#now I am just angry but some years ago this would have straight out make me skip lunch

[delizbin]

To the random man that today had the audacity to tell a girl (me) “you’re going to fatten up” while I was watching a bakery showcase GO FUCK YOURSELF FOR GOD’S SAKE I HOPE YOU CHOKE WITH DINNER TONIGHT

#and I did ate cake after FUCK YOU #I HATE THESE KIND OF PEOPLE WHO THE EVEN FUCK ARE YOU #as if there was something wrong with it what the fuck #now I am just angry but some years ago this would have straight out make me skip lunch #fuck people like this for real #fuck fatfobes misogynistic people #they all have to burn #personal #tw #I don’t know maybe some people get triggered so I put the warning #don’t get these people to fuck with your head go eat your goddamn food and fuck them #they must have a miserable life already don’t worry #people really do not understand the damage something like this can cause WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AGAIN

[drudyslut]

— warnings: smut!! 18+ mean!rafe, degrading, edging, orgasm denial, fingering, face fucking, some slapping, hair pulling, unprotected sex (literally don’t do that), slight breeding kink, rafe is called daddy once, aaand lmk if i missed any!!

— note: helllloooo, i hope y’all enjoy this. i wrote this while watching obx and rafe being the unhinged king that he is!! 😮‍💨 it really helped set the anger in him. reblogs and feedback are VERY appreciated! love you all, mwah!

❥ i don't care who sees, princess- r.c

Getting involved with Rafe Cameron had to be at the top of your list of things you never imagined you’d do.

You’d been secretly been seeing the oldest Cameron child for a couple of months. It all started at a kegger, Rafe had seen you standing across the beach with your friends and was instantly drawn to you.

That’s where it all had started, and that’s also what had started the instant obsession Rafe had toward you, resulting in him losing his shit when he saw you talking to one of your best friends, John B.

“I just don’t fucking understand why you’re talking to him, am I not enough for you?” Rafe shouts, blocking your way out of his bedroom.

“Rafe! He’s been my best friend for years now! I don’t see the fucking problem, it’s not like we’re dating!”

Rafe chuckles darkly, taking a step toward you and wrapping his hand around your throat, an action that would normally be a turn on for you, but now, now it was just scary.

You give Rafe a look of warning, your hands clawing at his arm, trying to push him off of you.

“Rafe, let me go!” You shout, squirming underneath his grip.

Rafe releases his grip on your throat, stepping out of your way and letting you walk out of his room. You glance back, noting the look of anger on his face before you turned and sprinted down the spiral staircase and out of his front door.

That was a week ago, and ever since that day Rafe has been blowing your phone up, phone calls and text messages every single day for a week. You’d been letting all of the calls go to voicemail, reading and ignoring every text— texts that ranged from half hearted apologies to straight up anger.

You were currently laid in your bed, scrolling through Netflix, trying to find something to watch when the sound of a loud banging from your front door caught your attention.

Bang bang bang

You knit your brows in confusion, wondering who was beating on your door this early in the morning. You decide to ignore it, whoever it was would go away eventually.

But they didn’t. More pounding on your front door followed by the sound of Rafe’s angered voice booms through your house.

Bang bang bang

“Y/N, open this fucking door, I swear I’ll kick it down, don’t test me right now”

You quickly jump from your bed, grabbing your hoodie from the back of your desk chair and tossing it on before making your way down the small hallway and into your living room.

You inch toward the front door slowly, wondering what the fuck Rafe was doing at your house. The sound of his fists hitting on the door again make you jump.

You quickly unlock the door, swinging it open to find Rafe’s angry demeanor standing before you.

“Rafe what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Why have you been ignoring me?” He responds quickly, taking a step toward you resulting in you taking a step backward.

You peak your head past him, making sure none of your neighbors were awake before grabbing his arm and pulling him past the threshold and into your living room.

You quickly shut the door and lock it, turning on your heels to face Rafe. “Rafe, you can’t be here. People will see your truck and start talking”

He chuckles, taking a step toward you and wrapping his hand around your throat, pushing your back flush into the front door.

“I don’t care who sees, princess. Why have you been ignoring me?”

You bite at your bottom lip, the grip he had on your throat making your pussy ache for him. You look up at him with lust filled eyes, batting your lashes at him as you struggled to speak.

“I-I just needed t-time to th-think”

The corners of Rafe’s lips upturn into a smirk, his eyes turning dark as he watched the way his touch made you flustered.

“Is anyone home?”

“N-no. Why?” You ask, the ache between your legs growing, squeezing your thighs together to try and relieve the ache.

Rafe releases the grip on your throat, leaning his head down to your ear, his breath fanning over your skin as he whispered in your ear sending a shudder through your body. “Because i’m about to show you why it’s not a good idea to ignore me”

You open your mouth to speak but quickly shut it when Rafe harshly presses his lips against yours. He wraps his hands around your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly, his hands making purchase on your ass. You wrap your legs around his torso, hands flying to the back of his neck as your lips move fervently together. Rafe begins walking down the small hallway toward your bedroom, removing one hand from your ass to open the door and step inside. He kicks it shut behind him, walking toward your bed and tossing you down onto the mattress.

“Don’t ever. Ignore me again, alright?”

You nod your head slowly, watching as he pulls his white t-shirt over his head and tossing it onto your bedroom floor. You begin to salivate at the sight of his tanned, muscular body on display for you, always loving the sight of him.

Rafe climbs on top of you, his hands firmly planted on both sides of your body. “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk. Gonna fuck you until you can’t even think straight, you’re gonna be so fucking drunk on my cock when I’m done with you, you’ll never ignore me again”

He presses his lips harshly against yours once more, slipping his tongue into your mouth as he runs a hand up your side, pushing your hoodie up and revealing your bare stomach.

He runs his hand up more, cupping one of your breasts tightly, fingers toying with your hardened nipple. You moan into his mouth as he pinches and tugs at your sensitive bud. Rafe smiles against your lips, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth and sucking at it softly.

“R-Rafe, please” You whimper, your hands running up the sides of his arms, fingernails digging into the flesh leaving half crescent marks on the skin.

He chuckles, lifting himself up on his hands and staring down at you. “Please what, baby? Use your words”

“Need to feel you, please. Need more”

Rafe grins, setting himself on his knees and tugging the fabric of your hoodie up and over your head. He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of your bare chest.

His hands fly to your tits, cupping them both in his large hands as he begins leaving sloppy, wet kisses all over your jaw and neck.

He moves his head down, pulling one of you nipples into his mouth and sucking, quickly switching to the other one and repeating his actions. He lets your nipple slip from his mouth with a pop, placing soft kisses on both of your breasts.

“Such pretty tits, and they’re all mine”

You squeeze your thighs together, the ache between your legs becoming more and more unbearable. You lift yourself up on your elbows, shifting onto your knees, hands flying to grasp Rafe’s hard cock through the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Needy, aren’t we princess?”

You nod your head, tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants. Rafe tsks, removing your hands from his waistband and pinning them onto the mattress.

“You’ve been such a brat this past week, ignoring me, treating me like i’m not good enough for you, so you’re not going to make a move, unless I say you can. Got it?”

You sigh. “Got it”

Rafe let’s out a deep breath, shaking his head. “Got it? No no sweetheart, you know what you’re supposed to say to me. Say it”

“Y-Yes, daddy. I-I won’t make a move, unless you say so”

“That’s my good girl”

Rafe hooks his fingers into the waistband of your lace panties, sliding them down your legs. You shudder as the tips of his fingers run down your legs slowly.

You gasp when he runs his thick fingers through your slick folds, gathering your arousal on his fingers. He slips his index finger inside your soaked cunt, pushing it in and out slowly, his thumb pressing firmly against your clit, rubbing slow and gentle circles around it.

“Such a pretty pussy, love how wet she gets, just for me”

You let out a whimper, bucking your hips forward.

“Rafe, please. Faster”

Rafe grins, slipping another finger inside you. He picks up the pace of his fingers, harshly thrusting them in and out of you, loud moans falling from your lips when he curves them slightly, hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

You grind your hips against his hand, tears flowing down your face as his thumb continued rubbing sloppy circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves, his fingers continuing to work your soaked cunt.

You feel the coil tightening in your belly, your inner walls clenching uncontrollably around his fingers as your orgasm threatening to burst out of you.

“R-Rafe, s’close, oh my God, s’fucking close” you mewl, throwing your head back into your pillows, eyes squeezed shut as you harshly gripped at your bed sheets.

Rafe quickly pulls his fingers from you, making you groan from the empty feeling, pissed off that he had stopped right as you were about to cum.

“Rafe what the fuck?!” You shout, propping yourself up on your elbows and staring at him, a smug grin plastered on his lips.

“Brats like you don’t get to cum, not that easily at least”

You open your mouth to speak, but Rafe’s fingers being shoved down your throat cut you off. You gag around his fingers, tears brimming at your eyes again as he shoves them further down your throat.

“Taste yourself baby, so fucking sweet. Maybe if you listen, I’ll let you cum when I fuck you”

You inhale through your nose, submitting to him and sucking lightly on his fingers. You swirl your tongue around his thick digits, lapping up every drop of your arousal from his fingers.

You watch in awe as Rafe throws his head back, enjoying the feel of your mouth wrapped around his fingers. “Such a good fucking girl, fuck. I love how fucking easy it is to make you submit”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth, hands quickly pushing his sweatpants down his legs, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

Your hands fly to grasp his hard cock through the flimsy fabric, stroking his length softly, a low, throaty groan falling from his lips.

“Fuck, what did I say? No fucking touching. You don’t— shit — you don’t make a fucking move unless I say so. Now. I have to punish you, baby”

Rafe wraps his hand around your throat, pulling you up and sitting you on your knees. He places a sloppy kiss to your lips, his free hand shoving his boxers down his legs and tossing them onto your floor. He tightens the grip on your throat, spitting into his free hand and stroking his cock.

“Suck”

You look up at him, hesitantly leaning forward and wrapping your lips around him. He releases the grip on your throat, wrapping his fingers in your hair and shoving himself fully into your mouth, the swollen head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag around him.

You hollow your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down his length at a quick pace. Drool runs down the sides of your mouth, his fingers digging into your scalp as tears blurred your vision.

Rafe grips at your hair tighter, pulling you off of him harshly, getting off of your bed, standing at the side and turning your body. He positions himself with your mouth again, thrusting into your mouth again. You place both hands on his thighs, steadying yourself as he pounds himself into your throat.

You’re a drooling, gagging mess. Rafe’s brutal thrusts pick up in speed, making you gag uncontrollably around him. You feel his thrusts grow sloppy, his hips stuttering as he chases his high.

You feel his dick twitch in your mouth, a string of curse words falling from his lips as hot, white ropes of his cum fill your mouth. He holds your face against his pelvis, filling your mouth with his seed before pulling you off of him.

You swallow his load, licking your lips and wiping the drool from your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Fuck. I always love abusing that pretty little throat of yours, baby”

You smile, swiping your tongue across your bottom lip as you try and steady your breathing.

Rafe climbs back onto the bed, pushing you back onto the mattress and pressing his lips to yours. He groans when he slips his tongue in your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue.

He grasps his cock between his hands, sliding it between your slick folds, wetting the head of his cock before he harshly thrusts himself inside you.

You gasp when you feel the head of his cock hit your sweet spot. “Fuuuuck, Rafe, feels so good”

Rafe pulls himself out of you slowly before he sinks himself back in. He begins pounding his hips into yours, his hands tightly gripping at your thighs as he pushes himself in and out of your soaked pussy at a brutal pace.

“So fucking wet, so tight. Tell me that you only get this fucking wet for me!”

“O-Only f- shit! Only for y-you, Rafe!”

Rafe smirks, jutting his tongue out of his mouth as he focuses on his thrusts. The squelching sound of your pussy fills the room, Rafe’s balls smacking at your ass with every push and pull of his hips pushing your closer to your release.

“R-Rafe! S’fucking close! Fuck fuck fuck, p-please!”

Rafe snakes his hand between your legs, pressing his fingers firmly against your clit, rubbing sloppy circles around it.

“Don’t you dare cum, not until I say you can”

A loud moan falls from your lips, biting down harshly on your bottom lip as you try and stave off your orgasm, not wanting to upset Rafe anymore than you already had.

“You’ve been such a fucking brat lately, thinking you can just fucking ignore me for a week, then thinking you’re just gonna get to cum whenever you want? Stupid little whores like you, don’t get their way”

Rafe cups one of your tits with his free hand, toying with your nipple as he continues his sloppy circles on your clit. He smacks your tit harshly, pulling a whine from your lips from the sting you felt.

“Rafe! P-please!”

Rafe chuckles, a dark look in his eyes as he continues pushing himself roughly inside you. You feel your walls clenching around him, squeezing around his cock like a vice. You were unsure how much longer you could hold off your orgasm, the coil in your belly burning brightly.

“Shut up. Don’t cum” Rafe shouts, landing a harsh smack to your cheek.

You feel his thrusts growing sloppier as he chases his own high, his cock repeatedly hitting at your g-spot. Tears blur your vision as you hold your cheek, trying to soothe the sting from his slap.

“Gonna fill this pussy up, gonna breed you so no other guy on this island wants to fucking touch you” Rafe grunts out, pushing himself into a few more times before he stills inside you.

You feel the warmth of his cum filling you, Rafe slowly and sensually thrusting inside you a few more times before he pulls himself from you.

You whine as Rafe pulls himself off of you, standing from your bed and pulling his boxers up his legs.

“Really, Rafe? I didn’t even get to finish once! What the fuck?”

He takes one long stride toward you, using his fingers to gather his cum, pushing it back inside you. “I told you. Brats like you don’t get to cum. But don’t worry baby, you’re coming home with me, maybe I’ll let you cum sometime today”

rafe masterlist | taglist form

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe smut #rafe cameron brainrot #rafe fic #rafe fanfiction #rafe obx #obx smut #obx x reader #obx fic #obx rafe cameron

[moonlightspencie]

Wrong Time

Description: Dean doesn’t know how to act right. Sam doesn’t get the animosity. Reader is just trying to live life. Otherwise known as Mutual Pining: the Fanfic.

Pairing: jealous!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader, platonic!Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: jealous dean :), minor angst, spells and other supernatural things, plenty of fluff

Word Count: 6.6k

A/N: originally posted on tumblr like 3 years ago (rip in peace to the like 3k notes it had). then posted to ao3. now it’s back on tumblr.

I walked into the bunker after Sam and Dean, throwing my bag down as soon as my feet hit the floor. I shuffled into the library, noticing Castiel at a table on a laptop.

“How was the hunt?” He looked up at me.

“It was crap,” Dean answered gruffly. I took a chance look at him, and he shot me a glare that could kill. “I’m taking a shower.”

Sam watched his brother stalk past. “I— it was… Fine. I mean, something almost went wrong, but we all ended up okay.”

Cas nodded slowly. Then he noticed my expression. “Are you okay, (Y/N)? You look unwell.”

“It was my fault.”

“(Y/N)—” Sam started.

“No, Sam, I mean— I was stupid. I almost got myself killed. I would have been if Dean didn’t find me first.”

“Still wasn’t your fault, we all make mistakes.”

“What do you mean you almost got killed?” Cas interjected.

I huffed a sigh, sitting next to him. Sam took a seat across from me.

“Well, we walked into the vamp nest, and started going to town. It seemed like it’d be pretty easy to take care of, but then I heard a boy crying. I went to go look for him, and— and I saw him. He was in another room, probably about 15, 16 years old. I didn’t think anything of it and went to go help him, but he… I was wrong. He was turned, just trying to get his prey to come to him, apparently.”

Cas furrowed his brow. “What happened? Are you alright?”

I absentmindedly scratched at the table.

“I am now, I guess. I set down my machete like a fricken idiot, letting my guard down, and he jumped me. I tried grabbing it to fight him off, but he kicked it out of my grip. I thought it was the end of the line until Dean came barging in and got him off me. I was so stupid, he’s pissed.”

Sam reached across, brushing his thumb over the knuckles of my now-closed fist. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We got out okay. It was just a mistake.”

“And Dean—,” Cas began, “He is… It will be alright.”

He gave a kind smile as he said this. I tried one back at him before standing up and giving a quick goodnight. As I walked to my room, I hovered by Dean’s door before thinking better of it. I hated when he was angry with me, but figured I better not upset him more by barging in on his alone time. I hated when any of the boys acted coldly towards me, but Dean’s always cut the deepest for some reason. I wouldn’t let myself think on why that is for more than a few seconds, though. I walked to my room, changing into an oversized t-shirt and flopping onto my bed, essentially passing out.

I woke up in a cold sweat, tears wetting my face. I sat straight up, trying to catch my breath. My fingers gripped the sheets as I tried to keep my cool, but to no avail. I got out of bed, walking out of my room, and heading a few doors down. I knocked quietly before entering.

“Hello?” I spoke, voice wavering. I walked towards the sleeping figure, gently nudging his shoulder. “Sam?”

He rolled over, slowly opening his eyes. “(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

I wrung my hands.

“I— I had a nightmare. I can’t be alone right now,” I said, trying to hold back tears.

“Oh. Oh, okay, yeah, come here,” He replied, sitting up and scooting over. I sat next to him, pulling the covers over my legs as he threw an arm around me. “You alright?”

“I don’t know.” I leaned into him. “It was about the hunt. Except, it wasn’t me. I mean, I still went and found the boy, but, um, when Dean came in this time he— the kid knew somehow, and attacked. I tried helping, but I couldn’t move, and then… Then they, they got him. And it was my fault. He died.”

I noticed a few tears had escaped my eyes, and I rubbed at them quickly.

Sam hugged me into his side. “I’m sorry. That’s really tough.”

I nodded.

He continued, “But, you know, it was just a dream. We all got out, we’re all okay.”

“I know, but what if we didn’t? It would’ve been on me, it would be my fault.”

“There is always a “what if” when we do the things we do, and focusing on that is only going to cause you pain. Don’t do that to yourself,” Sam sighed, laying down and taking me with him. “Dean just needs to let this go, don’t let his attitude make you feel stupid.”

I nodded again. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Anytime, kiddo. Now, let’s go to sleep. C’mere.”

He pulled me into his chest, letting the hand that wasn’t around my shoulder rest near my rib cage. I closed my eyes, and the next thing I knew I was waking to Sam’s snoring in my ear. We’d separated during the night, but my head was still against his arm, our legs still caught up together. This put me in a predicament as I tried to move away from him without waking him. I somehow managed to wiggle out of bed, and land on my feet; thankfully Sam was a surprisingly deep sleeper. I tiptoed to the door, slowly and carefully opening it and backing out. I shut it as quietly as I could, and turned around to see Dean walking towards me, looking down at his phone, only a few feet off.

“Morning,” I greeted him.

His steps faltered slightly as he looked up. “Morning.”

His expression changed from tiredness to confusion in an instant. He furrowed his brow, looking at me, then to the door I had just stepped out from.

“I’m making pancakes. If you want some, they’ll be ready in twenty.”

I smiled, nodding a thank you before he squeezed past me towards the kitchen.

‘He’s not mad at me!’ I thought to myself.

I went into the bathroom, taking a quick shower. I wrapped a towel around myself, and headed towards my room to get dressed. We had a day in, so I decided on a fresh pair of pajama shorts and another t-shirt. The smell of pancakes drifted through the bunker, and as soon as I stepped out of my door that smell carried me all the way to the kitchen. I stopped in the entrance, watching Dean for a moment. He stood at the stovetop, watching and flipping the pancakes as necessary. I watched the way his arms and shoulders moved until his simple gray tee, and how delicately his hands held the spatula. Then he turned and noticed me.

“Hey,” he said, taking the plate-full to the counter.

He was getting a little scruffy, having not yet shaved since a couple mornings ago. He looked tired, but peaceful. He looked handsome. I chewed my bottom lip, finally stepping into the small room.

“Hey. That smells amazing.”

I walked near him as he grabbed two plates, throwing a few pancakes on each. He handed me one, and we both went to work preparing them with with butter and syrup. I was about to take mine to the table, when his hand shot in front of mine.

“I’ll take these if you want to grab the coffee pot.”

He looked down at me, the sides of his lips just barely tilting up into a smile, and I felt a familiar flutter in my heart.

“Yeah, of course,” I said, then turned quickly to grab the coffee and two mugs, trying to push down that feeling as far as it could go.

I shuffled closer to him as he sat at one side of the table. I placed the mugs in front of the plates, filling each of them and setting the pot at the end of the table. I sat across from Dean, digging in immediately.

“Okay, wow.” I shoved another forkful in my mouth. “These… These are genuinely amazing. You shook cook more often.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I got a few tricks up my sleeve. What about you, though? Anytime you bake anything I lose my mind.”

“Guess I just have that effect on people,” I shrugged laughing.

“Yeah, you’re not kidding.” He smirked and glanced up, locking eyes with me for a moment that felt like forever. I looked away first.

“Um— about… About yesterday, Dean, I—”

He cut me off, throwing a hand up. “Just— Let’s just drop it. Okay?”

I nodded, looking down. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

He took in a deep breath before things went silent for a while. We both were nearly finished when Sam came in the room, as much a morning person as ever.

“Morning, guys!” He smiled.

I couldn’t help but let out half a laugh at his cheerfulness. “You are way too excited in the mornings.”

He smiled my way.

Dean got up abruptly. “I’m gonna go work on Baby.”

As soon as he was out of the room, Sam raised an eyebrow at me. “He always goes out there when he’s upset. Did something happen? You two looked fine when I came in.”

I shook my head. “I tried talking to him about yesterday. Guess that was a mistake.”

Sam’s lips tightened. “Yikes, I’m sorry.”

I shrugged. “It’s fine. At least he let me eat his pancakes.” I smiled.

Sam laughed, “Yeah, guess that’s a start.”

We went about our day as usual; Sam worked out and looked up cases, Cas helped with case searches, Dean spent most of his day in the garage, and I decided on a movie marathon. Before long, it was later than I realized and I heard a knock on the door.

“Come in!”

Sam poked his head around the door. “What’s up? You’ve been in your room all day.”

“Oh, no worries. Just a movie marathon. Harry Potter, wanna join?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and fell belly-down on the bed next to me. We watched about half of the 6th movie before we stopped watching altogether. We talked and laughed all night long until we were passed out together. This time, I woke up again to Sam’s gentle snoring, but we were much closer. His right arm was once again under my head, but his left was wrapped tightly around me, and his chest pressed into my back. Admittedly, it was a bit strange, but on a cold morning, not unwelcome. I gently rubbed his forearm, trying to wake him.

“Sammy, get up. You’re trapping me here, pal.”

He groaned sleepily, hugging me just a little tighter before he opened his eyes and realized what he was doing. “Oh crap, I’m sorry.”

I laughed, “Dont worry about it. You were keeping me warm.”

He hummed, “Well in that case, you wanna go back to sleep for a little bit?”

“Fine. Five more minutes and then we get up.”

I giggled as he pulled me back in, nearly squeezing the life out of me for a moment.

“You know, as weird as this is, it feels nice to have a cuddle-buddy,” Sam breathed out.

“Hey, at least it’s nothing too scandalous,” I chuckled, eyes closed.

Then I heard a knock at the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Castiel’s voice rang through the closed door.

“What do ya need?” I answered back. Then I heard the door open, and looked up.

He started stepping in, but stopped dead in his tracks. “I, uh— Oh. Pardon me, I seem to be interrupting.”

“Cas—” I tried getting his attention but he’d already showed himself out the door. “Crap.”

Sam chuckled, I felt it in his chest. “That’s gonna be a fun one to explain.”

I sighed. “Hopefully he doesn’t go running his mouth so it’s an easy one to explain.”

I laid with him for a few minutes longer before my bladder called for release. “Sam, we gotta get up, man. I gotta pee.”

He groaned. “I don’t want to.”

“Whoa, what happened to happy-go-lucky, I-love-being-up-in-the-mornings Sam?” I half laughed.

“He’s tired,” he grunted out, rolling over.

I flipped to my back as he stole his arm from beneath my head, and sat up. I looked over to see him struggling to get up himself, but my urgency for the bathroom left no time for me to help him up. I bolted out the door to the bathroom and relieved myself, thinking of how to explain to Cas that what he saw was not at all what he thought it was. I ended up back in my room, finding Sam staring into space still sitting on the edge of my bed.

“You alright, Sammy?” I suppressed a smile.

His head shot up. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was zoning out.”

I nodded, throwing a thumb over my shoulder. “You wanna go grab breakfast?”

“That sounds great.”

We left the room together, chatting on our way to the kitchen. Then, I nearly lost balance running into Cas.

“Oh, hey! We wanted to talk to you,” Sam said, tapping Cas’s arm with the back of his hand

He put his hands up, defensively. “No worries. I understand.”

I dragged my hand on the side of my face. “No, but you don’t. I know you caught us looking a little precarious, but trust me, we just fell asleep together. We were watching Harry Potter and passed out.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, okay. I was sure you two were sleeping together.”

I laughed, “Yeah, no. Not by a long shot, man.”

“Alright, well that definitely clears things up for me. I will see you later.”

“Seeya, don’t get into any trouble.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about me,” he smiled, walking past.

Sam and I entered the kitchen soon after, finding Dean alone with a cup of coffee and a computer.

“Morning, sunshine.” Sam joked.

I walked over to him, leaning an arm on the table next to him, peering at the screen. “Found a case?”

He nodded silently, not looking up.

“Well?” Sam pressed, peeling a banana. “Care to enlighten us?”

Deans jaw ticked for a moment before he spoke gruffly, “Looks like a ghost. Strange, but similar, deaths happening at an old motel. So far three of ‘em.”

I took the seat next to him. “Where at?”

He pointed at the screen. “Plainfield, Wisconsin.”

I perked up, grabbing his arm for a moment. “Hey, that’s where Ed Gein committed all his murders!”

“Dude, yeah!” Sam joined in. “That guy was messed up.”

Dean huffed. “Well aren’t you two just perfect for each other. Be ready in half an hour.”

He got up, slamming the laptop shut and stalking out of the room.

I looked to Sam, confused. “What the hell is his problem?”

He shook his head, “No clue.”

I shook my head, slightly irritated. “Guess we gotta go get ready now.”

I walked out of the kitchen, going in the direction of my room. I stepped inside, pulling a duffel bad from my closet and throwing in at least enough clothes for a week, not knowing how long we’d be gone. After I was packed, I decided on a quick shower. I put my hair up into a topknot so I wouldn’t have to wash and dry it, and took the fastest shower I could. I finished getting ready a few minutes early, and grabbed all my things. I was going to throw it all in the car and wait for the boys, until my irritation got the best of me. I walked to Dean’s room, knocking on the door.

He answered harshly, “What.”

“It’s me, can I come in.”

“I guess.”

I flung the door open to find Dean standing there in the midst of getting dresssed. He was at his closet, so far only having his jeans and a tight-fit tee on, and I would be lying if I didn’t say that I couldn’t catch my breath for a moment. How in the world could he look so good rocking the simplest of things?

He pulled a flannel of a hanger, the deep red one that I liked. “What do you need?”

“I want to know what’s wrong.”

He turned to face me, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “Nothing. Is that all?”

I crossed my arms. “You may do a lot of lying for the job, but you’re kind of the worst at it sometimes.”

He shot me a glance, unenthused. “Nothing is wrong. Let’s move on. We got stuff to do.”

“Dean.”

“(Y/N),” he shot back, staring for a second before going about his business.

I clenched my jaw. “I’m gonna find out sooner or later.”

He huffed out, almost a laugh, as he threw things into his bag. “Yeah. Sure.”

I turned on my heel, leaving the room, everything in me fighting against my urge to slam the door behind me. He really knew how to push my buttons, more than anyone else sometimes. The boys were finally ready and came out into the garage where I was waiting. I pushed myself off the side of the impala, getting in the car. Dean flew out of the garage, heading straight for the highway. Most of the car ride was silent, only the faint sounds of Dean’s music over the speakers. Then he had to open his mouth.

“So, you two are sleeping together now, huh?”

I almost choked, head whipping to the side to look at Sam. He did the same, glancing at me, confusion set in his face.

“What? Dean, no, why—”

“You two seemed to be getting pretty cozy the past couple nights,” he answered back, staring straight at the road.

I scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“I saw you coming out of his room yesterday morning, (Y/N), don’t act dumb. And Cas told me he walked in on you all over each other this morning.”

“That was not what was happening. We saw him this morning and explained it all. We just fell asleep watching a movie together.”

“And the night before?”

Sam spoke up, “(Y/N) had a nightmare, Dean. She couldn’t be alone.”

“What, so you slept together?” His hands held tightly to the steering wheel.

“Yes, and that’s all we did. Sleep. Nothing more, we don’t feel like that about each other.”

He bitterly laughed. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Dean, seriously.”

“Fine. We’ll drop it.”

I huffed out a breath. “Thank you.”

The rest of the ride was quiet. We only made one or two stops for gas and bathroom breaks. It took us about 10 hours before we arrived in Plainfield and searched for a place to stay the night. We finally found a little motel just outside of town, and booked a room. Luckily, a pull-out couch was included so I wouldn’t have to give Dean more ideas about Sam and I, and I wouldn’t have to spend the night beside someone who was pissed at me for no reason. I walked in the room to find it perfectly adequate. and I threw my bag down on the floor, beginning to open up the pull-out.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked as he came inside. “I can take that, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not making you take the couch, Sam.”

“It pulls out into a bed at least. And you aren’t making me if I’m offering. Now, move your crap.”

He nodded at my duffel.

I sighed as dramatically as I could, “Fine.”

“So dramatic.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, I gotta be sometimes. Thank you, though.”

I pulled my bag away, walking to the far bed as throwing it down. I began unzipping it when I heard the thud of Dean’s duffel hitting the second bed behind me. I turned.

“What are we doing first?”

He glanced up at me. “Thought we’d check out the murder scene early tomorrow.”

“Alright. All three of us need to get dressed up?”

“Whoever wants to go.” He shrugged.

“I think I’ll hang back and do some more research on the town and possible leads, if that’s okay with you guys,” Sam said, setting his laptop on the small table in the room.

“Okay,” Dean answered, pulling out his ‘FBI’ suit to hang.

We went to bed, all exhausted from the trip. I woke up at 7 the next morning to Dean’s alarm blaring. We all ate a quick breakfast before getting ready to leave. I grabbed my suit, heading to the bathroom to change, and kicking myself for not being the one to stay at the motel. I didn’t know how I’d handle being alone with Dean, especially when he was in a mood. I changed quickly, making sure I looked professional enough to fool whoever we’d have to get past. I stepped out to see that Dean had already left the room.

I looked to Sam who had already got his computer up and running. “Where’d he go?”

“Waiting by the car outside,” he said, not looking up.

“Thanks.”

I walked across the room, stepping outside. Dean stood leaning against ththe impala, his back to me as I made my way over.

He heard my footsteps and turned. “Took you long enough.”

I stopped for a moment. Wow, he looks amazing right now.

“Gonna get in?” He asked.

“Oh. Yeah.”

I shook my head, opening the passenger door and sliding inside. He started up the car, and took off out of the parking lot.

“So,” he started, “you’re not sleeping together?”

“Dean. Seriously?”

He shrugged. “Can’t blame me for thinking so, you two spend a lot of time together.”

I looked over at him. “Yeah, that’s kind of what friends do.”

“We don’t do that.” He shot me a quick glance, raising an eyebrow.

“Give me a time and place and we will, then.”

He tried to hide the smirk that appeared on his face. “Yeah, sure.”

“What? Don’t want rumors spreading about me and you?”

“Sweetheart, you don’t want those rumors.”

“Who said that?” I furrowed my brows, the corner of my mouth twitching upwards.

He smiled at me. Butterflies, again.

We drove a few more minutes into town before we reached our destination. I peered at the building through the windshield as we drove up. It was creepy. Caution tape everywhere, the old run-down motel, the cloudy skies; it looked straight out of a horror movie. Dean parked the car, and we got out, walking to the police officer that was waiting on his team inside. We flashed him our badges and he let us past.

“I’m surprised no murders happened here before this,” Dean said quietly, leaning in.

I laughed. “Yeah, not the nicest of places for sure.”

He hummed in agreement. “Let’s see if we got any Casper activity.”

He took out his EMF detector, walking around the room, being careful not to step in any of the dried blood. He took a lap; no readings.

“Huh. Nothing here.”

I glanced around. “What the hell would’ve done all of this though?”

“Dunno. Judging by how all of the blood left their bodies and ended up friggen everywhere else, I could’ve sworn it would be one of those suckers.”

I nodded. “Wanna try to hospital?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

We spent the day gathering as many clues and evidence as we could, to no avail. By nightfall, we decided to call it a day and head back to our room. We got inside to find Sam taking a nap.

Dean whispered to me, “I’m gonna take a shower.”

I nodded. He went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. I decided to get dressed in something more comfortable and landed on a pair of sweats and a plain t-shirt. Can’t get more laid back than that.

I sat on my bed for a moment before I heard Sam moving around. I looked his way as he opened his eyes.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” I said.

He smiled. “Hey. You guys find anything useful?”

“Figure it’s probably not a ghost. Other than that, nope.”

“Mm.” He sat up, stretching before he stood. He walked over to me, taking a seat by my side and swinging an arm over my shoulders. “I didn’t find anything either. Not even connections between the people who died.”

“So weird.”

He agreed, falling back on the bed and taking me down with him. “Yeah. I’m sure something will turn up, though. It has to.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“You wanna go out tonight?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m beat. I didn’t get my nap today.” I laughed.

He snorted, squeezing my shoulder. “You’re no fun.”

Then we heard the door open, Dean stepped out.

“What about you? You wanna go out tonight?” Sam asked him.

“I’m good,” he said without so much as a glance our way.

Sam sat up. “Man, both of you? Since when am I the one to go out alone?”

I chuckled, sitting up next to him. “Since now, apparently. Go, though! Have fun enough for all of us.” I nudged his shoulder.

He shrugged getting up to get ready. Then I heard the tv switch on, and looked over to Dean. There he sat, on his bed, flipping through channels.

“What are you gonna watch?” I asked.

He stared silently at the tv and shrugged. Here we go again.

I heaved out a heavy sigh, pulling out my phone to fiddle on. Sam came out of the bathroom with a new shirt on, and what smelled like a little bit of cologne. I looked up from my device as he pulled his shoes on.

“Who are you trying to impress, sir?”

He smirked. “We’ll have to find out. I’ll see you guys later.”

He left the room, leaving me and Dean to ourselves. I looked over at him again as he settled on an old comedy. He noticed.

“What?” He asked, eyes still unmoving from the movie.

“Your attitude is what.”

“I don’t have an attitude.”

I scoffed. “Oh, sure. We were fine working the case today, and now you’re acting like I stole all of your leftovers or something.”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Funny how you keep saying that, and then end up in the same crappy mood again. Why won’t you just talk to me about it?”

“I can’t.” He grew impatient.

“Yes, you can.”

He sat up, finally looking at me. “No. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because, I just can’t. It’s stupid, you wouldn’t understand it.”

He stared at me.

“Maybe I would if you’d just talk to me!” My voice raised slightly.

“Why do you even care?” His voice raised to match mine.

“Why do you think? I care about you, and I hate it when you’re mad at me.”

He closed his eyes. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then what is the problem?” I leaned forward, searching his face for an answer.

He sighed, voice lowering. “Can we— maybe we can talk about it tomorrow. Just— not tonight, please.”

I shrunk back. “Fine. Promise me.”

He tilted his head with a blank stare.

“I’m serious, Dean. Promise me.”

He let out a heavy breath. “Okay. I promise. You’re a pain, you know that?”

I shrugged. “You’ll get over it.”

He stared for a moment, my heart fluttering until he looked away again. He laid down, turning off the tv. I laid back too, turning off the lights.

“Goodnight,” he said, turning over.

“Goodnight.”

I woke up to sunlight hitting my face through the window. I glanced towards the couch; no Sam. Then my eyes went to Dean. He was still sleeping. I watched him for a moment; he looked so at peace. The lines in his face were smoothed out, no worries were apparent on him. His eyelids began to move, but I couldn’t pull my gaze from his face. He looked handsome in the early morning hours, his eyelashes delicately fluttering until his eyes were opened. He noticed me and smiled.

“Way to be creepy, watching me sleep.”

His voice was deep and soft and full of sleep.

I smiled back, “You looked so peaceful, I couldn’t help it.”

“I bet you say that to all the guys.”

I laughed. “Nah, only the special ones.”

He rolled his eyes, chuckling. “I don’t want to beat up monsters today.”

“If we can’t find out what’s killing people, you might not have to.”

“That isn’t a good option either.”

“I know.” I yawned, stretching out. “Guess Sammy found a girl.”

Dean looked over his shoulder at the empty space. “Oh.”

“You still believe we’re together now?” I raised my eyebrows.

He looked back towards me. “I might, might, have been wrong there.”

“Told ya.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “We better get the day going.”

I agreed. We fully woke up and grabbed some breakfast from a cafe down the street. We went back to the motel to find Sam in the shower, and our day went on as normal from that point on, until we found the clues we needed to lead us to the killer.

“A witch? Oh, come on, I’m so sick of them,” I complained.

Sam shrugged. “Hey, we found hex bags in each of the rooms. Most likely the owner of the motel, or someone who works there.”

“Maybe a maid? It’s always the butler, so maybe it’s always the maid too,” Dean suggested with a sly smirk.

“That, as lame as it is, actually could be a really great place to start,” I responded. “Let’s pack up and find out who’s been cleaning the place up.”

We went and questioned the owner to find out which employees had been working when the murders took place, and landed on only one housekeeper: a man named Ken. We got his address and decided to do a little questioning. We arrived to his house, and Sam knocked loudly.

The door creaked open. “Hello?”

“Hello, we’re with the FBI, we have some questions to ask you,” Sam responded, flashing his badge.

The man behind the door, opened it a little wider. He grinned. “Yeah, I’m sure you are.”

He looked to me.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Dean stepped halfway in front of me before I could say anything. “You might want to watch yourself, you’re suspect for the murders that took place the night you were working at the motel.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Oh? Why don’t you come inside, then.”

He stepped just inside and he shut the door behind us.

“Anyways,” he began, “I’ve always wanted to meet the Winchester’s.”

Before we knew what was happening, our bodies flew up against the wall and landed on the ground harshly. We all attempted to scramble up, but as I attempted to stand, I felt a hand wrap around my neck. Ken pulled me backwards into him.

“Let her go,” Dean boomed.

Ken chuckled. “See, that’s where you’re making your mistake. Your little protective act only lets me know that your little girlfriend, here, is valuable to you. So, you might not like it if I just—”

He dropped me, and I felt my legs give out. It felt like all the air had been pulled from my lungs— No, it felt like I didn’t have lungs. I couldn’t breathe.

“You son of a—”

Thud!

Dean was slammed against the wall again. I watched from the ground where I lay as Sam attempted to go at him, but then it all went black.

I woke with a gasp, my body flying upwards in shock. I breathed heavily, finally catching my breath for the first time in what felt like eternity.

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down, you’re okay.”

I heard a voice, foggy. I turned my head quickly, finding Dean right next to me. Wait, no, he was holding me. We were someplace else, maybe in the house still? I heard distant voices. I felt tired.

“I… think I… need a nap,” I said, barely hearing myself speak.

“Whoa, no, no, don’t fall asleep, okay? Just— Here, just look at me. Look here, stay awake,” he spoke to me as I tried to listen.

My eyes still felt heavy.

“But— I’m tired. Just a… Just a nap.”

“No, (Y/N), don’t fall asleep yet, okay? We gotta make sure you’re alright.”

“What… Where are we?”

“In the house of a very bad witch.” I heard a woman’s voice. I looked up to see red hair. “I mean, come on now, I was able to fix you right up quite easily.”

“Yeah, thank you, by the way,” Sam said to Rowena, a tight smile accompanied his words. My vision began clearing.

“What are you doing here? What happened?” I cleared my throat, trying to sit up to find Dean’s chest hard against my back. I noticed his arms around me, too. I ran my fingers over one of his forearms, happy to be there. Then I realized there were two other staring at me, trying to communicate. I stopped and tried to listen.

“—and then, well, you’re lucky Sam had enough sense to call me when he realized what you’d be dealing with, otherwise, my dear, you’d be dead. Hmm.”

“Oh. How’d we get away, though?”

“It was really all me, of course.” She smiled, pleased with herself. “You’d have really been in trouble otherwise, too, with Dean letting his jealously get the best of him and punching someone in the face.”

“Yeah, well, the douche bag deserved it.” I felt him speak, the bass in his voice vibrating in his chest. “He was getting too handsy with her.”

“I would have gotten him away quicker if you hadn’t made him even more angry, Mr. Winchester,” Rowena sassed. “Anyways, I’ve got things to do more important than speaking with you two giants and the wee fuzzy-brained girl. Toodleloo.”

She picked up her dress and walked out of the house. I liked her.

“I like her,” I giggled.

I started feeling funny. Almost drunk, maybe more giddy.

“Can’t say I feel exactly the same,” Dean said.

“Regardless, she did save us there,” Sam responded.

I laughed, “Yeah, she’s fun.”

“I would’ve gotten him,” Dean continued his conversation with Sam.

“Dean, we all would’ve been in trouble if she wasn’t here. Even you’ve gotta admit to that.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He reached into his pocket for the keys, throwing them at Sam. “Here, go start the car.”

“Alright, hurry it up,” Sam said as he left.

I leaned my head up to look at Dean. “So, you were jealous, huh?”

“I am not. I just didn’t want his grimy hands on you, now come on, let’s get you back to the hotel.”

I felt movement as he began to move from behind me. I tried to stand up, but before I could, I felt his arms swing underneath me. He picked me up, and carried me out the door. I held onto his neck, enjoyed time in close proximity to him and wishing I could just tell him how I felt about him. If I could even figure it out for myself. He sat me in the backseat, helping me buckle in before we took off. Soon enough, we were back at the motel and Sam decided to go on a dinner-run. Dean and I entered the room alone, he helped me to walk until I could sit down.

“Here, just sit here,” he said, helping me to rest on the edge of his bed. He moved around me, squatting down between my legs and looking up at me. “Are you okay?”

I tilted my head, looking at him looking at me. “Yeah.”

He let out half a laugh. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

I shrugged, a contented smile on my face. “You’re cute.”

“(Y/N)—”

“I figured out why you’ve been so grumpy,” I cut him off, unable to stop from speaking.

He put his hands on the bed on either side of my legs. “Why’s that?”

“I think you didn’t like me and Sam.”

“I already told you I wasn’t mad at—”

“No, no, no. You didn’t like us together. You were being jealous. Like with the weird witch man. Rowena said so, and she’s smart.” I giggled.

He raised an eyebrow, gulping. “Uh, let me get you some water. Maybe that’ll help.”

“I’m right.”

“Now’s not the time to talk about this stuff, (Y/N), let’s just—”

“Uh uh. You said we’d talk about it today.”

“We can, later.”

He tried getting up, but I put my hands on his shoulders.

“But I like you, I wanna talk now.”

“This is just the spell wearing off, if you just—”

I sighed harshly. “No it’s not, stop it. I like you a lot. You’re so cute and you give me butterflies and make me nervous and make me smile a lot and all I can think about is you all the time.”

“(Y/N)…” he started, eyebrows knit together.

“I’m not saying it because of the spell, okay?” I started rambling. “I mean, I always feel that way, but I didn’t want to say anything. You know, I was kind of scared. Now, it kinda seems like maybe you feel the same way, and I just want to know, otherwise this is gonna be really awkward when I’m not feeling all weird and giddy and I jus—”

Before I knew what was happening I felt his lips on mine. I felt shocked. I took a moment to gather my wits, but I seemed to take a moment too long. He pulled away.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t want to force that on you, I thought you wanted…” He trailed off, a hand going to rub at his face. I reached out, pulling it away from his face. He looked up at me, apprehensive.

“Trust me, I wanted it,” I confirmed before leaning back in as quickly as I could.

His hands moved up to settle at my waist as he smiled into the kiss. I held his jaw in my hands, pulling him in as closely as I could. I never wanted that kiss to end, but it had to soon, as we needed air. Our foreheads rested against each other.

“I have wanted to do that for so long,” I whispered.

He laughed. “I’m just happy to know that Sam wasn’t the one doing it. Because you were so right, I was definitely jealous.”

“Knew it.” I giggled.

He hummed, pulling away from me. We looked at one another for a minute, taking it all in. I let my hand reach back up to his face, my thumb brushing against his cheek, looking at all the freckles that dusted his face.

I sighed, happy. “You wanna go again?”

He chuckled, a smile on his face. “Oh, for sure.”

I slapped the bed next to me, and he scrambled up, facing me. His arms immediately snaked around my middle, pulling me in tight. I held on to his neck, gazing up at him.

“You good?” He asked, a smile stuck on his face.

“More than.” I nodded, grinning.

He pressed his lips to mine, wasting no time. We stayed like that for several minutes, enjoying our time together and hoping it would never end. Until the door swung open.

“Whoa, walked in at the wrong time,” Sam exclaimed, closing the door as quickly as he shut it.

Dean and I looked at each other. He shrugged, “Whoops.”

I laughed, and he pulled me back in.

(EDIT: starting taglists now! let me know if you want to be on any!)

FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

#not me posting a supernatural fanfiction in the year of our Lord 2023 #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester one shot #sam winchester #castiel #supernatural #supernatural fic #spn fic

[d3adp00ls]

I’m still waiting for that angst fic pookie 😍🫶

Clingy

Vanessa (fnaf movie) x reader

Summary: Vanessa has been a lot more distant a lot but you didn’t think she would miss a important night like this. (I KNOW MY SUMMARY IS BEAUTIFUL)

Contents: Angst, Yelling, Tears, stressed Vanessa, Established relationship, hurt no comfort (yet), Vanessa gets slapped 😬, somebody needs driving lessons lol.

Word count: I'm pretty sure my dog knows.

Side note: 🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗

Pt.2 Pt.3

✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮

You were sitting on the couch in your shared home with Vanessa, watching a TV program that featured extravagant rings that cost more than your entire life. Recently, Vanessa had been coming home later than usual, and every time you tried to bring it up, she would dismiss your concerns or accuse you of being too clingy. You tried to brush off her words and the hurt they caused, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore your feelings. Eventually, you gave up and started going to bed before she came home. However, tonight was supposed to be different. You had pleaded with her to come home early and she had promised she would. Filled with hope, you had prepared a romantic candle-lit dinner and even bought her a gift. But as the minutes turned into hours, the food grew cold and the gift remained untouched on the table. You sat on the couch with a half-finished glass of wine, tears welling up in your eyes.

She was supposed to have arrived hours ago, and you had debated whether or not to just go to sleep. But as you were about to doze off, you heard the familiar sound of keys jingling and the front door opening. Vanessa, your late girlfriend, seemed oblivious to your presence as she quietly closed the door and went straight to the kitchen without acknowledging the food you had prepared for her.

With a clenched jaw, you stood up and cleared your throat, causing Vanessa to finally notice you. "Y/n? What are you doing up?" she asked with a confused and slightly worried expression.

You wanted to scoff at her question. How dare she ask that when she had promised to be here? "Oh, you know," you shrugged, taking a few steps towards her, "Just waiting for my girlfriend who was supposed to be here almost four hours ago." Your voice rose with pent-up anger towards the end, and you could see Vanessa flinch slightly at the sound of it.

"Y/n…I lost track of time, I'm sorry, really I am, I-" She started to apologize, but you cut her off, not in the mood for her excuses.

"Do you know what today is?" you asked, your voice heavy with disappointment. Vanessa looked even more puzzled, and you let out a sigh as you walked over to the table and picked up the small gift box you had prepared for her. You fiddled with it between your fingers, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill.

"June 7th," you said, looking back at Vanessa, hoping she would finally understand. But she still looked confused, and you felt your heart sink. "The day we started dating, two years ago. Does it not ring a bell, Vanessa? Or were you too busy thinking about work or some other woman while you were out all night?" you couldn't hold back your anger any longer, and you let out a loud yell, tears now streaming down your face.

"Oh…" Vanessa mumbled, finally realizing her mistake. You nodded, wiping the tears from your cheeks, but they kept coming.

"Yeah…" you said, your disappointment evident in your voice.

"Baby, I know I've been really busy and lost track of time, but please try to understand-" You cut her off abruptly, rolling your eyes and turning away.

"Here we go again…" you mutter under your breath, feeling her glare burning into the back of your head as you make your way to the bedroom. You toss the gift box in the trash on your way, feeling frustrated and angry.

"What do you mean?" she asks, following you into the room. You let out a sigh and close the door behind you, but she stops it with her foot and pushes it open, grabbing your arm and spinning you to face her.

"Don't you dare walk away when I'm talking to you," she says coldly, but you scoff and pull your arm away.

"No, you don't get to act like you haven't been doing the same thing for the past week. You always do this, yet whenever I try and speak up about it, I'm the bad guy? That's complete bullshit!" you yell, jabbing your finger into her chest.

"And don't even try to pretend that you've only missed spending time with me once. You do it every single day," you continue, your voice cracking as tears start to well up in your eyes.

"Every time you tell me you'll be here, you never are. And when I try to talk to you about it, you just shut me down and tell me the same bullshit excuse or you just flat out tell me to get over it. But it's getting harder and harder to ignore, Nessa. And this morning, I had to beg you to stay. You said you would, and I believed you. But then you showed up later than ever and didn't even respond to my messages. You didn't even remember what today was. At this point, I’m convinced I’m just some inconvenience to you." Your voice breaks as you continue to pour out your feelings, wiping away the tears that are now falling freely down your face.

She looks at you in surprise, wanting to reach out and comfort you, but you take a step back and wipe away your own tears before taking a deep breath and looking away from her.

"I'm tired of feeling like I'm not important to you, Nessa. I just want to spend time with you and feel like I matter to you. Is that too much to ask?" you say, your voice barely above a whisper now.

Vanessa let out a heavy sigh before shaking her head in frustration.

"Y/n, I love you, but I have responsibilities and obligations that I can't always put on hold for you," she said with a huff.

You looked at her with hurt and confusion in your eyes, crossing your arms and turning away. "Am I not important to you anymore?" you mumbled, your voice trembling.

Vanessa's sigh pained your heart as you heard it. "Of course you are, but you just don't understand," she started, but you interrupted her with a pleading look.

"Then help me understand," you begged, taking her hands and pulling her closer to you. You pressed your forehead against hers, desperate for her to see how much this was affecting you. "Please… I want to understand," you whispered, gazing into her eyes.

She looked away, her jaw clenching as she pulled her hands away from yours. Your heart sank as she avoided your gaze, and you clenched your fists in frustration.

"Okay," you said quietly, finally accepting that she wasn't going to explain. You pushed past her and left the room, heading to the living room.

You didn't hear her follow you as you grabbed your coat and began putting on your shoes. As you searched for your keys, you heard Vanessa enter the room and stand in the middle of it, watching you. But you didn't acknowledge her as you grabbed your wallet from the table behind her.

"Where are you going?" she asked, her tone a little more stern.

You ignored her and continued searching for your keys, finally finding them between the couch cushions. You stood up and began walking towards the door, but she grabbed your arm and turned you around forcefully.

"I asked you a question," she glared at you.

You glared back and snatched your arm away, walking past her towards the door. But she followed you, grabbing your arm more harshly this time and turning you around.

"No, you don't get to leave-" she started, but before she could finish her sentence, you had already raised your hand and slapped her across the cheek.

You were shocked at your own actions and immediately regretted it as you saw the red handprint on her cheek. You both stood there in silence and shock before you finally mumbled a quick apology and left.

She eventually made her way back to the bedroom, her heart breaking as she heard your car speed away. If she had stayed just five seconds longer, she would have heard the sound of another car zooming by and a loud crash. If she hadn't fallen asleep just ten minutes later, she would have heard her phone ringing.

But she would see all of that in the morning.

✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮✰✮

BRO I HAVE BEEN PROCRASTINATING THIS FIC FOR A WEEK I LITERALLY HAD IT FINISHED JUST NOT EDITED and then i was supposed to post it earlier but im on the phone with some friends BUT FINALLY I POSTED IT also ill post part two sometime this week hopefully ANYWAYS TOODLES🤪✌🏾

#fnaf vanessa #vanessa shelly x reader #vanessa afton x reader #fnaf movie #vanessa shelly #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #vanessa monroe #angst #❦𝐵𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎❦ #✰𝕄𝕪𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕤✰

[auspicioustidings]

The Wild Prince

Blue Blood Part 1

Summary: You are the Duchess of a small Kingdom and your father trades you away for military aid.

@chai-isms made the mistake of saying they liked a royalty AU and this... sort of didn't turn out anything like I had actually planned 😂 So sort of royalty AU ish? Maybe? IDK it's basically just shameless smut.

Word Count: 2.6k

CW: Mention of abuse, smut

Part 2

At least they hadn't put you in a dungeon you had thought at first, but after a month this room was driving you mad. The servant that delivered you food would not talk with you, would not answer any of your questions about what was going to happen to you.

The war had been raging for two years, but it had been a far away thing at the start. It was something so totally removed from your life in your father's castle that you weren't even fully aware that your side had been losing. It was only when he had returned six months ago and the way he looked at you had changed that alarm bells sounded in the back of your mind. While you may have not had a mother to tell you of such things, you knew enough from the gossiping of the servants when they thought you were not listening that you were of age to marry and as you were on only child, your father should try and make a match.

It made you bristle a little to think of. You managed the household well, was it so important that it must have a man at the head when he was gone? 

And then the war had come to linger in your home, blanketing your days with the unease of something being kept from you. When your father had them pack you up into a carriage you raged at him, only earning a backhand straight across your cheek that left an angry mark, a thin line in the middle of the bruise from his ring having split the flesh. He had growled that this marriage was how you could finally be good for something, informing you then that he had remarried and his new wife was expecting a child. It had put you in a state of numb shock that lasted for the whole week of travel.

You had tried your whole life to be worthy of your family name, to be a good daughter. It had been for nothing. Your father was sending you off as some sort of bargaining chip to give him an edge in this war and there was not one thing that you could do about it. 

Now you could only pass your days gazing out of the window and wondering where on earth you were. If only you hadn't been in such a daze, had actually taken some study of your surroundings when you had arrived. You had been taken to the room in this tower immediately on your arrival, hardly able to discern what was happening through your hazy misery. There had been people around you knew, you remembered somewhat foggily a thumb dragged across the fading mark on your cheek. A low growl, a bitten off curse. 

As the night fell you sighed at the sound of the bath being drawn for you in the other room. This was the routine, every second night a bath was drawn for you, candle light dancing across the water when you sunk down into that wet heat. The servant would be gone and you would bathe alone. After a lifetime of having maids scrub at you it was strange at first, but peaceful in a way. 

Tonight was much the same, your muscles relaxing as you let your head roll back and closed your eyes. The sound of someone entering startled you, opening your eyes slowly to look over. You had been prepared to see the meek servant, not a young man dressed regally who did not seem the least bit concerned that he had walked in on you in such a vulnerable and improper state. 

You didn't yelp, the noise caught in your throat. Instead you curled in on yourself, trying to hide any view of the delicacies of your body from his gaze. He walked closer, kneeling by the bath so he was so close that you could smell the orange oil from his fingers. 

"Do you know who I am?" he asked with a gallant smile. It was as if he was some potential suitor at a revelry instead of a stranger in your bathing chambers.

You shook your head, feeling like the water had turned to freezing and locked up all of your muscles. He was handsome in a way that bordered on overwhelming, the brown of his skin and eyes catching the light from the candles to make him almost seem holy in the way he glowed. 

"My name is Kyle Garrick" he said and you felt the panic you had been holding down burst out of you.

Kyle Garrick, the 3rd Prince of the largest Kingdom on the continent, the one that bordered your tiny Kingdom to the East. People called him the Wild Prince, the one who should never have been legitimised. Prince Garrick was not the Queen's son, his mother was a Princess of a conquered kingdom who the King had grown fond of, his favourite concubine. They said that the war hero and King's right hand, Duke John Price, had trained the Wild Price himself. The Duke had won countless battles that changed the fortunes of the Kingdom with Prince Garrick by his side. They said the Duke's men were all monsters of some sort or other. The Wild Prince. The Ghost. The Blood Druid. The men were practically fairy stories to someone like you, not living and breathing people that you might one day meet. 

"Y-your royal highness! Please forgive my rudeness" you cried, head snapping down in supplication. You were a nobody to a Prince, some minor Duchess in a tiny bordering Kingdom. To be naked in front of him was wrong on so many levels. 

He laughed and the warmth of it sent shivers down your spine and tears to your eyes. Your eyes were fixed on the water as his fingers started to dip into it, moving back and forth and coming dangerously close to your legs still pinned to your chest.

"Look at me Duchess" he said and you found yourself giving a quick shake of your head. How could you look at him? You were shaking, naked, completely unworthy to be in his presence. 

"I said look at me" he ordered, your chin roughly pulled up with the hand not playing with the water near your legs. Gone was the gallant smile, his eyes now dancing with the amusement of a predator playing with their prey, your own eyes widening when you felt the brush of his fingers on your bare shin. The hand on your chin moved your head to the side.

"Good, your cheek has healed up. Couldn't have you getting married with a marked up face now could we?"

You didn't know what he wanted you to say. You were desperate to be anywhere but here, his presence was oppressive, bearing down on you and making your insides feel like they were fizzing. You had never felt so vulnerable. He didn't seem to mind your silence, only smirking and running his fingers up your shin more deliberately, taking delight in the way your pupils dilated and your breathing hitched. 

"That little bitch on the throne is blocking me from granting Ghost a proper title, I can imagine her face when she realises he's married the sole noble of the Western territory."

You could barely concentrate and he ran his hand up and down your leg, cresting over your knee occasionally causing the brush of his pinky against the swell of your breasts. That fizzing heightened and you involuntarily shifted, feeling a jolt between your legs from the friction of squeezing them together. You tried to focus, to keep your eyes on him and actually find out what was going on. If the whole situation wasn't already wildly improper you were sure you would have reacted with more horror at him addressing the Queen of this nation as a little bitch.

"I don't... Western territory? I am sorry your Royal Highness, I'm only a Duchess of the Kingdom to the West. I'm not a noble of any of the territories here," you said, not able to keep your voice even and instead hearing the breathlessness of it floating through the steam. 

"There is no Kingdom to the West Duchess, not after the Duke dared to mark what wasn't his to touch," the Prince cooed, as if it wasn't something world shattering to have said. Your Kingdom had been fighting a war with another small Kingdom for years only to be conquered in the space of a month. For you. They had conquered a whole Kingdom because of a mark on your cheek. 

You were overwhelmed, heart beating violently fast and frozen muscles going pliant. Plaint enough for him to apply pressure and shift your legs a little so they weren't completely pinned against your chest, allowing his exploration to continue past your knee and to your thigh. You heard a desperate whimper on the air, confused when you realised a second after it must have come from you. 

The Prince chuckled, shifting his body so that he could guide your head to his shoulder, holding a hand to your hair to keep you there. Your hands came to cling to his shirt, soaking it. You didn't know what was happening to you and it was grounding to be able to bury your face into him, cutting off your sight so you could try and get a handle of your other senses.

"That's it Duchess, just relax yeah? Ghost doesn't want to break you on your wedding night, so we're going to work on getting you nice and ready for him until then" he whispered right behind your ear. 

You didn't know what he meant. Nobody had ever prepared you for what happened on the wedding night, until a month ago you hadn't even known you were to be married so soon. When his hand finally dipped between your legs to cup at you there you cried out, tears spilling over at the new sensation. 

"Gods you've never-" he growled lightly, only stopping himself when he felt you tense to pause and readjust his voice to be gentler as he carefully ran a finger up your slit. "Bet they told you it was a sin, that you couldn't touch yourself here" he groaned when he felt the change in texture from water to arousal. 

They had their work cut out for them getting you ready for the Hunt. MacTavish would oversee the ritual of it obviously, would massage the divine oils into your flesh and dress you properly to be released into the woods after the wedding ceremony. When Ghost hunted you down and took what was rightfully his it would seal the marriage in the eyes of the old Gods, but he would be in a frenzy from the incense, incapable of preparing you properly in his pursuit of sinking into your heat and marking you his from the inside. So they would have to do what they could for you beforehand, spend the next week before the ceremony doing everything to keep you wet and wanting.

Kyle, clear headed and not under the influence of any of Johnny's bloody Druid smokes or potions, already found it hard to keep calm. The noises you were making, it was like a challenge being presented to him to get you to make more. Get you boneless and begging for it. When he started to make firm circles on your clit he got unbearably hard at the broken moan spilling from your lips as your hips started to move.

You felt like you were standing on the top of a tower looking over the edge, your stomach in knots. You had been told it was sinful to touch yourself in this way and in your efforts to be only the best daughter you could be you had taken heed and never tried. But this? Gods it was setting you ablaze. You could feel your insides clenching on nothing, feel your hips lifting to push against his fingers. He was speaking absolute sin into your ear and it made every sensation more intense, sending pulses of pleasure straight down to your core.

"Doing so well Duchess, pretty little clit taking it so well. Doesn't it feel good?"

You whined incoherently. You were desperate for something you couldn't name, feeling incomplete.

"I know Duchess, I know. Beautiful cunt wants something to clench on, greedy little thing" he said, fingers leaving your clit to trace down and circle your entrance, teasing with just the tip of his finger pushing against you before he growled and returned to your clit with renewed vigour. "You're going to cum for me. You're going to cum just like this tonight and tomorrow I'll make sure you get a finger inside to squeeze yeah? Fuck love going to get you to beg for my tongue, get Price to teach you how to ask real nice for it."

You couldn't really focus on the words anymore, too lost in the approaching crest of this wave. Kyle was mostly saying them for himself now anyway, hips rutting away against the side of the tub to try and get some relief. 

The orgasm was the most intense thing you recalled ever feeling, body going taught like a bowstring as the Prince brought you through it with his fingers. Your whole body felt like it had been flooded with sensation and then all at once you were boneless, limbs dead weights.

"Good girl Duchess."

You were shivering now, the water having cooled. When his hand left the water you went to move your head, but his other hand kept it there. You could hear the sound of skin on skin, his hot breath at your ear getting heavier and more strained before the sound stopped after a loud groan from him. You weren't sure what was going on, but it made you tingle a little again between your legs. 

His hand returned to the water, dipping in and out a few times before he finally let your head out from his shoulder. The dim light hurt your eyes after so long in darkness and before you could try and ask him what had just happened he scooped you out of the tub, not caring that he was getting his clothing completely soaked in the process.

The next 10 minutes were confusing and blurry in your mind, him drying you off and dressing you for bed like he was a servant rather than the Prince of a Kingdom that had just conquered yours. He tucked you in, bade you goodnight and made his way to the door. 

You thought that was it until he paused, tensed. Was he going to reveal that this had been a test and you had failed? Were you about to be thrown out? You had never felt so thoroughly ruined and anxious before. What did he want from you?

Kyle knew he shouldn't, but fuck it, what was the use in being a Prince if he couldn't indulge in the small things every once in a while. He whirled around, marched back to you in the bed and pressed a hard kiss to your lips before leaving again, making sure to lock the door behind him. Price was leaning on the wall in the hallway waiting for him, raising an eyebrow when taking in the absolute state Kyle was in.

"Fine" Kyle sighed, "I admit that this was a good idea, you were right and I should never have doubted you and your magnanimity. Happy?"

"Cheeky today Gaz?"

"Nah, just taking the piss. It was a good call Sir, she'll be good for Ghost."

He licked his lips on his way to his chambers and felt a rush of heat at the taste of you lingering there. Not just Ghost he thought.

#cod #cod au #fanfic #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #mhairiwrites #tf 141 x reader #the tf141 x reader is implied more than actually present #one day I will learn how to write decent smut and then it is over for you bitches

[formulatrash]

I was working on gaining experience in motorsport but now I don't want to anymore due to the news. I have been torn up about this since it was announced. Am I even safe working in this industry? Is it only a matter of time?

I think there are two things to take from this: even in an organisation as closed-ranks as Red Bull, this was investigated. And although it's depressing to see many people either expressing disbelief or seeking to discredit the victim, there are a much larger number of people outraged. Not just that it happened but with the entire process, including the way it is being played as a political trophy within Red Bull as an organisation and the wider reaction of Formula 1 and the FIA.

In every industry, there are imbalances in power that lead to exploitation. Ableism, racism, sexism and homophobia go hand in hand with unfairnesses like nepotism and favouritism. Some industries, especially those that people really want to work in and where there are limited opportunities, have it worse - you see it in acting, in games, in music, in motorsport.

Nowhere is safe from the structural inequalities that frame the world. In any job you'll be in some level of danger. That's not intended as a blanket scare or as some way to minimise or dismiss the specific (and extremely unpleasant) case being brought this week.

I definitely have experienced sexism and outright attempts at exploitation/abuse in motorsport. A man who's still a popular pundit spent several years lying to me and even though I'm really not this naiive, somehow convincing me to exchange lewds. Another one who's in a senior editorial position routinely sends me obscene messages. Men from teams and championships and heritage programmes have tried to get me to fuck them and I'm not young or hot or particularly desirable - it's just that I was there and a woman and so it's almost seen as obligatory that they do it, so they can dismiss you as a slut.

I wrote a little about this when the Mazepin thing came out a few years ago. It resonated with a painful number of women across motorsport, I got hundreds of messages after it was posted.

But. This is being taken seriously. There is a clear level of discomfort within the wider paddock about Horner's presence - some of that is political, it is in the teams' interests for there to be disruption at Red Bull. But a lot is clearly pretty visceral horror and anger at both the reputational damage to the sport and what's happened.

Do not let the fact that there are gross people out there deter you from a dream. Do let yourself be angry about it and mould that anger into a toolkit to address it. Look out for the people around you, try to promote positive workplace cultures, call out unpleasant behaviours, especially in scenarios where you are relatively unaffected. (eg: if you're a straight woman and someone says something gross about a gay man, if you're a white person and someone says something racist, etc)

Motorsport needs good people to work in it to change. It needs you far more than you need it. Don't let it reverse or exploit that and you will have a level of power that constitutes safety because you won't let it damage you for the sake of getting something it isn't offering. (If someone is behaving exploitatively then they are not giving you anything, they are trying to see what they can take)

It's been a shit week. I feel awful for the woman who's been doxxed, robbed of compensation and had her career ruined. Who's being discussed and discredited by the paddock, by journalists, by the most toxic fans. In a just world, people would be protecting her but that would need the population of all those groups to change significantly.

So don't let it put you off. Let it make you keener to displace them.

#f1 asks #cn: christian horner

[yuzukult]

yours, but not yours 05 || csc & reader

title: yours, but not yours 05 pairing: choi seungcheol x fem!reader/oc genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, fake dating!au, bad influence!seungcheol, nice guy syndrome!namjoon, mechanic!seungcheol wc: 8.0k summary: when a nice guy gets too overbearing, you’re stuck with the option of having a fake boyfriend. warnings: profanity a/n: ello it’s me do you remember me... anyways, hope you all enjoy!!

You never thought you’d find yourself in this position: in between Kim Yubin and Choi Seungcheol. 

He stands there, outside of your bedroom door with his arms by his sides, sleeves still rolled up to his elbows from washing the dishes earlier. If you could see the enmity now, the steam whistling out of his ears would be visible. Heat radiates from his cheeks, fueled with all the things he’s been holding back since he’s learned about the Kim siblings, and he’s ready to combust.  

“You’re fucking joking,” he practically spits.

“S-Seungcheol,” Yubin stutters; the palm of her hand pressing down against the cushion of your loveseat couch as she forces herself to stand straight. She swallows, throat bobbing up and down as her eyes grow wide, alcohol flushing out of her system the moment she sees Seungcheol walk out. There’s resemblance between her and a child cowering in fear at the sight of a strict parent as she holds her hands in front of herself, observing every move he takes. “You’re—You’re here,” she lets out a nervous laugh. “I…I thought nobody else was home.”

She states the obvious, and the evident expression wiped across Seungcheol’s face is enough without interrogating his feelings. Everything stills and grows silent—you could almost hear your neighbors talking to their families next door and the cars driving by on the main road from how quiet it gets.

“You… You know, I thought you looked familiar,” he begins leerily before shutting his lids with a heavy sigh that releases from his chest. Then his eyes—those chocolate colored irises are suddenly dark when they open, filled with vexation and fury when they land on Yubin. You’ve never seen him angry like this before. Disappointed, yeah, but this is a totally different side of him that he unravels. “After all the things I’ve heard about you—from your best friend, too—it makes sense. Fits together like a missing piece of the puzzle. Especially with Namjoon too, everything clicks,” his jaw tenses. “You’re Mrs. Kim’s kid. The bitch who owns the country club.”

“My mother isn’t a bitch,” Yubin says through her gritted teeth. Smoothing out her skirt with the warmth of her hands, she clears her throat and pushes the strand of hair behind her ear as if the messy rat’s nest would be resolved from the mere action. Even when he says harsh words about her own mother, she hides behind that sheer facade because she’s trying to sway him with her mellifluous tone. Was your best friend really that two-faced the entire time? “But I-I am. I see that you finally recognize me after all this time.”

“It’s a little hard to remember you without the flamboyant pink tutu and the pounds of makeup on your face. Your stylist team was just hired for the night, weren’t they?”

Mouth agape, she scoffs in disbelief.

Why does that attire sound familiar?

Then the memory comes back like a storm. It was years ago—you’d find out that Yubin’s parents were elitists. Their wealth was the explanation for her and Namjoon’s capability to afford such exorbitant things; from her red bottom heels to her Hermés Birken bag and Namjoon’s array of Aston Martins, Maybach Exeleros, and Bugattis, when she told you what her parents did for a living, it answered all your open questions. She and her family were part of a society back at home–her explanation glorified, you simply narrowed it down to her lifestyle consisting of a bunch of rich people trying to kiss each other’s asses over some golf clubs and banquets.

Although you couldn’t relate to any of Yubin’s upbringing and her current lifestyle, her personality was enough for you to stay as a friend. She was lonely; no amount of money in the world could pay for friendship that was pure and genuine so you stuck around. Yubin always said that the people who followed her around only remained because of her money, guilt and sympathy sinking in the pits of your stomach, becoming the main reason that you decided that you’d be her best friend. Everyone needs a friend–even your worst enemy.

You’d be a loyal friend to Yubin, despite all the times you desperately needed help financially and she wouldn’t even bat a lash. It wasn’t her money, so to speak, therefore asking Yubin to lend a hand was disrespectful if it meant digging into her parents’ wallets to fund for your necessities. Living in the basement of your uncle’s house, she came to visit you in the late hours of the night while knocking obnoxiously on the back door that led downstairs to your makeshift apartment. No headboard, sharing a bathroom with six other people who resided in that home, never having any privacy since the laundry room was your bedroom, having Yubin seated on the edge of your bed while dressed in head to toe designer was juxtaposing. 

Honestly, at first, you were a bit taken aback from the sight of her.

Usually, she wouldn’t get dolled up like this. Her makeup was smeared, just as it was now, black mascara streaked down her cheeks that was brushed with a blush that didn’t fit her skin tone. The lipstick was a hot pink to match her dress, layers of tulle stacked atop each other that made her seem like she was a contestant for a pageant and left you wondering how something like that could include so many zeros behind the first number. She needed a new stylist – whomever hired her definitely had a personal vendetta against Yubin.

“He’s the one,” you vaguely recalled her hopelessly declaring, eyes sparkling under the shoddy lights in your room. The one bulb in the corner was flickering, and you made a mental note to yourself that you would ask your handyman neighbor if you could bum one off of him instead of noticing how blindly in love Yubin was. “He basically told me that he’d wait for me–that he never met a girl like me before. He made me feel like a princess, like I was worth something. He didn’t even care about the money! His family has enough on their own.”

And quite frankly, if you’d been paying attention, you would’ve remembered this and construed it differently. But your priority wasn’t your friend who claimed to have met her soulmate–the homework assignment due in 13 minutes–no wait, 12 minutes, was your main concern.

“Mmm, wow, that’s crazy,” you responded, and thinking back on it, you should’ve been more engaged and probed for more because now you’re paying for the consequences of your actions. It was terrible on your part because you’d been a bad friend by not listening but also missing all the red flags that she was practically waving in front of your face.

This angle of Seungcheol is peculiar; usually he’d throw a couple sordid jokes here and there then attempt to use pick up lines paired with a wink. He’s normally kind, in spite of the label fuckboy he tends to walk around with, in semblance to the ‘A’ in the Scarlet Letter. Seungcheol would wear this identity with pride, but he never failed to still remain respectful of everyone’s boundaries–even now he doesn’t change that, and that’s without the trademark. 

Yet, as he stands here before Yubin, he’s like an entirely different person. He’s cold–easily mistaken for a draft, but your place was warm with the heat on blast. Your thick layer of clothes, locked windows and space heater in the middle of the apartment didn’t warrant the frosty air but that unopened invitation didn’t matter to his attitude.

Seungcheol narrows his gaze. “Not usually something a guy who’s in love with you would say, would it?”

“Seungcheol,” you call his name out sternly but he doesn’t give you an ounce of attention–a new move on his part, considering he claims to kiss the ground you walk on. “What’s going on?”

“I’m baffled,” he begins, shaking his head. “This whole time, you pretended to not know me, then you come and tell my girlfriend that I’m in love with you. What gives? Did your brother implant that in your head? Because it’s fucking seeming like the Kim siblings just love to lie to get things their way. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?”

“Seungcheol,” you reiterate, hand on his protruding chest to ease him. The touch soothes him just barely, and he takes a step back. “I asked a question—what's going on?”

When he diverts his attention to you, his gaze softens. Shoulders loosening, breathing unlabored, he becomes like putty underneath your fingertips. Even though this thing between you both isn’t clear, one thing you know for sure is that you have an impact on him, whether he likes it or not. “Your friend here,” the way he labels Yubin your friend leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, “… is making shit up. I just wanna make it clear, I’un lead on chicks like her.”

“Chicks like her? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means…” he doesn’t want to flat out say it but he knows you won’t let this go without a straightforward response. It’s the old version of himself, the one he’s been so desperately trying to get you to forget and see that that isn’t who he is anymore. Seungcheol sucks in his cheeks, running his fingers through his hair frustratedly. “We met before you. My lifestyle was different then—which meant I wasn’t gon’ go chase a girl with the intention of wanting anything more than somethin’ temporary.”

The words don’t leave your mouth, but he knows what you’re thinking. “I’m not like that anymore, if that’s what’s going through your head.”

“Fine,” you step aside and look over at Yubin. “Explain yourselves. You don’t get to come into my house, drunk off your shits, and you,” pointing at Seungcheol, you click your tongue, “... you don’t get to leave without explaining her accusations. Start over, and don’t leave any details out.”

Seungcheol raises a brow at Yubin. “Should I be explainin’, or should you?”

She doesn’t respond, instead she opts for crossing her arms over her chest aggravatedly. 

“I should’ve told you sooner,” Seungcheol sighs. There’s a reason why he doesn’t tell you anything about his family, and truthfully, he feels that it’s justified. Some things are enough to lure in people with impure intentions and some are enough to push them away. With you, he’s afraid of both outcomes. “My parents are a lot… more well off then I’ve led you to believe. My father owns a tech company and my mom owns her own fashion company,” and when he says the name of the brand, you can’t even hide when your hand covers your mouth in shock. “... And, I’m pretty sure you know that Yubin’s family associates with those in that tax bracket. So, of course, my mom wants to leave quite an impression on those in that… community,” Seungcheol says through his gritted teeth, the concept bitter in his mouth, “hence the constant tea parties, gatherings, fundraisers and galas. I can’t say that I share the same concerns as my parents, but… that’s my mom. So I attend them for her, despite the fact that I don’t really care about what they say about me–I care about how they view her.”

You roll your lips. “And how do they see her?”

“The woman with two sons who seem to let their dick speak instead of their heads.” 

And… that’s where it hits.

This reputation he created for himself that began early in his youth precedes him. A player, a fuckboy, a guy who can’t seem to hold onto a girl—not because he’s unable to but it’s just what he wanted. Girls weren’t his problem, he was his own problem, and at the time, it didn’t feel like an issue either. He liked how fast paced his lifestyle was. There was no commitment required or expected, unlike everything else at home, but he never… made it clear to you that it’s why he chose that route. The only thing he’s ever explained was that he chose you to be the reason to quit that mentality. 

“The pink tutu,” you roll your lips, tilting your head to the side before glancing over at Yubin. “Was that… was that the night of one of your mom’s fundraisers? Your mom… she mentioned something about how you didn’t have options for a date. Well, I could’ve sworn that’s what she said until you came to my apartment that night, talking about… how there’s this boy…”

Your shoulders drop when you put two and two together. “She meant you. Yubin went on about how there was this boy who basically professed his love to her, but there was something about him that he couldn’t change and swore she’d be able to.”

He scoffs. “And does that sound like me?”

It… doesn’t. 

When you look at the person who you claim is your best friend, the epithet “best” and the identification “friend” doesn’t quite fit her anymore. She’s an adaptation of herself that you can’t get behind; the old Yubin who was shy, timid, and oftentimes needed your support suddenly… vanishes. 

The key word you should’ve listened for was “basically.” He basically professed his love, he basically says that he’d wait for her, and he basically told her that he’s waiting for the right time to come back and be with her. As she was bawling her eyes out from her mother’s harsh words that evening, you realize it was a distraction from the assumptions she made with indirect descriptions that you missed so easily because you trusted her.

The silence is thick in the air. Both Yubin and Seungcheol anxiously wait to hear from you, hoping that you’d pick them to side with but you’re left with confusing thoughts.

“I’ll um… I’ll get you an Uber,” you finally say as you pull your phone out of your pocket, and Yubin’s face contorts to a baffled one. “You need to get home–it’s late, and I don’t think you’re in the right mindset to have this conversation.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” she snaps, but you’re already clicking the fast checkout option on the screen. “I can have this conversation. If everything he said to me was a lie, then what makes you think he won’t lie to you?”

You sigh. “I’m not having this conversation until you go home, drink some water, and get sober.”

And suddenly, that light that normally radiates from behind Yubin’s head fades.

In your eyes, despite all the things she’s done, Yubin has remained your best friend. Even with the issues you’ve had with her and Namjoon–you justified her actions, tried your best to understand what it’s like to be in her shoes, and without saying, you forgave her. It’s like an instinct, muscle memory–something you did unconsciously because how and why would Yubin, your best friend Yubin, the one who had your back for as long as you remember–how can Kim Yubin be the constant toxicity in your life? She was never like this before.

Or… has she always been and you’ve been too blinded by friendship to even realize?

“I appreciated you,” she begins, stepping in closer. The mascara that smears underneath the eyes isn’t the reason her gaze grows dark, it was her own doing. Her true colors are showing now, a gloom cloud casts over her as she finally says everything she’s been holding back until this very moment. “I admired you. I valued our friendship–I told you that I thought Namjoon was more fitting for you, and for good reason, too. I thought that we’d have that like–typical movie friendship where you’d end up with my brother, I’d be your maid of honor, and you’d be walking down the aisle in our parents’ backyard with Namjoon standing at the end of it.”

A look of incredulity appears on your face. “And what happens if I just… never end up with Namjoon? Have you ever thought about that?”

Yubin rolls her eyes. “It’s not that hard to convince you. You have a soft spot for me–I’m your best friend, the only one at that. Those other girls are just people you hang with, not people you trust. Even so, they all have the same opinion as I do–Namjoon is yours. You just need to get out of that head of yours and just listen.”

“Are you even listening to me?” you exasperate. You feel the heat burning through your skin, the tips of your ears warm from the anger boiling within. “I keep fucking telling you that I’m not interested in Namjoon–”

“You will,” she emphasizes. Your phone buzzes in your hand but your eyes don’t pull away from hers. “If you stop denying it, maybe you can stop this whole enemies to lovers mentality and finally let him love you. You’re always talking about self worth, but it feels like you don’t even recognize your own.”

Your phone vibrates again. Sneaking a glance at the screen, the timing of the Uber couldn’t be better. “Your ride is here. Get out.”

“I’m not done–”

“Go home, Yubin,” you state sternly through your gritted teeth. A wave of deja vu hits, almost like you’ve done this exact scenario before but with someone else. “I’ve–I’ve had enough.”

Right. You said the same words to Namjoon.

When she finally concedes and shuts the door behind her, your body releases the tension and you free the held breath from your lungs. Being in your twenties and lost in life was enough – having to figure out where you fit in the world, deciding whether or not someone is right for you, and if you want to spend the rest of your life with them (or… do you even want that for yourself?) was more than you needed on your plate, but dealing with your best friend trying to dictate every choice you make was only adding to the pressure. She’s supposed to make things easier, not harder.

As you lock the handle, you’re left with the next issue to tackle on your list.

Choi Seungcheol.

Where does this… leave the two of you? The situation was between him and Yubin, after all, but why did it feel like the indignation he’s radiating is toward you, too?

“I… I think Imma sleep in the garage,” he announces, walking over to the coat hook to grab his jacket. “I appreciate your offer of lettin’ me crash here–”

“— But what?” you interrupt, perplexed. You didn’t do anything wrong, so why are you paying the consequences of someone who did? “You’re–you’re pushing me away again. Did I do something?”

“I’m just —” he pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts. When he speaks this time around, his voice is gentler and calmed. Folding the jacket over his arm, he lets out a sigh. “Do you know why I fell for you?” 

You blink blankly. It’s the question you ask constantly but Seungcheol never gives a straightforward answer, of course you’re curious and have no idea how. “Why?”

“Because you’re simple,” Seungcheol begins, hands slipping into the front pockets of his sweatpants. “Not in a bad way, but in a good way. Simple as in — you’re not living the type of life that my parents live and want me to. Every action I make is judged — from what I decide to do after high school, what girls I date, and what I just want to do generally. You? The simplicity goes down to the point where you’re craving a corn dog in the middle of the night so you pop a frozen one into the air fryer. Even when I poke fun at how much ketchup you pour, all you do is give me the side eye and continue.”

Rolling your lips, you’re left clueless. Where’s he going with this?

“I wanna love someone I admire,” and somehow, with just a few words, there’s a twinge in your chest. “I admire you. I admire the way you live your life — in spite of some drama—you live it in simplicity. You drive a car that could be replaced, but you choose not to. ‘It works’ is your mentality, not that it’s out of date and you want the newest and prettiest toy at the dealership. You’re just unapologetically you.”

“That doesn’t make me special,” you interject, and Seungcheol lets out a laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“It doesn’t,” he clarifies. It’s a bit offensive, but the reality of things. What makes you so different from all the other girls he’s met–how is it that you stick out the most from the plethora of women he’s encountered? “That’s just a portion of what makes up you. You’re not special because you’re simple – you’re special to me because… you make me feel comfortable. Like I don’t gotta flaunt my money around you, and you could say that about anyone, ‘cause you’re right, you can. But I’un feel that way about them. I feel that ‘bout you.”

“But you… you don’t want to be with me right now. You said so yourself – you need space because you can’t tell if my feelings are real.”

“Because I really can’t,” he admits solemnly, eyes trailing elsewhere as he licks his lips. “This whole thing with Yubin – fine, whatever. I’ll deal with her and Namjoon for you, but that’s ‘cause I like you. I wanted to be with you in the beginning because I thought you’d give me an ounce of a chance and you were just unsure since Namjoon kept putting things into your head. But I know now that it was your decision, and when you ignored my feelings toward you, that was your choice. Not Namjoon’s doing, not Yubin’s. You refuse to accept anything I’ve said, and it makes it hard to believe that you woke up one day and embraced me. You didn’t – you just feel guilty. You thought you lost me for a moment, and now you’re wondering if you’re missing out.”

The silence between the two of you is loud. It lasts for a couple minutes before you finally break it, words shaky and uncertain.

“What does this mean for us?”

As much as you hate to admit it, you sort of miss him. His cologne, the scent of the gel in his hair, the smug look on his face, and his fatuous pick up lines were just a few things to name off the top of your head, but the reality of it all is that you miss him. He used to just be some contemptible guy in your life that wouldn’t fuck off, but now, you’re suddenly wishing that he’d be by your side, chasing for your attention. You never know what you have until it’s gone, right?

You haven’t seen Seungcheol in over a week.

And blaming Yubin for him disappearing from your life in minutes is easy, but the real answer would be that you drove him away. 

The garage door is closed, but you can hear the clanging of his tools from inside and the fluorescent lights beaming through the cracks of the framing gives it away that he’s here. Rent was due yesterday, and instead of calling you up with a tacky line to meet up with him so that he could transfer the money to you online (it was totally unnecessary, but he claims he wanted to see your pretty face), he just… sent you money. Nothing more, nothing less. Seungcheol wants space—he made that very clear. 

At work, your mind works overtime.

The glass walls of your office look out into the workspace shared among your coworkers – the promotion was great in terms of what’s now written on your paycheck, but the position change came with an isolated office and your Outlook inbox incessantly ringing with notifications of new emails. The clacking against the keyboards, clicking of mouses, soft murmurs of those who visit another’s cubicle to stir up a conversation and the gossip that occurs by the water cooler isn’t audible anymore. The peacefulness is hostile – the heavy sounds of traffic, honking, and bystanders on the street below are usually a distraction, but today, Seungcheol causes the commotion in your mind. 

What did this mean for you? For you and Seungcheol? Are you supposed to apologize? Do you… start chasing him?

But that would make you seem soft and like every other girl… right?

You scratch your head.

Guys are always confusing—you’ve yet to find a guy that’s straightforward and honest… that is until you met Seungcheol. He tells you exactly how it is; from his endeavors in his past life up until his feelings for you presently, he doesn’t hide anything from you besides the extent of his parents’ wealth. But he had his reasons for that, right? Were they even justifiable?

Even so, that didn’t matter to you.

But why are you having a hard time reading an uncomplicated yet complicated guy?

Before your thoughts could spiral further, one of your managers knocks on the door with an anxious smile. When you gesture him to come in, he eases his steps toward you slowly.

“Heyyy,” he begins, dragging his greeting. You spot a twitch in his jaw; it tightens and loosens with the occasional gulp. Dokyeom is a great boss — what you thought was impossible, separating management and friendship, he made it work. “Listen, remember that client we had a couple months ago? The software company – the one where –”

“Yeah,” you interrupt with a raised brow. Whenever Dokyeom gets nervous, he tends to add information into the conversation that may be necessary for someone who hadn’t been involved in anything earlier and needs context, but you weren’t one of those people this time. “I remember them. What’s up?”

“This… this may be a lot to ask from you but they’re asking us to attend their banquet this weekend. We helped increase their numbers, and they want us to celebrate with them.”

“I… don’t really want to go,” you confess, and Dokyeom plops into the seat across from your desk. “I haven’t been in the mood to… socialize.”

He puffs his cheeks. “Well, what if I told you that this isn’t something I’m asking from you, but demanding that you do?”

Well, this is different.

“If you’re making me, do I even have room for objection?”

He responds with a ‘no,’ a smile stretching on his face from ear to ear. “But you can at least go with Rowoon from business development. He said he’d be more than happy to accompany you.”

Truthfully, that doesn’t persuade you.

When Dokyeom leaves, not taking ‘no’ for an answer, the thought still doesn’t excite you. Why would you want to go to a banquet to celebrate the success of your project with a coworker while you’re occupied with barely making it to work? The drag marks from the bed to the front door says it all.

And when you’re at the water cooler, attempting to refill the 64oz Hydroflask (which you regret buying now, mostly because you’re stuck standing there for a solid 5 minutes because of the slow flow of the stream), your coworker, Hani, stops by. Despite the amount of people you dislike having small talk, Hani is one of the few you don’t despise. 

“So,” she begins, popping her lips. “I heard you got roped into attending that party for the Choi project.”

You groan, a hand on your waist as you stare at the brutally lethargic current. “Yeah, tell me about it. Dokyeom insists I go — he said he can’t because his wife won’t let him. Something about finding a rich girl there and leaving her. So I’m left with the option of going alone or going with Rowoon.”

Instead of seeing it from your perspective, Hani sees the glass half full. With a raised brow, she taps your shoulder in a joking manner. “You do realize what Rowoon looks like, right?”

In all honesty, you haven’t. With the hybrid workplace being the new thing, you can’t quite say you can identify all the workers in your office, especially when turning on your webcams is optional. “Um… not really. Seen him a couple times on Teams, but I think his camera was broken whenever we were on a call together.”

Hani is quick to pull her phone out of her back pocket; tapping in her passcode at the speed of light, you recall the last time you mentioned a guy you were seeing was found within seconds of her instantaneous instagram searches. “Internet stalking is a skill that can’t always be taught. You need to feel the vibes,” she said last time, and now she showcases the talent once again. Within mere seconds, she pulls up Rowoon’s Instagram account and shoves her phone in your face.

Oh. He is cute.

He’s got the sweet gentleman look to him; the gelled hair, soft smile, and most of the pictures on his feed consisted of him, food, or a pretty skyline behind his equally attractive silhouette. In one of the photos, you swear you almost heard a ding! sound at the sight of his pearly white teeth. Why does he look like a model for someone who works a corporate job?

“You’re going with him,” she states. “He’s hot. He’s sweet. Smart. Available,” Hani practically sings. “You’re single, too. Please don’t pass up on this opportunity because of some boy.”

You blink blankly in shock. “How–What makes you think I’m turning down Rowoon’s company because of a guy?”

“You got them dejected eyes. Those dejected eyes with hints of love in it. Almost like you got your heart broken or something. I’ll find him on Instagram later–first, we need to get you to go to that banquet with Rowoon.” 

Puffing up your cheeks, you pull out the bottle when the water nears the brim. Hani has good intentions but you don’t know if you should be appreciative or find it overbearing. Nonetheless, the one thing Hani doesn’t have in common with your other friends is that she doesn’t probe about Seungcheol–even if she already speculated what could’ve happened. Instead, she offers you another option that’ll keep your mind busy.

Maybe Rowoon would be a good distraction. It doesn’t hurt to have some eye candy, right? After all, where you stand with Seungcheol is a blur — he doesn’t want to see nor talk to you, and you haven’t given him a good reason to (in his terms, of course). But what’s the point then? Why do you have to try so hard to “win” him over when he insists on being the one who does it? It’s not like he believes you and your feelings anyway. How is it that suddenly the tables have turned? Either way, you’ll regret this decision to see Rowoon a lot less than agreeing to be Seungcheol’s fake girlfriend. 

You smooth out the wrinkles of your dress with the warmth of the palm of your hands in front of the full length mirror in your living room. This black slip with an open back is more provocative than you’d like, but after the dresses that had a broken zipper, grass stain (from what?), torn up hemline, and just simply didn’t fit, this was the best option and you weren’t allowed to turn back on the invitation now. 

Puffing up your cheeks, you grab your camel trench coat from your closet. Rowoon should be picking you up any minute now, and honestly, even though this isn’t really a date, he’s got you nervous with your heart racing in its beats.

But not in the same way as Seungcheol —

Wait, pause. Why’d you bring up Seungcheol?

Tonight is supposed to be everything but Seungcheol, and the fact you unconsciously brought him up only makes you seethe. 

Rowoon doesn’t have the aroma remnants from cigarettes; his cologne wafts underneath your nose, a blend of citrus and sandalwood, he’s the definition of a man, someone independent, emotionally intelligent, and overall full of kind and generosity. He opens the door for you when you exit the car, quickly shuffling out of the front seat just to do it. Rowoon doesn’t recklessly ride a motorcycle, no, instead, he drives a reliable car – granted, it’s BMW and the amount of times you heard Seungcheol shit talk that manu–

Wait, why are you thinking about Seungcheol again?

He haunts you, worse than the ghosts and demons do in the horror movies he’s too afraid to watch (but won’t admit it), and the fact that even when Rowoon is trying to hold a conversation with you and you’re still thinking about Seungcheol is unbelievable. If he doesn’t trust you and your feelings, then why are you even bothering to think about him the slightest?

“I heard you played a big role on this project,” he says, voice thick and sweet as honey. With a hand on the steering wheel, he doesn’t fail to glance over at you every now and then so you can see from his actions that you have the entirety of his attention. “It’s what got you that promotion, right? Congrats on that. They’re a huge client.”

You rub the side of your neck sheepishly. “Haha, yeah. I didn’t really expect it–but I guess all those nights staying in my cubicle with empty boxes of Chinese food instead of partying was worth it. Lost a couple dates, yeah, but at least I’m an independent woman in power!” Although it’s true, you meant it in a cheesy, joking manner.

But it feels more embarrassing than funny with your fist and arm up in the air after that corny comment.

Would it be you if you didn’t make yourself look stupid in front of a hot guy?

“Sorry–not even sure why I did that.” You are definitely mentally smacking yourself up the head. This never happened with Seungcheol before, why are you doing this in front of Rowoon! Is it because you actually see him as a potential candidate? Seungcheol was just a guy that hit on you from time-to-time and rented out your garage. Rowoon works in business development at your office with a charming smile that wins you both jobs and your heart.

Oh. Now you hear yourself.

Maybe that’s why Seungcheol doesn’t believe you.

But none of that matters now. He said it already. Choi Seungcheol doesn’t trust your so-called feelings for him and that’s that.

“It’s cute,” Rowoon chuckles, cheekbones prominent with his wide smile. “You always seemed intimidating at work. I’m glad you’re a lot more loose than that.”

You turn to look at him with a raised brow. “Do I… Do I seem intimidating?”

Rowoon tilts his head a bit, rolling his lips for a moment to gather his thoughts. Hesitant, afraid to offend you, he chooses his words carefully before speaking his mind. “A bit. The whole… isolated office, glass walls, and Dokyeom meeting to talk to you in your office despite his position on the hierarchy, you definitely seem important.”

“And important equates to intimidating?”

He admits to you that your demeanor has always been serious; the last exchange that you had with him (and truthfully, you didn’t even remember this), you accidentally bumped into him after heating up your pasta in the microwave without saying a word. To him, it wasn’t rude (it definitely was), but instead, it was “standing your ground.” You can’t help but laugh at his explanation–you’re a dick to him but he still tries to sweeten it up.

Maybe you should give Rowoon a shot. It’s not like he’s going to be your boyfriend just from a little flirting, right? It’ll be just for fun. Just for the night.

The house is humongous. Well, even the fucking word humongous is an understatement. 

Rowoon is equally in awe, stating something along the lines of, “this is a whole mansion,” but this place isn’t just a mansion either–that’s just a portion of the property. The land extends what feels like 3 acres, housing the mansion, a garage big enough to fit at least ten cars, a tennis court, a fountain in the middle of a garden, a guest house (imagine having two homes on one property), and even the living quarters for the staff (just kidding, make that three). The roundabout at the main entrance should’ve given it away (and the valets that grabbed the cars–apparently, they work at the residence full time. Who has valets full time?)

Rumor has it, they have an underground pool, a hot tub, and two home gyms. Two! Normal people don’t even have one.

Truly, you’ll never fully understand how people could even be this wealthy. To add onto that, you can’t even believe you got invited to be here to witness it all. Is this how Yubin lives? You’ve never been to her childhood home before, but just visiting her apartment alone left you in astonishment. Four of your apartment was enough to fit one floor in her penthouse.

“This is… kinda crazy,” you admit, passing your coat to the clerk. “I can’t imagine growing up here.”

“I went to a private school,” Rowoon says, grabbing the number slip from the employee. “There were quite a handful of students that attended and lived in mansions. It’s pretty much what you expect it to be.”

“What? House parties when the parents are away? Got so rowdy that the cops came.”

“It seems like a movie cliche, but it’s more real than you think.”

Maybe public school in a city suburb didn’t prepare you well enough for this.

You feel out of place here. Adjusting the sides of your dress, it makes you a little conscious of the fact that you got yours from a Target collection rather than a store on the Rue Faubourg Saint-Honoré strip that only sells luxury name brands or from a private appointment with a famous designer that requires a letter of recommendation or invitation just to have you written in their calendar for a fitting.

“Just play it chill,” Rowoon says, hand hovering your lower back to guide you inside. He could feel your nervousness, displaying that warming grin of his in hopes it brings some comfort. “I’m sure we don’t have to socialize that much. Just showing face and greeting Mr. Choi should be enough. He’d be happy we made the effort.”

Although you would much prefer ditching and going back home where being underneath a blanket on your couch while streaming a sitcom, advice from someone in the business development department at work would be the option you have to take if it meant developing good relations with the client for potential future clients. Mr. Choi owned one of the biggest software programs globally, which meant if you got on his good side, the possibilities for connections are endless.

You roll your lips. Maybe alcohol will give you a bit more of a confidence boost–you don’t do well in settings like these, especially since you know nobody else other than Rowoon, and even Rowoon himself, you don’t really know that well. 

As a server walks by with a tray of glasses filled with champagne at the perfect timing; snatching one up, Rowoon watches as you down it in one shot.

“Um, impressive. And you don’t have to burp?”

You press your hand against your chest. “Burns a little, but I’m holding it in out of respect.” With a soft chuckle, he shakes his head.

Okay, after the fourth glass of champagne, you’re a bit bold.

The third and fourth ones weren’t planned–initially, you figured that two would be good enough to get you a little buzzed, just enough to hold a conversation with Rowoon but also prepare you with the aftershocks of liquid courage that you desperately need for when you speak to Mr. Choi. It’s different approaching him outside of a conference room, especially in a formal event like this, you’re stepping outside of your comfort zone.

But you’re definitely comfortable after that last glass of champagne. 

Rowoon suddenly looks a lot more attractive underneath the lights.

You might have an ulterior motive tonight.

The event is set in the backyard, the stairs leading into the house being the main stage and the tables are scattered across the lawn with white tablecloths. There are a couple highboy tables for casual discussions over a drink, one you’ve been leaning on for the past half hour with your elbows pressed as close together as you can.

The thought itself didn’t present until about… well, half an hour ago. Rowoon has been nothing but a gentleman all night; laughing at your stupid jokes, never judging when you accidentally overshare (something you need to work on is shutting the fuck up when you’ve got a little alcohol in your system), and even managing to separate you from your work. People don’t usually do that – especially when they work with you.

There’s really no reason for you to not shoot your shot with Rowoon. He practically checks off all the boxes on your list of characteristics you want your future boyfriend to have: handsome, kind, stable job, a family person, and he’s even into woodworking! He sweetly offers to make a new set of chairs for you since you mentioned how you broke it that one night. That night with Seungcheol.

Fuck. Seungcheol.

You feel like this thing between Seungcheol is like that leg that cracked on the chair. The constant creaking each time you sat on it were like the red flags that you probably shouldn’t be with him, that it was time to part ways with both the chair and Seungcheol, and the nail that you managed to drill in to temporarily fix it wasn’t really a solution. Maybe you need a new chair–a new guy, really. That guy could be Rowoon.

But what’s embarrassing is that even though you’re here, at this extravagant place with a sultry dress, makeup and hair done, a strand twirling around your finger as you giggle at another one of Rowoon’s attempt to joke, you’re still fucking thinking about Choi Seungcheol. He doesn’t even check anything off that list of yours; he’s… well, yeah, he’s handsome, and… okay, he’s kind too–but he doesn’t have a stable– well, he gets frequent customers at your garage, you’ve seen a handful of people come by. The only thing you could hold against him was that he was sort of a family man… but… he also is? Very confusing.

You’ve never been with a guy who got punched over you. Or someone who complicates things by asking to be your fake boyfriend, or someone who acted so well at being your boyfriend that you almost believed it when he said he harbors these feelings for you when he evidently cares for the list of women he’s slept with.

Then again, those are claims that were made by Namjoon and Yubin, who clearly couldn’t be trusted.

It would be easier to start fresh with Rowoon, or any guy, really. There wouldn’t be this same hesitance that you have with Seungcheol – but the more you continue to think about it, no one… makes you go out of your comfort zone like Seungcheol does. Since when did you sleep with a guy the first night you meet him? And how do you continuously let him into your house, despite the fact that you absolutely hate company? Even Yubin isn’t allowed over. And when did you… cry like that, grow that concerned, and feel that rush of emotions that feared for the potential loss of a boy who isn’t even yours? 

Either way, your thoughts get interrupted when Mr. Choi takes the “stage,” microphone in hand as he clears his throat to quiet the crowd. He’s got on the typical black tuxedo and white dress shirt underneath (kinda matches the salt and pepper that is his hair) with his wife beside him that really takes the spotlight with her features. She smiles so brightly, a smile that feels familiar, with high cheekbones and long lashes that brushes against them. Her lavender gown is beautiful, but she is the mean beauty. Apparently, the couple had two sons–one that stands beside Mr. Choi, and the other… is late, but he seems to be making his way up the steps to be next to his mother. His silhouette seems familiar, but you pay no mind to it.

That is, until… he turns around.

You think you’re hallucinating–maybe you’ve had too much alcohol for the night and with all the things that went down with Seungcheol, it would be the reason why you think he’s in front of you. He’s been occupying your mind frequently, after all, so it’s a good explanation.

Right?

Right.

But you spoke too soon.

“I want to thank you all for attending our event,” his father begins, glasses glaring from the light. He doesn’t look like Seungcheol – in fact, Mr. Choi looks like his other son, which means Seungcheol took all his mother’s genes. “We’ve been working hard to improve our business, to keep food on our employees’ tables, and expand as a company in order to keep up with the industry. I’d like to thank our executive team…” Mr. Choi starts to name people that you didn’t know, but you clap along with the crowd, “... and our third party team that assisted us with the changes…” and when he mentions the name of your company, he gestures to you and Rowoon in the crowd before stating your name clearly.

And your eyes meet with Seungcheol.

You don’t know what you expect from him – will he be mad, upset, happy? The furrow of his brows only exhibit confusion, but beyond that, you don’t know how he feels.

When Mr. Choi finishes off his speech, you do your best to avoid Seungcheol. Attention all on Rowoon, you listen to him babble on about his recent woodworking project, but at this point, you’re tuning him out and just nodding. How unlucky are you that you of course would see Seungcheol here! At a fucking work event. With a guy you’re trying to hit on. A hot guy, a matter-of-fact, and the amount of times you have to remind yourself that Seungcheol made it clear that he needed space from you is only reassuring that pressing your chest together for Rowoon to get a better view of the girls is what you need to do to move forward.

“... and I found crotch lumber!” he exclaims, and you have no clue what the fuck he’s talking about but with how he flexes his arm in that tight shirt in excitement, you want to do his–

“Hey,” that voice greets, his hot breath against your shoulder. “Can we talk?”

“Sorry, do I know you?”

Seungcheol licks his teeth in annoyance. 

Admittingly, you were so shocked to see him earlier that you barely noticed him in his suit. Why… Why are the sleeves of his blazer so snug? Hair slicked back and even having shaved his five o’clock stache, he’s got his hands in the front pockets of his trousers, sucking in his cheeks in irritation. “Baby, don’t play. What are you doing here?”

Baby. How does he manage to make your heart clench with one word?

“I got invited here,” you turn your body to face him completely. You can only imagine what Rowoon thinks of the two of you, especially with the pet name that Seungcheol throws so casually. “Apparently, I’ve worked for your dad and didn’t even realize it.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw before gesturing at Rowoon with it. “And who’s he?”

“My date slash co-worker.”

Oh, he didn’t like that answer. “Come. Let’s talk.” Seungcheol places his hand on your arm, but seconds after, Rowoon has a grip on Seungcheol’s wrist. Their eyes lock, and you could feel the burning lasers that Seungcheol shoots–it feels like deja vu. 

“Who are you?”

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[violentvaleska]

𝑨𝒃𝒚𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔

sɪx ᵗⁱᵗᵃⁿ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ x ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs ᴡɪʟʟ ʙʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ? ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴʟʏ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ʙᴜᴛ sᴛɪʟʟ ʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ; ᴅᴇғᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴛɪᴛᴀɴ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇsᴛ ᴅᴇsɪʀᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ᴍɪʟɪᴛᴀʀʏ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs: ↫ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs ɴᴇxᴛ ↬

ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

ᴛᴀɢɢɪɴɢ: @ajmiila02 @xiernia

Year 850

If there was one thing you did not see coming, it was being a witness at Eren Yeager's trial, which will determine whether he lives or dies. You did not actually see him turn into one of those monsters, but your dreams clearly predicted the outcome years ago. How this is possible you don't know, but a personal letter from the Commander of the Survey Corps himself made it clear that your testimony in this case is needed to help Eren.

The trial starts in an hour, and you're currently waiting for Smith in front of a makeshift office, anxiously fidgeting with your fingers, a habit you've learned to adopt whenever you need to. It helps you clear bad thoughts from your already clouded mind. While you try to concentrate, you find yourself drifting off somewhere else, right into the world of your visions. Some of them have already come true, and others are just confusing you. The incident with Ile's notebook was the worst so far, the others are barely worth mentioning. Footsteps make you look up and when you see two figures, one smaller than the other, walking directly towards you, you stand up instantly and salute the men.

"Commander, Captain." You greet them, your body stiff and ready to follow their lead.

"Faye. At ease." Erwin smiles warmly and puts a hand on your shoulder, pointing to his office. The other, smaller man is Captain Levi, and you can't help but notice that he looks even more tired than the last time you saw him, which was about a year ago.

"Please, have a seat." The blonde offers, and you gladly accept, looking around with interest. The people in the inner districts must have a good life, considering how well furnished this small room is. Levi is more reserved than usual, simply keeping his arms crossed as he leans against the wall closest to the window, just behind Erwin's desk, and looks out at the farmers with disinterest.

"You look well, has the Trainee Corps treated you well, my dear?" The Commander asks, a charming smile on his attractive face. With that kind of charisma he could certainly influence his soldiers to the point of death, but you learned to be very careful with him, as he was with you.

"It was a challenge, but I managed." Short and simple, he'll be happy with that.

"Great. You're a smart young woman now. I'm sure you know why I asked you to attend Eren Yeager's trial." He's straight to the point, his smile slowly turning into a thin line.

"Yes, although I wonder how credible my testimony will be." You admit and meet the Captain's eyes, who quickly looks away, only letting out a soft sigh.

"Don't worry about it. I told Zackly about you and your talents months before the recent events. He's a bit sceptical, but he doesn't reject the idea that you're something special." You'd like throwing up, feeling the sickness overtake you.

"I'm not special." You spit a little hatefully and stare at him with a deep frown that would challenge Ymirs.

"But you are, don't you see?" You turn your attention to the Captain, frustrated by his words that seem to mock you. It would be strange to think that the great Captain Levi sees you as something special.

"No I can't Captain, why don't you enlighten me as to how I am special?" Your teasing encourages Erwin to roll his eyes as he leans back in his seat.

"Oh, I don't know, Cadet, maybe because you can fucking see death! What are you, a banshee?" He's angry at your myopic view of yourself, and clenches his hands into fists. You rise from your seat and glare at the Captain with hatred, trying to ignore the boiling rage in your gut.

Remembering the last time you saw him, you feel a sickening sensation in your stomach. While he treated you with violence, the two of you eventually bonded over your shared confusion about yourself. All that seems gone now, and you wonder what the dark-haired man might think of you. He was the one who brought you to the safety of the walls, the one who cared for you after a night's attack. But Captain Levi is also the one who suspected you of being a potential threat. The chaos of his actions and thoughts makes you feel absurd and different from him.

"Faye. Why don't you sit down? And Levi, please don't provoke her, it's unnecessary." Commander Erwin speaks up, clearly demanding a peaceful conversation in his working environment. You do as he says and let yourself fall back into the wooden chair, your eyes moving from Captain Levi to the Commander.

"I wasn't aware that you felt that way. I hope you understand that you are special from our point of view." His words catch your eye, and while you don't like the idea of being seen that way, you nod your head in silent agreement.

"Now that we have discussed this matter, I would like to talk to you about the trial. The heads of the other departments have been informed of your situation."

As you close your eyes, your current situation hits you. You'd been more comfortable with the fact that only the Survey Corps and a few other higher-ups knew about you. Within a few hours, everyone would know, even your fellow cadets. Would they hate you? Not trust you?

"You're the second case found outside the walls, if I were you I wouldn't mention it. Most of us didn't even know about Grisha Yeager anyway, I'm sure the others won't either". You agree, knowing it won't help your case at all.

"What if they don't trust or believe me, what if they want to execute me?" Her question lingers in the room, and it is quiet enough to hear a needle drop.

"Tch. They won't. Stop being stupid." Levi reassures you in his own way, though it should turn out that your concerns are eligible.

━━━━━━━༺ - ༻━━━━━━━

Whispers make their way through the crowd as Commander Erwin introduces you to the military, deeply suspicious looks hanging on you as you step forward, fingers trembling with nervousness.

"Cadet Faye Engel. Is it true that you predicted Eren Yeager's transformation into a Titan?" You jump at the harshness of Commander Nile Doks voice.

"I dreamed it." You neither confirm nor deny his accusation, hoping for a better outcome for both Eren and yourself.

"You documented all these dreams and sent monthly reports to Commander Smith. Did you write down every dream you had?" He asks, looking at you as if you were his prey.

"I did, the Commander told me to." You say simply, and get a strange feeling as the Commander smiles triumphantly and picks up something that one of his soldiers has given him. A diary, wrapped in a brown leather cover. Your eyes widen in recognition at the dream journal; your dream journal, to be exact. Someone must have broken into your quarters after you arrived this morning and left to have breakfast with Armin and Mikasa.

Before you can ask how he got hold of your personal belongings, he begins to speak in a loud and clear voice.

"This is Cadet Engel's dream journal. We configured it and noticed that she clearly left out some of her dreams." Erwin, who is standing right next to you, gives you an angry look, clearly displeased with you.

"What did she leave out?" Erwin asks, giving Nile a stern look. At the MP's next words, your face blushes a deep red.

"The death of fellow soldiers, how it looks outside the walls and sexual fantasies about your Captain and Section Commander." The room falls silent and you notice the man next to you stiffen. Captain Levi looks straight ahead, his bitter face barely showing any form of emotion.

"I could care less. And frankly, I don't see the need to humiliate a cadet in front of the entire court." You are surprised to see Erwin come to your defense, considering the way he looked at you just a few seconds ago.

"A witch!" The priest of the wall church shouts, pointing at you, completely ignoring the words of the scout commander.

"Don't you see? She has been summoned by the evil that created the Titans! Sent to lure us out with her pretty face." Your body tenses, you shrink under the eyes of all the men watching you.

"She will seduce the Captain and Section Commander. No doubt using them to stab us all in the back." You swallow, scowling at how ridiculous that sounds.

"Nice conspiracy theory you've got there." Levi simply comments, rolling his eyes at the madman of your opposite number. He seems to completely ignore the fact that you had dreamed of him in an unbecoming way.

"She needs to be hanged!" Clear accusations in all their glory. You stand next to Levi, who nudges you to the side, telling you to stand tall and proud.

"They'll tear you apart if you don't." He explains curtly, looking straight at Eren, whose body is crouched and tied to a pole in the middle of the cord room.

"I'm not a witch." You spit and look at the pastor with a rigid gleam in your eyes, making him shut up for a second, too stunned to speak.

"I'm from the Shiganshina district, I saw it fall and people being torn in half! How dare you accuse me of such nonsense when you were in the luxurious district of Mitras while my family died out there!" You raise your voice, lean over the railing and point at Eren.

"This boy has seen things you can't even dream of. And you all call for his death as if his life meant nothing. He is human too, damn it!" A hand on your shoulder makes you gasp, and you turn your head towards the black-haired Captain, who tries to calm you down, but only gives you a small nod. You have to take a deep breath, your hands clenched into fists as you stop yourself from saying more. It would be foolish to let your emotions get the better of you, especially because of the misconceptions these men have about women. If you speak your thoughts, you're hysterical, but if a man does, he's considered rational.

"Human?" Commander Nile Dok speaks up, picking up a piece of paper to read.

"Eren Yeager and Mikasa Ackerman were nine years old when they murdered three kidnappers." A crumble breaks through the courtroom and you notice Erwin's eyebrows turn into a deep frown, clear frustration written all over his face. You didn't know that Eren and Mikasa had to go through this at the age of nine, it must have been terrible.

"You all call it justified self-defense, but I can't help but be disturbed by the fundamental lack of humanity in their actions." You winced at that, baring your teeth at the Commander from a distance. You hate that man, he's only provoking the soldiers more than necessary.

After the trial you listen to Eren's defense and even smile a little when he calls the members of the military police "cowards". He's right, and after seeing their behavior today, you'll regret ever thinking of joining them. When one of the MP's points his rifle at Eren, your smile quickly fades. You barely notice Captain Levi leaving your side, only looking up in confusion when you see him walking at a fast pace in Eren's direction. Is he going to help him? Protect him? Raising an eyebrow, you look at Erwin, whose attention is focused on the Captain, a small glimmer of hope in your eyes. The moment you look back at Eren, a gasp escapes you as the captain lifts his leg and kicks the boy right in the face. A bloodied tooth flies out of Eren's mouth and lands on the floor, but the black-haired bastard doesn't stop there. He continues to kick and punch Yeager with no remorse, causing Mikasa to lose her temper. If Armin hadn't held her back and reassured her that she should just watch, you can be sure she would have jumped into action.

“You know personally, I think nothing instills discipline like pain. You don't need a good talking to. What you are in need of boy is to be taught a lesson.” Eren's breath is heavy and infrequent, the Captain's booted foot on his head keeps him from moving. You can't help but to notice that Captain Levi must have held back on you all this years ago.

“And you happen to be in perfect kicking position.” As he continues, you look away, finding the way he mistreats his subordinates is disgusting. Surely there must be a reasoning behind his cruel acts of violence.

“Hold on Levi.” Commander Dok demands, looking as shocked and scared as the others.

“What is it?” He moves away from Eren, glaring at the Commander with nothing but disdain for the man.

“It's dangerous. What if he gets angry and turns into a titan?” Nile tries to reason with the harsh man, not once taking his attention from the titan shifter in fear he might miss something. Instead of stopping, Levi kicks the poor boy once more, grabbing him by the hair. His face is swollen and blood trenches his skin, it's a horrible sight.

“Don't be silly. Afterall, you guys just wanted to dissect him, don't you.” Baffled you realize the reason behind his gruel beating. The Captain wants to prove a point. He makes a point at mentioning Eren's titan kill count during his transformed moment and him being an intelligent enemy. He also states to be able to take him down himself.

“How many of you can say the same? Before you torment the beast you'd better think. Can you actually kill him.” The obvious answer is no and seeing it written all over their faces truly makes you think how strong the Captain really is.

Erwin offers his proposition, offering to take Eren under Captain Levi's supervision and will take part in the next mission.

"What if he loses control?" Zackly, the general, asks with interest. So far he has been nothing but neutral and obedient, which you really appreciate. He even listened patiently to your testimony, though the way his old eyes lingered on you was unsettling. Levi shrugs his shoulders and offers to kill Eren if things go wrong.

With this promise, Zackly decides to leave Eren Yeager in the care of the Survey Corps, and while everyone believes this unexpected outcome to be the end, everything freezes in surprise as he gives another direct order.

"Cadet Faye Engel will be transferred to the Survey Corps immediately. If she can predict the future, I want her close to Yeager as an extra security measure." You certainly didn't expect this. A little worried you move closer to the Commander, hoping that he at least knew about this possible outcome, but he seems to be as baffled as you are.

"Gladly, General." Erwin speaks in a loud voice and before you know it he is pushing you out of the courtroom, not even giving you a chance to say goodbye to your friends.

"Commander, what..." the blonde ignores you and turns to his soldiers.

"Release Yeager and take him to Hanges' office. We'll meet there in five minutes." Erwin demands, his hand not even touching your shoulder as he continues to lead you forward, away from the courtyard.

"Get me Mike and Levi." You can tell he's stressed, maybe even a little exhilarated. He hadn't planned to have you under his command so soon, things would have to be rearranged now.

"Yes, sir!" The scouts drift off, running in two different directions. The tension is palpable as Erwin holds you in his tracks, moving you to his liking so that your body is facing him.

"You will be part of Mike's squad from now on. I may have to make some changes, but it's important that you stay close to Eren. Do you understand, Faye?" Nodding their heads, the two of them exchange glances and you could swear that a hint of mad fascination is growing in them.

"Don't gamble with your life. Yours may be of much more importance than we suspect at the moment." You raise an eyebrow, wondering why you of all people would be so careless with yourself, but his answer is cut short when Mike and Levi catch his attention. Only now do you notice their absurd height difference.

You look at Mike, a smile on your face as the man reaches out to take your hand. A small giggle escapes you as he takes it to his hand and plants a small kiss on the back of it.

"Cadet Engel. Is it possible that you've become even more beautiful over the years?" He wonders, his voice deep and calm as he grins at your deep red face. Feeling completely nervous and overwhelmed, you stammer your words, causing Levi to roll his eyes, looking like an angry hound compared to Mike.

"She's gotten older Mike, she's probably even legal now. Your attempt to flirt with a girl is sad." The Captain mumbles to himself, catching only a frustrated side-eye from the taller soldier.

"I've been legal for a long time and a woman, not a girl. I know for a fact that I'm 23." You sass back, relying only on your dreams for the truth of that statement.

"Are you sure? Your nasty fantasies don't sound very mature to me." Flinching, you pull your hand away from Mike's to confront Levi, but Erwin immediately de-escalates the situation.

"Now, now. We are in public. You can discuss your mutual disgust or adoration for each other later." The Commander demands, turning on his heel to walk past his commanding soldiers and cadet.

"Our focus is now on Eren and Faye, I have a change of plan I would like to discuss with you all. Considering that Zackly has given me a second ace, I want to keep them both close and well protected."

Erwin Smith is a good commander, perhaps even a respectable man, but you can tell there is a dark desire deep in his heart. Wants and needs he wants to fulfill, and you may be a part of it.

As you follow his lead, Mike bends down to your level and whispers something in your ear that sends a shiver down your spine. "I don't care what they say, little cadet. I am honored to be an object of desire in your dreams."

#fanfiction #levi ackerman #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #captain levi #oneshot #levi #mike zacharius x reader

[breezybangtanbebe]

God Damn : Changkyun❤️‍🔥

A/N: (i wrote this like over a year ago and never edited it🙃) Changkyun x reader (1st person), toxic breakup, drinking, angst, raw sex, rough sex. Emotional and smutty...I apologize in advance. 🌚

6.6k words

"I'm really worried about him."

"He hasn't been himself since you left..."

"He's so lost without you..."

"He's not responding to any of us and we can't find him..."

"Please Mira.....you're the only one who knows him like us..maybe even better than us. He'll talk to you."

That last text from Kihyun was the hardest one to ignore because it was true.

I did know Changkyun better than his friends and that was one of the reasons why I left him in the first place.

I was done with him and this fucking city, already packed and in a hotel until the day of my flight came. This place held too many memories for me to remain here after our separation some months ago and the wounds were too fresh to risk the temptation to go back.

It hurts but I can't keep living like this.

Neither can he.

I knew I would find him here though.

He was such a creature of habit that it annoyed me that his friends wouldn't think to look here first.

It never fails.

He was always so easy to predict and sometimes I wish he'd prove me wrong.

Just once.

Maybe this is a setup.

Hmm...

The smoke was thick and blinding in the crowded basement and the bass shook the walls as I descended from the final step. The rain and thunder outside were drowned out immediately by the music and I have to squint my eyes to see through the haze as I stepped through it.

It was a typical Saturday night and the mutual acquaintance and owner of the house was hosting one of his usual boozed-up functions that I admittedly used to look forward to. But we all have to grow up sometime.

I moved through the swaying crowd of people too drunk and high to care about making way for the angry curly-headed brunette searching the crowd. All of them were lost in the rhythm of the music.

And whatever else they were on...

I hoped he would be among the many in the small sea of stoners. Make my life easy just once would you, Im Changkyun.

Fucking pain in my ass.

Eventually, I made my way to the furthest corner of the party which was illuminated by beaming red LEDs. Several booths lined the back wall where a single light bulb glowed above each table. All of them were littered with paraphernalia, hookahs, empty liquor bottles, and ashtrays filled to the brim with roaches (not the bugs) and cigarette butts. The stink of smoke was even more potent here since it was the source and it burned my eyes the closer I got.

That's when I saw him.

I know it was him immediately by the sway of his long unkept hair hanging in his face. His black leather jacket is draped behind him and the bulge of his tattooed bicep flexes beneath his loose white v-neck tee. He sat with his head down, his elbows resting on the table and his hands running through his hair.

He's alone. Thankfully. Or else this would have been thrice as awkward. It was at that moment that I questioned my intentions as I lingered a few feet away.

Why am I here?

I should just call one of his friends and tell them he's here.

Jooheon would be happy to pull up with Hosoek more than likely to take over.

Kihyun would march straight up to him and yank him up by his collar.

Minhyuk would most likely do something similar after cussing him out for worrying everyone.

Hyunwoo would sit and talk some sense into him, convince him to pull himself out of this ditch he'd buried himself in.

Hyungwon would drink with him for a little before convincing him to quit and go home.

They were his friends. They should be the ones to handle him in his ruins. Not me.

I should just call one of them.

I should walk away now.

I should...

I'm about to step back into the darkness of the dance floor but suddenly go stiff when Changkyun lifts his head and for the first time in what feels like forever I see his face.

He seems thinner, his jawline sharper than I remember, and there is a red smudge staining the corning of his bottom lip. That's when I noticed the redness on his knuckles.

The scrapes, bruises, and scars.

What had he done to himself after we went our separate ways? Drinking himself into a stooper aside. What demons had he been battling that I couldn't bear witnessing any longer?

Without thinking about it anymore, I approached him with a fast beating and heavy heart. I'm gonna get him out of here and be done.

For good.

I stand beside where he's seated and wait for him to notice me, hoping he isn't too far gone in the glass of what I presumed to be some form of cognac with no ice.

It only takes a few seconds for Changkyun to lift his head to look up at me with blank eyes. It's as if I was just some random girl blocking the light. But after a few seconds of exaggeratedly slow blinking, his expression changes from indifference to annoyance.

"Amira?" I catch on his lips. Changkyun looks me up and down, studying me in my jeans and coat before lazily locking eyes with me again.

"I'm here to take you home." I raise my voice and the look of irony on my ex's face gives me pause.

"Home...." He slurs with a tsk as he drags his eyes back down to the swirling liquor in his glass.

I furrow my brow at him but choose to dismiss the look of disgust on his face.

"Get up," I say with more urgency, not even bothering to raise my voice. Changkyun scoffs lightly before picking up the short-cut glass set before him on the table.

My face hardened as he ignored me to take a sip of the amber substance, his Adams Apple bobbing as he swallowed.

"I am home so.......Fuck off...." He mumbles, gesturing towards the glass as he sucks in another sip.

He was so stubborn when was drunk.

Definitely NOT going to miss that.

Losing my patience, I reach for the glass before he can take another sip and Changkyun's lightning reflexes seem well intact judging by how quickly he moved the cup from my reach. But in the process, he also underestimates the strength of his grip and the small glass shatters in his grasp.

Broken shards fall over the tabletop, spilling the alcohol all over its surface. No one around reacts to the scene though, leaving only me to witness the frustration in Changkyun's expression.

"God dammit..." I hear him huff and my eyes go wide at the steady stream of blood tricking from his palm. He doesn't seem to notice it though and is staggering to his feet like a drone. I already knew what he was after, a drink to replace that one and I wasn't having it.

"No," I say as I grabbed him by the wrist. Changkyun looks down at my hand then at me and scoffs.

"What are you doing?" He furrows his brow with an arrogant smirk.

"You can barely walk. No more drinking. Let's go." I yell over the music.

"Go home, Mira..."

"I'm not leaving here without you!"

"For fucks sake..."

Changkyun drunkenly scoffs at me again before snatching out of my grasp. I quickly grab his other and it turns into an obnoxious game of snatch and grab on the dance floor.

If I weren't so annoyed and pissed, I would be embarrassed at how childish we must have looked. Standing there playing tug of war with each other. Of course, I was no match for Changkyun's strength but I was sober. This meant my reaction time reflexes and persistence were bound to have him relenting to my will eventually.

It took some convincing and a bit of manhandling on my end to get Changkyun to leave the basement. Thankfully, there seems to be a break in the storm and I glance up at the sky with relief.

At least we wouldn't have to walk in the rain on top of me dragging this drunk ass.

My mood plummets once we reach the sidewalk. Because the moment we're outside and the humid air hits him, I flinch at how Changkyun suddenly moves out of my reach to double over a random trash can.

Ugh.

I rolled my eyes even harder as he wretched into the metal bin, resisting the urge to go to him. To rub his back and stroke his hair. To comfort him through the inevitable.

I don't though.

That wasn't my job anymore.

We stumble up the sidewalk for a few blocks until we reach his apartment building and I get him inside using the code I'd memorized from frequent use over the years. It was now pouring again and we were drenched by the time we stepped inside the building's lobby.

I get him inside and shiver at the chilling temperature from the doorway. As if being soaked to the bone with rainwater wasn't enough. It seemed as though just to vex me, my thoughtless drunk of an ex kept his heat off all day.

"Ugh..." I exhale again. Standing here cussing him in my mind wouldn't get us warm so with me supporting most of his weight, we enter.

A trail of wet shoes and outerwear lay abandoned by the front door and the hum of the heat filling the old vents of his apartment swirl around us as I sat in the living room.

I kept his lights dim and left the TV off as I listened to the rain pattering against the windows.

Changkyun snored softly in the spot I allowed him to plop down on the couch and he'd fallen asleep immediately, his hair and shirt still damp, leaving me on the armchair opposite of him.

There Amira. The job was done.

You can leave now.

Leave him and all of this torment behind you.

I said that to myself as I rose to my feet. Changkyun remained still and sleeping with his face mushed against the cushion, his wet hair fanned out over his head.

Why did he have to be so cute AND such a disaster all at once?

Lightning strikes, spooking me to sit back down on the indented sofa. Then another chill ran over my body despite the warming air, reminding me of the weather I'd be facing again once I stepped outside.

An Uber or cab would cost a bit.

And the metro station was too far to walk to in the rain.

Perhaps I should have thought this through, instead of allowing Kihyun's worrisome ass to convince me to do this.

"Dammit.." I sigh, ultimately deciding it would be best to stay put. Hopefully, Changkyun remained asleep by the time the storm let up enough for me to sneak out of there.

So I stayed, reluctantly, and leaned my head back against the cushion of the sofa.

Between the thunder, the buzzing hum of the heating system in his apartment, and the soft sound of Changkyun's muffled snoring, it wasn't long before my eyes began to roll back sleepily.

"Hey...."

I flinch and my eyes pop open to find Changkyun standing before me in the living room, shirtless with his wild mane sitting messily atop his head.

It looked as if he'd awakened some time ago and taken a shower since he's in different clothes and the clean scent of his shampooed hair is detectable from his proximity.

I gulp as my eyes travel down his body of their own volition but blink away any inappropriate ideas before they can form. I lift my gaze to find him staring at me with the same dark interest.

"You're still here..." he states calmly as I sit up in the seat and he regards me just as soft as his voice as I glance around the room with mild confusion.

It was still dark outside but the storm had eased up significantly.

Damn...

How long was I asleep?

His eyes seemed more sober than they were before he passed out and I looked up at him speculatively.

That's a relief.

"Um...yeah. Must have dozed off.." I mutter, grimacing as I shake the sleepiness away.

Changkyun makes a noise that could have either been a scoff or a snort of humor.

"Yeah. Me too.." he chuckles, but his smile doesn't touch his eyes as it trailed off.

I can't imagine the headache he must have right now.

At his pause, I take it upon myself to continue.

"I stuck around hoping that the storm would let up a bit and dry off. I wasn't trying to..."

"Naw it's cool. You don't have to explain...Shit, to be honest...I don't even remember how I got home. Glad you had something to do with that and not some random..." he chuckles shamelessly and although I know he saying it in a joking manner, I know he is serious.

There's no telling how many women he's brought back here after getting shitfaced.

The thought makes my stomach turn.

"Yeah well...Since you're awake, I should probably get going..." I concede amid his nervous chuckling, preparing to stand and Changkyun immediately lifts his hands to stop me.

"What? No...I mean... it's still raining and it's late. People drive like dick heads over here when it's wet..." he says, his choice of words always colorful.

"It's fine...I didn't drive. I took the train." I said truthfully.

Changkyun frowns at my response.

"You took the train? What happened to your car?" He asks and I go tense.

Oh boy.

"I.......sold it," I answer him, tucking my lips between my teeth as I wait for him to digest the answer.

The two of us hadn't spoken in a while which meant I hadn't made him aware of me moving away, let alone me selling the car he'd spent countless hours working on for free.

Other than it being in my name and me being financially responsible for it, Changkyun put just as many miles and effort into it as if it were his.

"You sold your car..." he deadpans and I nod affirmatively.

Bravely.

Awkwardly.

"Yep. For a really good price to a guy I knew from uptown. I.... can't afford to take it with me so.."

"Oh right! Because you're moving out of the city." Changkyun interrupts me.

The sluggishness in his voice was no longer present, telling me he was for sure sober. But that same hint of disdain and disgust presented itself as he spoke. I open my mouth to respond but he cuts me off.

"Yeah....I know. Kinda saw it on Instagram. The whole "going away party" threads on your friend's stories gave me the clue. Sucks that I couldn't hear the news from you but...ya know." he shrugs sullenly.

I stand there quietly for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"Yeah." is all I can muster and Changkyun scoffs.

"Yeah.." he chuckles breathily, turning away from me as he runs a hand through his hair. I watched him begin to pace slowly, rubbing at the back of his neck and flaunting his bare upper body to the neon glow of the street lights just beyond his apartment window.

"I get it though. Of course you sold it. I mean...why not? You could always just get a replacement. Since that's your way of doing shit anyway. Commit to something, get it all fixed up, and just...walk away from it." He turns on his heel to throw in before turning his back to me again.

His statement stuns me and I'm left speechless as he continues away from me.

I watch his back and the shadows cast against his muscles from the dimness as he walks over to his array of liquor bottles lined up against the back wall of the kitchen counters. He reaches for a half-empty Hennesy, twisting the cap and tipping it back for a hefty sip that's swallowed down like water.

I furrow my brow at the way his shoulders sag in relief as he turns to me.

"You could have told me, you know? Thought we were better than that," he remarks stiffly before he lifts the bottle back to his lips, gazing over its body at me as he takes another sip.

His eyes are expectant and I just stare back, too tired to indulge him.

I sigh heavily and begin patting my pockets to make sure my phone and wallet are still there before spotting my keys on his coffee table.

"The only reason I'm here was because Kihyun reached out." I snatch them up and they jingle loudly as I step around the table. Changkyun frowns at the sound of his friend's name on my lips and narrows his eyes.

"Why the fuck would he hit you up?" he asks and I snort at the bitterness of his question.

"I asked myself the same thing. But he figured I was his last resort in getting in contact with you, seeing as how you've been avoiding everyone and missing work. Believe me, though, I'm starting to wish he hadn't..." I respond honestly breezing past Changkyun in the direction of his guest bathroom.

The only reason I'm able to move so comfortably around his apartment was that Id damn near made it my second home in the duration of our tumultuous relationship.

I wouldn't be surprised if I still had a toothbrush or a box of tampons here.

I flip the light switch, not at all surprised to find Changkyun following close behind and my disheveled reflection staring back at me in the mirror. My curls had dried only a little and my makeup was smudged a tad but not ruined.

"Right..because I'm not your problem anymore." He chuffs, taking another sip and I roll my eyes at his antics as I try to tend to my appearance. I run my fingers through my hair roughly before snatching a paper towel off the roll, dampening it before wiping just below my eyeline.

"You were never my problem Changkyun. The only one here with problems was you." I mutter distractedly, frowning at how difficult it was to wipe away my mascara. My response seems to amuse him and an ironic smirk crosses his face as he leans against the doorway.

"And I'm guessing that's why you left? Me and my problems? Just me though, right? Since you're so perfect..." he asks with a cheeky tone and I hiss irritably as I abruptly turn to face him.

"What choice did I have? What choice did you give me? All we do is fight. It's not healthy for either of us and I'm exhausted. YOU are exhausting. I never claimed to be perfect but you..." I go on and Changkyun nods cynically as I speak.

"Yeah...c'mon. Lay it on me. Tell me how horrible I am despite all the shit I've done for you...I'm the fucking worst right?" He chortles and I can't help but laugh.

"Like I haven't done shit for you! Don't act like that negates the fact that you can't change or that...I don't know...We just aren't compatible anymore. That we've grown apart..."

"I'm not changing for somebody who doesn't know what the fuck they want. Ok?" Changkyun cuts in, jutting his forefingers into his sternum emphatically.

"You're impossible to satisfy Mira! You want me to be someone that I'm not. At least not yet...You put pressure on me to do shit how you want and when I fall short, I'm the bad guy. I never cheated on you. Never put my hands on you..."

"Gee, thanks for the bare minimum of common decency Kyun. I appreciate it." I mumble amid his rambling...

"..when you suggested seeing a shrink, I was open to it.." he continues.

"But did you go?" I tack on and he rolls his eyes.

"That's not the point. You gotta give me time. This shit here? Talking about my feelings...this is new territory for me. You never cut me any slack. You just criticize and jet like you're doing now.."

"Because I'm tired of cutting you slack. I'm tired of waiting...I wanted us to evolve and be better together. I wanted us to live together officially and live healthier and get married and..." I trail off, the words clogging my throat as the heartbreak of feeling rejected by him swell.

For a while, we were fine.

But eventually, I wanted more than what he was willing to give. And he tried to appease me and distract me from the fact that our relationship had hit a plateau.

It took us having a pregnancy scare for me to really see how unprepared he was for us moving forward.

"...but you've made it explicitly clear that that's not what you want." I nearly choke on the sob threatening to break through.

We'd been through this too many times and rehashing it was the last thing I wanted. Changkyun blinked a few times as if he needed to gauge my demeanor before responding.

Then he looked away painfully, grimacing a bit as he rubbed at the back of his neck with a troubled sigh.

"I know...I'm just..not ready.." he mutters, his eyes now on the floor. His jaw tightened and shifted as he contemplated something and I remained in front of the bathroom sink patiently. 

The silence between us was deafening and the longer I gazed at him and his conflicted state, the stronger my urge to cry became.

I love this man.

So much that it hurts to even say it.

Changkyun lifts his head suddenly at the sound of me sniffling and I curse myself for letting a tear escape.

I turn my back to wipe it away with a shaky huff.

"I know. And I'm not waiting for you to be. I can't. I'm just done." I shake my head, avoiding the searing look in his eyes I knew he was giving me.

I sniffle again, scanning his bathroom for the tiny waste bin to discard the charcoal-streaked paper towel and Changkyun stands unmoved in the doorway as I brush past him.

Before I'm clear of him, I feel his hand gripping me by the wrist.

I pause, anticipating the inevitable. Another condescending remark to get a rise out of me, provoking me to engage in more back and forth. Feeding his selfish need to drain me until I was as empty as he felt.

But to my surprise, he says nothing.

At his silence, I turn to find him staring at our now intertwined fingers sadly.

His brow creased painfully and the muscles in his jaw tensed as he bit back the urge to cry, the urge that glistened in his hooded eyes.

"You can't be angry at me for not wanting what you want when you want it," he repeats and I roll my eyes, pulling my hand from his with little effort. He doesn't try to stop me from withdrawing despite us moving like magnets. He drags behind me to the living room mindlessly.

"I'm not doing this...." I mutter as I scan the room as if I'd forgotten something.

"You're here, so you are. We..are doing this." He grits, his tone making me turn on my heel to face him with the full intention to cuss and give him exactly what he wanted.

But the way he glares into me with broken eyes and his sullen shoulders, I'm rendered silent.

"We could have worked this out but instead you did what you always do when shit gets tough. Run away.." he closes the distance between us tentatively, his voice shaking as he spoke.

I shake my head at the conviction in his voice, knowing we were at an impasse.

"Right.." I chuckle before wiping my eyes one more time. I lift them to match his glare intensely.

"And you go and do what you always do when you can't take accountability for shit. Go and find solace at the bottom of a liquor bottle until you're painting the floor with it."

I know the words a daggers to him when he narrows his eyes.

"And you're such a saint." Changkyun tuts his brow arrogantly at me.

Yes. There was a time when getting black-out drunk and high was considered a good time. And those horrible habits were the reason Changkyun and I bonded. Mutual interests evolved as did our relationship and loving him made being under the influence less necessary.

"Well, it's a good thing we ended things right? Since we're so different..." I shrug and Changkyun scoffs, looking away with his tongue sticking through the skin of his cheek. When he looks back, it's with a look that always used to make my core tighten.

"I didn't end shit." he insists, narrowing his eyes at him darkly.

"I know."

"Exactly. So stop acting like I wronged you in all of this. Stop acting like I'm the one who broke your heart, Mira."

The tears were flowing freely by now and I neither had the will or strength to resist them anymore. Eyes rimmed red and shining, I let out a laugh that morphs into a muffled sob.

"I had to. Don't you understand? For the sake of my sanity, I had to walk away because I was not going to sit back and watch you destroy yourself. To watch us destroy each other. I loved you too much to continue this. I tried but I just couldn't. I had to be done."

"What if I'm not?"

"Kyun..."

"I don't wanna be done."

He stares at me blankly for a moment, his eyes reading the way I avoided his with a melancholy smirk.

Suddenly Im inhaling the malted mix of cognac and mint as he grabbed me at the back of my neck, pulling me forward so that he could rest his forehead against mine.

His eyes bore into mine, dark as obsidian and just as hard. The tip of his nose brushes mine and he tilts his head so his words are painted against my lips in an exalted exhale.

"And neither do you.." he mouths, our parted lips sharing a desperate breath for a moment before one of us gives in.

And it's him.

It's always him.

The darkness in his eyes was sinful when he pulled away and I'm ashamed to have been the one chasing his lips a little when he did.

His presence was more intoxicating than any liquor I ever consumed.

The way neon lights from beyond the window blinked against the side of his face, highlighting his chiseled features as he walked me back until I was pressed flat against the wall of his living room.

"Kyunnie?" I stammer as he pressed against me, pinning me to the concrete grey-painted wall, kneading my nape as he tipped his head back just enough to see my face.

His eyes danced with mine for a moment, both of us hesitating and searching for something in the other.

"You hate me, don't you?" He asks.

"I never said that..." I attempt to respond but he shakes his head.

"You never had to..." he cuts me off, his eyes falling to my lips. Without a shred of hesitation, he leans in and kisses me again.

Harder.

More fervently.

Hennessy and desperation lingered on his tongue but he didn't kiss me as if on a drunken impulse. He kissed me as if his life depended on it. Sloppy and frantic. Our teeth clashed at moments as our tongues fought and our voices melded into a melody of muffled moans.

What the hell was happening...

A few minutes ago I was ready to walk away from this part of my life. Ready to end this chapter and close the door on the man who knew better but wouldn't do or be better.

Toxic wasn't even the word.

His mouth parts from mine and he trails sloppy desperate pecks down from my lips to my neck.

My weakness.

The moment his lips grazed my skin, chills ran over my entire body, and Changkyun wasted no time in taking my flesh between his teeth. His hard body felt hot against mine and I wasn't sure if it was his heartbeat I felt through my clothes or my own. But what I did know was that I needed him.

In more than just a physical sense.

I needed him all over me.

On top of me.

Inside me.

His tongue swipes over the series of love bites he placed on my skin and I moan his name needingly. I feel him smile against me and chuckle softly before sucking a mark over my pulse.

He knew he had me the moment he sunk his teeth into my skin. Im putty in his hands and anything he desired was his as long as he was willing to fulfill mine.

Seconds later, we're falling back against his couch with me straddling his waist and him ripping my clothes off. It was not long before Im naked and gazing down at the length of Changkyun's dick standing up in his grasp.

He bites his lip, dragging his hooded gaze up my body as if he'd never seen it before.

Or as if he believed he'd never see it again.

He squeezed my hip with his other hand, encouraging me to grind my hips against him a few times before rising to my knees.

Wordlessly, he guides me down to sink into me slowly. A slow hiss blows between his teeth before his jaw goes slack and my eyes flutter shut in ecstasy at the slight sting.

It felt like forever since I'd had him inside me but it couldn't have been long enough for me to forget how he stretched me. I moan shamelessly with my head thrown back, my waist already whining against him and Changkyun reaches up to tangle his fingers with the hair at my nape.

He pulls me forward, forcing me to look at him as he buries himself as deep as I'll allow him.

"Fuck me baby...fuck me like you fucking hate me.." Changkyun demands, the growl in his deep raspy voice driving me wild with emotion and lust.

I obey immediately, placing my hands on the back of the couch for better support. I slowly roll my hips back and forth to find my rhythm, using my lower body strength to bounce on him. Every movement pushes him deeper and I soon lose myself completely in how good he felt.

Like he was made for me.

My moans soon drowned out the sound of our skin slapping together, the wetness and stimulation pushing me closer to climax.

It never took long for Changkyun to make me cum. He knew my body that well and at times I resented it. He was arrogant with the power he held and it's shown in the amusement written all over his face right now.

His brow is perked and his eyes are fixed on my face, relishing in the painfully pleasured expression of my impending orgasm as he bucked his hips to drive himself exactly where I needed him.

When my legs begin to shake, he smiles and fucks into me faster until a rush of release spurts out and around his dick. My warmth and wetness surrounded him like a waterfall, and he fought against the current effortlessly as I cried out.

"Oh my god.." I drawl out and Changkyun silences anything else I might have said by pulling me in by the neck to kiss him sloppily.

He hugs me against him, holding me in place as his hips continue to roll upwards and stroking me slowly as we kiss.

"I changed my mind..." I mutter against his lips and he hums questioningly.

"I do hate you..." I finish, his only response being a cruel chuckle that makes my walls clench around him.

"Fuck, Mira..." he whispers, taking my bottom lip between his teeth. I pull back slowly, allowing the flesh to stretch before he releases it with reluctance.

I attempt to untangle myself from him but his embrace only tightens with resistance.

Before I can question him, Changkyun grunts as he stands with his arms hooked beneath my legs. My eyes widen in surprise to find his hardened gaze fixated on where were still connected, biting his lip and bouncing my body against his dick.

This angle was even more torturous as it not forced him deeper, but the constant feel of me pounding against him had my clit throbbing from the friction. Not to mention the fact that he held me up and fucked me like this for a while, reminding me of how strong he was physically.

I almost feel like I can't breathe and my voice is hoarse from moaning. I most likely came again. Or a few times. I wouldn't be able to tell. I can barely see since tears still blurred my vision from before and I had no choice but to be at the mercy of my ex and his determination to prove a point.

Though, I had no idea or care of what it was.

"You hate me? Hmm...you hate me?" He grunted in time with his hard strokes, still holding me up in his arms.

I mumble his name endlessly and amidst a string of breathy moans.

I do hate him.

Hate him for ruining all men for me after this.

Hate him for always fucking me..making love to me..like his life depended on it.

Hate him for branding himself on my damaged soul so that every time I closed my eyes, my heart projected his face against the blank walls of my mind.

Hate him for giving me no choice other than to love him.

Fuck, I love him.

Changkyun pauses to step briskly with me still in his hold, nudging his already open bedroom door away for us to enter.

A chill ran over my skin as he stepped deeper into his room. The scent of his cologne and bed sheets trigger memories I fought to forget and I gasp when the softness of his them grace my back.

He doesn't waste another second.

He spreads me wide, keen eyes on where his dick still split me and a thick stream of saliva drips from his tongue and onto the point where we met.

As if it was needed.

I just think he got harder at the idea of stuffing me with as much of his DNA as he could.

And I hate to admit how hot it was.

"Kyun.." I sigh and his eyes snap up to my begging eyes as he sinks into me.

His hips rock my body higher on the mattress and his solid arms cage me against his chest as he fucked me.

Slowly.

Purposefully.

It wasn't hurried and frantic like before.

He curled into me and stroked my warm velvety walls with a gentleness I'd missed from him.

He savored me.

On his lips. On his tongue. In my sex.

Changkyun made love to me like a man stroking against a current, fighting his way to shore.

He fucked me as if it pained him not to.

I felt his lips kissing the shell of my ear as he whispered my name.

Over and over.

I can tell he's unraveling and that the moment is limited.

I held him against me, my nails scraping over his back as he rocked into me faster and harder, making me gasp.

I needed him.

Maybe not beyond this moment or these four walls.

But I needed him now in any way I could.

He'd barely pulled out in time before he spurts himself all over the face of my pussy, hiccuping my name against my throat as he came.

He strokes himself slowly, squeezing the final few drops of cum over my pink folds before pressing his dick back inside of me.

He's still rock hard and my slicked walls welcome him in with zero resistance.

I brace my hands against his hard biceps as he sank deeper inside of me to the hilt, the tip of him pressing as far as it would go. He flexes his hips and pushes himself impossibly deep.

So deep that I can feel our pulses throbbing between us.

So deep that it was as if he was yearning to touch a part of me that he never felt. A part of me that would be our saving grace and keep the withering connection between us alive.

But all I felt was pain.

Sweet.

Somber.

Sobering.

Pain.

"Changkyun...." I whimper beneath him and he eases back an inch with a heavy sigh as he lays his full weight over me.

He rests his face in the crook of my neck and I feel his warm touch caressing my face. His thumb swipes over the apple of my cheek, sweeping over the trail of tears that still flowed from my eyes.

For a while we just lay there, leveling our labored breaths and staring into the sepia tone of his darkened apartment bedroom. I feel myself drifting asleep until the deep vibrations of Changkyun's tired voice pull me back up.

"Hmm?" I rasp and he sniffs and swallows the hard lump of emotion in his throat, hugging our naked bodies tighter together.

"I don't blame you...for hating me." He says shakily, sniffling again. If it weren't for his grip on me and my fatigue, I would have pushed him away just enough for me to see his face.

I furrow my brow and contemplate what I could say to him in response. Just to ease the pain in his voice a touch because I did love him that much.

But...

"I hate me too..." he adds on, squeezing me again.

Changkyun turns his face so that that his nose brushes against my nape and his shuddering breath against my skin makes me shiver.

He cries there for a moment and the weakened tone of his light sobs pull me down into the abyss with him. I say nothing though. Knowing anything I could say would either sound patronizing or enabling.

Or a like a lie.

And I just couldn't do it anymore.

But God Dammit if it didn't hurt.

"I'm sorry." He whipsers after his silence sets a pause in his tears. The words sound painful for him to say and for some reason, my heart ached.

This changed nothing. He was still who he was and so was I. As much as we loved each other, it would never be enough.

"Me too. " Is all I can manage to say and I tangle my fingers in the sweat-damp hair at his nape, stroking his scalp with my fingertips soothingly as we both lay motionless.

Still connected in the only way we could be.

🥵

#monsta x smut #changkyun #changkyun smut #jooheon #wonho #hyungwon #minhyuk #kihyun #hyunwoo #shownu #monsta x #monsta x fanfic #monsta x imagines #monsta x changkyun

[goghtomars]

Family

🌻 Author Note - Timeline may be slightly incorrect, I couldn’t figure out a way to make it entirely match with the CM plot but it is close. Also, I made up a best friend’s name.

💥Warnings: angstyyyyy. Drinking. Pregnancy mentioned. Prison mentioned. Cussing.

You really didn’t think the wine would hit you this hard. A year ago, you could’ve drowned out your sorrows with a bottle of red and still been able to walk in a straight line. But now, now you're drunk, and only two glasses in.

“God, y/n, pregnancy made you a lightweight!” your best friend Elise jokes, watching you as you start to stumble in your kitchen.

“Shut up, I'm fine, I tripped on Athena’s pacifier” you lie, refusing to believe you’re any different after having your baby girl. You grab some water for yourself, moving back to your spot on the couch next to Elise.

“Uh huh, sure. Y’know it was all your idea to start drinkingI just wanted to see you and Athena” Elise tells you, giving you a look that says “I know you’re hiding something.”

You take a deep breath before exposing your concerns to her, asking

“How do you tell someone who doesn’t want to hear from you that you had their baby and really miss them even though you shouldn't?”

Elise sighs, concern taking over her face. “You’ve been thinking about telling him again?” she pries, trying to get more information.

“He deserves to know! It's his daughter, I - I can’t keep that from him. I know he left, but he had his reasons..”

“No! You cannot keep defending him, Y/n! He left you and he didn’t have to, end of story” Elise argues, making your heart pang.

“He was trying to protect me! He didn’t know I was pregnant!” you defend, not ready to give up on your love.

“He left you a voicemail, y/n. A voicemail saying that he couldn’t be with you anymore because he didn’t want to put you at risk. That's bullshit! That’s not his decision!” Elise raises her voice, tired of you defending the man who left you behind.

“You’re right. He messed up. It wasn’t up to him to decide if I could handle the risk. But Athena deserves to have a father, and the longer I wait, the worse it will be. And Athena is already two months old, she’s growing so fast, and he’s missing all of it” you explain.

“So what do you want to do? Just show up at his door with Athena? What if he is angry, what if he hurts you again, y/n?” Elise asks, worried for her best friend's already broken heart.

“I don’t know, I was gonna write a letter, is that stupid?” you ask, unsure of it all.

“I don’t think it's stupid. And you’re right, Athena deserves at least the chance of having her father in her life. If you think that a letter is the best way for you to tell him, then do it” Elise tells you, and you nod. You’re still drunk, which is probably the only reason you actually went through with writing the letter, but you’re thinking clearly enough to start putting words onto paper.

“Spencer,

I know it’s been a while. Nine months to be exact. I know you think it's best if I'm not a part of your life, but I need you to hear me out. The day you left me that voicemail, I didn’t pick up because I was in the bathroom throwing up. About a week later, I found out I was pregnant. By then it was too late, you were gone, and I was too hurt to call you up and force you back into my life. I stubbornly thought that I would be enough for our baby, a capable single parent. Maybe I am, I don’t know. I’m doing the best I can. She turned two months old a week ago, and she’s starting to look just like you. She’s beautiful, Spence. I wanted to be angry enough to keep you out of her life. But I can’t. She deserves to have a father, to have two parents who absolutely adore her. I don’t expect you to come running back to me. In fact, this letter really isn’t about my feelings at all. It’s about her. If you want to be a part of her life, and I mean it Spencer, a real part of her life not some fleeting presence, then you know where to find me. If not, well, I guess nothing really changes.

- Y/n”

It took you about an hour to write the letter, with all the times you had to restart on a new piece of paper because you had written the wrong thing or your tears smeared the ink. But it was done, sealed in a white envelope that you labeled with Spencer's name and address.

The next morning, you drop it off in the outgoing mail slot, and wait.

~~~~~~~~~

Spencer puts his key in the door and pushes, relief filling his body as he enters his apartment for the first time after being gone for so long. He’s a changed man, prison bringing out the worst in him. But he’s home, and after three months of being on edge, he is somewhat relaxed. He throws his keys on the counter, noticing the large stack of mail left there. Garcia, he thinks, making a mental note to thank her later.

He’s not in the mood to go through mail, much less write anyone back, but one envelope catches his eye. He would notice your handwriting anywhere, the messy mix between cursive and script permanently ingrained in his mind. His throat catches as he reaches for the letter, his mind racing with thoughts of regret and overwhelming sadness. He misses you, more than anything. Had Mr.Scratch not been targeting the loved ones of the BAU, he wouldn’t have ended things. But he couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk putting you in harm's way, not after losing so many of the people he loved.

He tears open the envelope, pulling out the paper and beginning to read. His eyes scan word after word furiously, his heart pounding as he takes it all in. our baby, he thinks, y/n was pregnant

Spencer couldn't keep his tears in even if he tried, so overwhelmed with the news. His decision to leave you to protect you had lost him the opportunity of witnessing his baby growing, his baby being born. And now, he feels like he’s a shell of a man, a different person who is suddenly a father. He reads the letter again, this time noticing the gendered pronouns. He doesn’t know how he missed it before. She... she’s beautiful he rereads, fully absorbing the fact that he has a daughter.

Spencer doesn’t waste another second, grabbing his keys and running back out the door. Your apartment was only a few blocks away, no use in taking the car Spencer decides as he’s rushing out of the elevator. So, with his heart pounding and mind racing, he runs. He’s never run so fast in his life, and honestly he’s in no shape to be doing so now but even with his lungs heaving he can’t stop.

He reaches the building, gasping for air as he pulls out his key. She never asked for it back , he thinks as he unlocks the door, catching his breath as he hits the up button on the elevator. Spencer regrets taking the elevator as soon as he’s inside, his body tensing up being confined in small quarters again. But he shakes it off, focusing on the fact that he's seconds away from seeing you again. Seconds away from meeting his daughter. He darts out of the tiny elevator, turning left and running down the hall - he can’t move fast enough. Then he sees it, your door, with the same small floral stickers surrounding the apartment number. Before he can think twice, he’s raising his hand to knock on your door.

~~~~~~~~

You’re making yourself some lunch when you hear a knock on your door. “Fucking landlord i’m so tired of his bullshit” you mutter as you go swing open the door. The butterknife in your hand drops as soon as you see Spencer’s face there in front of you. “Spencer” you breathe out, in complete disbelief.

“Uh, sorry, here” Spencer fumbles, leaning down to grab the knife from the floor and hand it back to you. You accept it, eyes wide and in shock as you wait for what he will say next.

“I got your letter” he says, pulling it from his bag to show you - as if you weren’t the one who wrote it in the first place.

“That's it? That’s all you have to say to me? You got my letter. And what spencer? Give me a reason to let you inside” you say, tears already brimming.

“I was in prison-” Spencer starts, his body language shifting as he begins to explain himself, “for the last three months. I was framed, but that’s not why I left. I knew that the guy we were hunting down would stop at nothing to hurt everyone at the BAU and I couldn't- I couldn’t put you in his path. I couldn’t be the reason you got sucked into his mess. Really I didn’t want to bring you any further into mine-” he rambles, eyes looking into yours.

You finally take in how he looks, tired, run down, like he’s just been through hell. And from what he’s telling you, he has been. You go to open your mouth but he cuts you off, “then I got arrested, before we got him. And I don't want to lie to you and tell you that he’s gone. He’s not. But I couldn’t stay away. I- I left because I thought I was doing the right thing but it's not the right thing to do anymore," Spencer explains, emotion filling his voice.

“Then what's the right thing to do spencer?” you ask, praying he answers the way you’ve been dreaming of for the past nine months.

“Be with you. With our baby. I- I made a mistake, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. And if you don’t want me back because you can’t forgive me I understand. But I want to be here for our daughter. I'll make the time. I’ve got some time off from work and I can take more- I just- I can’t let her grow up the way I did. Without a father.” Spencer says, a single tear falling down his cheek.

He’s going to keep rambling, you know it, but you move to wrap your arms around him - surprising him enough to stop him from speaking. He smells the same, the masculine but sweet vanilla scent filling your nose again. He sobs as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you as close to him as possible. “I forgive you” you whisper through your own tears, Spencer's body stilling as he hears the words. He pulls away from you, looking down to watch your eyes, unsure if you’re just saying that because he’s crying all over you.

“Ten minutes ago, no, I wouldn't have. But I understand now, and I know you’re being honest. And god, I’ve missed you, Spence” you tell him and he pulls you into his chest again.

“I- Thank you. I’ll never do this to you again. I’m so sorry” he says as he holds you. It feels like time is standing still until your daughter’s cries sound through the door.

“Fuck. I gotta get her, she’s probably hungry-” you say and turn, but Spencer grabs your arm. “Can I meet her? Please” he begs, and you slowly nod, suddenly overcome with nervousness. You open the door wider, letting Spencer in so you can both set your stuff down and grab your daughter. He looks terrified, standing in the middle of your apartment waiting for you to tell him what to do. Her poor cries are making his heart pang, and he wants to run in the room to rescue her but he knows it’s up to you.

You grab his hand, pulling him along with you as you open the door to your bedroom - Athena crying from her cot next to your bed. Spencer gasps as he sees her, and you drop his hand, moving to grab your crying baby.

“Shhhh baby, i’m here shhh” you soothe her, Spencer watching in awe as she starts to calm down almost instantly. Athena is hungry, you can just tell, but she can wait a few more minutes to eat. Meeting her dad is more important.

“Spence, meet your daughter” you say, moving so that he can see Athena more clearly in your arms.

He is crying again, but this time tears of joy, of disbelief. You were right, she looks like him and she’s so beautiful. “She’s perfect” he says, his eyes not moving from her for even a second.

“Do you want to hold her?” you ask, and he nods, shakily moving his arms to accommodate her little body. You place her in his arms and she cries for a second, but then looks up at him and stops. Spencer doesn’t move, just looks down at his baby girl as she looks back up at him.

“Well I think she knows you’re someone special - she’d be crying for anyone else” you say, offering him words of encouragement.

“Hi, um, im spencer - no, i- uh- i'm your dad” he says to Athena, and she blinks unaware.

“She likes you” you tell Spencer, tilting your head motioning to the living room so that he follows. He carries her so gently, moving so slowly as he takes a seat on the couch.

“You said she was hungry, does she formula feed or breastfeed? Is that inappropriate to ask?” Spencer questions, making you laugh.

“You're her dad, of course you can ask. I breastfeed her but I pump as well, I’ve got a bottle I can prepare for her if you want to feed her” you reply, his eyes lighting up.

“I'll take that reaction as a yes” you say and grab your breast milk from the fridge, moving to warm it up.

Spencer looks precious holding Athena, he’s making faces and smiling, letting his guard down. Athena looks absolutely enamored with Spencer, like she intuitively knows she’s with her dad. “Here, she might fight back because it's not my boob but, it should be fine” you explain as you hand the bottle to him.

“I’d fight too given the other option” Spencer remarks and you’re astonished. Did he just make a joke? About your boob?

“Spence!” you gasp, and he looks just as shocked as you.

“Uh, Freudian slip i guess, sorry” he mumbles, focusing on getting Athena to take the bottle. “No, it's fine, just um, unexpected. It’s good to see you letting loose” you comfort him, watching as Athena takes the bottle with no problems. Shocker.

“Yeah, no going back now, she’s a daddy’s girl” you tell him, a little in awe of how fast Athena grew to love him.

“I love her” Spencer whispers, overcome with such an intense feeling of love he couldn’t even begin to put it into words. Spencer Reid is speechless, and he doesn’t even know his daughter’s name. Wait, I don’t even know her name, he thinks.

“Y/n, her name, I don’t - what’s her name?” Spencer asks, butterflies filling your chest.

You loved her name, it was perfect for her. Named after the Greek goddess of wisdom, it was only fitting for a child with the genes of a genius. But you couldn’t help but worry that he would hate it.

“Y/n? Please tell me, if she has your last name that’s fine. I understand, just, I want to know what to call her” Spencer begs, and you nod.

“Athena Diana Reid” you say, and Spencer's mouth drops.

“Listen- I know Diana isn’t my mother, and I wasn’t trying to overstep, but I figured that if Athena never got to know her father at least her name would be entirely related to him. I understand if you’re mad, but-” you start rambling and he cuts you off

“Marry me” Spencer says, moving the now empty bottle to the table as he stares at you. “W-what?” you gasp, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“Okay, that’s my fault, I know it’s unexpected but, you’re the mother of my child, and quite frankly the love of my life, and I spent so much time away from you wishing I was back here loving you and I don’t want to waste anymore time. Let’s be a family. Marry me, y/n” he proposes, and you’re crying. It’s the last thing you expected. In your wildest dreams all you hoped for was him showing up at the door, much less the fact that he would still be in love with you and adore your daughter.

“Yes” you say, and Spencer gets up from the couch, Athena still in his arms as he moves to kiss you.

It’s a cinematic kiss, other than the awkwardness of having a baby between the two of you. Regardless, it's magical, your lips moving together perfectly, just like they used to.

You pull apart, out of air, and Spencer smiles.

“In case you couldn’t tell, I love her name. Thank you for thinking of me, for including me even though I'm an idiot” Spencer tells you.

“Spencer, you’re a textbook genius. Shut up. And of course I thought of you, you’re all I thought about. I loved you - I love you” you correct yourself and he kisses you again, Athena squirming in his arms.

He starts to laugh in the kiss as Athena wiggles her little legs, and you just smile.

“I think she’s trying to get our attention” you say, and Spencer nods.

“Or maybe she needs to be burped” Spencer suggests, and you nod, replying

“Yeah, I think we’re gonna be just fine. You’re a natural”

“I’ve read a surprising amount of parenting books, just out of curiosity. Plus there was that one time I birthed a baby at work-” Spencer explains himself but you cut him off,

“Just take the freaking compliment, Spence”

~~~~~~~~~

Spencer didn’t go back to his apartment that night, not after finding a place where he felt like himself again. He knew he was damaged, you knew he was damaged, but if anything could help heal him, it was your love and his daughter, Athena Diana Reid.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst

[copias-sewer-rat]

hello again! ❤️ inspiration has struck for a new ask (if you’d like to ofc)

would it be possible for you to write the different papas maybe helping a s/o who’s overwhelmed with work, stress, bills or whatever etc. and how they help them relax, calm them?

Thank you! 😘

Sorry this took so long! I myself am very stressed with work so this ask got me pretty hard. I tried to portray different types of behaviours when stressed so I hope you enjoy the little scenarios (they might be a bit angsty if you are feeling down, but it is nothing serious.) Fluff and comfort overall! (THIS IS ALL WORK STRESS RELATED BECAUSE RN THAT IS ALL MY MIND GOES TO SORRY)

Tags: no proof read, gn reader, overworked reader, slight argument but overall fluff and comfort.

PAPAS WITH A READER WHO IS STRESSED (GN)

Primo

- Now that he has been retired for a few years, Primo doesn’t feel that stressed anymore. Nonetheless, he doesn’t have fond memories of the piles of documents piling at his desk when he was Cardinal or even Papa.

- Currently he gets the most stressed when some unexpected plague attacks his dear plants.

- That and when you come to him stressed yourself.

- He sees you entering your shared chambers, dark bags under your puffy eyes (you had probably been crying, he thought) and he gets stressed just from your aura.

- He has seen you like this before, but this is one of those extreme cases when you don’t even speak to him, so he worries a lot.

- He jumps straight to you, grabbing anything that you might be carrying, trying to make you feel lighter somehow.

- When he gets back to you after placing your belongings where you usually leave them, he resorts to the only thing he can think of to know how to help you: yes or no questions.

- You are not speaking right now, but you do make very slow almost unreadable gestures.

- He asks if you want to eat, you nod. He prepares you a plate of the dinner he had made for both of you, still hot and smelling delicious, you eat what you can.

- He offers you various options afterwards. That you vent to him about what got you so stressed, a warm bath or to get wrapped in blankets and sleep as much as you want.

- Whatever you choose the last option is always mandatory, because he knows that that is what relaxes you the most.

Secondo

- You learned a long time ago that Secondo’s bitter and dry behavior came to flourish mostly when he was stressed, which occurred pretty often.

- Since you got together he had snapped at you a few time because of that, but he promised to work on his issues so you don’t get to suffer because of him.

- He picks up wood work to destress when he has a bit of a break and he hasn’t snapped at you ever since.

- So imagine his surprise when it is you the one that snaps at him.

- You cannot avoid it, you had loads of work and you workmates were being assholes and your boss even more. Everyone shouted at you so you shouted at Secondo.

- He had asked a pretty innocent question about the washing machine, something that he had asked before, but somehow he always forgets and you keep reminding him. But this time it bothered you more that it should. You screamed at him that he was stupid, that he didn’t put any effort into figuring out himself.

- Secondo wasn’t one to get affected by those kinds of comments, but coming from you, his beloved, it definitely pricked his heart in a way he didn’t know it was possible.

- You saw his hurt expression and regretted you actions instantly, breaking into tears in front of him.

- You apologized profusely time and time again, explaining the root of your aggressiveness towards him. That certainly softened him and made him angry at the same time.

- How dared everyone at your job to treat you in such way? You were perfect!

- He told you that there was nothing to forgive, that he understood why you had snapped. However, he made you promise that you would come to him sooner when you started feeling that way, that maybe you could carve something together.

- Later that night Secondo prepares a movie night with your favourite snacks and a marathon of your comfort movies to chill together.

- You definitely fall asleep before the first movie ends and Secondo carries you to your shared bed.

Terzo

- You were so stressed that you finally shut down. You couldn’t do anything, you felt so incompetent.

- The last day you had spent it under the sheets of your bed, crying all the time, thinking that you didn’t deserve a job. Everything was piling up and you had asked for a couple of free days to drown in your own self pity.

- The break itself was not working, guilt building up for even skipping a day of work, but you could not handle being there anymore.

- Terzo had been worried about you, you were not answering your phone so he decided to visit you in person. He had a spare to you keys so he invited himself in.

- Everything was dark and cold. Being the dramatic ass that he is he imagined the worst possible scenario and called for you. He heard some rustling coming from your bedroom and grabbed a pan from you kitchen to defend himself.

- When he saw your figure curled up in bed between mugs of cold tea and used tissues he run to you, leaving the pan at the edge of the bed where it didn’t make a noise.

- He observed that you were awake so he tried to talk to you. You could do anything but hug his torso as tightly as possible.

- He didn’t say nothing more, he just caressed your greasy hear, tucking it away from you puffy face.

- Terzo sang your favourite Italian songs to calm you down and you did.

- When you felt better, you told him why you were like that, but he didn’t understand much between your hiccups and sniffles, he got the general picture though.

- He prepared a spa session for both of you, with the whole package: face masks, cucumber for your eyes, exfoliating, warm bath with rose petals, manicure and pedicure for both of you and of course a scalp massage that sent you to heaven.

- He definitely knows how to work those fingers to turn you into a puddle.

Copia

- The current Papa is always so stressed himself that you don’t want to add your own stress to his own growing pile. You fake a smile every time he asks about your job, but on the inside you are hurting so badly.

- You want to quit, you have wanted to do so for a while. Your job doesn’t bring you any joy and it is the furthest you would find to your dream job.

- Copia doesn’t know this, so when you almost collapse on him due to you overworking yourself, he is so panicked that he debates calling an ambulance.

- You recover yourself quickly and ask for a glass of water which Copia runs to fetch for you.

- He thinks you might have a very serious sickness. When he hands you the tall glass of water (which you down in one go) he sees how pale you look, the bags under your eyes, the shine of your hair is gone and you look thinner.

- He asks what is wrong while putting you on his lap and you break down. You explain everything. How you didn’t want to worry him, how everything had seemed too much lately, how you don’t want your job anymore.

- He listens attentively, but his face is one of concern. He explains that you should not stick with something if it makes you unhappy. Of course every job has bad moments, but if that is all that there is to it, it is not worth it.

- You nod and hug him tightly. Copia runs his hand through your hair, explaining how he will always be there by your side, that you can talk to him about these things, that you are not a burden or a bother.

- You laugh, you had been so blind to that. He is Copia, your Copia. Of course he would have time for you, and you for him. You wanted to do it alone, and the weight became so heavy that you sank down. Fortunately, Copia was always going to be there to pick you up.

- After that you shower together. Copia pays extra attention to all the parts of your body that look extra tense. He rubs and washes with hot water and you do the same for him in such and intimate fashion that you end up hugging under the hot stream.

- After that you eat dinner, talking about anything but work, Copia throwing his typical silly jokes. Those he knows make you laugh no matter what.

- At the end of the night, he carries you to bed and massages you with scented oils, massaging any spot that was still tense even after the shower.

- You fall asleep with your head nested on his neck, inhaling his scent and wondering how lucky you truly were of having him as your other half.

#gonst #the band ghost #papa emeritus iv #ghost #cardinal copia #ghost band #ghost bc #papa emeritus iii #papa terzo #papa secondo #ask box #ask #my writing

[nightshadehoney]

I never watched James Somerton's shitty Killing Stalking video because I was trying to be good to myself and avoid something that I knew would make me very angry. In fact, I never watched any of his stuff because the fact that he made a video like that was enough to discount any thing he ever had to say (also I heard about the Celluloid Closet plagiarism).

But man, is the James Somerton discourse bringing a lot of Killing Stalking-related feelings back up for me. Because I'm mad; I'm still so mad. There are a suprising amount of people on social media who are saying they never watched any of his stuff except for the Killing Stalking video. I'm annoyed not just to find out that the vid had that sort of reach and influence, but also because Somerton's unmasking hasn't seemed to make people reasses the validity of the kind of thing he was saying. People are just now being like "hmm I think this guy might have Issues With Women" but that doesn't warrant any reflection on what exactly the motivation is of people who complain about women enjoying a niche webcomic? Because I don't actually believe you're concerned about the influence of some obscure piece of media when you advertise its existence to your large audience many of whom had not heard of it and would never have heard of it but for your transparent outrage porn video. It's rage bait and the target was women that are perceived as straight. A big channel has publicized the fact that they excised a section that endorsed the opinions in this video from their own because they became aware of Somerton's plagiarism and dishonesty (presumably; if it was actually because they recognized his views were coming from a sexist place I would welcome a clarification). And you know, I don't think that's a good look actually. That you needed to be told he was a bad person and couldn't idependently put together that the misogynist man was saying misogynist things.

The comic ended years ago and the fandom has gone mostly quiet, but to this day people are still the peddling the"fujoshi/stupid teenage girls who don't know what's good for them are shipping these characters because they are too braindead to realize it's not a romance; it's a horror, two things I believe are mutually exclusive. I am smarter than all of these cringe degenerates" bullshit. It's in the comments of the hbomberguy video even; one comment was such a gross misrepresentation of the series that my friend needed to talk me down from getting into a pointless youtube comments argument (bless him) because these people are officially making me lose my marbles.

This narrative is full of shit, it's demonstrably not fucking true. You can go on the artist's twitter right now and its full of her retweeting shippy fanart of that pairing readers were apparently never intended to ship.

(I don't think Koogi knows or cares about James Somerton; she just reblogs the works of fans who tag her. This made me laugh though).

Now this is all speculation because he died decades before social media existed, but I think if Nabokov was alive today his twitter would not be full of Humbert Humbert x Dolores Haze fanart. And yet, I have unironically seen people compare shipping Sangwoo and Bum in Killing Stalking with the misreading of Lolita as a precocious sexual temptress more than once.

And this isn't me saying that Killing Stalking is the disgusting"pro-sexualized abuse" comic that tumblr purity police used to characterize it as either. One of these days I'm going to go truly bonkers and end up banging pots and pans on the street corner, yelling at random innocent passerbys about how stories about romantic and sexual relationships are not required to be Hallmark movies. You can make art about the negative, dark, and troubling parts of these feelings and relationships without creating a pat morality tale. You don't need to approach media analysis like your 7th grade teacher has assigned you an essay on explaining what a novel's "message" is.

Nobody, not the author and not the fans, genuinely thinks that Sangwoo and Bum have a healthy or aspirational relationship. This hypothetical person that does not understand the relationship is toxic doesn't exist. Because girls and women, even the ones having cringey fandom fun on tiktok or whatever, are not so stupid and naive that they are unware that breaking someone's legs and locking them in a muder basement is bad. The type of concern troll rhetoric Somerton employed in his video is directed near exclusively at women interested in men and there's a reason for this. Women are not responsible for abuse that men do to them; nobody is responsible for their partner abusing them. If I never saw people spit this bullshit again it would be too soon.

#this is not usually the kind of post I make here because I really try to make this tumblr a positive mental space for me but ffs #james somerton #killing stalking

[zaevauhm]

Rain Drabble

you’re an f1 driver, partnered up with lewis, a crash happens that brings you close to your biggest rival

word count 1.5k

mentions of accidents + sex

sidenote: this was a dream I had a year ago, and my friend asked me to write it all out ahhahshs,

i am not a max fan (dont necessarily dislike him either) but yeah, enjoy my loves

Rain. Lots of it was pouring down, straight into the Red Bull Ring. Completely zoned out, you watched it pour down the windows, as the last fans with worried expressions on their faces were making their way out of the circuit. You were sitting in a conference room, Lewis to your left and Max to your right. Christian and Toto fighting each other right in front of you. What were they even yelling so hard for? And why couldn’t you stay with the medics for a little longer, again? It felt like your head was slowly being ripped from your body. The pain was starting to kick in badly, as the adrenaline wore off. Still, it felt like you would pass out any minute by now. It was so hard to keep your eyes open.

There had been an accident, either Max or Lewis, your teammate, had squeezed you into the wall at a certain point, without a thing you could have done about it. Numb and frozen in those milliseconds, you allowed the car to fly into the wall at 250 km/h, you in it.

Toto was furious, banging the table in front of you, having Lewis trying to calm him down. ‘’This is completely unacceptable! It is obvious that your boy is the one who caused it, Christian, just look at the fucking footage!’’ He ranted and ranted. You noticed an apologetic Max opening his mouth, before immediately being shut down by his team principal, with nothing more than a face that screamed thunder. ‘’That nearly fucking killed my driver, Christian. Measures need to be taken. It can’t go on like this. I can’t send her out again, risking her life in every lap just because your boy doesn’t know how to keep his distance.’’

It felt as if the meeting took hours, your pains only increasing. Lewis gestured for you to lean against him, but it was the last thing that you wanted. Your on-off relationship with your teammate was something you’d rather forget about, completely. He wanted to keep you a secret, so be it. As you stared back out of the windows, you noticed that Max caught your eyes. You stared him dead in the eyes, for a moment before he whispered to you softly. ‘’I’m really sorry.’’

‘’I know.’’ You gestured, beneath your breath.

Lewis noticed, as he was watching your every movement. He leaned back in his chair, obviously displeased by the fact that there was any communication between you and your rival. You couldn’t care less about his feelings at this point.

Finally, several hours later, you were released of everything. You had showered, changed, and took some more pain killers. It was nighttime by now, the circuit dimmed. Most drivers were inside of their motorhomes, resting or still having brief conversations.

You walked by yourself, keeping your eyes on the ground, holding a water bottle under your right arm, squeezing it against your ribs, as well as your medical files. You were feeling completely drained, tired, wanting nothing more than to lay your head down and sleep for days. The soreness in your back and neck was almost unbearable. You took your phone out, 11:39 PM. 8 Missed calls, Lewis. You locked your phone again and put it back in the back pocket of your jeans.

You got interrupted from your thoughts as someone bumped into you, quite roughly. ‘’Watch where you’re going you piece of…’’ You couldn’t finish your sentence as you noticed who was in front of you. Broad shoulders, a bit taller than you, piercing blue eyes staring you down. Max.

‘’You pushing me into the wall just doesn’t do it for you, huh? You had to make sure to knock me over here as well.’’ Your tone dead serious, although you didn’t mean to come across as angry, not necessarily. It was too late anyway, and frankly, he deserved it.

‘’I thought you weren’t mad at me anymore.’’

You raised one eyebrow at the Red Bull driver, utterly confused. ‘’Just watch where you’re going next time, you might actually keep us alive.’’ You spilled, before walking off towards your motorhome.

‘’Y/N.’’ A voice echoed right behind you, as you walked up the stairs, about to enter through the front door. It was almost completely dark at this part of the circuit. Without a single soul in sight, the familiar voice startled you. ‘’What do you want from me?’’ You looked over your shoulder, down at him.

You had never actually spoken to him, nor did he ever linger in your mind. You didn’t know him at all, why was he suddenly following you around? He had already apologized, after all.

‘’May I?’’ He asked, waiting for your permission to follow you up the stairs. You nodded, still zoned out, as he slowly walked towards you, before standing awfully close in front of you. Was he trying to intimidate you? If so, it was slightly working.

‘’I wanted to apologize.’’

‘’You already have, Max. It’s fine.’’ You tried to shake him, but he wouldn’t have it.

‘’Properly.’’

Your eyes widened, as you knew exactly what he meant. Was he being serious?

He took all of your stuff out of your hands and placed it on the table next to your door.

Slowly, he made his way back towards you. Step by step, you stepped back until your back was leaning against the glass window of your motorhome. His breath was awfully close to your neck now, sending shivers down your back. What was it about him?

You gasped when you felt his lips touch your bare neck, as if you hadn’t been touched for years. He took his head back, examining you, smiling at you devilishly. He was everything Lewis wasn’t. The polar opposite, in fact. Maybe that was it? Maybe you longed for something different, after years of being with Lewis in secret. Well, he was willing to give it to you.

He allowed himself to come close to you again. ‘’Does that feel good?’’ He whispers onto your lips, making you smile a little. ‘’Yes.’’ You just noticed how big he was in comparison to yourself, his body was blocking any view you had before by now.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer onto him, gently squeezing you in the process. He slowly made his way to your chest, leaving a trail of kisses as he went down, before releasing you from your jeans, your phone falling down with it. He looked up at you, asking for permission again before pressing soft kisses onto your thighs. His eyes sparkled something in you, that left you wanting him to do with you as he pleased.

He continued kissing your thighs, before gently pulling your string to the side, leaving you filled with anticipation. You were surprised to learn that he actually knew what he was doing. You felt his tongue drawing circles around your entrance, soft moans leaving your mouth as your hands were clinging to the glass behind you. Did you just hear something move inside of your home? He lifted his head up a little, licking you from entrance to top, making your legs weak. Suddenly, he got up, roughly turning you around and pushing your face onto the glass, pulling your arms behind you. You gasped. ‘’So this is what it’s like to be Hamilton.’’ His voice was filled with anger. You gasped within yourself. The fact that he knew, somehow, was something that couldn’t bother you at that moment. You wanted more. He entered you with two of his fingers, deeply, making you curve your ass up towards him. You moaned, leaning your head back against his shoulder. ‘’This is what he gets to taste, huh?’’ He whispered into your neck, making you even weaker. He stopped his movements, forcing you to answer him. ‘’Tell me.’’

‘’Yes.’’ You moaned, shyly. For sure your cheeks were bright red by now. The mixture of pleasure with the amount of pain killers and medication the medics had pumped you full of, left you in a strange, unknown state of mind. You loved being touched by him, somebody other than Lewis. He shook you from your thoughts as he sped up, getting you close to the point of orgasming right there. Your phone was staring right at you, lingering on the floor, as Lewis’ caller ID was shown on the screen. It just made you feel shyer than ever, the fact that two men wanted you more than anything, at the same time. And which men… They hated eachothers’ guts. ‘’Are you going to listen to me?’’ His voice filled the atmosphere around you. You nodded, slowly. ‘’I want to see you cum.’’ He whispered as you saw him looking down in the reflection, to your phone. You did, Max holding you firmly, feeling how weak he had gotten you. It felt as if you got your senses back, right there in that moment, leaving you confused and wanting to run. ‘’I’m sorry, I have to go inside.’’ You stumbled, as he grabbed you by your arms, making you face him. ‘’It’s okay, you don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to make you feel good. Also, no one is hearing about this.’’

‘’Okay.’’ You trusted him.

You opened your door; Max still right behind you, as your breath got stuck into your throat, almost bumping back onto him as you saw who was staring you down from behind the glass. Lewis.

#fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 #formula1 #lewishamilton #lh #lh44 #max verstappen #rivalry #sexualsuff #driver x reader #formula 1 imagine #thankyouforreadingloveyou #let me know what yall think #feedback is welcome #💗

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for caring about my perfect record (and that of my protégée)?

So loads of people seem to think I'm an awful person for this, but I (65?M) am a Prosecutor, and a very good one. I have never received even so much as a mark on my record, or at least I hadn't until roughly 15 years ago (December 2001).

See, I used to have this rival (35?M), we'll call him G. G was a Defense Attorney, and during one of our cases, he proved that some of the evidence I presented was dodgy. I still won the case in the end, but the judge couldn't overlook my "misconduct" and marked it on my record. I was understandably upset, and honestly quite angry at G by this point -- he had ruined my record!

Luckily for me, just as G was leaving the courthouse, an earthquake struck. G was in the elevator at the time, and it got stuck.

Now at this point I should tell you that G was not alone. In the elevator with him were his son M (then 9, now 24M) and a court bailiff who we'll call Y (then 37, now 52M).

You can imagine my surprise when, upon finding the elevator, a bullet shot out through the window and lodged itself in my shoulder! I have recently learned that this was the fault of M, he had thrown Y's dropped gun in order to stop Y attacking G, and then passed out due to lack of oxygen. By the time the elevator doors opened, Y and G had passed out, too

Seeing Y's gun laying on the floor, I suddenly realised what I had to do. I picked the gun up off the floor, and shot G dead. I then feigned shock at the scene, raising the alarm.

Y was accused of the crime, since his gun was the one used, but the court did not charge him as he plead temporary insanity on instruction from his Attorney. M believed he killed his father, still did until fairly recently. He also developed an irrational fear of elevators and earthquakes as a result, which I believe merely speaks to a weak mind but that's none of my concern.

Following G's demise, I took young M under my wing. He wanted to follow in his father's footsteps and become a Defense Attorney, a delusion I swifty put a stop to, instead persuading him to become a Prosecutor like myself, training him to be the best, to fight for a conviction no matter what.

However, recently a "childhood friend" came back into his life. As a Defense Attorney. And he began to try to make M fight for the truth -- as if truth is more important than a clean record! This upstart Attorney also won several cases against M, destroying his record. And M even seemed to be beginning to fall for his "friend"'s trickery!

Naturally I had to put a stop to this, and so I had a letter written to M pretending to be the Attorney who defended Y all those years ago, R (48M), asking M to meet him at a local lake. I then called up R, asking him to go to the location (but earlier than M) and had Y shoot him and throw his body in the lake. Next, I made Y dress up as him, and shoot over M's shoulder and jump into the water (I instructed Y to take M on a boat ride to the middle of the lake). From the shore, this made it look as though M had shot Y (it was a misty night, and roughly midnight). M made it even easier to frame him as, in his shock, he picked up the dropped gun, meaning that when police found him, his fingerprints were all over the weapon. My plan was perfect, as anything by any member of my family should be.

But I failed to account for the amateur Attorney M used to call a friend. He decided to defend M. I thought this would be no big deal, he hasn't even been practicing law for a year yet! But he is thorough, and he can bluff his way through things. He ended up revealing everything, even solving the murder of G right before the Statute of Limitations ran out!! And I have now been charged with murder. All I ever wanted was to protect my record, I think it was all justified. Yeah, yeah, I killed M's father on Christmas Eve so now he has December-related trauma, but this is about me!

TL;DR: AITA for straight up murdering my rival in cold blood, taking his orphaned child under my wing, and then trying to frame said kid for another murder 15 years later? I did it to protect my perfect record, I think I'm justified :(((

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

[calumance]

Surviving Together - Part 1

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: blood, they're both absolutely emotionally constipated, typical Mandalorian violence, cussing

A/N: I have no idea how many parts this is going to be. I've been writing this for MONTHS now and I figured I should get it out into the world so that I will continue it. Feedback is most welcome because I am VERY new to the Din Djarin fandom. Love you all 😘♥️

If there were two things she knew for certain, one would be that she knew the Mandalorian was getting tired of her, and the second would be that now that she was fully healed, he was going to leave her the first chance he got. She spent every waking moment trying to prepare herself for when that was going to happen, running through a list of things she would need to know and remember to survive on her own, since she obviously did such a good job the first time.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t like her, because she was a liability, because he had to watch over her just so she didn’t end up dead. She closed her eyes and looked out the window; maker, maybe it was because he thought she was weak. Whatever the reason, she knew she would never have the courage to ask.

~~~~~~

It was about a year ago when she had started to bounce from planet to planet. She hadn’t run away from home, necessarily, she just didn’t want to feel stuck anymore. The death of her father started to feel like it was suffocating her, even if it was many years ago. Then the death of her mother completely flipped a switch in her mind. Her time on her home planet was over, so she left.

Four months after she left her home planet, she found herself in Mos Eisley, a small town on the planet of Tatooine. Everything was going great for the first two months, she had picked up random jobs that gave her enough credits to buy food, and she always managed to find some place to sleep, even if it was on some abandoned crates.

It was late one night when she found herself still sitting at the cantina finishing up her food when she heard a gruff voice from behind her, “What is a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this all alone?” Her blood ran cold, this was the first time she had ever felt this level of terror since the night her father was killed.

The terror became icy in her veins when she felt the cold steel of a vibroblade pressed to the front of her throat. She tried to swallow, but the knife was pressed so firmly that the slightest movement would cut her, “I was just finishing up my dinner.” She whispered while trying to lean away from the knife.

“Give me all of your credits, and I will let you walk out of here unscathed.” The voice was right next to her ear, sending an unsettling shiver down her spine.

There was no way she was going to give this guy the credits she had worked so hard for. She knew her combat skills were subpar at best, but in a quick motion, she threw her head back, straight into her assailant's nose. As he stumbled backward, she turned to catch a glimpse at how much damage she caused. His nose was bleeding, but now he was angry.

“Shit,” she mumbled to herself as she quickly grabbed her pack and started to make a run for it.

She didn’t have enough time to yell for help before the miscreant caught up to her, tackling her to the ground. A scream barely escaped her throat before a hand covered her mouth, and the knife was plunged into her side. She screamed louder, but it was muffled by the hand. The warm sensation of blood running down her side caused her to stop screaming, she needed to stop panicking if she wanted to survive. Quickly, the man above her grabbed her pack, removed the vibroblade from her side, and ran.

She scrambled to press her hand to her side, tears now starting to fall down her cheeks. When she removed her shaking hand from her side, it was coated in blood. “Fuck,” she mumbled to herself before looking around to see if there was someone nearby to help her, “Fuck,” She repeated when all she saw was vast nothingness. As hard as she tried to stay calm, the amount of blood loss caused her to panic. As hard as she tried to use the Force to heal the wound, the panic wouldn't ebb and nothing was happening. She peeled her hand away from her wound and cried loudly while her blood covered hands shook. She was going to die, and she had nothing, and she was terrified, and she was alone. A sob escaped as she laid her head back and closed her eyes.

The next thing she knew, she was waking up in some sort of ship, the pain in her side still very intense. A wave of nausea washed over her, and she quickly looked for something to vomit in. A bucket was quickly placed in front of her, and just in time. As soon as she was finished, she flopped onto her back and closed her eyes, wincing at the pain the movement caused. “Am I dead?” She asked into the open air.

“No,” a voice told her. The voice was spoken through a modulator which caused her to open her eyes and look around. She swallowed hard when her eyes landed on her savior. The Mandalorian was well known around the galaxy, one of the best bounty hunters, definitely not someone you’d want to be on the bad side of.

“The Mandalorian,” She said, and he paused. A thick silence filled the air as she closed her eyes again and tried to hold down the next wave of nausea. “What happened?”

“I should be asking you that.” He said while pretending to be distracted by whatever he was doing. Even he wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing; his actual attention solely on the woman laying on the cot.

She took a breath, a searing pain shot through her abdomen. After she let out a soft grunt, she told him what happened, in as little words as possible. “I was held at blade point, the guy stabbed me, grabbed all of my stuff, and ran.” Her throat felt as dry as the dune sea, “I thought I died.”

“You passed out from the blood loss,” he said as he sauntered over to her, a canteen in his hand. He offered the canteen to her and she took it reluctantly. She started to sit up, but winced. Immediately, he jumped to help her, his hand resting on her upper back to support her. She said no words, but her eyes said ‘thank you.’ He swallowed before speaking again, “The wound is deep, you need rest, I’ll take you to Nevarro to get essentials, you can stay until you are healed.” He paused after that, he wasn’t sure why he paused, but he did.

She allowed the cool water to coat her throat. A sigh escaped her lips as she relished in the feeling. “So what do I call you?” She tilted her head back and took another swig of water.

He debated telling her his real name, Din, my name is Din, how hard is that? He clenched his hands into fists out of nervousness. His name had been spoken enough times recently that there was no real reason to hide it, but it was still personal. Moff Gideon used it as an intimidation tactic, and it still sat poorly on his chest. “Mando is fine.” That was when she nodded and looked up at him. She spoke her name and the tips of his fingers tingled. His face heated up and at the moment he was glad to be wearing the helmet. “Get some rest,” he said after gathering himself. “We’ll land in Nevarro in a day or two.” After he helped her lay back down, he turned on his heels and climbed the ladder into the cockpit.

The two days it took them to get to Nevarro were thick with tension. Mando was so cautious around her that she figured it was because he was already starting to regret taking her along with him. In reality, it was because Din was absolutely transfixed by her and was trying his damndest to not get too close to her. The only time Din allowed himself to get close to her were the times he helped clean and redress her wound. After he was done, she would close her eyes and whisper a ‘thank you’ before taking a deep breath. Din would wait until she fell back into a deep sleep to run a gloved hand across the top of her head. Only once did he allow himself to sit and watch her, silently trying to figure out what it was about her that had him in such a chokehold.

When they landed in Nevarro, he had asked her if she was able to walk. “Yeah, yeah, I can walk,” it was a shaky answer, “Maybe with some help?” She sheepishly asked him. They both paused and eventually Din nodded and helped her stand. When she winced, his heart stopped. His stare was locked on her and she nodded, signaling that she was okay. Din let out a breath that wasn’t caught by his modulator.

“Stay here.” It came out more stern than he intended, he tried not to dwell on it as he quickly began to gather his belongings. After placing his blaster in its holster, and his rifle on his back, he made sure his armor was secure then he made his way back to her. His beskar helmet turned to her in a questioning stare. After she nodded, they started to make their way into town.

Din had helped her along the shops in the market, where together they got her new clothes, ration bars, and other essentials she would need if she were to be traveling with him. When they got back to the ship, her eyes were starting to become heavy and she was leaning more and more of her weight into him. He oddly welcomed the feeling of her body pressed against his, but ultimately laid her back down on her cot. Once she was comfortable, he pulled a blanket from the storage crate and draped it over her. This was the second time he allowed himself to sit and watch her sleep.

After the trip to Nevarro, Mando continued to bounty hunt, bringing her along for the ride while making sure her wound was healing the way it should. Once she started healing and being able to move on her own, he had set some ground rules: she either had to stay on the ship while he was hunting a quarry, or she stayed in an inn; if she were to ever stay on the ship, do not open it for anyone but him; and always think of herself. She had agreed to these terms, and that was when Mando had stopped talking to her, other than handing her a few credits before he left, with a nod goodbye. With the fear of the fact that Mando was probably getting tired of her presence, she stopped talking to him, making herself small, and never giving him a reason to dump her on some random planet. It was working, or so they thought.

~~~~~~

She looked back at the Mandalorian as he reached his hand up and flipped a switch, getting ready to enter hyperspace. When they did find themselves in the same area together, she felt a strange sense of calm. A calm that she would never be able to explain, and one he probably didn’t feel in return. It was the stupidest thing, to find yourself drawn to someone who barely tolerated your existence, but here she was, staring at the back of the Mandalorian’s helmet wishing she could tell him everything. But how can you tell someone everything, when you don’t even know what everything is? She dropped her eyes to her hands as the ship entered hyperspace. Quietly, she lifted her knees to her chest and leaned her head back, closing her eyes and quickly drifted to sleep.

Once he felt secure in their flight path, and that nothing was going to interrupt their relatively short trip through hyperspace, he turned to the woman in the copilot seat. Her knees were pulled to her chest, her arms were crossed in front of her chest, and her head was tilted back. Soft snores came from her nose as the deep sleep consumed her. He thought about carrying her out of the cockpit and to the area she had set up as her sleeping quarters, but he didn’t want to disturb her. Instead, he stood and removed his cloak, draping it over her. She stirred lightly, but didn’t wake. He let out a soft sigh before placing a gloved hand gently on the top of her head. He stared at her in awe for a short moment before exiting the cockpit and headed to his bunk.

Once the sliding door to his bunk closed, he removed his helmet and laid his head back. He thinks about the day he found her, laying in the sand, blood pooled underneath her. His heart was already broken from returning Grogu to the Jedi, his heart shattered when he saw her left to die in the sand. He picked her up and carried her to his ship. Once he set her down, he immediately started to work on cleaning and sealing her wound. As soon as he was sure she would recover, he studied her. She was beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman he’d laid eyes on in a while. Just as quickly as he found himself staring, he looked away from her, he couldn’t get attached, not again. But no matter how hard he tried, he was always drawn to her.

#din djarin #din djarin fan fiction #din djarin fan fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #star wars #Star Wars fan fiction #Star Wars fan fic #Pedro pascal #Pedro Pascal fan fiction #Pedro Pascal fan fic #Pedro Pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal x female reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #din djarin fan fiction series

[according2thelore]

Ohmygod this was my askkkk!! I am so so happy with thiss, rolling around it like a kitten I am sooo fed!!! Tysm!! The twist with it being their intention all along for ES!winchesters to find out…..I am dead, absolutely dead. You are so good, soo creative. ES!Sam you are in for a ride, and ES!Dean, you better get over with your hangups soon and accept what it is.

My imagination is running wild now and because of this being intentional, I am imagining LS!Winchesters now fully staging this setup, lure ES!Sam in it because he would be easier to convince and LS!Sam knows that Dean *deserves* to be with a version of himself, pre cage, pre demon blood, all pure and innocent and fiery and angry and confident - something he is only rarely these days. This Sam will take what he wants. So LS!Sam arranges this thing for LS!Dean and ES!Sam, tells his Dean to enjoy! And my oh my does he. ES!Sam is his to claim first now???? This precious thing, eager to please but also has this arrogance in him that makes him so so so much Sam. Meanwhile ES!Dean is off to run some errand (by LS!Sam's design) but he returns early and sees his baby bro with that older version of himself and LOSES IT. HOW DARE DEAN NOT ONKY DEFILE HIS OWN LITTLE BROTHER BUT ALSO ES!DEAN'S!!!!! HE IS FURIOUS AND YEARNING AND HATES IT THAT HE WASNT THE ONE AND STARTS STRAIGHT UP MURDER BUT LS!SAM MAYBE CALMS HIM???? OHMYGOD

(also??? thank you so much for correcting the misread ask???? I would have taken with greedy grabby hands if you had completely misread it also!! I am OBSESSED with this verse! You are the nicestestestest)

HIHIHIHI!!!!!

GAH! this ask was so cute and nice i was kickin' my lil feet!

this idea is so great! your mind!

this falls into a similar category as one of my most recent posts, and i wrote it accordingly. do i think that LS!Dean would deprive ES!Dean of being LS!Sam's "first" dean? no, i don't think so. that bastard is so possessive i think he can respect the insane-brotherwife grind.

so this is just a delightful hypothetical based on your prompt!

without further ado, enjoy!

"plan b?" dean asks, and sammy lifts his head from his arms. his temples throb with a headache.

dean is sitting across from him at the dining table, nursing a glass of something sam can smell from here. sam snags the glass and takes a sip that curdles his nose hairs before passing it back.

"were we really this stupid? like this dumb?" sammy groans, rubbing a hand through his hair. "i mean, i believe you would be this obtuse, but me? i was just studying for the LSAT like a year ago!"

"oh here comes the big fancy college boy with his big triangle words. you're still gagging for me so hard you're getting an aneurysm." dean rolls his eyes. sammy rolls his eyes right back.

it hadn't worked. they had set those little fuckers up, and expected at least a conversation to happen. but sammy just walked in on their younger selves in the kitchen the other day and they didn't even break apart abashedly! no awkward explanations at all! there wasn't even anything to explain--they were standing on opposite sides of the room!

"did we make it worse?" sammy asks. dean considers this.

"nah. we can fuck it up at least three times as bad if we put our heads together."

so they put their heads together.

~~~

"you want me to what?" sam asks, and there's that blush. sammy tilts his head away so the kid can't see him smile. it's going to make this so much harder if he thinks he's being laughed at.

"pour some sugar on me," dean says, waggling his eyebrows.

sam's face sours.

yup. made it harder.

"not really," sammy is quick to correct. "just...make it look like something's happening."

sam's eyes narrow.

"why?"

and isn't that the crux of the whole damn thing. sammy's done some weird things in his life. he's been to the past. he's been to the future. he's been to hell, been to alternate dimensions, and killed just about every type of monster one can think of.

and yet, having to explain why he and dean want to "parent trap" their own younger selves to said younger self might rank high on that list of weird.

"guy's in love with you." dean says, before sammy can say anything. sammy clenches his jaw. way to just jump into this thing.

sam blanches. "no. he's not. you're--he's my brother. you don't know what you're talking about."

"i don't know dean?" dean asks, eyebrow raised. sam sputters.

"well, you know you. but my dean is different. he's not--" heat creeps onto sam's cheeks, as if remembering the compromising position he caught them in the other day. "you."

dean mhmms flatly.

"then what's the harm? he walks in on this, is not jealous, and it doesn't do anything." sammy posits.

"easy for you to say! you have--" sam gestures at dean, but doesn't look at him. "if my dean caught me like that, if he knew--he'd...he'd never talk to me again. he'd...he'd be disgusted."

sammy and dean share a look. after having been tested so often, so deeply, and reaffirming their...bond--as chick-flick and meaningless as it sounds--the distance they had gained from this depth of anxiety removed the sting from it.

sammy will always remember working himself literally ill over it. but when he feels like that, he has the comfort of walking up to dean and biting down on the place where his neck and shoulder meet. he has the comfort of dean putting sticky notes that read "kick me" on the back, and then holding his face like he's the only thing that's ever mattered.

their younger selves deserve this. sammy has no idea if this is going to change the past. he doesn't know if these two will leave here tomorrow or in a week or in a year and be completely wiped-clean, or if they'll keep it all. but they deserve that comfort, that confirmation, that reassurance, as long as they can have it.

and honestly, fuck it. sammy wants a younger dean to be with his younger self. he sees their insecurities and their weird dance around each other and kciks himself for ever being so blind.

not having dean as soon as it was possible to have him will always be one of his biggest regrets.

so, sammy says,

"okay, listen. if it doesn't work, we have a mirror in 219 that erases the viewer's memories from the last 24 hours. all of 'em. so if we try this, and it doesn't work, we can slip it under dean's pillow, and he won't even remember. a zero sum game. no harm, no foul, right?"

sammy can feel dean's eyes on the side of his face, but he maintains intense eye-contact with his younger self.

no, they don't. they absolutely do not have that.

but for the first time, he can see something like hope in the kid's eyes, and--again, fuck it. in for a penny.

"he won't remember?" sam repeats, slowly.

"not a thing." sammy says, wondering if this counts as lying or self-delusion. sam is quiet for a long moment. he looks between him and dean for a few times, suspicion melting.

"yeah. okay." he says finally, looking at dean with a strange hunger in his eyes that brings sammy up short. oh shit. should he-- "i'm in."

~~~

getting dean out of the bunker is embarrassingly easy.

"you know what i would kill for right now?" sammy asks, suddenly, while they're all sitting around a table in the library. sam jolts, even though he had been expecting it. "pringles. do we have any pringles left?"

"oh, man." sam says, his eyes widen. "me, too."

even though they planned this out ten minutes ago, sammy's dean perks up like he's going to say something decidedly not-on-script. sammy shoots him a warning look. he sighs.

"whoops. i think i ate them all." dean looks at the table, like he's a football player forced to be in the school play for extra credit.

"oh." younger dean says. he sits up straight. he looks back and forth between the sams. "i mean. yeah. if we need a grocery run, i could go get some."

his nonchalant tone is belied by the fact his almost trips over his own feet to get up.

"i'll be back!" he calls, already in the doorway.

"god, i'm so fucking transparent." older dean mutters directly into his own palms as he hides his face in his hands. sam pats him on the back comfortingly.

forty-five minutes later, it's all in motion.

sammy knocks against the door twice as he hears dean's footsteps shuffle down the hallway, and rushes away, rounding the corner so dean won't be able to see him.

sam and older dean are set up in the garage. dean had pulled up one of the cars right next to the door so younger dean could see everything.

they had laid out clear ground rules: no actual kissing, no touching "bathing suit territory" (dean had proposed that addendum solemnly, and sam's face had screwed up, like he was considering if he actually felt anything but annoyance for his brother.)

they had decided on signals: two knocks when dean was coming, one knock if things were going to plan, three knocks for "i'll go get the mirror" for sam, and "oh shit we gotta have a plan c" for dean.

sammy had made sure the door was perfectly cracked to give dean some assurance of anonymity, and they had figured that was the best strategy, since dean was known apparently to peep when he suspected his older self and sammy were getting close.

sammy hadn't expected being able to hear sam and older dean's voices from down the hallway, but he can. he can also hear younger dean's footsteps falter as he gets closer to the door.

"no, you're doing it--" an aggravated sigh. "c'mere." a shuffling of limbs. "you see how the drive belt comes this way? we need to loop it around the--"

a pause.

"what're you lookin' at?" dean's voice has lowered an octave, and sammy shifts, a pavlov reaction to hearing dean like that.

"i'm just--" sam peters into silence. a gasp. younger dean's gasp. did he think it was sammy in the garage this whole time? sammy stifles a smile against his hand.

"you lookin' at me, sammy baby?"

"baby?" sam repeats indignantly, but is cut off by a gasp as something in the room clatters to the ground.

"yeah, that's right. you're my baby brother, aren't you? my baby brother. you like seein' me like this? bigger than you? i know my sammy likes it when i throw him around a little. show him who takes care of him."

sam is breathless, and sammy can hear it, when he says, "dean."

sammy wonders how they're set up. does dean have him pressed to the front of the car? hiked onto a table, like he and sammy were set up that first time?

he realizes that it's killing him not to know.

a coo, from dean. "oh. look at you, sweetheart. you're so hard, and i haven't even touched you yet. you think i could make you come just by talkin' to you? hm? you like big brother tellin' you how much he loves takin' care of you that much?"

sammy realizes that he's started to chub up in his jeans. and he also realizes that younger dean hasn't said anything yet. sammy's torn between wanting to look around the corner and see if he's still there and staying put.

what if sam was right, and younger dean's just not ready for this yet? sammy's dean had reassured him in no uncertain terms that he had been lusting after sam since a truly concerning age.

but what if the jealousy is too much? what if seeing them like that carves an impossible chasm?

"dean, i--i" sam sounds much more unsure, like he's losing control fast. sammy bites down hard on his tongue.

he makes a split-second decision.

he rounds the corner.

and dean's got a fucking gun.

sammy starts in a dead sprint just as dean kicks open the door to the garage.

"you sick fuck!" he yells. sammy's behind him in a second, pulling his arms back. dean's starts kicking immediately, even as sammy is able to pull him mostly off the ground.

"he's a kid!" dean's still yelling. "we promised, fucker! we promised!"

sammy looks around dean's flailing body, and sees sam's horrified face. he looks like he's about to be sick. older dean's leaned him up against the side of the car, and he's not even touching him, just standing a few inches away. sammy's dean has visibly paled.

"hey, that's not--" he starts, but dean's already going off again,

"get your goddamn hands off of him!" sammy starts hauling him away, and manages to kick the garage door closed--but not before dean shouts a parting shot, "you think he wants those disgusting fucking hands on him?!"

sammy manages to wrestle dean a couple steps down the hallway before dean starts to go limp.

"i'm calm," dean says, and his gun hand does actually go limp, so sammy starts to let him go.

"what the hell happened back there?" sammy asks, heartbeat in his throat. play dumb! play dumb!

dean tucks his gun back into his pants. he's looking at the wall over sammy's shoulder.

"he shouldnta' been sayin' that." dean mutters. "not his place to. sam is...never mind."

not his place to.

"his place?" sammy prompts. despite the fact that he's pretty sure he had a heart attack back there, he tries really, really hard not to smile. he's taking this very seriously.

dean's phrase is dangerously close to the point of all this, and sam should not celebrate because he's positive older dean and sam are powering through some angst (that sammy will have to deal with later) in the next room right now.

sammy feels like one of those tv show therapists with big glasses, armchair, and ballpoint pen. and how did that make you feel?

"i don't--" dean's eyes fall to his. "i don't know why i said that." his brows furrow. "i gotta go. i need some fresh air."

and without another word, dean turns around and walks away.

operation: go convince your brother to kiss you, but also not you is a-go.

before he walks away, sammy remembers the knock code: once for success, two for dean's arrival, three for failure. and honestly?

sammy knocks on the door once. and he trails after dean, barely resisting the urge to whistle.

oh yeah. they got this in the bag.

~~~~

@aj-carryon au contraire! you are the nicest! i hope you enjoyed this little ficlet, aj! (i hope that's your name, if not, then i hope you enjoyed, friend!)

your asks always make me giggle and twirl my hair, lol! kissing u on both cheeks!

-lizzy

#ask box #lizzy answers #ES/LS verse #aj-carryon