there are too many moments for me this season where I just feel like Nat would've made a much bigger fuss than she has (for example the trial), but we're kinda meant to suspend belief in order to get Shauna's influence and domination over the group from point A to point B. At times it kinda feels like Shauna's the only one with a really solid arc and characterization this season, while the others are a bit of a let down from the last season. They're kinda being written around her stuff, which I understand she's the main character, but I felt like last season did a stronger job balancing everything. Now it feels like she's the only one allowed to move things forward. What do you think?? Also, i'm not sure if it was you or someone else that mentioned Soapy saying in an interview that Natalie will get to rage at one point in the season. Gotta be after their hope of rescue gets crushed.

Hi thanks for the interesting ask!! I have so much to say so apologies this is probably going to be long.

I completely agree that it’s been frustrating to watch Shauna take control with seemingly little resistance from Natalie. That moment in the promo where Shauna easily takes Nat’s gun had me raising an eyebrow—I definitely think there should have been more of a struggle. Even a brief fight before Shauna wrestled it away could have added more tension. Similarly, I feel like Nat could have pushed back harder during the trial deliberation, especially after Shauna blatantly intimidated the others into changing their votes.

However (and I’ve touched on this before), I do think it’s important to consider how Natalie’s home environment shaped her response in these situations. She spent 15 years cornered in that tiny trailer with an unpredictable, abusive father. I can’t stop thinking about Shauna’s line after Nat’s funeral— “It’s a miracle she survived before, you know, we survived”— which really speaks to how dangerous Nat’s childhood was. In that household, survival meant keeping her head down and staying passive. That kind of survival mindset doesn’t just disappear; it’s deeply ingrained and extremely difficult to shake. So when Nat finds herself in yet another life-threatening, dangerous environment, it makes sense that those old trauma responses would resurface.

Nat’s father controlled her through intimidation and humiliation—exactly the tactics Shauna is using to control the group now. Even in the brief scene we get of Nat’s father, we see the power dynamic at play. He towers over her, corners her, screams at her, and degrades her—calling her a slut, useless, worthless, stupid. That humiliation piece is crucial. I’m reminded of this line in the 1x04 script:

A lifetime’s worth of humiliation and rage that she’s been holding in. I’m sure he’s been telling her that she’s worth nothing for her entire life, and there’s no doubt in my mind that she has internalized that and truly believes it even now. Nat acts tough, cool, and confident, but she is deeply insecure, self-loathing, and wounded at her core. That’s why she’s so uncomfortable in a leadership role—even though she’s really good at it, she doesn’t believe she’s suited for power because she was raised to believe she’s inferior.

Meanwhile, Shauna is fucking terrifying right now. We’ve seen what she’s capable of, and her intimidation is controlling the entire group. The way she interacts with Natalie this season mirrors Nat’s father (though without the blatant physical abuse). She gets in Nat’s face, raises her voice, threatens physical violence, and humiliates her—most notably when she makes a public spectacle of forcing her to butcher Coach Ben.

Nat is clearly trying to stand up to Shauna, but there’s not a lot she can do even if she wasn’t battling these deeply ingrained childhood patterns. And I don’t think she has enough self worth to truly stand up for herself, I think part of her must wonder if Shauna is right about her.

And, to be honest, Nat is soft. As her dad said, she cried when she killed a turkey. She feels things deeply and has a deep compassion for others. She’s actually quite gentle (for someone who has killed and eaten people). She only attacks when cornered. Part of me wonders if this is in response to her father, trying her best to be nothing like him or to avoid contuining his legacy of violence. So it also makes sense to me when Nat struggles— or refuses— to match Shauna’s ferocity.

But yes, I do think we’re going to see Nat finally snap and release all of that deeply held rage at the end of this season. I am so excited to see it and it is so deserved. Notably, the script for 1x04 mentions (twice) Natalie’s rage, which eventually becomes so strong that she can’t contain it anymore and she snaps:

This outburst results in her father’s death. I absolutely think that this thwarted rescue will be Nat’s last straw and we will see her finally snap. Angry Nat is coming, don’t worry! But it will likely come with consequences, just as it did with her dad. The synopsis for 3x10 reads “Natalie tries living life on the edge” which has me very intrigued, and scared for her.

—

Side note: And, about the scene where Shauna takes the gun from Nat, is there a parallel here, or am I crazy and reading way to much into things? Probably the latter but I still think this is interesting:

[erimeows]

TFA Characters' Toxic Traits

Me with another TFA headcanon set? Who would've guessed. Got the inspiration for this one after realizing I'd done it with MysMes but not with Transformers. Enjoy!

Optimus Prime: Shoulders every single burden all by himself. Will not ask for help and open up to others when needed, even though not doing so ends up negatively impacting everyone more in the end than asking for help would've.

Bumblebee: Toxic positivity- enough said. You vent to him and he's like "oh but you have so much to be happy about!".

Bulkhead: Will not take sides in any conflict of his own accord even if he knows that one side is "right" if he fears it will upset any of his friends. Passively steps out of conflicts even when he's needed, unless it's an absolute emergency.

Ratchet: Refuses to open up about trauma that he has even though it affects the way he acts and negatively impacts the people around him, who are very confused as to why he acts the way he does.

Prowl: Has an ungodly superiority complex, tends to think he's better or smarter than others (even when he's not), though he's trying to work on that.

Sentinel Prime: I think we saw in the show, but he's very prideful and will never admit that he's wrong in any situation. Also terrible at offering genuine apologies- more of a sarcastic "I'm sorry you feel that way" than a genuine "I'm sorry I did (x)" kind of guy.

Jazz: Gets uncomfortable when things get too serious to the point that if people try to open up to him about something deep, he will change the subject or deflect them 90% of the time.

Ultra Magnus: Too by the book. Will do things that he doesn't believe in or ignore wrong doings for the sake of legality.

Megatron: Very selfish and very charming, which is a bad combo. Similar to Starscream, he will be nice to your face if needed and then screw you over in the end as long as it benefits him.

Starscream: So many, but the worst one is lying to people's face and then talking shit behind their backs or doing them wrong for his own benefit.

Blitzwing: Depends on which of the three personalities you're dealing with because they all have some pretty over the top toxic traits, but the worst and most prevalent one is that all three of them tend to belittle others to feel better about themselves- especially if their life is going bad or if they're feeling insecure about something in particular.

Lugnut: The Megatron obsession, obviously. It gets to the point that anyone and anything else in his life that should be prioritized get(s) pushed to the side for Megatron's sake when Megatron doesn't value him nearly as much.

Blackarachnia: Very vengeful and obsessive about getting revenge to the point that it's unhealthy. Obviously this is seen in her TFA episodes where she wants revenge on Optimus/Sentinel for what happened when they were in school- but those emotions are over a huge tragedy that happened in her life and are almost understandable. This toxic trait also applies to, say, someone who accidentally shoulder checked her or took her lunch from the staff fridge. If you wrong her in the slightest, she will make sure she has revenge, even if it was a genuine mistake.

Lockdown: Can't handle commitment. He's not scared of it, just not emotionally mature enough. Whether it be a job, a friendship, a romantic relationship, or whatever else, he won't commit. He doesn't care whose feelings it hurts or if he's passing up on something genuinely good for himself either.

Swindle: Also can't handle commitment, but I'd argue that his worst toxic trait is actually his concern for money. He's terrified of being broke to the point that it consumes his every waking minute. Sure, he enjoys the swindling, but if he misses out on money he panics and he will go to ridiculous lengths to get a good deal or to rip someone off.

[kyehwas]

𝖎'𝖒 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘 🎄 s.coups x reader

for: @cxffecoupx (I was ur secret santa ehe ;3)

warnings : kys jokes, enemies to lovers, roommates to lovers, i project my student council election trauma on yn, I also don't know what both college and snow are like, making out but nothing further

wc: 1.6k + 0.3k epilogue ; 1.9k total ♡

It hasn't even been a month in of your second year of college and you were already about to kill yourself.

Why exactly? Because you and your roommate, who had grown to be one of your best friends, have to leave the dorms and be separated.

“What do you mean I need to move dorms? What's wrong with this one?” You complained to your RA.

“Sorry y/n, but your dorm has a high chance of having a mold infestation, we're going to need to get mold remediation.” The RA answers with the most bullshittiest reason you could think of. Why would there be mold in your dorm? 

Okay, maybe your roommate forgot to throw away the expired cheese that's been in your fridge since last school year, but still! It was complete bullshit!

What was worse than that was that your new roommate was none other than the student council president himself, Choi Seungcheol.

If it was just any ordinary student council president, you wouldn't mind that much. But this was the guy who you ran against and lost to. By a lot. This was like rubbing salt in a reopened wound to you.

“You're y/n, yeah?” He asks as if he doesn't remember who you are once you appear on his doorstep with all of your stuff.

“Yeah. Guess we're roommates now.” He takes a few steps from the doorway, allowing you to enter.

“Mhm, guess we are,” Seungcheol carries some of your bags in the dorm for you, a kind gesture for someone like him.

“Say, Seungcheol, how's student council treating you? Would've been better with me in it.” 

His eyes narrow at your remark. “Being student council president is really fun, actually! Everyone loves me, maybe that's why I won the elections,” He taunts, a wide smirk on his face.

“Whatever, Seungcheol,” You snap, giving up on the battle you started. “Where's my room?”

“Are you usually this much of an ass? You should be lucky I offered to take you in, otherwise you'd be on the streets.” Seungcheol guides you to your room, which is also… his room? “I only have one bedroom. I wasn't expecting to get a roommate, I'll sleep on the floor.”

“I don't need your pity, I'll sleep on the floor. At least until we get a new bed.” You sit yourself down on the carpet of your new bedroom. 

You look around, and it's a pretty normal bedroom. It's decorated with some posters of bands and pictures of him and his friends, but it’s not overly decorated to the point where it's cluttered.

“This bed is uncomfortable anyways, I think you should sleep on it,” Before you could respond, Seungcheol picked you up and threw you on the bed. You bounced up a little from the impact, and Seungcheol took your place on the floor.

“I despise you.”

“The feeling's mutual, y/n. Now, what do you want for dinner?”

You were going to strangle this bitch.

Months had passed since you started living with Seungcheol, and the atmosphere was still thick (though not as tense as before) with you two. 

It wasn't as bad as before, though. The two of you found a routine and stuck to it. You two would stay away from each other, only talking when necessary. 

It felt a little odd though, seeing Seungcheol in such a domestic light. He was sort of attractive while making dinner, a silly thought in the back of your head that you'd only keep to yourself.

The air has been getting colder lately, and the snowflakes whirling to the ground, covering the once green grass in a thick sheet of white.

“The snow is nice, isn't it?” Your roommate asks, appearing by your side completely out of the blue. You perk up and turn your head to him. Though he was talking about how nice the snow was, he was looking directly at you.

“Yeah, it's pretty,” You awkwardly reply. “Are you going back home for the holidays?”

“I'd love to, but can't. You?”

“I am, it'll be a nice break, two weeks without you.” As if the world hated you, your phone dinged. You checked the notification and your smile dropped. “My flight back literally got canceled.”

“Karma's a bitch,” He says, but takes it back once he sees the sad expression on your face. “Sorry. I guess you're staying here?”

You sigh, “Yeah, I guess so. It's going to be snowing a lot today, weather told me there would be at least 20 centimeters of snow today.”

“So we can't go outside either. Meaning I'm stuck with you inside the house.” Seungcheol's conclusion was your worst nightmare. Being stuck at home alone with him for two long, long weeks. “The snowfall is getting more intense.” 

You look outside the frosted window, the trees dancing in the heavy winds. 

Then, an odd sound from somewhere in the house. “I'll go check it out.” Seungcheol offers, and comes back a minute later with a frown.

“What was it?” You start biting the inside of your cheek anxiously.

“Our heater broke.” He states. “I'll tell the RA and ask them to fix it.” 

“What do we do in the meantime? Oh god, I hate this, why did I have to move out that day..?” You pace back and forth around the living room, but you're suddenly stopped by Seungcheol's hand on your shoulder.

“Y/n. We're going to figure this out, okay? I just texted the RA and I'm waiting for a response. Go get all the blankets from our room, ‘kay?” The way he ordered you around was kind of hot though you'd rather die than tell him that.

You gathered all the blankets from the bedroom and threw them down on the floor. “Now what?”

 Seungcheol organizes the blankets so they're all in a neat stack and lifts them up for you. “Get in the blankets, and we'll huddle together for warmth.”

“I am not going close to you.”

“Do you want to die?” You don't say anything and just crawl in the pile, Seungcheol following after.

You lean to your side, resting your head on his shoulder. “You're warm…”

“Weren't you complaining about this a second ago?” Seungcheol says, but really, he likes the affection you're giving him right now. 

“Shh, you're making me feel colder by yapping,” You wrap your arm around his. 

“Good grief.”

The next few minutes are silent. Then, a few tears start to spill out of your eyes. 

“Hey, why are you crying?” Seungcheol's tone is different from the other times he's talked to you. It's more heartfelt, more sincere. Almost as if he didn't hate you. 

“I don't know,” You sniffle, “A lot has happened in the past few months, huh?”

His arm is now around your shoulder, rubbing your arm up and down in an attempt to soothe you. “Yeah, I know you didn't want this to happen, but-”

“Cheol?” You interrupt him. You move the arm that was wrapped around his to wipe a tear from your cheek.

“Yeah?”

“I think I might like you.” The words come out as a shock to the both of you. Even you hadn't expected yourself to say that.

“That's surprising. Think I might like me too,” Seungcheol deadpans, but the glare he receives from your teary eyes makes him realize: this is serious. You're being serious. “Oh shit, y/n, I like you too. Seriously, I do.”

“For real? I thought you hated me?”

“I thought you hated me?” 

You're about to say something in response, but then it hits you. You did hate him. “I did at first because I was jealous, but then when I moved in with you I started liking you and so I kept covering my feelings up and-”

“Y/n. It's alright.” It's Seungcheol's turn to interrupt. “I get it.” He smiles at you before bringing you into a hug.

“Can we kiss?” You're half-joking, half-serious, but you're really hoping Seungcheol takes it seriously. 

And he does. His lips on yours feels like a dream come true. You can feel his smirk against your lips as he slips his tongue in.

It's messy, a passionate embrace of two lovers, but it's just what you need to warm you up.

Before one of you two could take it further, there's a buzzing from Seungcheol's phone. He ignores it the first and second time, but on the third, he moves his lips and checks his texts.

“It's the RA,” He informs, wiping the mixture of yours and his drool from his mouth, “They're going to come once the snowstorm gets less intense. We still have some time.” He winks at you, butterflies getting sent to your stomach.

For once, you're not mad about it. “Okay then, let me just tell my parents something.” You take your phone out and open the family group chat you have pinned to your contacts.

“Flight got cancelled,” You write, “I won't be coming home for Christmas.” You end the text message with a frowny face before turning your phone on do not disturb. “Now, where were we?”

Maybe being moved to a different dorm was a good thing after all.

“Finally, it's Christmas,” You say, putting the star up on the Christmas tree that you and your roommate (now boyfriend since the events that day) share. “Ta-da! We finished!”

“It looks great, doesn't it?” Seungcheol replies. He's currently holding you up so you can reach the top of the tree. Once he puts you down, both you and him marvel at the sight of the heavily decorated tree.

“Mhm, I got you a present too,” You go over and dig through your bag, handing him a bunny plushie holding a heart. “D'you like it, Cheolie?”

He inspects the cherry red rabbit in his hands, “It's adorable. I got you something too.”

“What is it?” Seungcheol gives you a gift bag in your favorite color, decorated with hearts. 

You open the bag in eagerness, revealing a book you've wanted for ages. “You knew what I wanted? I love you so much,” You thank him, hugging him tightly.

“Of course I remember what you wanted,” Seungcheol gently ruffles your head, “How's your family doing?”

“They're doing good, they really want to meet you,” You tell him, and he grins in response.

“We could do that next break, but let's hope that your flight doesn't get canceled again,” He remarks, laughing at your pouty face, “Even worse if our AC breaks.”

“We wouldn't be able to huddle for warmth like last time though, I'd distance myself from you.” You punch him in the arm. 

He retaliates by putting you in a loose headlock, only letting go once you start frantically apologizing. “No matter the weather, I'd want to stay close to you, cause I love you.”

“How romantic, I love you too, darling.” You had always believed winter was your least favorite season, but starting this year, it would be your favorite.

(hohoho! 🎅 merry xmas to everyone who celebrates!)