#do i use the same scenes (and even the same frames) for all of my fitzconte posts? ...yes

[crustyfloor]

(sorry to the anon I couldn't answer directly because cough tumblr being an idiot cough)

1) Since My Clematis encapsulates sincere love in Alnst, and Cure represents the tragic side of it, and Wiege represents humanity and its perseverance, I think the theme of Karma will be grief & death (and it will include remembrance, maybe, or in other terms flashbacks).

And with what we know about the general theme of Alnst, it will then center Mizi, Till, and Luka's grief, the essential "cause and effect" of their actions leading up to the deaths of those they held dear, and then how they faced the impact and consequences head-on from there. With that, I think Karma will also show how humans can persevere through it, even when it's grim (It makes sense to me for these aspects of the story to be amalgamated into the very last episode with this specific cast)

(I think that mostly cause of these flowers tbh.. flowers especially in funeral settings can symbolize death and rebirth, etc, and they remind me of Anakt gravesites, so that's grief, but Mizi Luka and Till also have a theme as the ones who had to live after Sua, HyunA, and Ivan's deaths) It's meant to be...

So if they go w/ this ^ then Mizi, Till, and Luka's perspectives and how they lived through the consequences of their actions and a fate that they didn't anticipate will be coordinated around to send this message and let us into their minds and how grief distorts and impacts them

(and yeah they'll all have shared survivor's guilt, trust me)

(This also means we get to see scenes of these three at their lowest. CURE FROM TILL'S PERSPECTIVE!!)

2)

(actually...I suspect this graphic not appearing with Luka and Mizi the same way it did with Mizi and HyunA hints that neither Mizi nor Luka will die... nobody will die the alive trio will survive 😇)

5) I suspect Mizi will end up finding some sense of peace by the end of the video, not like she’s fully getting over Sua or forgiving herself entirely, however in this current arc, where she's faced with consequences, and she's ultimately blaming herself for them is being set up to be resolved. She’s the kind of person to understand and get back up again, so it’ll happen somehow.

6) SOMEONE will finally get on the stage with the defibrillator so they can reccesuitate Till's lazy ass

7) A LITTLE BIT OF CURE FROM TILL'S PERSPECTIVE!

8) Karma will be a Mizi solo but I actually think it will sound a little more harsh or distorted, I can't get "Worst case scenario" -(nastyona) out of my head... now I think Karma itself will have a nastyona-esc sound, maybe for the little throwback to the trigger series (or that's my favoritism for that series talking) plus I think there will be dialogue sequences

9) More hyper-realistic and low-key eerie frames this time around that symbolize the self-sacrificial and theological themes of Mizi and Sua's dynamic & a reflection of the way Sua "haunts" Mizi's narrative.. yesss 🤤

10) I don't think Mizi will take her mental breakdown out on Luka and do anything to him directly, so no sneakily shooting Luka in the ass

11) Till breathing

12) At least a hopeful ending . Please, "The happy ending is where they all die." propaganda is like the cheese touch to me 🙎‍♂️

After we've been shown humans living with hope in a world like this in Wiege, even despite the odds and the rebellion's existence itself, I think it'd be a nice touch to see the rebels' plan to reconnect humanity through this rocket and HyunA's efforts and passion be seen through in the story. I'm not sure how that would play out, but why would Vivinos put those efforts and all that build-up in vain if not to set up a hopeless ending contrary to what messages and goals have been conveyed thus far in this series? I also think it will open up a chance for the remaining cast to get off the dubiously explodable stage this time. I want the characters to live to see this message through, if all goes well

13) i want till to live (gets blown up)

[timeslipcamp]

thoughts on episode 5

hotarubi!!! god this chapter was such a rollercoaster when i read it for the first time. the last like, ten chapters had me on the edge of my seat and i was texting my friends who had never even heard about the game lol

other than the dolls smh not a fan sorry zenji

spoilers through ep 17

like why did it have to be a doll 😭😭😭

anyways

love that this chapter opens up with romeo demanding things. mc working with sinostra is so funny she really can do it all. good for you girl be multi faceted!!

OH THE HOUSES omg i forgot how early we saw the info. look at her getting her research on. it's still wild to me that there were 10 (potentially 8 or 9) houses worth of gen students and they all managed to fit in five this year lmao. hope there was enough dorm rooms

moby does point out that hotarubi has a "pristine" reputation among the students and the professors. darkwicks pets much. no wonder haku transferred there.

alright wait hold on you're telling me ANYONE can use this 3D printer in the library to get a perfectly detailed layout of ANY place in darkwick??? 👀 oh boy if this isn't foreshadowing idk what it is then. like, any location???

dude rereading this chapter and knowing about zenji makes it ten times more sad lol like noticing the scene cuts and the lines....that plot twist was so well done. i SCREAMED when i read it the first time

also hotarubi is just so pretty???? like these are my fav aesthetics for suuuure

man im gonna start keeping a list of which ghouls get called handsome in canon lmao we've got what, jin twice over and haku? and the JANITOR lmaoo

once again wishing subaru was a lesbian...

mc bowing back is so funny dude i love her

LOVE how shifty subaru got when we explained why we were there. i know it might technically have to do with lyca but the way his expression dropped and got so serious for a moment...love it love the tense moment. also love that all the other inspectors quit lmao

haku why are you always taking walks dude what are you looking for

dude they really frame subaru's meetings with lyca as so shady 😂 the all black background, "it won't be long now," tkdb please. not to mention moby's warning of "the hotarubi ghouls are hiding something"

it's also fun to see haku step up and see how competant he is on missions, like no wonder darkwick trusts him. he gets shit done and looks great doing it!!

i really hate creepy dolls man. every once in a while this story reminds me it's horror based and i'm like oh yeah i'm a giant wimp!!! honestly i'm impressed i kept reading after episode 2 hahaha fuck that thing

when i say i screamed the first time i read this

anyways

"not even us ghouls understand our stigmas that well" this game makes me feel insane.

mc getting sleep paralysis right when zenji's trying to leave a note 😭 messenger boy at it again i love him. unintentionally freaky as hell

OH MY GOD DANTE AND ALANS MEETING IS THIS CHAPTER mc i love you, you peeping tom

"why are you alive" never change alan

hey wait. subaru's said a couple times that people suck more than anomalies and then that wickhive screenshot said they were dissidents during the clash. what happened between then and now that made them have such a "spotless" reputation with the staff?

COULD THE ABBOT SEE ZENJI????

"Why do you work so hard for everyone around you?" Haku: "There's someone I wanna help. Call it practice."

ughhhhh i love hotarubi chapters i love you haku

also once again, fuck darkwick for keeping so many anomalies locked up like this. absolutely insane. and this was ultio's gig?? oh wait lyca was at the romanian branch. ed is most likely from romania based on what he said in like ep 17 i think, do you think they were at the same facility? and then both ended up here? he did say his ideal life has a big loyal dog in it...

i really dont say this enough but props to lyca's voice actor for going in on the barking lmao i love it sm

"Special missions are classified. You can't tell anyone." how many secret missions have the other ghouls gone on? what did they have to do?

iris-colored eyes is an interesting way to describe subaru's eyes. that probably doesn't mean anything lmao that's a reach

so what do we think subaru was lying about? was it lying in general about lyca? or did lyca actually murder someone? was it something else about his special mission? EDIT nvm it was his stigma lmao

"i'm done suspecting people" says mc immediately before finding haku talking to that creepy doll

oh my god speaking of creepy 😭 i forgot about the ghost kids. brb while i get my post it notes to cover my screen while i read

i still would love to know which rogue anomaly killed zenji but nooooo haku said not to poke the hornet's nest. ugh. i want the clash details so bad i'm actually going to lose my mind whenever it finally happens, i won't shut up for WEEKS

also good to note that both tohma and haku have a skeleton key. and that subaru doesn't have to say his word at all, it just starts. the staff really knows nothing huh

LOVE LOVE LOVE that the first time we see haku with an actually mad expression is when subaru reveals he was lying to darkwick. "look where you're standing. you of all people should know better than this." haku has seen first hand what happens when ghouls become liabilities and subaru has seen lyca been locked up for less! he's still in here! haku has INTIMATE knowledge, especially after what he was implying in the prologue/chapter one around the rui conversation, of what happens to ghouls that disagree with darkwick. UGH ugh ugh haku im shaking you in a jar TELL ME ABOUT THE CLASH

so i spoke a little about haku's motivations in my traitor theory post but i'm almost kind of wondering now if haku became the traitor as like, a sacrificial move. like he fell on the wire so no one else would have to. he's mentioned a couple times in a few episodes and screen lines about how his family is a big deal but he's nothing special, always takes the easy way out, etc. maybe him making the play to become darkwick's puppet was his way of making up for that, that this is how he could finally do something big and worthwhile.

or he's just slimy, who knows.

anyways it made me so genuinely happy to see lyca being freed even if darkwick put that wack ass condition on it.

this chapter was such a whirlwind the whole way through and had one of the best plot twists i've seen in this game. love hotarubi so much and lyca deserves the WORLD. 10/10

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

(Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of this blog!! Which- holy shit! A whole year of this! Thank you guys so much for going on this wild ride with us! We've been astounded and delighted by the feedback and interaction we've gotten about this story, and we're thrilled to pieces for what we've got to share with you all in the future!)

(In honor of this milestone, we're going to start implementing something that we've been thinking about since we started the blog, but haven't been able to find good timing for- Flashback Fridays!)

(These are little bonus scenes that don't fit into the main chronology of the story- some take place during the time frame covered on the blog and just didn't fit into the pacing we wanted, some take place during the events of the game but before the start of the blog, and some take place before the events of P3 entirely!)

(We hope you enjoy the first example of this feature! We really enjoy these scenes and we're glad to start showing them off!)

They’d kept his old room empty.

Shinjiro almost wants to say something about it, make some shitty remark about their sentimentality, but it’s not like he’s any better. He could and probably should have ducked straight inside and locked the door behind him with an excuse about needing to unpack, as if that didn’t amount to just turning out his pockets.

He did not do that, because he’s every damn bit as sentimental as Aki and Kirijo.

So the three of them linger in the hall outside the door to the room that somehow had remained his this whole time, just talking.

It’s easy– way, way too easy– to fall back into the familiarity of their dynamic, clicking back into place like it doesn’t matter how long he’d been gone or why he’d left in the first place. 

He shouldn’t be letting this happen, but he can’t stand the thought of having to see Aki and Kirijo’s faces if he tried to brush them off now.

That new field leader of theirs comes by– Arisato, who can apparently carry a dozen different Personas in his head and shuffle through them like playing cards. After sniffing around briefly he retreats back to the lounge area and takes a seat next to the blonde girl who had introduced herself to Shinjiro– with comedic levels of excess formality– as Aigis. She passes him a paperback book, and for a while they’re quiet.

So quiet that Shinjiro almost forgets about them, letting himself get reabsorbed into conversation with Kirijo and Aki until Aigis speaks again.

“Usually, people's asses are already cracked,” she says, with the exact same cadence and tone you’d expect to hear from a voice announcing train schedules over a loudspeaker. “Yours is as well, right, Minato-san?”

Shinjiro’s eyebrows climb. “...Do we need to go rescue him?”

“Nah,” Aki laughs. “Arisato can handle Aigis by himself just fine.” 

And apparently Aki’s right, because without missing a beat or so much as a twitch of anything that could be called a facial expression, Arisato tells Aigis that the answer to her question is ‘a secret’.

“Please tell me someday.” Aigis manages to sound both earnest and absolutely inflectionless at the same time. Arisato nods, still completely stone-faced.

“Where did you even find this girl?” Shinjiro asks, feeling hypnotized by the sheer weirdness of the scene. The blonde hair and blue eyes, and that name– she’s got to be a foreigner, right?

“Yakushima, technically,” Aki says.

“‘Technically’?” What in the goddamn hell is that supposed to mean?

“Akihiko, did you not tell him anything about Aigis?” Kirijo asks incredulously. 

“I didn’t know that was my responsibility, so no, I didn’t.” He looks way too damn amused by this, like it’s some big secret that Shinjiro isn’t privy to. Figures. 

Kirijo’s ‘I must bear the burden of being surrounded by fools with grace’ sigh sounds just the same as Shinjiro remembers.

“Aigis is an anti-Shadow suppression weapon designed by the Kirijo Group,” she explains. Shinjiro stares at her like a second head just sprouted from her shoulders. That’s so out of left field that– she’s got to be messing with him, right? 

Well, no, that can’t be right. This is Kirijo, after all– telling jokes is beneath her.

“She had been offline and out of commission for nearly a decade, kept in storage in the lab at Yakushima. She reactivated herself unexpectedly during our visit this summer and has been a valuable member of the team since then.”

Shinjiro is still trying to wrap his head around the beginning of Kirijo’s explanation by the time she’s reached the end of it.

“A robot,” he finally manages. “And…how is a robot supposed to fight Shadows, exactly?”

“By utilizing the power of a Persona, just the same as we do.”

He takes a moment to digest this. He takes a second and third moment, because one was not enough, apparently. Does he even want to ask after the gritty details about how a robot can have a Persona, or why the robot needs to look like an anime character?

He actually doesn’t, he decides. Ignorance is bliss.

“So,” he says. “You’ve got a robot with a Persona just– in the dorm.”

“Well, yes.” Kirijo’s perfect poise doesn’t falter, but Shinjiro can tell that it’s a close call. So she does recognize how goddamn ridiculous the concept is when you boil it down, at least.

“And wearin’ a Gekkou uniform,” Shinjiro points out, just to see her reaction.

“She decided yesterday that she wants to go to school, and Mitsuru and the chairman let her,” Aki says, grinning. Kirijo manages to frown at him without actually changing the shape of any one of her facial features.

“I feel that allowing her to become more familiar with humanity– both of others’ and her own– would be an enriching experience for her.”

Shinjiro whistles. “You’re really livin’ in an episode of Argon Exodus Disciple these days, huh,” he says, looking back over at their field leader and the– robot, apparently. “We gonna be fighting Shadows in giant mechs anytime soon?”

“There aren’t any plans for it currently. But if such a device is ever prototyped, shall I consider you as our first volunteer test pilot?” Kirijo’s smile is flawlessly professional and surgically sharp. Shinjiro does something that he hasn’t done in two years:

He throws back his head and laughs, one short, harsh bark of sound.

Alright, so maybe Kirijo has learned how to tell a joke. How’s that for progress?

[nedconte]

— Charlotte Brontë

[sskk-manifesto]

Next time we should just skip over ep 3 and do a chapters 84-87 reread

[veal-exe]

I saw a post earlier, I will not be appending my response to that post to the post itself, but I did want to touch upon it.

The post was about how trans men and transmasculine people afab don't have any media tropes that are, we'll say, problematic for them, the way that the 'funny man in a dress' trope is trans-misogynistic, I wanted to discuss that and lay that claim to rest.

Below I will be discussing some tropes in media that affect trans masculine people afab. Some may be worse than others, some accidental, some maybe on purpose, but I've compiled them because I think it's important to understand that just how the harmful tropes aimed at masculine people afab do exist, they just differ in their execution.

DISCLAIMER: If I have worded anything poorly in this post please tolerate it, English is my fourth language and it can be overwhelming to attempt linguistic perfection or the performance of it for native English Speaker.

EDIT: tumblr really messed my layout and formatting up, sorry for that but I'm not fixing it unless I really need to.

1. “Tomboy Gets a Makeover” = Suddenly She’s Worth Something (AKA: Now She’s Fuckable)

This one’s everywhere. You’ve got a character who’s rough around the edges, usually wears hoodies, maybe doesn’t shave, maybe doesn’t even care what people think. And the story punishes her for that. Until someone (usually a fairy godmother or mean girl turned ally) shoves her into a dress, puts some gloss on her lips, straightens her hair...

and then she’s finally seen as beautiful, desirable, and valid.

The core message? Your masculinity is temporary, and your value doesn’t actually exist until you conform to traditional femininity. You weren’t lovable, datable, or even visible until you softened up and got pretty.

This trope tells young people AFAB:

You're not enough unless you perform femininity

Your gender nonconformity is a flaw to fix

If you're not seen as sexy in the "right" way, you're invisible

And this sticks. Especially for transmascs, who grew up seeing their natural instincts or styles treated like a before picture.

Examples:

The Princess Diaries – Mia goes from “invisible frizzy nerd” to prom-queen level once her hair is flat and her legs are waxed.

A Cinderella Story – Sam’s baggy clothes are treated like a shield for her insecurity, until she shows up in a dress and suddenly earns male attention.

The Breakfast Club – Allison is artsy and weird and quietly masc... until she’s quite literally pink-washed and given a makeover so she can be datable.

She's All That – Laney is cool and self-possessed in her own way, but the movie waits until she’s in a red dress and contacts to take her seriously.

Meteor Garden – Shan Cai’s toughness is tolerable, but she’s still only framed as truly “lovable” after being softened through male attention.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

2. “She Pretended to Be a Boy” = She’s a Lying Snake Whore

When characters AFAB dress or live as boys, it’s almost always framed as deception. Not survival. Not autonomy. Not self-expression. Just trickery. There’s a dramatic “reveal” scene where everyone suddenly feels betrayed, like the character has been scheming the whole time instead of just…

living. Sound familiar?

This isn’t just about fiction. It directly echoes how transmasc people are treated in reality, as liars, as fake men, as threats to those around them just by existing. The idea that someone AFAB could be masculine, or just a guy, is treated like a trap set for unsuspecting cis people.

The underlying message:

You can’t be trusted if you present as masculine

Your gender is a mask, a trick, a crime

If people liked you before, they were duped

it’s the same logic used to justify violence and exclusion towards Transmasculine people AFAB in reality.

Examples:

She’s the Man – Viola pretends to be her brother to play soccer, but it’s all “uh-oh she has boobs” humor. Her gender presentation is the punchline.

The King’s Affection – She lives as the crown prince and does a damn good job, but the tension constantly hinges on whether she’s tricking people by being there at all. Masculinity is okay only if it’s secret and painful.

Coffee Prince – Go Eun-chan presents as male to get a job, and instead of critiquing the system that forces her to do it, the narrative focuses on her guilt and “the reveal.” Masculinity is tolerated, but never fully respected.

Victor/Victoria – Gender is treated as a clever disguise. The moment someone finds out “the truth,” it’s all shock, betrayal, and drama. Queerness framed as a con.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

3. “It’s Just a Phase” = You’ll Be a Real Girl™️ Eventually

You can be a tomboy for now. Run around, get messy, be loud. It’s even kind of cute! As a little kid who needs to grow up. Then suddenly, your masculinity isn’t just childish! it’s a problem. Something to “grow out of.” Something to fix!

This trope trains audiences to see AFAB masculinity as:

Immature

A quirk of childhood

A stepping stone to real femininity

And what does “real girlhood” mean in this context? Dresses. Lip gloss. Boys. The implication is that your value kicks in when you start performing the kind of femininity that makes you palatable and desirable. You were allowed to be wild for a minute, but only if you clean up nice later.

It reinforces the same tired message: Girlhood = destination, not a choice. Masculinity is just the wrong stop on the way. If you are Transmasculine AFAB, you are a child who should grow up, immature, being treated as much younger than they are is a huge issue with transmasculine people AFAB.

I would like to add that this is also a misogynistic trope, but misogyny intersects with transandrophobia in ways that are valid to talk about.

Examples:

The Parent Trap – Annie and Hallie are opposites, but Hallie (tomboy-coded) only really “settles down” and softens once she’s back with her mom. Her rougher edge is charming but temporary.

Now and Then – Roberta is the tomboy of the group, and her Big Moment of Growth™ comes when she puts on a dress. Not solving childhood trauma. Not emotional healing. The dress.

Boys Over Flowers – Jan-di is scrappy, resilient, athletic! and then she falls for the male lead and gradually loses every bit of that fire. By the end, she’s quiet, deferential, and soft. like that’s her natural arc.

Hi My Sweetheart– Rainie Yang’s character starts out masc-presenting and bold. She’s mocked, corrected, and eventually “fixed” into a soft, pink, cutesy girl. Her makeover isn’t for her. it’s the narrative giving her permission to be “dateable.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

5. “One of the Boys” But Never Really One of the Boys

She’s tough. She’s cool. She fights. She hangs with the guys. She might even burp. But make no mistake! she’s never actually allowed to be one. This trope gives characters AFAB just enough masculinity to seem "interesting," then punishes them if they go too far with it.

Again, this is also a misogynistic trope, but the intersectionality here is important even in the ones that don't seem obvious, some people will poke fun at me putting Natasha here for example, but if you do that you're misunderstanding my intent and I do not care for it.

I am not saying ANY of these characters are coded transmasculine, I am discussing how masculinity is treated in regards to characters AFAB.

The message is clear: You can borrow masculinity, but don’t get comfortable in it.

These characters:

Get constant reminders that they're different

Are sexualized, softened, or sidelined the moment they get too close to “boyish”

Exist to complement the boys, not compete with them

Examples:

Avengers – Natasha Romanoff is deadly, competent, cool under pressure, but also constantly shoved into the “team mom” or “sexy redhead with feelings” role. Her backstory centers around forced sterilization, and her arc in Age of Ultron literally says she’s a “monster” for not being able to have kids. Tell me again how she’s treated like “one of the guys.”

How to Train Your Dragon – Astrid starts out as the alpha fighter, but as soon as Hiccup grows up, she becomes a background girlfriend with no arc of her own. Her sharp edge gets smoothed into supportiveness.

My Hero Academia – Nearly every tough AFAB character gets undercut. Mirko is badass but exists on the fringes. Jirou gets development, but only as support. Bakugo’s mom is comic relief. Meanwhile, male characters are allowed complex, messy, powerful arcs without ever needing to "soften" for the audience.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“AFAB Character Learns to Embrace Womanhood” = Moral Victory!

You start with a tough, scrappy, masculine-coded person AFAB, maybe she fights, maybe she’s emotionally shut down, maybe she just doesn’t want to be like other girls. It doesn't matter, this is how it ends:

She softens. She submits. She “grows” by becoming a wife, a mom, a love interest, a Real Girl™️.

This isn’t healing. It’s containment. The message is: your rebellion was cute, but it’s time to settle down and accept the role assigned to you.

“Growth” = compliance. “Strength” = giving it up. “Maturity” = pink, dresses, and a baby carriage.

Examples:

The Hunger Games – Katniss Everdeen is trauma-coded, masc-leaning, and uncomfortable with romance or traditional femininity. So what’s her ending? A baby epilogue where she’s in a dress, quietly settled into nuclear family life. Is she happy about it? No, but there's no denying that this is her ending.

Mulan II– In the original, she challenges gender roles and becomes a literal war hero. In the sequel? The plot revolves around her needing to prove she can still be soft, feminine, and wife-material. Her masculinity is not allowed to just exist.

Jojo Rabbit – Rosie (the mother) is framed as the ideal woman: warm, loving, feminine. Meanwhile, Elsa (a girl in hiding) starts out guarded and hard-edged, but only becomes “redeemed” once she softens and embraces traditional femininity.

A Silent Voice / Koe no Katachi – The narrative constantly punishes her for not being “nice enough,” and her arc only begins to shift once she becomes more demure and apologetic. She cannot be both a good person and brash or hotheaded, submit or be branded evil.

Inuyasha – Sango is introduced as a demon-slaying warrior. But her story ends in the most vanilla way possible: marriage, motherhood, and sidelining. She loses her edge completely. I hate the end of Inuyasha so much it is borderline a meme in my circles.

Fruits Basket - Uotani is tall, tomboyish, and used to be in a girl gang. She has strength, history, and depth. And then her “big growth moment”? Realizing she wants to be softer and more ladylike, because femininity is treated as the finish line within the story.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“Masculine Presentation” = Joke Costume or Moral Failure

When characters AFAB wear suits, cut their hair short, or pass as masc in any way, media rarely lets it land without a laugh track, or a moral consequence.

Masculine presentation is treated as:

A silly costume

A failed experiment

A sign of monstrosity

Or something to be shamed out of.

The story makes sure you feel embarrassed for them. It invites the audience to laugh, cringe, or judge, because “girl in boy clothes” is still a punchline in mainstream media. Just like 'Boy in girl clothes' is.

And yes, this hurts trans women, but it also absolutely targets butch, GNC, and transmasc folks. Masculinity is marked as wrong on AFAB bodies, funny if temporary, disgusting if permanent.

Examples:

Scooby-Doo – Velma’s masc coding (short hair, flat clothes, practical shoes) constantly becomes the joke. If she dresses even more masc? She’s “mistaken” for a man and ridiculed. Her queerness and presentation are treated like a quirk at best, a problem at worst.

The Suite Life of Zack and Cody – London Tipton wears a single masc outfit and the laugh track explodes. The outfit itself isn’t weird, but the show acts like the sight of her in anything non-feminine is a cosmic-level joke.

Friends – Rachel and Monica wear tuxedos in one episode, and the joke is entirely that it looks “wrong.” Chandler mocks them, the camera lingers on how “awkward” they look.

iCarly – Sam dresses masc semi-regularly, and is constantly mocked for acting “like a guy.” In interviews, actress Jennette McCurdy has said this ongoing joke contributed directly to her eating disorder relapse. This is not harmless.

Matilda - Miss Trunchbull is heavily masc-coded: big build, short hair, no makeup, harsh voice. She’s a literal villain, and her appearance is meant to be scary. Her masculinity is associated directly with her monstrosity.

Aikatsu! – Girls in suits are used as performance shock value. “Omg, a girl in a tuxedo??” is the whole joke.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

IN CLOSING.

These tropes don’t exist in a vacuum.

they shape how people see us, and how we see ourselves.

When characters AFAB exploring masculinity are only ever jokes, villains, phases, or tragedies, it sends a message: You don’t get to be this. You’re only allowed to visit. And when you're done, you better come back “correct.”

But we’re not punchlines. We’re not broken girls. Some of us are boys.

Some of us are neither.

Some of us are just butch as hell and happy about it.

We deserve stories where we aren’t corrected. Where masculinity on AFAB people isn’t a phase, a disguise, or a joke. But our lives, and the truth of them.

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Out of frame 3/4

Summary : Y/N and Lando Norris have been together for three years. Their relationship is real, steady, and full of quiet love but always behind the scenes. While fans know they’re a couple, Lando has never posted about her, avoids public displays of affection, and never mentions her in interviews. At first, Y/N understood. She believed it was about privacy, about protecting what they had. But over time, being constantly left out of frame has started to hurt.

Genre : angst, SMAU

Pairing : Lando Norris x reader

Faceclaim : @suanbeiii

Main Masterlist

Serie Masterlist

@your_username 📍Côte d’Azur

A very special photoshoot, thanks @your_photograph 🌸

@_user1 she’s literally the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. like??? how is this even real??

@_user2 Lando must be the dumbest man alive I fear 😭

@_user3 girl you’re glowing like someone who deleted his number ✨

@_user4 he said “which gf?” and she said “not me then.” ICONIC.

@_user5 this is exactly what peace looks like after you stop begging a man for the bare minimum

@_user6 no because if they break up for real, I’m shooting my shot 🫡

@_user7 soft girl era activated. and he’s nowhere in sight? suspicious 🧐

@_user8 I just know Lando’s watching this through his tears

@_user9 the flower, the pearls, the PINK , yeah no, he lost

@_user10 if he doesn’t come crawling back after this… I WILL. give me a chance queen 😭❤️

@_user11 she didn’t need to mention him to completely obliterate him

@_user12 you mean to tell me he left this to go party with his friends in Japan? okay clown

@_user13 this looks like a breakup shoot and a Vogue cover at the same time

@_user14 soooo when are you free for dinner? asking for literally all of us

Texts messages :

Lando I saw the photos You look… breathtaking

Lando I don’t even have the words How do you manage to look like that and I act like you’re not the most beautiful person in the world?

Lando Y/N please. You know I’m sorry I’ve been sorry since the second we started fighting

Lando I messed up, okay? I was defensive, I didn’t listen, I didn’t take in how much it mattered to you I thought I was protecting something private and sacred, but I see now I was just hiding

Lando I was scared. And I pushed you away because I didn’t know how to be vulnerable in front of everyone

Lando I see the comments I know what people are saying I know I look like the dumbest man alive Because I was.

Lando I’m not partying, I’m not happy, I’m not okay. I miss you. I miss your voice, your laugh, your constant humming when you cook, the way you curl your fingers in my sleeve when you’re cold

Lando I sent the flowers because I didn’t know what else to do And yeah, anyone can send flowers. But no one can love you the way I do

Lando I’m sorry. For every time I made you feel small, or hidden, or unloved You weren’t. Not even for a second You are everything

Lando Please talk to me. Please. Even if you’re mad. Yell at me. Swear at me. Just… don’t go silent on me

Lando I don’t want to lose you because I didn’t know how to show I was proud of you I am, I’m so proud. Of everything you are

Lando I love you. More than ever

Lando Please come back. Or let me come to you Just say something Anything ?

@_F1Gossip 📍Tokyo, Japan

Spotted: Lando Norris seen out partying in Tokyo after the Japan Grand Prix last night. No Y/N in sight.

@_user1 not him clubbing while she’s not here, be serious lando

@_user2 he’s out here drinking and dancing while the rest of us are grieving their relation??

@_user3 how are you gonna party when you clearly hurt your girl and she’s getting love letters in her comments?? GET IT TOGETHER.

@_user5 I’ve defended him for years but… I can’t do this anymore. she deserved better and we all know it.

@_user6 I know PR team is sweating.

@_user7 he parties like he didn’t just lose the most beautiful woman alive and humiliate her on live TV. delusion.

@_user8 idc what the drama is, I’m just waiting for Y/N to post again. SHE’S the star now

@_user9 literally everyone: “Lando please fix it” Lando: goes clubbing with his shirt unbuttoned

@_user10 “which girlfriend” got him feeling single I guess 😭

@your_usurname

Needed a drink and have the best friends ever for that🥂

@_user1 She’s in her IDGAF era and I’m here for it 🔥👑

@_user2 Oh she’s DONE done. 😮‍💨

@_user3 the crown. the girls. the middle finger. this is the official breakup tour

@_user4 Y/N said “cry about it, I’m busy glowing.”

@_user5 your glow-up is legally blinding. teach us your ways

@_user6 she’s heartbroken but make it sexy

@_user7 I know Lando’s watching this post on repeat 😭

@_user10 She’s too fine to be sad. Lando who???

@_user11 Not to be dramatic but I’d jump in front of a train for her

@_user12 Her friends deserve a raise. Crowned their queen and gave her the world tonight.

@_user13 this is what it looks like when the pretty girl realizes she deserves better 😭👏

@_user15 tell me your bf fumbled without telling me 💅🏽

3:02 AM Texts messages : Lando babe babeee bbabyyy i mean not baby i mean. ugh whatever why u so pretty huh?? like??? WHYYYY

Lando saw ur post n now i’m lying on the floor face down sad pathetic loser man vibes

Lando u look like a literal goddess like Aphro… aphroditty… aphrotiddy?? idk u know what i mean

Lando not even mad just confused hurting too mostly sad after seeing your post

Lando did ur friend give u that crown? tell her i said thanks for crowning the queen of my whole life also tell her to stop commenting “he fumbled” i knooooow

Lando i miss ur laugh ur hands ur eyes ur frown when i’m being annoying miss all of it even ur cold feet under the covers

Lando i shud have posted u every day every hooour every millimillisecond u soooo pretty i wanna scream

Lando come back plsss or lemme come back i’ll be so good. i’ll buy u flowers every hour i’ll post u. tag u

Lando can i call uuuu i wanna hear ur voice just wanna know ur real and not like. a hallucination from my own stupidity

Lando ok gonna go cry in the shower now

Lando iloveyou babyyyy answer plssss i'm not drunk just ok i'm drunk plssss answer fuck i miss u

@landonorris

Mmyyy loove

@_user1 wait… WHO is this girl??? where is Y/N??? 😭

@_user2 why this man do a post at 4 a.m, is he not in a club ??

@_user3 so let me get this straight. he couldn’t tag Y/N, never posted her, but now he’s posting mystery girl like this???

@_user4 he really said “which gf?” and then proved it 😐

@_user5 the audacity of this man is actually insane. like. Y/N was literally still watching his races

@_user6 did they break up and he already moved on?? and posting about it?? bold

@_user7 3 years of silence and now THIS. lando norris you will pay for your crimes

@_user8 hope Y/N is living her best life far away from this nonsense

@_user9 he’s just soft launching a whole new girl while Y/N gets silence. bro what

@_user10 if this is a new gf… he better never talk about privacy again cause this is messy 😵‍💫

@_user11 no way you were gifted the most elegant woman and fumbled her like this

@_user12 someone go check on Y/N cause this?? this is COLD.

5:02 AM Texts messages

Y/N who the fuck is she?

Y/N you seriously meet some random girl ?

Y/N you CHEATED on me??? you really cheated on me and then posted it for the world to see?

Y/N lando what the hell you disappear on me, ignore everything I said, and now THIS?

Y/N you couldn’t post me for THREE YEARS

Y/N is this why you didn’t tag me? because you still flirt with girls in clubs and you didn’t want me to find out?

Y/N you didn’t even have the decency to end things before doing this we weren’t okay, but I still loved you. I will have still showed up for you and this is how you repay me?

Y/N this is LOW. even for you.

Y/N say something SAY. SOMETHING. LANDO !!!!! Answer your phone I'm trying to call you rn

Y/N I swear to god, we’re DONE.

Taglist (closed) : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1, @adynorris, @curlylando, @rebelliousneferut, @justcharlotte, @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies, @emneedshelp, @lando-505, @yukimaniac, @sashisuslover, @f1norris04, @hi26loveie, @bunnisplayground, @nina481, @reallifemermaidprincess, @cars-and-frogs, @delululeclerc, @txmhxllqnd, @lydia-demarek, @destinyg237, @rhaenyrasversion, @sarascabiosa, @readz4u, @tvdtw4ever, @mynameisangeloflife, @teti-menchon0604, @suns3treading, @op814kitty, @prettyboyroseberg, @willowsnook, @ariesandwolves, @clarksgf, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @pinklemonade34, @fat-meh, @tiaajosephin, @landosbabe4, @easy4, @jule239, @mercrussell, @skylandori, @ryuucollapse, @nickie-amore, @fairyjinn, @seonaw, @strawberrylov-er, @linnygirl09, @dilflover44, @bell1a, @f1fantasys, @sillyfreakfanparty, @janonymus0, @taetae-armyyyyy, @charlesgirl16, @angstynasty, @jules-bea2308, @afternoonarchive, @itsbieberxholland, @rexit-mo, @chlmtfilms, @vampgege, @mochimommy2002, @budgetcupid, @lemon-stvrrr, @bell1a, @taebearyoongs, @hazzasmunchkin, @sainz0fthetimes, @didaaa4, @madelyn2000, @il0vereadingstuff, @march32nd, @chlmtfilms, @literallysza, @cheapdocmartens, @wolfstarsimpxx, @pretzelcat4-blog, @larya810, @6-noir, @urfavftoomie, @ficr3ccs, @strawberrylov-er, @wosof1, @behindmygreyeyes, @justheretoreadthxxs, @pinklemonade34, @ninass-world, @landosbabe4, @leclercdream, @perfectsuitcasegardenpie, @flowersandalll, @sagestack, @angxedxtz, @fangirl125reader, @mimisweetz, @mattslovelygf, @taetae-armyyyyy, @guacala, @gothicwidowsworld, @chezmardybum, @virtualperfectioncat, @cherryhazee,@bubble012, @teti-menchon0604

[remxedmoon]

so all you need to do right now is disappear.

HHHHAPPY ISATVERSARY EVERYONE. here’s redraws for every single battle cg in the game. 36 drawings this time around, with 11 of those being custom (though admittedly a good portion of those are edits). combined with the portrait redraws i made back in september, i’ve made 114 redraws for this project! jesus christ! just like those redraws, these are completely free to use!! as long as i’m credited and it’s not for commercial purposes, go wild!! do whatever you want!!!

no i didn’t make these for isat’s 1 year anniversary this is just wildly good timing.

i genuinely can’t fit all of these cgs in one post even with the 30 image limit on browser, but i’ll still try to fit Most of them below the cut (without making this post horrifically long), along with some notes that might be important 👍

okay! once again, i labeled all of the custom art as such in the drive(UPDATE. NNOT TRUE ANYMORE. reformatted file names to be easier to mod in auau. apologies!), but if you want a full list, the customs are hatless siffrin jackpot, bonnie jackpot, bonnie special attack, bigfrin attack, and a bunch of alts which are definitely not related to any projects i’ve been thinking about don’t worry about it. and out of those customs, only like. 3 of them are actually completely from scratch.

while i did my absolute best to keep the aspect ratios completely the same as the originals, there’s 3 exceptions that i just couldn’t get to work.

isabeau’s hair in his special attack cg wouldn’t fit in frame if i kept things completely accurate to the og, so i moved his cg down a bit. it shouldn’t cause any issues with modding or anything, it’ll just appear slightly lower than it does in game. alas…

isabeau’s sleeve and mirabelle’s hair made their jackpot sprites a little larger than the originals? i’m hoping this doesn’t have too much of an effect (since the jackpot sprites have inconsistent sizes) but i can’t test this myself unfortunately. aaa feel free to let me know on discord if any problems arise!!

i managed to fix these, so they aren’t going to cause problems now, but my original drawings for mirabelle and siffrin in the final attack scene were a pain in the ass to fix. mirabelle’s sprite was slightly too talk to fit in frame and siffrin’s hat whacked bonnie in the face while i was editing everyone together. i’m only mentioning this because it took like an hour and a half to fix them and finish the scene.

all that aside, these were a fucking BLAST to work on. apparently this ended up taking 57 hours over exactly 10 days. which is a little worrying if you do the math on that but somehow i have not burnt myself out. i will be doing enemies at some point!!! but probably not for a little bit. i think my friends will actually kill me if i don’t take a break.

once again, happy birthday isat. you’ve ruined my life and i wouldn’t have it any other way (silly).

also, on an actual serious note, this little timeloop game has genuinely changed my life for the better? you guys are probably sick of hearing it at this point (or maybe not, i don’t talk about myself That Much. i hope), but i was practically a ghost for about 2 years before joining this fandom. it’s a little surreal to suddenly have friends (plural!!!) and people who Care about me, or even know i exist, honestly. it’s weird!! in a good way!!!

i don’t think i would’ve ever come back to social media if this community wasn’t so welcoming. i’ve met a lot of really great people through this game!!! so, uh, thank you isat, i guess. here’s to another year.

[palskippah]

Hi! I give you this Stobotnik fankid I made a while ago :'y

She's Sofia --or Ivania or some other name ending in 'ia'-- Robotnik (coolest last name)

It's a compilation and also there's some Stone for practice bc I have no idea how to draw him pipipi Eggman is easier bc it's just his Sonic Boom design (I love it)

Some stuff about this universe under the cut!

(Btw if there's incongruencies is bc I can't make up my mind about the facts whwhw)

-Robotnik and Stone are married, very much married. Cartoon villains in love, I love that for them.

-["MARTHA I'M COMING HOME SWEETIE-"] Mixing up the movie things and the whatever's going on in the Sonic Boom, so Robotnik was gone for eight months and when he's back she's already born.

>Also the drawing is a reference to Icarly's "Whatcha got there?" "A smoothie" but she was clearly asking about the ostrich Spencer brought with him.

>Alternatively, Eggman's there and they go through the journey together yippiee. Choosing names, making evil parenting plans and whatever, being their idiot selves.

(After celebrating because they're good news actually) "I want a boy or a girl-" (Eggman) "Yeah me too." (Stone) "-and we should name them a single, worth of remembering name! Like... Eggette for a girl and Eggson for a boy." "I'm not letting you name them any of that, doctor..." "Okay, then how about Beyonce for a girl and-"

>They wouldn't have kids (?? maybe? I don't really know, I only know sonic boom and the movie :'U)- but she was probably the 1% the birth control warns you about. Also, Stobotnik got a very active seggsual life, and I'm imagining she came to be from a quickie over the desk, why not.

>Helpful diagram of Eggman + Stone kissing and then = baby. They were in work hours.

-In the one where he comes back and the baby's already there, Eggman does a terrible job as a father the few first months, but then he gets the hang of it and it's not so bad.

>He gets projectile vomited on and he's immediately asking to get an abortion (the baby's already born) (he didn't give birth to her), Stone says no anyways.

>"Surprisingly, I'm a good father" he thinks one day and it's because he's still very much an orphan here with no frame of comparation or example aside from researching the matter.

-In the one where they wait for her together, he does all the research necessary in all those months, absolutely refusing in doing an average job in that matter, he's the great Ivo Robotnik c'mon. He excels at anything and he'll be a great father (jk he's terrified of fucking up).

-The Stobotnik family is an evil but loving family, like the bears in Puss in Boots whwh criminal family✨

-For the funny of it, Sonic and Eggman got a sort of relationship like in Sonic Boom, so sometime maybe our favorite boy, Tails and Knuckles had to look after their child.

-Also since Knuckles broke Stone's and Robotnik's hands with their handshake, let's have him handle the baby with the most careful grip ever, just to demonstrate that he didn't have to grab their hands that hard aksdjask

-She's a big fan of Sonic and friends (Sonic the Hedgehog, not Sonic Wachowski, the second guy hadn't done even half the things she admires him for, but no one has the heart to tell her when she's a kid). Has a bunch of merch and all the comics of Sonic the Hedgehog.

>When she's a teenager she proudly uses her Sonic backpack in the same way Deadpool uses his Hello Kitty backpack.

-BTW Sonic, Knuckles and Tails are all brothers and Maddie and Tom's kids bc that's the best idea ever made.

-ALSO I'm definitely gonna draw that scene where Knuckles was about to put the baby in the blender and Sonic shouts THE CHILI DOG NOT THE BABY. Some day, you'll see pipipi.

-SAGE was created for various reasons, to be her sister (since she wouldn't stop asking for one but neither Stone nor Robotnik were willing in raising another human kid, thanks very much), to protect her, and also to answer the tedious "why?" questions that neither father had the patience for (A+ parenting right there). Maybe she was used for the original purpose too idk (I don't know that sonic game where she debuts).

>The child's delighted about having a sister, then she grows up and SAGE doesn't, so she has a little sister.

>METAL SONIC TOO MAYBE? Perfect lil american family, the two happily married parents and their three kids (one human girl, an IA and a robot clone of their alien enemy).

-On her early months she was called Pebble, because she really was a mini Stone, Robotnik went along with it (bc he also looked at her and only saw his husband whw) until she was a little older and they started calling her by her name.

>Alternatively, since Eggman was gone, Stone waited for him to return in hopes of choosing together a name for their child, and Pebble worked as a placeholder since she was just a bebi.

>Alternatively alternatively, Eggman came up with the nickname. ROCK-ONNAISSANCE 🗣️ also yeah I know he was going crazy from the mushroom stuff, but he's not above making silly puns, he's a dad now and also he's naturally silly.

(NGL I really gotta make up my mind about how it all happened ajsdkad)

-She's a spoiled kid and also a little menace, unintentionally evil, she can't help it.

>Good-hearted too sometimes, she loves Sage and does her best to protect her back (it's not necessary but it's appreciated anyways).

-Robotnik calls himself 'daddy' way too much in the live-action movies to ignore it, so he's daddy and Stone's dad (dada when she was younger).

>"These are my daddies!" (points to what's clearly two villains -but also good fathers-)

-She has Robotnik's eyes but as big as Stone's. They're the lethal-est sad puppy eyes ever (they work wonders on both parents and other people) (both men got beautiful dark brown eyes with visible eyelashes fight me).

>Look at Eggman's silly eyelashes:

>Also, you know that picture of Lee Majdoub with the beautiful everything? I think he was wearing eyeliner so my Stone wears eyeliner too in contrast to Eggman's dark circles under his eyes JDJS😭

-She's the five-year-old that made Sonic fear them because 'they can be so cruel when they sense weakness' (she was brutally honest as any young kid is).

-Stone and Robotnik got Gomez and Morticia Addams kinda parenting. They see their child beating up someone and they're like:

"What did we do wrong?" (Stone while shaking his head in disappointment) "I know... she lacks resourcefulness." (Eggman) "Exactly, there's her baseball bat right there, why doesn't she use it?"

-Remember that Shadow said in a game that he wouldn't mind taking a candy from a baby? (fandub I think but still) This comes in handy when neither Tails, Sonic or Knuckles want to upset the kid (so Shadow does it instead).

-She plays sports too because she got too much energy. In each of them she loses her patience. She grabs the football and hauls it at the nearest team member, she throws her baseball bat to the ground and starts beating up whoever threw the ball that she missed, she stomps in frustration if she loses, she's great at dodgeball (sends her classmates to the infirmary).

-Throws tantrums and stuff and overall's an annoying kid if she's upset. Eggman's like UGH WHY'S SHE LIKE THIS?? and Stone's like Because of you, doctor (terrible temperament runs in the family and also Robotnik just spoiled her too much).

-I'm kinda dressing her up in the clothes that existed in my mind that supposedly Eggman wore (the weird dress-like jacket with the big zipper in the middle). Under her jacket there's a dress in the same pattern as the original Eggman's clothes, also she wears a baby onesie like that too.

-When she's older she's definitely proud of her fathers, but she doesn't appreciate the rumors that she's prone to go power-crazy like Robotnik did. Especially because it may be true, but what do they know.

-For the irony, she can't stand drinking coffee, but loves the smell of it because it reminds her of home (omg).

-THEY HAVE A PET CAT like I read in some fics and her name is Robot and she's a lil shit and also grumpy like Robotnik.

>Maybe she brings her alive mice to experiment on all sort of stuff (like Pávlov and his dogs and the guy Skinner with his mice and cats (??))

-She gets to hang out with Sonic and friends under the condition of annoying him as much as possible. So, she complies. (She loves Sonic the Hedgehog, but she loves making her fathers happy more).

-Very smart kid but not to the level of Tails or Robotnik at that age, she's just got very good memory and learning skills and knows a lot of stuff ever since she was a little kid. More like a Matilda-kinda intelligence.

-She's a scientist when she grows up too but the kind that makes evil potions and serums and stuff aksjdk probably (chemistry things? biochem idk). She can make silly little robots for the fun of it but it's not her passion, unlike Robotnik and Stone's. PROBABLY. I'm still deciding.

-BTW LOOK (it says 'carefully crafted ploy to distract space porcupines')

>While Eggman's there with the baby and Sonic in front of him going AWWW BABY BOO and making her laugh, Stone is sneaking up on him holding a chair above his head to knock him out.

THAT'S IT THANKS FOR READING ✨✨

[reidmotif]

I’ve Got My Eye On You

Summary: Reader is a Special Surveillance agent assigned to spy on Spencer. He manages to see through her cover, and thoroughly enjoys the confrontation that follows.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: voyeurism, oral (f!receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, f!masturbation, slight dubcon regarding recorded sex, heavily based on that one scene in scandal, iykyk.

Word Count: 3.5k

Masterlist

I’d always been good at watching people. 

My life had been spent mostly to myself, divulging the information people offered without even realizing. When you talk less, you learn that body language, passing remarks, or even the quirk of an eyebrow gives away more than anyone ever realized– maybe more than an actual conversation at times. 

And I took it all in stride, not a single detail left unanalyzed. People were always surprised when I’d mention my observations, finding a way to explain a seemingly unexplainable situation, those around me wondering how on Earth I could’ve been privy to that. I’d always shrug at their queries. 

Pay more attention, I guess. 

It wasn’t a surprise that I’d ended up here, I suppose, in the end, as an Investigative Specialist for the FBI. I doubt that my listening skills were exactly what landed me the job, but I’d like to believe they contributed more than they actually did. Regardless, I’d never expected the result of the decisions I’d made over the years to lead to this– involved in spying on an agent of our own. 

The infamous "Dr Reid".

His specific circumstances had been shrouded in secrecy and mystery, apparently having just been let out of prison. (Prison? How’s he an agent then? Anyway, not my problem).

 The Bureau had been curious about erratic behavior on his part, and the string of discrepancies involving the unit he was involved in. Apparently, there had been multiple unforeseen and unprecedented events all occurring under the same team in a relatively small time-frame, and despite smaller investigations, nothing came out of them to warrant any real disciplinary action.  Probably why they brought me in, in the hopes of changing that. 

I’d been assigned to put up small, virtually undetectable cameras and listening devices within his apartment. 24/7 home surveillance, no exceptions. I couldn’t help but think that the guy really should invest in better apartment security, despite how easy his naivete made my job. His lack of caution surprised me, given the details I’d been given. For a guy who had a penchant for being framed by the ghosts of his past, he sure didn’t live like it.  Even as an FBI agent, he essentially had no technology to counter my own, and the height of his protection was a standard deadbolt. Was he insane? Unaware, somehow? Only time would tell, I suppose. And I had plenty of that, to watch and deduce the nature of his mind on my own terms. 

My time spent with Spencer resulted in one, overwhelming conclusion. Spencer Reid lived a relatively quiet life. His apartment was barely used, honestly, given the sporadic nature of his job. (Which was a shame, in my opinion, because it’s a nice apartment).  When he was at home, he seemed to remain quite unassuming. The positions I’d see him assume often were that of being hunched over on an aging leather sofa, pouring himself into grading papers, or creating lesson plans for his students. Oh, right. Did I mention he was also a professor? He is. I’d assume he likes the job, given how much of himself he gives into it, or maybe that was just who he was as a person. I wasn’t sure yet. 

I monitored his life outside of the apartment occasionally as well, just to see what intel I could gather with further investigation. There wasn’t much. Coffee shops. Book shops. Coffee. Books. Coffee- God, does the guy do anything else with his life? 

Most days, though, I’d liken him to butter spread too thinly over toast. Sleepless from nightmares that would have him walking around his apartment until daylight broke through the window panes. I felt exhausted just watching the guy, and it seemed insane that he could continue to live on when he left that apartment at the break of dawn. It didn’t seem like he had anyone to talk to, honestly. From what I was seeing, he wasn’t a threat to the Bureau, just a sad, middle-aged man who’d been dealt the most unfair of hands in life. 

I’m sure there’s a moral somewhere in all that. To waste your potential on something that gives so little back. Oh, well. My report was nearly finished at this point, and the most I could recommend the higher-ups was to get Spencer a better therapist, maybe. This one wasn’t really helping, it seemed. Besides that, his personal behavior wasn’t indicative of anything worrying to the interests of those managing him. 

At long last, it was my final night of watching him. Coincidentally, the date lined up with Halloween, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to finally be free of this specific survey job. Don’t get me wrong, Spencer seemed nice- but God, his life was boring. I don’t want to say it was like watching paint dry,  out of respect, but previous targets had offered at least some part of their life to be interested within. Spencer had nothing. No friends over, no gossip-like phone conversations, no drunk wanderings home. Nothing! I know he didn’t sign up to be watched, but God. 

Like, come on. Give me anything here. 

Needless to say, I’d become accustomed to the quiet, and this night was no different. If he was following schedule, he should be home right about … now. 

Now? 

Now… 

Silence. 

Spencer was definitely a creature of habit, so to not see him adhere to the routine he’d so meticulously stuck to in the past was a bit jarring, but I assumed he was just running late. 

A few hours later, I reasoned he must be running really really late. It was bordering on midnight, and he still wasn’t home. I checked train schedules, possible reports of a car crash, just about anything that could keep him from his scheduled appearance at home. 

I was just about to call my supervisor to look into whether or not he’d been called out on a surprise case, but that’s when the door of his apartment creaked open, and I felt my shoulders deflate in relief. Okay, he was home. He was going to go to bed and- 

He wasn’t alone. 

Spencer was dressed in all black, a leather belt adorned with a gold belt buckle being the only color his outfit brought. He wore tiny devil’s ears upon his head, the headband pushing down on the mop of curls that sat atop his head. He looked absolutely delicious, if I must say myself, and it seemed the woman in his arms would agree with me. 

He practically pulled her into his apartment, kicking his door in with his leg before slightly fumbling with the lock. As soon as the mechanism slipped into place, his hands were all over her, pressing her flush against his body, as if he couldn’t bear to have any space between them. 

For all the time I’d been watching him, none of his behavior indicated the presence of any kind of significant other, so this girl must be a stranger. If this is how Spencer treated strangers though, I was surprised he didn’t have a barrage of women lining up at his door every night. 

His lips absolutely devoured the girl, his hand cradling the side of her face, before his thigh slipped in between her legs, possibly to soothe a building ache that had built up there in the time they’d spent together, which I found entirely possible, considering I, personally, was heated from simply watching. 

I watched the pixels on the screen with such precision, innocuous shades of red, green and blue painting the most sinful of images. I found myself noting the way his hand snuck up the girls’ dress, the way her breathing hitched as she pulled back, watching as Spencer presumably played with her clit. I could feel myself squeezing my thighs together, recognizing just how wrong it was to be turned on by the scene in front of me, but I couldn’t stop myself. It wasn’t as if this was the first time a target had behaved sexually in front of me. (Or in front of the camera, I suppose.) I’d seen and heard just about anything you could think of, but this was different- in a way. To see Spencer so filthy, so confident, so- interesting. It lit a fire in me that burned with every passing moment he touched this girl. 

I’m able to watch him circle over her panties in a way that has her groaning directly into his ear, a smug grin plastering his face as he watches her every reaction. 

“Like that?” He murmurs, and I’ve never heard his voice so fucking deep.

She nods frantically, and it only serves to widen his grin. I can feel myself rocking slightly in my own chair, doing anything to try and soothe the fast growing arousal within me, unable to stop from imagining myself in her place. His hands, the feel of hot breath down my neck- 

I’m stopped dead in my tracks, however, when his eyes suddenly shift to the camera closest to him, his eyebrow raising, as if in challenge. He continues to whisper in the girl’s ear, and has the galls to wink. I’m horrified, a very sudden and intense heat rising to my cheeks. I can only watch for a second more, before he’s suddenly pulling her away, and I realize he’s taken her  within one of the only blind spots within the apartment. 

I’m scrambling to turn off the feed, stunned into silence whilst, my heart beating uncontrollably and eccentrically. Oh god. He knew. He knew and he did that?! 

I stare into the empty space, a multitude of thoughts inhabiting my brainscape. On one hand, the aplomb shown in that situation was commendable, since most people would react to the knowledge that they’d been secretly watched in their own home for the past few months in a much more hostile way. On the other hand, how did he even acquire that knowledge? The cameras were virtually undetectable, and he’d never let on that he was aware of their presence, and I’d know, considering how closely I’d watched him. 

I shake off the thoughts, focusing on something other than the overwhelming mortification coursing through me now.  

Alright, tomorrow, get into his apartment, remove the cameras, and hopefully never have to look at the man again. In any capacity, honestly. 

When daylight broke, I turned on the cameras for the final time, a bit more sheepish, knowing he was aware of the devices plaguing his home. However, it seemed like he was once again pretending like he wasn’t aware of the looming existence of them, sending his female companion off her merry way once they woke up, before going about his normal routine, heading out of the apartment for what was most likely his morning coffee and then afternoon lecture at the university. 

That was my cue. I turned off the cameras,  quickly making my way out to sneak into his residence, the heavy door offering little resistance to my advances, my movements quiet and undetectable. 

I’m  in the process of removing the final camera I had placed in his bedroom, hidden behind a copy of  The Sign of Four. Doyle. He had good taste, I could give him that. 

I’m just about to turn around and get the hell out of there, when I hear a voice behind me. 

“I noticed that one first, you know.”

I turn around slowly, embarrassed and slightly fearful to find Spencer’s eyes meeting mine. I’d watched him for so long, but seeing him now– his eyes were so beautiful. The camera didn’t do him justice.

He continues, despite the silence. “The other ones were harder to spot, I’ll give you that, but once I knew where they were, it was a bit obvious, don’t you think?” 

I’m speechless. My mouth is agape, and all he seems to do is smile at my lack of prose. 

“Don’t look so surprised. I know this apartment. I’m not here a lot, but I spend enough time to know when things have been shifted around.” His tone is cheeky, and he pauses, almost theatrically to add on:

“I’m sure you knew that though.”  His smile turns into more of a smirk. 

God, did he have to be so hot?

“Are you going to complain to the Bureau?” I manage out, keeping my eyes steady on him. 

“Did you find anything of note to tell them?” He responds, tilting his head with curiosity. 

I shake my head vehemently. “No, um. Nothing pertinent to say.” I get my words out in a hurry, my gaze continually trained on him. 

He meets my eyes with the same stare. “Then I don’t have much of a reason to complain.” 

I nod solemnly. I’m wondering where this situation will lead- what either of our next moves are. Before I can ponder long though, he surprises me and takes a step closer.

“I saw you, you know.” He says. “Thought I was going insane when the same pretty girl kept showing up at the bookstore and coffee shop out of the blue, but I’ve never been one to believe in coincidences.” 

“Oh.” I whisper. I really wasn’t as good as I thought I was. 

“You really shouldn’t beat yourself up.” He says, chuckling with some mirth. “Again, I’m observant. I notice these things. That, and you’re pretty.” He says, forward. “So, more of a reason to notice.” 

“Oh.” I reply, yet again, dumbfounded by the events currently transpiring. 

“Yes, oh.” He chuckles, before he starts to move closer yet again. “Tell me. Were you watching last night?” He murmurs, his voice dropping a bit deeper as he directly addresses the elephant in the room. 

I give a movement of affirmation, because at this point, what could he do? What could I do? 

“So you saw.” He mumbles, moving to position himself right in front of me, his eyes darkened and laser focused on my figure. 

“Yes.” I whisper, my voice hushed as our proximity decreased, his breath fanning out over my face now. I’d be uncomfortable, if I wasn’t so distracted. 

“Tell me.” He whispers, letting his calloused finger finally touch my skin, running down my neck. “Did it turn you on? Watching me with her?” 

I feel the familiar heat of embarrassment rise to my cheeks, my eyes suddenly widening not only due to the sudden proximity, but also the scandalous nature of his words. Did he mean for me to watch? Was that his plan all along? What was this sick and twisted game he was playing?

“Did it.. get you off?” He whispers, his lips leaning in to kiss lightly at the side of my neck where his finger once was. 

I freeze, leaning into his touch and going statue-like all at once. I can’t help the shakiness of my voice when I reply. “I.. wasn’t neutral.” 

“Mm.” He murmurs, kissing now at my jawline. “Did you get off? When she did?” He whispers.

“I didn’t watch that long.” I reply, helplessly, as I feel his hands start to envelop my waist, pulling me closer to him. 

“What a shame.” He mumbles. “I think you would’ve liked the show. I did it for you.” 

At this point, I can barely speak, a slight moan escaping me instead of a coherent reply as his lips continue to leave warm, wet kisses on the expanse of my flesh. 

“I’m sure you’re curious.” He says, his voice soft and seductive. “Would you like me to show you what we did?”

There’s no hesitation, finally, a resounding thought I can translate from brain-to-mouth for him, in complete certainty.

“Yes.” I manage out, breathlessly. 

He makes a noise of satisfaction, quickly pushing me onto the bed. 

“I’d already gotten her wet by touching her before, but if my suspicions are correct.” He murmurs, his hands working deftly to undo my jeans and feel the wetness that had accumulated in between my thighs. “You already are.” He finishes. 

I let out a small whimper as his fingers touch the heated flesh, unable to help my sensitivity to his small, calculated strokes over my clit through my underwear. His fingers starts to move a bit more aggressively, upon feeling the wet patch that had formed there, the flimsy fabric doing little to hide the stickiness he was now collecting on his fingers. He quickly pulls them off as well though, bringing his slightly damp fingers to his mouth, tasting the hint of my arousal that had accumulated there. His eyes were dark, watching my face for any reaction, and in that moment, I know all he can see is pure want. 

I can see the same hunger within his eyes, and I feel a rush of pride as the approval radiates off of him. 

“What next?” I whisper, already desperate for his next slew of ministrations. I don’t care how needy I looked. I was needy. I’d spent so long watching him, and now he was here.

“She wanted my mouth.” He murmurs, kneeling at the edge of the bed. His thumb brushes over my clit, his tongue running against plump, pink lips, wetting them, watching over me with a predatory gaze. 

Before I can respond, he’s suddenly everywhere, ducking his head and allowing his tongue to brush over my sex in broad, wet strokes. My response is immediate, my hips bucking up to meet him in a frenzied motion. It seems that he relishes in whatever control he can have in this situation, because he quickly holds down my hips in a firm grip, squeezing the fat there while he continued to ravage me. 

I can barely look at him, pretty brown locks splayed in his face, his lips moving hypnotically against my cunt. Little whimpers escape me, absolutely aching for more. He seems to catch on, and flicks his tongue over me, before suckling against my clit. It’s wet, messy, and the picture of debauchery– and it’s enough to drive me over the edge, my hands gripping the sheets as I cry out his name. 

He seems to be unaffected, getting off his knees, his mouth glistening with my release. The sight makes me wish he could do it again, but before I can get a word in, he’s positioning himself over me, caging me against the bed. 

“Then I fucked her.” He whispers, starting to undo his belt with his free hand. “Can I?” 

I nod, feeling a wave of anticipation, before registering the sensation of the head of his cock nudging my entrance. I feel my chest tighten, watching him with bated breath, absolutely exhilarated. 

“Relax.” He whispers, kissing the lobe of my ear. “You’re in good hands.” 

He utters the last word, before sliding into me, a hushed gasp leaving the both of us. He groans in pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the feel of my warm, wet cunt around him. He takes a moment, before he’s setting a steady pace, his hips bucking rhythmically into me in a way that’s designed to bring us both so much pleasure. 

I can’t help the string of moans that come out with every slide of his cock inside me, my legs wrapping around his waist, urging him closer than he already is. My hands grip onto his shirt, clawing onto the fabric to find any purchase, wanting– no, needing him on me. 

Is it odd to wish a stranger could crawl into your skin itself? 

“Fuck, Spencer.” I moan, unabashedly. “You feel so good.”

“You do too.” He groans, his arms braced on either side of my head before gently lowering himself to crash his lips against mine in a messy kiss. 

I can feel myself barreling towards release, as is he, if the twitch of his cock inside me were to mean anything. It’s not long before his hand reaches in between where our bodies are met, rubbing my clit in fast, small circles. It’s intense in the best way possible, my body barely being able to process how good it felt in the moment. 

“Come for me.” He moans, in between kisses. “Wanna feel you around me. Please.”

I can’t help but obey his words, my cunt convulsing around him in obedience as he subsequently finds his release inside me, groaning loudly as his hips thrust erratically. 

He pulls out, and we’re a tangle of limbs, sweaty and sated, breathing heavy. 

Of course, it’s him, yet again, to break the silence. 

“Two things.” He mumbles, breathlessly. 

“Mm.” I reply, weakly, my head a mess of airiness and complacency after the orgasm he’d just brought me to. 

“One. I want your name.” He says, rolling to his side to get a better look at my face. 

“That can be arranged.” I murmur, nodding dreamily. 

“Second.” He whispers, kissing my cheek. His voice takes on a teasing quality to it, before leaning to brush his lips against my ear.  

“You missed a camera. Behind the plant. They don’t stop recording, do they?” 

okay wowww. clearly this was meant for halloween, if you couldn't tell! this is one of those pieces where i'm like.. hmm .. do i like this? question mark? do i want to put it out? hmm .. but regardless, i hope you guys enjoyed it!! please, please like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed!!! it is sooo important as an author that i get some feedback and know what you guys think, in any capacity. i truly appreciate all of it <33 thank you for reading, thank you for everything!!!

[starcurtain]

Some Notes on Mydei's Characterization (Part 1)

I'm already tired of seeing Mydei slander (if I have to read "He's a brawn over brains berserker who just cares about fighting" one more time, I might actually die), so I thought I'd put together some quick notes on what canon has to say about Mydei's character. Please note this post contains only my own interpretations of canon material; not everyone will interpret scenes in the same manner.

Starting with some of the most off-base stuff I've seen first:

1. Being Capable of Violence is Not the Same as Being Violent

Mydei's trailer and his role in the story both confirm that he is capable of extreme acts of violence. When it comes to battle, multiple people--Eurypon and Phainon, for example--refer to Mydei specifically as a "beast," rather than a person. In his character stories, we're told that he was such a ferocious predator in the Sea of Souls that even monsters stopped coming near him, and in another of his character stories, he's described as tearing the throat out of an opposing enemy who had an army a thousand men strong. It is a basic and unavoidable fact of Mydei's character that he is capable not only of killing but of killing in egregiously brutal ways, literally tearing his enemies apart with his bare hands.

Mydei will fight, he will cause harm, and he will kill--whenever it is necessary to do so.

But there is an extreme world of difference between being capable of violence and actually being a violent person, and Mydei has shown, in both word and deed, that he is an inherently gentle character who, if given the option, would prefer to choose the path of least harm.

Over and over, the devs hit us players with the idea that Mydei's actual nature is one that abhors needless violence. We see this from his first character story, where Mydei--despite being thrown into the Sea of Souls as an infant, despite fighting every single day of his childhood just to survive--is described as saving drowning fishermen with no reward. Even the author of the legend points out the incongruity of this choice, saying "Why would a Kremnoan ever bother to save others?"

Remember that this is a Mydei who has had literally no human contact. He has no frame of reference for even the concept of generosity. If we take his story seriously, then despite being effectively feral at this point in time, his innate reaction to seeing others in danger was simply to provide aid. Even when his own survival was the only thing he had experience with, he still chose to selflessly save others, with no motivation other than the fact that benevolence appears to be his core nature.

Reinforcing this idea that Mydei is an inherently gentle person, there's the memory in Castrum Kremnos where an unknown someone asks Mydei what his dream is, with the only acceptable options being different combat roles. But Mydei's answers are charmingly abstract instead--young Mydei doesn't want to be a soldier and bring harm to others, he wants to be a wanderer or even a "beam of light."

(Saw some interesting talk linking this "beam of light" with Kephale recently too. I'm very interested to see whether the upcoming patches will tie these connections together or if we're all just reading too much into things lolol.)

3.0's plot hammered this home as well, with Mydei continually disputing Aglaea's mission requests; Aglaea says that sending too many Chrysos Heirs to fight Nikador would be a waste (in case they end up dying), to which Mydei responds that there's no point in needlessly risking people's lives.

Even the 3.0 side quests repeat this message, with one Kremnoan NPC, Aelius, noting that an assassin tried to murder him on his first day in Okhema. Instead of responding with force, as might be justified by the severity of the crime, Mydei--brand-new to Okhema and their ways himself!--still chose diplomacy, and went to the Council of Okhema to legally ensure the Kremnoan people's safety, instead of directly seeking vengeance.

Even a small scene in Kremnos's ruins gives the devs an opportunity to show that Mydei prefers to exhibit aggression only when threatened first: As the Trailblazer and Co. wander through the Soul-Forging Zone, the group meets a half-crazed titankin. Obviously it poses a danger and could become a more serious threat in an instant, but Mydei doesn't offer it any resistance. It isn't violent with him, so he has no reason or motivation to be violent with it... as opposed to Phainon, whose first reaction is immediately to attack.

(If you choose to kill it, by the way, Mydei scolds Phainon and the Trailblazer, effectively calling them bloodthirsty executioners...)

When Krateros attempts to manipulate Mydei using Mydei's mother's wishes, urging him to continue the cycle of domination in Kremnos, Mydei stops him cold by pointing out that (like Mydei who inherited her beliefs) he knows Gorgo was opposed to violence for violence's sake:

Then, of course, there's the entire deal about refusing the crown of Kremnos, breaking his people's endless cycle of violent lives and even more violent deaths and repeatedly refusing Nikador's power because Mydei had no desire to become Strife. Despite revering his people's god for what Nikador was supposed to be--the guardian who sacrificed everything to protect Amphoreus--the game repeatedly tells us that Mydei sees Kremnos's cultural tradition of conquest as a meaningless waste of life, glorifying cruelty for no reason and bringing nothing but harm to the Kremnoans and Amphoreus as a whole.

Mydei fought hard to not become the demigod of Strife. At every turn, he was pressured and manipulated by others against his expressly stated wishes, and ultimately was left with no choice but to accept the destiny forced upon him despite clearly longing for a different, gentler life. Although I'll talk more about this later, the fact that Mydei even went so far as to change his name among the Chrysos Heirs shows us just how intensely he was trying to separate himself from his own past and from Kremnos's bloody history. Mydei wanted to be a person, yet in the end, he was forced back into being a beast, into becoming the symbol of violence, the very thing that took everything good from his life.

(This isn't a shipping post, but Phainon's efforts to take on Nikador's coreflame can be read to at least some extent as a rescue attempt--despite himself believing that Mydei was the better fit for Strife, Phainon saw how sincerely Mydei did not want to take the coreflame trial, and at least in small part, Phainon did take on the trial to spare Mydei from that inevitability. Personally, I think this failure will eventually be one of the linchpins that brings Amphoreus crumbling down, because Phainon was supposed to be everyone's hero, but just like Cyrene, he failed to save Mydei.)

I've seen some people debating this idea that Mydei is not a violent person by pointing out that Phainon calls him "reckless when he gets the urge to kill." In 3.0, Phainon implies that Mydei could even hurt other people with his recklessness in battle. But... we have never seen Mydei ever bring any harm in battle to someone he didn't intend to hurt. No one innocent ever gets injured in-game by Mydei (at least so far...), and we have no indications at any point that Mydei would intentionally endanger others out of recklessness. In fact, even in their first scene, it's Mydei who scolds Phainon for being careless during battle.

For example, Mydei's first reaction to confronting Nikador was to immediately remove Phainon and the Trailblazer from the fight so that they wouldn't come to harm. Even inside the coreflame trial, while the power of Strife was driving Phainon mad, Mydei was still level-headed enough to rally the Trailblazer and Dan Heng and get Phainon out safe. Mydei was still rational enough to even recognize the Okhemans inside the illusion and say "This isn't who these people really are; they're being twisted by Nikador."

Is this really the behavior of a reckless person who loses his sense of reason in battle?

To be honest, players should take most of what Phainon actually says about Mydei with a grain of salt. Phainon, especially during 3.0, doesn't actually know Mydei's whole story (for one, he has a foot in mouth moment in 3.0 where he tells Mydei to make more friends, only to then find out in 3.1 that Mydei had more friends; they just all died), and we know that Phainon often exaggerates Mydei in many ways when talking to others. Mydei may be reckless in battle--but his recklessness almost certainly centers on himself, being willing to risk his own life, rather than others'. This is echoed again in his "Keeping Up With Star Rail" video, where Phainon comments on Mydei's complete lack of self-defense once he enters battle. While Phainon might think Mydei's lack of attention to his own pain is worth calling out, it isn't a sign that Mydei is genuinely a mindless berserker.

I've also seen people debating this point by saying that Mydei appears to go "crazy" in battle and starts grinning when he gets a battle high. But as for Mydei's smiling in battle, we really only see it three times: 1) When Phainon first returns to Okhema, 2) When Mydei finally engages in solo combat with Nikador, and 3) When engaged in solo combat after all his allies in the coreflame trial already "died."

Again, this isn't a shipping post, so write the first smile for Phainon off as you choose--maybe Mydei's just excited to have the opportunity to flex in front of his "rival." The other two smiles are admittedly a bit unhinged, but I'd argue that neither of these moments represents actual enjoyment of battle. Instead, both of these smiles occur only inside the overwhelming pall of Nikador's power, which we're told canonically infects the mind with a desire for bloodshed. More importantly, both of these instances also take place when Mydei is only fighting titankin, not human opponents, and only after Mydei has been left entirely alone, when he is certain that the only person at risk in the fight is himself. When Mydei can confirm that there's no one left to defend (or left for him to lose!), then and only then does he give in to Nikador's violence for violence's sake and engage in battle whole-heartedly.

tl;dr: Mydei was the crowned leader of a culture that glorified cruelty, death, and mindless brutality. He was forced into a life of violence where he had to fight tooth and nail for survival from virtually the moment of his birth. Everyone he ever loved died worshiping a god that used their souls as nothing but fodder for further meaningless destruction. Yet Mydei was doing everything he could to rise above that life, and to help others also rise above that life. Of course he fights when he must, but reveling in it? I don't really see the evidence.

My man did not tear down a dynasty, breaking a thousand years' cycle of pointless strife, to get hit with the "He's a battle junkie" allegations. I swear to god I will bite the next person who says it--

2. His Reputation as Quick-Tempered is a Front

While it's typically not Mydei's fans going around saying Mydei's just another "battle-obsessed manly man," there is a different stereotype I actually do see being perpetrated by self-proclaimed Mydei fans: It seems to be a common trend in fanfics and fanarts to write Mydei with a strong temper, showing him becoming very aggressive when annoyed and suggesting that his first resort in difficult situations is always brute force.

To be fair, I think this is influenced by a number of factors, not the least of which is the game itself playing with this idea as a joke. In Mydei's "Keeping Up With Star Rail" video, Phainon playfully reduces Mydei to the quick-tempered brute stereotype, saying things like:

Phainon also brings this up at other points, such as suggesting that Mydei would only need one try to solve the puzzle in Janusopolis because his method of solving it would be... to just punch his way through.

But again, please take the things Phainon says about Mydei with a grain of salt. Roasting your friends for fun is simply a given, and I think that Phainon's comments about Mydei are meant to be understood as playful banter about his "rival," not serious analysis of Mydei's temperament (which really doesn't align with the stereotype of a hot-head at all).

Complicating this whole situation is the English voiceover, where it is clear the voice director encouraged Mydei's English VA to portray Mydei as particularly gruff and worked up in many of his lines. I have nothing against the English VA at all, but the voice direction of the English version clearly missed the mark on Mydei's character and went for a more aggressive vibe than any of the game's other languages. (The whole thing reminds of me Ray Chase not being given proper direction on Neuvillette's character at first and dramatically changing his voice acting over the course of Fontaine's patches.) I don't mean that English Mydei is never gentle, but that many of the lines are delivered with a level of vitriol that is not suited to the scene at all nor present in other languages. (Compare this line delivery in English with the same line in Chinese, for just one example.) The English interpretation of the character is strongly colored by this strange directing decision ("Mydei should be actively angry in many of his scenes"), unfortunately.

Complicating the whole situation even further is fandom's habit of reducing characters to flat caricatures because making funny meme art and exaggerating character traits for comedic effect is so common. (And enjoyable, don't get me wrong lol.) There is a well-loved relationship dynamic of "the grumpy one with the sunshine one," and I think unfortunately Mydei and Phainon are getting this treatment in fandom quite a bit: Phainon is depicted as the exuberant, happy puppy, while Mydei is the angry, bristling cat. It just makes sense when we consider cliches, right? The muscle-bound warrior dude will obviously be a cranky, easily angered hot-head, no? To a certain extent, I understand why fans jump to that conclusion and take that route in their fanworks; it's definitely easier to depict the characters with these kinds of shorthand tropes than to encompass their complicated personalities in every art or fic.

But the problem is... in-game Mydei is really not much like fanon Mydei, at least where tempers are concerned.

Repeatedly, the game tells us that Mydei keeps a level head even in situations of extreme pressure, and that he prefers to use communication, rather than force, to try to resolve the conflicts he encounters. Going back to some examples I've already mentioned: In the ruins of Kremnos, he's the first to suggest communicating with the titankin and the first to suggest that there's no reason to use violence against them. In 3.0, a scene lots of people say shows Mydei's "bloodlust," where he confronts Nikador and claims he has an intent to kill, actually starts with the line: "All that anger and regret I feel right now, I've learned to control them".

In Okhema, when the Kremnoans were facing assassination attempts, Mydei handled the situation legally, within the confines of Okhema's clearly ridiculous bureaucracy, to ensure that the Kremnoan people would be able to live within the city. In 3.1, when Krateros wants to lose the Okheman guards that are trailing them, Mydei defers to Krateros's lead, asking him if they should use force on the guards and only complying when he says yes.

In fanarts, it's common to draw Phainon doing something silly, with a 💢grumpy Mydei💢 barely tolerating it. But... in game, Mydei actually tends to weather Phainon's teasing without that much issue, often playing along readily and teasing back or simply not rising to the bait at all, sometimes giving him a flat response that actually irritates Phainon instead.

Even when Phainon lobbies some of his snappiest jests (the line about Mydei not being able to write comes to mind), Mydei's strongest reaction is usually "Why are you stupid?" and then he moves on. He's not out here roaring like an angry lion or flipping a table every time someone is a bit obnoxious in his general vicinity. Mydei's mostly chill with the silliness, guys. He's sometimes silly back.

And even in the moments where he should be his angriest, such as the day he avenged his mother by killing his father, Mydei tends to respond to pressure and even cruel provocation with level-headed answers, coldly telling Eurypon just how pointless the entire crown of Kremnos was. Krateros insults Mydei specifically for choosing communication as his conflict resolution strategy. Like, how did people decide Mydei would be an easily provoked hot-head when his own mentor insults him for trying to solve Kremnos's problems using words instead of action?

Perhaps one of the only occasions in the game where we actually see Mydei genuinely lash out in anger is the moment with Tribbie, where she tells him not to worry for Phainon. Mydei responds harshly--but then immediately walks his words back, explicitly notes that his single sharp answer was rude, and apologizes.

But what I haven't seen anyone discuss is that fact that Mydei had every right to be angry at Tribbie here. In the prior scene, Aglaea literally belittled and pressured him into taking on the Strife coreflame following Phainon's failure, and Mydei knew in this scene that Tribbie was fully aware of Aglaea's plan to manipulate Mydei using Phainon.

Again, not a shipping post, but Tribbie daring to go "Aw, don't be worried" rightttt after that concern for his friend was weaponized against Mydei to deny him his agency? A direct slap in the face. Aglaea--with Tribbie as her willing accomplice--knowingly put Phainon's very life at risk to entrap Mydei and force him to take on a role he was rejecting with every fiber of his being. After deliberately using Phainon as a tool, for Tribbie to have the audacity to say "You shouldn't worry about him" was actually pretty vile.

And yet it's Mydei who apologizes. It's Mydei who reins in any hint of frustration and tries to approach the situation politely, as if the person he is talking to hadn't literally just doomed him to an entire future of misery by using the safety of one of his only remaining friends as leverage. The achievement you get just before this moment, "Sing, O Goddess, of His Rage," suggests that Mydei truly is rightfully furious about this situation--but in the end, Mydei still forgives both Tribbie and Aglaea without hesitation, because he knows the importance of the Flame-Chase Journey and of following the prophecy at all cost.

Does this really strike us as someone who flies off the handle at minor annoyances, someone who is brash or easily riled up, someone who resorts to punching his way through all his problems?

Despite appearances, I think it would be more accurate to say that Mydei's temper runs pretty even and that he is actually difficult to provoke to genuine anger. There are times where we see him truly furious (when he confronts Nikador about the honorless scheme to attack Okhema, when he confronts his father, etc.), but in every situation where Mydei is angry, it's because the anger is absolutely justified, because something truly unforgivable is happening to him or those he's sworn to protect.

Mydei's suffered just about every manner of injustice it is possible for a person to suffer, and yet he soldiers on without making his suffering other people's concern. He apologizes for even minor outbursts, despite his feelings of outrage clearly being righteous. In some cases, we might even read him as a little passive aggressive instead--the fact that Phainon's food is nasty whenever he really annoys Mydei and yet he has no idea why the food is bad is a hilarious hint that Mydei's definitely more of a "revenge is a dish best served cold" kind of person than a hot-head.

So what about that moment early on, where Mydei uses the threat of violence to silence Verax Leo?

Well, no Verax Leos were harmed, so? Ha, being serious, I actually think this moment should be better understood as the player's first real insight into Mydei's character, separate from Phainon's colorful commentary.

This moment tells us one thing really clearly about Mydei: He's self-aware. Mydei knows the Verax Leos are literally cowardly lions, and he knows they think he's scary. He's aware of his own reputation as a "beast," and he isn't above utilizing that reputation to achieve a goal if doing so will produce a greater good for others. Without even needing to resort to any actual attack, Mydei is able to silence the Verax Leo's rumor-mongering using just the threat of his capacity for violence.

This suggests to the player that Mydei is actually discerning, straight to the point but intelligent enough to tailor his actions to the level of response that is appropriate for a given situation. He's not a "go in fists blazing right from the start" kind of guy when that's not what's needed. He could easily just punch the lion off the wall--but he doesn't. He lets his words doing the threatening, instead of his fists. (The fact that this particular Verax Leo was apparently helping to slander Kremnoans the week before and still lived to spread rumors about March tells us how disinclined Mydei is to solve his daily problems with actual violence.)

The takeaway is that Mydei's angry reputation among Okhemans, but hell, also among players(!), is largely fueled by stereotypes more than by any real actions on Mydei's part. People expect him to be a quick-tempered brute, so that's what they see, even when Mydei's real actions don't lend themselves to that cliche much.

Yet Mydei is also self-aware enough to know that same crude reputation is a powerful tool. It benefits him for certain groups to be very afraid of him, and this leads to an interesting conflict in the character: On the one hand, Mydei wants to distance himself from Kremnos's violence. He renames himself, swears allegiance to Aglaea's cause of hope, and spends his free time in Okhema doing gentle things like taking part in cooking competitions, playing house with kids, and judging drama festivals. More on this in a bit, but I think it's very interesting that not a single one of his marketing or promotional materials--nor any of his scenes in the game itself--show him willingly spending his free time on martial pursuits. (The animation they gave us was Mydei playing with children, not sparring with Phainon or even training with his dedicated warrior brothers-in-arms.) Mydei clearly wants to be seen and relate to others as a person separate from his bloodstained past.

On the other hand, his reputation as a terrifying warrior is one of the only things allowing him to live his current life. It's only as the to-be "blood-crowned" king of Kremnos that the Kremnoans willingly follow him and respect what he has to say. His ability to decide their futures hinges on them continuing to perceive him as Mydeimos, their undying lion of conquest. His only use to Aglaea and the Flame-Chase Journey is as the future manifestation of Strife or as an expendable resource that can be thrown single-handedly at enemies because he's the only one that can take their punishment and keep kicking. His place in Okhema is only secure so long as the Okhemans continue to fear his might, their discrimination kept at bay only by the knowledge that none of them can come close to defeating the Kremnoans if it came to blows. His reputation in Okhema is secure only so long as he can continue to cow the Verax Leos into silence with threats of retaliation.

Mydei doesn't have any attachment to his image as a monster--and yet his situation will not allow him to let it go. As much as he would like to live a different life, the view that others have of him--that he is an angry, savage person who is barely restraining an innate violent nature--is a shield locked in his hand, protecting him and making it possible to keep going--even when all he really wants to do is stop.

So, long story longer: I don't think Mydei has an especially hot temper at all; he's lived an incredibly hard life and had every one of his hopes and dreams systemically stripped away from him. He's under constant and immense pressure and feels entirely alone in bearing his burdens. His frustration occasionally bubbling to the surface--for which he apologizes--is not only justified but honestly still shockingly under-stated. If I was in his situation, a whole lot more heads would have rolled.

And now, a few less important notes to round this post out because I can already tell I'm going to hit tumblr's image limit before I run out of things to say about Mydei, so:

3. He's Not a Dumb Jock or Actually that Fitness Obsessed

This one is kind of annoying because Mydei's marketing materials like to play with the "dumb jock" trope as a joke. As mentioned before, we have Phainon's humorous "If you want wisdom, he's got might" line, Mydei being terrible at math (to the point even the Trailblazer assumes they'd be better at math than Mydei), the implication that Mydei is so straightforward he would miss deceptions from those speaking in ill faith (like during the Verax Leo's riddles), and of course, the overwhelmingly common stereotype of gym bros caring more about their muscles than their brains...

But the game also goes out of its way, repeatedly, to emphasize that just as Mydei doesn't fit the stereotype of the savage warrior, he also doesn't fit the stereotype of brawn over brains, of focusing more on physical prowess than thought.

Mydei being bad at math is played for laughs, sure, but in the same breath we're also told that he's a better student of history than Phainon is (which loops back into ironic when you remember that Phainon loves history and clearly wants to be good at it).

Mydei is one of the game's only confirmed bilingual characters outside of the Genius Society, despite the fact that, if his backstory is to be believed, he would have spent the most formative years of his childhood entirely language-less, and even after leaving the Sea of Souls, would likely not have attended any form of formal schooling. He never went to the Grove like Phainon and Castorice, yet he's capable not only of speaking and reading in multiple languages, but also of translating even archaic variations of his native tongue, enough so that (according to his marketing), being an archaic Kremnoan language mentor is one of his official titles.

He's also one of the characters most strongly associated with reading in the entire game, via the library, his canonically stated ability to interpret poetry, his character stories all being texts... All the other characters associated as strongly with reading as Mydei in the game are regarded as "nerds": Ratio, Dan Heng, Pela... Somehow critical portions of Mydei's character can be oriented around literature and he still gets hit with the dumb jock label???

He's also an accomplished military strategist capable of commanding the respect of seasoned veterans as well as waging effective war campaigns against enemy nations with a marginal, aging army and virtually no resources... He's capable of playing Aglaea's and Okhema's political games, despite having obvious disdain for such things... In fact, in Mydei's goodbye to Aglaea, he speaks to her as one nation's leader to another, remarking on how he's learned valuable lessons in managing his people from her, and specifically highlighting that her trait he most admires--what is missing from his own people's history--is her ability to instill genuine hope in others.

But yeah, Mydei is dumb muscle because it's funny, I guess.

What makes the whole "jock" thing loop around into doubly ironic (and also sad) is that although Mydei's character does involve a strong emphasis on health and fitness, the way it's framed in his marketing versus his actual in-game character is extremely different. Mydei's marketing is all about combat, how he's a "fitness ambassador," and "performance enhancers aren't in the Kremnoan language."

But in game Mydei...?

He doesn't have anything particularly unique to teach Phainon. There isn't any special "extreme Mydei training regimen" above what the other Kremnoan soldiers do, a fact we can confirm with the bath NPC Peleus, who tells us that Mydei has taught him his training regimen, and it's just the "Kremnoan traditional exercises" (the high-altitude shuttle run, firewalking, etc.). This idea that Mydei isn't devoting himself to constantly improving his ~super special combat capability~ is also reiterated in Mydei's marketing when someone tries to scam Okhemans by selling a secret "Mydei combat move" and Mydei is just like "There's no such thing..."

Yes, this is me telling you that the fanon thing where Mydei is all about hitting the arena to beat the crap out of challengers every single day is probably not that lore accurate. Yes, of course Mydei spars and keeps up with his strict exercise routine, but combat training doesn't actually seem to be his favorite hobby. In the game, Phainon is definitely worked up about wanting to spar and practice together, but Mydei's attitude to the idea of training with Phainon seems closer to "Please... be more chill..."

Just as an example, at possibly the most plot relevant time ever to suggest a spirit-raising spar with his "bro," the ideas that instead come to Mydei's mind for working out Phainon's disappointment are...

All gentle socializing.

In fact, although Mydei's marketing hyper-emphasized the "fitness" shtick, we never actually see Mydei sparring or training with anyone in any of his mainstream marketing materials or in game. (I'd say we don't even see him fitness training at all, but hey, they did add one chat sticker where he has a weight lol.)

Although we're informed repeatedly that Mydei's a fitness junkie, what his marketing and in-game free time scenes actually show us are, uhhhh *checks notes* sleeping in, taking long baths, eating pancakes, singing around the campfire with his band of bros, people watching, and babysitting? It's the life he truly deserves.

Again, this isn't to say Mydei doesn't train (obviously you don't look like that without putting in massive effort!), but both promotional materials and the scenes chosen for characters in game are deliberately designed to highlight the most integral aspects of characters' personalities. Mydei surely is exercising hard to keep up his health off-screen--but by de-emphasizing that in what the game actually visually shows us players, the only obvious conclusion is that other things (food, playing with children, spending time with comrades) are much more important to Mydei than just getting swole. Out of the "warrior" type characters we have in Star Rail, Mydei is one of the least pumped up about sparring that we've seen. From what we're actually given in game, Yanqing is infinitely more gung-ho about combat training than Mydei is.

In fact, rather than exercise itself, I'd say more of Mydei's "fitness" focus in game comes from his connection to food, and--perhaps this is me reading into things a bit too much (but that's my job, you know)--I'd argue that Mydei's repeated emphasis on eating healthy is actually a thinly-veiled trauma response to his childhood experiences with starvation.

We're told that, in the Sea of Souls, he fed on the raw flesh and bone of the abyssal monsters he fought--literally eat or be eaten--and could really only hold off the feeling of starving on the rare times that the tides were low and he could catch live shrimp instead. He also closely associates the Kremnoan Detachment, his only refuge, with the notion of comfort food.

And every time food is discussed, he's quick to tell others, even the Trailblazer, exactly what to add in order to make sure they're not only full but also eating a balanced meal that will keep them hale and whole. More than a gym bro, I think Mydei missed his calling as a nutritionist.

Long story longer, Mydei has never had a time where he could go without fighting. For virtually all of his life, at least until he reached Okhema, fighting was all he ever knew. Would he even really need much extra fitness training when his entire existence is a constant stream of battles, of pushing his body to its limits over and over again? He's been "working out" since he was literally an infant, with no down time, and even in relatively peaceful Okhema, a Chrysos Heir's duty to battle never ends.

This is just my personal take on it, but I'm inclined to think that when he finds rare moments of peace, Mydei would probably prefer to do things other than fight, especially if it's something that allows him to provide for himself and others, helping his friends stay well, such as through cooking.

I think the in-game material does a great job of emphasizing that Mydei's definition of "fitness" doesn't necessarily focus foremost on being a gym bro/jock who hits the training field every five minutes--his definition of "health" and "wellness" have a lot to do with nourishing the spirit at the same time.

4. Mydei is Significantly Less Impulsive than Phainon

Okay, I can hear you--if Mydei's not a brute, and he's not a fiery temper, and he's not much of an actual gym bro, what is he?

Well, unfortunately I'm just here to tell you another thing he's not: He's not actually that proactive of a rival either.

Aglaea is quick to call Mydei and Phainon "impulsive youths," putting them on the same level in terms of childishness, but actuallyyy...

Despite the fact that Phainon likes to claim Mydei "taunts him every time they meet", every single actual competition we've ever seen between Mydei and Phainon was initiated 100% by Phainon, with Mydei just sort of getting swept up in Phainon's antics.

In their joint lightcone, it's Phainon who calls for the contest of speed. In Kremnos, it's Phainon who proposes the titankin killing competition. After the coreflame trial, it's Phainon who demands the hot bath challenge (and then lies and blames Mydei lol), and it's even Phainon who turns taking home the other affected bath patrons into a competition too, one in which Mydei flat out claims he wasn't even competing:

We're given several hints, particularly throughout 3.0, that Mydei and Phainon's prior missions were largely characterized by Phainon coming up with ridiculous plans, and Mydei mostly going "Welp, that sounds like it's going to get us killed, but okay I guess."

While Phainon is ready to go "Fuck it, we ball" and fight a titan to the death all by himself, Mydei spends the entire first part of 3.0 going "Hey, so, like, fighting Nikador without an army is a really dumbass decision, and we should probably not be attempting this."

(This moment is kind of less funny in retrospect when you rewatch it with the knowledge that Mydei knew they couldn't handle the fight, but Phainon was like "No, we totally got this, trust me bro!" Spoiler Alert: They did not have it. Literally all of Mydei's deaths in 3.0 happened because of his crippling inability to say no to Phainon. But this is not a shipping post. I promise.)

Anyway, in one of the only examples we have of Mydei possibly being impulsive on his own, the note from the bath manager that reports someone charging into the baths to ask who the strongest warrior in Okhema is, the actual implication is that Mydei had no idea how poorly the Okhemans would take that (nor their obsession with debate which would be sparked), and his faux pas comes less from being immature and more from the cultural discrepancy between Okhema and Kremnos, as the Kremnoan in the note finds Mydei's behavior perfectly normal.

In fact, instead of being an unruly youth, Mydei is criticized by other characters several times in the story specifically for choosing to hold back and think things through before committing himself to a decision. If anything, he's closer to indecisive (or at least slow to decide) than he is to impulsive.

Now, don't get me wrong. The game tells us repeatedly that Mydei does get competitive as hell once Phainon actually manages to convince him to join in on the shenanigans. Of course Mydei likes to win. But the notion that Mydei is Phainon's equally impulsive rival, actively issuing his own challenges, goading his frenemy into new contests, and particularly motivated to keep one-upping Phainon? It's really more of an informed trait and a fandom cliche (red and blue rivals, the people cannot resist) than anything actually shown in the game.

At the risk of perhaps inserting too much of my own interpretation here, I'm inclined to say that Mydei's willingness to engage in Phainon's dumb competitions is less brash rivalry and much closer to "Guy who never had the chance to be an impulsive youth cautiously allowing himself the privilege of feeling carefree for ten minutes or so."

It's not that Mydei is actually that driven to assert his dominance or is particularly impetuous when left to his own devices--it's that he never before had a long enough period of peace where he was safe enough to act childish. If he ever had competitions in his past, they almost certainly would have been like "Who can murder the most enemy soldiers with their bare hands today?" In Okhema, Mydei can participate in sauna-offs.

Mydei isn't as (deliberately performatively) silly as Phainon. He's nowhere near as impulsive as Phainon is. He's not really that fixated on being a rival. But he is a pretty great partner in crime. He does allow himself to be drawn into Phainon's schemes over and over, because well... they're obviously fun for him. He gets into the competitions once they're in motion, even if he complains about them at the start. Mydei's life has been criminally devoid of light-hearted joys and normalcy, and being led into trouble that doesn't result in people literally dying on him--harmless trouble--is probably an extreme novelty for Mydei. Basically what I'm saying is, he isn't going to propose the Jackass competition, but he is going to fold like paper the moment said competition is suggested.

Case in point: In 3.0, there's a second where you can actually hear him regretting his life choices, trying so hard to convince himself that he is above Phainon's weird antics, but... in the end, he can't help himself. When Phainon starts LARPing with the Trailblazer during the titankin competition, Mydei's first reaction is essentially "Oh my god, this is so cringe," but just two lines later... look who joins the LARPing.

This nerddddd.

When left alone, Mydei withdraws from the world. Trailblazer typically finds him locked in silent contemplation, rejecting visitors, up on his own private corner of the rooftops. On his own, Mydei is significantly less likely to seek out trouble, cause public disturbances, or become a (usually accidental) nuisance compared to half the other Chrysos Heirs.

But when the company around him makes him feel comfortable, he is willing to engage with life in the childish ways he was never free to before. His "rivalry" with Phainon is better understood not as a macho dude-bro need to assert superiority, but as just one of the most obvious manifestations of Mydei's desire to experience the life he never got to live, to let himself be the kind of person who can just do silly things and cause dumb messes.

Mydei isn't a particularly impulsive person--but sometimes he lets himself try it out. As a treat.

Okay, last note for now:

5. Mind Your Manners

While it might be tempting to see Phainon and Mydei's competitions as the peak of Mydei's comedic contribution in the story, I think the actual funniest aspect of Mydei's character is the game's running gag about his manners.

Yes, Castrum Kremnos is a savage nation that revels in death and is rumored to drink the blood of their enemies--but they still keep it classy, damn it! Sure Mydei might have grown up as a half-feral sea beast and then a homeless, wandering exile subsisting off the land, but sometimes he literally can't help it--the aristocracy just jumps right out of him.

No, I'm not joking. Mydei really does have the prim and proper manners of a blue-blooded royal.

We see this from his first appearance in the game. A character's first scene is generally their establishing moment, the devs' chance to give players a strong starting impression--which makes it so telling that one of the first things out of Mydei's mouth is a insult to Phainon's manners.

This is a direct and pointed critique, suggesting Phainon has neglected his duties as a host by relying on his "guests" as back up in the battle. In the context of Amphoreus's historical inspirations, this is actually a very serious scolding: hospitality was a big, big deal in ancient Greece, and the idea of forcing foreign guests into serving you before affording them proper welcome and rest, let alone actively endangering them, would literally be considered an affront to the gods.

With this one short line, the devs are impressing the extreme difference in social status between Mydei and Phainon: Phainon is effectively a "country bumpkin," a member of a lower class who doesn't know how to (or perhaps just doesn't care to?) properly practice the civil gestures of the upper rungs of Amphorean society. Mydei, on the other hand, not only knows the proper rituals of etiquette but expects those rituals to be upheld by others. He's basically calling Phainon a mannerless peasant in one of his first lines of dialogue, which is why Phainon gets so grumpy for the rest of the conversation lol.

We see Mydei's inclination towards proper decorum in several other places as well. As a prince, he's entitled to respect and deference, and while we might be inclined to say "Mydei isn't the type to enforce his royal status over others," the game itself shows us that... Mydei kind of does expect people to treat him differently.

Just as one small starting example, I know it's somewhat popular to have Mydei deny his royal status in fanfics, such as telling people not to call him by his titles or acting as if he has no connection to the upper class, but this doesn't actually happen in the game. Mydei introduces himself to the Trailblazer from the start as Castrum Kremnos's crown prince, consistently thinks of himself (such as in mission journal text) as a prince, and is largely referred to as "the crown prince" or "your highness" by everyone outside the Chrysos Heirs, including all of the Okhemans:

In fact, I'd go so far as to argue that Mydei takes his role as a prince very seriously and does not remotely deny the responsibility he bears toward his people. It's important to him to fulfill his duty to the Kremnoans, so rather than downplaying his role as their prince, he seems to acknowledge it freely, working to serve as a principled leader as best he can.

In short, Mydei is aware of his status--and he expects everyone else will be aware of it too.

I don't mean this in a bad way at all; he's not rude or pompous about it--rather, I think this is a subconscious aspect of his character. Mydei has spent many of his formative years with his people putting him on a ridiculously tall pedestal. He's spent at least a decade as the leader of a group that basically worships the ground he walks on; the Kremnoans obviously aggressively follow the social protocols of their very traditional culture, which seems to include somewhat blind adoration of their kings. Even if Mydei wanted the Kremnoans to treat him as "just another one of the people," there's almost zero chance they would do so. It would likely go against their nature to even ask that of them. Ergo, Mydei's almost certainly spent his entire adult life as the recipient of his people's extreme respect--and their strict adherence to proper social protocols around their prince.

Because of this, Mydei does have specific (if likely subconscious) expectations for "how people will behave around me," and we players get to see several humorous moments where other characters in the story violate Mydei's understanding of how princes should be treated:

In a particularly infamous memory crystal, we see one of Phainon and Mydei's early interactions, with Phainon inserting himself in Mydei's presence and starting up a conversation Mydei obviously did not expect. This is such a faux pas that only someone like Phainon could have had the audacity to thoughtlessly do it; he basically hop-skip-jumped about twelve rungs on the social ladder to waylay a royal without seeking an audience--and Mydei is clearly taken aback to be approached so casually and without preamble. Although Mydei doesn't actually say it (because doing so would be rude, of course), Phainon himself awkwardly ends up acknowledging that Mydei is trying hard to end their conversation:

It's not because Mydei dislikes Phainon already, but because the act of walking up on a stranger--especially a stranger who is a prince!--and assuming such a degree of familiarity as to comment on his body of all things would be so beyond the pale of appropriate social behavior that even Mydei hardly seems to know how to respond at first.

We see this same completely (or perhaps willfully) oblivious to social protocol behavior from Phainon numerous times throughout the 3.0 and 3.1 quests, and Mydei's affronted reactions are always pretty priceless. You can almost hear him thinking "The audacity!"

The exact same face my conservative grandma makes when I accidentally drop an F bomb in front of her.

Blatantly asking a prince to praise you when you haven't earned it? Scandalous.

But Phainon isn't the only person who can provoke these offended responses from Mydei while pushing the prince's boundaries with bad manners. Trailblazer hilariously earns themself a few critiques about their lack of courtesy too:

And even Aglaea triggers a haughty response???

(Sure, we could give Mydei the benefit of the doubt here and say he's talking about himself and Phainon, but honestly? I think this English translation at least lends itself to the possibility of a different take as well: Bro got so embarrassed over being caught acting a fool that THE ROYAL "WE" just burst straight out of him lmaoooo. I mean, come on, he wouldn't be saying Phainon has a formidable presence while laying on the ground like an idiot, right? It's the royal we, I'm telling y'all. 😂)

In another humorous example, in the animation where Mydei plays with children, the "princess" in the play criticizes Mydei for not being very good at princely behaviors like Okheman waltzing, which immediately results in... Mydei seeking dance lessons from Tribbie so he can improve himself. Princes can't be caught slacking!

(But hilariously enough, as a sidenote, Mydei's dance ability seems to be another case of culture gap: One of the other children in Okhema, the one who was taught about Kremnoan traditions by Mydei, is actually quick to inform us that Mydei may not be familiar with Okheman dances--but he does know all about Anastenaria dancing!)

(Mydei might not fit the standards for an Okheman prince, but he's killing it as a Kremnoan one!)

Anyway, being serious again: Although it's quite funny the dev team insists so much that Mydei, despite being prince of a nation of savage warriors, is nonetheless a prince, with all the trappings of prim and proper etiquette, I think it also says a lot about Mydei's character that he does try to follow social protocols so closely. He apologizes for rudeness. He minds how he speaks to others. He is precise and forthright and always honors his word. Hell, he even politely makes prior arrangements if he knows he's going to be late to an event.

Mydei is self-aware enough to know his status. He knows the weight of that status, and he knows what his status means to his people. He takes the responsibility seriously and bears the role to the best of his ability, striving to meet the Kremnoans' expectations of a "crown prince" even as he can't bring himself to truly align with their core beliefs. He is trying his best to carry himself as a leader should, complete with his commitment to honor the traditional expectations and social class systems of both Kremnos and Okhema.

Despite his rough start in life, Mydei has accepted his people's intense respect and adapted himself to become someone worthy of commanding that respect. Social graces may not have come naturally to him after a childhood completely outside of humanity's reach, but Mydei nevertheless has worked hard to become a cultured person who embodies the demeanor and decorum of a sole surviving prince.

Although it's played for laughs, it's also played quite straight throughout Amphoreus's story: Manners matter to Mydei--both in himself and in others.

Anyway, since I still have more notes I jotted down about Mydei's characterization, here is some other stuff:

Part 2, over here ->

[minkieater]

who in nct 127 fucks ⛓️ & who makes lurrrrv… 💕

A 127 ASK AHHHH JUMPING AROUND MY ROOM DOING CARTWHEELS SCRRAMING CRYING TNTOWING UP i know u said detailed but this what my brain give u

FUCKS: freak bitches

1. johnny

u cannot tell me this man don’t Fuck. maybe u might have sweet nice time sex on like anniversaries or if u had a bad day and need him to be mister nice man but on the regular he’s Fucking. he’s straight dogging your shit. he’s bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking you within an inch of your life, folding you into a pretzel in the backseat of his car until you’re damn near concussed from your head hitting the car door, he’s breaking your bed frame like the sex scene in twilight. sex with johnny is never calm and casual it’s always gonna have you wondering whether or not you’re making it out in one piece (one piece mention) i need to fuck him like i need to breathe air

2. yuta

this freak bitch OH MY GOD he’s the type to have chains and rope and handcuffs in a box under his bed always ready to whip it out. dildos and vibrators in the bedside drawer type shit. blindfold and nipple clamps on hand SUE ME he’s the type to call sessions ‘scenes’ and thats honestly exactly what they are. he’s the sex is art type, always pressing on boundaries, seeing how far he can go until you’re safe wording, just to see where the hard line stop is, until you cant take it anymore. he expects you to do the same to him too, and you DO until he’s a crying whimpering mess, and he still doesn’t want you to stop until HE cant take it, playing with him through a chastity belt or edging him with a cockring on YEAH! i said what i said hes so hot

3. haechan

hyuck a diff kind of freak he’s the type to pee on u. bro is cumming on your stomach and licking it up, spitting it on your mouth, the type to have you sitting on his face or laying you out spread eagle, fingering you until you’re squirting, licking every OUNCE of it up. he’s nasty, his mouth is filthy, he’s whispering the most vile shit in your ear, shit that should NOT make you as horny as it does. he’s the type to fuck you in public, make you walk around with cum sliding down your thighs, laughing at you when its so clearly visible to anyone who decides to look down. im actually fucking feral writing this i need him so badly

MAKES LOVE: sweet angels

1. doyoung

if you try to pull any kind of freak shit w doyoung i think you’d scare him off or flat out give him the ick. he’s the sweet type, kissing you while he fucks you, fingers locked, praising you for how pretty you look, how good you feel, sex is meaningful to him and if you treat it like anything other than that he’s not gonna feel good about it. quickies will not be a thing unless either of you is truly desperate, even then he tries his best to make it special, taking you in a dressing room while whimpering in your ear, tears lining his eyes because he doesn’t want you to feel like he’s using you awwwwwww he’s so cute

2. markie

Grade A Whiner, mark might fuck but it’s in a pathetic way, in a submissive way, in a i cant stop because you feel so fucking good kind of way. he’s bringing you flowers to each date, a handwritten card hidden between petals, poems he’s written himself, song lyrics too special to be publicized. then he’s taking his sweet time after each date, kissing every inch of your skin, coaxing you to orgasm through concentration on all of your reactions, the way your breath hitches when he curls his fingers a certain way, how your eyes roll back when his cock hits that spot. not even worried about his own orgasm. could prolly cum untouched just from watching you cum. pathetic but in a hot way. #Needthat

3. jungwoo

THE BABBYYYYYY THE FUCKINF BABY sex with him is honestly probably so fun. all giggly and soft, innocent in a way, never serious or desperate, much like two people in their first relationship having sex for the first time but its like that all the time. it makes it special, light hearted, no pressure at all, just the two of you exploring each other, finding out what feels good, how to make it feel better. I <3 JUNGWOO

SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE: both ways

1. taeyong

taeyong could go either way i think he’s mad versatile. when the situation calls for it i think he can be really really submissive, but i also think u could work him up into a lil fuck machine. bro got stamina and with that navy body LAWDDDD hes fucking you into the mattress and flipping you around like youre a FEATHER. if he’s feeling particularly needy tho i think he’s very pliant for you, super vocal, whiney, telling you how good you make him feel, how much he loves you, how good you are to him, he doesn’t know he got so lucky w someone like you. he’d def call u mommy. he’d also fuck you like he’s turning you into one

2. jaehyun

gonna try not to lose my mind writing this 😁

jaehyun is sooo go with the flow i think he can be super sweet, he’ll go at your pace, would never think of taking things farther than what you set. always asks permission, asks how you’re feeling, if what he’s doing is still okay, super cautious and aware of his partner. he’s a fucking angel. on the other hand if u been together for awhile and u piss that man off he’s destroying your shit genuinely he’s ripping ur panties off ur body and fucking into you no prep. degrading words spat in your ear, a hand wrapped around your throat, using your ponytail to guide you through a bj at HIS pace. gagging you til you’re crying then laughing at you cus its your fault this is happening silly! he’s definitely edging u or fucking u until HE cums, denying you of an orgasm completely. FUCKKKKKKKKKKKK i actually beed him so bad Jaehyun please come home the kids miss you

anyways that’s my take on 127 hope u enjoyed and hopefully i did mark and yuta right 😛

[swampjawn]

If you wanted to animate an object spinning really fast, there are three main embellishments at your disposal. You could add smear frames, you could add doubling, or if you wanted to get a little crazy with it, you could have that object bend and stretch to really emphasize the inertia of the motion.

Or you could do all three at the same time!

I didn't want to like Zenshu at first.

Saying I'm not a big fan of isekai as a genre would be an understatement, so I was straight up peeved when I found out that what I initially thought would be a flawed industry's unflinching look in the mirror made by THE studio that has become the symbol of the Japanese animation industry's broader problems with overworking and underpaying, this was just gonna be yet another in a long line of paint-by-numbers escapist power fantasies in a genre that was tired from the moment it was born, just like yaboy, sleepy to the max if you know what I'm saying.

And this recreation of a scene from Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (1984), (which was one of the first breakout roles for anime legend and Evangelion director Hideaki Anno) certainly helped soften my attitude towards it, but a series of references to old stuff wouldn't be enough.

(both versions trimmed here)

But its tribute to classic anime and animation in general goes beyond just references.

This absurdly over the top modernized version of a magical girl transformation animated by Keisuke Toyoda (豊田 桂祐 ) feels like it contains all the possibilities of animation and imagination in just 3 preposterously dense cuts. There is just WAY too much going on here at once, in a way that feels very self aware.

Every color you could imagine, lighting from three different directions, what looks like three different layers of effects and sparkles, countless compositing effects, what looks like some sort of 3D particle simulation in the background,

this psychedelic background art that seems to represent Natsuko's blood vessels, a bit where you can see what it took me several episodes to realize are Natsuko's actual blood vessels and skeleton through her body,

and… some birds of course.

Most of the main elements are animated on 2's, but there are so many layers -- the timing of each offset from the rest -- that it almost feels like the whole thing is animated on 1's because there is practically no single frame where at least something doesn't change.

It's really an assault to the senses that contrasts hilariously with the mundane action of actually sitting down at a desk and drawing. There's even a little death note reference thrown in there to poke fun at this contrast!

And fully committing to the sailor moon bit, they repeat this stock animation in almost every episode. While it's no masterpiece plot-wise, it is at least more than I expected on that front too, but that's more than I can get into here. I talk about that some more and a bunch of other stuff in this video, from which this post is an adapted excerpt! Go watch it and comment, "wow sWIMP John, I used to like your videos but you've really fallen off hardcore. Go back to making magic school bus AMVs. Unsubbed."

[missconchshell]

I loved this new episode of Miraculous! Oh my gosh, I didn't even realize it was coming out, but I'm so happy it did!

I've never been too too attached to either Marc or Nathaniel, but this episode really won me over! It was neat getting to see both of their parents, and show just how much of a difference unconditional support can make. It really reminded of just how lucky I am that my own parents are so accepting.

I also love the contrast in the setting as well, with Nathaniel's family physically further apart, while Marc and his parents are all bunched together on the same couch. I feel like the show has been putting in a lot more care into framing and the setup of scenes this season, and I'm all for it!

Also, this is one of the first times I've seen their new designs up close, and I'm a huge fan! Love all the little details, like Marc's eye makeup, Nathaniel's self-painted shoes and his wavy little hairclip. Just look at the happy boy!

Now, onto the meat of the episode. Nathaniel's passions (and by association himself) being rejected by his parents did get me to tear up. It hurt and felt so real, I'm amazed to see this sorta thing in a show like Miraculous.

I felt so bad watching him destroy his work and try and force himself to conform to his parents' expectations. It was a very realistic picture of this type of struggle, and is definitely something I and I'm sure many others have struggled with before. And I was shocked at how blunt the writers got with the implied homophobia with lines from his mom about making Nathaniel "go straight."

Then once it got onto the mom being named Ruler, I just kinda started laughing, like, oh, they weren't gonna be subtle at all!

And dang Lila, willing to even use homophobia to get those miraculous. Tsk tsk.

The Akuma's power was definitely pretty creepy, like I hate these eyes so much, but Lila got really dang close to getting those miraculous this time, far more than any of Gabe's minion-based akumas! And despite this being the billionth time Chat Noir's been controlled, the physicality of the animation and voice acting did a decent job of making it funny.

It was also neat that the Akuma's powers got to be used against them, with Nathaniel finally stepping forth and taking back control from his mother (side note: I loved his transformation literally having him come out of the closet, the animators knew exactly what they were doing).

I know I've ignored them most of the episode, but I will say that Marinette and Adrien were adorable as usual! And I love that he feels comfortable enough with her to tease!

Then there was the ending. I'm so glad Nathaniel's parents came to accept his love of comics (and Marc). It was a sweet moment of acceptance that not everyone is lucky enough to have, so I'm glad we at least got a happy ending here.

I also really appreciate that little serious moment at the very end. I was expecting more Lila dialogue when the ominous music started playing, but having a serious moment where they discuss how they're attacked simply living their lives was a sad but pleasant surprise. It's cool that they're acknowledging a reality that so many people face every day. But I'm so glad these boys have each other in this!

And even if I know for a fact that the identity reveal is going to blow up in their faces one day based on the show's history, it still was so adorable and I loved the scene! Just the joy on each of their faces, knowing they're not alone, was so sweet!

Overall, I'm just really impressed with the writers this season! They're tackling a lot more serious topics in these one-off episodes, and honestly doing it far better than I ever expected from this silly love-square show. So many of these stories have resonated with me, and it's been really neat getting to see so much representation of different struggles. And it's especially cool to think about how these episodes could meaningfully impact the show's younger audience as well! These are the sorts of things I wish I saw more of growing up, it would have changed little miss shell's world for the better. So, keep up the good work Miraculous Team!

[shadowkoo]

Up In Flames - Part 1

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

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

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

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

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @lapydiariesnet @keopihausnet

@svthub @thediamondlifenetwork

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

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

→ READ PART 2 ⟡⋆⟡ SERIES MLIST ←

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But–”

“No.”

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

“Yeah, what’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You better,” you remark.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. Now what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Besides the car, are you hurt?”

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

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

“My dog.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I’ll give you my dog first.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn it, ‘Cheol. Not the time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s ringing.”

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

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

“Oh, hello! Is my son there?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

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

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

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

And then—buzz.

Wait. Are his lips...vibrating?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ve resolved it. Mostly.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Love you too, sis. Bye.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s day three of surviving Seungcheol.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nine days without making a fool of yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re using a certain someone as inspiration.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatcha working on?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff, grabbing a knife. “Duh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? Really? Why’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks for helping.”

Day Five of Surviving Seungcheol

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

Unlike you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

Except it doesn’t.

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

It’s not his fault. Really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

No.

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

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

But then, he sees them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No! No, please no!”

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

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

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

But then he lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Screw privacy.

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

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

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

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

But before you can, his arms tighten around you.

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

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

You fit perfectly against him.

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

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

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

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

Seungcheol is gone.

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

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

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

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

Your heart gives an inconvenient little patter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, give me five minutes.”

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

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

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

“My brother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chivalry isn’t dead, after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you shift.

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

Shit.

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

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

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

“Mmm, Seungcheol.”

His stomach clenches. His fingers twitch against your skin.

Holy. Fuck.

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

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

He needs distance. Immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His strokes quicken, his breath growing uneven.

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

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

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

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

Jesus fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect.

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

It’s a genius plan, really.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

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

…

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You listen intently, noticing the weight of his words.

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

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

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

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

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

Day Seven of Surviving Seungcheol

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, he finally closes the distance.

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

It’s warm, intoxicating, perfect.

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

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

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

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

Shit.

Day Nine of Surviving Falling For Seungcheol

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

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

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

Unless...it really didn’t affect him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boyfriend material. Without a doubt.

You need to get a grip.

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

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

“Here, I got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

Or is he not imagining it at all?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep. Unless you’re scared.”

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

“Dare.” He doesn’t hesitate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, your turn now.”

“Truth,” you say, chickening out.

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, your turn again.”

“Truth.”

“Why did you kiss me?” you blurt out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Help me in?” you ask, reaching out.

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

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

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

Oh, right. The game.

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

Your grin deepens. “Take off your boxers.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s all the confirmation he needs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?” you answer, voice still breathless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah, bye.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

→ READ PART 2 ⟡⋆⟡ SERIES MLIST ←

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

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

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

©shadowkoo 2025. All rights reserved.

[calypsocolada]

MISO SOUP AND SWEET POTATOES | g. tomioka

(click here for part two!)

synopsis: you're tasked with convinicing Giyu to join the Hashira Training author's note: hello. this was a days worth of writing. from 11 am to 3 am. i even wrote parts in my notepad at work. i really like how this turned out. i finished the hashira training arc last night and think that final episode might've been the best episode of anime i have actually ever seen. this is a whole ass story cw: slightly suggestive, major spoilers for rengoku and the hashira training arc, character death, gore, ANGST, fluff, happy ending, fem reader, use of y/n a lil, lover!giyu, hardheaded!reader wc: 6.4k

click here for my masterlist

--------------------------------------------------------

“Would you mind talking to Giyu for me? So that Giyu, who tends to put himself into a negative frame of mind can start looking ahead again. Will you be persistent in your efforts to speak with him?” 

You stared at the letter. You reread it again and again and again. Your body still aches from the previous fight in the swordsmith village and you sort of hoped this was a hallucination. That you were still unconscious at the butterfly mansion, the chatter of the nurses in the foreground. But your crow beside you squawked and startled you out of your reverie. You knew it was real. The paper crinkled in your hands. Kagaya’s handwriting, nearly flawless script, smudged slightly from a shaky hand. You followed the trail of his pen again. 

Would you mind speaking to Giyu for me?

You wondered if maybe this letter was accidentally sent to you. Even as your eyes wandered back up to the top of the paper that clearly stated ‘Dear Y/n’. Even if it didn’t say your name there were no accidents with Kagaya. You just wished that this was one. His first and only.  

But… but there had to be an accident. You… Out of everyone, all the Hashira that were certainly closer to Giyu. But you, the newest Hashira, had been chosen to speak with him? In what world did that make any sense? 

You barely knew the guy. 

Granted he had been the reason you joined the corp originally, but he’d dodged your very presence the best he could ever since that day. 

Your village had been attacked about four years ago. Same old story for a lot of people victimized by demons. There was never a happy ending with those monsters involved. Always blood. Always loss. It was no different for you. Half of your family was slaughtered before you could even rouse yourself from sleep. But when you did all you saw was the inkblots of blood on your white walls, the color shining in the cruel moonlight. You remembered sitting up and feeling numb as you heard someone screaming. That scream that never left you. Something you’d never be able to forget for as long as you lived. 

When you got to your feet your mother had busted into your room. She looked pale, blood gushing from beneath her white nightgown. She scooped you up and kissed your head as she stuffed you into the closet, her blood smudged against your pj’s. She shushed your cry’s and told you not to come out until the sun shone beneath the crack in the door. She grabbed you shakily and kissed the top of your head. You didn’t know then it was the last. You reached for her but she pushed your hands back, silently shook her head then pressed the door closed. 

You’d always been a good kid. You stayed put exactly as you’d been told. Even as you heard more screams. Even as it went quiet. 

Only until that sun shone beneath your door did you move. You busted out of that closet. Your mother’s name, the first thing on your lips but she wasn’t the first person you saw. The scene in your house was horrific, the gore the blood, it was unreal. The sight of the people you loved in multiple torn pieces scattered is something that comes back to you in flashes when you fight demons now. 

It spurs you on to do exactly what they did to your family back to them. To tear them to shreds. 

In the middle of it all was a boy. He was sitting so still that you didn’t even notice him amongst the slaughter. Your living room was still dark, dark enough that it kept this monster safe as it rose to its full height. No longer a boy but a creature from your deepest darkest nightmares. It had your family’s blood on its mouth as it smiled a wickedly devilish smile. 

“Hmm. Missed one.” It spoke in a gravelly tone as it swallowed whatever it was chewing on. You could guess what now. You stepped back into your mother’s blood… or maybe your father’s… sister’s… brother’s? The blood, slick beneath your foot as it slid out from underneath you and you crashed into their bodies, something sharp sticking into your side as you gasped in sudden pain. Your mother’s hand still gripped a knife that had now lodged itself in the back of your thigh. The demon only laughed. “Clumsy one aren’t you? Mommy wasted time hiding something so useless.” It growled, approaching with a predatory gleam in its dark eyes. 

When it pounced towards you something momentary took hold of you. You, a measly twelve year old, yanked that knife from your own flesh and thrusted it into the demons eye. The creature roared like nothing you’d heard before as it stumbled back away from you. You just blinked as you watched it, numbness contending with your fear. The creature yanked the knife out and tossed it angrily to the side. It growled, fuming as it charged back at you. You raised your hands to defend yourself, screwing your eyes shut. Mom did waste her time, you thought. You heard the whoosh of something cutting through the air itself and when you opened your eyes the creature had halted its assault. It locked eyes with you moments before its head toppled right off its shoulder, bouncing against the floor. You stared in abject horror as the creature's body started to burn a blood red color, dusting away and a figure behind it. You were as still as a statue as the figure behind it took shape. 

The shape of a boy, he couldn’t have been much older than you. Eyes an indigo blue, dark and almost unfeeling as they met yours. You watched as he gave a quick swipe of his sword to rid it of the demons burning blood as he sheathed it back at his side. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked, his voice young like yours. You weren’t hurt. Somehow. You couldn’t open your mouth to answer him, not with your body still on top of your parents. You just stared at him, even as your eyesight got cloudy and stinging tears slid down your cheeks. 

The boy walked towards you and remained still, unable to move as he bent down in front of you. He reached and clumsily brushed the tears from your face. It was as if he knew you wouldn’t part your lips to speak because wordlessly he, with immaculate ease, picked you up off the corpses and carried you out of the house. You moved for the first time in minutes as your head tilted to look back towards your family. 

“Eyes on me.” He said and sure enough your eyes snapped to him. To take in his face. Eyes endlessly dark blue as they stared forwards. He had to have been your age, maybe a year or two older. He had the shape of a young face, with full cheeks and raven black hair to the nape of his neck. You couldn’t look away, it had nothing to do with his looks but everything to do with his command. 

You were a good kid. When someone told you to do something you did it. Years later you would come to thank Giyu for that, for commanding you to look at him instead of glancing back at what remained of your family. That probably would’ve been another image left haunting you.

Everything after that was just sort of a blur. You stayed some place warm, a faint fire flickering and that boy with the sword stayed with you until some men in black uniforms found you. You remember not being able to walk, the shock and grief of the night not letting you. You’d held onto your saviors shirt, your fist balled. He let you, in fact he even came along with you and the men in black and when they asked you to let go you blinked at them. You hadn’t even noticed you were still holding on. You let go in an instant. Your hand is sore from how tightly you’d been clenching. The men in blacks hands were on your shoulders guiding you away and when you looked back your voice came to you. 

“What’s your name?” You asked, everything paused for you so you could hear his answer. 

“Giyu.” He answered. You put a name to his face. You parted your lips to thank him but nothing came out again. You couldn’t say thanks. Not when you were the only breathing because you cowardly hid in the closet. You felt you didn’t deserve to be thankful. You met his eyes again and something, somehow, told you he understood. He gave you the softest nod of his head and when he turned to leave you felt your heart drop. Like something had bonded you to this boy. But you turned and let yourself be whisked away. 

Time passed slowly. You joined up with the very same people as Giyu had. You were given a sword and trained thoroughly, a fire in you that spurred you on like nothing before. A need to kill. Which is why you eagerly trudged up that mountain to crush the selection test. You spent a few years hopping from mission to mission, gaining a bit of a terrible reputation. Though just how many demon slayers could be friendly? There was one, the man, just a few years older than you. The hashira. With hair like fire and a smile that blinded you. He took interest in you like no one had. Saw something beyond your terribly sour and cold exterior.

A year or so after that you were sent on a mission to help the Water Hashira. You’d never met any other Hashira besides Rengoku so you were sort of apprehensive. You never liked meeting new people. All those years spent with Rengoku and his fiery personality you wished at least some of it had rubbed off on you but… you were still demure and quiet, quick to anger and prone to disappearing. You liked your alone time. You had all but begged Rengoku to let you go with him in his mission, apparently some demon had infested a train, that sounded far more exhilarating than helping some water Hashira you didn’t know. Rengoku did what he always did when you were disappointed. He gave you a sort of unwanted hug, though secretly you wanted and needed it, and ruffled your hair. 

“We’ll see each other in two weeks. Next mission is yours and mine.” He said and then he was gone and you were boarding a train going the opposite way. 

When you arrived, stepping off the train your eyes met the same indigo blue eyes from so many years ago. 

When you were both kids. 

Now both adults. 

You stopped where you stood, unable to walk any closer as everything fled back. Stuff you had managed to keep down deep for so many years. Memories you wanted to erase. All that time wasted and drudged back up in mere seconds. Giyu may have had those same eyes but he was grown now. His hair longer and tied back, his face had lost that boyish roundness. He looked tall and lean. Well at least taller than you. For a moment he looked just as surprised as you but he smoothed over that emotion into something practiced. 

“It is you…” He said, his voice deep and soft. You swallowed, your hand resting on your sword. 

“You’re the water Hashira?” You asked and he nodded his head as the train behind you dinged and slowly pulled out of the stop, the wind blowing your hair over your shoulders. 

“You’re Rengoku’s tsuguko?” At that you nodded your head back at him. His eyes trailed to your sword, to your haori, an old one Rengoku had gifted you. His eyes lingered on that fiery pattern.  

“I never learned your name.” He said and then his eyes flicked to yours. You swallowed dryly, you weren’t sure why he made you so nervous, why your heart was beating so fast. You wondered if he was a part of a life you wanted to die off. The scared girl in the closet was far from who you were now. Rengoku never got to meet that scared girl. No one had. Except Giyu. You told him your name and he repeated it, as if feeling how it felt on his own lips. Your heart skipped a traitorous beat at the way he spoke your name. It felt different coming from him. You grabbed ahold of yourself.

“Shall we?”

But your mission with Giyu was cut off with the sudden death of Rengoku. You and Giyu hadn’t made it back to the village, before both of your crows had delivered the news. You still remembered everything about that moment. Giyu walking beside you, your haori catching a gust of wind, cold wind, as if winter was coming. You could replay your footsteps on the dirt road. The distant flapping of wings growing closer and closer and then stopping as they landed. Your initial glance over at the water Hashira before the delivering of the news. The ripple before the crack in your soul. Giyu had been present for the worst two days of your life. Something about losing someone again that felt like family irrevocably broke something in you all over again. This pain you felt before today you wondered for years if it would last. Rengoku had healed some of it. And begrudgingly and foolishly you let him in. But now you have your answer. This pain would last forever. You couldn’t even cry, you just stared blankly ahead, just as you had in your dark house wrecked with the stench of blood. Everyone died. Everyone you loved died.  

You felt a hand on your shoulder, you didn’t want to look at him.

“Go, I’ll finish the mission.” He said, his voice different, there was a coldness before but now only warmth. You still didn’t look at him as you turned to leave.

“Be careful.” You choked out before taking off in a run back towards the train station. 

You’d seen Giyu a few times after that but only in passing, never long enough to start up a proper conversation though both of you hated talking. You never let anyone else in after that. You took up the position of Fire Hashira and the only thing fiery about you was your utter hatred for demons. The other Hashira were sort of weary of you and that kept them at a distance. You only talked when absolutely needed and was the first to leave after Hashira meetings. You liked that distance. You’d do anything to keep it. There was only so much heartbreak and loss you could take. You were at your limit. You didn’t have room for anyone in your scabbard dying heart. 

That’s why receiving that letter from Kagaya had caught you so off guard. He of all people knew who you were and still he asked you for a favor. Probably a dying wish. He had shown you kindness and since it was the only thing he’d ever asked you for, reluctantly, you found yourself at the front of Giyu’s home. 

It was cold out as your knuckles rapped against the wooden door. You waited, stepped back and looked off to the side, expecting to see Kagaya’s crow lingering around somewhere to report back to him. A minute had passed as you gave one more series of knocks. Nothing. Maybe he wasn’t home. You sighed and turned to leave just as the wooden door clicked and was pulled open. When you turned back those striking blue eyes met yours. There was skepticism on his face as you swallowed. That feeling that met you every time you saw Giyu never seemed to fade. That persistent speeding of your heart. That faltering of words. All highly inconvenient.

“Y/n?” Giyu spoke first, pulling the door open just a tad more. He was in casual clothing, he looked as though he may have just woken up.

“Giyu. I never knew you lived in this part of town.” You stupidly lied. 

“It’s quiet.”

“I can see.” The lack of noise was slightly unsettling, only the rustling of leaves in the wind could be heard. You swallowed. “May I come in?” Your voice was slightly strained and didn’t at all sound like you wanted to do that but to your detriment Giyu moved to the side. Giyu’s home was a reflection of himself. It was clean, almost sterile, with dark walnut furnishings and dark curtains. He really must’ve been sleeping because he reaches over and flicks on a few lanterns, casting an orange glow to his main room. 

“I wasn’t expecting company,” He says over his shoulder and you almost agree.

“Unwanted?” You ask and when he shakes his head ‘no’ you relax sort of. 

“I’ll make us some food. Did you travel long?” He asks as he leads you towards the kitchen. You take a seat at the kitchen island and watch him get to work. 

“Yeah. Long train ride.” You answer as Giyu nods his head. You know he’s probably dying to know why you’re here but you're sure if you told him things would turn sour. You watched Giyu gather ingredients and supplies, he was very orderly about things, kept things nice and clean as he prepared dinner for you both. You had a lot of experience cooking with Rengoku, that man could eat and eat. Just at the thought you felt a pang and forced your face not to show it.

“Do you need help?” 

“That’s alright, you rest.” Giyu intones, setting a cup in front of you as he fills it with hot black tea. You thank him, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. You stare down into the tea for a moment and realize you had no idea how to go about this little favor Kagaya had asked of you. You barely spoke with anyone, you were well out of practice. How genuine would this ask even be coming from you? 

“How’re you?” You asked, not letting yourself be embarrassed by your lack of social skills. Giyu flicks on the stove.

“Do you really want to know?” He asked over his shoulder and stupidly, because he wasn’t even looking at you, you nodded your head before clearing your throat and speaking.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” You hoped that didn’t come out as sharp as it sounded.

“I’m… well. Thank you for asking.” Giyu answered, his monotone answer at war with the words he spoke. He sounded anything but well. You remembered the last Hashira meeting. You remembered Giyu’s back turned as he said, ‘I’m not like the rest of you.’ Unlike Sanemi you didn’t feel angry at that. In fact you knew how that felt. To feel unwelcomed and wanting it to stay that way. 

“If you’re well then I’m well.” You sigh and when Giyu turned, his eyes meeting yours, you felt a flash of how you saw him that first time. You blinked it away as he turned back.

“I didn’t think… you of all the Hashira’s would be the first to visit.” Giyu said, turning back to the stove. You stared at the back of his head. 

“Me neither.” You scoffed with a soft laugh. “But here I am.”

“Here you are.” He says, his voice soft again. It did funny things to you. Funny things that only he could elicit. It was frustrating.

“Giyu…” You trailed off, unsure how to broach the subject. “Did something happen? To make you not want to help out with the Hashira training?” Giyu was quiet for a long moment. You watched him stir some stuff into the pan and for a moment you thought he hadn’t heard you. 

“Can we not… talk about that?” He asks almost kindly. But that’s all you needed to talk about. If you didn’t stay on topic you’d be doing Kagaya a disservice. Though… could you count that as a hardy try?

“Of course.” You answered, fiddling with your hands. You’d left your sword back at the inn you were staying at and wished you’d had it just so you could fiddle with something else. “Though, I apologize but, I almost wish I could sit it out too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Training a bunch of snot nosed kids sounds like hell to me.” You spoke truthfully and watched Giyu’s shoulders rise and fall quickly, almost like he was maybe laughing, but he still wasn't facing you so you wouldn’t know.

“Not a fan?”

“I had my fill with the three from the swordsmith village.” Tanjiro, his little demon sister, Nezuko and Sanemi’s little brother Genya. All a handful. But very capable in a fight. 

“How’re your wounds? I… never got to ask.” Giyu says as he reaches for some seasoning, finally turning to the side to face you.

“Scarring up.” You said and Giyu nodded his head, his eyes drifting to the scar on your cheek.

“Two upper ranks. If anyone could handle them I knew it’d be you.” He says with a sort of gleam in his eye. 

“Can’t take the credit. That red head kid killed one of ‘em while MItsuri and I held off its body. Muichiro took out the other by himself.” You recounted, the fight honestly felt like it would never end.

“You and Kanroji worked together?”

“Surprising, right?”

“Not at all.” Giyu answers. “You two are very alike.”

“In what way?” You almost laughed at that statement. 

“Strong, fierce, never quit.”

“I think we all have that in common.” You say and Giyu gets this look in his eyes as he turns back away. You feel as though you lost some ground. You chew the inside of your cheek. Clearly Giyu doesn’t feel as though he had that in common. Something ignited in you. A need to say something on your mind. “Giyu… I-- I never thanked you.”

“Thanked me?” He echoed.

“I’ve… wrestled with it for a long time. How to… go about it. Kyojuro used to tell me to practice with all the people we met. To thank them for stupid things, like holding the door open or bringing me food. Just so the words didn’t feel so foreign. But I never really felt thankful for you saving me. I lived because my whole family died. Because I hid.” You take in a shaky breath. You’d never talked about this stuff out loud, not even with Rengoku. You felt embarrassed suddenly, shaking your head, you forced out a choked laugh. “Nevermind. I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m… rambling.” You felt his eyes on you but you forced yourself to keep looking down at your warm tea. As long as you stayed like this maybe he’d move the conversation along to something else. You cursed yourself for ruining the mood, if there even was one to begin with.

“You don’t have to stop. I… I would like to know more about you. I… always have.” Your eyes shot to his like a knife hitting its mark. Those dark eyes, you could swim in them. Get lost in them. 

Those eyes… could make you feel something. 

That made you shoot to your feet, your tea spilling over. Giyu didn’t startle, he just turned to grab a rag but when he turned back you were halfway to the front door. He dropped the towel on the table. 

“W-wait!” He called to you but when he rounded into the main room the front door slammed closed. 

You fumbled outside, steps clumsy as you started to run and run. You didn’t want to think about it. You had to get away, as far as those legs of yours could take you. You could run to the next town over, retrieve your sword in the morning and never speak to the water hashira again. Never again. Favor be damned. What you felt was dangerous. That kind of thing left you the hollow husk you were today. You preferred this safe loneliness. You couldn’t ever be hurt again. You stopped for a moment, the cold air tough to run in as you huffed and puffed out condensation clouds.

“You’re fast.” You hadn’t even heard his approach. You didn’t turn, just swallowed.

“I- realized I have an early train. Can’t stay out late.”

“Come back... Please.” His voice was doing that soft thing you body liked so much. You clenched your jaw, if you could stab your heart you would.

“I can’t.”

“Why? And… tell me the truth.” You heard him walk a bit closer. Please, you thought, just go back home.

“Maybe you’re right. What you said at the last meeting, that you’re not like us other Hashira. Maybe I just realized it.” You wanted to hurt him, it was a common defense you used quite often. 

“And?”

“And I’m wasting my time speaking with someone who’d rather sit on the sidelines.” You spat over your shoulder. That’ll do it, you thought, that’ll get him to leave. It was quiet, heartbreakingly quiet and you were too much of a coward to see the hurt you caused so you started to walk away towards your inn.

“You… can hate me.” You stopped walking instantly and turned, Giyu looked stricken, as if you slapped him. You regretted turning around. “You can hate me all you want. Yell at me, hit me, whatever you want to do. But I need you to know… you might regret me saving you but I’ll never regret saving you.”

“Giyu,”

“Please… let me.” He straightened slightly. “I… am amazed by you.” His words hit you like the sharpest sting. Like a knife in the gut that slowly twists. “You’re incredible, nothing ever could rival you. You… lost so many yet you fight with purpose. I could never be like you.” You tense your jaw, eyes sharp. 

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You take a step towards him. “I am hateful. I don’t have a purpose to fight anymore I just do it because it needs to be done. You don’t know me at all.”

“Maybe I don’t. But… I want to.”

“Why?”

“I’m not succinct.” Giyu sighs, as if tired. “I just do.” Want to know you. You stared at him and that traitorous heart of yours, that naive heart did another flip. You shook your head. 

“You don’t. No one does.”

“Rengoku did.” Your eyes lit like fire, some heat filling your soul. You wanted to yell at him for saying his name. For bringing him into this. But you’d done it first. 

“He’s dead. They all are. My whole family. I don’t want to know you. I don’t want you to know me. I want you to go back home and let me be.” 

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Maybe for the same reason your eyes find mine every time we're in the same room.” Giyu took a step closer, you watched him move as though he was going to strike through your heart. Like he was going for a killing blow.

“I… I don’t do that.” The lie was so obvious to your ears it almost made you cringe outwardly. 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you. I look for you in every room. I… I lied to you the second time we saw each other so many years ago I… I knew you were Rengoku’s tsuguko because he’d written to me. He… sensed something and told me he was sending you to me for that mission. I was so… so damn nervous to see you again after so many years. So curious about how you were faring and I couldn’t even get more than fifteen words out. And when Rengoku passed I would write Kagaya, ask him how you were because I was too much of a coward to ask you myself.” 

That’s why Kagaya wrote to you. 

Your heart beat, skipped a beat then beat again. Everything was falling into place. Why Rengoku had sent you away when you had always gone on missions with him. The scheming man was playing matchmaker. And even Kagaya was playing the same damn game. 

“Don’t say anything else, Giyu. Please.”

“I won’t speak the rest of the night if you come back. You can even leave at first light. Just please… let me feed you and give you a place to sleep.”

“My inn isn’t too far.”

“Please.” The emotion in his voice was staggering. It was a plea. It had sounded like something he needed even more than breathing. You stared at him. If you went with him now that would be the very first crack in your walls. You never gave an inch away since Rengoku died and if you started now everything would crumble.

“No. I’m going back to my inn.”

“I’ll join the hashira training.” He said and your lips parted in silent surprise. “That’s why you came tonight wasn’t it? You’d never do it alone so Kagaya must’ve written to you? Am I right?” Your face must’ve given away the answer because Giyu continued and you realized right here and now this is the most you two have ever talked. An hour together had more dialogue than almost eight years. And this was why you kept your distance all these years. Because if anyone knew you it was Giyu, he’d seen you at your lowest yet here he was… begging you to stay for just a few hours. “Come back and I’ll join. You can consider your task a success.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I’d do it for you.”

“Be serious.” You growled and Giyu took another step forward. You hadn’t noticed him getting so close but suddenly he was close enough to touch. You stepped back. 

“Come back. Please.”

“You’re annoyingly persistent.”

“I just want you safe. That’s all.”

“You already saved me once. That’s enough.” You condemned with a shake of your head. Giyu looked doubtful for a moment, unsure of how to convince you to come back. But if you made good on Kaguya's favor this could be the end of it. “I’ll come back.” His eyes shot up to yours. “But I’m gone first light.” He nodded his head at that. 

Giyu finished up dinner as you set the table. It was quiet between you two after everything. Giyu had all but confessed the real depth of his feelings but you had an idea and it wasn’t something you’d let yourself dwell on. That idea was something close to hope. Something close to a degree of happiness. That’s not something you wanted. Not something you’d let yourself have. If there was one thing you were truly good at, it was self destruction. 

You took your seat as Giyu placed down the food. Miso soup with sweet potatoes. You stared at it, stricken. Rengoku’s favorite meal. 

“Hey… you alright?” 

“Seriously? That was at least your sixth bowl.” You huffed. Rengoku smirked as he pulled the bowl to his lips, slurping down the rest of its contents. He placed it down and reached for the ladle again. You watched him in amused surprise as he dulled out a seventh bowl. “You’re overgorging yourself.”

“It’s too good. Who taught you to cook, kid?” 

“You did.” You sighed with an eyeroll as Rengoku laughed heartily.

“Ah! That’s right I did.”

You blinked a few times and suddenly your face felt wet. You pressed a hand to your cheek. You hadn’t cried since losing your parents. You thought you were incapable, that you had exhausted your tear ducts at night. You hadn’t cried when you lost Rengoku and you always felt inhuman because of it. You looked across the table and met Giyu’s wide eyed stare, he looked startled at your tears.

“What’s wrong?” He asked and you couldn’t stop the tears now. They fell so fluidly, so overwhelmingly. You tried to apologize but your words just came out in stuttered croaks in your throat. Giyu stood so fast he knocked his chair over as he crossed to the other side of the table. He dropped to his knees beside you and pulled you to him. Rengoku hugged you a lot. You’d say it was unwanted but it was something you needed. Giyu’s arms around you felt different. He hugged you close to his chest, his hand tangled in your hair as you fell prey to your emotions. But startlingly so… it felt nice. Bottling things up for so long had very nearly ended you and you might’ve been able to really shut off your humanity if it hadn't been for that damned letter. 

If it hadn't been for Rengoku’s unending kindness. 

If it hadn't been for Giyu’s persistence. 

You could’ve nearly ended up as black hearted as the demon that flipped your life upside down. That was the most startling revelation of them all.

Giyu hugged you tight as you fell to pieces. He didn’t let go, never even loosened his arms a little bit around you. He just held you and let you cry and cry. It should’ve been embarrassing but as he pulled your hair back out of your face and wiped your wet cheeks there wasn’t an ounce of that annoying sympathy in his eyes. Just utter understanding. And this was the most inopportune time, seeing as your eyes were probably bloodshot, nose probably running like crazy, but without thinking you sucked in a ragged breath and then surged forwards and pressed your mouth to his. Giyu made a sound in his throat, you felt his arms around you tighten, drawing you in, deepening the kiss. 

This wasn’t something you knew of. 

Your parent’s pecked each other’s lips and cheeks but this… no this was something for behind closed doors. For just you two. That fire that pooled in your stomach upon seeing Giyu had heightened at least tenfold when he pulled you into his lap. Your bodies pressed against one anothers, no room, not even a milimeter’s length of space. He kissed you softly, but you kissed him back hard, untrained, unknowing. That chasm of loneliness in you had reached its peak and you wanted it gone, you wanted it filled. He gently ran his hand through your hair and you balled your fist in his shirt. He gently lowered you back and kissed you against the hardwood flooring of his kitchen. 

You shoved your chair away from you both and hooked your legs around his hips. He made another sound and you found that you liked it so you tightened your hold and slid your hand in his hair. That awarded you another sound, like a whimper. When he pulled back for air you yanked him by the hair back to your lips. Fuck air. You didn’t need that. You’d rather breathe him in. He whimpered again, his hips mindlessly moving, sending a wave of heat through you and this time it was your turn to groan. He hooked an arm around your back and with strength and swiftness, he hoisted you up off the floor without even breaking the kiss. You gasped in surprise and he walked you through the hallway. Kissing you against the wall and the door and the dresser before he finally made it to his bed. 

You two fell into the softness of his covers, his body trapping you beneath him. He trailed his lips away from yours and you whimpered at the loss of contact. But he kissed both your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose and to your jaw. He paid extra attention to your neck before kissing your collar bones. He kissed his way down your body. Kissing your scars that had once been an eyesore to you. Ever so gently tracing some absentmindedly with his other hand. Whatever growing between you two was something to be earned. Sure you loved Giyu but you needed more time with him. You spent eight years barely speaking. You could tell Giyu felt that too because when his lips met yours again and pulled back you both blinked tiredly at one another. 

Astonishingly you watched the softest of smiles spread across Giyu’s face. You wanted to catalog this moment forever. To remember it till the day you died. Giyu pressed one last kiss to your forehead and then dropped beside you on the bed. He pulled you to him, your back pressed to his front. Your legs tangled as his hand reached across you and intertwined with yours. You blushed but settled against him. The dregs of sleep calling for you. You two didn’t need to speak another word.  

You watched the first light roll in through Giyu’s curtains. It shone like blades across his room. Giyu softly snored beside you, arms still around your body. You’d never kissed a single soul before but you knew what a kiss meant. You knew whenever your dad kissed your mom or the other way around that it was an unspoken way to say I love you. But it was a different kind of love your parents shared. You loved your family. You loved Rengoku. 

But you loved Giyu. 

You loved him as you clamped your fist in his shirt the night he saved you. You loved him when you stepped off that train. You loved him at every hashira meeting and every stolen glance. You loved him as you read Kagaya’s letter and loved him when he opened the door. As he chased you down in the street and begged you to come back to his home. So many problems never go away, some pain felt as though it would last forever and you never thought you could break through. You never thought you could just grow around it, because nothing was more persistent than a plant in the presence of the sun. You never told Rengoku you loved him, never told him how much he meant to you and that his kindness never fell to deaf ears. You had spent eight years loving Giyu and not letting yourself know it.

And all it took was a damn bowl of miso soup and sweet potatoes.