#according to her profile she was like a god at keys and just switched for the hell of it

[honey-and-strawberry]

Move in day: 1 (part 1 of Ponytails & Overnights)

An ot7 MX (non idol) x OC university au series.

Warnings: little bit of swearing. Self esteem issues, but gets very wholesome.

Character profiles

Series opening song: Breathe For You by Monsta X

❗️Hyun-Jae❗️

This must be the address. The house looks bigger than the pictures! I hope the inside is just as nice as the outside. The landlord’s garden in the yard is well kept, I wonder if they grow their own vegetables in the greenhouse. I should’ve waited till Hyungwon was free, so he could help me move in right away. It’s ok, he’ll be here soon. He lives in the house next door anyway.

I go to the front door and punch in the code for the lock that was sent to me by email. The decor is very homey, definitely done with love and time. I’m welcomed by a sweet older woman, who was tending to her indoor plants.

“Wang Mi-Ja?” I ask, hoping it was the landlord. She cheerfully nods.

“Please, call me Mimi” she introduces herself. I bow while she puts down her watering can.

“You must be Chae Hyun-Jae, I didn’t expect you to come early” she gestures to the stairs.

“Oh, I’m sorry” I apologize.

“No, don’t be sorry, hearing what Hyungwon says about you, I should’ve known you would be punctual” she grins, leading us up the stairs. She knows that Hyungwon is my brother?

“Hyungwon talks about me?” I worry.

“All good, sweetie. He told me about your application right after you sent it” Mimi unlocks the upstairs door. I hope him talking about me wasn’t the deciding factor in accepting me.

Touring around the apartment, I am so impressed by the space! Fully furnished. Updated appliances. An actual walk in shower next to a deep tub in the bathroom. There is a small dry-erase board by the front door that has a list of house rules.

No boys staying overnight.

Clean after yourself.

Don’t be too loud.

I get to my bedroom and it’s definitely better than the pictures Hyungwon sent me. I could see myself living here.

“Remember, you’re the first one here, the rest of the girls are moving in soon. Ji-Eun should be coming in later today, she will be staying in the first bedroom to the right. I left envelopes for everyone that has keys and facility numbers” Mimi informs.

“Thank you so much, you took wonderful care of the place” I compliment.

“Thank you, if you need me, I’ll be downstairs” she nods before exiting the apartment. This is so much better than my last place! Even if my roommates aren’t the best, I’m still going to enjoy this! Speaking of the roommates, who are these girls? Checking out the envelopes on the dining table, it seems like Mimi addressed them with the girls' names. Cecily Bradford, Phoebe Adler, Park So-Yi, and Lee Ji-Eun. Two Americans I see. This is going to be new, but nothing I can’t handle. I plop on the couch to get a feel for the living room. Wrapping myself in the soft throw blanket, I finally get the sense of “home”. The silence is cleansing. Yes, I grew up in a silent household, but at least this silence isn’t brewed by passive aggressive tension.

Brought a suitcase to my bedroom to slowly unpack. Filling up my dresser and closet before I start the rest of my room. There’s a knock on the front door, it must be Hyungwon.

I greet him at the door, his arms are full of food.

“Since today is your move-in day, I’m treating you to lunch” Hyungwon greets. That’s very sweet of him. It’s not unlike him to treat me to food, but I didn’t expect this much!

“Aw, thank you”. We set the table and enjoy the menagerie of delicious food.

“When do the rest of the girls come in?” Hyungwon pauses from eating.

“Ji-Eun is coming in today, everyone else I don’t know” I shrug.

“Are you and the boys excited to have new neighbors?”.

“Seeing pretty girls everyday sounds nice, but you’re living next door so I’m shit out of luck” he teases.

“Eh!” I exclaim, smacking his arm. He laughs like a mischievous child.

“I could catch someone's eye” I pout.

“Yeah, someone is going to wonder why this animal escaped the zoo” he cackles. “Come on, you make it easy”. I stick my tongue out at him.

“Tell me about your roommates. You told me their names before, but do you like them?” I wonder, changing the subject.

“They’re all great, closest things I could have for brothers” he nods.

“Then why don’t you talk about them more to me?”.

“I don’t know what I could say. They’re all so different, but we all get along so well”.

“I hope it’ll be the same way with me and the girls” I sigh.

“Doubt it. The last group of girls that lived here got into so many fights, some of the guys had to step in to stop them from hurting each other” he leans back. Oh shit, there’s no way! What could’ve prompted that fight? Why haven’t they moved out if they keep fighting?

“Did Mimi do anything about it?” I wonder.

“She gave them warnings, but nothing more than that. She didn’t know how violent they got, she only heard the yells” he shrugs. “I hope for your sake those girls can’t fight”.

“Oh stop, we’re not going to be like that” I shush him.

“Says you and you haven’t even met your roommates yet” he laughs.

“I have a room to myself, if things start getting nasty, I’ll just stay in my room” I compromise.

“That way if someone gets stabbed, you can perform first aid” he jokes. Ha ha, I get it, it’s because I’m a nursing student, how cute. Smartass. I roll my eyes.

“Whatever ever happened to that scholarship you applied for?” Hyungwon changes the subject. My taste turn sour. I didn’t want to be reminded of it, but I guess the truth has to come out.

“I didn’t get it. I asked the department head and they told me I was supposed to get it, but someone came in at the last minute and got it” I confess. Always second place. Every single time.

“Damn, how many times have you applied for it?” he continues. My skin begins to crawl. Please stop talking about it, I already felt the shame, I don’t want to see the disappointment in him. God help me if he tells my parents.

“Every semester for the past four years” I mumble, slouching in defeat.

“Well screw them. That’s the problem with those scholarships, they only see what the application says, they don’t know who the actual person is” he groans. Seeing his frustration worries me. He must be so disappointed that I didn’t get it.

“You’re not upset with me?” I avoid eye contact.

“Why would I? They’re the ones that messed up. You did your best and they failed to see that” he scoffs. That’s a better response than I’d hope for. If only our parents were that considerate.

“Hey” he nods at me. I look up from my bowl.

“Don’t let that stupid scholarship let you down. You’re a great student and even better nurse” he points at me. Although he can be a smartass, he still can find a way to make me feel better about myself.

“What boxes did you already bring in?” Hyungwon changed the subject.

“Just clothes. I didn’t bring my school supplies or kitchenware out of the car yet”.

“I’ll bring them in” Hyungwon insists before throwing his trash away. I put the rest of the food in the fridge, saving the leftovers for dinner. Hyungwon exits the apartment, heading to my car parked just outside. There’s a knock on the front door. Hyungwon? He doesn’t need to knock unless the door has accidentally locked behind him. I open the door and I see what seems to be a model from a magazine, grinning cheek to cheek.

“Hyun-Jae?” this gorgeous stranger asks.

“Ji-Eun?” my eyes widen.

🦋Ji-Eun🦋

This is the place! This place is so much closer to campus, only a short bus ride away! And with the price of rent, I can’t beat this. According to the landlord, a roommate should already be there. The interior reminds me of my grandmother’s house. It definitely smells like my grandmother, the classic choking perfume smell. A very distinct contrast from the exterior, a modern lively chic. Looking at the emails of information, the apartment is in the north staircase. The south staircase is for the boys. A group of men live here? Weird, but it's nice that the landlord is providing affordable housing to students, she must be making bank.

I knock on the door to the apartment, hoping she’s home. The door opens and I’m welcomed by a natural beauty. Her hair is up in a cute loose bun, complimenting her comfortable outfit of a print t-shirt and jeans. I feel a little overdressed for this occasion, wearing a dress and flats.

“Hyun-Jae?” I ask, hoping it’s her.

“Ji-Eun?”.

I cheer with glee. I always had good luck with roommates and I’m sure it’s going to be the same here.

I switch my shoes to my slippers and run around the living space, leaving my suitcase by the door. She’s obviously taken back by my behavior.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so excited” I apologize. I’m a bit more cheerful than the average person, everyone has a different attitude about it.

“It’s ok, I just didn’t expect you to be so...energetic” she hesitates.

“Don’t worry, just give me a minute and the adrenaline will wear off” I joke. There’s nothing wrong with being energized over a new chapter in your life. Getting closer to my goals is something to celebrate, right? I’m getting closer to finishing my second degree, a new environment will give me the final push to succeeding.

“Let me show you around” he smiles. The tour was brief, but I love the space! The furniture looks comfy, the energy in just the living room feels fresh. I take my suitcase to my bedroom. I can pick the bed?! A perk of being here early! I pick the bed by the window to enjoy the view.

“Do you know about the other girls?” I ask.

“I know their names, but that’s it. We’re going to have two American roommates I guess” she sighs. Two Americans? I had an American roommate before. Nice girl, had a hard time adapting.

“That sounds fun. It’s always cool to learn new things from them. A past roommate showed me how she made sandwiches and it changed my world” I keep to the bright side.

“You had roommates before?” she smiles.

“I have, very lovely girls. Have you had roommates before?” I nod.

“This is my first time with roommates. I’m excited that you all are going to be the firsts” she laughs. This girl is very sweet, but seems uptight. She’s probably just nervous, if her not having roommates before is true, then I totally understand the anxious feeling. I’m going to try to make this transition as fluid as possible for her. I wish I had that help when I was first on my own, the least I can do is do that for her.

“We’re lucky to have you”.

“Did you eat?” I add. She nods.

“Do you mind if I go grab some groceries for us till the rest of the girls come?” I gesture to the door.

“You don’t have to do that” she nervously laughs.

“I’m not going to get a lot, it’s ok” I insist. I mostly just want to see how close the store is to here.

“Let me grab my wallet and give you some money” she rushes to her room. I would be fine if I paid for it, but since it’s food for us, I don’t see why not split it. She gives me some cash and tells me to grab some freezer dumplings and dipping sauce. Simple enough. I was probably just going to grab some ramen and drinks.

Opening the front door, I bump right into someone holding a stack of large boxes. The boxes were tall enough I couldn’t see who’s behind them. Thankfully, the boxes aren’t knocked over.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going” a man’s voice groans.

“I’m so sorry!” I apologize, grabbing the other side of the boxes in case I knocked him off balance. I see a head pop over the side of the pillar of boxes. He’s very tall, I thought it was just the boxes that were tall! His eyes widen as if he saw a ghost. He’s pretty cute for a guy who just yelled at me. His lips look divine. His black hair looks long enough to put into a man bun.

“You’re not Hyun-Jae” he states. He must know her, lucky girl.

“Correct, I’m Ji-Eun” I introduce myself with a laugh. He bashfully smiles, pushing his bread cheeks out, making me want to pinch them.

“I’m Hyungwon” he chuckles. The mystery pole of a man has a name. He has such a cute little laugh. Very few laughs I’ve heard in my life are as contagious as his.

“I’m sorry for yelling, I thought you were my sister” he apologizes. That solves how he knows her.

“I’m sorry for bumping into you, come in” I move out of the way.

“It’s ok, you can go ahead” he moves away from the door.

“I was in your way, you go first” I justify for him to go first.

“Ladies first” he rebuttals. Checkmate huh? He turned quite charming rather quickly, hasn’t he?

“What a gentleman” I smirk at him. I walk past him and he’s broader than a pole. Why do I get the sense I’ve seen him somewhere before? I easily could’ve seen him at the store or something, but he’s the kind of man I would remember, right? He bites his lip, restraining himself from saying something, I assume something cutely foolish.

“I hope to see you later” I boldly mention. He raises his eyebrows in surprise. Is he surprised I want to see him?

“You will” he turns confident, giving me a wink.

#monsta x #monsta x fanfic #monsta x scenarios #monsta x imagines #monsta x fluff #monsta x university au #monsta x x oc #monsta x hyungwon #chae hyungwon

[erin-bo-berin]

Hope (Part 1)

I’m back (back again) with more Spencer fics. Shocker, right? Anyway, this is a two parter since I was afraid writing it all as one would be way, way too long. This mainly takes place during the prison Reid arc and is mostly similar to the actual storyline although I changed a few details. Hope you enjoy!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: Mature (smut, of course)

Word Count: 3,470

Read Part 2 called Faith here

The air was thick with anticipation; the tense, quiet atmosphere of the room making you even more anxious than you already were.

The toddler in your arms squirms and whines, clearly bored and unaware of the situation at hand. Shifting nervously, you tried to keep the memories that are threatening to flood your mind, at bay. It’s amazing how such a nondescript location could fill you with such a sense of nostalgia. Nonetheless, they were there. You stopped trying to resist them, hoping for a distraction from the current waiting. The memories flooded forward in your mind, your own personal movie playing in your head as you tuned out the world around you.

•

It all began nearly 3 years ago.

Your friend Emily had needed you to stop by and drop off a sweater she’d left at your place that week after a successful girls night in. Emily, being the unit chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, you joked that she was your boss too. She was just a naturally born leader—mind the cliché—and her boss persona never seemed to switch off, even in her private life.

“I feel weird coming all the way up here just to bring you a sweater,” you chuckle, handing it to her over her desk.

“Hey, you know you’re always welcome to pop in here. Besides you visit so much I’m starting to think security is gonna print you your own visitor’s badge just to keep you out of the lobby.”

“Ha ha,” you roll your eyes, hiding a grin.

It was no secret that you’d met Emily at her worksite before, but it was always downstairs. This was actually the first time you had visited the BAU, or seen her office for that matter.

“Nice office by the way,” you commented, glancing around, “Kinda bare though. Don’t you think it would look nice with some-”

“Okay,” Emily stood up, walking around her desk, “I don’t have to be a profiler to know that you’re getting ready to suggest a way to redecorate my office.”

“What can I say? It’s the interior designer in me,” you grinned, proud of your passion for design.

“I’ve got to get back to work, but we’re still on for dinner Friday right?”

“You bet.”

You turned to walk out of the doorway and collided right into someone, paper flying everywhere.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you said, bending down immediately to pick up and straighten the mess.

“Spence, I want you to meet my best friend, Y/N,” Emily called from behind you.

You knew her well enough that you could hear a smile in her voice, her biggest indicator that she was trying hard not to laugh. You looked up and saw a male around your age squat to help retrieve the papers that were clearly in his hand only moments before.

“Hey, nice to meet you. Er, bump into you, technically.”

He looked up, pushing his hair back from his eyes before holding out a hand. The brown curls immediately fell back toward his forehead as if he’d never touched them and warm eyes crinkled as he smiled. You faintly remembered shaking his hand, most likely dazzled by his attractive smile, one that lit his entire face. What you do remember is Emily calling your name.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

You realized you’d held on to his hand for just a moment too long before you jerked it away, your cheeks flaming in embarrassment.

“I said this is Dr. Spencer Reid, one of my team members.”

“Oh yeah, the one with a photographic memory?” You weren’t a stranger to Emily’s team even though you’d only heard about them and never actually met them.

“Eidetic, actually,” Spencer corrected you.

Once again you felt your cheeks heat. You weren’t normally this flustered around new people and you weren’t entirely sure why you were right now.

“Right. Sorry. I was just going. Nice to meet you and sorry again about the mess.”

You handed him the papers you’d picked up before sliding past him and out the door towards the exit. You hadn’t realized at the time what that chance encounter had started.

-

It wasn’t long after that when your visits to the BAU became much more frequent. You were starting to believe security did have your own visitor’s badge reserved for you. If she was suspicious of your actions, Emily didn’t say anything.

After your literal bump into Dr. Reid you felt a pull, something you couldn’t explain. Other than the fact that of course he was attractive. But you’d convinced yourself the first handful of times that you were simply there to see your friend.

You began to surprise her at work with lunch or her favorite latte from Starbucks, sometimes even creating excuses to go see her. One time you even purposely left your wallet in her office just so you had a reason to return the next day.

By that point you had met all of her team and would say hi, exchange a few hugs and quick words with them every time you dropped by. But when it came to Spencer...well let’s just say your words happened to be more loose and flirty. You couldn’t exactly read him though, his witty banter was just a trait of his.

Like a whirlwind, things began happening between the two of you. A simple kiss became fooling around which turned into sex. He didn’t have time for a relationship and wasn’t sure he even wanted one. You didn’t blame him, not sure yourself if you could even have a relationship with someone that had such a demanding job. The hookups were almost always sporadically; whenever he had time, whenever he was home, whenever you had a moment to breathe between clients. Sometimes you even blew off plans with Emily. Which is what happened that particular night.

The team had just gotten back into town after a case and she’d texted, questioning if you wanted to meet up for a late dinner. You had been about to answer her when an additional text came in.

My place?

You didn’t even have to glance at the sender to know it was Spencer. According to Emily, they’d literally just landed and for him to contact you so quickly, you knew it had to be a bad one. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that some of your booty calls were to help him forget things even if for just a little bit.

It had been a while this time, more than a month since you were last in his company and you couldn’t lie, you had needs yourself. You shot off a quick apology text to Emily that you were too tired and already in bed before you grabbed your keys and headed for the door.

You could feel the anticipation growing internally as you climbed the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. It had been more than 30 days since you felt his lips on your skin, since your fingers tangled in his curls, since he completely wrecked you and practically made you see stars.

Your knock was answered within seconds. You hardly had time to register his presence before he had pulled you in and pressed you against the closed door, his mouth hot on yours. His lips moved against yours, his hands on your hips pulling you into him. He wasn’t normally so rough, but maybe it’d been an agonizingly long time for him too.

“Feisty aren’t we?” you teased as his lips trailed your jaw.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he growled, pressing his hips into yours causing the words to die your throat.

You had a brief thought that it must’ve been about a rough case but it instantly vanished the moment his hand was down your pants. Your fingers fumbled with his tie although you could barely focus on the task as you felt yourself melt under his touch. His fingers grazed over your underwear and a shaky moan parted your lips. It was almost embarrassing how desperate you were for him at the moment. You could feel your pounding core only intensify when he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and attaching his lips to your throat.

“I want to fuck you against this door,” Spencer mumbled against your skin.

You momentarily felt your breath leave you. It wasn’t normal for him to talk like this, but it was sexy as hell and you couldn’t think of a better idea than having him take you right here and now.

Your answer was a groan of approval before you connected your lips to his, biting on his bottom lip. You felt a thrill of satisfaction when the action elicited a groan from him, your hands busy unfastening his pants and pushing them down his hips.

Clothes were haphazardly discarded in what could’ve only been a few minutes but felt like an eternity to you when all you wanted was him inside of you.

“Oh god, Spencer.” Your ragged moan made your words slur when he was finally inside of you.

You weren’t sure how it was possible but it was even better than you remembered. Your lips traveled up his jaw, teeth brushing his earlobe as you begged for more.

“Oh fuck, Y/N,” His jaw tightened, eyes closed as his thrusts sent him deeper within you. If you thought he’d driven you wild before, then that was nothing in comparison to this.

Your fingers gripped his hair, tugging on it as the heat began to form in the pit of your stomach. You could tell his own orgasm was fast approaching, his tell being the string of cuss words that would always unintentionally fall from his lips, too caught up in bliss to realize what he was saying.

His hand ran up your stomach to your breast before closing it over the mound, massaging it, thumb rubbing over your sensitive nipple. The contact sent a bolt of electricity all the way down south. Your legs tightened around his waist trying to pull him as deep as possible.

“Spence,” the nickname fell off your lips both accidentally and repeatedly, your high building so painfully slow.

His own came crashing down over him, breaking him as easy as glass. Sweat had dampened his hairline, a few tiny curls sticking to it, eyes closed as his face twisted in the pleasure of the moment, his teeth digging into the soft flesh of his bottom lip to keep from being so loud he’d disturb his neighbors.

Your hand snaked downward brushing your clit as you watched him, the sight so erotic it about made you climax from the sheer sight. You’re not sure when his fingers replaced yours but they sent you spiraling yourself as you beg him not to stop. Your moans are so loud, his mouth covers yours in an attempt to keep you quiet.

You’re both panting when your bodies still moments later and when he tries to set you down on the floor properly, your knees buckle and your legs feel like jelly.

You end up having sex twice more that night.

•

You’re pulled back to reality when you hear Penelope’s infamous high heels clicking down the hall towards where you and the surrounding few are standing.

“Emily said they’ll be here in 15 minutes.”

You nod, still half caught up in your memories. Before you can hear anything else going on, you’re pulled back under.

•

“Are you sleeping with Reid?”

The question came nine weeks after that one night. You almost choke on your coffee wondering how the hell Emily could be so blunt about it. Even though it was true, it was enough to make the tips of your ears burn just thinking of the—sometimes—raunchy rendezvous between the two of you. It’d only happened a handful more times lately but only because you’d started denying his offers a time or two. It was starting to leave you with a weird feeling after the act, one you couldn’t describe. It also made you kind of queasy too now.

“What makes you say that?” you half laugh, feigning nonchalance.

You should’ve known better than to try to fake it with: a) your best friend and b) your best friend who is also an excellent profiler.

“Y/N come on. You’ve been blowing me off for months now. Every time you’re around each other you’ve always got these secret glances and looks going on between the two of you. You act differently around each other now. The same kind of different that would come with two people who’ve been sleeping with one another. Let me not remind you how you left your wallet in my office to purposely come see him once.”

You winced, “You caught on to that?”

Her answering look is enough to tell you that of course she did.

“Look I don’t care what you do in your romantic life, you know that. It’s just- I’m protective of Spencer. I’ve known him since he was just a kid in the beginning of his FBI days.”

“You’ve known me practically all of my life,” you pointed out.

“Reid is different though. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“And you want me to?”

��No, of course not! He just deals with things differently. He’s not good at showing his emotions.”

“Sounds like most men,” you intoned.

“Y/N, I’m serious,” Emily said, putting down her drink to look at you.

“He’s tough when it comes to work, but he just doesn’t know how to process his feelings well. Even he’s admitted it to me before. I just don’t want to see him hurt. If there’s any inclination that things are becoming more than they are and it’s not a reciprocated feeling, you need to end it.”

You would’ve scoffed at the statement if she wasn’t dead serious. If only she knew.

“I just don’t want him to have bit off more than he can chew when it comes to this.”

“I understand. But I think it’s a bit too late for that.”

“What do you mean?” Emily’s brow furrowed.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

•

Six months later, Abrielle—Abbie for short—was born. The spitting image of her father too, all the way down to the chameleon dimples as you call them; the ones that only really shine when they make certain expressions.

You did tell Spencer of course, not long after that conversation with Emily. He was and is still supportive and a good father. You decided not to be together for the sake of the baby and ended up co-parenting. It’d been a year and a half with your precious little girl and so far things have seemed to go smoothly. Other than the fact that you’d fallen head over heels in love with Spencer Reid.

It was true that you didn’t know much about each other in the months you’d spent together physically, but over the months of the pregnancy and as Abbie grew bigger, you learned a lot.

He loved Halloween, a big reason why you gave in to painting your 6 month belly a pumpkin for Halloween. He absolutely hated chopsticks, in which he said: “it was like foraging for food with a pair of number two pencils”. He enjoyed classical music; he absolutely insisted the baby listen to Mozart (which he prefers over Beethoven). He’d been shot three times; once in the knee, once in the neck and once in the arm. He memorized the delivery manuals when his fellow team member and best friend JJ was pregnant with her first son, just in case she went into labor in the field. He’s good at magic, he has three PhD’s, he loves learning. His mother has both schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s. He would do anything for the people he loves.

Which is one of the reasons you’re standing here currently.

You shift Abbie to your other hip as you watch the glow of the elevator numbers light up, the elevator getting closer and closer.

Had it really only been half a day ago when Emily had called and told you to meet her down at Quantico? At the time you hadn’t thought anything of it. You’d put Abbie in her car seat and driven over. It was only when you got there that you felt like your world had fallen out from under you.

You were filled in by the team that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico with drugs in his possession. None of it made any sense. There was no reason for Spencer to be in Mexico, no way he’d have drugs with him. But it was true. He was in a Mexico jail, high as a kite. Something else you couldn’t wrap your head around. He hadn’t touched any drugs since he got clean after being addicted to Dilaudid. That’s something else you’d learned about him, something he’d confessed during one of the many talks you’ve had with him.

You sat absentmindedly trying to keep Abbie preoccupied in your lap as everything around you seemed to move in slow motion yet too fast at the same time.

Emily, Rossi and Luke had jumped on the jet to head down there immediately while you, Tara, JJ and Penelope stayed behind. The others were working hard, trying to help him, trying to figure out what had happened. When Penelope showed you his mugshot it became real.

“Daddy,” Abbie grinned, pointing to the laptop screen as if she could reach through it and touch him.

He hadn’t looked good. You were scared to death. Then bad news became worse when a body had been found, a woman he was there to meet had been murdered. He was formally charged with the murder and was almost sent to a Mexican prison before thankfully he was extradited back to the U.S. just in time. Small mercies.

It wasn’t until they were on the way home that you found out he was there for Diana. He was trying everything he could to help his mother’s illnesses. You wanted to be mad at him but you couldn’t. It was just a part of who he was, wanting to help his loved ones.

Obviously, you along with the others knew he was innocent. Proving it was going to be an uphill battle though. Apparently a serial killer the BAU had been dealing with for years, was framing him. You felt so helpless, knowing you couldn’t do a thing.

That’s how you ended up rooted to this spot where you were standing. Simply waiting to see those elevator doors open, not knowing what to expect.

As if the mechanism had read your mind, the doors opened revealing the four. He was in jeans and a plaid shirt, an FBI jacket over his hands. You knew it was covering his cuffed hands. You’d been warned beforehand. Your heart squeezed at the solemn and melancholy look about him.

You let the others greet him, standing back a bit to let them have their moment. After Garcia had hugged him, she motioned for you and you shuffled forward awkwardly, not quite able to hug him fully with Abbie in your arms. You hooked one arm around his neck as best as you could to hug him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, “The team is gonna help you. I’ll do anything I can to help as well.”

“Daddy!” Abbie squealed, trying to wiggle out of your arms.

You tighten your grip on her, leaning her towards Spencer.

“Hey Abbie-bear,” he said, using the nickname he’d been calling her since before she was born.

“Daddy,” she whimpered, reaching her arms for him, not understanding why he couldn’t hold her.

“You be good for your mommy, okay?” His voice cracks before he leaned over and kissed her head.

Abbie’s whimpers go quickly from simple fussing to full blown crying when he doesn’t take her.

“We gotta go,” Luke said, putting a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “Rossi and I are going to escort him to the state penitentiary.”

You nodded, your own tears threatening to spill as they walk away. Abbie’s wails increased in volume, almost deafening by now.

“Daaaaaddy!”

You’re heartbroken at her wails and feel like breaking down yourself. Thankfully JJ offers to take her to calm her down and her crying fades as they recede behind closed doors further into the unit.

“Now what?” you whisper helplessly.

You feel a hand in yours and look over to see Penelope with tears in her own eyes. She squeezes your hand before responding.

“Hope. We have hope that we, this team, will clear his name; because right now, hope is all we’ve got.”

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid gifs #criminal minds gifs

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

The Hunter Who Loved Me (Part 1)

Series Page

Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Jack Kline, Dean x OFC

Series Summary: Part Three of Some Sunny Day. Dean's trying to balance his new relationship with Julie and his need to hunt. How long can he keep it from her? And can Julie keep her curiosity at bay?

Section Word Count: 6300

Section Content: language, fluff, dirty talk, smut, Domestic!Dean, Slight Dom!Dean

How did I get so lucky? That this was turning into just another day in her life with Dean Winchester made her shake her head. This has to be what it feels like to win the lottery.

Julie sprayed the top of the sliding glass door with a window cleaner. She took time to enjoy all the sexiness on the other side of the glass, the view of Dean in her backyard, while attending to her household chore. A few final touches and Dean would be done with the assembly. Crouched down and bent at the knees, Dean added some utensil hooks to the side of the grill. Unknowing, he was giving her all of that gorgeous, serious profile of his to study. Sunshine streaked through his hair and flamed the fiery orange-red tips incognito most of the time. She wiped away the cleaner slipping over her view. 

The grill had been an impromptu purchase on her end the weekend before. She and Dean had gone to, of all places, a home improvement store together. He had noticed a couple things around her house that needed fixing. But he wanted to run the ideas past her and some options before he went ahead and did anything. It was very domestic and thoughtful of him. It brought a huge grin to her face. 

He’d snuck a peck on her cheek when they were alone in the garden and patio center, talking about the drop in price of some seasonal stuff. His eyes lit up at a behemoth gas grill. He whistled and spouted off the stats: three burners, one on the side, plus a sear station burner to boot. The sucker could deliver 60,000 BTUs, which according to Dean, was awesome. Those meaty, handy fingers of his glided over the stainless steel top. Julie heated up.

It was decided that since Julie was throwing Brigida a surprise birthday party that following weekend and the October weather was pleasant enough, why not buy a grill and make it an outdoor affair. Most of the guests would end up outside anyway. Would Dean be keen on manning the meat for her? Julie tossed the unintentional innuendo out and had the six foot plus Adonis blushing in the middle of the display floor.

Satisfied with the streak free glass, Julie went out to check on Dean’s status. He leaned up from his work position and smiled. “All good. She’s ready for action. Just lit her up.”

Julie nodded, sighing in relief. “Cutting it close.” A couple hours from now the guests would arrive. And Brigida would definitely be on time, if not earlier, an hour after that.

“Yeah. But, it only took me threatening three store clerks at nine am this morning. Pulled a working igniter out of the floor model to get this baby up and running.” He waved both hands in the air with a flourish. “Now, we’re golden. No more nose crinkles. The meat’s marinating in your fridge.” He cocked a thumb over to Wes and Samuel’s house. “They’ve got the booze covered and some side dishes.”

“You need me to dash out for anything else before I finish up my food and the cookies to go along with the ice cream cake?”

He shook his head and drew her in by the waist, their bodies snug. “You trust me with all that fire power?”

Her hand rubbed over his vintage AC/DC t-shirt right under the collar. Sweat stippled his brow from the running around and grill tweaking. The mix of it with his sharp, clean soap scent got her warm and tingly. God, how does he make sexy so effortless? “You can handle it. I’m no Prometheus. You should worry more about my mom trying to take over the grill once she gets here.”

“Hey, it’s her birthday. If she wants the tongs and spatula, I’ll hand them over and be her sous chef.”

Julie smiled. “She’d probably love that.”

He grinned and bent down to dust her bottom lip with his mouth. “How many we gotta feed again?”

She rattled off the memorized total. “Twenty-two, not including us. Fifteen adults, three kids, two teenagers, and two dogs.”

Dean tipped his head. “Piece of cake.”

Julie smirked. “Not pie?”

His fingers flirted over the denim covering her ass. “Saving your pie for later.” He leaned down again for a deeper kiss.

Julie’s backyard had never seen such activity. Lawn chairs scattered over the freshly mowed lawn. Stacey and Carl’s two older children, Evan, 10, and Rory, 7, played cornhole in the driveway. Brigida had latched onto their youngest boy, two year old Dylan, right after everyone had given her a Happy Birthday surprise welcome. Karen’s boyfriend, Carter, the New York Mergers and Acquisitions lawyer, Wes, and Carl kept Dean company by the grill. He seared chicken, flipped hot dogs, checked and rechecked the pork ribs, sipped his beer, and took doneness requests for the beef burgers. 

Samuel chatted under the covered patio with Karen, Stacey, Cat and her partner Sheila, along with the handful of Brigida’s Little Italy neighbors that had made the short trek out of the city to celebrate. Karen’s teenage boys hid most of the time, busy on their phones under the shade of the carport. Julie attempted to involve Karen’s oldest, Khaleel - a sullen 16 who more than likely wanted to be anywhere else - asking if he would man the playlist blaring out of the portable bluetooth speaker. The younger by two years, Kevin, emerged from his cocoon to explain TikTok to Dean. The explanation only furrowed the cook’s brow even more.

Julie caught Dean’s this-is-for-the-guests smile settle into the I’m-actually-kinda-glad-to-see-you version when Cas and Jack finally showed up. Cas had picked up some weekend shifts to make ends meet. Jack was still working his side job as much as he could, balancing school, to save up for his trip to Texas over Winter Break. He was going to MIRL with this fantasy girl if it was the last thing he ever did. At least, that was the confession he had told Julie as the four hung out for a movie and pizza over Dean’s a month back.

Cas took his usual post at Dean’s right side by the grill. Julie glanced over every so often at the comical duo. Somewhere between Abbott and Costello and Martin and Lewis. Dean monitored his friend’s interactions with the new group of men. If Cas needed to pull back on the conversation a bit or shift to another topic, Dean cued him with a slight shake of a head or cough. Cas held his beer in a fierce grip and mimicked Dean when he took a sip. God, there is so much codependency there. What they hell did they go through together? Dean gave Jack a pair of tongs and had him man the second round of dogs. Jack smiled from ear to ear like a teenager getting the keys to the car after passing his driver’s license. And, he’s like a second dad to that kid.    

As was always the case in hosting, and determined to not have her mom lift a finger, Julie barely had time to relax or eat for the first hour of the party. She made sure the other food got served when Dean plattered and presented grilled meats. The two of them used a lot of hand gestures and miming to coordinate everything. Dean would every so often switch things up and make Julie blush with a few obscene ones.   

Once Dean had been schooled by Cat on Salt and Pepa’s breeds - a Samoyed and Belgian Sheepdog, respectively - he had them eating out of and drooling into his hands for scraps. Cas and Jack procured a frisbee from the outdoor toys and tossed it back and forth with the kids. The dogs played monkey in the middle.

Dean called out to Julie once everyone else was situated and eating. “Jules! Got a medium-well burger with your name on it, ready in a minute.” He winked over. She set the last of the latest round of drinks in front of guests and gave him a thumbs up.

Stacey cooed. “Knows just how you like your meat, does he?”

The old college friends did their share of giggling and cackling. Julie pointed a finger from Samuel to Stacey. “No more of your red wine for this one.” 

Carl tapped his wife’s knee. “Take it easy, sweetie.” Stacey gave her husband a slobbery raspberry on the cheek.

“That is a sweet ride.” Carter pointed to Baby in Dean’s driveway as her owner snuck behind Julie. He presented a cheeseburger on a perfectly toasted bun. Julie smiled at the lettuce, tomato, onions and pickles - all her favorites - already on top. The charred meat and fixings smelled divine. Her stomach grumbled. A side glance noted her mom’s own smiling face. Brigida stared over at the both of them while talking to the two older couples.

“Well, you can take a look under the hood later if you want, Carter. Rebuilt her more times than I can count.” He whispered in Julie’s ear. “Eat something before you pass out.”

She grinned, wanting to tease that he sounded like Brigida, but thought better of it. Stacey and the crew were watching their interactions like hungry vultures, ready to pounce on anything too tasty to tease about.

“So, Dean, if the ladies have another girls’ night, maybe we can get us a poker game over at my house.” Carl interjected.

Sheila chimed in, “Only if I can join.”

Julie overheard Cas whisper to Dean in confusion. “Wouldn’t Sheila be a part of girls’ night?”

Dean muttered back, “Not if she has better taste in music than the rest of them.”

Carter shook his head. “Oh, God, you wiped me out last time we played poker Sheila.”

Dean cocked a brow and gave Sheila a lopsided grin. “Some actual competition. Sounds like we gotta make that happen soon.”

Sheila tipped her beer to Dean and gave his frame a thorough inspection.

“My poker skills would benefit from someone new to play with, as well.” Cas nodded to Sheila. “I know all of Dean’s tells at this point. It’s getting rather boring.”

Sheila patted the empty seat next to her. “You might be my new best friend, then, Cas.”

Cas smiled and puffed out his chest.

Dean whispered to Julie, “Should I break the news that he hasn’t a shot in hell?”

Karen helped Julie with some of the kitchen cleanup before dessert. It was really a ruse for alone time and girl talk.

“How was it?” Karen asked in a hushed tone, in case anyone snuck in. She’d known about Julie going on birth control again. Had actually been the one to give her the idea in the first place.

“Which time?” Julie smiled. “We’ve been at it every night since the middle of this week when I surprised him.” She added. “Sometimes two or three times.”

“Jesus. Two or three? Carter’s five years younger than me and two times in one night has never… never happened. Three?” Karen fanned herself over the sink and running water. “How are you handling all that man, Jules?” Her brown eyes widened while she rinsed plates to drop in the dishwasher. 

Julie answered by holding her hands apart to approximate Dean’s length.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Karen’s voice raised. She slapped a palm over her mouth at the outburst. Water and suds flew everywhere.

Julie crossed a finger over her chest, blinking at the water that splashed her face. “When have I lied under oath?” 

“Be careful or you’re going to get a UTI.” She added in a whisper, “From all that fucking.”

Julie laughed. “I booked a follow up with my gyno as soon as I got the prescription. I see her next week.” She whispered back. “Kar, it was amazing, mind blowing before this. But now, it’s like…” Julie trailed off, daydreaming about her lover in the backyard. Her insides sore, throbbing with the memory of him; a deep and beautiful stoking she couldn’t wait to experience again. 

“I think Carter and Carl have crushes on him.” Karen shook her head. “Carter might come in his pants if he gets that car tour.”

“Don’t tell Cat, but I think Sheila might be crushing, too.” Julie giggled.

“We heard that!” Stacey and Cat screamed in unison. Karen and Julie screamed back in shock. Cat, a bit tipsy herself this afternoon, sported a toothy grin. From Julie’s vantage, she was lighter than usual, airy even. One of her arms draped over Stacey’s shoulders as the duo sashayed into the kitchen.

“Only speaking the truth.” Karen raised a hand as the other still clutched her chest at the friendly fright.

Stacey waved a hand. “I get dibs on Dean when Jules is done with him.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Julie rolled her eyes. “Not planning on it anytime soon, Stace.”

Cat opened her mouth. Her eyes caught the threat Julie’s eyes beamed with an intentional telepathy. Cat snapped her jaw shut before the other ladies noticed.

“Not fair to keep all the juicy details to yourself.” Stacey whined, sliding out from Cat’s grip and into one of the kitchen chairs. She slumped over the table, elbow propped, cradling her chin in a manicured hand. “Some of us have needs.” She sighed.

Cat leaned against a counter, eyes glazed behind her glasses. “I think Brigida’s had one too many.”

Julie was happy for the segway but not pleased with the content. She settled her own glasses against the bridge of her nose in a nervous tick. “Really? A saw her with a glass of wine. But, she usually only has a little.”

“I think Wes and Samuel made her a special birthday cocktail.”

“Ugh.” She wiped both hands down across her face. “Love ‘em but those men and their alcohol.”

Stacey did her best pigeon impression again. “Do you love ‘em as much as Dean?”

A very deep throat clearing had all four ladies turn their head to the hallway. Dean stood there carrying a huge empty platter covered in meat bits and juices. “Am I interrupting something?” Julie blushed at the proud grin on his face. He skimmed past Stacey’s seated frame. Stacey was eye level with the denim hugging his ass and licked her lips. He excused himself again and slid around Cat, lifting the platter over Julie’s head winding past, to end up near Karen by the sink. “This is a nasty one. Let me take care of this, Karen.” He offered.

She shook her head. “Hand it over. Least we can do after you did such a stellar job at the grill. You got Kevin to eat a burger that doesn’t come in a fast food bag.”

“That is high praise. Thanks.” He smiled and gave Julie a once over before asking, “Anything else have to go out?”

“You think I should grab the ice cream cake out of the basement fridge?”

“It might be a good idea soon.” Dean shrugged. “Everyone’s either winding down or is pretty hammered.” He glanced over at Stacey.

Julie nodded and pointed at the counter behind him. “Would you take that tray out with the dessert plates and all the other necessities? Pretty please?”

He winked. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Stacey groaned. “Ugh. Could you two reel in the cuteness?”

Julie ignored the request. “Thank you. Cat.” She turned to ask her friend. “Wanna help me with the cake?” 

“Um, sure.” Cat hesitated.

When they got down to the basement, Julie listened to ensure Dean’s heavy steps had made their way out the sliding door and Stacey and Karen were busy talking in the kitchen.

“I’m not the best person to ask to carry a cake upstairs.” Cat mumbled.

“You can spot me.” Her hand rested on the fridge handle. “Speaking of looking out for me…”

“I know. I haven’t reached out much since that last conversation we had.” Cat shrugged. “You sounded happy that night, with him. I figured I should mind my own business for once and stop investigating.”

“Thank you, Cat.” Julie smiled.

“He seems decent, Julie. A good guy, even. Simple. Easy.” Cat waved a hand. “I don’t mean either of those things as a negative.”

Julie laughed. “I know. But, trust me, he’s anything but simple or easy to figure out.” She tilted her head. “I’ve been thinking... would you send me over a couple of those books you found?”

Cat pursed her lips. “I’ll think about it.”

It was ten o’clock by the time Dean and Julie finished with a majority of the clean up from the party. The last dishwasher load had been started, all the guests had gone home, and Brigida was fussing in the kitchen. Dean looked like a very uncomfortable giant next to the birthday lady.

“I don’t need-ah to stay.” Brigida insisted. “Dean-ah can take me home.” Her Italian accent was a lot heavier laced with alcohol.

“No, Dean can’t. None of us should be driving, Ma. We’ve all had a bit too much to drink. You have your extra meds here in your room. You’re going to take them, drink lots of water, and go to bed.”

She waved her hands. “I don’t want to be in the way.”

Julie rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Brigida, we just threw a party for you. How could you think you’re in the way?” Dean asked with true sincerity in his voice.

“Dean-ah.” She clutched his forearm. “I don’t want-ah you to run home. And, I know-ah this one won’t leave me in the house alone-ah. Thinkin’ I won’t be able to walk twenty steps without falling over and knocking myself out-ah.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, I’m pretty tired. Long day.”  

“Ma, Dean can stay over if he wants to.” Julie widened her eyes to encourage Dean to play along.

“Ye-yeah. Sure. We’re both exhausted.” He faked a long yawn and stretched out an arm. “Sooo tired. Gonna conk out as soon as my head hits the pillow.”

Brigida grinned. “You are a bad liar.” She tapped his tummy. “Fine. I’ll get myself ready for bed.” She raised both arms at Julie. “Appy?”

“Very happy.” Julie smiled. “Need me to help you with anything?”

“No.” Brigida motioned for Dean to bend down. She gave him a very long mama bear hug and then squeezed a cheek. “Thank you.”

Julie’s heart warmed at the interaction.

His facial features squirmed under Brigida’s vice grip. “Welcome.”

When she retracted her fingers, she announced, “I’ll be up early cleanin’ and makin’ breakfast.” She shuffled out of the kitchen. Her loud voice rang out in the hallway. “Don’t come down here naked in the morning, Dean-ah. Not-ah unless you got plans for me.”

Dean snorted as Julie yelled. “Ma!” 

Dean shook his head. “She’s even more of a pistol drunk.” He wrapped arms around Julie when they were alone. “I’ll hang out until she’s in her room and sleeping. I don’t think it’ll take long. Help you clean up some more. Then, I’ll duck out.” His kiss was soft and warm.

Julie hummed. “You heard her. She’s making you breakfast.” She shrugged. “You can stay.”

Dean smiled. “Sweetheart, if I stay, we won’t be sleeping.”

“Good.”

They took turns in the upstairs bathroom. Dean first, as usual, since Julie took longer with her nighttime skin routine. Cleanser, applied to her face in gentle circular motions, wiped away the makeup and sweat from the day. Cool water splashed against her skin. Splashes of moments from the party entered her mind. Her mom’s absolute shock and then subsequent soft crying at the surprise. Stacey wrangled the girl power squad together for a group selfie. It would post onto the social medias before Stacey got well and fully sloshed. Cas pulled her to the side to give her a genuine, heartfelt thank you for the invitation. Jack assisted with the dish clearing without even having to be asked. Mom’s ancient, pudgy neighbor, Lydia, who didn’t move once from her seat under the patio, tugged at Julie’s wrist to tell her she needed to do a better job holding onto this man than the last one. 

She patted away most of the wetness with a face towel. This man. She opened the medicine cabinet to put away some items and grab the moisturizer. Everything she disliked about her face on bright display under the bathroom lighting. The pads of her fingers danced over the circles under her eyes and some of the wrinkles forming around her mouth. All those old Italian women and their snarky little comments. Wondering what Dean’s doing with me. Even with all of his secrets and all that she still didn’t know, she still felt that tug of insecurity. Not being good enough. His imperfections, the cracks appearing over the months of infatuation and obsession with this man, were making themselves known. But they were all things she could handle and cast aside at the end of the day. Because all it took was that one second of his eyes locking with hers in that way. That very Dean way. Craving it in that moment, she hurried and worked the cream into her skin.

She entered the dark bedroom. The only illumination was from the television, the volume low and muffled. White light from the screen flashed like lightning over Dean, laid out on the still made bed. 

He had slipped on the grey and blue plaid pajama bottoms Julie bought him. She picked them up as an afterthought one Sunday shopping when he’d started staying over a couple times a week. He came across them, folded and waiting, on the unspoken but understood side of Julie’s bed that was now his. A lopsided grin had been given as thanks.

There was a reason I didn’t buy him a shirt. A remote in hand rested on his tummy and that luscious bare chest. He cradled his head atop two pillows with his other palm; his biceps curled, primed, and ready for action. Legs crossed at the ankles and his foot swayed with an ancy rhythm. The image of him stretched out imprinted in her brain under the bright pops of light as if someone were taking lots of polaroids of this magnificent specimen.  

He turned to her, smiled, then whispered, “Wanna watch something?” The remote was used as a pointing device toward the floor. “I can’t tell if that’s a chainsaw or your mom snoring.”

Julie nodded. “I told you, you can hear everything in this house.”

“Maybe soundproofing needs to be another project.” He frowned. “This is going to be torture.”

She giggled low and soft, hands on her hips, cinching in her oversized nightshirt. “Why?”

His fingers skirted over the comforter creeping in her direction. “Cause I want to make you moan like the other night.” 

That very Dean way. The sexy stare made her smile drop. “Thought you were tired.”

“Come here, sweetheart.” He gave her a chin nod.

Julie sighed and eased onto the bed, aware of every creak and squeak. “Karen was right.”

“‘Bout what?” He opened an arm. His embrace clutched her to his warm chest.

She snuggled in. “You’re going to give me blushing bride syndrome.”

“A blushing what now?”

His lips pressed to hers cut off an immediate response. She nibbled on his chin when he released. “Too much sex. You know, can cause issues down there.”

He pulled back to study her face. “I’m not going to apologize for wanting you.”

“Not asking you to.” She pressed into him.

Mischief lined his lips. “Maybe I should take it easy on you. Give you a break. Since we have to be quiet and all.” He flashed the all-knowing, hot shit grin that stopped her heart. “I mean, we know you can’t keep that dirty little mouth of yours shut when mine’s all over you... or inside you.” His voice was husky and gritty, breathing near her ear. 

“Oh, really?” She whispered her retort. “Who was the one panting and groaning last night about how hard he was going to come?”

Dean latched onto one of her knees. The pull dragged a thigh to rest over his hip. His warm hand traveled and danced along her skin. It snuck under the night shirt; pushed it high up past her waist. Fingers clutched at the top of her bare ass and kneaded. He shifted into her more and wedged their bodies tight. “Nah. You couldn’t have heard that. You were too busy screaming my name over and over.”

A jarring motor-like sound drifted up from Brigida’s bedroom for only a second. They froze in place. Dean chuckled. Tangled together, Julie rested a finger on his mouth. “Shhh.” She pressed into the softness of his perfect pout with more force and threw in a nose crinkle for good measure.

“I wasn’t going to say anything…” His lips struggled to release the words under her finger. Julie had learned early on upon their meeting that Dean enjoyed teasing out a variety of reactions from her.

She sighed and relented the tiny attempt at restraint. “What?”

“When you were in the bathroom earlier and I got a good listen of it all. Actually had something to compare it to.” He paused. “You snore like your mom.” His grin spread slow and wide, lips pursed tight.

Julie’s eyes widened on defense. “No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.” He nodded, still grinning, lifting his brow for emphasis. “Get so loud.” A slight, controlled circling of those strong hips began. The motion matched the sensual rhythm of his verbal descriptions. “You start off so nice and quiet. Then it’s up. And up. And up. Like a freight train in here some nights, sweetheart.”

A few more seconds of silence followed. “Shit.” That was the only admission Julie would allow, listening to his description of her inherited sleeping habits while succumbing to the wondrous feel of his body lighting her up. “Don’t compare me to my mother while doing that, Dean.”

Dean laughed and gave her another chin nod in victory. “Still. Proves my point. Can’t help yourself. Way louder and noisier than I could ever be.” 

Julie nuzzled close, finding the tunnel under his arm. Firm strokes down the slope of his back relished in the heat vibrating through his body. She ran a thumb back and forth over that plump pillow of a bottom lip. “You were the one that almost broke my headboard. Remember? Talk about noise.” And talk about fucking hot. “White knuckling it to get some leverage, slamming it into the wall.” His mouth parted and a hunger filled his gaze. She grinned at the erection hardening more in the pajamas against her patch of curls. “While you were slamming into me.”

He caught her thumb with a clench of teeth. His tongue flirted along the pad before he sucked at it with a low moan. His lips released it when he whispered back. “That was a memorable fuck, sweetheart. You under me. Letting me ride you so hard. Wish I could pound you like that for days. Wreck us both.”

“Jesus, Dean.” Julie moaned, rocking soft against his clothed cock.  “There wouldn’t be anything left of me.”

The hand left her ass, skirted under the shirt. Those meaty fingers landed on the curve of her breast and massaged into bliss. “But what a way to go.” He groaned, then peeled away enough to dip down and mouth a nipple through the shirt. “Shit, got me so hard.” He spoke between licks and sucks. “I wanna fuck you. All. The. Time.” The warmth and wet of his mouth soaked through to the taut nub. “All I could think about today was getting you alone. Here. Like this.” He nudged at the material with his nose to expose the dark, pebbly flesh to the air and his mouth. “Sliding inside you again. Nothin’ but me and you.” He suckled at her tit. When he came up for air and met her gaze, he whispered in that smoke and honey tone. “It feels like home inside you, Jules.”

Dean’s eyes lit up with another flash from the television. Glassy, eager and laser focused with intent. He always downplayed his ability to convey and verbalize feelings. But that confession, those six words - It feels like home inside you - made her whole body shiver. Like the night they’d first had sex. You feel so safe. It had been four little words back then. Not THOSE three little words. But it was pretty damn close.

“I think we should give ourselves a challenge.” The seriousness faded from his face, replaced with that impish grin. “A quiet, well contained, controlled fucking.”

Julie giggled, her body still buzzing from his actions and words. Her hands answered, pulling the pajamas down past his ass. He lifted up from the mattress an inch to assist with the disrobing. The fabric bunched around his knees.

He groaned when she tugged at his cock, free and rigid. She curled toes and peeled the material down far enough so he could shake his feet out the rest of the way. “Turn around, baby.” His voice held an authoritative tone. “Everything. Off.”

In the process of her slow and quiet one-eighty flip she rid herself of the nightshirt. The cool air in the room prickled at hot skin. He moaned at the sight. “That’s not being quiet.” She tisked.

He lassoed her in with a bear hug, onto her side, this time her back sealed along his chest. A haphazard pull at the band released the ponytail. His fingers brushed away strands. Searing lips attacked the exposed flesh of her neck. “Are you gonna be good for me?”

She stifled a moan and nodded.

“Hm.” Fingers slid into the folds, finding the wetness. “Very good so far.” He pushed farther in and searched. Circled her entrance. “All this for me already?” He groaned in her ear. “Goddamn, I wanna get my mouth on that. But we know you really can’t contain yourself when my face is between your legs.” Those fingers ended up at his mouth. She could smell her excitement, inches away. The sound of his lips sucking and his moans stoked her need. “Maybe a challenge for the morning.” He thought aloud.

His body, large and eclipsing, leaned up, shifting. His cock slid between the cheeks of Julie’s ass like a heat seeking missile. She let out a pitiful whine and bit her lip. They hadn’t even talked about that as an option. But every time his cock got tantalizingly close the thought had crossed her mind. She’d never wanted to try, not even with Steve. But Dean. Dean made her want to experience everything.

The sex with Dean had been many things over the past months: fun, playful, sweet, luxuriating, romantic, fast, rough, hard, naughty, and tons of dirty talk. Yet, none of that fifty shades stuff or roleplaying she had anticipated. Almost vanilla sex in comparison from what her mind could conjure up. 

Almost, but never vanilla. Not with Dean. It was that French Vanilla ice cream that you’d get at a family owned creamery worth a two hour drive. One made by an artisan, churned by hand. One bursting with flecks of vanilla bean hitting all the taste buds. It was rich, creamy, indulgent, velvety, cool, lolling about on your tongue, savoring the flavor in the moment, crystalizing a memory for wonderful recollections.  

Still, there was a palpable restraint by Dean, holding back, in terms of physical limits even if never in vocal declarations. Sometimes she thought she could feel the inner shift in Dean. It could be an imperceptible tell if their bodies weren’t so connected; a retraction of his muscles under that worn skin and the myriad of scars she would cling to in mounting desperation of the most amazing kind. He never out and out stated it. Dean never would. But she felt like the pilot in this jet when it came down to it. He was her trusty co-pilot, offering suggestions but always adhering to the final decision, charting her course, making sure she stayed on track, allowing her control. Allowing her safety. 

“No one’s gonna be quiet if we give that a try tonight.” Dean read her mind, again keeping her on track with the original plan. He scooted down, cupping her figure with his. “Any other night, sweetheart, you let me know.” He dotted her back with kisses and wedged a knee between her legs. The motion splayed her bottom half, spreading her. His palm crooked under her knee, bent it just so. “But, this way.” The cock tip pressed at the entrance. “I think we can both get what we need and not wake sleeping beauty.” He licked little patches along her shoulder blade. “What’s that thing you always say?”

Jesus, why is he teasing me now? “When?” She huffed out.

“When you come over and decide to clean up my kitchen.”

“No muss, no fuss?”

He rumbled into her back and began the slide. Inside. “Yeah. That’s it. No Muss. No Fuss.” His large palm grabbed at her breast, latched onto it, thumbed the nipple. She could feel the strength of his hips guiding the wondrous length and girth of his cock. He bottomed into her and stopped. She wanted to feel how tight his ass was clenched in that moment. Sought it out with a hand and squeezed. “Hm.” He approved of the action. “How does that feel, sweetheart?” His voice, low, deep.

“You feel so good inside me Dean. You feel good everywhere.” She moaned when the controlled pistoning switched on. 

“Hm. So, the quiet part is gonna be impossible for you, huh?”

She moaned again, softer, she thought. “This is me being quiet.”

“Baby?” He moaned out the question.

“Yeah?”

“Would you be alright if I helped keep you quiet?”

A fire lit up in her belly. “Yeah.”

He groaned. An arm threaded between her rocking body and the mattress. His hand slid up her chest, over her neck, her jaw. Settled over her mouth. “If it’s too much.” He panted. “If I get too carried away, you tap. Okay?”

She tapped his ass cheek to confirm she understood. Listened to his inhales and exhales. His thumb wedged between her upper lip and the underside of her nose. Two massive fingers clamped over her mouth. The other two had a firm grip under her chin, ensuring her lips stayed closed. All while he pumped in and out of her from behind, slow and purposeful.

“Feel so fucking good.” He whispered. His mouth pecked at her back, shoulder, her side, her arm, anywhere it could reach. “Four nights into your ‘I’m on the pill’ surprise.” He panted out his confession. “I’m sure I’m going to come down eventually, Jules. If that gives you some hope. About this blushing bride thing.” A soft growl left his mouth. “I mean, I’m no Superman.” She moaned into his hand when his pace and thrusts picked up. He was still very much in control and not rocking the bed like she knew he could. “But, I am Batman.” His chuckle vibrated into her back.

He shifted, circled, found that spot in her and focused all his energy. More muffled moans erupted from Julie.

“Shhh, sweetheart.” He used more of his palm against her mouth now, pressed harder against the flesh. “Be good for me.”

The subtle restraint was electric, increasing her pleasure tenfold. The sounds of her slick and his rutting inside her only made her more wet.

“I gotta feel you cum.” He begged. His other hand glided over the top of her thigh, rested against the mattress and palmed her pussy. “I’m gonna work you quick, baby. Okay?”

She nodded as much as she could with the hold of his hand.

He parted the folds, found her swollen clit and took no mercy. It was hard, fast. Explosions of light began popping into her brain. Her body jerked with slight tremors. It wouldn’t be long. “Yeah, that’s it. I love it when you come undone. Cum all over my cock.” Dean whispered.

His voice tipped her into the orgasm. She moaned, tightened, while he continued to pump.

“Yeah, right behind you, Julie. Yeah. Fuck.” And, he was, chasing her with his own orgasm. The pulsing of his cock, the spilling of him inside, warm, mingling with her wet he’d produced. His pants and groans against her back. His weight on her body, hand still cupping her mouth. “Man. I give us an A for effort. But, I wasn’t much better than you in the sound department. I might need a damn muzzle.”

Julie smiled into his palm.

“Sorry, baby.” He removed his hand from her mouth. “Should have tapped me. You okay?”

She nodded into the comforter. “Oh, yeah.” Eased onto her back. “Definitely. Can we do more of that?”

He laughed, staring with those beautiful eyes, crinkles extending the gleeful expression on his face. That very Dean way. “Sure.” He shrugged. “Just maybe not tonight?” He kissed her lips, then flashed her an exhausted smile. “I really am pretty beat. Been one helluva long day.”

Julie nodded. “Me too.” She tapped his forearm. “Bathroom again for me and then sleep.”

“Don’t be long.” He collapsed onto his back and closed his eyes.

She smiled, closing the bathroom door. He’d be asleep by the time she slipped back into bed. The sounds of his snores would cover a variety of animals from a grunting pig to a snarling lion. But she wouldn’t tease him in the morning about it. She promised to give him a pass.

Part 2

Series Page

#dean x ofc #spnfanficpond #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #spn fanfics

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON CHERRY BOMB!’S LEAD DANCE, LEAD VOCAL AHN JOWI...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: AJ CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 18 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 13 COMPANY: MSG SECONDARY SKILL: Variety

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): jojo, AJ-oppa, teddy bear, solstice’s girl, CB!’s secret weapon/key INSPIRATION: Her inspiration was and has always been her older sister. She followed her first to ballet lessons, then to vocal lessons. Initially it was just easier for their mother to sign Jowi up to tag along and get both children out from underfoot, but eventually they were even scouted for the same company. She was and remains, also, a vehement CAREmel fan. SPECIAL TALENTS:

excellent at math / quantitative problem solving (puzzles, pattern games, mental computation, memorization)

“dancing robot” that seems to be a data bank for choreography and can perform choruses/point dances from dozens of hits, classic and current.

NOTABLE FACTS:

She had her variety debut on Invincible Youth, where it was discovered her variety talents shine in an ensemble cast when she’s given the chance to play off of others.

She has been central to a lot of fan criticism and rumors regarding her relationships (friendly or not, speculated or actual) to various other artists, from company seniors like Solstice to others.

She’s known for her extensive “network” amongst idols and often surprises by turning up on instagrams from various other idols. 

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

In the short term all AJ really wants is to finally get the chance to release her solo single. MSG has been busy capitalizing off her variety attention and has, for the time being, seemingly put her solo plans on indefinite hold, something that has left her furious and frustrated for far too long. It’s not that she dislikes her variety career (obviously) but she’s getting tired of being more known for things that she hasn’t spent years training and cultivating (i.e. vocals and dance).

LONG-TERM GOALS:

In the long term she would like to follow in the steps of female soloists like Hyori or BoA, with a long running career, consistent and respected output as a soloist, and a well rounded image as performer, dancer, and vocalist alike. Clearly she’s reaching for the stars here, but despite the unlikeliness of making it to such a height as a female soloist starting from an idol group, she’s eager to give it a try. When it comes to her variety career, she’d like to find a single long running show to become her variety home in a fixed cast capacity, toning back her current break-neck schedule and trimming it into something much more manageable, supplementable with guest roles when promoting her music so that she can avoid overextending herself and her image.

IDOL IMAGE

she’s thirteen years old and she’s here on accident. thirteen years old and she’s followed her sister to this audition like she’s followed her everywhere, living in the shadow of her splendor. she’s awkward and gangly - her ears stick out too far and she’s all limbs, even if she’s not that tall.  her dancing is solid enough, her singing sweet, but is she a standout, really? she looks at her sister - shining hair, shining eyes, a light that seems to pour out of her. maybe she’s not. maybe jowi is destined for second best, middle of the road, just okay.

and maybe she’s young. maybe she’s moldable. that’s probably what they see in her that day. the casting director seems to look right into her soul. they see something in her, that they can use.

they see her fire.

she’s full to the brim with it, from poorly suppressed energy to a wild passion that rages like a wildfire beneath her skin. there’s greed there too, desire, and they can use it. they can shape that. and they do. they take this gangly child and craft her into something shining, a gem cut from rough hewn stone. it takes years to polish her, an opal that flares fiery until the end, a brutal gleam to softened edges, a hardness that belies the sheen of delicacy.

when AJ is put out into the market she’s the girl everyone feels like they could be someday. that’s the gimmick. girls want to be her and she’s not so intimidating, so ethereal, that they feel like it’s impossible. there’s a relatability to her. she’s too loud, for starters, and her tongue too sharp. she’s half sweet and half sour, half dorky and half devilish. her looks are unique but not stereotypical, they don’t alienate. she’s the kind of girl you could admire.

she’s a lead dancer and lead vocal and she’s not really the best at anything. there’s a better dancer, a better vocalist, and she can’t personally rap to save her life, but she demands  attention. she’s good enough to carry it off, breezes through part switches relying on humor. she’s got the brain for choreography, reduces it to pattern memorization and becomes the “secret weapon” of the group on stage and off, the key, the pin to hold them together. the others are all mains, the best at something, but they need jowi, too, the glue to stick them together, to propel them from one main’s part to the next, to move through the song and ease the transitions.

it’s not until her first variety guesting solo that anyone really knows the msg plan for her. it becomes clear right away. she’s the sort of sweet and sour and relatable that can get away with a lot, that pushes the boundaries where she can, that sacrifices image for humor, that turns in a quick pivot from hilarious self denigration to wicked and savage comebacks and one liners. she can’t do impressions and she’s not good at chosen talents, but give her a chance to lose herself in an ensemble cast and she can shine. so that’s what she becomes.

the queen of duality, bridging a gap between concepts in her ability to play sexy and fatal on stage and sarcastic and relatable off, a duality that smooths between well polished members and sets them up to shine, propping them up for their big showy notes or solid dance breaks and fading back again.

a jack of all trades, a master of none - at least, for now.

IDOL HISTORY

“for god’s sake somi, just take her with you. someone has to watch her.” 

jowi is thirteen and lanky, long limbed and gangly. she’s not tall, no, but her proportions are odd - like she’s more leg than she is anything else. the bruises that dot her shins speak to a recent growth spurt she hasn’t been able to adjust too just yet. her hair is in two hastily coiled buns, done up at either side of her head, set towards the top, with strands escaping around her face and forehead, wispy and already frizzing in the debilitating summer heat. somi is another story. only two years older than jowi, she’s already stunning. tall and slender, in a graceful way that speaks to the ballet training both of them have been in since they were toddlers in tutus that extended farther than their arm spans, a testament to the preferences of their mother. somi is all long straight hair, shiny and silky, and big doe eyes. she’s beautiful, honestly speaking, in the way that makes people stop and look at her. jowi is proud of this, too young still to care that she herself looks more like a child of the forest than a properly groomed human being. somi is expressive too, her eyes rolling in a spectacular display of disregard for their mother, slim arms crossing artfully over her chest as she heaves a sigh so theatrically woe-laden that jowi almost apologizes for the fact that she’s too young to be left properly on her own - at least according to their mother. she feels old enough to sit around the house alone. perhaps the problem is all three of them know jowi won’t just stay in the house, unable to resist the temptation of the wide world outside, liable to run off into trouble at a moment’s notice. jowi is always like that, stumbling into the unexpected, throwing herself headlong into whatever comes her way, unrelentingly charging forward. maybe that’s why it works out like this. maybe that’s why they tell her to stay in line she’s going to have to audition, so she does. maybe that’s why they bring them both back in, offer them spots training at the company. “you better not slow me down.”  somi says, with a hardness in her voice jowi is used to, by now. so jowi works twice as hard as anyone else even dreams of. of course she likes this, this acknowledgement. years spent in somi’s shadow mean she’s thirsty for recognition, for validity, and she’s on the edge of the precipice that is adolescence, desperate to solidify who she is and who she will become. jowi is driven to a fault, always has been, and she burns with the need to live up to the ghost of her father, the present icon that is her sister. she’s been in a race against this girl since she can remember. she’s been condemned by her mother twice as long, the child born a month after an unfortunate accident. a burden for a newly single mother, trying to juggle a toddler and the aftermath of a funeral. despite born into mourning, jowi is strangely bright eyed, a larger than life personality that beams out of her like sunlight, to the point of overbearing. like the energizer bunny she exists in perpetual movement - until sudden and abrupt crashes drag her down. months of three hours of sleep a night and endless energy erupt in one drunken night gone an hour or two too long leaving her slumped over a friend’s shoulder, carried home to sleep for the next forty hours, only waking to shower, gulp down liters of water. trainee life isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon, and for jowi its nearly unsustainable. for most of them it isn’t, it’s a system built to break you down. but jowi is fierce, jowi is nothing if not determined,  pushing herself to her limits and past them, until she’s taking intravenous fluids in the hospital, suffering dehydration, exhaustion, anemia, you name it. she pushes herself to heights she would never have thought possible, reaches lows she thinks might ruin her. and yet, somehow, she isn’t the one who breaks. instead, its somi. somi, the perfect daughter. somi, perpetually first place, effortlessly lovely, stunningly intelligent, immensely skilled. but somi hasn’t faced adversity. somi doesn’t know criticism like jowi does, hasn’t thrived under duress and neglect. somi can’t take it - it’s too harsh, too cruel, too exhausting. for jowi, it’s something like second nature. you might think to yourself now, “surely this only exacerbated the rift in the ahn family?” and you would be right. beyond that even. the rift became a gulf, a trench - mariana’s even, the deepest chasm of the ocean. at seventeen jowi was all but alone, excluding the trainees she was working and living (at that point) alongside. of course her mother outwardly supported her, to keep up experiences, but the understanding was that any sustained contact would not pass the bare minimum societally required of her, and would mostly consist of a few thousand won here and there and phone calls that heavily suggested she was simply waiting for jowi to get kicked out and come back home with her tail between her legs. only that’s not quite how that worked out. instead, she was put into vocal lessons, and then more and more personal training, and then finally told she’d been chosen for the potential lineup for the upcoming girl group. that her monthly evaluations will be weekly now, that she needs to keep on top of her diet, that this could mean big things for her.

they put her in music videos next, dress her up and stand her in the middle of luridly bright sets, have her smile soft and serene and sweet as boys she’s mostly seen on screen up until now, or on twitter or naver. it felt unreal at first. but as hours of forced smiles and constant cameras and continuous takes slogged by, she found herself buried under the reality of what it was to be an idol, to lipsync through a chorus forty five times to get it from each angle, to perform the same song, the same segment of the same song, fifty different times in five different outfits all for ten seconds of a jump cut you pray doesn’t expose how sweaty and exhausted you were in the moment. in those moments she discovers what will be required of her, and it’s a little frightening. but then the first articles drop, just little ones on pann, who’s that girl in the video, and later, did you see her again? and eventually look, it’s solstice’s girl, her name is jowi, she’s a trainee. and then she has fans  - not many, but a few, and the numbers grow, and she gets a letter from the desk downstairs from a fan telling her to be strong, that they’re waiting for her debut, and she cries. happy tears, but bittersweet, because how can strangers see what her own mother can’t, or won’t?

and then she is chosen, and she’s debuting, and she’s so fucking excited she’s overflowing with it. she’s lived in somi’s shadow for so long that to be debuting now and in a central position in the group no less, has her head spinning. surely now, now her mother will care about her. now her sister will acknowledge her. they’ll smile at her, they’ll tell her they’re proud. she’s sure of it, so sure she’s full to bursting. it’s only silence though, that she gets. they don’t even bother to decline the invitation to the showcase for her debut. the other girls are finding their families in the audience, tears spilling down pretty cheeks, and jowi is crying too. how cute, their slow growing number of fans say, little jowi is so touched to have debuted. and she is, god, is she ever. it was an accident of fate that brought her here but she finds herself born for it, made for it, thriving on it. this goal of so many years, finally in front of her. the rush and the thrill and the ache of it, heart pounding like it might explode out of her chest. but they aren’t there. for years, they aren’t there, and jowi learns to find the validation she craves so desperately in other ways. but that’s hard too. if trainee years were a marathon, debut is climbing mount everest. msg is an established company, sure, but they’re not at the top of the heap just yet. they don’t have the cache to rely on that. they’re clawing up to the top come hell or high water, and jowi’s jack of all trades status is useful, but it’s not the kind of thing that lands you cf deals or acting parts, gets you hosting. that goes to visuals and the like, and jowi’s always been a little too atypical for that, more unique and charming than broadly adored and acknowledged. 

maybe she can pretend, at first, it isn’t terrible. things are in the works. a guest spot here, a commercial there, an influx of articles on every little movement she makes. the comments are nice too - the media play isn’t oversaturated yet. t the attention is there, and the intrigue. they’re being noticed. she’s being noticed. her mother even calls her, one night, and jowi thinks maybe it can be okay. 

of course, when she lets herself stop, think, listen in the dead of the night she’s sick to her stomach. the anxiety heightens day by day, and she’s ferocious in her efforts to combat it. she trains herself into the ground and her dietary habits consist more of liquor to put her to bed and handfuls of hastily swallowed nutrient supplements than anything else, and her hours in the gym become absurd. but if they’re going to media play about her abs, she better have them, and if they’re going to talk about her figure in crop tops, she better suit them. she’s always been obsessive, when it comes to coping with her own emotions, when it come sto avoiding her life. 

it’s her personality that finally takes off. she’s been groomed to facilitate transitions in their songs, to work the bridge or the chorus and help the song get to the point the main vocal will take over and soar, or push the transition to the rap verse, or slide through the moves that will precede the main dancer’s showcase. she’s glue to the girls, fitting the distracting and diverse songs together into something that makes at least a little bit of sense, with a charisma and performance capability trained into being diverse and multifaceted, to help carry off each vastly different concept in a way that seems convincing to the audience. if she can take that first chorus or hit that opening strong, the skepticism starts to fade and “what the fuck concept is this” drifts more towards “what a weird and fun concept, as expected of cherry bomb!” she’s there to sell the image of the group, so maybe that’s why she works so well in an ensemble atmosphere. ironic, for a girl trying to go solo.

she lands a spot on invincible youth and plays off the other girls well, develops a reputation as a social butterfly, as half sour and half sweet, a startlingly savage sweetheart with a competitive fire that surprises, given her soft demeanor and boyish offstage mannerisms. from there come the cf deals, and slowly the attention builds up in bits and pieces. she gets into the normal scandals - too close to this idol, too friendly with that one, a rude face here, rumors of deviant behavior behind the scenes. the irony of a rough and tumble variety image is that it acts as a shield -  she’s so goddamn normal seeming that no one can fault her for it too much, like they might were she one of the stunningly ethereal beautiful goddess types. they don’t have high expectations for her, maybe, so they don’t hold her to a wildly high standard either. it gives her room to work with.

but it doesn’t give her a solo, doesn’t help her stand on her own two feet, doesn’t let her shine in the way she wants - the way she feels she deserves. instead she remains cherry bomb’s secret weapon, cherry bomb’s key, the glue to hold them together, but she’s tired of being the border pieces of the puzzle, tired of being the wiring that turns the lights on to let them shy.

she wants that spotlight, and she’ll get it one way or another, whatever it takes. all she wants,  all she’s ever wanted, is to be seen.

#id.bio #id.msg #id.wild&free #id.kang seulgi #id.cherry bomb!

[myrambles1611]

Two sides of the same coin: our different personalities online and in real life

If you are reading this, chances are that you have a blog on this hellsite or at least know the basics of Tumblr. If you don’t, allow me to tell you the basics: firstly, if your post is more than five lines, you always, ALWAYS, apologize; so I apologize for the long post in advance. Secondly, and more importantly, none of us are really ourselves online. Of course there are some of the bigger, more popular blogs that display their complete identities online, but most of us choose to hide our true selves behind fan, aesthetic, meme, and even porn blogs. If you, like me, have been on this site for a while, you have figured out how to enjoy Tumblr’s “relatable” self-deprecating humor, beautiful fan art, and socio-political debate while maintaining your “online” persona. There may be some intersections between your online persona and your true self but most of your online profile is an ideal version of yourself that is far more confident and witty than your offline persona could ever be. We have these profiles because isn’t it so liberating and satisfying to have so many people appreciate the meme you just made? It offers us an escape from our boring, everyday lives so we can live our ideal personality instead of simply chasing it. But if you end up doing this for long enough, I am sure you will realize that soon enough you develop two completely different personalities: one online and one offline. Your online personality is well crafted and maintained, very different from your offline personality. One of the students Donna Freitas interviewed for her article “Instagrim” thinks of “herself, her name, as a brand. She has a reputation and she needs to protect it. She’s a curator,” (Freitas, Donna.) This creates a distinct divide between your online and offline personalities, which begs the obvious question: who are you truly? Now this can turn into an unnecessarily convoluted philosophical analysis of one’s “true” self and I’d rather stay away from that because we all have enough existential crises. So I’ll stick to an analysis of why this dual personality phenomenon is emotionally and psychologically detrimental for users of social media, especially young teenagers who are still maturing emotionally and socially.

It is necessarily to acknowledge the fact that changing personalities online is not just a result of wanting to be someone else online, but also protecting yourself from possible scams. Most of our parents or adults in a similar position have warned us repeatedly about “stranger-danger,” which is just as pertinent online. Romance scams are highly common - “In the U.S., romance scams account for the highest financial losses of all internet-facilitated crimes, the FBI reports. The bureau’s Internet Crime Complaint Center said it received 15,000 romance scam complaints last year ― a 20 percent increase over the previous year,” (Brenoff, Ann.) These scams, as Brenoff outlines in her article “How A Billion-Dollar Internet Scam Is Breaking Hearts And Bank Accounts,” target lonely women who have recently experienced a tragedy and thus readily open up to men who are willing to be their figurative shoulders to cry on. So why would we even bother revealing our true personalities online if we can be exploited because of it? Protecting ourselves is just another reason for the different personalities but it is overshadowed by the need to be a different person online and create a persona for yourself.

Even though I mentioned only two personalities (online and offline), the issue is actually more complicated as we tend to take on multiple personalities based on the social media outlet we are using. “As the number of platforms increase, it’s amazing to watch the way that we are adapting to multiple networks—and our ability to communicate and connect with different audiences through different voices online,” (Casserly, Meghan.) Casserly makes a great point about not only adapting different online voices, but also communicating with different audiences. Each social media outlet has its own audience and purpose, thus we end up creating drastically different profiles that are tailored perfectly to the outlet. According to Ashley Brown, a PR consultant with Jones-Dilworth who was interviews by Casserly, states that “of all her social media accounts, Twitter offers the most well-rounded view of herself.” Perhaps you, like Ashley, prefer Twitter with its 280 character limit, or maybe you like Instagram’s creative, artistic layout possibilities, but we all have that one outlet that we are more attracted to. Richard Laermer “calls this soul-splitting a gift from the Net gods. “I’m not one-dimensional,” he says, (Casserly, Meghan.) I’m sure most of you would agree with Laermer because isn’t it great to be able to casually switch between being a crazy fanatic fangirl on your anime fanblog to being a politically correct intellectual in just the click of a button?

Before we delve deeper into how these different personalities actually affect us, it is essential to analyze how exactly do our “real” personalities differ from our online ones or rather do these personalities actually differ? Tomas Chamorro-Premuzic, in his article “How different are your online and offline personalities?” states that “although our digital identity is fragmented, research suggests that our various online personas lead back to the same personality,” (Chamorro-Premuzic, Tomas.) He suggests that “it is harder to fake it online when you are being observed for a longer period of time. Conversely, deliberate deception and impression management are relatively straightforward during short-term interactions, such as job interviews, first dates and dinner parties. We all have a window for displaying the bright side of our personality and adhering to social etiquette, but what happens when a great portion of our lives is being broadcasted?” (Chamorro-Premuzic, Tomas.) Even though Premuzic is correct in stating that “deliberate deception” is easy during short-term interactions, it is even easier to be deceptive online. Premuzic fails to understand that it is infinitely easier to create a profile of yourself online where people simply don’t know who the ‘real you’ is, and I don’t mean this in terms of “cat-fishing” where an old man is actually posing as a young woman. Slight changes to your personality traits, especially exhibiting the ones that you desire, such as confidence, are very easy when you control what you post online. Take a look at any of your acquaintances’ Instagram and you will know what I am talking about. That guy from your Business class who only posts shirtless selfies at the gym might actually be dealing with self-esteem issues. That girl in your Biology class who has a million Instagram followers because of her trendy outfits might be dealing with severe anxiety. But we will never know because we only get a snippet, a heavily edited and carefully crafted snippet, of their real self. The key here is that we get to create and manage our online personas the way we want to unlike in real life where body language, expressions, tone, etc. quickly give away our true feelings, which is harder to do online. Thus, our online profiles and personalities are scripted, just like reality TV shows, so even though “various online profiles do eventually lead back to the same personality,” is this “soul-splitting” really healthy?

Going back to Freitas’ “Instagrim” article, it is clear that your online version “isn’t a true reflection of yourself. People have pressure now, more than ever, to project an image that everything’s peachy and wonderful in their life," (Freitas, Donna.) This pressure is mainly caused by the fear of being criticized for our true selves by our online audience. With Photoshop and similar editing tools, it is easy to create the image of a perfect life but what happens when we forget to edit out our love handles and accidently let the mask of perfection slip? The answer is cyberbullying, which numerous teenagers face with the increased use of social media. In their article “What parents should know about the 'constant pressure' of social media for teens,” Suzanne Yeo and Catherine Thorbecke interviewed “Dr. Logan Levkoff, an expert in parent-child communications,” who mentioned that “social media plays a "huge role" in causing anxiety for teens.” Yeo and Thorbecke interview five teenage girls about their experience with social media and cyberbullying who mentioned that “there’s just constant pressure” and feel “criticized for almost everything on social media.” They also mentioned that this criticism is especially taxing when directed to the way they look, which translates into body image issues and also eating disorders. Cyberbullying hurts in a different way than other types of bullying because the comments on the internet never truly disappear, thus always reinforcing the criticism. This fear of being criticized and pressure to always seem perfect can also translate into real life, as was the case with “Penn Face” where students of the esteemed University of Pennsylvania face the pressures of keeping up perfect appearances regardless of their serious internal problems, which has led to many suicides (Dent, Mark.) Thus difference in online and offline personalities, although seemingly harmless on the outside, gives way to a much darker and serious issue of cyberbullying, which must be addressed in order to protect the youth and help them develop and mature without the fear of being harshly criticized.

I suppose this is a good time to self-reflect and take a look at how different your personalities are. If you are a teenager like me, then I am sure you will understand these pressures of perfection but I hope that you will also understand that perfection is subjective. Although very cliche, it is important to realize that everyone is perfect in their own ways and you don’t have to pretend to be someone you are not in order to achieve this vague ideal of perfection. So if you enjoy being a crazy fan girl on your side fan blog but also want to be ‘meme-king’ on your main blog, then go ahead, but, as Kevin G. (Mean Girls) says, “Don’t let the haters stop you from doing your thang.”

Works Cited

Brenoff, Ann. "How A Billion-Dollar Internet Scam Is Breaking Hearts And Bank Accounts." HuffPost, 27 July 2017, www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/romance-scams-online-fbi-facebook_us_59414c67e4b0d318548666f9.

Casserly, Meghan. "Multiple Personalities And Social Media: The Many Faces of Me." Forbes, 2 May 2012, www.forbes.com/sites/meghancasserly/2011/01/26/multiple-personalities-and-social-media-the-many-faces-of-me/#3d63a2cf6d51.

Chamorro-Premuzic, Tomas. "How Different Are Your Online and Offline Personalities?" The Guardian, 14 Feb. 2018, www.theguardian.com/media-network/2015/sep/24/online-offline-personality-digital-identity.

Dent, Mark. "'Penn Face? and the 'social? Ivy's Suicide Problem, and How Students Are Fighting Back." Billy Penn, 11 Dec. 2015, billypenn.com/2015/12/11/penn-face-and-the-social-ivys-suicide-problem-and-how-students-are-fighting-back/.

Freitas, Donna. "Instagrim: Why Social Media Makes Students Miserable." The Chronicle of Higher Education, 7 May 2017, www.chronicle.com/article/Instagrim-Why-Social-Media/239983.

Yeo, Suzanne, and Catherine Thorbecke. "Teens Lament 'constant Pressure' of Social Media." ABC News, 2 Nov. 2017, abcnews.go.com/Health/parents-constant-pressure-social-media-teens/story?id=50822684.